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#yeonjun x you
koqabear · 9 months
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love fool ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
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♫: Seven, Jungkook // Lovefool, The Cardigans // I only want to be with you, Tommy february6
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“In which Yeonjun is more than willing to show you the lengths he’ll go for you.”
yeonjun x fem!reader
Genre: established relationship, inspired by “Seven” mv, fluff, angst, smut
Word count: 10.6K
warnings: don’t take this story seriously pls. it’s ridiculous. yj is clingy. and emotional. and a bit pathetic. the mc is avoidant… and a bit of a bitch ! Lack of communication smh, a bit toxic if u squint ur eyes but it’s supposed to be cute idk (seven mv type toxic skdjdj) yj is a frat boy & a himbo (pick a struggle, pls), arguing, mc has acrylic nails, use of the phrase “boyfriend-girlfriend” bc i’m obsessed w it
smut warnings: mean dom!mc, sub!yj, (mentions of dom!yj) service top!yj, unprotected sex, manhandling (m. rec), hairpulling, name calling, (bitch, stupid, slut, etc) pet names (baby, good boy), dry humping, biting, marking, scent kink (?), scratching, dumbification, dacryphilia, forced orgasm (kinda), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, yj rambles. a lot. breast play, handjob, humiliation, creampie, subspace, implied oral (f. rec) (lemme know if i should add anything!)
Notes: fucking hate arguing with men w/ pretty puppy eyes like i will fuck the shit outta y-
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Yeonjun hates when you’re mad at him. It makes him feel guilty and leaves him with a gross feeling in his stomach, pouty and annoying as his friends are always left to deal with the mess. 
It doesn’t happen often— he tries his hardest not to make you mad, always saying yes and going above and beyond with you— he loves to please you and make you happy, which is exactly why it hits harder when you look at him like you never want to see him again. 
“I don’t want to see you around, don’t talk to me!”
But sometimes, he just can’t help it. 
He seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong— there were no anniversaries forgotten, no plans he stood you up on, no petty arguments— and yet, here he sits, sinking into his couch and burrowed in blankets as his friends try to get him to come out of his cocoon, all with no success.
“Is she mad at you again?” Beomgyu asks, his voice muffled despite sitting on top of Yeonjun— literally, he couldn’t feel his legs— and he hears him groan at the sight of Yeonjun nodding under the mass of blankets, cursing quietly to himself and undoubtedly rolling his eyes, “dude, what did you do?”
“I don’t knowww,” Yeonjun cries out, throwing the blankets off him and onto Beomgyu as he whines— he watches as Beomgyu flails about for a second, running his hands through his hair as he continues to stress about you, “she— she said she didn’t wanna see me again, but I miss her…”
“Fuck, she’s probably just saying that because she wants space— dude, are you crying?”
“What if she was breaking up with me?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu is amazed to see the way his wide eyes are welling up with tears; god, he’s actually crying now, the sight childish and unhinged as he watches his (older) friend sniffle and hiccup through his sentences, “what if— what if she— she, she, she really meant it— god, I don’t wanna break up, I don’t even know what I did wronggg!”
“Okay, okay,” Beomgyu grimaces, watching the way his friend breaks down before his eyes; his hand is stiff and awkward as it pats Yeonjun’s back, trying his best to comfort him, wincing at the way Yeonjun only cries harder, “It’s… probably nothing, I’m sure she’ll talk to you again tomorrow, or once she’s calmed down.”
“You think?” Yeonjun asks, peeking through his hands and up at Beomgyu with sparkling eyes, full of hope as Beomgyu can only crack a nervous smile.
“Yeah,” he says, patting Yeonjun’s back again in reassurance, “Yeah— just, be patient, okay?”
Patient is the last word one would use to describe Yeonjun. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
MONDAY
This is it. 
Yeonjun has been waiting all weekend for this moment (Or just Sunday, to be more accurate), restless on his feet as he finds himself pacing back and forth— he’s nibbling at his lip nervously, arms sore and tired from the weight of the gift he holds in his hands; a bouquet of your favorite flowers, pristine and in full bloom— it’s large and quite heavy as it practically covers his face, but Yeonjun knew that a small bouquet would do nothing to show his love for you. 
He would try to talk to you as soon as your class ended. He needed to know what he did wrong, and he sure as hell would not do it again. You didn’t text him after the argument, and it only left him uneasy at the thought of you really wanting to end things.
He didn’t want to lose you. Not like this. 
Admittedly, he got a bit ahead of himself— he’s been waiting outside for the past half hour, arriving much too early as he stood out in the hall awkwardly— at some point, he tried peeking into the small, rectangular window next to the door, hunched over slightly and pouting as he scanned the room for you. 
When he spotted you, he was delighted to see you had already been looking at him. 
He couldn’t contain the wide smile that stretched across his face, waving at you excitedly in hopes you’d do the same— unable to realize that the whole class was now looking at him, he was confused to watch the way your face screwed up into an expression of sheer embarrassment, shielding your face with your hand and looking away as some students began following his line of sight. 
Why did you do that? You were ignoring him, and it hurt like a bitch as Yeonjun frowned. His mind was racing as he began wondering what he might’ve done wrong— he was so focused, in fact, that he failed to notice the professor blocking his view, his reaction time much too slow as his eyes flickered up to meet the man’s gaze. Flustered, he backed away quickly, his face heating up as he bowed in apology— he hugged the bouquet close to his chest as he did, mumbling out a soft sorry the man probably couldn’t even hear. 
You, on the other hand, could hear the way your professor laughed at Yeonjun’s actions, absolutely mortified by the way he turned around and began to joke to the class, saying that “It looks like someone here has an admirer,” whilst looking in your direction, your classmates laughing along before he went back to his lecture.
Shit, this was so embarrassing. 
Yeonjun is so fucking stupid, you cry to yourself, peeking over at the doorway in hopes that he took the hint and left— but no, he definitely didn’t, because you could still see his figure through the window, leaning against the wall and holding an item the size of his whole upper body close to his chest. 
The last thing you wanted to do was go outside and see him— but that’s exactly what happened anyway, even if you lingered behind once class ended in hopes that Yeonjun would get impatient and wait— patience was never his strongest virtue, after all. 
But for you, anything could change. 
This is exactly why you find him outside the door, face hidden with what is, to your surprise, a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. 
Fuck, you seriously don’t want to talk to him right now. Gritting your teeth, you use this moment to sneak past him, a slight guilt tugging at you as you look back, spotting the way he seems oblivious to the fact that you’ve left already. 
Looking back was your first mistake.
Because Yeonjun, in a truly creepy fashion, is almost able to sense it, whipping his head to you and perking up at the way you only walk faster— then begin sprinting, refusing to look back again once he starts chasing after you. 
“Baby,” you hear him call out to you, the ridiculous rustling of his bouquet slightly muffling his words as his footsteps thud against the tiles; for an athlete, you’d expect him to catch up to you already, but you quietly pat yourself on the back for the slight head start you gave yourself. 
“Baby, wait!” he continues to yell, ignoring the strange stares from those passing by, “Please, let me talk to you!” 
“I don’t wanna talk!” you growl out, your emotions taking over as you remember why you’re mad at him, “leave me alone!”
You’re outside now; you’re a huffing and sweaty mess, but you refuse to slow down for even a second, the threat of Yeonjun hot on your heels fueling your stamina. 
“Can you please tell me what I did wrong?” He yells, exasperated as he watches you run off the sidewalk— you’re attempting to lose him, but countless running drills and morning runs have prepared him for this moment— without a second thought, he’s following you, attempting to peek over his— inconveniently large, he must admit— bouquet, watching the way you simply continue to run, glancing back every once in a while to see if he’s still there. 
“Please, can we be civil and talk about this?!” his words have you turning around to send him a glare— instead, you stumble to a stop as you watch Yeonjun trip, eyes widening at the dramatic sight before you. 
He’s fallen flat on his face, a puff of petals blowing up around him as you wince— he’s face-first into whatever’s left of the flowers, the rest of the petals fluttering in the air around him and falling delicately on his figure as you stare, the place eerily silent save for the chirping birds and rustling leaves.
He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even attempt to get up, left splattered all over the grass as you stare at him in slight concern. 
“Yeonjun?” you call out uncertainly, shifting on your feet as you pause. He doesn’t respond— he’s left frozen on the ground, and you’re frowning at the sight as you slowly make your way to him; you approach him slowly, as though you were approaching a wild animal, tense in your movements as you lean in to observe him. 
“Did you die?” you ask quietly, taking in the way he still hasn’t moved. Not an inch. You feel more concerned than you want to admit, crouching down in front of him as you bite your lip in worry. 
“Do you hate me.” the sudden words have you flinching, staring down at Yeonjun, who’s still eating dirt and flowers. You frown, scoffing at the way he weakly reaches out for you— swiftly, you slap his hand, watching the way it flops back onto the ground. 
“No— yes— a little,” you stutter out, angry at the way you bounce between responses just from the mere pathetic sight of him. 
“Can you forgive me?” he asks, the words muffled as it takes you a minute to decipher what he may be saying— you can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.  
“For what?” you ask, picking a petal off his back absentmindedly as you wait— if he could answer properly, you might consider giving in. 
“For existing.” 
God, Yeonjun was such a sap. It has you biting back a smile as you resist the urge to stroke his hair, mused and riddled with petals from his grand gesture— but his answer was not the one you were looking for, and you’re standing back up and readjusting your clothes without another word. 
“pleaaaaseee,” you hear him whine, watching the way he shrivels up into a ball— then, he’s sitting back on his legs, whipping his head up and looking at you with wide, teary eyes. 
“Please take the flowers with you at least,” he pouts, thrusting the bouquet— or, whatever was left of it— up at you with pleading eyes.
Pressing your lips together, you sigh; a moment passes before you’re taking the gift from him begrudgingly, ignoring the way he perks up happily at your action. 
“I’m still mad at you,” you hiss, and he immediately deflates at your words, “Don’t visit my class like that again. Please.” 
He says nothing, left to watch as you turn your back to him and walk away; he has yet to get up, his heart pounding against his chest as he watches the way you hug the flowers close to you, shaking your head at the state of them. 
This was… progress. 
But you’re still mad at him. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
TUESDAY
Visiting you in class was a big no. 
Visiting you in general, however, wasn’t off-limits.
You don’t want to talk to him? Fine, he can understand. In fact, he won’t talk to you at all— a feat much greater said than done— but hey, he always loved staring at you anyway. 
Well, it’s a little hard to stare by the way you’ve propped up textbooks around your face like a fort. 
He’s staring. He’s still staring. You can practically feel his puppy-eyed gaze burn into your brain telepathically; no matter how hard you try to focus on your work, it’s become damn near impossible with the way you can feel Yeonjun’s presence, your neck beginning to ache from the way you’ve remained ducked down this whole time. 
It was easy to deal with at first; you chose not to do anything the moment you saw Yeonjun emerge from the staircase and onto the top floor of the library— otherwise known as the quietest level. 
He wouldn’t be able to talk to you without disturbing the peace of others— and potentially being asked to leave— so you decided to not make a scene and go back to studying, even when you felt his eyes lock on your figure and beeline to you. 
He sat across from you first. Though, you were quick to move, pretending as though you were looking for a book as you quickly ran away to the other side of the library. You felt the way his eyes followed you the whole time— he looked like a kicked puppy, and damn did that stupid tactic of his always work, because you even felt yourself pausing for a second, wondering if you should give in and talk to him. 
But, you are a horrendously petty person.
You were holed up in some random corner. You didn’t even know there was a table there until today, the spot so secluded and quiet that you silently celebrated getting him off your trail.
It was peaceful— for like, a good ten minutes. 
You didn’t think much of it when you first heard it; footsteps, slow and calculated as they rounded about the bookshelves. You could hear the sound of books being pulled out clear as day, though you chose to ignore it all and keep focus on your assignments instead. 
After a moment, the footsteps disappeared. 
It was back to being completely silent. And, in your bored state, you began to look around the area you were huddled up in; curiously, you allowed yourself to walk around, reading the spines and pulling out books that seemed to pique your interest even slightly. 
There seemed to be another person here as well— maybe it was the same person as before, or maybe it was someone new— you didn’t pay mind to it nonetheless, continuing your journey as your eyes locked in on a particularly colorful book.
Slowly, you pulled it out— on the other side, you watched the book adjacent to yours slowly get pulled out as well, and a smile tugged at your lips at the odd coincidence. 
Then, your eyes met with Yeonjun’s. 
His gaze filled with admiration was only returned with a mean scowl from you. You were quick to shove the book back into its place, storming off to your table without a moment’s hesitation. 
Yeonjun was quickly able to find your hiding spot— one might think you could cry from the way you buried your face into your hands defeatedly, refusing to look up from your dark refuge as the sounds of a chair scraping against the carpeted floors met your ears. 
That’s how you found yourself here, ignoring what people might think as you hide behind your fortress of textbooks. You didn’t feel good staying in a secluded area with Yeonjun— not because you thought he might try to do anything— but because you were afraid of your own resolve crumbling, especially after you’d spent so much time trying to ignore him. 
You wonder if he’s still here. Who are you kidding, of course he’s still here, though you can’t really bring yourself to check and see for yourself. 
After a while, you hear scribbling sounds. 
You can’t hide the way you jump as a piece of paper hits your head, folded into a perfect heart and landing in front of you with a dull thud. 
Open me :( it says, and though you wish you could say you were strong enough to ignore it, you definitely aren’t.
Can you pls let me look at u at least?
You don’t get much of a moment to process the message. Another paper lands directly in front of you, shaped into a heart and scrawled with the same words as the last— slowly, you open it, dreading what might be written inside this time. 
I miss you so so so so so much. 
You shake your head at his words. Sliding the paper to the side, you ignore his request, choosing to focus on your work instead of giving in to his silly tactics. After a moment, you wonder if you’ll be getting another paper— instead, nothing happens; the sigh of relief you let out is almost comical, your body relaxing a bit as you allow yourself to wonder if he’s finally left. 
That was your second mistake. 
Because after a few minutes, another paper hits you. It’s another heart, and you find that you don’t need to open it this time, the message scrawled on top for easier access. 
I’m sorry. 
Another paper flies over your fortress.
I’m sorry.
Then, another. 
Pls forgive me.
Then another. And another, and another, and another. 
Pls, I hate making you mad. I feel so gross and sad rn. I seriously can’t go a day without you. I miss you sm, pls :(((
You feel like you’re under attack— the way he continues to throw paper after paper is rhythmic and almost impressive, the endless stream of hearts covering your keyboard and forcing you to sweep them to the side after seconds. 
It’s useless to study. How can you, when Yeonjun keeps throwing his apologies at you? It’s stupid and childish and is enough for you to take your textbooks down, your jaw clenched and your eyes pointed in a sharp glare that has Yeonjun pausing in his actions. 
There’s a small pile of hearts next to him. 
Neither of you move— he’s frozen mid-throw, his eyes widening as though he can’t grasp the fact that you’re actually looking at him— even if it’s filled with rage and annoyance. 
Slowly, the corners of his lips curl up— you can’t find it in you to react as he throws the paper in his hands, feeling the way it smacks right onto your forehead before it falls to the table. 
Can I show u how sorry I am??
You don’t seem to think of the consequences as you reach for your bag in the seat next to you— devoid of anything except a few pencils and your hoodie— and throw it at him, watching the way he yelps in surprise, your bag spilling out it’s few contents all over the floor. The sound is enough to have the people around you glancing at your table, curious or angry at the sound of the ruckus. 
You’re worked up and huffing as you watch Yeonjun scramble to gather the spilled contents of your bag, watching as he stutters out whispered apologies between his actions. 
“Excuse me,” the hand on your shoulder is firm as you twist your head to look at the librarian, your expression falling at the realization of what you’ve just done. 
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 
Whipping your head around, you meet eyes with a sheepish and guilty Yeonjun, gritting your teeth as he holds out your bag for you to take. 
Wordlessly, you snatch it from him, shoving your computer and the rest of your items into it before you’re turning around to face the librarian; you whisper out a soft “I’m so sorry” as you bow in apology, waiting for her to leave before you’re facing Yeonjun again. 
I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, he mouths to you, though you ignore it all as you choose to whack his shoulder with your very-full bag instead; the pained whimper he lets out has you gritting your teeth in irritation, watching the way he pouts up at you as he rubs his arm pathetically. 
“Don’t pull this shit again,” you hiss out, storming off before he can get another word out. 
There goes all his progress. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
WEDNESDAY
Today has been an oddly nice day.
It’s nice— too nice, you wonder, pondering what may be different enough to have you walking with a smile on your face, appreciating the beautiful weather in a light mood. 
A guy your age is leaning against a tree up ahead. He holds a bouquet of roses, and you smile at the way he seems to be passing one out to every person that passes him. That’s so sweet, you think to yourself, and you can’t help the way your stomach twists in anticipation the moment his eyes meet yours. 
“Would you like a rose?” he asks you, his blond hair shining under the sunlight as he sends you a bright smile— you don’t hesitate to say yes, taking the flower from him with a cute thank you! 
The flower is in full bloom as you twirl it between your fingers absentmindedly. The smile on your face is seemingly permanent as you make your way to your favorite cafe, though as you think back to the interaction, you can’t help but wonder if you know that man from somewhere.
It isn’t until you stop at a crosswalk that you notice it— there’s a tag on the rose, and though you initially thought it was just a price tag, you realize that it’s something else; pausing before you cross the street, you take a moment to tilt your head and read it, feeling your jaw drop as your brain registers the words in disbelief. 
Yeonjun says he’s sorry.
“What the fuck,” you mutter to yourself, ripping it off without hesitation and shoving it into your pocket— you definietly recognize the man from earlier, you realize— that was Hueningkai!
You roll your eyes at Yeonjun’s weak ploy to talk to you— you can’t help the way it leaves you irritated as you stand in line to order, trying your best to recite your regular order to the barista with a smile on your face, the man before you giving you a dimpled smile before he’s off to make it.
By the time you get your order, you’ve calmed down— you’re quick to exit and make your way back towards campus, using this small break between classes to study again. (without Yeonjun around, hopefully.) 
Your fingers are absentminded as you trace over the printed sticker on the side of the cup that has your order printed on it, glancing down at the text before you take another sip. 
Yeonjun is really sorry.
…What? 
You were more unnerved than anything. The lengths Yeonjun had gone through to communicate almost concerned you, though all you could do at this point was rip the sticker off and shove it in your pocket, ignoring it like the other one. You wracked your mind for answers as you began to wonder if you had seen that barista anywhere else, and after a moment, you settled on the vague conclusion that you think you’ve seen him in Yeonjun’s frat house before. 
He’s so annoying, you sigh to yourself, rubbing at your temples as you fear an upcoming headache. 
You’re startled back to life at the sight of a puppy running up to you— you’re frowning at the sight, unsure of what to do as it stops right at your feet, jumping up on you and barking excitedly— almost like it recognized you— squinting, you observe the dog. 
Oh god, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you do recognize this damn dog.
“Matcha, who let you out,” you huff, leaning down to scoop the tiny dog into your arms— in the distance, you can see someone running in your direction, though you choose to ignore it as you notice Matcha’s brand new collar. 
Yeonjun misses you more than anything. 
The words are wrapped around his collar, leaving you to throw your head back and groan at the sight; the footsteps are much louder than before, and you’re looking forward again as you spot yet another familiar face. 
“Beomgyu,” you sneer, shoving Matcha into his awaiting hands. All he can do is laugh sheepishly, muttering out what a coincidence! Petting Matcha, he pauses, giving you an expectant look that only leaves you confused.
“Could you forgive him?”
“Go away!” you say in return, weaving out of his way and practically running off to the library; you can hear Matcha barking at you, though you choose to ignore it as Beomgyu’s calls of your name fuel you further. 
You feel out of breath by the time you finally enter the library, finding the nearest help desk and beginning to rummage through your bag for any books you need renewed— the librarian simply smiles at you patiently as he waits, adjusting his glasses before he quickly turns around to get something— by the time he’s back, you’ve laid out your books for him, thanking him quietly as you watch him renew them quickly.
When he slides them back towards you, you frown— there’s a bookmark on top of your small stack of books, laminated and shiny under the lights as you pick it up to get rid of the glare— reading it, you can already feel the need to tear it, though it seems as this cheeky worker is already one step ahead of you. 
Yeonjun just wants to talk to you again.
Three ways to better communication in a relationship:
The glare you send the worker— Taehyun, his name tag reads— is lethal, though he doesn’t seem to be affected by it as he simply sends you an innocent smile. Without another word, you gather your books, shoving them into your bag as you turn to leave.
“Ignoring him won’t solve anything,” he calls out quietly, though you don’t seem to appreciate the advice by the way you don’t even bother to turn back and react. Instead, you walk right back out, storming home as you type on your phone furiously. 
my baby :((
stop using others to relay messages damn it!!!
my baby :((
and don’t use matcha against me you loser!!!!!!
Through his end, Yeonjun is just happy that you’re texting him— though, the mean name is not much appreciated. 
Choi Yeonjun. 
can you pls let me talk to you instead?
You don’t bother opening the notification. 
That was your third mistake.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
THURSDAY
Today has been relatively peaceful. You have yet to be bothered today— no Yeonjun, no Matcha, and certainly none of his friends. 
Maybe because he was aware of your plans today; you did tell him a while ago about your reunion with one of your friends, always chatting his ear off about how excited you were to finally see her again—it slightly warms your heart to know that he actually listens to you.
Well. Most of the time. 
“You’re fighting right now?” Tzuyu asks, leaning forward in her seat with wide eyes. You didn’t expect this sudden change of topic, but you can only nod grimly in response, watching as she sighs in dismay at your situation. 
“Wow, you guys never fight— at least, not to this level,” she’s deep in thought over your relationship as she frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares down at her empty plate— you both chose to forgo dessert, and now you wait patiently for your check.
“Well, what are you guys even fighting about?” 
“It’s just—“ you’re cut off by your server placing the check in between the two of you, thanking him with a smile on your face before you’re freezing; you’re unsure of what to make of the plate that he places before you, stuttering out unintelligible sentences that you didn’t order… whatever this was. 
“Free of charge,” the man says, before bowing politely and scurrying away; you’re barely able to get a word out before you huff in defeat, looking back at the treat in front of you as you take in Tzuyu’s amused laughter.
“What?” you ask, frowning as you watch her turn the plate towards you— you’re left a bit speechless by what you see, mouth falling open as your brain attempts to comprehend how you should react to this. 
It’s dessert— well, more specifically, three full scoops of ice cream, the caramel drizzle and other toppings decorating it to make it look like a cat; more specifically, a sad cat. All along the plate, more caramel drizzle decorates it to form a sentence. 
I miss you. Please, talk to me. YJ. 
Your head snaps up in the direction the waiter went in; looking out the small window of the kitchen door, you spot none other than Yeonjun, his eyes widening before he’s ducking out of the way like a deer in headlights. 
“How the fuck did he get back there?!” you cry out, running a hand down your face in disbelief— but no, one more glance back in his direction is enough to catch him peeking at you again, flinching in surprise before he’s ducking out of your sight once more. 
“Who let him in there?” you hiss, placing your head in your hands as Tzuyu merely laughs; you ignore the way she begins to dig into the dessert after you express that you won’t touch it, humming happily that it was a sweet gesture. 
A moment’s thought is able to remind you where you are— in Beomgyu’s older brother’s restaurant, of course. 
Defeatedly, you open the checkbook to offer to pay— though the price has your eyes practically bulging out, reading and re-reading the strange excuse of a check this waiter has brought to you. 
Your meal was free. 
The only thing you read on the paper was a poor excuse of Yeonjun replacing the food items with “i miss you”s and “i’m sorry”s, the sight baffling you as Tzuyu turns the check towards her in curiosity. 
“Interesting,” she hums, closing the checkbook before she’s fishing for tip money, “Are you sure you wanna lose a guy like him?”
You take a second to think her question through. 
Yet another mistake on your part. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
FRIDAY
Remembering what happened today is enough to have your head hurting— so, you’ll keep it short.
You were working— working, minding your own business, prey to unsuspecting events— when it happened. 
Fridays were always rush days. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think to pay attention to your surroundings, to the blasting music, the yell of your coworkers calling out drinks and names, or to the endless chatter of the customers around you. 
You should have paid attention— maybe, if you did, you would’ve been able to spare yourself the embarrassment— another mistake of yours, if you will. 
The break of music from the radio was not what caught your attention— radio hosts do it all the time, speaking in between songs with useless chatter as they find a song to play next— no, what did catch your attention, however, was the eerily familiar voice, and worse, the eerily familiar message he broadcasted all over your local station. 
“This next song is called Seven,” he spoke, smooth, suave, and relaxing as the track rolled in quietly in the background, “a song about a man more than willing to show how devoted he is to his to his partner— ___, come home, the kids miss you— well, more like Matcha, but still.”
You could feel your coworkers freeze around you. You could feel their gazes slowly drift to you, could feel the way customers got a good look at the decorated name tag you once showed off proudly. 
“Is— is he…?” your coworker whispered beside you, watching the way you caved into yourself in attempts to hide your nametag, “is he that frat boy you were talking about?”
“No.” you say, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you focus on making your drink instead, “No. That’s not him. This isn’t about me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“___, I’ll keep waiting for you patiently. Have a good shift today.” 
Christ!
Your coworkers could only laugh lightheartedly at his words— they found it cute, which was even worse for you, because all you could wonder was how the fuck he was able to get into the broadcast station— this time, you seriously couldn’t figure out any ties between him and the place. 
“Looks like he won’t give up,” to say you were horrified at the way a customer told you this was an understatement, her eyes alight with amusement as she spoke to you with a tone so genuine you almost thought she was in on it— fuck, maybe she was— “if anything, you should turn him down soon before he goes too far.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out, tired of these constant antics as you thought over her words, forced to go through the rest of your shift pretending as though Yeonjun hadn’t broadcasted his pleading message to the whole city— well, more like anyone who was listening to the local radio station willingly.
You feel like you’re on The Truman Show, or something.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
SATURDAY
You were scared to talk to Yeonjun. 
Scared— why were you scared? You don’t know why, but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him a text message, pacing around your room like an idiot instead as you wondered what you would tell him. 
Would you talk? Would you finally break up with him?
The way your stomach sank with dread at the mere thought of the second option was enough of an answer for you— no, you shouldn’t break up with him.
However, it was storming today— there was no way in hell you would be going outside to meet him in such weather, so you opted to psych yourself up to send him a text message asking to meet up instead.
You were pacing around your room again when you noticed it. 
There’s a bright umbrella outside— shit, you recognize that umbrella, you realize with a heavy dread, walking up to your window and pulling your curtains open as you stare out in dismay.
Why the fuck is Yeonjun outside right now?
It’s perfect timing, the way his umbrella raises to show his figure; oh my god, you think to yourself, biting your lip as you take his expression in, he’s crying!
This was not your intention. You never meant to hurt Yeonjun like this, but you also were not ready to see him yet— so, with a slight pang in your heart, you shut the curtains again, leaving just enough of a crack to make sure that he’ll leave.
Instead, he stayed there. In true Yeonjun fashion, squinting up at your window in hopes that you’d at least tell him to go away. Instead, he watched as you peeked through the crack of the curtains, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you thought you were being discreet with your actions. 
Slowly, Yeonjun turns his phone to you; there’s writing flashing by in his phone, though you have to squint your eyes and wait for the whole sentence to roll by to see what he’s trying to tell you now. 
I know you don’t… want to see me… right now but I … seriously just need… to know what I … did wrong. 
God. Fuck. This whole “ghosting” ordeal was harder than it should be when someone like Yeonjun was involved. 
 It’s been like… a week and you… still haven’t talked… to me.
Oh, the guilt is seriously eating you up right now. You weren’t supposed to ignore him for days on end, but each time Yeonjun reached out for you, you couldn’t control the way you ran away in return, still hurt by the things he didn’t even realize he did.
You’ve finally gotten a good grasp of his obliviousness.
I’m sorry… I love you… I love you… I love you…
Only three words are rolling by on his phone now. You think you’ve gotten the gist of what he’s trying to tell you as you sink to the floor, out of sight and exasperated as you reach for your phone to make a call. 
“Hello?”
“Please come get Yeonjun. He’s outside my apartment in the freezing rain.”
“Uhm, let him in then?”
“I— I can’t,” you mutter sheepishly as you feel your face heating up, your stomach sinking as you hear Beomgyu scoffing on the other side of the line, “I don’t want to talk to him right now. Not like this.”
“Then I guess he’ll stay out in the freezing rain.” 
“He’ll get sick!” you say, and it’s only now that you feel stupid for this push and pull you’ve created, “please. I’m begging you.” 
