#jun angst

[wheeboo]

psycho | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. in which a new patient is assigned for treatment under your care, and you begin to put the puzzles and pieces together to a past case that you thought to have ceased away from your mind. PAIRING. wen junhui x psychologist!reader (ft. nurse!seokmin) GENRE. dark au, mystery, angst, a tiny tiny subtle pinch of fluff, my very first attempt at a psychological thriller :> WARNINGS. LOTS of descriptions and talks about fire, cursing, mentions of death, a mention of cigarettes, descriptions of scars + burns, descriptions of injuries from glass, mention of blood, reader has a small habit of scratching at their arms, jun makes a suggestive comment if you take it that way WORD COUNT. 12.8k

notes: this is for the caratsland event and probably the most complex plot i've tried to execute so far jsdlkfdfsdf. thank you to @slytherinshua for reading this over for me and being my lil confidence boost 💕 feedback would be much appreciated!! pls remember this is all fictional and not at all an accurate depiction of a psychiatric facility!!

another note: also this turned out to be rlly dialogue heavy and jun asks too many damn questions in this istg lmao

PRESENT DAY: 2023

"Dr. L/N, you have a new patient assigned to you in room 610."

You don't glance up from your desk. Instead, you finish reviewing the case notes of your previous patient and nod in acknowledgment to the nurse standing in your doorway, a friendly young man named Lee Seokmin who was a recent hire, as you were told. As you hear the drop of a patient file in front of you, you lean back in your chair and finally get yourself to look up.

"Thank you, Seokmin," You tell him with a soft smile.

Seokmin grins, teeth all-flashy and cheerful. "You're welcome, doctor," before dismissing himself back out of your office.

You turn your attention to the patient file now resting on your desk. As you start to read through the notes, you see it only contains some basic information about the patient: name, age, and a brief overview of their medical and psychiatric history. It's a starting point, but you know that the real work begins when you meet the person behind the paperwork.

"Name, Moon Jun... male, age 27..." You quietly study the file to yourself. The file mentions a history of severe emotional trauma and burn scars due to a fire, which immediately catches your attention in more ways than one. It also mentions extensive facial scarring and a history of therapy that completely lacked significant progress. A part of it is a familiar story in your field𑁋it isn't uncommon for individuals to experience setbacks in their recovery.

But there's something about this patient's history that tugs oddly at your heartstrings.

As you rummage deeper into the file, you come across a brief note from a colleague who had previously assessed Moon Jun, mentioning he had been withdrawn and non-communicative during his stay, displaying anti-social behaviour, sometimes even having random bursts of aggression when approached. You take a mental note of all this in your head.

Closing the patient file, you rise from your chair and adjust the white coat draped around you, before leaving your office. You make your way through the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallways of the psychiatric facility. The environment here is all-too familiar to you; you've spent years navigating these halls. With every door you pass, there hides a different story; a different struggle; a different battle.

Upon finally reaching the room, you hesitate outside the door for a moment. The anticipation and curiosity surrounding you mixes with a touch of uncertainty, almost like fear, as they often do when meeting a new patient. You've been doing this for nearly ten years, and the feeling isn't new.

Then as you come back to your senses, you lift a hand, give a gentle knock to the door, before entering the room. It's dimly lit inside, the curtains ominously drawn on the windows to conceal the sunlight peeking through. A figure sits at the edge of the bed, back turned to you, and the hood of his hoodie pulled low over his head worn over his patient gown.

"Moon... Jun?" You call out softly, trying not to startle him.

He doesn't respond immediately, shoulders tensing at the sound of your voice. After a moment of silence, he slowly turns his head to acknowledge your presence. Half of his face is obscured by a mask, leaving only his dark eyes visible.

"Doctor," he replies gravelly.

His gaze lingers on you as you take a seat in a chair that sat against the wall next to the bed, keeping a respectful distance from him. You've encountered many patients who have initially shown distrust or apprehension, but there's an intensity in the way he looks at you that sends something chilling on the surface of your skin, especially when it's the only part of his face that you can see.

You try to break the ice with a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Moon. My name is Dr. Y/N, and I'll be conducting our therapy sessions during your stay here. Please, make yourself as comfortable as you can."

He slowly nods, but his eyes never leave yours. The mask covering his face makes it difficult to read his expressions.

"Before we begin," You continue, clearing your throat. "I want you to know that this is a safe and confidential space. Our conversations are private, and I'm here to help you in any way I can𑁋to help you heal. You can share as much or as little as you're comfortable with."

You see the way his gloved hands clench together in his lap.

"I can't be healed," he mutters quietly, voice trembling as you sense the hopelessness in his tone. You've heard this phrase many times before during your career.

"I understand that you may feel that way right now," You reply, as soothingly as possible. "but I believe that with time and the right support, healing is possible for anyone. It's a journey, and I'm here to walk it with you. It's a process, and you don't have to go through it alone."

His gaze remains fixed on you, and the unsettling tension in the room lingers, almost palpable that you feel like there's an imaginary barrier between you and him that was enough for you to see this small part of him, while he can see all of you.

"Would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself? How do you feel coming here today?" You ask, hoping to begin the process of establishing some sort of connection.

He uncomfortably shifts a bit on the bed.

"I never wanted to come here," he says flatly. "They say this is a place of healing, but I've seen enough doctors like you. They prod and poke, dig into your past, and in the end, nothing changes. They don't know what I've been through, what I've seen. The scars, everything, they don't heal."

The words that leave his mouth are bitter and sour, yet you could only get yourself to nod sympathetically.

"It's not uncommon for people to feel that way, especially if they haven't found the right support. I want you to know that my approach is different. I'm here to listen, not to prod or poke." You glance down at the file in your hand and flip it over so that you couldn't see any information about him. "You're in control of our sessions, Mr. Moon. We can go at whatever pace you'd like."

He finally seems intrigued by this, leaning in ever so slightly, eyes devoid of colour that seemed to bore straight into yours.

"Control?" he repeats, voice still carrying a hint of skepticism.

You nod once more. "Yes, control. You get to decide what you want to talk about, what you're comfortable sharing, and at what pace. If there are topics you'd like to avoid or take your time with, that's completely okay. We can work together to create a safe space for you."

He seems to be taking in your words. "And... what if I choose not to talk at all?"

You offer a reassuring smile. "Then that's the option we can settle with."

The minutes that tick by seem dreadingly slow, and there's a light that dances in his eyes from the singular light fixture hanging above that almost resembles that of a flame. It doesn't go away even if he blinks, and it draws you in. Just a tiny bit.

"However, is there anything specific you'd like to share with me today, Mr. Moon?" You ask, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "Any thoughts or concerns you'd like to discuss?"

For a moment, it seems like he's about to speak, but then he shakes his head ever so slightly, his hooded gaze still locked onto yours.

"Very well then." You let out a very subtle, shaky breath. It felt almost relieving. Silence it is.

That's what most of the session has come to𑁋sitting in this peculiar silence, feeling his eyes burn a hole right through you. It isn't until the end of the hour that he calls out toward you just as you were about to his exit his room, and you turn back to face him.

"Can you heal me, doctor?" he asks quietly, almost begging in a way. It's unnerving.

All you do is give him a faint smile.

"I'll try my best, Mr. Moon."

FLASHBACK: 2013

"...All I could see were orange and red flames, and the smoke was hurting my eyes. I couldn't breathe𑁋just barely, but it hurt. It was painful. They were getting larger and larger and the screams louder and louder. Everything was gone."

"And what did you do while the fire kept growing?"

"I watched it all happen. I watched it all burn in front of me." The words had sent an eerie shiver up your spine, forcing the pen in your hands to stop mid-sentence. There was a singular pause that had come to follow, a harrowing silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, a subtle quiver in his voice that you barely caught. "There was nothing I could do."

You clicked your pen, its sound echoing in the tense silence. The room seemed to grow colder with each moment that passed.

"But it's all my fault, right?" he had asked, tone so innocent that it itches a part of your heart uncomfortably, but tugged in a way you felt determined to take root of the grief in his chest and rip it apart. And for a moment as you looked in his dark eyes, over his youthful features and guilt-ridden face, you felt that inkling feeling again. "I killed them. It's all my fault."

"None of this is your fault. Blaming yourself for something you couldn't control is a heavy burden to carry," You reassured him calmly, as gently as you could, knowing the power that your own words could cause for someone seemingly lost, troubled, and young. "You saved yourself. You're alive; you did what you could to survive, and you're here to heal. I'm here to help you heal, okay?"

Your reassurance was met with a fleeting smile, but it hadn't quite reach his eyes, yet his gaze peered directly into you as if searching for something in you𑁋you could only think it was hope. Hope that he wanted to heal just as much as you wanted to help him heal. It's your job. This was why you took this job in the first place.

You needed to save people, either from the demons in their minds or the traumas that haunted them. This boy had lost his entire family in a housefire, for God's sake. This was your duty.

"It's not my fault," he had said, and met your eyes, as if searching for approval. "It's not my fault."

"That's right, Hui." You offered him a faint, assuring smile. "It's not your fault."

PRESENT DAY: 2023

"Excuse me, Dr. L/N? Is it okay if I sit here?"

You glance up to see Seokmin holding up a tray of lunch food, returning you from your zoning thoughts. You shoot him a kind smile and a nod, motioning to the empty space across from you for him to have a seat. Usually, you frequently have lunch alone in the comfort of your office where you can tend to yourself in solitude, but today, you might as well welcome the company.

Seokmin sets his tray down and takes a seat, and for some minutes, there's a comfortable silence as you both begin to eat. He seems to notice the tired lines to your face, but he doesn't press on about it.

"Have you been settling in well?" You ask him suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Huh, me? Oh." He's a bit taken aback, cheeks flushed, and you give a soft chuckle. "You could say that. I wanted to try something new after working bedside for the longest time. I didn't think that psych would be a field I was interested in𑁋look where I am now, though."

"That's the thing about this field." You let out a sigh, giving a knowing smile. "It has a way of drawing you in, even if you didn't plan on it."

"It was definitely an experience when I was in nursing school," Seokmin comments eagerly. You felt as if you were talking to a close friend rather than another colleague, and it feels rather refreshing. "and doing ICU was already draining of itself."

You take a sip of your drink, nodding your head. "I can only imagine. It can be quite rigorous."

Seokmin lets his gaze wander over you curiously. "How long have you worked here, doctor?"

"Please, you can just call me Y/N. Unless we're working."

Seokmin smiles. "How long have you worked here then, Y/N?"

You pause for a moment. Thinking about the amount of years you've worked in this field hasn't been a particular thought to come up𑁋time just seems to fly by when it's the only job you've been dedicated to for most of your life.

"Hm, ten years now? I believe this month will mark my ten years here."

Seokmin's eyes visibly widen in awe before responding, "Wow, that's... You must have really seen a lot of things. I really envy you, doctor."

Your smile fades just a bit; it's barely noticeable, though you still hope that Seokmin doesn't see it. You can feel that feeling gnaw at your skin again, something inexplicable, like a sense of foreboding that seemed to be creaking open a door you believed to have firmly shut for good.

But you choose to push it aside, just like you always do, dismissing it perfectly with a mutter of a thank you. It's ironic, considering this is what you do𑁋normally you would tell patients to confront their past and face their fears, but when it comes to your own, you tend to bury them.

There's an itch that crawls up your arms, and you knead at it through your sleeves with your fingers.

Maybe you can get used to this company, though.

"Do you have any kids, doctor?"

The question comes after a click of your pen, and you glance up from the vitals sheet in your hand to see Moon Jun sitting criss-crossed on the bed, gloved hands sitting on his lap and pupils peering curiously over you.

"No, Mr. Moon," You reply, keeping your tone soft, somewhat nonchalant. "I don't have any children."

He tilts his head slightly, almost as if he's studying you like a specimen under a microscope. The mask on his face makes him appear even more enigmatic, his dark, even charming eyes the only feature you can discern.

"No family at all?" he asks. "No husband, wife, or children to go home to?"

"I live alone. My work keeps me quite occupied."

Some silence passes.

"Alone," he repeats, almost to himself, as if savouring the word in his mouth. "Don't you ever feel... lonely though?"

His question hangs in the air like a dark cloud. It's an oddly personal inquiry, but you decide to address it professionally. "Loneliness is a feeling that many people experience at different points in their lives. It's a normal human emotion, and it's something we can work through."

His gaze narrows, and his gloved fingers twitch in his lap. His mask conceals most of his facial expressions, but you can sense an intensity in his gaze.