“You need to talk to him.”
“I want to. I will.” you say, placing a hand on your forehead as you sigh, “Tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” 
A pause. Then, you hear rustling, and the sounds of Beomgyu grumbling quietly to himself.
“I’ll go get him,” he says, and you can feel yourself sink further against the wall in relief, “you better not back out on your word, okay?”
“Okay.” 
You hope you’re not making a mistake. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
SUNDAY
This is awkward. You feel awkward. You probably look awkward, too. 
Yeonjun, for once, looks just as awkward and tense before you. His whole body is rigid as he sits on your couch, feeling more like a stranger in your home than the man you’ve spent the past few months with, the way his eyes wander around making you feel like it’s his first time here. 
“Yeonjun,” you sigh out, catching his attention as his eyes zero in on you immediately; you feel nervous under his gaze, unsure of what to say as your brain begins to stutter, your mouth opening and closing in hopes that a proper sentence will come out.
“What did I do wrong?” he cries out, snapping you out of your troubled reverie as your eyes meet his— they’re glossy, and you’re afraid he might just start crying again if you look away, “can we start there?”
“You— you seriously don’t know?” you ask, bewildered by his question as you sit back on your couch— Yeonjun simply shakes his head reverently in response, and you’re blinking owlishly at him as you stare at him in disbelief. 
“We didn’t have any arguments before this,” he says, nibbling on his lip as he thinks back to the moment you yelled at him, tearing his arm off you as he attempted to keep you from running away, “You just snapped at me then disappeared— I, I want to know what I did wrong, at least.”
“Yeonjun you—“ you’re dragging a hand down your cheek as you clench your jaw, taking a second to breathe to not snap at him again, “that’s the problem, you’re just so— so oblivious, I seriously thought you’d be able to put two and two together by now!” 
Oh, oh this is embarrassing; you should not be getting worked up right now, your hands immediately coming up to hide your face as you hear Yeonjun cooing out your name softly— he’s next to you at the speed of light, attempting to take your hands away as he quietly tells you to breathe in his stupid, calming voice. 
“You’re always at those stupid parties, you stupid frat boy—“ you’re stuttering through your sentences, the heat in your face humiliating as you feel your emotions finally tumbling down, “and I know I told you I’m okay with it— I am, I really am— but what I’m not okay with is how fucking flirty you are!”
You can feel Yeonjun’s hands stiffen; slowly, his mouth drops in shock, his face beginning to pale as he realizes just why you’re mad at him. 
“I’ve told you— time, and time again— that, that I don’t like when you feed into people like that, that you never reject advances and tell them that you have a fucking girlfriend,” you know he never means it in a harmful way. You know that, nine times out of ten, Yeonjun doesn’t even realize those advances are happening, but it’s always just as painful to watch, knowing that charming attitude and cheeky voice is exactly how he got you, “and it just makes me feel so… so stupid and jealous and unwanted!” 
You feel out of breath by the time you finish. Though you remain silent and try to calm yourself, you instead begin to feel more anger festering inside you as you take in Yeonjun’s face, full of dread and realization as he begins to think back to how he was acting back at the frat party that caused this mess. 
Yeonjun was used to people acting the way they did around him. It never fazed him, and most of the time he simply followed along because he found it fun. No, he never thought of having anyone else but you, you’re his everything— though, he does realize how inconsiderate he’s been of your feelings now. 
“Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his words genuine and filled with guilt as he cups your face gently, “I didn’t know.”
“Fuck!” Your response is unprecedented as you shake his hands off you, pushing him back and forcing him to lay across the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. He’s unable to do anything as he watches the way you throw your legs on each side of his waist, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him up as you sneer at him.
“That’s your problem, you just don’t know—!” pushing him back on the couch, he lets out a soft oof! unable to help the way his stomach swirls in anticipation of your next move, “You’re just too stupid, you don’t know anything unless someone spells it out for you!”
Shit. Yeonjun has never seen you like this, frustrated and restless as you shift above him, your eyes alight with rage as you begin tugging your hoodie over your head; his eyes widen comically at the action, shifting nervously under you as he realizes that oh, you’re not wearing a bra. 
“You’ve seriously left me wondering if you’re even taking this relationship seriously, it’s ridiculous!” Yeonjun feels like he’s been left on autopilot as he lets you tug him up again; he’s sitting up, hands hovering precariously as you glare at him, the sight enough to have him gulping nervously.
“I— I do,” he stutters out, watching as you send him an accusing look, “I do, I do I do, I take you so seriously, and fuck, I haven’t been thinking of anyone but you all week.” 
“Yeah?” you ask him, patronizing and unexpectedly mean as you look down at him, “You never fucking act like it.”
“Yes I do—!” he yells out, though it’s cut off by the way you sit down firmly in his lap, a hand threading into his hair and yanking at the roots as you tug his head back cruelly, “I’ve shown you this whole week just how much I think about you…” 
Yeonjun is hard. Painfully so, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get turned on so quickly— it’s enough to have you laughing breathily, tugging on his hair again and listening to the way he only lets out a high whine in response.
“What you’ve shown me this week,” you hiss, bringing him close to you, your lips grazing against his as you speak, “is that you’re a desperate bitch that doesn’t know how to be patient.”
“You were ignoring me,” he fights back, letting out a breathy wince at the way your grip tightens on his hair, “you’ve been so mean to me—!”
Yeonjun doesn’t get another word in on the matter. The way you bite his lip ruthlessly and sneak your tongue into his mouth has you feeling the way he practically turns to putty under you, his cheeks just as red as his lips as he gasps against your own, feeling the way you begin to grind against his cock without remorse. 
“Me? I’ve been mean to you?” you wonder out loud, hands running down his chest before you’re tugging his shirt up; you don’t bother taking it off as it rests against his chest, leaning him back and running your hands over his skin as you take in the way his stomach twitches in response. “do you know how many people think they’ve actually got a chance with you, all because you refuse to use common sense and say, oh, I’ve got a girlfriend!” 
Yeonjun shakes his head; there’s no way your words are true, especially when he’s literally obsessed with you. But of course, you’re always right— which is exactly why you’re fueled to rake your nails down his skin, leaving him to hiss and twitch at the feeling of your acrylics digging into his stomach and leaving bright, red scratch marks— acrylics he paid for because he thought they were pretty, the reminder only making his cock twitch pathetically. 
“There’s no one in this world that has a chance with me but you,” Yeonjun insists, pouting at the way you only scoff at his words, “I’ve never done anything to fuel other people’s strange fantasies.”
“God, you’re stupid,” you say, and Yeonjun thinks he must’ve lost his mind from the way he can feel a whine building up in his throat, “and to think I found that endearing.”
“You’re so mean,” he pouts— though he’s quick to regret it, letting out a loud cry as you begin grinding against him, able to feel the warmth of your pussy through the thin shorts you wear, your breast bouncing from the way your body begins to move. 
“You don’t like it?” You ask, tilting your head to watch as he merely shakes his head in response— all you can do is plant yourself to where you can feel his length pressed up against your slit, throbbing against you as you pout at him in false pity, “no you don’t like it, or no you do?”
“I— I…” he doesn’t know how to respond; it seems as though Yeonjun hasn’t figured out the response for himself, but you can feel it from the way his hips buck up into yours, stuttering and without rhythm as he remains defenseless under you. 
“You do like it,” you say, mocking at the way he only whimpers from the feeling of your nails digging into his hips, “Feels nice to be on the receiving end, baby?”
Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, this was strange and new and Yeonjun was definitely enjoying himself more than he thought he should, a melted pile of remorse and love as he pathetically waited for your next move, doe eyes staring up at you as he felt his mouth part, unable to say anything as he gave in to the mean look you sent him. 
“Been waiting patiently for me, hmm?” you ask him, thinking back to his earlier words as you watch him nod eagerly in confirmation, “So you bothering me every day of the week was you being patient?”
“I just wanted to talk,” Yeonjun whines out, chest heaving at the way you begin rolling your hips against his, your rhythm firm and dangerous as he feels weak moans leaving him like a stream, “but you— you kept avoiding me, I wanted to get some confirmation that you didn’t break up with me that day…!”
“Yeah?” you mock him, your voice just as whiny and breathy as his as you lean down to him; placing your hands on his chest, you tilt your head, grinding your cunt against him in a way that has him panting and looking for someplace to grab onto, “and did you get your answer?”
Yeonjun doesn’t even think he registered what you said. All he knows is that the way you’re sitting on him is genuinely cruel, especially with the way he hasn’t felt your body against his in so long. His mind is muddled and he can feel himself losing control from the way his hips begin to buck up, his brain going blank except for the thought that he hasn’t felt you against him in what seems like ages, his body so pent up with frustration that he can’t help but chase after the slight pleasure you offer him. 
Yeonjun’s mind has blanked out. You can see it in his face, the way it’s twisted with pleasure as he fails to respond to you, body bucking up into you so wildly that you have to steady yourself with two hands pressed firmly against his chest, your balance getting screwed over at his attempts to fuck up into you. 
The feeling of your warm hands is enough to bring Yeonjun back, eyes widening in realization as his eyes meet yours, clouded with so much need that it has Yeonjun slowing his pace immediately.
“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he stutters out, eyes widening at the way your cunt is practically leaking onto him— he can feel it through the layers of clothes, “wait wait wait, I’m so— ah, please— so… sososo close, baby, please…!”
“Wait?” you echo, brows furrowing as he nods frantically in response, “thought you didn’t like waiting?”
“No, please, please,” he whimpers, though his hips don’t stop their mindless rutting into your warm cunt, “please, don’t wanna come like this, wanna be inside you.”
“No?” you repeat, the mocking tone of your voice making his eyes screw shut, “why don’t you stop then? It’s all up to you.”
Oh, of course he can stop— though, that doesn’t mean he will, your hips slowly grinding against his as you watch the way his mouth falls open, not a sound falling past it before his hips buck up into you wildly— slowly, you feel a warmth spread beneath you, Yeonjun’s eyes screwed tightly as tears begin to peek from the corners. 
“Nooooo nonono, no, not like this,” he cried quietly to himself, ever the hypocrite as his hands fly to your waist, riding out his orgasm with loud, shameless moans. 
“Oh, my baby,” you say, pouting at the way he apologizes to you under his breath, “Is that it? Are you done now?”
“No, not done,” he’s quick to respond despite his rattled state of mind, looking up at you through bleary eyes. 
“No?” you hum, taking a moment to watch him carefully. 
“No,” he repeats, breathless as his grip tightens on your hips— even through the sensitivity, you can still feel his hips roll up into yours, quiet whimpers and whines leaving him as he does so— though, he can’t find it in himself to stop, at least not with the way he has yet to feel you around him. 
“God, this is so pitiful,” you say, frowning at the way Yeonjun struggles to sit up underneath you; you’re cupping his face as he looks up at you, teary eyes and flushed face unable to say anything as he simply leans into your touch— the way you coo softly has him pouting, and you can’t resist the urge to hover over his lips, teasing him with a smile as you brush over them, placing chaste kisses that only have him chasing you for more. 
“What a good bitch,” you hiss, feeling the way his hands have wandered up to play with your breasts, obsessed as always as his fingers tug and circle your nipples, eager to feel them harden under his touch, “doesn’t matter how many times you cum, hmm? Just need to make me feel good?”
“Yes, yes yes yes,” he babbles, wincing and moaning at the way your lips have begun to wander along his neck, nipping and sucking and leaving enough marks that a person could spot from far away with ease; the way your teeth sink into his skin practically has him crying, and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest the moment he feels you pause, your nose nuzzling into the spot behind his ear, your breath ticklish on his skin as you laugh. 
“Are you wearing my perfume, junie?” You mumble, hearing the way he can only whine in embarrassment; he doesn’t answer you, and you bite at his earlobe softly as you wait, silently demanding a response as his hands fall to your hips, gripping them pathetically as though his life depended on it. 
“I missed you,” he repeats, the words making you roll your eyes as your hand finds itself in his hair; you’re tugging at it, tilting his head and exposing his neck to you as you begin to nose along the column, closing your eyes to confirm if this is really your scent, “couldn’t smell you on my clothes anymore, love your scent s’much, ah…”
His neck has always been sensitive; that’s exactly why you choose to focus on it so much, not leaving until it’s covered with your marks and his tears have run down them, his soft sniffles making you glance up as you take him in, overstimulated and a mess as he bites his lip in an attempt to quiet himself.
“Too much, baby?” You coo, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back comfortingly, watching as he shakes his head adamantly, his wide eyes shiny and tear-filled as he looks up at you.
“No,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you towards him; his face is buried in your chest, and you can’t hold back the gasp you let out as his mouth immediately attaches itself to your breast, plump lips sucking at it as his tongue runs along it, messy and spit-filled as he looks back up at you, grinding you into him with weak whimpers, “want you to use me, you can do anything you want to me, just wanna please you.”
“Such a good boy for me, junie,” you say, his eyes fluttering close at your fond comment. “Are you gonna listen to me, for once?”
“I always listen to you,” he insists, and you feel irked by his words as you scoff.
“Like hell you do,” you sneer, easily angered as he shrinks down from your cold gaze, “Show me then— strip.”
Yeonjun is eager to listen, eager to please; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get undressed so quickly, kicking off his pants and throwing his shirt off in some random direction as he looks up at you expectantly, his cock a mess and already beginning to harden as your eyes fall to it.
“Hard already?” You muse, watching the way his cheeks blush red at your comment. Your hand is teasing as you wrap your fingers around his length, your perfect nails shining under the light as you slowly begin to move up and down, the cum from his previous orgasm guiding your movements as he begins to twitch under you, crying softly at the overstimulation. 
“Guess you weren’t lying,” you sigh out, finger swiping over his throbbing tip as you hear him yelp at the feeling, “just a cute body for me to use, hmm? You’re nothing but a dick for me to get myself off on?”
Yeonjun is mindlessly agreeing with you— your words are clearly affecting him, his cock leaking and throbbing in your hand, making a mess of it as his head falls back, throat displaying all the marks you left on him earlier like a trophy.
His head is snapping back up the moment you sink onto him. You’re warm, tight, and so fucking wet, his body jolting at the feeling of you clenching around him, taking him inch by inch as he feels the way your walls stretch to adjust to him.
“Fuck…” you hiss, your arousal practically dripping on him from how good he feels— “Yeonjun, shit.”
“Waiiittt, wait, oh god, no— don’t say my name like that, fuck,” Yeonjun begins moaning, your lips quirking into a smile as you watch his eyes screw shut, already knowing what’s coming from the way he holds onto you tighter, head buried into your chest as he tries to still your hips.
“Hmm? What’s wrong?” You ask, feigning innocence as you roll your hips into him, moaning dramatically as you do, “Oh, Yeonjun, Yeonjun— fuck, junie, you feel so good, feel so full…”
He’s shaking his head hopelessly; you know what you’re doing to him, and he feels pathetic by the way he loses his senses the more you sink onto him, his cock twitching in you uncontrollably as he warns you to stop, stop, stop before I…!
“This is embarrassing, Yeonjunie,” you pout, feeling the way a warmth spreads inside you the moment you sit on his hips snugly, feeling him bottomed out inside you as he attempts to muffle his sounds. His ears are bright red and he refuses to show you his face as he keeps you close to him, his arms still hugging you flush against him as you feel the valley of your breasts become wet with his tears. 
“Why are you crying, hmm?” You ask him, looking down to see the way he still hides his face, “You’ve already come twice, shouldn’t you be happy? You’re so easy, Yeonjunie.”
Your words are degrading, your voice cold as continue to mock him— and though you pretend otherwise, you can feel the way he ruts his hips into you with every mean comment, clearly enjoying himself more than he lets on as he lets out a broken cry against your skin. 
“Fuck, are you seriously getting off to this?” You snap, bored with pretending as though you don’t feel your boyfriend clinging to you tighter as you degrade him, “You’re such a fucking slut— you get off to anything, don’t you?”
The way you pull him away from your skin is sudden and rough, a soft yelp leaving him as he’s finally forced to face you, eyes fluttering open and meeting your own, your face twisted in annoyance as you look down at him.
“Acting like a bitch in heat, already came twice from nothing,” you grit, rolling your hips against his as you watch the way his eyes roll back— your other hand comes up to grip his cheeks, digging into the flesh and squeezing them together as he pouts at you, eyes welling with tears as he feels your nails dig into him.
“Don’t you feel bad? How am I supposed to get myself off if you can barely keep your dick up for more than a minute?” Your eyes darken at the way he simply lets out a pathetic sorry, ‘m so sorry baby, “What? I don’t think I heard you right.”
Your pussy feels so good around him; Yeonjun is barely able to think straight from the way you’ve begun to bounce on his cock ruthlessly, the sight of your breasts bouncing before him hypnotizing as you jerk his head back up to look at you, towering over him and demanding as you slow your hips to a mean grind.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whines out, his words incoherent and mushed together as you keep a hold of his face, listening as you hiss out for what? “‘M sorry for being so impatient— ah, ah, please— ngh, sorry for coming too soon, sorry for…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. He can’t find the ability to, distracted by the way your sounds have picked up, your fingers rubbing circles on your clit as you continue to use his cock like a toy; his cheeks feel sore as he stares at you with wide eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure, your rhythm become sloppy as you feel your legs getting tired. 
You didn’t think Yeonjun would pick up on it; without any warning, you find your back colliding against the couch, your eyes widening as you feel Yeonjun still settled in between your legs, cock still nestled deeply inside you; he’s still a pouty mess above you, hands gripping onto your hips as he begins rutting into you, his thrusts rough and out of control as he takes in your figure hungrily. 
“Sorry for making you feel unwanted,” Yeonjun babbles, feeling you throw your arms around his neck from the sudden confession, bringing him in close as you feel his face hover above your own, “I only want you, want you to use me and mark me so others know who I belong to, I’m all yours baby— please, please please please tell me you’re close, wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna make you feel good, missed you, missed this pussy, fuck, mmh, ugh, feel so good, so good, soso good, please, baby—“
Yeonjun thinks you’re something of an aphrodisiac to him; at least, that must be the explanation if he’s able to cum the moment he feels you unravel around him, unrestrained and addicted to the feeling as he listens to your pretty sounds, practically melting as he hears your voice purring under him— so good, fuck, you’re all mine Yeonjunie, all mine…
You don’t think you’ve ever felt Yeonjun cum this much— his cock continues to twitch and release inside you even after you’ve come down from your high, the man above you burying his head into the crook of your neck as he cries softly at the feeling, unable to help the way his hips buck forward to ride out his orgasm.
This shift in dynamic is new— but it’s addicting, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the way Yeonjun clings to you, his head hazy and needy for your comfort as he lays on top of you, uncaring of how heavy he may be as he wraps his strong arms around you. 
Missed you s’much baby, missed you, please don’t do that again, you could hear him mutter into your skin, a bit out of it as he peppered kisses along your collarbones.
“Alright, alright, I won’t,” you breathe out, running your fingers through his hair soothingly as he leans into your touch like a cat, “I’m sorry I kept running away from you.”
“But then again,” you trail off, tightening your grip on his hair teasingly, feeling the way he immediately whines softly, “you should’ve given me space when I asked you to. It was kinda cute, but don’t do that again— okay?”
“Okay. Of course. Whatever you say,” his response is immediate, not an ounce of hesitation as he stares at you with eyes shining with devotion. After a second, his lips part, and he’s hovering over you again as he looks down at you in wonder. 
“Does that mean we’re boyfriend-girlfriend again?”
You laugh.
“You idiot,” you coo, placing a soft kiss on his lips, unable to control your laugh as you do, “We didn’t stop being boyfriend-girlfriend. I was just mad at you.”
“Hmm. Then, can I eat you out?” His words have you freezing, looking at him in bewilderment as he simply smiles at you sheepishly, “To like. Show you how sorry I am.”
A pause. 
“…And, because I really missed eating you out.”
You sigh— and try not to show how eager you are as you nod softly. Yeonjun however, is shameless as he immediately pulls out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s sinking to his stomach— you’re gulping at the sight. 
“You’re insatiable.” Your comment doesn’t faze him— if anything, it makes him smile, his pretty eyes staring at you with enough adoration and love that you’re squirming slightly under him.
“For you, yeah.”
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
On Monday, the sight of Yeonjun on campus is enough to have you spinning on your heels and running in the opposite direction. He wears nothing but a thin tank top, wondering why you’re yelling at him to cover up the moment he answers your phone call. 
“Why? It’s hot outside— …and, like, I wanna show everyone who I belong to.”
(You refuse to stand by his side until he covers up—though, you can’t ignore the way his words send butterflies through your stomach.)
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p0ckykiss · 6 months
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baby i'm yours - choi yeonjun
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summary - yeonjun can't think of not being by your side and you wouldn't have it any other way.
genre - fluff, falling in love, friends to lovers, sharing a room, yeonjun is whipped
"you've been clingy lately. is there something going on that i don't know about?"
yeonjun opts to shake his head, never once letting go of you who's currently squished under the heavy weight of yeonjun's body. yeonjun was left feeling the need to barge into his best friend's room and quite literally tackle you in bed. looking back at it, he figures it's due to the fact that you haven't spent as much time as before, both of you busy with individual schedules and when you did have your free time, you would either be fast asleep or on lenghty calls with your family.
yeonjun isn't upset over that.
this is one of the rare occasions, he thinks. finally getting you alone, all to himself. he missed this.
"you're lucky i already showered." your giggle makes yeonjun shuffle even closer, wrapping his arms around your warm body.
"i would've cuddled you in the shower, too. absolutely no problem."
"i have no doubts about that."
it's been proven to be a real challenge to stay away from you, even for a few minutes. he doesn't like to think of himself as a baby that needs constant attention but it may very well be the case with you and your calming presence. practically glued to your side, he closes his eyes and preens at the way his freshly washed hair is being carded through, long and gentle fingers massaging his scalp from time to time. his whole body goes limp, melting against you when your other hand lays on his broad back and works the stiffness out of his muscles. you lay like that for a while in silence, save for yeonjun's content sighs and your words of appraisal.
"i'm starting to think that you missed me real good."
yeonjun nuzzles his face further in your neck, pulling a breathy laugh from you beneath him at the ticklish movement.
"of course I did." he murmurs against your skin, voice low and affectionate. "didn't you miss me, too, ynie?" one of his hands moves from your waist and slides under your shirt, drawing circles on your skin with his finger. your chuckles turn to full blown laughter and yeonjun's heart soars.
"hey! stop that, it tickles!"
still wriggling and laughing, you try to push yeonjun off the bed. it proves to be a real challenge when he sprawls his body entirely over yours and knocks the breath out of your lungs.
"not until you say it too. do you know how hurt I am? unrequited feelings are no joke, y/n." he fake cries and you slap his back playfully.
"i missed you too, dumbass."
"now can you please move before you kill me?"
yeonjun does as told and settles back beside you, satisfied with himself as your warmth envelopes him again.
"i really mean it, yeonjun. i missed you a lot."
yeonjun can hear the smile in your voice and his heart does a somersault. he knows this feeling all too well.
"i know."
-----
----
"that's not fair! i've been playing this game for months, struggling and wasting all my nights to get this far! what about you? you just waltzed in here and swooped every critical fighter like the sly predatory bird you are!"
"how is that my fault? It's about being lucky, and clearly, luck hasn't been on your side but mine!"
"i'm about to swing this controller at you, beomgyu! don't try me, you know I'd do it."
"oh yeah? do it then."
woken up from the commotion downstairs, you sigh heavily and make your way towards the living room, immediately welcomed by two arguing boys. beomgyu and soobin, having another quarell over video games, while the rest of your roommates watch with either amusement or exasperation. your eyes scan the area until they eventually seize yeonjun's figure in the kitchen, having a glass of water. on your way to the kitchen you pass by an exhausted taehyun who pats your shoulder and moves to break the two rascals apart. you can only laugh at his poor attempts to get beomgyu off soobin's back.
pulling your gaze away from the guys, you return to staring at the object of your affection. yeonjun seems to be spacing out again, that hilarious blank expression making you shake your head in amusement. his hair sticks out in all directions and the urge to run your fingers through it is strong enough to make you do just that. approaching him silently as to not spook him, you settle behind him and caress his soft hair, making him look at least a bit presentable. yeonjun leans against you by instinct and nuzzles his head in the soft hoodie of his best friend.
"morning, sleepyhead. spacing out again?"
yeonjun sets the empty glass on the counter and turns around to circle his arms around your middle. almost falling off his chair, yeonjun looks extremely comical and you move just a bit forward to accomodate him.
"morning.." he mumbles. "the roommates woke me up."
"yeah, me too. was hoping on sleeping in for at least a few more hours."
"well, plans ruined."
"we can do something else today though. what do you say about shopping?"
the simple offer has yeonjun bouncing on his feet and all ready to go despite it being only morning. the excitement is infectious, you can feel it seep through your skin and gradually, a fond smile takes over your features.
"i'm suddenly not sleepy anymore. let's have breakfast and go."
"ramen?"
"ramen."
------
"how about this one?"
yeonjun points at a somewhat simple yet fancy silver bracelet that has an infinity symbol carved on it in the color black. he thinks it looks nice enough to show it to you so he beckons you over with a smile.
you've been shopping for clothes for approximately two hours, scanning rows and rows of clothes ranging from casual to something more expensive. both of your wardrobes needed a refresh and so it wasn't a problem of spending too much or buying too many articles. you both share a common interest for fashion, things went smoothly but there's something missing. accessories. matching ones at that.
you peek over your shoulder with great interest, eyes practically glowing at the sight of the stylish bracelet and matching necklace.
"it's cool and all but.." you snicker. "look at the price tag, yeonjun. it's crazy."
"do you like it?"
you start twirling your hair, something you do when you're embarrassed. "i mean, yeah, who wouldn't? it's totally my style. but we can't waste so much money on this. we'll go broke in no time." you laugh, pat yeonjun's shoulder and move towards the exit of the shop, seemingly ready to return to your shared apartment.
yeonjun can't possibly go home without buying the matching set and so he approaches the cashier.
"uhm, hello. may i purchase these?"
the lady looks up at him with a knowing smile. "is it a present for the person who's waiting outside?"
he can feel his face heat up at the implication of her words. "something like that. y/n really likes the bracelet."
"is that so? i happened to hear your conversation earlier." she leans closer to whisper. "we don't normally do this thing but i can make an exception for you two and sell these to you at a lower price."
"are you sure? i wouldn't want you to get in trouble-"
"it's no problem."
she's still all smiles and sunshine as she wraps up the accessories and gives them to yeonjun. he tucks them safely in his bag and thanks her a million times before finally leaving the shop and joining you. you look up at him dubiously, eyeing the bags in his hands.
"what took you so long?"
"i was..looking around some more."
"really?"
you start walking back home and the nervousness of carrying your present is enough to make his legs go limp. what will be your reaction upon seeing that he bought the matching set after all? you couldn't possibly be mad, right? he sure hopes so.
"yeah, really."
-----
freshly out of the shower, yeonjun lays in the comfort of his bed and fiddles with the bag that shelters what he just bought for you. you are still showering, he can hear the water running and the groovy tune of a song that he's been listening to lately. your voice sounds a bit muffled yet yeonjun can discern a few words here and there and the more he listens, the more his nerves subside and he finds himself spacing out a second time that day. surely nothing can go wrong, he tells himself. he'll confidently reveal the gift, place the bracelet around your wrist then wear his own necklace and call it a day.
you've always talked about wearing something memorable for the both of you and this is the perfect time for it.
he doesn't know how much time has passed but it must've been a while because in front of him stand you, hair already dry, skin flushed from the steam in the shower, comfortable sweatpants and a loose shirt already on. with a quick shake of his head, yeonjun smiles at the confused look you give him.
"seriously, what's up with you? you've been spacing out again." you point out, seemingly amused. "and why are you gripping that bag?"
"close your eyes?"
"what did you do this time, yeonjun?"
"please just close them. you'll find out."
as soon as you do as told, his hands fumble with the fancy bag and pull out the small box that holds both the bracelet and necklace, a sappy smile already on his face. he's buzzing with excitement at the prospect of him and you growing even closer.
"it's been two minutes. can I open them already?" your right leg is shaking, anxiety bubbling beneath your skin.
"oh, sorry. open them."
you take a while to adjust to whatever you're seeing in yeonjun's hand. you see the small, sophisticated box along with what's in it and you freeze. the bracelet you just saw at the shop earlier today. and a matching necklace. your palms start to sweat and your heartbeat picks up speed at the gesture. silly yeonjun can't resist buying things that you like, no matter what anyone else says. you should've known better. yeonjun is incredibily stubborn when he wants to be. you look up at him and searches his eyes, all full of adoration, pride and excitement. your heart swells, barely concealing the smile that only seems to grow wider when yeonjun fiddles with his fingers and waits for a reaction.
"you said you liked it and i..bought it. even though you said i shouldn't. i couldn't help it. if you don't want it i can return it-"
"you're a real piece of work, you know that?" you let out a breathy laugh and shuffle closer to yeonjun's flushed face, scanning each and every detail of it, engraving it in your mind. no one else has ever gone to such lenghts to make you happy. "you never listen to me, do you?"
yeonjun gulps when your fingers caress the side of his face, falls into a deep trance the more he looks into your eyes.
"i wanted to make you happy." he murmurs, closing his eyes as soon as your lips touch his forehead.
"i am happy just being here with you. material things don't have the same effect you have on me, you know? sure, they do look nice, but they could never replace you." he lets himself be pulled into your arms. "i can appreciate the meaning behind your gift though. never took you for the romantic type."
yeonjun chuckles and traces a finger across your wrist. the bracelet is carefully being clasped around it and it suits you so well that he mentally pats himself on the back.
"i can be anything you want, y/n."
your heartbeat picks up speed at the implication, hands shaking as you place the silver necklace around yeonjun's neck. pretty, you think.
"anything? are you sure?" a teasing lilt accompanies your voice. you push forward, testing the waters between you. yeonjun doesn't step back.
"when have I ever been unsure?"
"what if I want you to be my boyfriend?"
yeonjun's breath stutters in his chest, alarms ringing in his head as he pulls just slightly away to come face to face with your pretty face. though unexpected, he's not entirely surprised. the tension has always been there somewhere around you. a bit too close to be just best friends, ever since the beginning.
"i'd gladly be."
your lips form a teasing smile, all inviting and soft. yeonjun glances down then back up, a silent hint. you take it, of course you do. shuffling even closer, yeonjun is once again reminded of how enamored he is, of how much he'd do for you.
"is that so? prove it."
yeonjun does just that. he immediately closes the small gap between you and seizes your lips in a searing kiss, stealing all your breath away. your hands find each other, intertwining and holding tight, lips chasing each other with the fervor of feelings being hidden all these years. intoxicating, yeonjun quickly realizes. you use the advantage of your better position to push even closer to yeonjun, running fingers through his hair as your lips part and gasps for air fill the silence in the room. neither of you move an inch away, simply staring in each other's eyes, bracelet and necklace somewhat glowing under the soft lights.
"so? are you mine yet?" yeonjun's teeth comes into view with how wide he's smiling and you are forced to squash the urge to hug him so tight that your bodies morph into one.
thinking back on it, you figure you've always been each other's. a silent agreement. despite voicing it out just now, you have always known.
"i think i've been yours since the first time i saw you."
"augh, that was a bit too much."
"shut it, yeonjun."
this is just another step into their journey. nothing will change between you and you are sure you'll only grow closer as time passes.
1K notes · View notes
miupow · 2 months
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──★ ˙ ̟ ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ girl dad yeonjun headcanons .ᐟ
warnings: sfw, parent!au, dad!yeonjun, mentions of fem!reader and mom!reader, just self-indulgent tooth rotting fluff ⋆⑅˚₊
a/n: wanted to drop some fluff so here you go... this is a repost from my old blog! originally requested by @https-yeonjun ♡
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-> yeonjun always wanted to have a daughter. he’s always wanted a family and whenever he’d envision that family he’d always seen himself having a daughter. or two.
-> he decided from the moment you told him that you were pregnant that the baby was a girl. it didn’t matter how often you chastised him for it, he just knew it.
-> and of course he was right, which he was very smug about.
-> not really. he ugly cried when she was born
-> calls you and his daughter “his girls”; the two most important women in his life :’(
-> he sings to her all of the time :( sung to her when she was still in your belly, sings her to sleep, hums gentle melodies when he’s holding her tight
-> she drops everything to run and greet him when he comes home every day, and yeonjun’s always quick to scoop her up n spin her around
-> she gives him makeovers all of the time! puts pretty bows n barrettes in his hair, puts play makeup all over his face,,, he’s always covered in glitter no matter how hard he tries to wash it off lol
-> he would genuinely enjoy tea parties with his daughter, would go out of his way to make sure they were perfect and complete with everything she could want
-> makes breakfast before either of you are up, loves surprising his girls :(
-> your daughter has terrible spoiled princess syndrome and it’s all yeonjun’s fault!! he’s the most unstrict dad ever. she completely walks all over him lmao
-> he just can’t say no to her!! he’ll get whatever his princess wants, no matter how much it hurts his wallet
-> and she pouts the exact same way he does!! all sad puppy eyes n duck lips omg she’s impossible to reprimand
-> hed be such an affectionate dad T^T constantly wants to hold n cuddle her, give her all of his time and attention, tell her how much he adores her!!
-> she’s his princess and she KNOWS IT!!!
-> soooo supportive in anything his daughter wishes to do! he’d be her biggest cheerleader <3 in the crowd at the school play making sure he’s cheering louder than all of the other dads
-> he’d lose his mind if anything ever happened to her
-> even if it was just her classmates saying mean things, he’d raise absolute hell
-> he’d completely freak out if she gets hurt, even if it’s a little fall or a scrape. immediately runs to coddle her and soothe her cries. she def plays up the waterworks so he gets her ice cream, and he knows this but is too smitten to care
-> he just can’t stand to see her cry :( would do absolutely anything in his power to make her tears stop no matter what
-> i have to stop before i melt oh my god
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548 notes · View notes
beomie3 · 7 months
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shoong! - choi yeonjun
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pairing: boyfriend idol! yeonjun x fem!reader
summary: an upcoming dance challenge video with one of yeonjun’s role models has him nervous, overworking himself with the tricky choreo. but you’re by his side, there to relax him in more ways than one ;)
wc: 3.9k
warnings: smut, cursing, heavy make out, oral (both giving/receiving), unprotected sex, yeonjun is down bad (so are you), also tons of fluff too!<3
title track: shoong! - taeyang
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰
"stop! start again," the choreographer's voice echoes throughout the dance studio for the tenth time tonight, biting your nails as you watch yeonjun hang his head in frustration.
his black tank top was beginning to pool with sweat, occasionally lifting it to wipe his forehead as beads formed near his hairline. to say he was tired was an understatement.
after practicing all day for an upcoming tour, he also had to master a solo dance for a challenge video promotion he would be filming soon. you could practically feel his exhaustion from afar when he shot you a tired glance.
you lifted your fist in a "fighting" gesture, being the only form of support fueling him. because right now, the choreographer was on his case and it angered you, if you were being completely honest. you wished she would tone it down a bit. but yeonjun found her harsh orders a helpful form of guidance, always pushing himself to the extreme.
the choreographer cued the music and it began echoing throughout the mirrored studio, the only sound booming other than yeonjun's sneakers squeaking onto the wood floor and her shouting down from five.
he began to move fluidly with the music like he was one with it, moving his hips and arms and legs perfectly, even better than what the choreography called for. he was the best dancer you'd ever seen, and damn was he passionate in what he did.
the song came to its end and he had to lay on the cold, wood floor for a moment to catch his breath, standing up immediately when the choreographer approached him.
"great, now with better visuals." she almost scolded him, noticeably bringing him down with her backhanded compliment. more visuals? but lady, he is the visual. it took everything in you to restrain yourself from walking over there and saying just that. but doing that will probably do more bad than good, ultimately having to painfully retract yourself.
you furrowed your brows, fingernails aching as you watched your boyfriend get into position again, somehow mustering a natural and sultry smile as he did the dance over, body flowing perfectly with the deep bass of the song.
your heart ached for him, already thinking of all the ways you would take care of him after he was done practicing, wanting to give him all the love and care in the world after getting through such a physically draining day.
yeonjun doubled over after the song ended and the choreographer signaled he had "passed" with a few claps and a thumbs up from the staff room, dismissing him for the night as he chugged water and wiped sweat from his face.
he sluggishly made his way over to where you stood by the changing room, melting into your arms as soon as he reached you. it felt as he had just gone for a swim, damp from head to toe with sweat.
"you're gonna kill it tomorrow with taeyang," you assured him, gently rubbing his wet back as he breathed you in. you knew yeonjun was nervous for this, he had worked his ass off perfecting the choreo because he always looked up to taeyang even since his trainee days. and now, he was going to film a promo with him, how surreal.
"i know," he whispered into your hair, the small smile on his face obvious because of his tone. you looked up at his flushed face, plump lips tugged into a sweet open-mouthed smile as he still caught his breath, running a hand through his dark, wet locks.
"c'mon, let's go home," you patted his hip and he nodded sluggishly, quickly slipping on the fresh hoodie you brought him before wrapping an arm around you, exiting the dance studio together.
~
once you returned to your apartment, you ran junie a shower like you always did after a long, hard practice; either joining him to wash up or staying back in the kitchen to make him his favorite soup while he showered.
today, you made his soup faster than usual, leaving it covered on the stove to retain its warmth while you went to go check on him in the shower.
steam escaped the bathroom as you opened the door, knocking on its wooden frame to advise him you were entering. his head poked out from the shower curtain, black hair slicked back from the water; a heavy glint of worry in his eyes, lips slightly downturned. baby :(
you felt a pang at your heart, immediately entering the steaming room and wrapping your arms around his wet body from where you stood, not caring that you were still fully clothed. you could sense that look from a mile away; he just wanted to be held. to be told everything will be okay.
"i'm just...really worried about tomorrow. what if i mess up? i can't do that in front of taeyang, i just can't." his voice was frail and he sunk his face into your neck and sighed, melting into you as your shirt quickly became soaked from his wet head of hair.
"yeonjun, you're the best dancer i've ever known. the best person i've ever known. you'll do amazing. you are amazing." you lightly massaged his shoulder with your palms, feeling him melt deeper into the hug. his face softened at your kind words, but he still struggled to even fake a smile.
"get in with me?" he didn't even let you respond before he was pulling you in, helping your clothes off and throwing them off next to his on the bathroom floor. he hugged you even tighter now, both of you silent under the running water, just holding him there as he breathed you in, sighing as you stroked his damp hair.
"it's all going to be okay," you whispered into his skin, gently pressing loving kisses to his neck. you wanted to relax him, give him all of your physical affection to remind him of just how much you love him. to calm his nerves before the big day tomorrow which you knew he sure as hell would kill.
trailing your kisses up his neck, under his jaw, and meeting your lips with his pillowy ones, he kissed you back softly.
"don't worry junie." you whispered against his plush lips. this was what he needed; your kisses and your reassurance. the warmth of your body pressed to his in a tight embrace. like you were an angel, coming to save him of all of the harshness of the world.
"it'll all be okay," you trailed your fingers to the tops of his shoulders, lightly rubbing the sore muscles while pressing tender kisses to his collarbones, sensing him lean his head back to the shower wall, relaxing under your touch.
you gently squeezed the muscles of his arms all the way down to his hands, following with the trail of your lips across his chest, working your way down to his lower stomach, where his abdomen slightly tensed in sensitivity. you knelt in front of him, looking up at him with kind eyes, and he looked down at you with a half-lidded gaze, neediness clearly present.
"just relax," you smiled up at him, and he gave you a small nod, the corner of his lip slightly upturned and sucked between his teeth, savoring your delicious touch. his member had already grown helplessly erect since you first started showering his neck in gentle kisses; pressed flush against his stomach and just waiting for your magical touch.
you gently trailed your fingers over his flushed tip, deriving a small shudder from your boyfriend as he leaned back onto the shower wall, eyes closed, just enjoying the moment. you took his heavy hardness into your hand, gently stroking him, kitten-licking the pre-cum off of his tip just the way he needed it.
he sucked air between his teeth at the sensation of your warm tongue on his sensitive tip, a low moan escaping his lips when you licked up and down his length, swirling your tongue on the sensitive skin. you were just too good.
his hand fell to your hair, tangling his fingers between the wet locks as you took him entirely into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat and slightly making you gag, the feeling fucking fantastic to him.
the way you looked up at him with tears pooling in your eyes from sucking him off so good made all worries flee his head immediately, only thing he could do was watch you, enjoying the insane pleasure you gave him.
his groans grew louder, echoing throughout the bathroom, spewing your name as you quickened your pace, doing everything so perfectly he could just bust at any moment. the way you trailed your fingers up and down his thighs, tracing his hip bones and running them across his abs had him going insane, pleasure through the roof as he released a loud moan, back arching against the shower wall.
"you're so good baby," his voice was low, tongue emerging to wet his lips as you began stroking and sucking simultaneously, getting a good rhythm going before he was a moaning mess, bucking his hips into your hand, rutting himself deeper into your mouth.
"i'm so so close," he pressed his head back onto the wall, slightly pulling at your hair, still gentle with you. but when you quickly flicked your tongue on his tip, it was over; inviting hot cum to shoot all over your mouth, licking your lips clean of it.
he huffed out of breath, eyes half open as he gave you a lazy grin, fucked out of his mind. helping you to your feet as you hugged his waist, he pressed kisses to the crown of your wet hair. the sound of his chuckle brought warmth to your heart; that's all you wanted, was to see your boyfriend happy and worry free.
"your soup is warm and waiting for you in the kitchen," you stroked his cheek, smiling when he placed a small kiss to your lips. he couldn't quite find the right words to thank you, so he pecked your lips repeatedly, holding you so tight. he even forgot exactly what he'd been stressing over, thanks to you. just knowing you'd be by his side tomorrow was all he needed.
~
and there he was again- next day in the studio, examining his outfit in front of the large mirrors, and you were too; checking out the beige, designer sweater he sported along with some baggy pants and black shoes. he was already absolutely killing it and taeyang had yet to arrive.
you noticed his slightly uneasy posture when he looked over at you, the hint of nervousness in his expression. you beckoned him over quickly.
jogging to over you when the staff weren't looking, you handed him a small napkin, holding the weight of his favorite cookie you had baked him this morning before you drove over to watch his big filming day.
he unraveled it, revealing the small sugar cookie with "yj fighting<3!!" piped onto it perfectly with baby blue frosting, bringing a blushing smile to his cheeks which he failed to hide with his other hand, finding it the cutest thing ever.
he slipped the cookie between his lips, smiling even bigger when the sweet flavor soothed his nerves. "you're the best," he praised your baking skills with a full mouth, chewing quickly and giving you a quick peck on the lips before running off to the dance floor when the choreographer emerged from the staff room.
the minutes went by of watching your boyfriend gain more and more confidence during his warm ups, rehearsing the song thoroughly before the arrival of the other idol.
you almost wanted to kick your feet at watching yeonjun's reaction to meeting taeyang; their interaction was professional yet so wholesome, bowing every second they could and you smiled, so happy to see your boyfriend enjoying himself with one of his role models. you were beyond proud of him, and you're sure many other moas felt the same.
after some small talk, it was time to begin filming, and you dialed in on yeonjun, praying that he would find his confidence through it all. and boy did he ever; moving so in tune with the music that he practically became it, mesmerizing you.
and damn was he sexy, moving his body carefully yet rhythmically with each beat, giving it his all when it came to his solo in front of the camera. he gave the camera a few winks and he looked over at you after each take, shooting you the same wink. you simply melted in your little spot by the changing room.
the sound of shoong! by taeyang was long engraved in your ears by now as it was probably the hundredth time hearing it over the span of two days. but you could never get tired of watching your man dance, eyes trailing his every slick move; every subtle rut and roll of his hips and flick of his tongue over his lips. feeling so lucky that such a man was yours.
you felt yourself slightly hold your breath during each take, fingers crossed that yeonjun would be happy with his performance and not too hard on himself, and every time he shot you a satisfied smile after each monitoring period, you brimmed with happiness, so glad he could see himself shine the same way you did.
after several hours of watching your boyfriend and taeyang dance professionally through the choreography countless times, getting takes with every angle possible, they said their goodbyes and he was dismissed for the night.
a large smile grew on junie's cute face as he ran over to you like an excited puppy, wrapping his arms around you tightly, nearly picking you up.
"see!! i knew you could do it! i'm so proud of you." your words simply meant the world to yeonjun, gazing into your sparkling eyes as you both brimmed with contentment. his love for you grew in this moment, wanting to repay you for being so amazing.
you weren't even halfway through the front door of your apartment before you had to come up for a breath amidst your heavy make out with yeonjun, his hands trailing everywhere imaginable on your body as you stumbled past the door.
shutting it with his foot, yeonjun scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed you against the wall of the living room, decorating your neck with kisses and love bites.
"we deserve a little celebration don't we?" he mumbled already out of breath against your ear, and you nodded, basking in the excitement of the moment.
"you actually did so good junie," you kissed his neck softly as he carried you to the bedroom, hearing his small giggle as he set you down on the bed.
"only because of my #1 cheerleader," he leaned down, pressing his hips in between your legs and reuniting his lips with yours. the kisses were hot and passion-filled, making him begin to sweat even after all of the dancing he had done tonight.
he helped your shirt off of you, throwing it off to the side where your shoes were also kicked off, kissing a trail in between your breasts and down to your pants, undoing the button with a swift tug.
you could already feel wetness pooling in your underwear from the moment he was playing with the hem of your waistband in the taxi on the way home, occasionally slipping his pinky under and tickling the skin, hinting at you of what he wanted to do tonight.
and here you two were, not even home for three minutes and already a whimpering, moaning mess as you made out half naked on the bed, lips swollen from his nibbles as he lightly circled your clit through your panties.
you pulled his sweater off and threw it aside, running your fingers across his damp skin as he shivered, smirk widening against your lips. his lips ghosted down to your waistband, leaving a trail of kisses and goosebumps behind as he slowly peeled your underwear from your throbbing wetness, just begging to be touched by the handsome man in front of you.
teasing you with a few thigh kisses, he spread your legs far apart, hooking them under his elbows and then over his shoulders as he got a good look at you, licking his lips at how delicious you looked glistening in the dim lighting of the bedroom.
"thank you for being there for me, always," he flicked his eyes up at you with a warm smile, diving in between your legs before you could even say anything back but the moan that escaped your throat, arching your back at the sheer pleasure as he licked up and down your folds gratefully, savoring every bit of your essence.
yeonjun knew what the hell he was doing in many different aspects. in this one, he for sure knew how to make you scream his name and have you coming all over his face in a matter of minutes.
curling his fingers up to hit your jackpot, hot pleasure dispersing throughout your body, eyes rolling back as he fucked his fingers into you, flicking his tongue against your bundle of nerves deliciously.
one loud moan of his name and your legs were shaking on his shoulders, giving out when you rode out your wave of absolute pleasure, leaving your juices on his fingers which he licked clean.
he was quick to kiss you again while you caught your breath and recovered from the pulsations of your orgasm, helping him unbuckle his pants and dropping them to the floor; every vein visible on the imprint of his rock hard member through his underwear.
you were already soaking wet again when you helped him peel his underwear off of his hips; the sight of his dick springing out had your mouth practically watering again, just needing to lick off the bead of precum that formed at his tip.
but that was all he allowed you to do, wanting to take care of you this time, considering last night only he had finished and not you. in his eyes, you deserved to come even twenty times if you were up to it.
he took control, pressing you back down onto the bed as he kissed you, his warm member nudging against your stomach, so hard you just wanted to be stuffed full already.
taking your legs in either of his hands, he held them up in the air, tapping his tip against your entrance and then entering slowly to give you time to adjust, easing in so effortlessly due to how drenched you were.
he threw his head back at your warmth that engulfed him to no end, walls sucking him in perfectly. he threw your legs onto his shoulders so that they bent at the knees, hands on the plush of your hips to support each of his thrusts as he began to slowly and deeply pound into you, your moans echoing though the room with slaps of skin.
his hips snapped rhythmically against your own, which after all, yeonjun knew how to use his hips considering how amazing of a dancer he was; leaving you mesmerized with them more so after watching him dance tonight. and now you were getting to see him use them up close and personal, grinding skin to skin against you with every twitch inside of you, practically wanting to scream.
he fucked you slow and deep, then hard and fast; knowing exactly when to speed up or slow down. not to mention, he liked to switch positions frequently, flipping you so easily around like you were putty in his hands.
he had you on all fours now, ass in the air as he pounded into you from behind; doggy being the best angle to spank you in, because he knew you loved it.
"fuuuckkkk," he drew out his words, a groan in his throat as he watched your ass bounce back onto his thighs, kneading the plush of your skin with a firm grasp and slapping it gently.
you were already about to come again and he could sense it by the way you tightened around him, growing louder as he reached around to palm your breasts, fingers circling your sensitive nipples.
"jun-" you could only moan half of his name, chanting it over and over like a prayer, sheets messy with sweat and some drool as you buried your face into the pillows.
"wanna come on my cock y/n? yeah? give it to me." he spoke through gritted teeth, giving it to you so good you were on the brink of exploding.
you spasmed violently all over him, doing everything in his power not to finish quite yet; thrusting into you slower to let you catch you breath, gently turning your face with his fingers to kiss your lips, warm chest pressed to your back.
before you knew it, he flipped you over again, his body weight melting on top of you as his cock was still buried deep inside, subtly twitching as you fluttered around him. he went slow, kissing you in what felt like slow motion as he hit the deepest parts of you, splitting you open with each of his thrusts.
his face was flushed, even more than when he dances, eyes half-lidded and sultry and gazing deeply into yours, lips plump and dark middle part messy over his wet forehead. he was sexy as ever.
his hips stuttered and you decided you wanted to give him a break after doing all the hard work, maneuvering him so that he lay on his back, you on top.
he got a beautiful view from this angle, well, you each did. but he smiled, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gently palmed your tits, trailing his fingers down your waist and over the plush or your ass.
you rode him steadily, watching his dick stretch you perfectly from where he was laying. you thought maybe you could last a little longer for him, but the moment his thumb rhythmically massaged your clit, it was over. there you were bouncing on him, getting yourself off to the friction of his tip against your g-spot and nearly crying at how amazing he felt.
sensing you were so close and tired, he began rutting his hips up and into you, fucking you so hard you were almost dizzy, fisting the sheets in your hands as he pulled them from you and interlaced your fingers with his instead.
"you're so fucking good," you moaned at the last second before he was finishing inside of you, the warmth spreading around your core and pushing you to the edge as well as you collapsed to his chest in a sweaty heap.
you both breathed heavily, your head rising and falling on his chest as he caught his breath, pushing his wet bangs out of his face before hugging you tight.
you both lay there, pressing kisses to one another, talking about the events of the day and how excited he was to see how the promotion would turn out.
"tell me why that song is still stuck in my head," you weakly laughed on his chest, envisioning the smooth choreography in your head and how well he danced to it today.
"maybe i'll teach you?" he smiled down at you and you happily nodded, knowing that you two would probably end up back in this bed because dancing with yeonjun always gets you heated.
he kissed you again, so satisfied with everything in his life; knowing that if he had his #1 supporter next to him, he could conquer any hard choreo.
<3
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰
a/n: if you made it this far, tysm for reading! <3 this is inspired by the t:time ep of yeonjun’s behind the scenes shooting of shoong! and i’ve also been trying to learn this choreo so why not write a fic!😭 hope you enjoyed <33
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heegyuwrld · 2 months
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txt yeonjun fic recs
say goodnight and go (3.2k, best friends to lovers)
you don't go to parties (series, exes, college au)
cruel summer (30k, childhood friends to strangers to lovers)
sugar (series, smut, angst)
till the end of summer (series, angst, smut)
sneaky link (series, angst, smut)
like you (16.4k, smut, college au)
former lover's dance (10.5k, smut, roommates)
bad impression (9.4k, smut, college au)
calling all my lovelies (15.2k, smut, fwb)
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bowlofsoob · 9 months
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LOYALTY TEST
gender neutral reader, college setting
based on that tiktok trend where someone attractive messages people’s partners and tries to see if they’ll cheat, none of them will cheat tho it’s not angst
in the pov of the person doing a loyalty test
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delcakoo · 10 months
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i wish i was a baller ₊✩˚⊹ c.yj
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ty @yenqa bae for the idea <3
SUMMARY ! being his longtime crush, when yeonjun and his pesky friends’ catch you walking past the court, he’s quick to try an impress you with one (un)lucky shot on hoop in exchange for your number.
PAIRING ! yeonjun x f!reader
WC ! 1.3k
GENRE ! cavity inducing fluff
a/n: c’mon now u have to listen to i wish after readin that title c:
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“shit, look who it is yeonjun!”
the male in question was much too busy shouldering soobin to the ground, dribbling past his now groaning friend before slam-dunking his favorite orange ball through the hoop to listen to lame, old, beomgyu.
“let’s go!” yeonjun punches the air, running by his teammates to offer them high fives that they halfheartedly return. “another point for the yeonjunniez!”
“horrible fuckin’ team name,” taehyun murmurs, while kai only nods in tired agreement.
before yeonjun could force the group into another scrimmage, a strong hand grips his shoulder, redirecting him to face a barely visible figure that’s only steps away from reaching the basketball court’s end. beomgyu squeezes tighter, shaking him back and forth slightly. “don’t ignore me! you recognise who that is, right man?” squinting his eyes, yeonjun gasps as he takes in the familiar sight of your signature hairstyle and white headphones.
oh, he knew it was you alright. even if it was pitch black out — only street lamps illuminating the shady pathways — and you were clearly wearing all dark shades to blend in more, he knew.
“‘course, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t know my girl when i see her?”
soobin, who’s still brushing off pebbles after his dramatic fall, rolls his eyes at the straight fibs coming out of his friend’s lips. “she barely knows you exist.”
“not for long.” before anyone could stop him or make him think at the very least, yeonjun has himself pressed against the chained wall of the court, fingers noisily locking through the metal in an attempt to grasp your attention. “y/n, is that you?”
when you swiftly turn at the sound of your name, looking adorably like a deer caught in headlights, yeonjun is reminded of just how head over heels he is.
“yeonjun..?” he’s never been so thankful to mr. sim assigning partners for projects, or else you still wouldn’t know your future boyfriend’s name! you look past him to take in the other boys who send you awkward waves, and yeonjun glares in annoyance at each and every one of them. what shitty wingmen.
“uh, yeah.. so, what’re you doing out here alone?”
with one more glance around the empty park, yeonjun nearly squeals as you begin walking closer, shoving your phone into your hoodie pocket smoothly. “j-just clearing my head i guess. what about you guys?” your stuttering gives him hope that perhaps you’re just as nervous as he is right now — leading a small smirk to etch across the boy’s lips.
“practising extra late since tryouts open soon,” he replies, gesturing to his friend group in the background. “they all kinda suck though.”
“thanks!” beomgyu spits back, but yeonjun could care less about his sarcastic comeback when it resulted in you letting out a soft chuckle. that was him by the way — he made you laugh!
in an attempt to give yeonjun more one on one time with you, the others had attempted to go back to playing (while still eavesdropping of course), but it was clear that their friend needed a little shove in the right direction.
taehyun moves closer, adjusting his black muscle top while offering you a mischievous grin. “say, y/n. if yeonjun here gets a three pointer, would you consider giving him your number?”
besides kai’s howling laughter in the distance, the court is frozen in tension, more specifically yeonjun — who’s jaw has practically dropped to his ass. this was not part of the plan, taehyun! attempting to bandage the wound, the raven haired boy smacks his friend, hoping the expression on your poor, confused face would falter at least a bit.
his ears burn bright red, and he can only pray the hood of his grey coat is deep enough to hide it. “i uh- sorry about that, you don’t— you don’t have to do anything—“
too busy manifesting some way to travel back in time and tape taehyun’s mouth shut, yeonjun fails to notice the amused smile creeping its way to your lips. “no, it’s okay. you can try if you want.”
soobin and beomgyu share a horrified glance, just how is this working?
yeonjun blinks, holding a bewildered yet determined look in his pupils. “i— you mean like, to shoot?” he blabbers in disbelief.
you shrug. “why not?” and before he knows it, the ball is forced into his grip by a snickering soobin, who attempts to relieve his friend’s shoulders that are tenser than he’s ever seen them with a swift massage.
little did he know that you found it almost as endearing as the way yeonjun’s teeth nibble onto his bottom lip as he gets into position, crouching with precision before jumping, releasing the basketball with a flick of his wrists.
the orange ball flies for a bit before landing right on the hoop’s ring, bouncing across it loudly, spinning around for a bit before—
“shit..” beomgyu murmurs in horror, watching how the ball flops pathetically off the side of the ring along with the other five pairs of eyes.
yeonjun refuses to believe this.
sinking down to his knees, nails frustratingly glide through his bangs while a pained groan leaves his lips. “i didn’t miss a single fucking shot earlier,” he winces, “but of course when it actually matters i fuck up.”
god, he was so cute — it was all you could think to yourself as you paced closer, squatting next to the boy’s destressed form all while lightly patting his shoulder. when yeonjun lifts his head, his eyes widen at the closeness of your face being mere centimetres from his. for a second, he thinks he might just pass out on the spot, up until you pull out a pen from your pocket, grinning cutely as usual.
when you open up your palm, it takes him a minute to realize you were asking for his hand.
ever so carefully, yeonjun places his hand in your grasp, breath stuttering at the feeling of his crush’s fingers wrapping comfortingly around his wrist. “what- what are you..” he gulps when you bend a bit closer to begin scribbling something right across the softness of his pale skin, glancing up at his friend’s with a face of utter disbelief who only give him an equally gobsmacked look in return.
suddenly, you’re releasing him and standing back to full height, pen being shoved casually into the embrace of your black hoodie as if you hadn’t just narrowly avoided giving the poor boy a heart attack moments prior. “yeonjun, i was gonna give it to you either way,” you snort.
wait, what? did he just go through the five stages of grief for nothing?
all he can do is watch with eyes gaped as you slowly march back towards the entrance, only snapping out of it when beomgyu pulls his arm up to investigate the nine numbers inked across his hand. “bro.. you did it.” he states it as if yeonjun had just solved world hunger, shaking his friend frantically.