"I've felt lonely my entire life, you know," he points out as you sit yourself down in the chair in front of him just like all your previous sessions. Despite the considerable space between you two, sometimes you swear you can feel him breathing right down your neck. "Even being in here too, it.... feels like a different kind of loneliness. A place where they put people who are broken. Like me."

"I can assure you that you are not broken, Mr. Moon," You tell him reassuringly. "How are you with meeting the other patients here? Are there any you have been interacting with since our last session?"

He leans back slightly, his gloved hands still resting on his lap, and his gaze seems to drift momentarily as if he's recalling something.

"I think... they are scared of me, to be honest," he answers, eyes crinkling just slightly as if there was a smile playing on his lips right below his mask. "But... perhaps they're all just lost, confused, and weak. They pretend to get better, but they're just putting on a show. It's a bit pathetic, don't you think?"

"It's not uncommon for people in this environment to have their guard up," You tell him. "Sometimes, it's just a reaction to the unfamiliar. Everyone here is dealing with their own battles, just as you are, Mr. Moon."

He chuckles lowly at that. It's the first time you've heard such a sound like that leave his mouth, like a dissonant note echoing in an otherwise quiet room. His masked face gives nothing away.

"Maybe it's because of this stupid mask on my face," he says, touching the mask with the tips of his fingers. "It makes me look like a criminal or a monster."

"The mask might be intimidating to some," You acknowledge, crossing your arms together. "but it doesn't define who you are."

His eyes narrow slightly, though there's that twinge of amusement as he crosses his arms together, mirroring your body language.

"You're not scared of me, right, doctor?"

You meet his steady gaze, his own searching yours from behind the mask. There's a moment of silence, something unspoken lingering in the air.

"No, Mr. Moon, I'm not scared of you," You respond, keeping yourself composed. "I'm here to understand you."

He leans back, that hint of amusement still present on his face.

"I think you would make a great parent, doctor."

The unexpected compliment catches you off-guard for a moment, making you briefly at a loss for words. There's a slight blush that crawls up your cheeks, and you clear your throat, trying to regain your composure.

"Thank you." You give an appreciative smile. "That's very kind of you to say."

You see that flickering flame in his pupils again. It's a fire that seems to burn brighter with each passing minute, and it leaves you both intrigued and uneasy.

FLASHBACK: 2013

"I told you not to call me that!" Hui exclaimed angrily in frustration, his face turning a shade of red as he glared at you. The sudden outburst had caught you off-guard, and for a moment, found yourself at a loss for words. His face contorted with volatile frustration, and his hands clenched into fists.

"I apologise," You said calmly, doing your best to defuse the situation. "I didn't mean to upset you. What would you like me to call you then?"

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself down. His shoulders slumped, and his expression softened slightly.

"Just call me by my nickname, okay?" he urged, voice a tad less sharp now, but it's still enough to pierce. "Hui is fine. I hate my name! It's ugly. I want to forget about it𑁋I want everyone to forget about it! That name doesn't exist anymore, got it?"

"Of course, I understand." You leaned back forward in your chair, slow and cautiously. "But I want you to tell me why you stole crayons from Chaewon earlier in the rec room."

Hui only scoffed in response. "It's not that big of a deal. I only took a few from her. She'll forget about it."

"You took something from someone else without permission, Hui," You explained matter-of-factly. "That's a violation of their personal space and boundaries."

Hui's focus darted around the room for a moment, lips pursed and fingers messing around with the frays of his hospital gown. Then his gaze hardened once more as he landed back on you. His silence was almost unsettling as it stretched between you, but you remained patient, waiting for him to offer an explanation.

"Fine, whatever," he muttered, finally relenting. "I wanted them for a project I'm working on, that's all."

"A project? What kind of project?"

"Back in group therapy... They wanted us to create something meaningful or something𑁋something that means a lot to us, and I needed the crayons for it. So I took them from her."

It took a couple of moments before you nodded, acknowledging his explanation. "I see, Hui. It's important to express yourself through art or projects, but it's also important to respect others' belongings. Try asking for what you need instead of taking it without permission, okay?"

Hui's response was a simple, noncommittal nod, eyes holding onto yours a moment too long.

"Now, the next time you're back in the rec room, please say sorry to Chaewon whenever you see her, okay?"

Again, all he did was nod begrudgingly, his expression showing a hint of reluctance.

"Good." You gave him a proud smile. "That's all for today. Tell me about your project next session, alright?"

You felt his eyes on you as you grabbed your case notes and stood up, before leaving him in his room. And even though you were out of his room, you swore you could still feel the weight of his gaze on you.

PRESENT DAY: 2023

You find Moon Jun sitting on the edge of the bed once entering inside of his room, gloved hands folded neatly in his lap. The mask obscures his face as usual, but his dark eyes lock onto yours the moment you walk inside. The dim lighting in the room casts long shadows on the walls, and you find yourself drawn into those shadows as you take a seat across from him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Moon," You greet warmly, taking your usual seat across from him. "How has your day been so far?"

He doesn't immediately respond. There's a hint of curiosity in his hooded eyes, but it's devoid of warmth. It's subtle, almost imperceptible, but you've learned to pay attention to the smallest details when dealing with patients over the years. It still sends a shiver down your spine.

"Just been like any other day in this place," he finally replies coolly.

You offer a polite smile and proceed with the session. "Is there anything specific you'd like to discuss for today's session, Mr. Moon?"

He thinks for a moment, tapping his gloved fingers lightly against his knee. The rhythmic sound seems to echo in the room.

"Are you interested in mythology, doctor?" he asks, and the question was certainly something you didn't expect him to ask. He continues, "I've always had an interest in it growing up, so I was wondering if you did too."

You chuckle quietly. "I wish I could say the same, but... I guess I found it intriguing at times."

"Surely you must have heard some stories though." He giggles at this, unclasping his hands together and propping himself right at the edge of the bed so that he's leaning forward, his masked face closer to yours. The dim light makes it hard to see his features clearly, and the shadows in the room seem to grow darker, more pronounced. "Are you familiar with the creature, the phoenix?"

You pause for a moment to think, before giving a slow, careful nod. "I've... definitely heard of it."

"The phoenix," he murmurs, voice a soft, hypnotic cadence. "It's a beautiful creature of rebirth and fire, isn't it?"

The mention of fire makes you shift slightly in your seat.

"Mr. Moon, I'm not entirely sure where you're𑁋"

You're interrupted as he leans even closer, his masked face now mere inches from yours, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intense and unsettling focus. The shadows play tricks on your vision, making it feel like the walls are closing in on you.

"I just find it fascinating," he continues. "The idea of burning away the old and rising from the ashes anew. It's like a fresh start, a chance to be reborn. Do you believe in second chances, doctor?"

You swallow the lump in your throat. His intense gaze, shrouded by the mask, seems to hold you almost captive and confined to the chair you sat on, and his words seem to echo in the confined space.

"I... I believe that everyone deserves a chance to heal and grow, Mr. Moon," You respond carefully, trying to regain your composure. "But it's also important to work through the past before embracing the future."

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering your words. The room remains eerily quiet, the shadows deepening around you.

"Do you believe people can truly change?" he asks, voice softer now, almost pleading.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question sitting right on your chest.

"I believe that change is possible, Mr. Moon," You reply gently, choosing your words with care. "People have the capacity to grow and evolve, and to make choices that lead to a more positive outlook. But this varies from person to person𑁋if they are willing to put in the effort to do so."

For a moment, the tension in the room seems to dissipate slightly. The shadows on the walls appear to retreat, and the dim light feels less suffocating.

"Doctor," he finally speaks, voice low despite only being the two of you in the room, like he's telling you a secret. "what if... those flames of the past have burned too brightly, leaving nothing but ashes behind?"

You furrow your brows. "I-I would say𑁋"

"It's what happened to me, doctor, don't you understand?" he snaps suddenly, standing up from the bed to step closer to you. "You can't possibly understand what it's like to fucking lose everything, to watch it all burn in front of your fucking eyes! This is why I did this𑁋I put my life into the phoenix. I burned what was left of me, and now I'm here, in this absolute hellhole."

"Mr. Moon, I need you to calm down, please𑁋"

There's a flash of anger that shoots through his eyes, the flame burning in his pupils brighter than before. The atmosphere grows tense in the snap of a finger, and you instinctively stand up to bring yourself in the direction of the door to the room, maintaining a safe distance, acutely aware of the limited space and the fact that you're alone with him. There's an emergency button within reach where you can call for help whenever needed.

You can't get yourself to respond, feeling frozen from the way you can feel your heart pounding anxiously in your chest from his close proximity. He takes a step back, his hands trembling slightly as he clenches and unclenches them. The room seems to regain a semblance of normalcy, but the tension still lingers in the air, and you still can't move.

You watch as he cowers back towards the bed, leaving you standing next to the door. You felt as if you've been holding your breath, like you were submerged underwater and your fight or flight instincts were kicking in.

"You won't give up on me, right, doctor?" he asks, and the way he says it so weakly, naively, makes your head spin. "You can trust me, right?"

You smooth out your white coat, placing yourself back down in the seat across from him anticipatingly.

"I... I trust you," You mutter meekly. "I won't give up on you."

The corner of his eyes crinkle again. He's smiling. You can see it through the mask.

"How lovely," he states sweetly. "We're on the right track, then."

"Y/N𑁋I mean Dr. L/N, are you okay?" Seokmin's voice comes up from behind as you walk yourself towards your office, feeling completely and utterly scatterbrained from the events of the past hour.

As Seokmin's voice reaches your ears, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. You turn to Seokmin and offer him a reassuring smile, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes, but seeing him in front of you already makes you feel a tad bit better.

"I'm fine, Seokmin, thank you." Your voice carries a hint of exhaustion and residual unease. "Just a challenging session, but I'm okay."

Seokmin just nods, but as you were about to turn around, he says, "If you... uh, ever need someone to talk to or anything, just know I'm here for you, okay? It can be tough, I've heard."

You smile gratefully at him, this time genuinely reaching your eyes. It feels like a breath of fresh air talking to him.

"Thank you," You tell him. "I might just have to take you up on that someday."

Seokmin scratches the back of his neck shyly and returns your smile with a warm one of his own. "Well, you know where to find me."

You stand still for a moment as Seokmin begins to dismiss himself away to resume his rounds, but just then, you feel a sudden idea pop up in your head.

"Seokmin, wait!" You exclaim after the man, who immediately turns around to the sound of your voice, peering at you worriedly. "Actually, there's something... Could you do me a favour?"

His eyes light up curiously. "Sure, what do you want me to do?"

You step up closer to him, looking around to ensure no one else was listening in.

"Can you help find me more information about the patient in 610?" You lean in, lowering your voice to a hushed tone. "I'd like to know more about his background, more than what's in his file right now, or just anything that might help me understand him better."

Seokmin raises a brow briefly but nods either way. "I'll see what I can do, Dr. L/N."

FLASHBACK: 2013

The rec room was buzzing with activity as you entered, giving a chance for patients to interact with others and engage in activities outside of their rooms. Laughter, conversation, and the occasional burst of youthful energy filled the air; it’s a striking comparison to the somber atmosphere of the individual therapy sessions you usually conducted.

As you glanced around to find Hui, you finally caught sight of the boy sitting alone at a table in the very corner of the room. He appeared seemingly engrossed on the piece of paper in front of him, an array of crayons sat on the table. His focus was so intense that he seemed completely oblivious to the world around him.

You approached Hui's table with a gentle smile. "Hui, how are you doing today?"

Hui looked up from his drawing, eyes meeting yours briefly. "I'm fine," he replied coldly. "Just drawing."

You glanced down at his artwork, which depicted a scene of fire and destruction. The flames consumed a house, while stick-figure people screamed in the windows, their tiny, distorted faces twisted in agony. The only colours there would be that of the orange and red gigantic flame that enveloped the jagged, blackened lines of the house.

"That's... quite a powerful drawing, Hui," You commented as you took a seat right next to him. "What made you choose this subject?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, eyes not leaving his paper. "It's just what I felt like drawing."

"Is this supposed to represent what happened to your family?"

Hui only continued to mindlessly colour his drawing, his crayon moving across the paper with deliberate strokes.

"Maybe," he replied stoically. "I saw it all happen, but I couldn't do anything."

You studied Hui's face for a moment, but his expression remained blank, his focus entirely on the drawing. His mien was calm, almost eerily so, in comparison to the disturbing scene of destruction right below his fingertips.

"Can you tell me more about what you saw, Hui?" You asked him.

He glanced at you briefly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. But it was gone so quickly that you couldn't be sure if you had imagined it.

"I already told you," he pressed. "I saw the fire, and I watched everything burn. It wasn't my fault that it happened."

You nodded, acknowledging his words, and continued to watch him work on the drawing.