“i.. i did it?” he repeats dumbly.
it seems as though he can’t get a break; now soobin’s the one pushing him towards the entrance. “go on, dipshit!” he exclaims, “it’s pitch black out there, walk her home!”
this has yeonjun’s expression changing from dumbstruck to full on panic, nearly tripping on his own shoelaces as he sprints out to catch up to your now-far-away form, grey hood falling off and finally revealing his bright red ears in the process.
there was no doubt that he looked insane — lighting or not. “she has him wrapped around her finger, huh?” kai can’t help but cackle once more.
soobin takes a shot, easily making a dunk with the help of his height before sighing in agreement. “oh, absolutely.”
if you enjoyed, reblogs and feedback’s always appreciated <3
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© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.
perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @kynrki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @taejays @luvhyun3 @yjjungwon @miou45 @rosie-is-everywhere @yenqa @rosenatorfirst @millsielovesgyu @syrxiee2 @ily-cuz-i @soobin-chois @wtfhyuck @hoonvrs @gyuuberryy @bucketofhiros @xtra-cheese @vmprshlvr
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blue-jisungs · 9 months
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locked out of heaven
song inspo. locked out of heaven by bruno mars
a/n. i’m still giggling at the fact that bruno mars collected all the idols like a damn pokémon trainer. also i wrote it in 7 minutes while waiting at the bus stop bye
summary. your boyfriend comes home after the bruno mars concert, tired and drunk… and so so in love
warnings. might be a lil suggestive? depends how you look at it. a bit of skinship ^_^ + brief alcohol mention
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the door opened so quietly, causing you to wonder if it’s your imagination or not. soft thuds of foot steps and the sound of your boyfriend’s humming made you rub your eyes, slumber slowly washing off you. peeking at the clock you smiled softly: 3:29am.
the slight light peeking through the door, coming from the bathroom accompanying by the rustle of water running caused you to shift a bit, to make place for yeonjun in your bed.
in no time the light turned off and yeonjun walked lazily into the room, sighing.
“hi baby” you murmured, voice a bit raspy.
“oh, did i wake you up? i’m sorry” if you thought your voice was raspy then after hearing him, you realised it’s nothing compared to his. you giggled, shaking your head.
“nope, i was waiting for you” you hummed, patting the place next to you.
but yeonjun plopped down on you, placing his head on your tummy with a dramatic sigh of relief.
“that’s good. after the concert we went to have some drinks with the guys, there were so many friends of mine. they insisted i stayed but i said i have to go back home to my girl” yeonjun hummed lazily, words barely audible due to the volume of it and the fact he was muffled by your pyjama t-shirt. when he talked you felt vibrations spreading through your body, stomach filling with butterflies… maybe also because of the nickname he used.
“you’re so sweet. how was the concert though?” you asked, accepting the fact he won’t move anytime soon. yeonjun normally is clingy, but after having alcohol in his system he’s the definition of clingy. one of his hands grabbed yours and placed it on his head, signalling you to play with his hair. the other pulled your shirt a bit and he started drawing small doodles on the skin of your stomach.
“it was… so… amazing. is it what moas feel like? i thought i was dreaming. bruno was amazing… the way he sung… he was so charismatic! he even said he missed us… in korean. aish… i’ll never hear his songs the same way again. the live version was just… woah” he sighed dreamily, the post-concert blues settling in.
you played with his hair, smiling fondly. gradually he started dozing off, breath turning more stable and soft.
you felt yourself getting drowsy again too when yeonjun suddenly started humming a song. at first you couldn’t hear which one but then you realised it.
“cause you make me feel like i've been locked out of heaven~” he sung quietly against your stomach “for too loooong~”
you scoffed, the action making him move a bit. you could feel the way he smiled against your skin, hands wrapping around you a bit tighter.
“can i just stay here…?” he hummed.
“spend the rest of your days here?” you asked amused, causing him to grin.
“mhm” a quiet murmur leaving his lips.
“mkay, you can… but if i wake up sore in the morning, you’re giving me a massage” you joked and continued to play with his hair.
with a pleasant warmth spreading in your heart you fell asleep, joining yeonjun in his peaceful slumber.
txt masterlist | event masterlist
taglist.  @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @elviransworld  ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang
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shoota4ning · 9 months
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゛☆﹕HEART ATTACK 。。
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┌❀*̥˚𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙮 ───────── ❀*̥˚─┐
˗ˏˋ ★ ⠇SYNOPSIS ── y/n l/n sets her pfp as a cute boy without much thought, turns out the rando she found on pinterest was the campus crush, choi yeonjun. dating rumors spread rapidly throughout the school, and yeonjun now has an interest in the girl who’s ‘in love’ with him.
˗ˏˋ ☆ ⠇PAIRINGS ── popular!yeonjun x fem introvert!reader
˗ˏˋ ★ ⠇FEAT ── txt members, chaewon (le sserafim), seungmin (stray kids), changbin (stray kids), wooyoung (ateez), and more!
˗ˏˋ ☆ ⠇BYR ── warnings every chapter !!!
˗ˏˋ ★ ⠇GENRE ── smau, non idol au
˗ˏˋ ☆ ⠇STATUS ── on-going !
˗ˏˋ ★ ⠇DATE ── 05/10/23 — ???
˗ˏˋ ☆ ⠇TAGLIST ── open !
@sohnfile @vocaloshin @sullystraw @gbgbsoob @emohazuzworld @hearts4csb @2ynjns @anonella22 @yunwonie @nes-caf @jiawji @sunooluver @soobadooba @samisubi @suzirumas @gyubeari @shuichi-sama @yxnjvnnie @bluxjun @wildesreblogs @n034sy @loveliestsong @vianna99 @beomieboi @melodymyangel @hyuneyeon @rainbowszi @luv4cheol @birdie-vhs @phenomenalgirl9 @wccycc @solstrmaii @mystiicturtle @bangchansbae @moons-v @haechansbbg @rosesandluna @destairea @soobs-things @ye0nvibezzn @nnana2 @mwahvvis @https-yeonjun @coolwitu
── ❀*̥˚ ───────── 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ❀*̥˚ ─
!★☆ ──── PROFILES
capitalism ❤️ | #furryism | 🔛🔝
!☆★ ──── CHAPTERS
، 01 ✦ ─ #helookskindagay
، 02 ✦ ─ Park Ji-Min
، 03 ✦ ─ jacob saggytits
، 04 ✦ ─ beomgyu my love
، 05 ✦ ─ lgbt 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈
، 06 ✦ ─ only one of us is delusional
، 07 ✦ ─ that hyuka is cute
، 08 ✦ ─ be quiet kai 😐
، 09 ✦ ─ seungmins victims 😍
، 10 ✦ ─ ???
، 11 ✦ ─ changbins horrible plan
، 12 ✦ ─ DO NOT REPLY
، 13 ✦ ─ ghosting season 😔
، 14 ✦ ─ nun crazy
، 15 ✦ ─ i’m not okay !!
، 16 ✦ ─ what the flip
، 17 ✦ ─ GAY. ALL OF YOU ARE GAY !!!
، 18 ✦ ─ “happy new year 🎉” my way back
، 19 ✦ ─ yes, and?
، 20 ✦ ─ we up ! ( half written )
، 21 ✦ ─ you don’t want them out 👹
، 22 ✦ ─ i want him
، 23 ✦ ─ she’s so done
!★☆ ──── BONUS
، ✦ ─ girls (?) day
، ✦ ─ pet play date
، ✦ ─ min’s first date
، ✦ ─ hiyyih the yn enthusiast !
└────── ❀*̥˚ 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ❀*̥˚ ──────┘
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saursoob · 6 months
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traitor - a choi yeonjun smau
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synopsis: you and yeonjun were best friends for most of your life’s but he’d recently gotten into a toxic relationship with someone you’ve never liked, he knew that and still decided to be with her. though you’d never thought he’d go to the extent of cutting you off because of her. much less expect that years later he’d make his way back into your life.
- featuring: txt, yunjin (lesserafim), liz (ive), keeho (p1harmony), jay & heeseung (+ the rest of enhypen occasionally)
- genre: social media smau, college smau, non idol smau, crack, angst, fluff
- warnings: angst (first ep), swearing, toxic gf, lots of kys jokes, grammar mistakes, time stamps r sometimes wrong 😔
- updates: whenever i feel up to it since this isn’t my top priority atm
- status: on going
- started: 9/23/23 (in the drafts LMFAOO)
taglist: ALWAYS OPEN! bold couldn’t be taged 💔(@bbinwrld @soobsfairy444 @stqrgr7 @nishik1 @skittlez-area512 @odisdad @zonked-times @vocaloshin @vixensss @mackjestic @matcha-binz @txtmetonight @novvogily @ckline35 @jaeneohee @staryuyu @binluvsu @kyujism @doumachi @beomkgyu @cherriesbloss0m @cur-sedd @ye0nvibezzn @reallyspaghetti @304files @haechansbbg @purriodsblog @alemi-i @ioanawlw @soobadooba @jayhoonvroom @harufluff @minjiji-03 @geminidas @nnana2 )
inspired by request !!
- edit: im really glad yall are enjoying this smau but please remember to not spam like !!
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PROFILES: the gang bang ‼️ | (NOT) FURRYS 😣😣
ONE: traitor !!
TWO: gc debrief 🫡
THREE: tyuns plans?
FOUR: tyuns plans? pt 2 (written + smau)
FIVE: #lovelife🫰‼️
SIX: COOLNESS 😊
SEVEN: win her back
EIGHT: insane.
NINE: really pretty (written)
TEN: cupcakes man
ELEVEN: the ferris wheel (written + smau)
TWELVE: worried
THIRTEEN: say hi
..tba!
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soobszzn · 11 months
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storage room smooch
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synopsis: you want to show your super sporty and athletic boyfriend yeonjun just how supportive you can be.
pairing: jock!yeonjun x reader
genre: mostly fluff, established relationship
content/warnings: lots of kissing, lots of making out, reader doesn’t want to get in trouble, mildly suggestive at the end
wc: 1.3k 
a/n: dedicated to R🌹
-
“choi yeonjun, fighting!” you exclaimed at the nervous boy fiddling with his shoe laces. he had a few minutes before one of his weekly tournament games, yet was glued to your side. he stood up straight and let out a sigh.
softly smiling at your boyfriend, you began adjusting his basketball jersey while he took a few deep breaths. as talented and athletic as he was, he still got so nervous before every game. you made it a point to support him at each match, cheering him on by the sidelines. 
you took some time to admire him in his jersey, which perfectly showed off his sculpted muscles. part of the reason you loved watching his games so much was because his flawless figure was on display for everyone to see. yeonjun huffed and snapped you out of your trance.
“you’re gonna do great, you’re the best one on the team.” you said encouragingly, affectionately pinching his cheek. he chuckled and smiled back bashfully, mouthing a “thank you.”
“i got this!” yeonjun chanted to himself, lightly jogging in place and taking a few quick breaths. prepared to return to his team, he kissed you quickly on the cheek and jogged towards the now gathering group across the gymnasium. you situated yourself in your usual spot on the bleachers, with a perfect view of yeonjun whenever he was on the bench.
-
you knew it was normal for some matches to go poorly, but it was bad this time around. it seemed that team synergy was off and nobody was performing their best - not even yeonjun, who was visibly upset.
you watched your boyfriend worriedly, his coach and fellow teammates looking defeated. apart of you felt a bit useless, as the only thing you could do from the sidelines was cheer loudly alongside other spectators.
down by almost half the points of the opposing team, and seeing your boyfriend so troubled, you decided to take matters into your own hands. you noticed his team start to migrate into the boys’ change room for their short halftime break. 
springing to your feet, you quickly walked along the gym perimeter and made a beeline for yeonjun, who was taking his time getting off the bench. as you approached, he looked up and attempted to shoot you a reassuring smile, although you knew he was bothered and slightly embarrassed at his current performance. then, ever so swiftly, you leaned in and pecked him on his forehead in an attempt to lift his spirits. yeonjun’s eyes widened in surprise.
you didn’t plan on keeping him long from his team, and you weren’t even sure if you were allowed on this side of the gymnasium. a short and sweet act of encouragement was all you intended. but it seemed yeonjun had other plans.
before you could even pass him by and get back to your seat, yeonjun grabbed your arm in urgency and pulled you towards him. he lead you to the slightly opened gym storage room not too far away, sneaking the both of you inside.
the storage room was dimly lit and you could only make out a few features of your boyfriends’ face. suddenly, you felt his hands cup your cheeks. he inched his face closer to yours, allowing your lips to meet.
despite being taken aback, you happily and willingly kissed him back. his plush lips were soft and sweet, and you could feel him smile against your lips. then, his hands fell to your waist, as you allowed your hands to roam his already dishevelled hair. this intimacy with yeonjun was pure bliss and you enjoyed every second, but reality settled in and you pulled away quickly.
“oh my god! what if someone sees! is your team looking for you? what about your coach!?” you blurted almost too loudly.
“everyone’s busy doing their own thing, i don’t think they’d notice me missing.” yeonjun laughed as he attempted to pull you close again, obviously still distracted by your lips. you shot him a look.
“im serious, jjun. go back to your team. they need you.” your boyfriend groaned in a way that confirmed your suspicions. “i don’t want you to get in trouble.” you continued.
“you were the one who distracted me!” he argued jokingly as he ran a hand through his hair. he prepared to leave your safe haven in the storage room, and he instructed you to follow a few seconds after. he gave you one last peck and winked as he slipped out and went back to his team.
-
you didn’t want to claim the team’s comeback as your own doing, but the coincidence was almost comical. you watched in awe as the team continually racked up points in the last two quarters of the game. yeonjun’s energy and vibrancy had returned, moving swiftly and confidently on the court. although they didn’t win this time, they caught up quite impressively with only six points separating them from a win.
unfortunately for the two of you, yeonjun’s short absence during halftime didn’t go unnoticed. even though both his team and coach acknowledged the reappearance of his athletic prowess, they didn’t appreciate the tardiness. after the game, yeonjun was tasked with cleaning up the gymnasium before the caretaking staff arrived. this meant that he had to stay an extra while and the two of you couldn’t go directly back to yeonjun’s place.
“i’ll help you out.” you announced, as you stepped towards the boy picking clutter off the gym floor.
“no no no, i can do this. maybe you should head home first.” yeonjun protested, swiping a bead of sweat off his forehead.
“i was the one who distracted you anyways.” you teased, flashing him a cheeky grin. admitting defeat, yeonjun smiled gratefully.
“lemme just go change out of this uniform. be out in a sec!” he responded, hurriedly rushing back into the change room.
as you waited, you began filing the ball racks back into the gym storage. yeonjun didn’t take very long, returning back in his school uniform, hair still dishevelled. his white button up was messily tucked into his grey slacks and his tie wasn’t properly done up. even though he looked incredibly hot in his basketball uniform, you couldn’t help but enjoy this messy look of his.
and man, did you want to kiss him again.
he let out an exhausted sigh as he made his way towards you. “thank you for helping,” he said quietly. you shot him a meaningful look.
he glanced at you confused. “what?”
you grinned almost deviously, taking his hand and leading him back into the storage room. you yanked at his tie, pulling him closer to you and then pressed your lips together, more eagerly than he did before. yeonjun gasped into the kiss, but settled into it almost immediately. 
your eagerness had him pressed up against a storage shelf littered with gym class equipment. you rested your hands around his neck, gently playing with locks of his hair. he held you at your waist, hands occasionally wandering.
each time your lips threatened to separate, they’d be drawn right back together. the soft sounds of lips smacking filled the dull room, and your breaths became increasingly louder.
in the midst of lip-locking, you pulled away to compliment him. “you did so good today,” you breathed out. he kissed you once more.
“i could only do it because of you,” he pulled away this time, before cupping your face again and pulling you deeper into the kiss.
your hands now roamed his messy locks just as you did before, blissfully allowing yourself to indulge in your handsome boyfriends’ plush lips even more.
yeonjun pulled away again, and you almost whined at his absence. but, before you knew it, he started pecking at your cheek and moving downward. he began slowly leaving longer kisses on your neck, and you found yourself needing to stifle any noises.
“not here, yeonjun!” you exclaimed.
“then hurry and help me finish cleaning up.”
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blackhairedjjun · 7 months
Text
the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
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pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: fluff, friends to lovers, reader who likes to cook, ft. friend!taehyun | word count: 2.7k | warnings: food, some profanity
author's notes: yeonjun birthday fic made it on time!! this was more rushed than my usual writing bc i was cramming it in between work, i've been super busy these days :'( but i've wanted to do yeonjun with an s/o who loves to cook for him for a while, and his birthday was the perfect opportunity to write it. so i'm relieved to get this out!
this fic has been cross-posted to ao3 here
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the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
you never believed the sentiment yourself until your friend taehyun invited you to hang out with some of his other friends. at the first mention you had doubts about going, but when taehyun mentioned the word potluck, you just couldn’t resist 一 he knew it was a magic word for you.
you didn’t prepare anything too fancy, just a modest batch of tteokbokki. you love how comforting the dish was, from the warm and spicy aroma of the sauce to its soft and springy rice cakes, and it’s a safe thing to make to leave a good impression on taehyun’s friends. at his house you set your tteokbokki on the makeshift buffet table that he had set up, and pray that the guests would actually give your dish a chance.
you underestimated just how much of an impact it would have.
taehyun’s friends love it, but one friend in particular catches your eye. as he takes his first bite his expression changes, his whole face seemingly glowing with delight. his smile is so wide that he’s barely able to keep his mouth shut to chew, and he squirms in his seat in a little dance.
you’ve cooked for others plenty of times before, but you’ve never seen anyone so utterly transformed by your cooking.
“this is so good! mm, i’m so happy... this is so yummy, really... wait, who brought this again?”
taehyun gestures towards you. “y/n cooked it. they’re really good, right? this is, well, it’s their thing.”
his friend whips his head towards you, the wide smile still plastered on his face. it reaches all the way to his eyes, and you see the way they shine in appreciation.
“thank you so much for bringing this,” he says. “can you make this again when you come back?”
you’ve only known this friend for an hour or so and he’s already talking about coming back, which makes your heart flutter and your face grow warm. “s-sure, i’d love to.”
it’s a few months before you’re free again to come to the next hangout, and when taehyun reintroduces you to his friends you note the name of the one whose face lit up at your tteokbokki: yeonjun. this time you’ve brought some spaghetti cooked in freshly made tomato sauce, and again it’s a hit. yeonjun loves it as much as the tteokbokki, and when he’s slurped up his plate and cleaned up he thanks you profusely and looks at you as if you were a saint 一 the patron saint of good food, perhaps. you can’t help but give him a shy smile, and you swear that his cheeks turned a little pink at the gesture.
the day flies by in the presence of good food and good company. when you finally have to leave, yeonjun stops you for a moment; he meets your gaze head on, but the fidgeting of his hands betrays him.
“d’you want to hang out sometime? just you and me, i mean.”
“oh, are you sick of taehyun too?”
from the corner of your eye you see your mutual friend laugh and give you a sly grin. your remark seems to fluster yeonjun, though; he turns his head away to collect himself, which only makes taehyun laugh a bit more.
“i was kidding, i was kidding. but yeah, i’d love to hang out.”
“cool, great.” 
“yeah, cool.”
you try to play it off but your heart pounds in your ears. and though yeonjun is leaning against the wall and trying to seem calm about the whole thing, his heart is racing just as much.
you don’t cook for your first hangout together (he brings you to his favorite ramen shop in the area, which also happens to be your favorite ramen shop in the area) but on your second hangout you make an impromptu meal by cobbling together a stew from whatever you have in your fridge. yeonjun devours it, eating every vegetable and chunk of meat and sip of stew with pure joy all over his face, and when he’s done he stands up to wash the dishes for you. you try to stop him, only for him to gently take your hand before you can grab a sponge. his touch sends a jolt of electricity right through you.
“let me do this for you,” he says. “i wanna thank you for the meal.”
“you don’t have to, yeonjun, i just threw a bunch of stuff together in a pot一”
“please?” he says with a pout. “you’re so sweet for making this, let me repay you.”
his eyes meet yours and you feel your heart soften at the way he looks at you. “okay, fine... and thank you.”
you hang out with him many more times 一 sometimes he invites you, other times you invite him. there’s always a bit of food to share, whether it’s snacks from the convenience store or a home-cooked meal by yourself, but it’s the little moments between the bites of food that make the time worth it. 
one hot afternoon yeonjun helps you clean up after your ice cream has melted and dripped on you, and his hands brush against yours as he dabs an extra napkin against a messy spot on your sleeve. another evening you laugh when he spills some of his pasta out of his plate from too much excitement, and you tut playfully as you give him a bit of your share. on another day you plan to have breakfast together at a nice restaurant to watch the sunrise, only for both of you to stay up late and oversleep. instead you invite him over and team up to make lunch, and soon your kitchen is a mess of flour and breadcrumbs from the breaded pork cutlets you’re trying to make. you sing along to yeonjun’s playlist as you soak a piece of pork in egg, and next to you he draws a heart with the flour residue on the countertop.
you don’t know when exactly your hangouts cross the threshold into dates, but at one point you realize that things feel different when it’s just you and him around. the world feels smaller, the light of day feels brighter,  and even the meals you cook seem to stay warmer for longer. taehyun catches up with you over text as usual all throughout, and when you tell him about your friendship with yeonjun, he simply texts back: friendship?
when yeonjun’s birthday draws near, you know exactly what you want to do: make one of his favorite foods, pho, from scratch. finding a good recipe online is easy, and visit to your local market provides you with every ingredient you need. it’s not the most complicated thing you’ve tried to make, and watching videos of other chefs try it out gives you a bit of confidence.
so why on earth are you so damn nervous to make it? 
“i’ve never been so scared to fuck up a dish in my life,” you tell taehyun as you skim some fat off the top of the broth simmering away in a pot. it’s the day of yeonjun’s birthday and you’ve got another hangout (or date?) later that night, and taehyun has offered to help with preps. 
“when you’re scared for something, it just means that you care a lot about it,” he says. he looks up from chopping the onions for the pho and gives you a nod. “you’ve cooked gifts for other people before, you can definitely do this.”
“that’s exactly it!” you say, tossing away the scum you’ve collected. “i made a whole pizza for your birthday this year, taehyun. i roasted pork for my parents’ wedding anniversary, and that should’ve been way scarier than this. but with yeonjun, i… i feel like i can’t fuck this up. if i think about serving him bad pho or even mediocre pho and him getting sad over it, it makes me want to throw myself out of here and go into hiding forever. i’ve never felt like that about anything before.”
“you’ve known him for a few months, not as long as you’ve known me. you want to show the best of yourself for him.” taehyun smiles. “that’s not a bad thing at all.”
“i guess.” you fidget with a wooden spoon as you mull over his words. he’s right, but it’s not like you wanted to settle for mediocrity with your other friends or with your parents either. there’s something else at play, but you dare not admit it out loud. (taehyun already knows anyway, you figure.)
you’re glad to have your friend’s company in the hours it takes for the broth to fully absorb all the flavors. taehyun puts on some of your favorite shows and helps you stretch to ease away your stress, and though you check on your pot from time to time, the two of you also prepare your space. he tells you about his own forays into cooking — he recently ordered a new set of knives that he can’t wait to try — as you place a clean tablecloth on the dining table and wash a set of bowls. his company grounds you and makes the nervousness swirling around in your stomach feel more like a gentle current than a roaring wave.
with the broth done and most of the pho ingredients ready for assembly, the two of you are waiting for the rice noodles to cook when a text from yeonjun arrives.
i’ll be there in 15 mins!
taehyun reads the text over your shoulder and grins. “do you need any more help with the pho?”
“nah, i’m good.”
“that means i can leave, then,” he says with an odd half-smile you rarely see on him. “enjoy your dinner with yeonjun.”
“thanks, taehyun. hey, wait一”
he picks up his bag in record speed and when you blink, he’s at your doorway. “tell me about it over text.”
“hey!”
he’s gone.
you’ve never seen taehyun leave your apartment so fast, and you suspect he knows something that you don’t. still, you don’t let yourself worry about it too much, not when preparing your pho should be the first thing on your mind. you check back on the noodles boiling away in your pot and let out a sigh.
i hope this turns out well, you think.
“so, y/n, what do you have ready for tonight? i hope it’s go一 oh...”
“happy birthday, yeonjun.”
whatever remark he was about to make fades into silence when you set down two bowls of pho in front of him. he’s entranced by the savory aroma, the steam swirling upward from each bowl, the noodles and thin slices of onions nearly glistening under the light. you see his lips form a perfect O, the way it always does when his favorite food shows up in front of him.
he doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble as you set down each bowl, or the way your eyes nervously dart back and forth between the pho and his expression. you wonder if he’s excited enough, if the pho will live up to his expectations, then you look at his bowl and think maybe he would like more noodles, maybe the cilantro should be fresher, maybe the broth isn’t salty or sour or spicy enough...
taehyun always said you’re your own worst critic, and you feel all the little criticisms coming in one after the other as you settle down opposite yeonjun. he does a little dance in his seat as he squeezes the lime over the bowl, then looks at you with a smile that lights up his whole face. “it smells so good,” he says. “i can’t wait!”
that’s one good sign, but nothing definitive.
“well, i won’t keep you waiting any longer,” you say. “dig in!”
“thank you for the food!”
the moment it takes for him to slurp up the noodles feels like an eternity to you. as you watch him eat, you pray that the first slurp was as good as it should be, that the noodles were firm enough. then he looks up from the bowl and at you, and you pray that—
he’s smiling. 
it’s different from his earlier excited smile. this one also reaches all the way up to his eyes, but it’s laced with pure adoration. you’ve seen the way his face changes after eating good food countless times, but now this expression seems more tender; he gazes at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.
you swallow. “is it… good?”
“good? it’s amazing. y/n… you’re so good to me.”
you’re smiling back at him too, and something blooms in you as you gaze back. you feel full of many things: relief, appreciation, affection…
maybe even love.
you feel it bloom as you watch him slurp on the broth and savor each piece of beef with gusto, stopping only to gush about how good it is and how good you are. you feel it settle in you when you dig into your own bowl, savoring the rich flavors of the beef and spices and lime that you poured yourself into, not caring when a bit of broth dribbles off your chin or a noodle falls off and yeonjun giggles at the sight. and you feel it grow in your heart when you try to reach for his empty bowl to wash up, only for him to take your hand again. this time you feel not a jolt of electricity but a wave of warmth.
“rest, you worked hard today. i’ll clean up.”
“it’s your birthday, yeonjun! you are not washing the dishes on your birthday.”
“but what if i want to?” he pouts at you and he knows you can’t resist. “or we can wash them together? what if i want to spend my birthday washing up with you?”
you sigh but relent.
you don’t dare say it to him, but washing up with yeonjun is… comforting. it takes longer than usual, but you don’t mind as he talks about the gift his mom mailed him or about his plans with taehyun and the other guys tomorrow. he tells you some pretty bad dad jokes and you nearly drop the last bowl you’re rinsing from laughing at how awful they are.
he’s still laughing as he pries the clean bowl from your hands and sets it on the rack to dry, and as his hands brush yours, you meet his gaze. he’s looking at you with that same tender look from when he first tried the pho, and your cheeks begin to warm.
“thank you for cooking for me.”
“of course, i want to—”
“you’re always so good to me,” he says. he takes your hands in his, and yours start to tremble; it’s okay, because his do too. “i’ve never had someone who treated me like this before. i want to… i…”
he falters and looks away from you, and you see a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. he sucks in a breath and when he looks at you again, you move your face closer to his.
you don’t remember who initiates the kiss; all you know is that his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. he wraps his arms around you and you relax in his arms, knowing that nothing your ever make will taste as sweet as this.
when you break apart for air he looks sheepish, nothing like the confident friend you’ve known, but you love the way his eyes shine. his voice is breathy when he speaks: “i like you, y/n.”
“i like you too,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and brushing your nose against his. a second kiss would be even sweeter, and his lips nearly brush against yours when…
your phone rings and you nearly jump out of his arms.
“what the hell!”
it’s taehyun.
beomgyu i think hyung would be confessing right about now
oh wrong chat
hi y/n :)
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niki-phoria · 1 month
Text
YOU'RE MY ONLY LOVE FROM HEAVEN
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pairing: non idol!yeonjun x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 789
includes: mentions of studying, yeonjun is a little cocky, written with a jock x nerd dynamic in mind but it doesn't really come through lol
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“you’re staring.” you just barely catch the mischievous glint in yeonjun’s eyes when he meets your gaze. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he props face against his hand. 
“you’re handsome,” you retort. the flicker of surprise that flashes across his face fills you with pride. everything about yeonjun drips with confidence - from the relaxed way his eyes scan your expression to the compliments that leave his lips with ease - which only makes it all the more satisfying in those rare moments when you’re able to fluster him. 
he’s smiling now, absentmindedly pushing a hand through his hair as he chuckles. with his bangs pushed back, even if only slightly, you’re fully able to see his features. there’s a barely noticeable pink tint on his plump lips. despite the eyebags you can see lingering underneath his eyes, you’ve never heard a complaint dare to escape his lips. 
the report you were supposed to be writing is all but forgotten when yeonjun leans a little closer. the space separating you is somehow simultaneously too much and too little. he’s close enough for you to touch, but not enough to feel. it’s infuriating. and, even worse, yeonjun knows it.
“is your flirting always this bold?” 
you cock your head at him in mock confusion, glancing back down at your still-open textbook in a poor attempt to return to your studying. “who said i was flirting?”
yeonjun only offers a soft hum in response. a momentary silence falls over the room. for a second, the only noise you can hear is the soft ticking of a lonely clock hanging on the wall, reminding you of how little time you have to finish your work. 
unfortunately, your peace doesn’t last for long. 
the chair beside you achingly scrapes against the floor before yeonjun slides into the seat beside you. his knees knock against your own as he dramatically opens his books, flipping mindlessly through the pages before he settles on his destination with a satisfied hum. “what did you get for number seven?”
the question is so innocuous it almost catches you off guard at first. you wait for a second, waiting for a snarky remark that never comes. “twelve.” 
“thanks.”
when you turn to glance at yeonjun again, you’re almost shocked to see him already staring at you. it shouldn’t fluster you nearly as much as it does. he softly smiles, reaching over to push a stray strand of hair out of your face. “choi,” you do your best to sound intimidating, though you can even hear the way your words falter. his fingers trail along your jawline before finally settling against your cheek; his thumb gently brushes against your cheek.
“y/n,” he murmurs. yeonjun’s gaze lowers to stare at your lips before he meets your eyes once again. his touch feels like it’s igniting fires against your skin. “is this okay?”
you manage a simple nod in response. yeonjun smiles softly in return. you’re half expecting him to pull away, return to his playful teasing and maybe copy down a few of your answers onto his own paper. but he doesn’t. 
instead, he leans in a little closer. your heartbeat is even faster than before. you feel hyper-aware of everything around you: yeonjun’s hand still resting against your cheek, the limited distance between your bodies, the way his gaze lingers on your lips for just a little too long. 
yeonjun stops when there are still a few centimeters between your faces. there’s enough space for you to pull away - to turn back to your work and pretend like this never happened. to go back to the way it was before. 
but you don’t. you don’t want to.
his lips part slightly. you’re not sure what he’s about to say. 
your body moves faster than your mind. tentatively, you press your lips against yeonjun’s. a second passes before he reacts. and then, you both decide there’s no going back now. 
yeonjun’s lips are soft against your own. they smell faintly of mint - so light it’s barely there. your bodies mold together perfectly. 
yeonjun’s cheeks are dusted a light pink when you pull away. the sight makes you chuckle quietly to yourself. “oh, wait,” you freeze when yeonjun reaches over, carefully pulling a stray eyelash off of your cheek. 
you can feel heat spreading throughout your entire body. your heart races in your chest. you’ve never felt like this before. or at least, you’ve never noticed it before. 
yeonjun smiles as he rests the thin strand of hair on his finger, holding it up towards you. “make a wish.” 
despite yourself, you chuckle softly, closing your eyes before you gently blow it away. i wish to feel like this forever.
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notes: my apologies for the lack of fics, my motivation has been HORRIBLE lately <//3 not proofread, so pls forgive any mistakes !!
if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my txt materlist <33
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miupow · 2 months
Text
ᴄʀᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ★ ᴄ.ʏᴊ
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❝Your blood sucking boyfriend needs you bad, and he doesn't care how late it is.❞
PAIRING: vampire!choi yeonjun x fem!reader RATING: NSFW, MDNI! WARNINGS: smut, established relationship, vampire au, soft dom!yeonjun, soft sex, blood mention/blood sucking, vampire venom mention (kind of works like an aphrodisiac?), breast/nipple play, vaginal fingering, begging, dirty talk, like the smallest hint of anal (f. rec), praise kink, sickly sweet pet names WORDS: 1.3k A/N: this is a repost from my old account! originally written for my halloween event.
TAGLIST: @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @takemehye, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi, @numxra, @soobinsbuns, @taegimood, @jeniihss, @soobabby, @hhoneylix
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You're just on the verge of falling asleep when you feel strong arms wrap tight around your waist, the bed dipping to accommodate your boyfriend sliding into bed behind you. His bare chest presses up snug against your back, skin cold as ice, and you shiver when he leans his head down to press chaste kisses against your shoulder.
“I’m hungry,” Yeonjun whines in your ear, voice breathy and tight— you can feel his sharp canines graze your skin as he talks, his hips bump up against the swell of your ass; you can feel the weight of his cock through your thin nightgown like there was nothing but skin, stiff and twitching… so it was going to be one of those nights. “Need you bad, baby..” 
“But Jjunie, I was sleeping,” You whine back, petulant, trying to ignore the heat collecting in your belly. Your boyfriend always had such terrible timing.
“Mmm, don’t care~” Yeonjun coos, drags his teeth across your shoulder again, this time letting it catch on the strap of your nightgown, drag it down your arm. The side of your gown falls, exposing one of your tits, and Yeonjun is quick to cup it in his palm, pinch your nipple in between his index finger and thumb. “I'm starving, need you now… I can hear your heartbeat, my princess, I know you need me too~~”
He tugs hard on your nipple, makes your breath hitch, hips grind down, heart skip— he heard it, you could tell, with how he chuckles smugly into the crook of your neck.  “Smells so good..” he moans, nose burrowing further, begging for you to bear your neck to him— you do so without a fight, relish in the way he sucks in a breath, inhales your scent deeply. “Always taste so good, too… Please, just a bite…” 
You grit your teeth, prepared for the bite, but it never comes— instead Yeonjun licks a fat stripe up your neck with the flat of his tongue, nasty and lewd and leaving a wet trail that stings in the cool air. He finishes just under your ear, and you can nearly hear his smirk as he ghosts his canines across your skin, pretty pouty lips sucking a dark purple bruise. You gasp, bare more of your neck, twist in Yeonjun's strong embrace; your hips rock harder, faster together, sheer fabric of your nightgown wet with Yeonjun's precum and slowly riding up your thighs from the friction.
“Touch me,” you beg in a whisper, drenched panties sticking to your core. Yeonjun chuckles deep in his chest.
“Let me feed,” he twists your nipple one last time, letting go to trail his hand slow down your stomach to meet the lacy hem of your gown. He always knew exactly what card to play to get you to give in. 
“Fuck, fine, okay, just make it quick--” you plead, mostly for your own sanity— you could feel Yeonjun grin against your neck, hardly giving you any time to prepare before he bore his sharp fangs into you. 
“shit!” you hiss from the pain; no matter how many times you let Yeonjun feed from you, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sting and the burn from his bites. He's quick to apologize, his fingers finally coming to rest on your covered clit. He rubs a few gentle circles, fast and precise, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, and finally, finally the searing pain of his teeth is drowned out by the euphoria of his venom.  
You feel hot, burning, Yeonjun's cold tongue and breath doing nothing to cool you down— he licks up your blood in fat, broad swipes, wet and messy as he groans in your ear. “So good~” he pants hard, hips bucking, long index finger leaving your clit to trail down your soaked slit. “shit, you’re so wet for me…” 
You're dizzy, lightheaded, foggy brain unable to keep up with all of the pleasure; your hips flutter wildly, legs spread wide to give Yeonjun the most access. “Want you,” you garble, pussy soaked and clenching around nothing.  
Yeonjun momentarily pulls off of your neck, entranced by the way your blood pools around the puncture marks. You immediately whine pathetically for him, squirming, dazed and craving his lips back on your skin. “You want me, baby?” he teases, gentle fingers continuing to stroke your folds. “Want me how?”
His fingertip catches the hem of your panties, and you keen high in your throat— you can hardly speak, let alone string a sentence together, pretty little head empty and full of only Yeonjun… you want to cry out for him, watery, but all you manage is a pathetic, choked “Jjunie, your fingers, want your fingers, please—!” 
Your face burns, but Yeonjun is just as desperate as you are— he tugs your panties down your thighs in one swift motion, leaving them bunched around your knees to stuff your cunt full with two bony fingers— you let out a sob at the intrusion, head lolling back just enough for yeonjun to continue getting his fill. You welcome the feeling of his lips and tongue, shaking and whimpering as he begins to scissor you open to the rhythm of his suckles on your neck. 
“Mmm, ahh— Yeonjun!” you beg, but you’re not sure what for— Yeonjun's fingertips rub your sweet spot with perfect precision, his thumb coming up to rub tight, slick circles on your clit; you spread your legs wider, keen for more; your boyfriend gives it to you with a snicker, slides in a third finger alongside the others. “Please, please—“ 
“Please what?” Yeonjun goads, finishing his work on your neck with a lavish flick of his tongue. His fingers pump your pussy with vigor, nasty wet noises spilling from your  drenched folds— he curses with a moan, grabs again at your tit with his free hand, tweaking and tugging at your sensitive bud. “God, you’re so perfect f’me, perfect girl… feed me so well, so delicious~”
Your bite had stopped bleeding, healed over with a few sweet kitten licks from your lover, but his venom still coursed through your veins, set your skin on fire, belly taught and aching cunt begging for release— you were still under his thrall, perfect little doll for him to play with after he’s gotten his meal. The pace of Yeonjun's fingers were brutal against your sweet spot, palm of his hand sending hot sparks through your clit with every rock of your hips… His leaking, throbbing cock, nestled between your cheeks, fat cockhead sliding thick and heavy against your asshole with every sloppy thrust— Yeonjun kisses your earlobe, bites down gently, whispers so sweet and fond, “C'mon baby, please what? i haven’t gotten you stupid on my fingers now, have i?”
“I’m gonna cum!” you wail in response, pussy fluttering around his digits, clit pulsating, your hips wild caught in between his hand and his hips; Yeonjun coos, twists and bends his fingers just the way you like it, the heat coiled tightly in your belly threatening to snap. “Please, gonna cum, wanna cum, let me cum!”
“Nasty girl, creaming all over my fingers after i suck her dry,” Yeonjun giggles, cock twitching hard against your fluttering asshole. “Go ahead, princess, make a fuckin’ mess.” 
His free hand leaves your sore tit to pinch hard at your clit, long fingers fucking you open and playing with you just so perfect and right— you cum with a sharp cry, stretched out walls spasming, clamping down on yeonjun’s digits, swollen lips fluttering as you completely drench his hands in your release— Yeonjun talks you through it with sickly sweet “good girl”s and “good job”s, sticky fingers working your pretty abused hole despite just how hard you were clamping down, forcing them out— “So tight,” he groans brokenly in your ear, “Gotta fuck you now~” 
“I said be quick—“ you retort, voiced fried, bratty despite letting Yeonjun manhandle you with ease— he towers over you on the bed, hips knocking, fat cock brushing against your folds and making you whimper… Yeonjun grabs your thighs in his hands, folds you in half with dizzying strength and ease; grin wolfish, eyes dark, sharp teeth catching the moonlight— 
“Oh baby, we’re just beginning.” 
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ta3baee · 30 days
Text
ಇ - 𝓶𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆 𝓷𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕
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Pairing : Yeonjun x Chubby!Fem!Reader x Beomgyu
Warnings : Fingering on the couch, somewhat cockwarming, oc’s parents are oblivious to what is going on, you can imagine either Yeonjun or Beomgyu for this, I couldn’t decide between the two.
Ta3baee notes : Minors dni! I’m not responsible for what you consume on the internet. Reblogs are very much appreciated <3 not proofread, please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes.
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Beomgyu/Yeonjun who joins you in a family movie night, sitting with you on the couch, blanket and snacks surrounding you both while your parents sit farther from you two.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who makes light convo with your parents when they ask his opinion about a scene in the movie.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who moves his hand to your upper thigh, simply smiling innocently at you when you look at him with a questioning glance.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who fiddles with the strings of your sweats, eventually pulling on it to loosen the waistband.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who takes notice of your parents dozing off just 30 minutes into the movie (quite boring in his opinion but don’t tell your parents that).
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who shushes you when you open your mouth to say something as his hand moves under your sweats, cupping your warm cunt through your underwear.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who stimulates you through your underwear, arousal drenching and ruining the fabric.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who has to slap his hand over your mouth to stop you from moaning as you cum.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who makes you lick his fingers clean before pulling you onto his lap, making it seem like you guys are just cuddling with a blanket over you incase your parents wake up.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who positions his dick between your thighs, slapping it against your cunt a few times.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who lifts you to position himself at your hole, almost moaning out loud himself when he finally penetrates you. If you listen close, you could already hear the lewd sounds coming from under the blanket.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who has to grip your tummy pouch to contain himself from fucking you raw, his nails leaving red little crescent marks.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who has to bite your shoulder to stop himself from moaning, your walls are so tight around him despite you cumming a few minutes ago.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun whose dick spasms as he cums deep in you and stays inside of you until your parents start waking up.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who makes sure not to let an ounce of his cum drop out of you once he pulls out, sliding your underwear up to replace his dick.
Beomgyu/Yeonjun who will be eating his cum out of you that same night.
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267 notes · View notes
agustdiv1ne · 7 months
Text
ticket to nowhere (but your heart) (m) — cyj
pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader
genre: strangers to lovers au, photographer!yeonjun, artist!reader, fluff, angst, smսt
wc: 22.3k
synopsis: twelve days. twelve days is all you have on this godforsaken train to find the spark that will save your dying art career — but you never thought that you would find it in the enigmatic stranger that you can’t seem to stop running into.
warnings: mdni!! ageless + blank blogs dni!!!, mc is bad with feelings, is alluded to have anxiety, and is written as shorter than jjun (i'm sorry to my taller friends, i love you) + the same age as him (24), this takes place in various places across the u.s. (sorry in advance), mentions of food + alcohol, vvvvv brief depiction of potential self-injury when describing a painting, beomgyu + le sserafim's sakura, chaewon, and yunjin (called jennifer here just bc i felt like it) are featured, dom!jjun, sub!mc, soft sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), light begging, multiple orgasms, protected sex (hooray!), missionary, praise
note: part of @majestyjun's yeonjun bday event!! REPOSTED bc tumblr decided to not let this show up in the tags (edit: it's now showing up!!) </3 also my longest fic to date, so that's something
*:・playlist・:*
(cross-posted to ao3 here!)
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masterlist
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everything in your life is bland. gray.
the food that you eat, the people that you become acquainted with, the skyscrapers above you that grasp for the sky and fail to reach it — they have all become so monotone and somber and utterly lifeless. something within you gnaws at itself, aching with pain — though the sharpness of the feeling has been blunted by the passing of time — because you used to adore the city that you call home. you used to find unrivaled beauty in the skyscrapers that spread across manhattan, in the lush green parks scattered amongst the urban landscape that would turn warm and golden as summer metamorphosed into autumn, in the people that would walk by you with their unapologetic, unique fashion and confidence. the very things you used to love have dulled in hue, washes of the vibrancy you once appreciated and took significant inspiration from. 
throughout your apartment lay half-baked paintings and charcoal drawings and pieces with odd compositions from that one month where you went through a mixed media phase, staring at you with their paint-streaked eyes, mocking you. finish us, their fragmentary faces scream. they beg for you to provide them with souls, to be their maker, their creator — but not quite their god. you are not pretentious enough to go that far, to paint yourself as that self-important, that narcissistic. you are far from a god. if you were, you would be in a larger apartment, a penthouse worth millions of dollars in soho or maybe the upper east side. if you were a god, you would purchase the finest art supplies in the world, have your pieces be displayed in major galleries to be auctioned off for hundreds of thousands — no, millions of dollars by pretentious art collectors to be hung up in their gaudy mansions, their own slices of heaven. however, in reality, you fall exceptionally short of a higher being; in truth, you are a rather simple woman who had transplanted herself from her suffocating hometown to brooklyn as soon as you completed your undergraduate degree. a tiny little apartment in brooklyn, new york city, new york — an adumbration of purgatory, floating somewhere between heaven and hell. trapped, trapped, trapped. nowhere to go. 
sitting on your bed, the balls of your feet pressed against the cool wooden floor, you ponder if these thoughts, this density of emotions burrowing into your stomach, are a symptom of burnout. maybe even artist’s block, though in the past you’ve often remarked that the concept doesn’t exist. you had never experienced it, so in your sorely narrow-minded view, it simply couldn’t be possible, and other artists were simply blaming their laziness on this elusive concept. what a fool you were for ever thinking that. shame hangs like a heavy weight within your chest; who are you to criticize the experiences of other artists when you know how difficult a creative’s life can be? how could you be so insolent? 
a raging hypocrite, really, is what you think you must be. a blank, blurry stare scans over your space, the coolness of the floor spreading up into your toes. an easel in the corner, near one of the small windows that allows for a view of mostly red brick, a sliver of blue-brown water where the hudson and east rivers meet, and a few lower manhattan skyscrapers that tower high in the air across the watery expanse. it’s not that far from your bed, which sits on the wall opposite below a second window, the slightest bit larger than the other one. most of your apartment is taken up by supplies rather than actual decor, a jar of paintbrushes on your small, round dining table in the corner near your kitchen instead of a vase of flowers, works-in-progress on the walls rather than posters, pictures. 
you live and breathe art, and your entire apartment reflects that, but the oxygen is getting thinner and thinner.
even then, you’re not quite sure how long you have felt this way — it’s not as if you woke up one day and noticed the change. it wasn’t sudden like a car accident, slamming into you one second and leaving you to cope with the aftermath the next. quite the opposite, really, more akin to the tide slowly coming to shore, washing over more of your body with each incoming wave. soothing, flowing along with each ebb and flow, pulling you further and further away from the beach until you have nowhere else to go but down. 
weak fingers dig into the white comforter below you, curling into the fabric with a surging desperation — for what, you are unsure. comfort? someone to hold you? you haven’t felt the embrace of another, the warm sensation of lips pressed against your own, in an embarrassingly long time. the dating world had slipped from your hands long ago, shattering on the floor like a snow globe, your wants and hopes and desires to love and be loved soaking your lacerated feet and stinging as it enters your wounds. your mind trails to beomgyu, a fellow artist who you had met when you could afford a private studio in a warehouse one burrow over. he was fun, a sappy romantic, and he made you laugh to no end — but he ruined you. he moved across the country without warning and you’d never heard from him again, leaving you heartbroken and with questions you’d never get answers to. you wonder how he’s doing now, if san francisco is treating him well. his number is still in your phone. you should delete it. you need to delete it. you need to make dinner. you need to finish that commission. you need to do a lot of things.
you need to get out of here. 
fuck, you do. the desperation surging within your veins takes the new form of a beast, clawing its way up your throat. you need to leave the city and experience new places and see new things and—
finally, you wrench yourself off of your bed after hours of sitting there. snatching your laptop from the floor, you search. you search and search and search for something that will get you out of this city, albeit temporarily. several different trips to italy — too expensive, and too far away from here. an airbnb in florida — you’ve never been a fan of humidity, and you don’t think only seeing one city will be enough to sate you. come on, come on, there has to be something. 
and then you find it: twelve days on a train, across the country. stops in chicago, denver, san francisco, seattle, and even a national park for half a day before looping back through chicago and back to new york. this sounds…perfect. your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the price as you scroll down. for you, it’s expensive, so fucking expensive, but…
“you need to let go and enjoy life for once,” one of your friends told you at a party a few months ago, when you were experiencing a less incapacitating version of the burnout you currently face, when you had thought it was a mere blip in your unending motivation. of course, you hadn’t listened to jennifer and her sound (and moscato-induced) advice, opting to throw yourself further into your art and ultimately fail at creating anything worthwhile. you regret it now, because you feel stuck. terribly, utterly stuck — but this is your chance to change that. 
you need this; you can make the sacrifice to your already thinning bank account, you think. let go, enjoy life. let go, enjoy life — you repeat those four words over and over again as you type in your card information, as you click the button to book the trip, as you read over the confirmation email that outlines the steps you need to take before you leave. let go, enjoy life, and you will. you will, and you will relight that dimming, nearly extinguished fire within you while you’re at it. you’ll make damn sure of it. 
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day one. 
your heart is pounding. the rapid ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump roars in your ears like thunder as people upon people walk past, shoving against both of your shoulders as you stand in front of a board full of green and yellow and red. the sounds of voices and rolling luggage echo across the high, transparent ceilings of the station which allow for a view of the sky above. early mornings and you do not agree with each other, and today is no exception; poorly-veiled dark circles sit beneath your eyes, illuminated by the soft, warm light streaming in from above. looking down at your phone and back up at the screen again, you find that your train is thankfully on time, the bright green letters helping loosen the tightness gathered in your shoulders as you roll them back once, twice. your teeth skirt your bottom lip while you nod to yourself, then scan the spacious building for the escalator that will take you down to the correct platform. 
you hate that you’re nervous. the feeling twists your stomach into knots and flushes your face, cheeks hot as you stand there and wait out the remaining minutes before you can board. it doesn’t even make sense — you should be happy to get out of town, to go places you’ve never been to before, but all you can focus on is the unease creeping up your throat and blooming sour on your tongue. perhaps this is actually excitement that you are feeling. maybe you’re reading it all wrong — jennifer was more than ecstatic when you told her of your impromptu trip, saying “this is what you need! this might be your breakthrough!” 
ever since you met the her, she was always a degree more optimistic than you. looking on the bright side of things, no matter what dire circumstances lay splayed out across the dealer’s table. what’s stopping you from being the same way? several things, but at the same time, jennifer is right: you need this. your hands jitter with an odd combination of excitement and fear — maybe it’s simply the thought of solo travel that is so intimidating. yeah, it has to be. it will pass soon enough — hopefully. you roughly shove your set of headphones onto your head, slipping them over your ears. music will have to do for now, if only to prevent thoughts from racing through your head. 
once you board, you learn that your quarters are…small, though that was expected. it reminds you of your studio apartment, almost; cramped, but lacking the scattered paint tubes and canvases and miscellaneous mediums that you have not laid a single finger upon in months now. the small, travel-size tubes of paint sitting in your backpack weigh your shoulders down, begging to be taken out and spread across the small, flat canvases that are tucked snugly beside them. you muffle their pleas by turning up the music streaming through your headphones. closing the door behind you, you softly hum to the current song in your ears, shoving your suitcase in the corner of the room. 
once the attendant checks your ticket, you decide to take a nap — who cares if it’s early? you barely got enough sleep last night in the first place, too nervous to allow your eyes to shut. collapsing onto your bed, you pull the curtains next to it shut and allow yourself to drift off into a quiet, dreamless sleep.
*:・
you awake around noon with a growling stomach. with a sigh, you rub your tired eyes and sit up, smoothing out your rumpled shirt. after a quick look on your camera to make sure none of your mascara has transferred below your eyes, you make your way to the dining car that’s not too far from your own.
it’s nice, quaint; simply decorated like the rest, with large, square windows divided by thin pieces of wood lining each side. smaller tables line the wall to your right, two seats at each, while larger, four-person tables sit to your left. you opt for a two-seater towards the middle, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the people present. you stare out at the greenery that blurs outside the window, listening to the low rumble of the train, mindlessly thumbing the laminated menu laying on the table. while you wait for the waitress to get to your table, a light, feminine voice knocks you from your own little world.
“excuse me?” the voice asks. you flinch in response, blinking hard as you look to your left and find two women sitting at the four-seater next to you. they’re both pretty, brown-eyed with full lips curved into twin smiles. they don’t look like sisters, though — more so friends. 
“yes?” you politely say, wondering what they could want with you. the shorter-haired one’s smile grows wider once you speak. she has a rounder face than the other girl, her black bangs ending above her eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners. 
“are you waiting for anyone?” the other girl asks, the one with a long wolfcut and wide, hypnotizing eyes. definitely not sisters, you think, they look nothing alike. 
shaking your head, you softly murmur, “i’m not.”
“would you like to join us, then?” the wide-eyed one asks, a hopeful glint shining in her eyes. 
“i...i wouldn’t want to intrude,” you reply. your mouth curls into something apologetic, as if you’re the one burdening them despite them being the ones to ask you. this interaction feels weird, awkward, and a very large part of you wishes you could melt through the floor and disappear forever. 
“you wouldn’t!” straight black bob chimes in, hands clasped together on top of the table as she leans towards you. cheery, excitable. “we wouldn’t mind at all, really.”
you nod with a tiny, somewhat nervous grin as you take the seat closest to you, right next to wide-eyed wolfcut. you offer them your name, unsure what else to give them. your age? your profession? your deep-seated trauma? okay, definitely not that last one. 
“it’s nice to meet you,” straight black bob says, while the other chimes in with a soft hum of affirmation. “i’m chaewon.”
“and i’m sakura,” wolfcut adds with a dip of her chin.
hands placed snugly in your lap, you pick at your thumb nail. your back is stiff in the chair, and you hope they won’t notice. “it’s nice to meet you guys too. are you traveling together?” 
both of them giggle, glancing at each other for a moment before swiveling their eyes back to you. for a moment, you’re confused. why was that so funny? they look to be decent friends, at least from your limited interactions with them thus far.
“we actually just met a few minutes ago,” wolfcut — no, sakura claims. oh, so they’re not friends, then. “we ran into each other— like, quite literally ran into each other.”
“it was…kinda bad,” chaewon laughs before she takes a sip of water. “my ass is still sore.”
you huff a laugh at that, all air and no sound, and the conversation continues with a light-hearted air to it. as the minutes tick by, you learn that chaewon is a graduate student taking a gap semester, while sakura owns her own makeup line, a small business that is beginning to pick up speed thanks to social media. one lives in brooklyn—
“no way,” you gasp at chaewon. “where at?” 
sakura, meanwhile, resides in upper manhattan. even more information about them bombards your brain as all of you begin to eat, but you doubt you’ll remember most of it by tomorrow, even later today — it’s alright, though. the three of you have exchanged numbers (to create a group chat) and have basically promised to be travel buddies for the coming days. your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, grateful to find kind, welcoming people on this train — you’d think that jennifer would like them. the way they interact with each other is somewhat reminiscent of your and jennifer’s friendship. friends…yeah, you can see the three of you becoming good friends. 
“can we see some of your art?” chaewon asks, bob shifting like a wave around her head as she shakes it. oh, yeah. you had briefly mentioned your profession, though shame barred you from sharing your reasons that led you to this train in the first place. 
you cringe. “oh, well—”
“i’m sure it’s great!” she continues. “c’mon, pleaseee?”
with sparkling doe eyes and hands clasped tightly together, it’s difficult to say no — and you don’t, shaking your head a little as you pull up your instagram account. while you’re proud of the pieces you’ve posted on there, they aren’t your most emotional. those ones are saved in your camera roll, and that is where they will stay, only for your eyes (and a very few select others) to see. they coo and aw as they swipe through, your phone placed on the table between them. heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to pick at the remnants of your lunch sitting on your plate. deep down, their kind comments cause an unusual sense of guilt to invade your heart. why couldn’t you produce shit like that now? what the hell is wrong with you?
with a polite smile, you thank them and move to excuse yourself before your pathetic sense of self-pity can consume you. they seem a bit surprised by your abrupt exit, but they also take it in stride, offering to text you later for dinner. slipping from your seat, you send them a wave before setting off towards the door from which you initially came. 