"Did you ever feel sad about what happened, Hui?" You questioned.

Hui's face only remained impassive as he answered, "It won't change anything."

You could only think about all the trauma he must have endured𑁋from losing his family and being the sole survivor of such a ruinous event, to having to deal with all the emotions at once that it must feel almost numbing inside of him.

"Did anyone help you during or after the fire, Hui?" You prodded calmly.

He still didn't look up from his drawing. "Some firefighters came, and they put out the fire. But they couldn't save my family."

You felt that pang of sympathy for Hui as he mentioned the firefighters' futile attempts to save his family all while he was waiting right outside the house. It was clear that the traumatic experience had locked his emotions away behind a stoic, desensitized façade.

"I'm sorry to hear about your family, Hui," You said softly. "It's completely okay to feel sad or angry about what happened."

Hui's hand paused briefly in its colouring, but he didn't look up. You glanced down to the paper, noticing that he was drawing something in the corner, almost appearing like some sort of bird, like some sort of crow or cardinal.

"I don't feel much about it anymore. It's just the way things are."

Your eyes drift from his drawing, concern deepening, but you understood that emotional numbing was a common coping mechanism for trauma survivors. In a way, it's like a protective shell around oneself to prevent further pain. The emotional scars ran deep, and sometimes, it was easier for them to keep their feelings at bay rather than confront the overwhelming grief and sorrow that lurked beneath the surface.

That is what you attributed with Hui𑁋what you always had when he first came here. And you promised him patience and that it took time to fully heal.

"I'll leave you be now, okay?" You stood up from the seat, giving the young boy a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder.

Hui doesn't respond, still engrossed in his drawing. You took a step back, leaving him to his artwork, and decided to check on some of the other children in the room for the time being.

You swore you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away.

PRESENT DAY: 2023

Your eyes are practically lasering holes right through the manila folder of Moon Jun's file.

The file only houses the basics𑁋his medical history, therapy notes, and observations from the staff. But there's something missing, something you can't quite put your finger on. His background information is limited, and there are no records of any family members or relatives listed. It's as if he appeared out of nowhere.

A knock on your office door makes you jump, and you quickly open your eyes to see Seokmin standing there with a stack of papers in his hands, concern etched on his face.

"Sorry, did I startle you?" he asks, stepping inside your office.

You offer a tired smile. "A bit, but it's okay. Come in."

Seokmin walks further into your office, closing the door lightly behind him. He takes a moment to study your expression, clearly noticing the exhaustion and frustration on your face. You let out a sigh and lean back in your chair, rubbing your temples with your fingertips as Seokmin sits down right across from you.

"So, I tried to do some digging, as you asked." Seokmin places the stack of papers on the desk. "It wasn't easy to look into his medical history, but I think this might be important."

You straighten up in your chair, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you lean in to examine the stack of papers Seokmin has brought. However, what you expected is to see information regarding him, but instead, you see news reports.

"I... I don't know if any of these can be related, but I found a few unsolved cases of arson over the years. It might be the cause of his facial scarring," Seokmin explains. "I think one of them happened at an orphanage, another at an abandoned warehouse nearby, and another at a small church a few miles from here."

You carefully pick up one of the articles and start to read the details. The article mentions a fire at an orphanage several years ago that resulted in the tragic loss of lives. The incident remained unsolved, with no clear cause identified. Then you come across another article about the fire at the warehouse, and it, too, was a case that had perplexed investigators, leaving it unsolved.

"...and I also think there was one about a family from around... nine? Ten years ago? I didn't read all the details of it, but I believe only one survived𑁋"

That's when you feel your heart drop all the way down to the ground, into the ground at that point, eyes widening as the gasp that leaves your mouth cuts Seokmin off. You're already standing up, fingers trembling, as you frantically shuffle through the articles he had provided for you.

"Where can I find that one? Is it here?"

Your adamancy surprises Seokmin as he scrambles through the papers before taking one out and offering it to you. You take the article from his hands. The paper is slightly crumpled, and the ink is faded, but the headline is still clear: "Family Tragedy Claims Lives, Sole Survivor Emerges."

The only survivor was a teenage boy, whose name was redacted from the article for privacy.

But you know exactly who it is.

The article describes how he had been found by the firefighters, huddled on the lawn outside the burning house, his eyes blank with shock. Authorities had attempted to investigate, but the case quickly went cold due to lack of evidence. It also mentions that the boy had lost his entire family that night and was assumed to be too traumatised to provide any coherent information about the fire's cause, which later caused him to be sent to a psychiatric facility due to the trauma.

"Doctor, what is this?" Seokmin interrupts your thoughts as he brings up another paper from view.

You glance up from the article to meet Seokmin's gaze, the urgency in his eyes mirroring your own. He unfolds it carefully, and as your eyes scan the headline, your heart sinks further: "Tragic Fire Engulfs Local Psychiatric Facility."

As you read through it, you swear you feel the same flames dancing up the skin of your arms. This article reports a fire that occurred exactly ten years ago at the very psychiatric facility where both you and Seokmin currently work. You were there that night. It was only your first year as a psychologist at the facility, still learning the ropes of your profession. The memories you've long tried to suppress come flooding back.

The sound of alarms blaring, the acrid smell of smoke, the frantic efforts to evacuate patients, and the feeling of utter helplessness as the flames consumed parts of the facility. It had left scars on your soul, scars you thought you had buried deep over the years.

That boy was one of your first ever patients.

Your arms are itching again, and you can almost feel the searing heat from that night a decade ago.

"Y/N, are you... are you okay?" Seokmin asks. You can see the worry in his eyes, but you're not sure if you can answer his question.

You swallow hard, your throat dry as you try to find your voice. "Yeah, I just... Sorry, reading this article, and..."

That's when Seokmin gets it. "Were you..." His eyes lower down to where one of your hands is clawing anxiously at the sleeves of your arm, and he immediately takes away the article from view. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. I didn't know you were..."

You manage a weak smile as you bring your arms back down to your side, hugging yourself instead. "It's alright. You didn't know."

Seokmin doesn't seem entirely convinced, for a moment feeling stuck on what to say. "Are you sure that you're up for this? We can always𑁋"

"Yes," You say boldly. "It'll be okay."

You take a deep breath.

"I'll be okay."

"You seem troubled today, doctor."

In the dimly lit room, Moon Jun's observation is shrewd as always, whose calculating eyes seem to analyse every twitch of your expression as you both sit in the room together, right across from each other, with him hovering over you while you felt feeling like a cowering mouse trapped in a cage.

You flash him a faint, grateful smile. "I appreciate your concern, but let's focus back on you now, shall we?"

"Uh-uh, doctor," he taunts, crossing his arms together and shaking his head dismissively. Even in the darkness of the room, you swear you see his lips curl into a smirk under that damn mask of his. "If I'm not mistaken, you said at the very beginning that I have control over what I want to talk about in our sessions. I realise I hardly know anything about you! Isn't that funny? I consider you a dear friend, you know. You're the only person in this place who even makes the effort to talk with me."

The weight of his words suspend like a dense fog. You can hear the faint hum of the ventilation system, see the way the lone light fixture in the room seems to flicker intermittently. It plays tricks on your perception, making his features appear to morph and shift, all while his eyes are practically dissecting you.

"Friendship... is built on trust," You reply cautiously. "But our sessions are designed for your benefit. My role here is to help you, not the other way around, and my personal life is not relevant for this."

He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can feel his intense focus like a physical weight. You're caught in the gravitational pull of his eyes, his relentless gaze that seems to strip away your defenses. "But, doctor, how can you truly help me if you don't open up a little?"

He tilts his head, the mask inches away from your face, his eyes boring into yours.

"We could be more than what we are right now, couldn't we, doctor?" he whispers, feeling his cold breath against your skin even through the mask, and you close your eyes. "I could make you feel things you've never felt before𑁋"

"Stop! Please!" You yell out unexpectedly, hearing nothing but the unsteadiness of your breaths and the echo of your own voice in the dim room. Your eyes snap back open; he's not hovering over you, and the disturbing scenario you had just experienced was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

Instead, Moon Jun is calmly seated away from you, watching you intently from the bed. There's a curious glint in his eyes, one that suggests he's found your reaction to be rather... entertaining.

"Doctor, you do seem to be quite troubled today," he remarks almost playfully, voice dripping with amusement that shoots goosebumps up your skin. "Seeing things, aren't we?"

You can't quite find the words to respond, and the sensation of his cold breath against your skin still lingers in your memory.

"You must think about me a lot, day and night possibly, if you imagine such things," he teases, and you feel the way his words crawl under your skin. "You probably wonder what lies behind this mask of mine, don't you? You're a special friend𑁋perhaps you deserve to see it."

You watch the way his gloved fingers toy with the edges of his mask, and for a moment, it seems like he's contemplating something. The room is so silent that you can hear your own heart pounding in your chest.

Then without warning, he reaches up and slowly starts to peel off the mask, revealing the face hidden beneath. Your breath catches in your throat as his visage is unveiled.

His face is tainted by a network of scars, the skin tissue looking raw and discoloured. The scars extend from his jawline up to his cheeks and forehead, giving his face an almost grotesque and nightmarish appearance. Some scars look like they were caused by something sharp, while others appear more like burns. There were also some that seemed almost... fresher than others. His lips, once hidden by the mask, are twisted into a smirk that sends shivers down your spine.

"You wanted to see, didn't you, doctor?" he asks, voice low and taunting. "You wanted to know what's behind this mask."

You can't tear your gaze away from his disfigured face, and you're overwhelmed by a mix of curiosity, horror, and a strange fascination.

"Are you surprised, doctor?" he continues, voice now tinged with mockery. "Do I look like a monster to you?"

You can't seem to respond just yet, eyes still peering over him as if trying to discern the features of his face. There's this wave of familiarity that seems to hit you, as if you've seen those certain details before. A nagging feeling tugs at the corners of your memory like a half-forgotten dream.

You squint, trying to connect the dots between the disfigured face before you and the dim recollection buried deep within your mind. The way the scars twist and curl, the faint traces of burn marks𑁋it's all so eerily and hauntingly familiar. You swear you've seen those eyes before. He watches your expression closely, as if he can read your thoughts, and those eyes that seem to follow your every move, your every thought𑁋

And then it hits you. It hits you like a freight train on the tracks that was beyond avoidable. It hits you like a tidal wave crashing against the shore of your conscience, leaving wreckage to be abandoned and forgotten forever in its wake. It hits you like a thunderstorm tearing apart a peaceful, sunny day.

"Hui...?" is all you manage to choke out.

Images from the past flash before your eyes𑁋Hui, the young boy you once knew, whose face was marked with troubled innocence and a haunting vulnerability that had drawn you to him in the first place. You had watched him grow, had nurtured the fragile trust he had placed in you. You recall your early sessions together, hearing all the painful details of the fire that had torn his life apart.

His smirk deepens, and his eyes gleam with an uncanny satisfaction.

"Hui died ten years ago, doctor," he says with a cold, haunting certainty. "He died in that same fire that set this place ablaze. I'm sure you remember that very well, don't you?"

The room seems to close in on you, and the memories of that fateful night come rushing back like a torrential downpour. The fire, the chaos, the screams. It had been a nightmarish scene, etched into your memory like the faint scars that plague your arms from that very night.

But before you could respond, you felt something vibrate in your pocket. It's the end of your session.

FLASHBACK: 2013

The fire alarm rang.

It was blaringly loud, completely jolting you out of your chair in the silence that carried through your office. Your heart raced as the panic had begun to sink in, the blood-red light of the alarm painted the muted colours of your office walls with a surreal, macabre-like glow, and the acrid scent of smoke was beginning to fill your lungs.

You reached for the door handle, but your trembling hands fumbled, and it wouldn't budge. You tried again and again, the cold sweat on your palms making it even more difficult to grip.

"Wh-What the hell?" You shakily muttered to yourself, before bringing your fists up to pound on the door. "Hello? Someone help me! I'm in here! Someone!"

The panic intensified as the fire alarm continued its relentless wail as you continued to pound on the door. Smoke started to seep in from the edges of your office door, and you could feel the heat of the flames approaching. You coughed, choking on the sharp fumes that stung your throat. It felt like the walls were closing in on you. Fuck, fuck, what do you do? How the hell was the fire spreading so fast?

You were trapped. You were going to die.

The windows! You remembered the windows. Desperation drove you to the large window on the wall. Instinctively, you grabbed a chair and used it to break it, the sound of shattering glass ringing in your ears, the shards grazing against your skin and the palm of your hands, making you let out a sharp gasp. Blood trickled from the cuts on your hands, and as you peered down to the ground below, you realised that you were too high above the ground for a safe jump.

The fire was only getting closer and closer.

As you hesitated by the shattered window, a muffled voice from the hallway reached your ears. "Is anyone in there? We're trying to get you out!"

Your eyes widened as you stumbled back to the door. "I'm in here! Please help!"

"Step back! We're breaking down the door!"

You stepped back from the window as much as you could and away from the smoke, feeling the flames inching closer. Your vision blurred as you fought to breathe, eyes stinging with tears from the dry air.

Moments later, a loud crash resounded through the room as the door burst open. A group of firefighters rushed in, their protective gear making them look like otherworldly figures emerging from the haze. They quickly located you, wrapped you in a fire-resistant blanket, and led you to safety.

Once you were outside, an emergency medical team checked you over for any injuries, plastered up your arms, and administered oxygen. You were shaken, bruised, and suffering from smoke inhalation, but you were alive. Somehow. In some way.

Then, you found your mind drifting back to Hui. Did he manage to get out safely? Where was he? Questions swirled in your mind as you watched the firefighters work tirelessly to contain the blaze. God, he must not be in the right state of mind after witnessing yet another fire himself.

"Excuse me..." You weakly called out to a paramedic, voice barely a whisper.

The paramedic turned to you, concern etched on their face beneath their protective gear. "Yes, are you okay?"

You swallowed hard, barely getting your words together. "I was in there... in the building. I have some patients... uh... Do you know if they made it out? I need to know if they're safe."

The paramedic exchanged a glance with another passing colleague, eyes hidden behind their mask, before returning back to you and shaking their head.

"We're still searching for survivors and dealing with the fire," they explained. "We can't give you any information right now. I'm truly sorry. I'll let them know to keep a lookout. Can you describe them for me?"

You described what your other patients and what Hui looked like as much as you could, and the emergency worker took down all the information before walking away to tend to others.

The silence that followed was suffocating, perhaps even more than what you endured inside the building, and you found it difficult to hold back tears of frustration from flowing down your face.

As the smoke gradually dissipated and the flames were brought under control, the once-deafening alarm was reduced to sporadic chirps and the occasional distant rumble of falling debris. The scene around you was one of destruction, merely charred remains of a place that was filled with hope and healing.

You glanced down at your trembling, injured hands and arms and see the cuts from the shattered window, yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in your heart, and the fear and guilt that gnawed at you. You lost patients whom you had sworn to protect, had sworn𑁋no, promised to heal.

It was only when the search and rescue teams began to wind down their efforts that you realised the search for Hui had come with no results. All of your other patients were safe, but him. There was no sign of him anywhere, as if he slipped off the face of the earth.

A firefighter approached you some time later, his face covered in soot appearing both exhausted and empathetic.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, voice heavy with regret and defeat. "We've searched every area we could access, but we haven't found anyone else. The fire was intense, and... I'm truly sorry."

His words hit you like a hammer blow, and you felt your heart sink even further. You had dedicated your life to saving others, and yet it seemed that you might have failed to save one.

"Thank... Thank you for trying," You mumbled to the firefighter, nodding in acknowledgement. "And thank you for risking your lives to save us."

PRESENT DAY: 2023

The clouds outside obscure any hints of sunlight, and the overcast sky casts a sad, grey hue over the world outside. The room feels dim and lonely despite the overhead lights. You try to ignore that particular gnawing feeling to your skin as you sit at your desk, waiting for your next session with Moon Jun to start. It'll happen anytime now𑁋perhaps the more you anticipate will make time go by slower.

However your thoughts are interrupted by the soft knock at your door, and you look up to see Seokmin standing there. He offers you a warm smile as you motion for him to come inside, and you swear you see small ray of sunshine break through the clouds outside at the corner of your eye.

"Hey, how're you holding up?" he asks. "I wanted to check up on you."

You tilt your head a bit giddily at the sight of him. "We just had lunch break together, Seokmin."

He rolls his eyes at this, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. "I know, I know, but I... Well, is there a rule here that says I can't see you twice in one day when we're not working?"

Your lips purse together thoughtfully. "I guess not."

"Good." He grins, but it's quick to fade once he takes another look at you. "so... how have you been?"

The soft concern in Seokmin's voice is almost like a comforting hug for your ragged nerves. Normally it's your duty to ask your patients those kinds of questions, not the other way around. You offer him a tired but appreciative smile as he settles into the chair across from your desk. It's a rare moment when the roles are reversed, even if it's just for one short minute.

"You look tired," Seokmin points out, and it makes you let out a chuckle, even though it's tinged with weariness.

"You have a good eye, Seokmin," You reply playfully, and he blushes at this. "Do you want to know what I've been dreaming about the past few weeks?

Seokmin thinks about it for a second, then his eyes widen slightly.

"Is it... the fire?" he queries, hoping there's that small chance he might be wrong.

Your steady gaze meets his.

"Yes," You admit casually. "It's always the fire."

Or specifically, it's the fire and the guilt that you weren't able to save anyone, and it had been eating away at you ever since that fateful day.

His face softens at this, then he feels himself hesitate for a brief moment, before slowly reaching out to place his hand over yours on the desk. His touch is warm and reassuring, and you can feel the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry you have to go through that, I wish there was a way I could... you know, stop you from reliving those kinds of things." His words make your lips twitch upwards, and he knows he's done something right. He finishes your smile with one of his own. "But... you're not alone in this. Just know I'm here."

"You've been helping me this entire time, Seokmin," You assure him. "If anything, I should be the one thanking you."

The weight of all the memories and unhealed scars left behind still cling to you like shadows. But in the presence of Seokmin, the burdens seem a little lighter, the darkness a bit less suffocating. The room seems a bit less lonely as you both sit there, just like all the days you eat lunch together where you seem to look forward to seeing him sit with you, and the sound of the clock ticking on the wall serves as a reminder that time keeps moving forward.

Before you know it, it's as if you've been struck by a gong that you could only hear, and you knew it was time to move forward with your session. You take your hand away from Seokmin as you stand up, and he follows suit.

"Y/N, wait, um..." Seokmin stops you before you could leave, and you turn back to him. "If something bad happens, or if you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out to me, even outside of work. I... want to make sure you're okay."

His words warm your heart, and you shoot him a thankful look.

"I know I can," You say, while opening the door to the outside of your office. "Thank you, Seokmin."

When you enter inside room 610, you spot Moon Jun sitting on the chair that you were supposed to sit in, his posture relaxed and arms crossed almost impatiently. He didn't wear the mask on his face, and he appeared confident, somewhat smug. It was the only other chair in the room. The other place for you to sit would be... the bed. This isn't how a typical therapy session begins.

"Doctor, I was just thinking about you!" he exclaims excitedly. "Please, go ahead and sit down on the bed. I thought it would be great to change things up a little. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

You hesitate for a moment, glancing between him and the bed. Maintaining your professionalism, you make your way to the bed and sit down, folding your hands in your lap. Something brushes against your leg for a moment, you look down to see a sheet of paper sitting next to you, and a plethora of crayons resting on top.

"Please bare with me for the mess, I was busy drawing before you came in," he tells you, voice almost cheery and... delighted?

As you sit on the bed, his demeanour only raises more questions than answers. He appears unusually relaxed, and his eagerness is disturbing. It's unlike him.

"Of course, that's fine with me," You tell him casually.

There's a grin that spreads across his scarred face, and it brings an uncomfortable twist to your stomach, but you don't let it show, though at this point you feel that he can sense your nervousness, your unease, knowing there's history between you two you thought to have burned away in the back of your mind.

Yet it had all come back just like his reemergence back into your life𑁋into something more sinister.

"He talks to me sometimes, even though he's perished in the flames," Jun begins, grabbing the paper right next to you. "You remember his drawings, right? Back in that big, bright room... where beneath all those smiles of the other patients was just... hopelessness."

Then he flips the paper over, and you find yourself peering at a drawing of flames, and the uncanny similarity to Hui's artwork all those years ago cannot be ignored. You see the same vivid depiction of flames, the swirling reds and oranges dancing on the page, and the black lines of its remains. But more than that, it's the emotions that these drawings evoke, the overwhelming sense of dread, and the traumatic memories that it unsheathes. He's the personification of the fire that scarred you all those years ago.

You feel a lump form in your throat. "Hui..."

"I-I am not Hui!" he wails out unexpectedly, voice shaking with anger. His hand grips the crayon so tightly that it snaps in his grasp, the colour streaking across the paper. "Hui is dead, remember? Burned by the flames?"

"If you're not Hui, then who are you?" You ask almost pleadingly.

His fingers toy with the broken crayon as he leans in closer, his disfigured face mere inches from yours. His gaze pierces through you like a knife, and in the dimly lit room, the shadows play tricks on his scarred face, making his disfigurement seem even more malformed.

"The phoenix, don't you remember, doctor?" He chuckles lowly. "It's a creature reborn from the ashes of its own destruction, risen from the flames just like me. Rebirth and fire, doctor! You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

You sense the panic seeping inside you, causing your heart to race. His words send shivers down your spine, and you realise that he's explaining with a belief that goes beyond mere delusion, beyond repair. The scars on his face are only a fraction of the damage done. He claims to have risen from the ashes, taking on a new identity, giving him this motive of... cleaning the world with fire.

Cleaning the world...

...with fire.

Ashes of its own destruction....

"You..." You slowly rise up from the bed, the room suddenly feeling too confining. The door seemed like it was miles away, and you find your breathing shaky and unsteady. "You were... you caused those fires, didn't you?"

His eyes fixate and narrow down on you as you stand up from the bed, and a sly smile spreads across his scarred face. His gaze is intense, and you feel like you're trapped. You recall the sessions you had with him years ago that you thought were leading him toward healing. But now, you face a man who has fully embraced a twisted ideology.

"I didn't cause those fires," he responds with eerie calmness. "I simply set things in motion."

"You𑁋You killed innocent people, you were the one... from ten years ago... You𑁋"

"They were all lost, meaningless, and I brought meaning to their lives. What's so hard to understand?" he deadpans.

"You killed your family," You state. "How can... how can you justify that?"

"Hui killed his family, I didn't," he claims, crumpling up the piece of paper in his hands. "Hui started all of this, I'm merely just a follower. He was misunderstood his entire life, and you promised him healing, which you didn't fulfill."

The room feels like it's boiling you alive, and you're stuck in an endless maze of his twisted delusions. There's a sense of helplessness as you try to reach through to the man behind the scars, the one who once sought your help, but you fear that he's too far gone.

"Jun, this isn't the answer. The… the phoenix is not real,” You plead, your voice trembling. "Hui was troubled, yes, but violence is not the path to understanding or redemption. It only leads to more pain and destruction."

His expression only hardens as he throws the crumpled up piece of paper on the floor, gloved hands forming fists at his side.

"You think you can help people by sitting in your comfy chair, listening to their problems, and scribbling notes on a fucking notepad." He scoffs annoyedly, leaning back in his chair. "You're just like all the others, doctor, so dumb and worthless. You never understood... You say that you do, but you don't."

And just as you were about to speak, you watch him pull something out of the pocket of his patient gown. You squint your eyes, and a gasp shudders out of you when you notice what's in his hands.

A lighter.

"You people are just so gullible, all while you're thinking you're helping," he mutters, flicking the lighter on. The tiny flame dances at the tip, casting bizarre shadows across his scarred face. "When in reality, you're laughing behind our backs with your stupid cigarettes and your fancy degrees. You wouldn't believe the things you can find in a place like this. It's amazing what people leave lying around."

There's an arrow that penetrates through your heart, an arrow of betrayal, helplessness. How can he think of you this way when you dedicated your entire time to helping him heal all those years ago? How can he, of all people, not see that your intentions were always to provide support and understanding?

You can feel the room heating up, not just from the small flame but from the growing tension. Jun's eyes are locked onto the flickering fire of the lighter, and his words are plagued with bitter resentment. You attempt to scurry to the door, but he blocks your way, nearly shoving the flame of the lighter in your face.

"Don't you see how beautiful this is, doctor?" he utters in a trance-like state, as if the flame was hypnotising him. The orange and yellow hues reflect onto his soulless eyes. He moves the lighter dangerously close to your face, and you can feel the searing heat radiating from the tiny inferno at the tip of your nose.

Your heart pounds like a beating drum, beads of sweat form on your forehead, and your breathing quickens as panic threatens to engulf you. But his gaze only remains possessed on the fire, as if he's being consumed by the very flames he holds in his hands.

"It's so beautiful how something so small can hold so much power," he murmurs, voice barely more than a whisper.