*:・
you don’t know what spurred you to make a stop at your room and snatch your sketchbook from your backpack before heading to the observation car, but after a whole lot of sitting and not one speck of sketching, you kind of, sort of have started to hate yourself for that decision. 
the open page in your lap is abysmally blank. no marks, no little trees or lush fields or flowers or anything that you see speeding by outside the window. your pencil has been poised against the page for the longest time, dark gray dots scattered across the page where you would press the point of the pencil to start making a mark and subsequently give up. another hour with no progress ticks by, but you still can’t make it move. move, why won’t your hand just move? 
flipping it shut, you lean back in your seat with a deep sigh. you can’t force these things, you know that much, but that won’t stop you from trying — and failing — to produce something. you’d rather not dwell on that for too long, though. those thoughts are what got you here in the first place. instead, you allow your tense muscles to relax, your eyes to lose focus and blur, blobs of green and blue passing by your vision. soft murmurs from other passengers meld together into a wall of droning noise, soft and soothing. 
that is, until the sound of someone settling into a seat a couple away from your own pops your little bubble like a sharp, pointed pin pressing into the skin of a balloon. blinking your vision back into focus, you take a quick glance to your right and—
holy shit, he’s beautiful. a sloping nose and pink, plush lips, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model of some sort with a face like that. his dark, slightly outgrown hair frames his side profile perfectly, sweeping back towards the back of his head where it begins to curl down the back of his neck. there’s this sort of dreamy, ethereal quality to his looks, like the universe took it’s sweet time creating him, lovingly placed tiny little stars in his sable, fox-like eyes and kissed his skin with the sun’s gentle rays, a light pink dusted across his cheeks — or, at least, the one cheek that you can see. bulky headphones sit snugly over his ears as he simply watches the landscapes pass by, one long leg crossed over the other. before you register the movement of your hands, your sketchbook is flipped back open to that very same blank page you’d given up on mere moments ago, fingers gripping your pencil once more. fluid like water is how your hand moves across the page, capturing the unique shape of his eyes, his soft yet defined jawline, the slope of his neck…
for the first time in months, you lose yourself in your work, yet you don’t even register this small breakthrough. peeking back up at the beautiful stranger every once in a while, you slowly carve out his likeness on the page in front of you, begin to add his surroundings and even a background, shading with light, circular strokes as you go, building up the deposit of graphite where it is needed most, defining the shape of his pouty lips and the strong cupid’s bow that connects his top lip to his nose, mapping out the flow and shape of locks of hair with dark, daring strokes, graphite pressing hard into the page. you even add some flyways for good measure. in your frenzied bout of drawing, you have hunched over in your chair, an old habit that is rearing its ugly head now that you don’t have a standing easel to work with. straightening your aching spine, you sit back and observe your sketch, wondering if you have missed any defining details—
and when you move to look up and take in his features again, he is staring right back at you. 
oh.
oh, fuck. 
frozen in your seat, you can’t tear your gaze away from his own, a hint of concern swirling in his irises. his eyebrows raise, eyes slightly wide as he tilts his head. the corners of his pretty lips raise, parting as if about to speak — and he does.
“are you okay?”
his deep voice snaps you out of your stupor, flinching before you quickly flip your notebook shut and sent him a tight smile paired with a nod, eyes darting around to look everywhere but him. your heart just might leap out of your chest at this rate, tear open your sternum and collide with the floor. you almost wish it would. 
he’s frowning now, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “uh, are you sure—”
without another glance at him, you stand, clutch your notebook and pencil tight enough that it presses marks into your skin, and book it straight out of there with swift and featherlight steps. you don’t look back, far too embarrassed to even consider it, not stopping until you reach your room. the door is slammed shut behind you, but the nerves-induced ache in your chest won’t fade. pressing the cool backs of your hands against your fiery cheeks, you resist the urge to slap yourself. what the fuck is wrong with you? you should’ve just answered him and apologized for staring. he probably thinks you’re some creep now, with your weird little notebook and lack of verbal response — and the way you left. god, if a hole opened up and swallowed you whole, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“you are so fucking embarrassing,” you hiss, venemous words aimed straight at yourself, your head buried in your hands as you curl up on the bed. day one, day fucking one, and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of someone.
maybe you should stay in here for the rest of your trip.
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day two.
“...why is it so big?”
chaewon is referring to cloud gate — or, rather, what is more popularly known as the bean — a terribly ugly, silver, oversized, bean-shaped art installation that sits in chicago’s millennium park. an art installation that you, quite frankly, despise mostly due to the artist behind the work. given that anish kapoor is an elitist prick who has shit on the art world with his wealth and hates when people call his piece the bean, you take great, overwhelming satisfaction in calling it that. 
her question — paired with her furrowed eyebrows — causes you and sakura to snicker to yourselves. you’re grateful that they texted you this morning, had forced you out of your room because you actually were going to go through with your staying-in-your-room-forever plan (for today, at least). this park is your first stop of many, but you really want to get this part over with so that you don’t have to see this gargantuan, chrome bean ever again. despite its ugliness, you can admit that the slightly warped, mirrored reflection of the city that it provides is kind of interesting to look at, and it makes for some cool pictures. 
(still, fuck anish kapoor. you refuse to give that man any credit.)
you end up taking a photo of you flipping it off from afar, sending it to jennifer with a smirk before helping the other two girls with some of their own photos. here, there’s no pressure to create, only to enjoy and experience what surrounds you, no matter how tourist-y it may be. 
sakura slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to her, arm extended out to take a selfie. your hand raises in a peace sign at the camera, smile bright and wide like the sun above. there’s not an inkling of worry in your expression — until you see him. 
the guy from yesterday, standing maybe ten feet away. he dons an unbuttoned striped shirt layered over a tank top which is tucked into baggy, dark wash jeans. a thin, black belt wraps around his waist, a small camera hanging from his neck, and his hair looks as perfect as yesterday, shiny and smooth under the unobstructed sunlight. thankfully, he hasn’t noticed you, but that doesn’t stop your smile from fading, your heart from hammering within your chest as your brain cruelly replays the events of yesterday afternoon in slow motion. you can’t face him right now. what if he comes up to you? what if he confronts you for your odd behavior in front of this crowd? these are worst case scenarios, sure, but they are potential outcomes nonetheless. as he begins to turn in your direction, you whip around, slipping from under sakura’s arm as you face the two girls. 
“you guys ready to go?” you ask, masking your worry with a tight grin. don’t ask why, don’t ask why, please don’t ask why.
“yeah, sure,” chaewon nods. “i think i’ve had enough of the bean.”
“same,” sakura laughs.
“we could grab lunch, then go to the aquarium and planetarium?” you suggest, one foot beginning to tap against the concrete as you look back and forth between them. are there eyes burning into the back of your head right now? you can’t tell, but the prickling on the back of your neck is not a promising sign. they look at each other, then back to you — a phenomenon that has rapidly become a habit for them — and agree. surging forward, your hands loop around their wrists closest to you, and begin to speed walk away. far away.
“uh, girl? this is the wrong way, we’re going deeper into the park,” sakura notes, heels digging into the concrete to slow you down. she’s right, you know she’s right, but you’re not particularly keen on turning around. 
with a sheepish grin, you say, “maybe we could take a walk through the park first?”
as if on cue, chaewon’s stomach emits an audible growl. 
“nevermind, then.”
turning around, you find the stranger facing your way, and for some reason, he’s already looking at you. his eyebrows raise in recognition the moment you make eye contact. all of a sudden, you wish that you could shrivel up and die. despite this, you rip your gaze from his and push forward, turning to speak to sakura so that you aren’t forced to glance in his direction. mission: avoid the stranger who now haunts your life — success!
goodbye, the bean and the guy who you embarrassed yourself in front of. hello, chicago-style pizza. 
*:・
you’re tired.
you’re tired and slightly more broke and your legs and feet ache to hell after the copious amount of walking you’ve done, but your day still isn’t over. no, despite the setting sun and rising moon, you still have one more activity on your itinerary — clubbing, by request of your newfound friends, though even they claim that they don’t often partake in the activity. similar to them, you’re more inclined to small get-togethers with wine, food from that thai place down the street from your apartment, and a good movie, but hey, this trip is all about experiencing new things. hell, maybe you’ll even enjoy it, who knows? at least, you’re going to try to, but the pain radiating in the soles of your feet and calves has worsened due to your high heels. the dress wrapped around your body is tight and flattering in all the right places, yet the hem rides up every few minutes as you walk. 
“the pessimism isn’t cute. quit it,” you hear jennifer’s voice echo inside your head, yet another phrase she’s uttered to you in the past. fine — on the bright side, you haven’t seen that good-looking stranger since the park. bam, positivity, go you.
sakura’s arm loops around yours as you reach the club that you collectively decided on earlier. her excited squeals at the prospect of alcohol (or, rather, more alcohol, since she pregramed a bit prior to leaving the station) and dancing are enough to bring on a weak headache that spreads across your temples. ibuprofen. you desperately need ibuprofen, but vodka will do just fine too — it’s the first thing you order at the bar, a straight shot with no chaser because at this point, you don’t care. let go, enjoy life, you internalize as you toss the sharp liquor down your throat, fatigue melting away as the alcohol enters your veins. 
cheers, jennifer. you still need to text her back.
one more downed shot later, and chaewon is dragging you to the dance floor. the bass pounds in your ears and vibrates the floor as the three of you sway to the upbeat songs. droplets of sweat begin to bead along your hairline, bodies packed so close together that it’s virtually impossible not to be jostled by a stray elbow or shoulder as you dance. if you were completely sober, it would be uncomfortable, but your hazy senses allow for you to overlook the sardine can that is called a club. it’s easy to lose yourself in the warm, heady air, in the way your hips bump between chaewon’s and sakura’s. inhibitions melt away — you’re free; no expectations weighing you down, nowhere to be, no one to be. only music, flashing lights, and the new, fruity drink in your hand, courtesy of sakura. 
“gonna take a breather!” you yell into chaewon’s ear, the alcohol finally catching up to you. she nods, yells words you can’t make out into sakura’s ear, and both of them begin to follow you out of the crowd. you sip at your drink as you push your way through, ducking under swinging arms and avoiding splashing drinks. the crowd thins as you grow closer to the edge of the dance floor until only scattered groups of friends remain.
“you didn’t have to come with me, y’know,” you say as soon as you reach a slightly quieter part of the club, taking a seat in an empty booth. “i can handle myself.”
“it’s better to stick together. less dangerous,” sakura refutes. some of the glitter that sits above her eyes had drafted down to her cheeks, glinting as a beam of bright light travels over the lower half of her face. “you never know what could happen in a club.”
chewing at the neon pink straw in your drink, you nod, “that’s true.” 
as chaewon and sakura fall into conversation, their words not quite reaching your ears, you silently scan the club. the darkness is cut by wild lasers and spotlights that whirl around and catch on the faces of countless strangers, their pearly, grinning teeth glinting and disappearing back into obscurity in a flash. you continue to nibble at your straw, vision hazy around the edges and an airy sensation in your limbs, as if you could float up to the ceiling. you look up at the multicolored lights, flashes of red and green and blue bombarding your vision, then back down towards the crowd.
and yet again, you find him in your sights. 
suddenly, your vision has a crystal clear clarity to it. button-down shirt wide open to reveal his toned torso, he smoothly moves to the beat with an intoxicated smirk painted on his lips, a small glass of amber liquor in his left hand. dark, outgrown hair, plush lips, those dark, dreamy eyes — that’s him. shit, that’s definitely him. 
“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you murmur, head collapsing into your arms on top of the cool wooden table. sakura jumps in her seat next to you, before scrambling to place a hand on your shoulder.
“are you okay?” she squeals near your ear, tacking on a worried call of your name when you don’t respond right away. honestly? you’re kind of not okay. you’re tired of encountering him at every turn and being reminded of your humiliating escape from him yesterday. you’re tired of him spotting you and sending you odd looks as if you’re the weirdest person he’s ever crossed paths with. you’re tired, you’re tired, you’re just so tired. 
you decided to go on this trip to get away from the mundanity of your day-to-day routine, to get over your spell of artist’s block and see new things, but maybe you bit off more than you can chew if you were going to allow one random person to ruin that goal for you. a random stranger shouldn’t have this much power over you. 
raising your head, you send them a half-hearted nod. “i’m fine. sorry.”
chaewon frowns, “are you about to throw up? ‘cause you look like you are.”
“you look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” sakura chimes in.
sighing, you shake your head. “i think— i think i need to use the bathroom.”
as you move to get up, they do as well — though you decide not to protest this time. there’s no point, really. your legs wobble a bit as you walk, face dropping once you notice that he is near the men’s restroom now, waiting outside right across from where you aim to go. head down, you scurry past him, ignoring how his eyes widen and his knuckles pale as he grips his drink tighter. chaewon and sakura are hot on your heels as you slip into the quiet bathroom. with the music from outside now muffled, you realize your ears are ringing. reaching a sink, you turn on the faucet and splash some water onto your face. hunched over the sink, your fingers grip the edge of the counter. deep breaths, now. deep breaths. this is likely the quickest you have ever sobered up, and the sensation is rendering you dizzy.
behind you, your friends exchange concerned looks through the mirror. sakura jumps into action first, coming up behind you and placing her hands onto your shoulders. with a gentle squeeze, she murmurs, “let’s get you back to the station.”
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day three.
today, the observation car is devoid of life — and so is your body after yesterday. can you overdose by taking too much ibuprofen? you’re pretty sure that you can. 
last night is but a blur in your memory with few spots of clarity, but you do vividly remember panicking in the dimly lit bathroom as the girls fretted over whether you were going to vomit all over the floor or not. you hadn’t slept much once you returned to your room after exchanging drunken hugs with your friends, assuring them that you were, indeed, not going to throw up. after a few hours of restless sleep, you’d completely given up on proper rest — you have never slept all that well with alcohol in your system, so you’re not sure why you thought this time would be any different. 
you take a seat far away from the one you took last time. clad in your pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, you’re grateful that no one else is here to see you at your worst: slightly hungover with dark circles the size of dinner plates. your legs fold up onto the chair so that your knees sit near your chest, your arms looping around your shins, fingers laced together. a deep sigh. a long blink. though the rest of the sky remains an inky black, the horizon morphs into a deep purple, the color of eggplant, almost. perhaps a smidge lighter. 
a door opens, its hinges faintly squeaking, before subsequently clicking shut. figuring it must be someone older, you do not bother with checking who entered; most people your age aren’t up this early, especially not willingly. instead, you keep your eyes trained on the ever-changing sky, chin resting upon your knees.
footsteps near you, and you assume that they will pass, but then they don’t. rather, they stand right in front of you.
“may i sit here?”
you have heard this voice before, just two days ago. unsurprisingly, he stands a mere few feet away, clad in a black tank top and gray sweatpants, a long finger pointed towards a seat. similar to you, small dark circles sit beneath his eyes, but he somehow makes them work. once you nod, one corner of his lips twitches upward before he sits down, a singular seat separating your bodies. his gaze burns the side of your face; your arms wrap around your legs tighter, your unwavering stare pointed out the window. silence envelopes the train car, tense and suffocating. your lungs tighten, prickly thorns sprouting within the thin membranes. your bottom lip may begin to bleed if you keep chewing at it so carelessly.
he breaks it first, shatters it like glass colliding with the floor, with five words:
“i’m really hungover right now.”
your brows furrow. why is he trying to strike up a conversation with you? why do you want to answer him? 
he continues before you can formulate a response, “i saw you at that club last night — you looked a little sick. are you okay?”
“peachy,” you curtly mumble, lips pursing. of course he remembers you; you did pass by him, after all, basically sprinted into the bathroom with the grace of a bull in a china shop. he hasn’t mentioned the park, but you know damn well he remembers that too.
you can sense the frown from his tone, confusion lacing the edges like delicate lace. his question is careful, slowly intonated as if he’s scared of pissing you off. “uh, did i do something wrong?”
you shake your head, not a single glance spared in his direction thus far. he hasn’t. your attitude is a direct result of your own actions, your own rampant anxieties. a pang of guilt punches you in the gut — he does not deserve your bitchiness when he, quite frankly, has done nothing but exist in relative proximity to you. 
“you haven’t,” you reply, voice meek. your eyes trace over the short fibers of the plain carpet below your seat. “i’m just— i’m sorry.”
the low rumble of the train fills the air again, no further words spoken between the two of you. there’s no clear way to explain yourself further, but your apology is sincere; with a brief peek, you find him staring out the window.
“can i ask why you keep running away whenever you see me?” the query lacks an accusatory edge. rather, curiosity and interest cushion his voice. maybe…maybe he doesn’t find you that strange, after all.
and finally, after two days of avoiding his gaze, you swivel your head to face him. you find a tilted head, a single humorous, raised eyebrow. despite yourself, you begin to smile. “honestly?”
“i’d prefer honesty, yes,” he grins.
“i—” you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “i was embarrassed.” a grimace paints your face, dragging your brows down and twisting your lips. “after, y’know…”
“running away the first time?” he supplies.
your mouth flattens into a thin line, a hand moving up to scratch your cheek. “yeah, that.”
laughter reaches your ears, partially nasally. rolling your eyes, your mouth splits into a grin. 
“i get it. i feel like i definitely startled you, so no hard feelings.” he pauses, starry eyes widening in what you believe is realization, “i never got your name.”
easily, you supply it, cheeks flushing with heat when he offhandedly comments that it’s pretty. if he notices your sudden flustered state, he doesn’t comment on it, and despite the warmth now slithering down your neck, you feel yourself relax back into your seat, legs leaving their curled up position to cross at the ankle in front of you. then, he offers his own. yeonjun — at long last, you have put a name to his handsome face. 
out of nowhere, he asks, “have you had breakfast?” 
shaking your head, you gesture to your pajama bottoms. “not yet, i was going to grab some after i changed.”
“i don’t know, i think the plaid pants are pretty fashionable,” he chuckles. you join him. “c’mon, i saw an old guy wearing boxers and a shirt in there yesterday. i’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.”
you giggle, “that’s kinda gross, but alright. let’s go.”
peering out the window again, you find that the sun has just peeked above the horizon, a wash of orange fading into blue, melting together like watercolor. smiling to yourself, you stand and begin to follow yeonjun towards the dining car.
*:・
you and yeonjun had gone your separate ways hours ago, but not without exchanging contact information. since then, he hasn’t stopped texting you, his talent at keeping any conversation going shining in direct contrast to your, well, lack of said talent. however, you do find yourself replying to him with ease — he makes it so easy to do so, mostly due to the fairly unorthodox topics he likes to bring up. currently, you’re talking about the animals that scare you the most. why? because that’s the nature of yeonjun’s conversation skills, you suppose.
another voice message pops up in your chat, about ten seconds long — one of his more obvious quirks. most of his messages are sent in this form, not that you mind. his voice is as pretty as the rest of him. heart-fluttering. okay, stop. you just met this guy. 
(jennifer always does say that you fall too easily. maybe she’s right.)
pressing play, his voice enters your left ear via your single earbud. “no because hear me out: dolphins have fooled you into thinking they’re nice. manipulated you. they literally torture their prey— and they use puffer fishes to get high! i can’t make this shit up. my fear is justified, i swear.”
under your breath, you chuckle, an elbow leaned against the dining table. after a long nap, you had texted the girls to see if they’d like to get dinner with you. of course, they said yes, but you decided to get here a bit early to grab an open table. the car is already packed as it is.
“what’re you laughing at?” unexpectedly, sakura’s head appears over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone. out of habit, you lock it, your reflections staring back at you through the black screen. as she sits next to you, chaewon, takes the seat across from you, elbows placed on the table and her hands supporting her chin. she sends you a knowing smile.
“is that your boyfriend?” she prods. the question causes your mouth to fall open for a moment before you snap it shut. 
“no!” you exclaim. “it’s just a friend.”
“sounds like a boyfriend,” sakura surmises, exchanging a conspiratory nod with the other girl. you release a groan, hands shielding your fiery hot face before you drag them up over your hair. 
“he’s not my boyfriend,” you shoot back. “we just met today.” two days ago, actually. if you can count that.
their mouths open in tandem, shock coloring their features. is this a big deal, or something? you aren’t even dating the guy. 
“you met a guy and didn’t tell us?” sakura grasps your arm with both hands, shaking the limb with a strength that shouldn’t be possible to come from her thin body. “you should’ve told us! we can be your wingwomen!”
“wingwomen?” you echo dumbly as you stare at her. wingwomen, as in, like, jennifer-style wingwomen? as in trying too hard to set you up with someone and ultimately embarrassing you in the end wingwomen? your love for jennifer knows no bounds, but she’s ruined the term for you long ago with her terrible luck. a shudder runs down your spine, and you grin nervously. “i don’t think that’s necessary.”
“of course it is! i’ve always wanted to do that for one of my friends, but they’re all taken already,” chaewon pouts, irresistible puppy dog eyes appearing. “c’mon, please?
“i doubt he’d want to date me, though? we’ve literally only talked once, so really, it’s okay.”
“once is enough,” sakura declares, suddenly tilting her body closer to yours. “tell us, is he cute? what’s his name?”
they’re obviously not going to let this go, and you have no power to really stop them. 
sighing, you officially give up, “yeonjun, and yes, i do.” unfortunately. 
chaewon claps her hands together, an audible smack! echoing from her palms. her smile is blinding, a supernova of pearly white teeth and pink, upturned lips. “perfect! we can work with that.” 
“i already have an idea: ask him to hang out tomorrow,” sakura says, and you send her an incredulous look, glancing at chaewon for a moment to find that she’s excitedly nodding along to the idea like an excitable puppy. her round eyes sure make her resemble one.
you shake your head. “i can’t do that, it’s too forward.”
rolling her eyes, sakura tosses her hands up in the air. “too forward my ass! how do you expect to bag him?”
“i don’t!”
chaewon chimes in, an open hand reaching towards you, “alright, give us your phone. we’ll text him for you.”
“absolutely not!”
ding!
it’s comical, how all three of you pivot your wide-eyed gazes to the phone clenched in your fingers. the flash of yeonjun’s name across the screen is enough to send your table into chaos. 
“open it!”
“what did he say—”
“calm down, oh my god!” you shriek, sending an apologetic look to the couple next to you when they look over. fingers fly over your keyboard until you’ve reached his contact. words, this time, no voice message. butterflies burst into your chest.
yeonjun: do you have anything planned for tmrw? 
after scanning over the message herself, sakura pokes at your shoulder. “tell him you don’t.” 
with a deep, heavy sigh, you do as she says.
[6:37 p.m.]: not yet, why?
“that’s too dry,” chaewon comments.
“shut up, i’m trying,” you hiss. it takes him a few minutes to respond, minutes in which you internally panic. was your text really too dry? in the meantime, you place your dinner order with a kind waiter that stops by, a hearty dish that you can drown your sorrows in the not-so-off chance that this goes terribly, terribly wrong. another ping sounds from your phone’s speakers, and time stops once you read what he sent. clocks stop ticking, you stop breathing, everything around you freezes.
yeonjun: do you wanna grab coffee in the morning then? :)
sakura sends you a sharp look. “i doubt he’d want to date me — are you seeing this right now? or do you need me to spell it out for you? this is a date, babe.”
“it’s not,” you counter weakly. you only (officially) met him today, so, “it’s really not.”
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day four.
contrary to what sakura claimed, this is very much not a date — but you’re happy about it. 
he keeps a respectful distance between your bodies as you walk, you pay for your own coffee, and you pull your own chair out when you go to sit down. it’s simple, it’s friendly, it’s a bit awkward, but there’s some things you have to sacrifice when making new friends. the croissant you’ve decided on is on the drier side, a little too flaky. you nibble on it anyway in a poor attempt to ignore the silence that has fallen between you once again. this is why you try to meet people through other friends; at least in those situations, you have a buffer, someone who knows you and the other person well enough that they can find connections between you without having to dig. you hate digging — you’re the worst at it, hence the stifling quiet that permeates the air now.
the café is quaint, if a bit moody thanks to the lighting. outside the window, the denver street teems with people, and you decide to survey the passing strangers rather than look at the man sitting across from you. wisps of fluffy white clouds float high above, sometimes passing over the sun. you wish you had your supplies with you — this would make for a wonderful painting. 
click!
turning your head, you find yeonjun holding a camera, the lens pointed at…you? you hadn’t noticed it prior, so you are unsure where he got it from. it looks like the same one he had at the park. a bashful smile appears as soon as he places it on the table. “sorry, the lighting was perfect. can’t ever pass up a nice shot.” you study the camera for a moment, and he takes your lack of response as a sign to continue, “once i edit it, i can definitely send you a copy. do you wanna see it?”
a photographer. yeonjun is a photographer. you’re not sure why it’s taken you this long to realize. maybe because you’ve been avoiding him up until now? you think. shaking the thought away, you smile. “i’d love to see it.”
he presses a few buttons, a focused twist to his plush lips, before he’s sliding it over to your side of the table. he’s right: it was a nice shot, and while you don’t often enjoy how you look in photographs, he’s found an angle that highlights your best features as you gaze outside, a slight part to your lips and your eyes wide open, shining. the sheer amount of contrast between the dark café and your warm-lit face scratches an itch in your brain. you can see it now — the golden pigment wetting your brush before being placed on the canvas, being blended into an umber, almost black, but not quite. a splash of umber here, a hint of red there…
“is this your job?” you decide to ask. 
the sheepish expression returns in full force, but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes. he’s proud of his work. “yeah. i’m not, like, famous or anything, but i enjoy it. my mom said that when i was a baby, they put a stethoscope, a gavel, a camera, a microphone, and a test tube in front of me, and i chose the camera, so it was basically meant to be,” he chuckles, but, realizing that you’re staring at him, he pauses for moment. crimson paints the tips of his ears; it’s a color that you’re pretty sure sits in your travel set. “sorry, was that too much?”
“not at all,” you reply softly. “that’s a lovely story, yeonjun.” 
“thanks.” shyly, he bites down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before releasing it. a beat of quiet passes, then he’s asking, “how about you? what do you do for work?”
for some reason, the question looms over your head like a storm cloud. it’s unavoidable and dark and heavy. a bitter taste fills your mouth, different from the aftertaste of your coffee, but you try not to let your sudden drop in mood show. 
“i’m an artist, though i don’t think many people would consider me one nowadays,” you snicker, but the self-deprecating edge to your words is not lost on yeonjun. 
wrinkles form in the space between his brows. “what do you mean?” 
“i…” you trail off. you should tell him. you should rip the bandaid off and quit avoiding facing it for what it is. “i haven’t finished a piece in months. i feel stuck, almost? like nothing is resonating with me, if that makes sense. it’s the whole reason i went on this trip. it’s humiliating, not being able to draw a single thing without hating it— sorry, that’s definitely too much.” 
“no, no, you’re fine,” and he’s sincere in his reassurances. he doesn’t look at you like you’re some sort of failure for how you feel. he doesn’t spew out a hollow apology to absolve him of the weight you’ve transferred to his shoulders, nor does he seem to mind that he’s helping you burden it. his hand reaches over the table, hesitant for a moment, before his fingers curl over yours, his warm skin against yours. you stare at his hand, but you don’t move away from his touch, allowing him to give your hand a delicate squeeze. looking back up, you sit frozen under his gaze. it warms your insides, melts the icy shards solidifying in your lungs that make it hard to breathe. “none of that makes you less of an artist. it’s something every artist goes through — hell, i’ve gone through it, and it’s okay to feel that way. it’s real and it sucks to feel like you can’t accomplish anything, but there’s nothing wrong with it. eventually, it will pass on its own, but until then, it’s not a sin to lean on others for support.”
tears almost, almost prick your eyes. however, you push them down; there’s no way you’re going to cry in public, in front of him. absolutely not. he squeezes your hand one more time, his thumb brushing over yours, before pulling away. “and if no one else will listen, i will.”
“thank you,” you croak out, blinking rapidly, taking a long sip of coffee in order to buy yourself a few precious seconds to cloak your emotions. a calm veil falls over your face soon enough, and while you hate to be the one to change the subject, you feel like you should. “do you want to go on a walk? it’s too nice out to stay in here all day.”
he doesn’t question the sudden change, humming in confirmation as he scoots his chair back. “it really is nice out. do you have any other plans?”
“not really,” you say, pushing the door open. the warm breeze caresses your face. “i’m trying to be spontaneous—”
“y/n!”
sakura and chaewon appear to your left, each carrying a couple bags that look to be stuffed with clothes. you vaguely remember them mentioning going thrifting, but you didn’t know that they’d be in the same part of the city as you. chaewon comes in for a hug, whispering into your ear, “he’s cute.”
glancing up at yeonjun, sakura feigns ignorance, “who’s this?” 
thus, your friends meet the one man you’d rather keep them away from, if only to prevent their wingwomen shenanigans. you have zero clue what they have planned, but you’re sure none of it can be good. 
“we were just on our way to the botanical gardens,” chaewon sings. “if you’d like to join usss.”
wordlessly, you and yeonjun communicate, only raised eyebrows and tilted chins. somehow, you understand exactly what he’s trying to convey. do you want to? do you? i don’t mind if you don’t. alright, let’s do it.
when you do arrive at the gardens, yeonjun’s fingers find your wrist, holding you back for a moment. his free hand gestures to the camera hanging around his neck. “mind being my model for the day?”
you blink. you, his model? “oh, um. i think chae and kkura are a bit more qualified—”
“no way,” he laughs. “i’m the professional here, and i want you. no one else will do.”
i want you — god, those three, simple words send a visceral shiver down your spine. a want, a need, an overwhelming desire for…you’re not even sure, but something all-consuming blooms behind your sternum like a moonflower in the night. with a coy dip of your head, you smile to yourself, allowing the feeling to surge through your veins, consume every fiber of your being.
“alright, mr. professional. lead the way.”
*:・
it’s early in the evening when you return to the station in a giddy haze, arm looped around yeonjun’s. the photo session had been a success; by the end, you were drunk on the compliments he aimed your way, on the way he treated you like glass as he directed you into a specific pose, the fleeting sensation of his fingertips pressing into your skin burned into your memory. 
closing the door to your room, you press your back into it, squeal into your palms like you did when you were sixteen and harboring a silly little crush. because that’s all it is right now, really: a foolish crush on a man that you probably won’t see again after this trip. you can fantasize all you want, but in the end, that’s what it is. those invading negative thoughts get drowned out by the movie playing behind your eyelids — a replay of the day. you swear you can feel every touch of his skin against yours, every ray of sunshine that kissed your skin and gifted you its warmth. scurrying over to your bag, you locate your supplies. 
and you begin to paint. 
a flurry of lilacs, a blurry figure among them all, defined only by a flowing white button up and brown, wide leg trousers, black streaks of hair and nothing more. yellow daffodils and vibrant emerald sweetgrass take shape, a cerulean sky, fluffy clouds. it’s messy and you kind of hate it, but it’s something. something is on the canvas, it’s dynamic, it has character.
“okay,” you mumble, staring at the brushstrokes, going over them again and again. “okay.”
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day five.
“can i draw you?” 
a spur of the moment question, borne from the golden sunset gracing his cheeks, highlighting strands of his hair. the day has passed quietly today, mostly spent in your room sketching to your heart’s content. though mostly inconsequential doodles paired with terribly cheesy words of prose that even your most romantic friends would scrunch their noses at, these exercises in creating without a specific goal in mind seem to be helping. a part of that gray fog over your world has been wafted away by an invisible hand, and everything is a bit more vibrant, closer to its true hue; while nothing about your creations are particularly special or groundbreaking, going on this trip is now beginning to prove its worth. 
yeonjun’s head tilts, and you shrug. “what? i need practice.”
“okay, as long as you promise to show me afterward,” he challenges, and you immediately shake your head. 
“i’m only going to show it to you if it turns out well,” you decide. you think back to the painting sitting in your room, still a bit wet, the paint overworked to hell. that one is staying a secret. it’s not good enough to be known by anyone else — and certainly not by him.
“then no deal.” when you give him a pleading look, he raises his hands. “i show you my pictures, you show me what’s going on in that sketchbook, it’s only fair.”
“fine,” you hiss, fishing your sketchbook from your bag. “get comfortable, and don’t even think about moving.”
“harsh.”
with a suppressed grin, you take in the planes of his face. he’s shifted to face you, intent eyes trained on you, which makes your job harder. gulping, you raise an arm, mapping out his proportions with a thumb. the process of pressing intentional marks into the page is a slow one, exacerbated by his unwavering stare. you have to look out at the mountains every once in a while to allow oxygen back into your lungs, and even then, the action proves difficult. graphite scratching paper is backed by the low murmur of other passengers in the observation car as you work, capturing the fading light that casts shadows across his face. however, your creative juices quickly run out, likely sapped by your painting escapade that extended far into the night. the shape of his eyes isn’t quite right, and no matter how much you erase and try again, there’s always a slight detail off about it. too narrow, too round, too—
the tip of the pencil snaps, the point rolling across the page and falling onto the floor. you curse under your breath. 
“is it done?” yeonjun asks, leaning forward. his hands gently take your sketchbook from your lap before you can protest, and you watch as his expression shifts from neutral to slack-jawed. 
“that’s…you’re…wow,” he starts, then never finishes. he still hasn’t torn his wide eyes away from the page, flitting around as he drinks in every miniscule detail, while you pinpoint every single thing wrong with the drawing.
“it’s bad,” you deadpan. “give it back, i need to fix it.”
he frowns. you seem to make him do that a lot. “there’s nothing to fix.”
“there’s everything to fix.”
“it’s literally a carbon copy of me,” he counters. “you’re crazy.”
“says the one who can’t see the shape of his eyes right now. the lash line isn’t straight enough at the top, the nose isn’t quite right, the hair lacks form. it’s terrible.”
for the first time since you met him, yeonjun is annoyed. eyes narrowed and dark, he locks his gaze into yours, throws away the key. you can’t move while he tosses the worn sketchbook back into your lap, a hand running through his hair, locks raising with his fingers and flopping back down into his face.
“i know what it’s like to be your own worst critic,” he says, voice soft like a lullaby, standing in direct contrast to his firm expression. “but it’s one thing to be critical of your art, and another to resent it. you’re a wonderful artist, y/n. talented isn’t enough to describe you, but negativity is going to get you nowhere. it holds you back.”
he’s right — you loathe that he is, and you more so hate how he sounds just like jennifer. your nails skirts the fraying edge of the leather cover in your laps, picking at it like you would with skin, peeling cracked flakes off to reveal a soft underbelly of lighter-colored suede. wine red versus warm tan. you feel like you’re being admonished, a child who’s misbehaved. you feel small, but at the same time, you need to hear it. you’ve been coddled enough. 
“i used to hate my stuff too, y’know. never thought it was ever that special, but that’s what made me underestimate myself. that’s what made me settle for less, that’s what made me lock my camera away in my closet for the longest time until i felt i was ‘ready’ to use it — but who was i to say i was ready? how do you know when you are? honestly, you don’t. you won’t ever know. all you can do is create and create and hope that you eventually make something that you’re proud of. until then, you keep trying, you figure out what’s working, what isn’t, and go from there. in the end, everything you create is a reflection of you, and that’s the beautiful thing about art. it bares your soul, it strips you down to the rawest parts of yourself that you may despise right now — but it’s still you. and don’t you think you deserve to give yourself some grace?”
his words strike a place deep within you, an ache beginning in the center of your chest and snaking out like the roots of a tree into your stomach and throat. you do deserve some grace, don’t you? you don’t spew venomous words towards your friends or strangers every day, yet you do it to yourself without a second thought. why? you bring yourself and your skills down any chance that you get. why? your art is merely an extension of yourself — is this how you forever want to feel whenever you are drawing? whenever you’re sculpting a piece? no, not at all. your head raises. 
“have you ever thought about becoming a public speaker?”
he lets out an incredulous scoff, but there’s still an inkling of teasing in his tone, “is that all you got from my mini speech? i thought it was amazing. life-changing, even.”
“no,” you deny with a tight-chested laugh. “but there’s not much more to add. you’ve said it all for me.”
the passing mountains are purple now, the greenery a muted magenta. in this moment, you decide the yeonjun is an enigma; untouchable, unreachable — standing too close to his bright, technicolor world would burn your muted one to the ground. if you are icarus, then he is the sun sending you plummeting down into oblivion.
but you want to touch him, you want to burn.
you want to feel alive again.
“let me draw you again,” and maybe it won’t be your best. maybe the slope of his chin will be crooked, maybe the intrinsic sparkle in his eyes won’t be quite right, but there’s a conviction present in your tone that causes him to smile.
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day six.
“are you really trying to have a dick measuring contest with the seals right now?”
san francisco’s iconic pier 39 is abustle with tourists, but you and yeonjun are currently at the very back of the pier, where seals soak in the sun on little wooden docks constructed just for them. at the moment, yeonjun is trying to out-seal the seals with loud barks and hoots, mimicking their distinctive sounds. yeonjun is still making noises, people are starting to stare, and you are beginning to want to climb over the wooden fence and jump straight into the ocean. 
“yeonjun, please stop,” you plead, hands gripping the sleeve of his t-shirt, yet he doesn’t stop, honking back at the seals once they respond. you tug a bit harder. “c’mon, people are staring. the seals don’t care how loud you are, you’re not proving anything.”
“i’m proving a lot of things right now, actually,” he quips before he’s going back to making noises that are unbecoming of a human being. this feels like a cruel form of exposure therapy.
you try pulling at his sleeve again. “c’mon, yeonjun.” and again. “yeonjun!”
“okay, okay, i’ll stop,” he cackles, turning to face you. he’s close — too close to be considered platonic. his hands could come up and hold your waist right now, pull you closer into his chest. it causes you to take a step back, and it’s as if he can sense the heat radiating from your cheeks, leaning down towards you with a smirk. “you embarrassed?”
“of course i’m embarrassed,” you hiss. “how are you not?”
shaking his head, his grin grows impossibly wider. “if i buy you lunch, will you forgive me?” 
pretending to think, you look off to the side, then back to him. of course you will. “maybe.”
“i’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs as he falls into step next to you. the air is much cooler here than at your other stops, a gray blanket of fog rolling in on the horizon that cuts into the clear blue sky. he sends you a hopeful look as he asks, “y’feeling clam chowder?”
with a tiny shrug, you confess that you’ve never had it before. with a dramatic hand placed against his chest, he gasps, “you live in the northeast, and you’ve never tried it? that has to be some sort of crime.”
chowder hut is his restaurant of choice, a circular, well, hut that sits by its lonesome across from the infamous pier. it’s a place he used to go when he lived in san jose and took day trips here with his cousins, he claims. the restaurant holds a lot of fond memories for him, this whole city does. you wonder what those memories entail.
“i got you a small one in case you don’t like it,” yeonjun says as soon as he returns with your food. a tray is placed in front of you: a round sourdough loaf carved into to create a bowl, filled with cream-colored, steaming-hot chowder thick with chunks of potatoes, pieces of bacon, and, of course, clams. digging a spoon in, you take your first bite — clean, briny, slightly sweet, bursting across your taste buds like tiny little firecrackers. your eyes widen at the taste, buzzing in delight against the spoon poised to your lips. he grins. “it’s good, right?” 
you hum in agreement, swallowing another spoonful. you’re crazy for never having tried this before. twenty-four years of living, and you had no idea what you were missing out on. you’ve missed out on a long of things, it seems, but you’re beginning to catch up on them with the help of yeonjun — as well as sakura and chaewon, of course. you could never forget about them.
“you’re forever going to be connected to clam chowder in my mind now, i hope you know that,” you say, tearing into the walls of the bread bowl. the remnants of the salty chowder have soaked into the bowl, mixing perfectly with the tanginess of the bread. yeah, you wouldn’t forget this in a million years; it’s too delicious to forget. 
“you do that too?” he asks. you send him a questioning glance. “like, connect people to food.”
“yeah, i guess i do,” you ponder. “my mom reminds me of this one dish she always made me as a kid. my best friend reminds me of wine, since that’s what we drank when we first met. it’s also her favorite. and now you…remind me of clam chowder.”
he chuckles, “great, i’ll always be the clam chowder guy to you.”
you giggle back. “it’s not a bad title to hold. you could be, i don’t know, the terrible clam chowder guy.”
“fair enough. i’ll take it,” he declares before he shoves the last piece of his bread bowl into his mouth. his cheeks puff out, similar to a chipmunk, and you resist the urge to chuckle at the image in your head. “now that i think about it, i don’t do it with just people — a lot of my fondest memories are connected to food, too. something human about it, y’know? food is its own form of love. or, at least, i think it is.”
“no, i completely agree. there’s something special about sharing food with others — it’s kinda intimate, i guess? especially if you’re cooking for someone, those are some of the most vivid memories for me.” 
nodding along with you, he’s leaning forward, elbows resting against the table. the corners of his lips quirk up. “you get it. the intimacy of it, i mean. my mom has always said that food is the best way to a person’s heart — food brings people together. it’s amazing.”
“yeah,” you beam. “it really is.”
for a moment, conversation ceases, the two of you smiling at each other, leaning forward over the table. your mouth opens to speak, but a loud caw draws your attention away from his hypnotizing eyes. you watch a seagull swoop in to harass a man that sits two tables over, his glasses skewed on his face as he tries to keep the bird from stealing his food. arms wave everywhere while the seagull screeches at him, flapping its wings on top of the man’s head. after a brief second of shock, the sight has you nearly doubling over with laughter, unflattering shrieks sounding from your throat. it takes a minute for your giggles to subside. while you wipe a tear from your lash line, you look back at him — and freeze.
he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, chin supported by his palm. his mouth curves into something serene and fond, hooded eyes scanning your face as you stare back. you’re no longer smiling, mouth parted as you wait for him to say something, anything. he doesn’t, so you move to break the intense air brewing between you.
“is…is something wrong?” with a flinch, his eyes blink rapidly for a second, coming back into focus. he sits up straighter, leaning into the back of his chair.
“i just— nevermind. sorry, spaced out there for a second,” his chin dips towards his chest before rising again, the tips of his ears flushing cherry. he looks nervous, almost. “um, if you’re up for it later, we could grab dinner at this korean restaurant i used to go to? it reminds me a lot of my parents. i think you’d like it.” 
while you’d rather ask where his head is at right now, what he was going to say before he stopped himself so abruptly, you say, “i’d love that.”
*:・
he was right, you do like it. 
the restaurant is cozy, a little hole-in-the-wall in the heart of the city where less tourists roam. the food is delicious, flavorful meats and fluffy rice and various veggie side dishes that you can’t stop eating. as he snaps some photos of the place, he tells you the decor reminds him of restaurants in seoul, of the mom-and-pop shops he’d frequent there. that at some point or other, some of the owners would start recognizing him when he came in and gave him extra food free of charge. 
“so you lived there for a while? in korea?” you ask as you watch him some meat for the two of you to share. the action is second nature to him, each piece staying on the grill for the same amount of time, flipped only once. you bring a piece to your mouth — it’s perfectly cooked.
“i was born there, in a town near seoul,” he says through a mouthful of rice. “moved around a bit, but i lived in seoul for most of it ‘til i was eighteen. then i moved to new york for college, but dropped out after two semesters to pursue photography. it’s been six years since i moved to the states.”
“you said you lived in san jose for a while earlier.” you tilt your head at him. “when was that?”
“ah,” he starts. “i studied abroad when i was in elementary school and stayed with some family there— do you want some more meat? i can order more.”
your meat supply has dwindled down to two pieces. there’s still room in your stomach, so you nod. “sure.”
he calls over the sole server on shift, speaking to him rapidly in his native tongue. the server glances over at you for a brief second before focusing back on yeonjun. out of their entire conversation, you recognize one word: friend. it’s a term that jennifer taught you a while ago, one that has stuck with you because she now likes to jokingly call you that every now and then. an inside joke between the two of you.
when the server leaves, yeonjun is left a flustered mess. your eyebrows raise. “why’s your face so red? what’d he say?”
“nothing! it’s just from the kimchi! it’s really spicy here,” he quickly claims before he’s gulping down half a glass of water. you, quite frankly, don’t buy it for a second, but choose not to pry. 
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day seven.
of course, at least one thing has to go wrong on a trip like this. mechanical problems with the train has rendered everyone stuck in the golden city until tomorrow morning, at which another train will take over the rest of the trip. the station is across the bay, so amtrak has given every passenger a voucher to pay for a night’s stay at various hotels across the city — customer’s choice, no less. to be safe, you choose the one closest to the bar chaewon and sakura want to check out tonight. once you told yeonjun where you decided to stay, he used his voucher there as well. he wants to stay near you, he says, to make it easy to find each other.
today, the girls join you and yeonjun at pier 39. they partake in bread bowls, they watch yeonjun embarrass himself at the seal docks, they send you knowing looks when he pays for your food. when yeonjun finds a street performer with a dance mat and wastes no time in starting a battle against the guy, they tell you that he’s trying to impress you.
“he’s not,” you whisper to them. “that’s just how he is. i promise.”
night begins to fall, and they suggest going to a bar for dinner, more for the drinks and not the food. you accept, and in turn, so does yeonjun — though you immediately regret not thinking the decision through more. the bar is dangerous. not in an external hazard sense, but in more of a you’re scared of getting drunk and vomiting your blossoming feelings onto his shoes type of sense. you keep your drinking to a minimum, still on your first drink an hour in. next to you, however, yeonjun is starting to collapse in on himself, hunched over the counter of the bar as his third drink kicks in. a giggle bubbles up from your throat. you never pegged him to be a lightweight. 
“let’s get you some water,” you gently suggest, a comforting hand on his shoulder. waving the bartender over, you ask for a glass, helping him sit up and take a sip. his chin falls onto your shoulder this time, eyes hazy as he looks up at you with a dopey smile. 
“you’re really pretty, did y‘know that?” he slurs, leaning further into you as an arm wraps around your waist. his barstool screeches across the floor, shifting closer to yours. you freeze as shock fills your veins, nerve endings beneath his touch on fire. he pokes your warm cheek. “s’pretty.”
you blink. hard. “yeonjun, you’re drunk—”
“no ‘m not. ’m perfectly— ‘m perfectly fine,” the words stumble out of his pouty lips drenched in fatigue, his tone whiny and petulant, as he turns in his seat to wrap his other arm around your waist, forehead now sagging against your shoulder. your body stiffens up, tense muscles frozen in place as he continues his delirious ramblings. 
“i need to go to the bathroom!” you all of sudden exclaim, attempting to pry his arms off of you. he only squeezes you tighter, whining how you can’t leave here alone. you sigh, patting his hair, “you could wait outside?”
he accepts the offer, but doesn’t remove his arm from your waist as both of you stand. despite his almost six foot tall frame, you are forced to support him as he stumbles along towards the bathrooms and pray that you don’t twist an ankle in the process. when you reach the women’s bathroom, he still doesn’t let go. 
“nooo, don’t leave meeee,” he whines, pulling you back into his chest while your hand grips the door handle. calling his name, you slip your hands beneath his and grab them to pull them off of you.
“i’ll be right back, i promise,” you say once you situate him against the wall, his shoulder hunched and his head hanging down towards his chest. you give him a worried pat on his head before disappearing into the bathroom. in reality, you do not have to go. instead, you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your blown out eyes, feeling a scorching heat encase your face and spread down towards your chest. he’s drunk, you remind yourself. he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 
you wash your hands once. twice. three times, allowing the cool water to run over your heated skin. you splash some on the back of your neck. calm down. calm the fuck down. 
you are, indeed, not able to calm the fuck down before a flurry of knocks reverbates against the door. yeonjun’s voice follows soon after, asking if he can come in, if you’re okay. “why have you been gone for so longggg? i miss you!”
“no! don’t come in!” you yell, glad that all of the stalls are vacant. making your way back over to the exit, you wrench open the door and find him standing there, fist raised in the air as if he was going to knock again. 
he blinks once. then, an impossibly wide grin splits his face. “you’re back!”
stepping forward, you allow the door to swing shut behind you. arms wrap around you once again, but this time, you stumble backwards into the wall. when you look up, his face is just above yours. 
oh.
oh, fuck. 
this feels like a repeat of day one all over again, you trapped under his gaze, but this lacks the distance of that day. the unfamiliarity with each other. his hands haven’t left your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh over your thin dress, while the wall presses into your back. you have nowhere to go, but maybe you’re more drunk than you initially thought, because his lips look very inviting right now. you watch his eyes trail down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. his eyelids hood his dark, hazy pupils. the muscles in his neck contract, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leans closer, an electric attraction between your lips. you tilt your head, eye fluttering shut, moving closer, closer…
“y/n! there you are!” 
yeonjun jumps away from you as chaewon rushes up to you. her hands find your shoulders as she cries, “kkura twisted her ankle really bad! can you help me?”
you turn your head towards yeonjun, then back to chaewon, whose wide, rounded eyes plead you to come with her. “okay,” you say softly. “let’s go.”
yeonjun follows close behind, and all you can think of is what would have happened if chaewon didn’t show up. sakura’s ankle ends up being fine, and getting her back to her hotel room isn’t too difficult given the close proximity of the hotel. 
*:・
four days. four days you have known yeonjun, but it feels like it’s been years since you met each other. that fact strikes fear into your heart, remembering that the last time that this fast burn of feelings in your heart occurred, you ended up a brokenhearted mess for months. if yeonjun is the sun, his overwhelming heat melting you down into a puddle, then beomgyu was a black hole, all-consuming and ripping pieces of you away when he abruptly up and left. you’re unsure if you can go through that again, but at the same time, yeonjun doesn’t give off the impression of a drifter who wouldn’t tell you he’s leaving until after the fact. he’s a constant, a steady fortress. reliable, enduring. 
“good night,” yeonjun murmurs, both of you standing in front of your door. 
“good night,” you parrot back, rocking back on your heels, but you don’t really want him to go. knowing that isn’t realistic, you settle for opening your arms up towards him. for the first time, he hugs you good night, his lithe arms wrapping around your waist while he presses a drunken kiss into the crown of your head, and a feeling of being home washes over you. 
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day eight.
he sits closer to you now. no longer is there a gap that separates your bodies, a full chair between the two of you. now, he sits right next to you, thigh brushing against your own. his hand sometimes finds your knee, never too high on your leg, never uncomfortable. just…there, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. neither of you mention what transpired between you last night, his affectionate words, the mere centimeters that separated your lips before chaewon interrupted. nevertheless, an unspoken barrier between you has broken, its bricks torn down by the hands of intoxication — due to alcohol, but also because of each other.
the almost-kiss replays in your mind in a constant loop; the woody citrus of his cologne is still strong in your nose, the warmth radiating from his flushed cheeks a phantom against your skin. you want to talk about it. you want to rip open the memory like a pomegranate for the two of you to share, but you don’t. you don’t know what you would do if you ruined…whatever this is that you and him have going on. he’s become a sort of constant in your life that you don’t think you can live without. you like him; you can admit it now. what you feel is not just a mere attraction anymore, an artistic appreciation for his unique features. he brings out a brighter part of you, a part that has been buried deep into your soul over the years, beneath layers of grime and dirt and negative experiences that you won’t let go of. the gray film over your eyes has been wiped clean by him, him and his beautiful heart he so easily bares to others. his heart that is so full of love — love for being alive, love for others — you wonder if any of that love could ever be for you one day.
he watches you sketch, you let him snap photos of you doing so. you share a small bag of chips, greasy fingers brushing against each other during those times in which you both reach in tandem. for hours, you sit together in a silence that is no longer awkward, but soft and tender. shoulder against shoulder, skin against skin. words aren’t required, your actions speaking for themselves. you bask in it all.
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day nine.
the space needle isn’t that impressive.
you’re sure it’s a much better experience when you’re at the top, but yeonjun shares a fear of heights with you, so there’s no way in hell either of you are going up there. instead, you stand beneath it, amongst an ever-moving sea of seattleites and tourists, and wait for chaewon and sakura to come back down from the tall building. 
at the beginning of this trip, you’d allow for a few feet of space between your bodies, but slowly, it’s diminished to a scant few inches. you don’t really register this gradual change, as natural as it was. every once in a while, his pinky brushes against yours. neither you nor yeonjun move to do anything about it, either by pulling away or linking them together — a state of limbo that is befitting for a pair of strangers falling for each other. to make the dive into the unknown or to stay on the surface where it’s safe, that is the question.
“how much longer do you think they’ll be?” you ask, staring up at the pointed top of the tower. the sky is gray today, a bit chilly, but it’s an expected sight in washington during this time of year. “i’m getting hungry.”
yeonjun huffs a laugh, lightly elbowing your bicep. “maybe we could grab something real quick. i saw this taco truck nearby—”
“y/n? is that you?”
you’d recognize that deep timbre anywhere. the man that dropped your heart on the floor and vanished from the earth before he could watch the aftermath, the man that you never wished to see ever again.
turning around, you find beomgyu.
your phone slips from your hand, clattering against the concrete — but you can’t bring yourself to check if the screen has shattered. instead, yeonjun grabs it for you, rising with it as he anxiously asks if you’re okay. you don’t answer, too busy staring at the man now standing before you. he’s changed; his shorter hair has grown out past his ears, dyed a warm brown, though his black roots are apparent; soft pastel pullovers and light jeans have been swapped out for black slacks and a dark brown leather jacket, clothing choices more mature than when you last saw him. why is he here? you thought he lived in san francisco — you would’ve been less shocked to run into him there, but in seattle? 
“i moved here a few months ago.” shit, did you say that out loud? “i could ask you the same thing.”
“i’m on a trip,” you quickly answer, no further explanation leaving your mouth. 
he nods nonchalantly. you think you see his eyes flit to yeonjun for a second. “cool, cool.” 
“yeah.” why won’t he walk away already? your feet are glued to the cement, jaw tense as you try not to cry. the memory of him texting you that he had left the city and things between you won’t work out come rushing back. why now? how can he show his face to you after all he’s done?
he nods again. “are you here for long?”
“just— just for today.”
“well, i’d love to catch up with you before you leave. i’ve missed you a lot. maybe we could grab dinner tonight?” his smile is soft, hopeful — manipulative, in a way.
“i’m actually pretty busy today,” you begin, but of course, you have no idea how to tell him no. “but maybe if i’m free later.”
“great!” he exclaims, hands now in his trouser pockets. he looks over at yeonjun again, the upward curve of his lips flattening. “i need to get going, but i’ll text you later. you still have my number, right?”
“i think so.”
“cool.” his smile grows excited. “see you later, then.” beomgyu turns to walk away with a confidence in his strut that he didn't have when he lived in new york. when he was dating you. how shameless can he be? soon enough, he disappears into the crowd. blinking, you wonder if that really just happened, turning back toward yeonjun. his jaw is set, eyes still staring at the point where beomgyu vanished. the gray clouds feel suffocating now. the cool air constricts your lungs. you want the cement to open up and swallow you when his hardened eyes turn to you.
“who was that?” yeonjun asks, tone casual, but there’s a…jealous? edge to his question. you’re looking into things too much — there’s no way he’s jealous right now. 
“...my ex,” and it hurts you to admit it. his eyes darken as he utters a soft “oh.” you sigh, “yeah.”
he won’t look at you anymore. why won’t he? you didn’t do anything wrong. you had no control over beomgyu showing up. he purses his lips. “are you gonna meet up with him?”
your head shakes on its own, words escaping before you can think about them. “i don’t know, yeonjun.” 
“okay.” biting his lip, he turns so that he faces the space needle again, stepping away from you. you feel like strangers again, an ocean of distance between you bodies. “yeah, okay.”
*:・
you don’t meet up with beomgyu.
meanwhile, yeonjun is nowhere to be found. after the beomgyu incident, the two of you waited in tense silence for your other friends to return. he then made up some lame excuse to leave, and didn’t turn back when you called his name. you haven’t seen him for the rest of the day, even when you return to the train. he won’t respond to your texts. eventually, you stop sending them; he obviously needs space for whatever reason, so you will give him it. 
the terrible, painful thought of ruining everything you had with him sits in the forefront of your mind, taunting you. the girls try to distract you, showing you silly tiktoks and youtube videos and the like, but you simply offer them a half-hearted huff each time. once you explain what transpired while they were gone, however, their tune changes a bit. 
“y/n, i’m going to be very honest, and i need you not to take it personally,” sakura replies. though your head lays on top of your folded arms, you signal that you are listening with a bob of your head. she continues, “your response wasn’t the best. it probably confused him, and now he doesn’t know if you’re still hung up on this guy or not. if one of his exes came up to him while with you, and he told you he didn’t know if he was going to meet up with them later or not, how would you feel?”
“shitty,” you mumble into your forearm. 
“exactly. so give him space for now, and when he reaches out, explain and apologize. you owe him that much.” sakura sounds just like jennifer — they’d definitely get along. 
“i know. i will.”
the waiter comes around with water, and you order a strong cocktail to go along with your dinner.
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day ten.
“has he texted you back yet?” sakura asks for the thousandth time today.
when you shoot her a defeated glare, she gets her answer. no, of course he hasn’t. he hasn’t responded to you since he left. “you said to give him space.”