"This... This isn't the way to find meaning or healing," You respond, slowly backing away from him, trying to create some distance between the flame and yourself. "Fire and destruction only lead to more suffering, more pain. It's not the answer, Jun."

For a split second, something flickers in Jun's eyes, as if a fragment of his former self tries to break free from the shackles of his obsession. But it's a fleeting moment, quickly devoured by his fixation on the fire.

"There are... There are people who want to help you. Don't you remember all of our sessions together? All the... all the breakthroughs we had? You were making progress, Jun. You were on your way to healing." You bring your hand up as if in defense, watching him closely as he steps the tiniest inch closer to you. "I... I want to help you, I always have. I..."

He stares at you, and for a moment, it seems like your words might be getting through to him.

"Let me help you, Hui."

But just when you think your words may have struck a chord, his face contorts into a menacing grin and you can see the flame reflect onto his eyes. The last fragile thread of sanity that seemed to linger has snapped.

"You failed Hui that night, just like you failed me." He chuckles darkly. "You couldn't save us. Do you really think you can save everyone, doctor? Do you really think all the patients you've helped all these years are any better off now?"

Now, you found yourself speechless, a tight grip around your throat from his words.

He laughs coldly, waving the flame in front of your face once more. "You're so blind, doctor. You want to heal and save everyone, but you can't save me, and you can't save yourself. I can see it in your eyes."

He’s getting in your head, you know he is. He's trying to loosen your grip on whatever reality is𑁋attempting to unravel in your mind that you were, in some way, responsible for the events that had occurred over the years, forcing you to succumb to the guilt placed on your shoulders. You've never dealt with someone so deeply rooted to their own twisted reality. You can't reason with him.

It's impossible.

But you refuse to be the victim of your own past just like you had made yourself to be.

"Junhui," You call out urgently, and the use of his real name brings a harsh, foreign taste to your tongue. You notice the way he flinches slightly to it. "That person still exists inside you𑁋I-I know it does. Please, let that part of you come back. I'm here to listen, to understand, and to help. No matter what you believe."

The flame continues to sway at the end of the lighter, yet his face remains deformed into that unsettling grin, but your words seem to have given him a momentary pause.

"You think you can bring him back?" he hisses, bringing the flame away from your face, stretching his arm out toward the side. "He's dead, doctor. It's too late."

And with that, he tosses the lighter in the direction of the bed, and a cascade of flames quickly engulf the sheets, the crayons, the drawing, everything. Horror sets in as you watch the fire rapidly spreading, consuming the room, and overhead the fire alarm screams into action.

"Isn't it beautiful, doctor?" he guffaws as the flames devour the room, eyes wide with awe. "It's so perfect... So beautiful..."

Nothing but Jun's laughter fills the air as he watches the flames lick up the once-white walls with a maniacal fascination. The flames flicker and crackle loudly, casting shifting shadows on the walls of the room. You dart towards the door, but the intense heat and smoke make it nearly impossible to breathe or see, and you cover your mouth and nose with your hand. Coughing and vision disoriented, you stumble and hit the floor with a thud, weakly pounding your fists against the door.

"Someone help!" You shout desperately, the words barely escaping your mouth. "Someone help! I-I'm in here! Anyone, please!"

The room is suffocating you whole. You can hardly even see where Jun is amidst all the smoke, yet his laughter still rings in your ears, fogging away all your thoughts. You keep pounding on the door, voice hoarse from shouting, skin tingling with heat, but there's no response from the other side.

So this is how you're going to die, You think to yourself, leaning back against the wall like you were accepting your fate, and the thought makes you chuckle at the irony.

Time seems to stretch into eternity. But just when it feels like all hope is lost, the door bursts open, and a strong hand reaches in, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the room and into the chaotic corridor. In the corridor, the fresh air is quick to fill up your lungs. You gasp for breath, your heart racing, while the fire alarm continues to blare.

It's Seokmin who pulled you from the room, and you can hardly make out his face from your stinging, watery eyes. He wraps a protective arm around you as you both stumble away from the dangerous room, mixing with the rushing crowd of staff and patients all being guided outside to their safety.

"Y/N, are you okay?! Stay with me!" Seokmin continues to pull you through the corridor, shielding you from anything that you might run into.

You only manage a weak nod, still coughing from all the smoke. Your mind is racing, and you can hardly tell where you were going, but you trust Seokmin's guidance as he leads you further away from the scene of the fire. The sounds of sirens and shouting surround you, and the sight of the smoke floating out from the room you just escaped haunts your thoughts.

When the brightness of the outside hits your eyes, you catch your breath and fall out of Seokmin's grasp and down to the ground. Firefighters and police officers quickly brush past you and into the building as Seokmin pulls you up once more to lead you in the direction of the paramedics and ambulances.

"Here, sit down." Seokmin places you on the stair of the ambulance and helps you out of your white coat before wrapping a blanket around you. "Can we get some help over here?"

A paramedic approaches, checking you over and providing oxygen to help clear your lungs of all the smoke you inhaled. Your heart is still pounding in your chest as you sit there, trying to process what just happened.

Seokmin places himself right next to you, scanning over your features closely. You look over at him, and he gives you a reassuring smile, pushing away some disheveled strands of hair so he could properly see your face.

"You're going to be okay," he assures you, rubbing some comforting circles on your back. "Just take deep breaths and try to relax. They'll take you to the hospital to make sure you're alright."

You give him a nod, feeling a bit more security from him than the blanket draped over your shoulders right now. The two of you sit there for a few minutes, calmly watching the chaos begin to subside. It didn't look like the fire damaged much in terms of the outside of the building.

"I'm going to see if I could help around," Seokmin says, standing up. "Just stay here, okay? I'll be back before they take you to the hospital."

Just as he begins to walk away, you hesitate for a second, before calling out his name, "Hey, Seokmin?"

He turns back to you, a look of concern in his eyes. "Yes? Do you need something?"

You reach out your hand toward Seokmin, silently gesturing for him to come closer. He approaches, and without a word, you pull him into a tight hug. You feel him freeze in your grasp, before his arms fully encircle you in return, tightening the hug, and for a moment, the world around fades away as you hold onto each other. You can feel his heart beat a bit faster than normal against your chest, but you don't acknowledge it, and neither does he.

Eventually, you reluctantly pull away from the hug, but you don't let go of Seokmin's hand just yet.

"Thank you," You whisper. "for everything."

His gaze softens as he looks at you, before glancing away shyly. It makes you chuckle.

"No need to," he tells you. "I'm... I'm just happy you're safe."

The two of you stay like that for a moment, with you closing your eyes to steady your breathing while Seokmin continues to hold your hand, and you can feel the tension in your body slowly easing.

Seokmin's smile is warm, and he squeezes your hand gently. "I'll be back soon, okay? Just hang in there."

With that, he leaves your side to assist the emergency responders, leaving you seated on the ambulance's stairs, wrapped in a blanket. Your brows furrow together, trying to make sense of the situation and all the events that just transpired. The fear, the confusion, the mania that gripped the lost man back in that room𑁋it all swirls within your mind. The lingering scent of smoke fills your nose, and you swear and you can still feel the heat on your skin even though the air was cool outside.

As you sit there, lost in thought, suddenly feeling disconnected from the world around you, you find yourself questioning the nature of your profession and everything you ever believed about it. Could you have done something differently? Were there signs you missed that might have prevented this particular descent in delusion? Was he right, and you were blind this entire time? Not just for him, but for everyone you've helped?

Were you really this dumb and worthless?

Or perhaps was it impossible to save him this entire time...

...and he was too far gone?

That hefty burden of guilt, both for your inability to help him in the past and in the present, weighs heavily on your shoulders. What's for sure is that this will forever be an image tainted in your mind, scarred just like the man who brought destruction and chaos to your life today, and that particular day ten years ago.

You don't know how long you sat there until Seokmin returns, yet when he comes up to you, his face appears disturbed and... paranoid?

"They've got the fire under control. It didn't spread much farther than the room," he informs you, catching his breath. "It seems like nobody else was hurt."

"That's good to hear." Your eyes roam over his features, taking in the tense expression to his face. "Is... is everything okay? How about..."

He sits down beside you, expression still apprehensive. You can see the flicker of concern in his eyes, and the remnants of the chaos from moments ago are still evident in the way he holds himself. His gaze meets yours, and you notice a small shift in his demeanour, as if there's something he's struggling to express.

Seokmin darts his attention around, as if making sure no one was listening in, before taking a deep breath and leaning in.

"They... They said they didn't find his body in the room," he mutters, and it's so quiet you hardly make out what he says. "It's... It's like he escaped."

Your heart drops. A sinking feeling settles in your chest. Dread washes over you at his words.

"W-What?"

another another note: sorry if u expected some sort of romance w jun (which would kinda be weird for the story tbh), but feel free to imagine whatever u want w our dear seokmin. cgrats on making it to the end of the longest oneshot i’ve made so far on this blog 😍🫶

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @rubywonu @etherealyoungk

#kflixnet #k-labels #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen dark fic #seventeen x reader #jun imagines #jun angst #jun dark fic #jun fic #jun fluff #jun x reader #wen junhui imagines #wen junhui angst #wen junhui fluff #wen junhui dark fic #wen junhui fic #wen junhui x reader #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fic #svt dark fic

[wqnwoos]

“i’ve decided,” you declare magnificently, throwing your bag to the side and kicking your shoes off. “to become a rock.”

jun, who’d been peacefully scrolling through funny cat tiktoks on the sofa before you’d burst through the front door, only blinks at you. a short moment passes.

“a rock?” he says finally, brows furrowed, but his arms open automatically, beckoning you towards him.

you fall into his embrace easily, curling up beside him and nodding into his shirt. “no work. no thoughts. no people. just rock.”

jun rubs a hand up and down your back soothingly; he’s understood your dramatics as what they really mean — a somewhat complicated code for i had the worst day ever, please just hold me. he leans forward after a moment, pressing a kiss to your aching temple, and humming against it. “i’d miss you,” he muses thoughtfully. “if you became a rock.”

“you could become one too,” you suggest, with eyes that droop and a voice that stumbles with exhaustion. “we could be rocks together.”

“sounds like a plan,” he murmurs against your hair, smiling fondly when you try to force your eyes open, raising your eyebrows to widen them. “you can sleep, baby,” he reassures. “i’ll wake you for dinner, yeah?”

that’s your cue to wriggle downward and rest your face in his lap, rubbing your eyes as you speak. “maybe we shouldn’t be rocks,” you yawn, eyes closing already. “i’d miss your food.”

again, your boyfriend smiles, patting your head. “we can be whatever you want,” he tells you softly. “just go to sleep.”

an / me if writing scenarios abt sleeping was illegal. n e wayz. wrote this because i had the longest day possible and was channelling my inner txt (i wanna be a rock!)

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot

#jun fluff #jun comfort #jun x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #jun fic #jun angst #jun imagines #jun scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen comfort

[junkissed]

happy ending

member — husband!junhui x f reader genre — angst, fluff, hurt/comfort word count — 6.6k synopsis — a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time. warnings — female reader, planned pregnancy, there's a big argument but i tried to not make it too toxic (jun and reader have a happy & healthy relationship i promise), swearing, there is a happy ending lots of fluff !! notes — requested by anon — this has been sitting in my drafts for months bc every time i look at it i get shy and wanna change my mind but i'm proud of how this turned out so i'm posting it finally! i know pregnancy fics aren't everyone's favorite but this was honestly very comforting to write so i hope anyone who chooses to read can find comfort in it as well <3 also the last time i proofread this was like april and if i try to proofread it rn i'll get shy again and chicken out so if there's any mistakes pls ignore! i hope you enjoy :)

you sat on the bathroom floor, trying to comprehend the weight of the news you held in your hand. you couldn’t believe it. you could? you couldn’t. 

after many months of trying to start a family with your husband, you had finally succeeded. the slim plastic stick with two tiny pink lines was the last piece of evidence you needed. it had been months of carefully tracked cycles, fertility doctors, and new positions that seemed too weird to actually do anything. but now, everything was finally falling into place.

you don’t know exactly how much time you spend sitting on the floor and staring at the pregnancy test; thinking, planning, and thinking some more. but when you finally stand up and place the positive test on the counter with shaking hands, it still hasn’t fully sunk in yet what’s happening. something you’d wanted for so long, and finally it was all right in front of you.

what do you do now? no— you know exactly what you need to do, and it’s a long list of things. the real question is, where do you begin?

you thought back to all the videos you’d watched over the last few weeks. somehow every social media algorithm knew exactly what you wanted to see, and it had given it to you in abundance; baby showers, gender reveals, those “get ready with me - new mom edition” videos. all getting your hopes up before you could confirm whether or not it had finally happened.

with your hopes high and expectations even higher, you were already beginning to plan how you would break the news to junhui. as your husband and your soon-to-be baby’s father, of course you wanted him to be the very first person to know, so you couldn’t wait too long to tell him. you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

maybe you’d get a little gift box and give the test to him before dinner. but, then again, it was literally a piece of plastic you’d peed on. surely you could give him… something a little nicer than that.

maybe you could buy a baby outfit and wrap it up for him. but you remembered he’d mentioned so many times about how excited he would be to pick out clothes once you got pregnant. you would want him to have the honor of picking out the very first one, going to the store together and looking through the whole section before finally settling on the perfect one.

what else was there you could do? bake a cake? make a crossword puzzle? buy him a t-shirt that says “dad-to-be”? so many ways you could do it, but none of them seemed perfectly right.

from the other room you hear the door opening, and hurriedly you stuff the test into a drawer, not wanting to tell him just yet. you need a plan first; waiting another day or two couldn’t hurt, so you’ll just have to figure out how to tell him later.

you flip off the bathroom light and stride into the hallway, barely able to contain the grin on your face. you’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets, and with news as big and exciting as this you have no idea how you’re going to be able to hide it from him for more than a minute.

but luckily you don’t have to wonder about it for long, because as soon as you see jun you can already tell he’s in a sour mood. 

you know it’s usually best to let him have some time alone when he’s upset, but not for too long because he starts getting frustrated with himself and won’t stop working until he’s exhausted.

but you’re still on a high after everything today, so you decide on being a little bit sweeter to him in the hopes that your happiness will be contagious and that it’ll lift his spirits, despite what was probably a really awful day at work.

you find him sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, long fingers pressed against his eyes trying to block out the light.

“hey, junnie,” you call out, sitting down in a chair next to him. “bad day?”

“yeah,” he answers shortly.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you hum, putting your hand on his shoulder, but he flinches and your hand falls away in surprise. he’s never done that before. weird. you try something else. “um, any requests for dinner?”

“not hungry.”

“alright. well, i guess i can cook up some veggies and leave them out, you can heat them up whenever you get hungry.”

he moves his hands away from his face and onto the table, sighing as he leans back in his chair. “can you just— leave me alone for a while? i’m sorry.”

you nod and stand up. “no, it’s fine. i get it. i’ll bring you some tea later then, maybe. text me when you’re feeling better.” you reach out and gently touch his hand before walking away, leaving him alone at the table.

it’s definitely one of his worser days, you note, so you retreat to your bedroom to watch more videos on your phone, trying to bring back your excitement from earlier. hopefully later he’ll be more open and you can sit down and eat something, and maybe by then you’ll have come up with a good way to tell him the news.

an hour passes and you come out of your bedroom to look for jun, having a question from one of your friends about the dinner you’d arranged to have together next week. but he’s no longer in the kitchen, so you peek your head into his office room and find him exactly where you expect him to be, trying to work himself to death.

you clear your throat before you enter, not wanting to startle him again. “hey, junnie, i know you’re in a bad mood, and i’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

“what do you want?” he snaps, never turning around from his desk. just from the way he’s hunched over his computer, he looks like the most stressed you’ve ever seen him, and your chest tightens with worry before your brain registers what he’s just said to you.

“i— excuse me?”

“i said, what do you want?” he repeats, still facing away from you.

you resist the urge to glare at him, knowing he’s probably under a lot of pressure, and you aren’t trying to add to it. “you don’t have to be rude, jun. i just came in here to double check about next weekend, minghao’s texting me.”

he finally lifts his head, slamming his hand down on the desk. “i’m really trying not to snap at you, but— jesus, you make it so fucking hard sometimes.”

you raise your eyebrows in disbelief, your voice lifting in tone. “well, i’m so very sorry to inconvenience you then, but i really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, jun.”

“and i don’t appreciate you talking to me like i’m a child! when will you get it through your head?”

his comment stings, but you brush it off. “well, maybe if you’d just talk to me like an adult instead of throwing a fit and hiding in your office then i wouldn’t have to treat you like one!” you’re starting to get tired of how he retreats in on himself every time bad shit happens. all you want to do is let him know he doesn’t have to do it alone, and he’s just… exploding at you for no reason, so you don’t try to hide the snarkiness behind your words.

he scoffs angrily and stands up, towering over you at his full height. “oh, grow up! you’re so moody all the time and you expect me to just put up with it! as if i don’t have enough other shit to worry about, i have to worry about what you think of this and that and everything all the damn time!”

you’ve never seen him get so angry like this, and it’s almost scary how completely different this jun is from the jun you know and love. “okay, jun, fine, i’ll just—”

“no, don’t fucking “jun, fine” me. it’s like you’re doing it on purpose at this point, you act like everything is just so perfect and then when it’s not you act like it’s your job to fix everything! you can’t fix everything!”

“i said fine! just forget it, i’ll leave you the hell alone like you always want!”

he pushes past you and crosses the room in two strides, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, his hand already on the doorknob. “i need to get some air. i’ll be back later.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying to look unphased but inside your heart is breaking. “you’re really gonna walk out like that? you’re just gonna run away from this? real mature, junhui.”

he spins around, and the look in his eyes is cold. “if i don’t get out of this house right now i’m gonna say something i actually regret.”

and in a flash the door is slammed shut and jun is gone. you can hear his car starting up in the driveway, and seconds later everything is dead silent.

you stand frozen in front of the door, unable to move. you can’t believe it. you can’t. what just happened?

jun has never just… walked out like that.

his words ring in your ears; though your argument wasn’t very long, a lot was said in a very short time and you can’t even begin to think about how to process it as it starts to hit you all at once.

say something he actually regrets? what the hell does that mean? so he’s saying he doesn’t regret everything else, the cursing and the anger and the pointed words that were clearly meant to hurt you?

minute after long minute passes and you realize he’s not coming back anytime soon. finally you drag yourself away from the door, dropping down on the couch in a daze.

there’s never been a time where you and jun haven’t made up immediately after an argument. sure, maybe you take a little bit to cool down in your own space, but neither of you like letting the tension sit unresolved for very long. so what was it this time that made him leave without even a goodbye?

so many reasons, so many excuses, so many words you could’ve said instead. you shouldn’t have reacted like that, you shouldn’t have kept it going, you should’ve just left him alone. would that have made him stay? if you’d backed down sooner and just let him work through it on his own?

despite all the what-ifs and the doubts in your mind, your conscience won’t allow you to let him worry about everything by himself without at least offering your help. you’re a team, husband and wife, and you’ll be damned if you let him forget that. maybe you trying to help actually made things worse in the end, but at least you know you tried… right?

it’s not until you check your phone and realize that jun’s been gone more than half an hour that you finally let yourself cry. you’d been so focused on worrying about where jun was and whether he was okay that you’d barely even thought about what might happen after this.

will he just… come back and pretend nothing happened? will he come back and still be angry at you? it would almost be worse if he was calm and acted like everything was normal. would he even apologize? would you even apologize? of course you would. both of you said things that were fucked up, and you’ll be the first to admit it if it means this whole thing can be over. right now all you want is to have junhui back.

the tears keep falling but you don’t even feel yourself crying, your face rigid as the tears continue to stain your cheeks.

after an hour you force yourself to get up off the couch and move somewhere, anywhere around the house to try and get your mind off things. but you can’t erase his voice from your head, the look in his eyes as he walked out the door and the way his shoulders hunched from anger mixed with exhaustion.

you find yourself back in your bedroom and you fall onto his side of the bed, wishing you would wake up to find that this has all just been a very bad dream.

it’s after 10pm when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand and you sit up in a panic, scrambling to see if it’s something from jun. your eyes sting from crying so much, and you blink away the remaining tears as you unlock your phone with shaking hands. your heart drops even further when you realize it is, in fact, from jun, but not the news you want to hear.

you let your phone slip out of your grasp, tumbling to the carpet with a thud. when he’d said he’d be back later you had assumed that meant he’d be coming back tonight. clearly you thought wrong.

tomorrow seemed so far away; too much time to spend alone in a house that was supposed to be filled with happy memories, but now all you felt was pain. you felt it in your chest and in your stomach and in your head and everywhere. the whole room was suffocating, heavy weight crushing down on you from every angle.

you slide to the floor and pick up your phone. you don’t text junhui back. you’re not sure anymore if he’d even read your message. 

instead you type in your friend seokmin’s phone number, listening to the line ring as you wipe the back of your hand across your eyes.

as soon as he picks up, he can hear the anguish in your voice and he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong, but all you can muster up is a soft, “can i stay with you tonight?” because you can’t bear to be in this house another second without junhui. 

and of course he says yes, and of course he’s immediately on his way over to pick you up. and of course he stops at mcdonald’s on the way back to his house to buy you something to eat, because you haven’t eaten and even though you don’t particularly have much of an appetite right now, seokmin would rather die than let you skip a meal, especially on a night like tonight when you could really use something to keep you going.

you throw your overnight bag on the floor of seokmin’s living room with a small sigh. in a haze you’d tossed in whatever items you thought you might need; a toothbrush, pajamas, something to wash your face with. 

he gives you space for a while as he pulls out the folding bed part of the couch and brings out blankets and pillows for you to sleep with. you don’t say it, but you really appreciate his help. he’s been one of your best friends for so long, and you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

you hadn’t thought about it while you were packing, but as you stand in seokmin’s bathroom you think about the cleanser you’d grabbed; your favorite one, the one jun had gotten you for your birthday last year and you’d never switched to another brand since. 

every single thing reminds you of him, and you push down a fresh wave of emotion as you scrub the foam into your skin, trying to wash away all your tears.

when you’re done getting ready for bed you find seokmin in the living room with a pot of tea. he was just trying to help, but unluckily for him, he’d made green tea. it was your favorite… but it also happened to be jun’s favorite.

and this time you can’t hold back your tears, and seokmin is sitting wide eyed and bewildered, wondering why you’re crying over tea, but he doesn’t ask. he just reaches out to let you hug him, and you squeeze him so tightly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets you hug him as hard as you can and lets your tears stain his t-shirt.

it takes another half hour for you to calm down enough to talk. you’d spent the time watching whatever was on tv, not really paying attention and instead playing everything back in your mind. seokmin had just sat next to you, quietly keeping you company until you were ready.

“jun and i… had a fight,” you say finally, interrupting the commercial playing on the screen.

“i figured,” he says, offering you a comforting smile as he mutes the tv. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“i don’t know. there’s not much to talk about.” you take a shaky breath, remembering it all one more time. “we both said some awful things that we didn’t mean. at least, i know i didn’t mean them. then he just… left, and he texted that he’d come home tomorrow. that’s it.”

you don’t tell him about the pregnancy test. you’ve mentioned once or twice that you and jun had been interested in starting a family, but you’d never gone into detail about it and you weren’t going to now. you still wanted jun to be the first person to know, even though you didn’t know when that might be anymore.

you tell him about other things instead, about your day at work and your plans for the weekend. eventually you finish your tea, and seokmin retreats to his own room and shuts the door with a quiet click, leaving you alone in the quiet of his living room.

it takes you a long time to fall asleep, but soon your exhaustion catches up with you and you let yourself rest, physically and emotionally drained. at least the silence here isn’t as bad as the silence at your house.

across town in his friend seungcheol’s guest bedroom, jun can’t stop tossing and turning. he’s fucked up, he knows he fucked up, big time.

why did he leave? he shouldn’t have left. you had been absolutely right, he was running away from everything and it was stupid and dumb and immature. but in that moment all he could think about was what the next awful thing he might say to you was, and he knew if he had stayed for any longer he wouldn’t have been able to stop what came out of his mouth. he was out of control, and immediately he knew it.

not even the worst day in the world could make you deserving of all the things he said to you. you were the only thing that wasn’t bad in his life; even on shitty days like today, all you did was care about him. and all he did was hurt you.

jun barely sleeps that night, finally forcing himself out of the extra bed at dawn. he’d been too anxious to sleep, too frustrated with himself to do anything other than think about everything he did and wonder if you were okay without him.

he’d already gotten an earful from his friend last night, and he knew he was still in big trouble. the things he said wouldn’t just go away overnight. in fact, they’d probably gotten worse by leaving them to build up overnight, and again he’s kicking himself for ever leaving in the first place.

he packs up his things as quickly as he can, eager to get home and see you again. on his way out the door, he thanks seungcheol for letting him stay the night and he apologizes for bothering him so late.