“yeah, but i didn’t know he’d fall off the face of the earth,” she shoots back. sighing, you tip your head back against the wall next to her bed. a lake passes outside, surrounded by tall grass and trees. small hills rise behind the blue expanse, but you don’t feel the same urge to grab your sketchbook and translate the view onto the page anymore. it’s funny, how easily one person can affect your mood, turn everything upside down with the mere lack of his presence in your life. 
“he just needs time.” chaewon opens a can of soda with a pop! and takes a sip. “maybe it affected him more than we realize.”
“‘cause that makes me feel sooo much better.” sarcasm drips from your voice. “i’m such a fucking idiot.”
there’s a half-day stop in glacier national park tomorrow. will you see him, or is he going to avoid you for the rest of this trip? will you ever see him again? the emotions that swirl within you are reminiscent of how you felt before you met him. that grayness. that sinking sensation festering in your chest that claws it’s way down into your stomach and shreds it apart. you said that you wanted to burn, you wanted it to hurt, but this feels all too fast. too much.
sakura makes a noise in disagreement. “no, it shows that he cares about you. you just have to make sure you clear things up with him, and tell him that you like—”
“if you’re going to tell me that i need to confess my feelings to him, i really don’t think i can do that.”
“why?” chaewon prods. “what’s stopping you? he obviously likes you too.”
beomgyu. beomgyu is the fucking reason why. you can’t bare your heart to someone again, lest you get hurt all over again. after all that has happened, if yeonjun doesn’t reciprocate, it will confirm your worst fears — that you aren’t built to receive love, no matter how hard you try to mold yourself into a person that is deserving. dread churns in your stomach, rises into your throat like bile, acidic and fervid, as thoughts of worst case scenarios where you pour your heart only to hear “sorry, i don’t feel the same way.” you can’t do it. you can’t allow yourself to spiral again. however, you don’t divulge your reasons for holding back, remaining silent as you trace the patterns on the ceiling. 
after a deep, shuddering sigh, you give them a three word explanation: “i don’t know.”
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day eleven.
stepping off of the train into fresh air sharpens your dulled senses. the national park is beautiful, for lack of better words; thickets of trees spreading out in all directions as far as the see. the sun is rising over the mountains that stretch high above your head — you’re starting to enjoy this view more than the lifeless skyscrapers that await you back home. the train station looks more like a little lodge than an actual station, but you appreciate its quaint character. reddish-brown wood makes up the majority of the small-scale building. it looks like a place where people would spend the night in, with a warm, cozy fireplace in the wintertime, and wide open windows in the summer to allow the refreshing breeze to waft in.
meandering down the path behind the station into a field of tall grass littered with bunches of tiny, white flowers, you begin to reflect on everything that has happened on this trip. originally, you went on this stupid trip with the goal to find inspiration, and last night you had a very important realization: yeonjun is that something — you started drawing again because of him, you started looking on the bright side of things because of him, and most important of all, you fell for him. you didn’t just fall for him in the way an artist falls for their muse, no. you fell for him as a person. getting to know him has been one of the best parts of your trip, but now all of that has gone down the drain because yeonjun hasn’t responded to you in over twenty-four hours and you have not a clue what to do to try to make things right. if he doesn’t wish to speak to you, then that’s that. it’s over. whatever momentum this fleeting relationship had has been effectively pummeled into the dust that would blow away with even the gentlest of breezes. 
you wish you could appreciate this view more. your paints sit in your backpack back in your room, out of sight so that you don’t have to think about them, nor hear their pleas to be used. although you now know why you lack the drive to paint and draw and generally create once again, no clear-cut solution to your problem comes to mind. instead, you wander through the grass towards a large, squatty boulder, climb on top of it, and plop down. your knees curl up towards your chest while your arms wrap around them, fingers tracing random patterns against your shins. fatigue solidifies in your bones, but the tranquility of the early morning the quiet tucks a blanket of peace over your body, swaddling the edges around you, cocooning you in.
you sit there, taking in the sounds and sights of nature, for hours. the chirping of birds sings a melody over the whisper of trees in the breeze. a deer leaps across the open field, disappearing into the trees, her fawn following close behind. bighorn sheep graze in the distance, their circular horns reminding you of cornucopias. 
the rustle of trees and grass obscure the sound of approaching footsteps from your ears. it’s not until yeonjun begins to climb onto the boulder that you notice him. you hug your legs tighter to your body as he sits next to you, but not too close. an invisible wall separates you. he does not look remotely near your direction, his focus far out in the trees. staring at him, you wonder what to say. i’m sorry? i have feelings for you?
“i never met up with him.”
he still doesn’t spare you a glance. assuming he wants you to continue, you do. “i don’t know why i said what i said, but it was shitty of me to put you in that position, and i wanted to say that i’m sorry. i was just shocked, i guess. to see him. he ruined my perception of a lot of things, jjun.” jjun. that’s a new one. you are quite unsure where it came from, it slipped out before you could think. no matter, he’s looking at you now, and it’s your turn to look out towards the horizon. “trust, commitment, love…”
his gaze burns into your temple. you take a deep breath, fingers clenching the fabric of your jeans. “they’ve all been ruined for me. it’s hard for me to trust anyone after what he did. i’m terrified that the people i grow close to will wake up one day and leave me without a word. i’m scared that i’ll never get the closure i deserve when they do. worst of all, i’ve stopped believing that love is in the cards for me, like there has to be something wrong with me for him to have left me like that—”
“don’t. don’t you dare say that about yourself.” whipping your head around, you finally meet eyes for the first time in nearly two days. they aren't soft like they usually are when they look at you, but hardened, guarded. “there’s nothing wrong with you. you have every right to be hurt, and he’s honestly a piece of shit for doing that to you, but it’s unfair to assume that everyone that comes after him will be just like him.”
“i know, and i’m sorry. i know you’re not like him.” he doesn’t respond, and you begin to chew at the inside of your cheek. you watch an ant crawl its way across the rock beneath you. the small insect disappears over the edge. 
silence. you begin to count the seconds. one, two, three, four—
“i’m sorry for not texting you back. i just needed time to think about things. a lot of things,” he starts. “i felt weird, for some reason. didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”
you offer him a tight-lipped smile. “no, i understand. i forgive you.”
important words remain unspoken, but both of you refuse to address them. instead, his hand finds yours, he links your fingers with his, and both of you peacefully watch the sheep graze across the field.
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day twelve.
not everything is fixed yet. 
despite being on speaking terms again, strain pulls your relationship taut. the unspoken words from yesterday hang heavy in the air, but you can’t bring yourself to give them a voice. you want to. your voice won’t work every time you try.
sitting next to yeonjun on his bed, you scroll through various forms of social media, bookmarking work that you find particularly interesting in between catching up on your friends’ posts. jennifer has been thoroughly caught up on what’s been going on after a long overdue apology for not responding to her texts. she understood, of course she did. she’s known you long enough to know how you can shut down whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. 
“i’m proud of you for telling him. i know it’s hard for you to share, honey,” she cooed to you over the phone last night. “but you need to tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”
you know that. you know damn well that once you get off this train, it may all fall apart, a budding romance distinguished by reality. there’s no security, no safety net for you to fall into if you take the leap, and while he showed you an inkling of how he felt yesterday, who’s to say he’ll feel that way tomorrow? the next day? are you willing to tear your heart open for him to consume if there’s still a chance of him throwing it away when all is said and done? 
you don’t know the answer to that question. honestly, you don’t know the answer to a lot of those questions, stuck in this state of self-imposed purgatory. to rise or fall, what is the best choice? you don’t fucking know.
“is that yours?” he asks from over your shoulder, at a ceramic piece in your feed made by one of jennifer’s acquaintances. his breath snakes warmly over the expanse of your neck due to his proximity, his head so close you could turn and just kiss him— 
stop it. 
“oh, no. um.” you shift away from him slightly. distance. some distance feels more comfortable right now. “i don’t sculpt. i just paint, and draw.”
he makes an ahhh of understanding, leaning back onto his palms, the mattress sinking down with his weight. he’s staring at you like he expects something from you. what shall you give him? when you don’t say anything further, he does. 
“can i see some of yours, then?” it’s an innocent enough request. rather than simply press on your account, your fingers move on their own until you reach your gallery. why? are you really about to bare your soul to him? you guess so, because he’s gently taking your phone from your fingers after gaining quiet permission from you. 
he asks you questions as he pulls up certain pieces. the thought process behind each one, what made you do this, place that color there, how you came up with the composition, what the meaning of it all is. you try your best to explain each one. sometimes, your choices were the product of spontaneity. you thought yellow would look nice at that spot, so you put some there. her nose is crooked because it gives the piece more character. the color of the drapes in the background are blue for no particular reason other than the fact that your reference photo had blue drapes. you continue in a cycle of question, answer, question, answer, and some of your answers are more emotional than others. you remember where you were, both physically and mentally, when making all of these. you remember the ones you made when you were having a bad day, the ones where you felt like you were on the top of the world. 
then, he pulls up one that you wish he didn’t. it was buried so deep into your gallery that you have no idea how he found it — your most dreaded hyperrealism piece: a woman lays on her back, hair fading into the foreboding, void-like background. her face is twisted up into an abject sadness, a deep-seated pain that even now, you have no idea how you captured so vividly. her veiny left hand is splayed next to her head, thin crimson threads tied to each finger so tight that she has begun to bleed. the strings fall limp beside her, severed from their counterparts that meander off of the canvas. more red threads loop their way around her neck, pulled taut as if to choke her — and to her throat, she holds a pair of sharp-pointed scissors, hand gripping the metal tight enough to pale her knuckles. 
it’s dark. it’s terribly dark and you wish he never saw it. why did he have to see it? why did he have to choose that one? the world tilts on its axis as he stares down at the picture of your most soul-baring work, though you think it would be worse if he saw the actual painting in person.
“what’s the story behind this one?” he asks quietly. your lungs expel all air, and you’re left gaping for more. breathe, come on, you have to breathe. your inhale is shaky, shuddered. breathe. say something.
“that one…” your voice trails off into something quiet. scared. “i made it when i was in a really— really dark place mentally, um. i made it mostly because—”
he’s looking at you now, concern shining in his irises, but you push on. 
“because i stopped believing in fate.”
while you could say more, you stop yourself there. you hate digging — digging into your deepest fears and emotions that you keep locked behind a wall so that you never have to feel them. a pandora’s box sits in the center of your heart, wrapped with chains to keep them imprisoned. somehow, though, you think yeonjun knows what you really want to say: you meeting each other wasn’t fate to you, but a gross series of coincidences, and when he asks if you think so, you simply nod.
“but out of everyone on this train, i met you. i got to know you — shouldn’t that mean something? can’t that be considered fate?” he presses. something akin to desperation laces his words, an urgency you’ve never heard from him. 
it sure feels like fate, doesn’t it? after all of those times that you ran into him, how he found you in the observation car when it was just you in there, how your feelings have unfolded like taking apart a paper crane in the short nine days you have known each other — it feels like it should be fate, you want to admit that all of it does seem like the universe’s divine intervention. maybe you running away was really just you trying to deny your fate to meet yeonjun while on this train. maybe him finding you was fate, an apology from whatever is above for what they put you through a year and a half ago.
“i think—” you hesitate. “i think so. it’s hard for it not to when i feel like i’ve known you my entire life.”
and you sit there and he’s smiling at you like you just created the earth with your bare hands. chicago passes outside the window. the sun shines high in the sky over the high rises, glints across glass panes and into his room. all you have is one more day on this train, and most of it will be spent sleeping tonight. he’ll wait for you tomorrow, right? would he wait for you forever?
“you know, i tell most people that my name is daniel.”
tilting your head, you echo, “daniel?” 
he hums as he scoots a bit closer, planting his feet on the floor next to yours and leaning forward. his knees support his elbows as he stares down at the floor. “it’s my english name. i used it when i was in college, i use it for my work, but for some reason, when i met you, my actual name, my given name, came out instead. call me silly, but i think my heart knew you’d become someone special to me. i wanted you to use my actual name — the one my parents call me. the one my closest friends call me.”
“oh.” why does your chest feel so tight right now? 
he sucks his lips behind his teeth for a moment. “yeah.”
sitting there, you wonder how you should respond to that. words expelled like an exhale of air, colliding with each other in front of your eyes, unable to be unscrambled by your mind. this time, it’s you who reaches over, closing the distance between you with a hand over his. his palm flips open to meet your own, your fingers linking together like matching puzzle pieces. you take a deep breath, and squeeze. 
“thank you,” you whisper. thank you for being here. thank you for helping me find myself again.
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day twelve (point five). 
“i’m gonna miss you guys so much!” 
chaewon is basically on the verge of tears at this point, constantly blubbering how she is going to miss hanging out with you every day as she pulls you and sakura in for a hug over and over again. sakura laughs as she pulls away for the thousandth time this afternoon. “girl, it’s gonna be okay. we’re gonna meet up for coffee soon, right?”
she looks towards you, and you give an enthusiastic nod. “right. i’ll invite my friend too. she said she’d love to meet you guys.” 
chaewon’s pout doesn’t vanish, but she looks a little less emotional after all of your reassurances. blinking back the remnants of her tears, she nods with a watery “okay.”
you bring her in for one more hug while sakura asks, “have you seen him yet?” 
“no, i haven’t heard from him since last night.” your teeth worry your bottom lip, peeling a piece of raised skin off. the sensation stings. 
her lips purse sympathetically, a hand being placed on your shoulder. “i doubt he’d leave without saying something to you, don’t worry. he has to be around here somewhere.”
“yeah, you’re probably right.” as chaewon pulls away, you check your phone again. no texts or calls yet. doubt ricochets around in your brain, but you know yeonjun; he wouldn’t do that to you. 
“i’d love to wait with you, but my manufacturer is pissed i didn’t call them back yesterday, so i should get going,” sakura admits with an apologetic smile. her fingers squeeze your shoulder one time before her arm drops back to her side. 
“i should go too,” chaewon sadly adds, kicked puppy eyes in full effect. “my cat is waiting for me. my friend said she was a little demon the whole time i was gone.”
“it’s okay,” you laugh, shooing them away jokingly. “you guys can go. i’ll be fine.” 
with a last group hug, they grab their suitcases and head towards the hallway that connects the train station to the subway lines. sakura twirls around, walking backwards as she calls, “keep us updated! we need to know everything,”
“of course!” you yell back, grin widening. chaewon turns back too to wave, and you wave back. eventually, the crowd swallows them up, and you are left alone to wait. a few minutes pass, and you realize that this sea of people will likely make it impossible for either of you to find each other. his contact is pulled up on your phone, your thumb hovering the call button. you look around one more time—
and he’s standing right there, mere feet in front of you, in all of his glory, long hair still flopping into his face, eyes still dreamy and all-consuming. you stand there for a moment, simply staring at each other with stupid, goofy grins overtaking your faces. long legs carry him over to you, and before you know it, you’re wrapped up in his arms and pulled into his strong chest. you bury your head into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.
“thank god,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “i thought you might have left already.”
pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous stare. “what in the world made you think that? i was waiting for you.”
his ears tint an opaque red, the raised apples of his cheeks flushed a similar hue. he’s bewitching, and despite knowing that since the very first day — the day that you drew him for the first time — there’s so much more to him than looks to you now. he’s beautiful in both body and soul, in heart and head. one hand removes itself from your middle to cup your jaw, steadying your gaze with yours. your heart pounds, knees weak like a newborn doe’s as he stares deep into your eyes. blinding are the emotions swirling in his dark irises, but it doesn’t burn anymore. it’s more like the caress of the sun in the springtime, bright yet gentle in its own right. 
“this feels long overdue for me to say,” he begins, eyes closing as if to steel himself. when he opens them again, resolve has been added to the mix. “but i have feelings for you. i’ve never fallen for someone so quickly. i’ve never met someone like you, and i just— i knew, from the very day that i saw you, that we’d have something to do with each other. and then we kept running into each other, and i just thought wow, this has to be—”
“yeonjun,” you call, interrupting his ramblings. he pauses, eyes wide and anticipatory, as your hand moves up to cover his on your jaw. you can’t help the tremble in your lips as you speak. “i feel the same way.”
his lips purse, hiding a smile, before he surges forward and embraces you for a second time. the pure, unadulterated joy that the action brings you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you’re almost…sad, when he pulls away.
“can i take you out on a date?”
the question throws you off kilter, and you have to catch yourself before you fall face first into his chest. “like, right now? with our suitcases and everything?”
“i’ve done much worse,” he chuckles, ruffling his hair, only for the locks to fall back down into his eyes. “but i meant later today, maybe? around six? i have to go take care of some things i neglected before i left.” 
“that sounds wonderful,” you gush. despite your best efforts in keeping your excitement to a minimum, you bounce up onto your toes for second, heels sinking back onto the floor. you swear he mumbles a quiet “cute” under his breath before he’s slipping his hand into yours.
“perfect,” he beams, before he playfully continues. “shall we be off to the subway then, my lady?”
giggling, you fall into step next to him, your arm swinging with his between you. “we shall.”
*:・
he’s right on time to pick you up, dressed casually but not too casually. a cool beige, short-sleeved button-up is tucked into a pair of straight-legged black jeans that stop at his waist. the chunky converse on his feet cause him to be a bit taller than usual. evidently, he is distracted by his phone, head ducked down as he waits for you to show up.
“yeonjun!” you call out, causing his head to snap up. once he does, you find that he’s somewhat styled his hair back — most of it has been swooped back towards his ears. a few strands fall into his face, but his forehead is fully exposed, and he looks…amazing. sometimes, you wish you were a poet instead, because then you’d have the words describe what you were feeling, what you were seeing. his jaw drops at the sight of you, dolled up in a jean skirt and frilly tank top over a thin long sleeve, your makeup soft and flattering to your features. 
“hi,” he breathes, and you repeat the greeting back to him. “you look…wow.”
“thanks,” you, biting your glossy lip. as his focus flits down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh, you shyly smile, releasing it. a shock runs through you, new and carnal and it warms your stomach when he bites down on his own lip for a split second. “um, i know we didn’t really talk about where we were going to go, but there’s a thai place down the street from here, if you wanna go there? it’s my favorite.”
“of course,” he accepts, offering his arm to you. you loop your own through, standing close to him with your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow. “lead the way.”
now that neither of you feel the need to skirt around your feelings, silence no longer lingers between pauses in conversation — both of you are able to pick it back up with ease. you meant it when you said that you feel like you’ve known him your whole life, and it reflects in the way you banter with him without worry or care. it’s…nice, freeing, not having to think too hard about what you’re about to say. natural. everything with him feels so natural. 
when both of you are sated, in both terms of food and conversation, he offers to walk you back to your apartment. the sun is beginning to set, and the sky has faded into a wash of rosy pink. the hue reflects the giddy feeling churning in your chest, rendering you light-headed and dizzy and fuck you just want to kiss him—
and he does. standing in front of your apartment building, he swoops down and captures your lips with his. slow, unhurried, his lips taste sweet like thai tea and are as soft as clouds. no one leads the other, no one moves to deepen the kiss. no, instead, you and yeonjun savor the taste of each other, the syrupy, vertiginous feeling of your first kiss together. when he pulls away, his lips have a slightly swollen quality to them, though you’re sure own look the same. you don’t want him to leave yet. you want more, you want something carnal and irrepressible that, by the way he’s looking at you, he wants too. playing with the locks of hair at the nape of his neck, you pant against his lips. “come inside with me, please?”
soft eyes darken, and he takes your breath away once more with another kiss, hands squeezing your waist. once he separates your lips from his, he rests his forehead against yours. nerves flutter in your stomach. “okay.” 
you find it terribly difficult to keep your hands off of him as you unlock your door, as it shuts behind you. for a minute, you stand there, waiting for something, anything to happen — then he’s crowding you in against your door and his lips are on your again. although there remains an air of softness, urgency fills the gaps where your lips don’t quite meet as they meld together, his tongue slipping into your mouth to curl with your own. your shoulder blades press into the cool wood of your door, the warmth of his body against your front a dizzying contrast to your scattered mind — but you want more. you want him.
when he slips a knee between your legs and knocks them apart, you let him. when he presses that knee into your core, encourages you to grind against it, you let him, you listen. whining into his mouth, you tug at his shirt, at his belt loops, his hair — anything you can get your hands on, you’re pulling at it, grinding down harder as his jeans rub your soaked panties against your aching pearl. a cry rips itself from your throat, mouth leaving as your head is thrown back against the door. “y-yeonjun—”
“patience, love. i’m gonna make you feel good,” he mumbles as he ravages your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. his hands have snuck beneath your shirt and smooth over your stomach up to the cups of your bra, squeezing the flesh over the fabric. as you raise you arms, he helps you pull your top off, the article thrown onto the floor without ceremony or care. his hands loop behind your back, fiddling with your bra clasp. “can i?”
“please,” you keen, and he wastes no time in doing so, expert fingers sliding the straps down your arms until your bra, too, lays on the floor. lips find your right nipple, enveloping the pebbled flesh in a warm wetness that causes your back to arch into him. one hand pulls you into him, while the other tweaks your other tit. his teeth graze it, and the stinging edge of painful pleasure causes you to shiver. he hums, vibrations causing you to moan his name louder, plead for him to do more. leaving your breast, his mouth kisses and laps at the skin of your stomach. down, down, down, until he drops to his knees in front of you, swiftly unzipping your skirt and pulling it off of you. lips find your thighs, biting down lightly, and you squeak, hand finding his hair and pulling. he looks up at your through his lashes, absolutely depraved and almost drooling for more. you gulp, legs almost giving out under you as you smooth your hand over his hair, pushing the strands that have fallen into his face back. “can we— can we move to the bed?”
immediately, he stands, pulling you behind him before he’s placing you onto the edge of your bed with great care. before he can fall to his knees again, you curl your shaking fingers into his shirt. “take this off? i wanna see you.”
with a huff of a chuckle, he does as you ask, revealing a toned stomach, broad shoulders, muscled arms. your tongue darts across your lips as you drink him in, causing him to smirk. “like what you see, pretty?”
“y-yes,” you stutter out, quiet and wanting and full of lecherous need. your thighs attempt to squeeze together in order to provide some relief to your pulsating core, but his legs stop them from fully closing. his fingers find your jaw, squeezing the flesh. your cheeks heat up. 
“so fucking cute.” the praise sends a white hot streak through your stomach and into your center. your face is on absolute fire now, vision growing hazy around the edges as you watch him sink down between your thighs, your panties quickly discarded to reveal your center to his eyes. two fingers trace your folds before dipping beneath them to find your entrance. his eyes widen at what he finds, fingers coming back up coated in your wetness, glinting against his fingertips and knuckles in the light streaming in through your windows. “you’re so wet, baby. this all for me? a little kissing got you this needy?”
“mhm— oh,” you gasp when he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking on them lewdly as he refuses to tear his gaze from yours. he moans at your taste, hot tongue swiping up the remnants that accidentally smeared onto the corner of his lips once he removes his fingers. his smirk returns, hands sliding under your ass to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his mouth. you sit up on your elbows to watch him kiss his way up your inner thigh, hands holding you open for him. there’s nowhere for you to hide, as he traces your folds with his tongue, dipping into your entrance and swiping up to your clit. crying out, your fingers find his hair in an ironclad grip. he groans against your pearl, your hips bucking up into his face before his arms snake around each thigh and hold you still. he alternates between circling the bud with his tongue and sucking it between his plush lips, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth as he loses himself in your taste. meanwhile, you’re already so close to the edge, you can feel your walls begin to clench around nothing, your hips jumping up as far as he allows. as he dips down to your entrance, his nose bumps against your clit, but his tongue is back in no time to continue its assault on your poor little clit. “jjun, ‘m gonna, please, ‘m gonna—”
“cum,” he mumbles against you. “cum f’me, pretty girl.”
with his permission, your head falls onto your sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your vision spots white. cries pour from your lips like honey for him to drink, but you never quite come down fully. rather, he keeps circling his tongue against your clit through your high, and as your orgasm subsides, another one already begins to build. tears prick your eyes as you plead, “jjun, no, can’t, i can’t, nonono— i can’t!”
“yes, you can,” he murmurs, removing his arm from your right thigh. his lips don’t leave your clit as you feel two fingers slip into your soaked entrance, smoothly thrusting in and out and curling up into your upper wall until he finds that soft spot inside you that has your voice shattering into shards of moans and staccato wails. he groans against you as he feels your walls clench, the pace of his fingers unforgiving as he coaxes another mind-shattering orgasm from your body. your fingers flutter around his walls, watery hiccups torn from your throat. this time, he slows down, helps you ride out your high, before he removes his fingers, licking his lips of your essence as he does. climbing onto the bed, he hovers over you, taking in your spit-slick lips and tear-lined eyes. he wipes the tears away with gentle motions, cooing when you whine. he sits there until you come back to him, lucidity shining in your eyes as you blink them open. smiling, you pull him in for a languid kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before he pulls away. 
when he caresses your cheek with his thumb, asking you if you’re okay, you lean into his touch, “mhm, want you to fuck me.”
“i can do that,” he laughs, causing you to reciprocate. standing, he slips his jeans and boxers down his thighs until he’s left in nothing, hardened cock veiny and flushed an angry red. you think it’s an average length, on the thicker side, the girth causing your mouth to water. as he runs his hands up your thighs, he asks, “d’you have any condoms, love?”
while you’d rather him fuck you raw, you know it’s safer this way. you point towards your nightstand. “there.”
as he fetches one, you scoot into the middle of the bed, watching him roll it on before he returns between your thighs, pumping his cock once, twice, lining it up with your entrance. his free hand grips your waist, watching as you move your hips to try to slide him into you. smirking, he presses his hips forward, cockhead dipping past your entrance. both of you moan at the sensation. slowly, he works his cock into you, little rolls of his hips until he’s seated fully within you, hips flush against your pelvis. 
“move,” you whine. “please move.” and that’s all it takes for him to swiftly pull out and slide back in again. as he thrusts into you again and again, his movements grow rougher, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot each time. moaning, you reach up towards him, forcing him to lean over you so you can kiss him again, swallowing each other’s sounds. he’s just as loud as you, praises falling naturally between his breathy moans. 
“feel s’good, baby. so fuckin’ tight and wet f’me. so unreal. d’you feel good, too?” he coos against the shell of your ear, warm breath curling against your necks. your walls clench around him at his desperate sounds.
“s-so good, jjunie,” you hum, feeling your third high of the night approaching. the knot in your stomach grows tighter as his thrusts grow sloppy, chasing his high as much as you are. a thumb moves down to rub your sensitive clit, quick little circles against the bud until your limbs are locking up, quaking as you finally cum around him. a few seconds later, his high hits him as well, his hips quivering as he spills into the rubber with a loud groan. 
slowly, he pulls out, ridding himself of the condom and soon returning to the bed to plop down next to you. arms pull you in close as you both pant and grin tiredly at each other, basking in the quiet that permeates the air, and he stares at you, dulcet eyes boring into yours. 
“what’re you thinking about?” you decide to ask, poking the center of his sweat-beaded forehead. taking a moment to respond, he pulls you even closer so that your noses almost touch. 
“it’s just— there’s this concept in korean — inyeon,” the timbre of his voice raises slightly as he switches to his native tongue, and lowers again when he switches back to english. “that, um, it means…”
his cheeks are growing the slightest bit pink, a shade that reflects the cotton candy clouds that float past your windows. squeezing his hand, you silently urge him to continue, soft gaze finding his own. a gentle kiss pressed to his cheek, his jaw, naked skin pressed against naked skin. together, whole, one.
he starts again, “there’s no direct translation, but it basically is fate. strings of fate. i truly believe the universe has connected us in some way, whether it be through some invisible red string or another force. and i know, i know what you said about fate, but i can’t stop thinking about how we found each other. there’s something beautiful about starting off as strangers and getting here. i don’t know, i’m just rambling at this point,” he chuckles, burying his nose into the pillow under his head. “i’ve just never felt this way about someone before. i’m sorry.”
with a gentle hand, you cup the side of his face, forcing him to look back at you. “don’t be sorry, that’s beautiful, and i think—” you sigh, blinking back tears that threaten to fall. “i think you’ve changed my mind about fate. i’ve also never felt this way about someone before. i feel like you know me on some level that no one else does. you just. you just get it, and i—” 
you don’t think this is quite love yet, but you believe what you’re feeling within your chest, tingling all over your body, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to it. he smiles, whispers a small, soft, “i know,” and lips find lips once more. hands find hands, and you feel alive. you feel like everything that you see is now in vivid technicolor, no longer masked by a veil of gray.
and when you wake up tomorrow, you think that you’re going to start a new painting.
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