“i’m not the one you need to apologize to. you better figure out how to fix this, jun.”

with a straight face he nods, bowing his head as he closes the door.

in his car, jun takes the long way home, trying to find an open grocery store. he knows it won’t make up for how he acted, but the very least he can do it buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

he walks through the aisles, basket in hand, trying to think of something else for you. maybe he’ll get the ingredients he needs to make your favorite dinner tonight; he hadn’t eaten last night, though you had offered to cook for him and he’d shot you down.

he feels another pang of guilt at the thought, remembering yet another kind gesture you’d tried to give him that he’d brushed off like it meant nothing. it meant everything to him, and in the middle of the frozen vegetables aisle he swore he wouldn’t ever do it again. 

he’d taken you for granted, and he was so lucky that things hadn’t ended worse than they did. he could’ve said something truly unforgivable, or he could’ve even lost your relationship altogether. but he was still yours, and you were still his, and he would just have to work extra hard to make sure you knew how sincere he was.

he’d been a little worried that you hadn’t texted him back last night, seeing that you’d read his message but never responded. you were probably still hurt, and he didn’t blame you; still, he’d hoped you would say something back.

with grocery bags loaded full of ingredients for dinner and the special things he’d bought for you, the drive back home feels a little more hopeful.

he plans out everything he’ll do in the car. he’ll bring the groceries in and put them away quickly; it’s still fairly early in the morning, so hopefully you won’t be awake yet. he’ll arrange your flowers all nice in a pretty vase, and he’ll come in and wake you up with the best apology of his life and hopefully a really big hug. after the last 24 hours he really could use a hug, and he’s sure you could too. and then he’ll explain how sorry he is and how he didn’t mean any of it and then everything will be better again. yes, everything will be okay.

the first part of his plan goes perfectly. he sneaks into the house and when he’s met with silence he continues putting everything away, quietly so he won’t wake you up in the other room. then, he puts the flowers in a vase and with everything in place, he walks down the hallway to finally face you.

but when he twists the bedroom door handle, the bed is made and the room is empty. you aren’t there.

he frowns, leaving the room and poking his head into the bathroom, then his office. he calls your name loudly, hoping you’re just in a corner of the house and you’ll come out once you hear him. but no reply.

he goes back into the living room and sets the vase down on the coffee table, trying to think. you aren’t usually up this early, but maybe you hadn’t been able to sleep and you’d gone out for a walk, or maybe you’d gone to the store to get more cereal? 

a sinking feeling rises in his chest, and he walks back into the bedroom to confirm something, sliding open the closet door to check. your overnight duffel bag is gone.

he ducks back into the bathroom to check something else. your toothbrush isn’t sitting in the jar like it usually is. he slides open the bathroom drawer to check one more thing, and—

his hand freezes on the knob, staring at something in the drawer that wasn’t there before. he’s not sure it is what he thinks it is, but either way there it is, clear as day in front of him: a little white piece of plastic, sticking out from underneath a tissue. 

gingerly he pulls it out, holding it up to the light to see it better. when he sees the two pink lines he nearly drops it in shock, but he stops himself, setting it gently on the counter instead.

this is something special, something precious, and he knew he had to take care of it. you’d saved it for a reason; you could’ve easily just thrown it away once you knew the results, but you had kept it instead. were you going to give it to him?

he covers his mouth with his hand, still staring at the stick sitting on the edge of the sink. it was just a cheap piece of plastic, but to him it was the most important thing in the entire world.

he deflates when he realizes you’d probably been planning on telling him last night, before he’d blown up at you. if he’d been paying attention to anyone other than himself, he would’ve noticed your mood was happier than usual, your face glowing with contained excitement. he should’ve been paying attention.

there’s a sense of urgency in his stride as he dashes around the house, looking for any other sign of you, but it’s clear you weren’t there. there were so many places you could be, he can’t even begin to think of where to look. your parents, friends, family; hell, you could even have stayed in a hotel, alone and upset. he should’ve been there. none of this should’ve ever happened.

immediately he presses the speed dial for your phone, but of course– no answer. he calls again, and again you don’t pick up. he curses, resisting the urge to slam his phone down on the table in frustration. no, he has to stay calm. that’s what got him into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

he remembers that your parents are out of town on vacation, so you probably wouldn’t have gone there. you wouldn’t have gone to a hotel because you always lecture him about the importance of saving money “just in case”, so you wouldn’t have paid to stay somewhere. your sister is still in college and shares an apartment with three other people, so probably not the best idea either. 

that narrows it down to one of your friends’ houses; seokmin, who lives a couple blocks away, or joshua, who lives on the other side of town.

he figures seokmin is his best bet, so jun takes a deep breath and finds the contact in his phone.

“what do you want?” seokmin’s usually cheery voice has an edge to it today, and jun knows he’s picked right.

“is she there?” he asks anxiously.

“she is,” he confirms, and jun exhales, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “but she’s asleep still. i’ll let her know you called.”

“wait,” jun adds quickly.

the line is silent for a moment, and he’s afraid seokmin’s already hung up, but finally he gets a response. “what is it?”

"can i–are you sure? please," jun pleads. if he could just talk to you, just explain what happened and that he's so fucking sorry—

“hold on,” seokmin says, and the phone goes quiet again.

jun’s heart is in his throat as he waits for a response, and he stops when he finally hears your voice. “hello?”

he breathes a sigh of relief. “sweetheart. i’m so sorry.”

you don’t reply, so he continues.

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he starts, trying to put the right words together. “i shouldn’t have said any of that last night, and i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry.”

“thanks” is all you say, and he hates how small and sad your voice sounds. it’s his fault you sound like that.

“i found your test,” he bursts out, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

“oh." you pause, swallowing. "so… you know.”

“yes, i do know, baby. i’m so sorry, if i had known before—”

you cut him off, your tone suddenly rising with anger. “‘if you had known?’ so you won’t yell at me if i’m pregnant, but you’re just fine with yelling at me when you think i’m not? is that the only reason why you’re even apologizing to me right now?"

“no— fuck, no, of course not. i shouldn’t yell at you, period. and i’m not going to ever again.” jun pauses for a second, rubbing his hand over his eyes. he’s done nothing so far but make everything worse. “i really messed up, honey, and i’m sorry. i can’t say it enough. but— please, come home. i don’t want to talk over the phone.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall again. you don’t want to cry about this anymore. “okay,” you say finally. “i’ll be home in a little while.”

“thank you,” jun says, and the way his voice breaks makes your heart sink. you can tell he feels awful about everything, and you do really, really miss him.

“…i love you," you add, changing your mind at the last second.

“i love you, too!” he says immediately. “i love you, too, honey. text me when you’re on your way.”

“i will.”

he says “i love you” twice more before you end the call. you sit in silence for a second, processing everything before you stand up off the couch and head to seokmin’s room to give him back his phone.

"can you take me home now, please?" you tell him softly, and immediately seokmin stands up and hugs you, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"of course. let me know when you're ready."

half an hour later you find yourself in the front seat of seokmin’s car once again, this time sitting nervously in his driveway as he puts your bag in the trunk for you. you're still not sure if you're ready to face jun yet, but you know you have to.

reluctantly you unlock your phone and open your text messages with jun, your eyes landing on the text he'd sent last night that had gone unreplied. with shaky fingers you type out that you're leaving seokmin’s house, and jun replies almost instantly with a long string of heart emojis.

seokmin gets into the car and starts it, and you exhale and set your phone in the cupholder.

"are you okay?" he asks, turning to look at you. "because you can always let me know if you need anything. anytime, day or night."

"i'm alright," you say, taking a deep breath. "i'm fine. but thank you, seok. i really appreciate everything."

he smiles, shifting the car into reverse. "of course. it's no problem at all."

the second he hears the car pull up outside the house, jun jumps up off the couch, smoothing his shirt down anxiously. through the window he watches seokmin hand you your bag and close the trunk, giving you one last hug before he gets back in the car. he doesn't drive away until you're at the front porch, and with a deep breath jun swings open the door, before you can even knock.

you both stand there in silence for a second before he blurts out another apology. "i'm sorry," he rushes to say. "i'm really sorry."

you give him a weak smile. "can i maybe… get in the house, first?" you ask quietly, motioning with your free hand at the doorway.

"yeah, i— yeah, shit, of course," jun says as he practically jumps out of your way, holding the door open for you to walk inside.

you set your bag on the floor by the couch as he closes the door behind you. the sound of the lock clicking seems too loud in the uncomfortable silence that settles over the room.

"can… can i give you a hug? please?" he asks, and you stay quiet but nod. 

he closes the distance between you in one stride and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you so tightly and holding you close to his chest. "i'm so sorry, honey. i didn't mean any of it. i promise."

"i believe you," you finally manage, your voice a little muffled from how he's pressing you against him.

he doesn't say anything more, just holds you and holds you, and it feels so good to be home where you belong. there's a lot that needs to be said, but for right now you don't need any more words. you're just glad to be back together again.

after a while you pull your head away from him so you speak. "i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing? you didn't do anything wrong, baby. i'm the one that needs to be apologizing."

you shake your head. "no. i said some things last night, too. granted, not as bad as you, but…"

jun breaks out into a grin at your joke, and you feel your mood start to lighten. "…which is true. and i'm sorry."

"jun, you can stop apologizing now. i get it, you're sorry. you don't have to tell me a million times," you say, trying to laugh a little.

now it's his turn to shake his head. "well, i'm going to anyway. because i am sorry." you look away from him, feeling embarrassment start to boil up, but he continues talking. "i'm serious. i'll say it as many times as it takes to make it right."

you turn your head back to him, struggling to keep a straight face. "why did you leave, jun?" you ask softly.

he takes a deep breath, and still trapped in his arms you can feel his chest expand with the breath. 

"it was stupid," he says finally. "i left because i didn't want to stay and risk hurting you more. but i realize i did that anyway, by leaving. i was just… i needed some air. but i shouldn't have stayed away, and i'm not gonna do that again. i won't do it, ever again."

"i just don't want you to leave me," you manage, trying and failing to hide the crack in your voice as you feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

he hugs you tighter and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, gently smoothing your hair with his thumb. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. i'm not going to, i promise."

you don't respond, but you know he's telling the truth. the last 24 hours have been hell for the both of you, and you don't doubt he means every single "i'm sorry" he's said.

"so…" jun starts, and you tilt your head up at him.

"so?" you know what he's going to say next, and despite the excitement you had yesterday you feel yourself dreading this part of the conversation.

"you're pregnant?"

you sigh, looking down and avoiding his eyes. "yeah."

he hums. "but you don't sound excited?" he asks.

"well, i was, last night."

"i'm sorry," he winces. "do you wanna tell me now and i'll pretend this didn't happen and i don't know about it?"

you shake your head. "no, it's fine. the moment's kinda… ruined, already."

he sighs. "yeah, i know. i'm sorry i ruined it."

"i said it's fine, jun."

"no, it's not fine," he says firmly. "it's one hundred percent my fault. this is important to you, and to us, and we should be celebrating right now. last night should never have happened."

"jun, it's in the past. it was messed up, but i forgive you," you say, lifting you head to look at him once more. "it's not a big deal. we're okay now."

"i just want you to be happy about it," he says with a sniff. "we've been trying for so long, and finally…" he trails off, staring at you with watery eyes. 

you smile at him. "i am happy about it, junnie. i'm so happy, you can't even believe."

"did you tell seokmin?" he asks, and his brows furrow when you shake your head no.

"no, i didn't. i wanted you to be the first i told," you say shyly. "i knew you would want to be the first to know."

"i love you so much," he says, still hugging you. he's never going to let you go, never again. "do you know how far along?"

"no, i didn't go to the doctor. probably like two or three weeks, though, if i've been counting it right."

"wow," he sighs, a smile on his face as he stares off into the distance behind you. "i can't wait."

you watch his eyes, practically able to see the thoughts running through his head. 

after a while he loosens his grip around you, moving to swipe at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. "well—anyway," he starts, giving you an awkward chuckle. "i bought stuff for breakfast. if you haven't had any, yet. and i'm making dinner tonight, too."

before you can even respond his eyes widen, like he's just now remembering all the things he had planned, and he lets go of you, bounding into the kitchen. he returns seconds later with a huge glass vase full of flowers, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to hand them to you. "and i got these for you, too. sorry they're not the best, it's all the store had this morning."

"junnie, if this is the best the store had, then i don't think i wanna see their best," you laugh, holding the flowers up and admiring the dozens of bright blooms. "this is gorgeous, but you really didn't need to get me anything."

"but i wanted to," he counters, still running around the room to grab the gift bag sitting by the couch. "consider it an 'i'm very sorry' slash 'congrats you're having a baby' gift."

you set the vase down on the table next to you and take the bag from him, pulling out the tissue paper and crumpling it into a ball.

"i didn't have a whole lot of time to look this morning, but i found these," he says nervously, waiting for your reaction.

from the bag you pull out a miniature plastic hanger holding a set of tiny pajamas covered in little kitties, attached to a matching set of striped orange socks.

"i wanted to be the first person to get you baby clothes," he explains as he fidgets with his hands. 

"i knew you would," you smile at him, setting the empty bag and the clothes on the table along with the bouquet of flowers. "and they're perfect. they're so… you."

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him back in for another hug. "i love all of it. thank you, jun."

he grins, rocking you back and forth in his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheek. "i love you too, baby. i missed you so much. i won't ever do that again."

"i know," you smile. "now… you promised me breakfast, isn't that right? because i'm starving. crying is exhausting."

he laughs. "no crying anymore. and i did promise you that, so tell me: do you want blueberry waffles, or strawberry?"

❯ taglist | @foxdaisy @tinkerbell460 @seokmins @just-here-to-read-01 @blizzardfluffykpop @ny0sang @matilde111 @noniestars @noraehey @squiishymeow @pearlygraysky @baekhyunstruly @tenn87 @blowfishish @raevyng @aceofvernons @odetoyeonjun @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @highkey-fangirling @baldi-2 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @potatofrieswithketchup @wonuziex @stariightjoyy @strawberri-uyu @tigermoonbiss @diving1ntoyou @emmmm127 @hybe02z @sstarrysshit @g00dtimenotlongtim3 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @fr0g-filez @chocolatekdramakpopfreak @synthetickitsune @jvkeslvr @fairybinie @aestheticallea @miriamxsworld

❯ strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings

❯ if you'd like to be notified when i post, you can fill out my taglist form here: join my taglist!

❯ i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

#kflixnet #k-labels #🌃 : june.writes #jun fluff #junhui fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt angst #seventeen angst #jun angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #jun scenarios #jun x reader #seventeen x reader #g: seventeen #m: junhui #c: angst #c: fluff

[onlymingyus]

I Don't Understand But, I Love You

pairing; wen junhui x gn reader

genre; angst, fluff

warnings; mentions a fight and making up

w/c; 680 and some change

requested; no

a/n; i was listening to I Don't Understand But I Luv U and had this idea of what if it wasn't just about a language barrier

please consider supporting me read how to do that here

“Baby, open the door.” 

You sit against the bedroom door listening to Jun’s voice as he speaks to you from the hall. The tears were still fresh on your cheeks. There was still a heavy feeling in your chest, making it impossible to take a deep breath. 

Jun leans his forehead against the door, his palms flush with the wood as he waits for you to speak to him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it but he hopes for it. He hates fighting with you but sometimes you are both too headstrong and your tongues too sharp. 

Sighing softly, the man turns his back to the door after a moment of not hearing your voice. You listen to the soft thump of his back hitting the door before he slides down it to sit on the floor in the hallway. Only a few inches of wood separated you but in the moment it felt like worlds. 

“Y/N, I understand that you don’t want to talk to me. I know you are upset with me. I know why, and I don’t blame you…but baby, please? I’m sorry. I can’t stand this.” 

You can hear the pain in Jun’s voice. The way his voice trembles causes your shoulders to shake with your fresh sobs. You hated that he was in pain but you weren’t sure you could face him yet. You weren’t sure you could trust yourself so soon. You loved him too much. He was too easy to love and too easy to fight with. There was a fire in your relationship that created a passion in more ways than one. 

Lifting your hand, you wipe under your eyes and nose sniffling loud enough that Jun can hear it through the door causing him to close his eyes. He hated the sound of your crying but at least he knew you were there and could hear him now. 

“I wish that I could tell you that I understand everything we fight about and that you are right about everything. I wish it were that easy baby, but I can’t lie and pretend like I understand. I don’t think you want me to lie to you, even to stop a fight from happening…” 

You sigh, leaning your head back against the door with a small thump. He was right, you wouldn’t want him to lie to you. Lying would only lead to more fighting and worse. 

“But I don’t think I have to always understand you, because I love you and we share something so special that we don’t even have to speak to get one another. You know what I mean?” 

Jun didn’t expect an answer so when you only nod and sniff back more tears, he simply looks down at his fingers rubbing them together in thought.

“I think it’s beautiful when we have those moments baby. When it’s like this secret language that only we know. Neither of us actually needs to speak, just a look from you and I get it. I think about times like that when things like this happen…you know when I fuck up. When I don’t understand something…I try to think back to when everything made perfect sense.” 

Lost in his thoughts, Jun sniffs back his own tears unaware you have moved until the door opens behind him causing him to look up at you in surprise. You watch him scramble to his feet, his hands moving to take yours pulling you into his arms before those same hands move to your face pushing your hair from it so he can look over you carefully. 

“God, I love you. I’m so sorry. I know I’m stupid…” 

Shaking your head, your hands on Jun’s forearms you tug at them to coax him down until his lips brush over yours gently. 

“You’re not.” 

Sighing on your lips, Jun lets his hands find your hips so he can hold you close to him. The silence speaks volumes, one of the moments when neither of you needs to say anything to understand how much you love one another. 

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

#seventeen angst #jun angst #svthub #junhui angst #svt angst #seventeen fluff #jun fluff #svt fluff #junhui fluff #seventeen x reader #jun x reader #svt x reader #junhui x reader #seventeen imagines #jun imagines #junhui imagines #svt imagines

[haet-sal]

Tatsächlich Liebe (Love, Actually)//jun x fem!reader (smut included)

Tags: cute single dad!boss!jun with a crush, mini-wen involved, office romance, shower sex, public sex, sort of cheating bc you have a sort-of-boyfriend, pining i suppose?, jun with a crush, went a little ANGSTY, Bestie!minghao

You’re the wide-eyed, clueless-but-on-top secretary to Wen Junhui, and it all starts, with one new year’s kiss… well, new year’s fuck.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

Warnings: y/n is incredibly seductive and more dominant and a bit of a fuckgirl, anxious Jun, cheating, Guanhang from nct is here as your very mean and distant bf

W.c.: 11k

~~~~~

You might not be very good at your job. And you realize this when you spill Jun’s coffee for the fifth time since you started working (6 months now). That was 0.8 coffees per month.

Times 2, and 3: You forgot to cap the coffee all the way right, after opening it because you FORGOT to ask for the sugar and you had to open it, put a packetful in, stir and cap it again, and Jun spills it on his shirt on his first attempt to drink it. Your penalty: Jun offers a tight lipped smile and caps it himself. “That’ll be all, thanks, Y/n.”

Time 1: you didn’t lay the cup right on his desk. It only spilled maybe 4 drops. Yay. That’s a win, in the book of Y/n. Penalty: nothing.

Time 4, the worst of them all: YOU SPILLED IT ON THE DOCUMENTS HE HAD ON HIS DESK. You don’t even know how, but the full fucking cup spilled. Penalty: “I got it, thanks,” Jun said (thanks for what? He lost documents and three quarters of his coffee) “could you print these again?”

Time 5: this time the coffee didn’t even make it onto his desk, you trip and spill it on yourself. To be fair, you were carrying the lunch orders of the others in your office, so it was a precarious situation.

“I’ll go get a new one!” you called out, since Jun was watching from behind the foggy, half translucent glass door of his office, where he could definitely see you from the way he was angled, but you only saw a part of his dark oakwood table.

There would be a line at the cafe, it was lunch time. But you were determined to make yourself important and cut in line, no matter what it took. “I WORK FOR THE BOSS” would be one thing you could say.

As you head back for the elevator, Jun’s head peeks out of the aforementioned glass door. “y/n,” he called—you like that he never called you like he was demanding your presence, like a rude guest you were waiting on, but rather… softly. Jun just had a softness to him. “Hey, actually, forget the coffee, if it’s not here—can you go get one of those donuts with sprinkles on it?”

“Pink,” came a very boyish little voice from behind the door.

“Pink, with sprinkles, like Homer Simpson eats.”

You walk back to the office, and open it wider, so the little boy could finally appear to you. “Hey, mini-Mr. Wen. Would you like to walk there with me, so you can pick what you’d like?” Jun was very paranoid, but also a very at-ease parent. Meaning: he did let his son go places without him, with other guardians, but also had a terrible anxiety that left him imagining all the worst scenarios until the boy was back in front of his eyes. And yet, you still asked, because you knew Jun was busy. He couldn’t be watching the kid right now.

Hao—that was his name, ‘inspired’ by his father’s love for his best friend, although Jun would say he lost a bet and that’s all it was—nodded, but he wasn’t walking on his feet: he immediately extended both arms out for you to carry him. “Alright, buddy! Let’s go!”

Jun managed a half-absentminded, half-grateful smile at you, mouthing his thanks. And then the door closed.

“Donuts,” Hao says quietly.

“Yes, donuts! We’re getting donuts, getting donuts…” you sang as you walked towards the elevator.

.

Today Jun’s aforementioned best friend and trades partner was in the office with him, because he wanted to come see his little namesake. As Minghao talked business and life with Jun, he saw how relaxed Jun usually was, rather than be the ball of anxiety he turned into whenever his son was somewhere in public not holding onto his own hand.

“You actually trust that intern,” Minghao drew his conclusions.

“She’s permanently employed!” Jun says with a smile. “Do you want me to text her and tell her to bring you a coffee?”

“Where’s yours?”

“She…” There was no way to sugarcoat this in a way that Minghao would feel sympathetic towards you. “Kinda spilled it.”

“... You permanently employed a secretary who couldn’t even bring you coffee.” Seeing Jun’s shocked eyes (how dare you bring that up, Minghao! He was probably thinking), Minghao continued: “didn’t she cause that delay with that shipping company because of her other-and-frequent mishaps, and you had to ask them to deliver the papers all over again? Why would you keep her after that?”

“I don’t know,” Jun says, pondering on his systems himself, “I’ve been through a lot of short-term interns, but I just employed her permanently because, I don’t know, it’s actually became a chore sifting through new secretaries, and she just feels right.”

Minghao cocked an eyebrow. Pushed his glasses up to his forehead. “Feels… right…” Jun did not return any ripostes to the accusations Minghao’s raised eyebrows were throwing. “But I’ve never seen you trust anybody with little Hao this much.”

“Y/n’s a natural around Hao,” Jun’s praise of you came lightly, and he broke into a smile. “Hao loves her.”

“Jun… just because she’s good with your kid doesn’t mean she’s good at her job.”

“Give her a chance!” Jun says with a nudge of his elbows. “She gets my order just right—I swear, no one gets the sugar-to-coffee ratio as right as she does.”

“Maybe because she’s the one delivering it. You know drinks taste sweeter when you like the person serving them.”

Jun groaned. “Hao…” Suddenly red in the cheeks, Jun brought his hands to cover his face, feigning that he was yawning or scratching his cheek or something. But Minghao saw through everything.

“All I’m saying is, I wonder if she really is good at her job—”

The door opened, and you and the Mini-Wen peeked through, with the little boy holding two cups of coffee. “I got your orders!” you say. “Well, Hao got them! I’ll keep watching him, if you want?”

“But I wanna sit on papa’s chair–!”

You grabbed the little boy gently. “Papa’s in a serious talk with uncle Hao, do you think we can hang out at my desk? I have games!”

Minghao shot a look at Jun, as the two of you walked back out of the office. He reached for the cup of coffee with ‘Xu’ written on its side, handing Jun the other. “Anyway,” he says, “back to our ‘serious discussion—” He took a sip of his drink, and suddenly looked completely apprehensive, like he wanted to spit it out.

But under the light of Jun’s alarmed gaze, Minghao slowly swallowed it, and then placed it back on the desk. “This is… this is not my order.”

“She just can’t tell between everybody’s orders,” Jun offered. “She’s still learning!”

Minghao took another sip. “I think this is oatmilk… I can sort of get behind it.”

.

.

.

Today was Christmas, which was why Hao was at the office: he was going to be picked up by his mom to go to her parents’ house, where he would spend the holidays. Jun and the mom never really interacted, or so says everyone at the office–you had never met her. Jun preferred that the handing away of the kid be done through third parties, from babysitters who would text as soon as she had come to take him away, through secretaries, or even through the office receptionist. Whatever it took to not see her.

You’re not good at your job. You’re clumsy, distracted, inadequate, and most of the time you gossiped away, or at least listened to all the gossip instead of concentrating on your job. What you’ve heard about the matrimony of Jun and his ex was: there wasn’t even a wedding. They got pregnant, they became engaged, apparently the wife got cold feet before the wedding and just decided she didn’t want to be a mother and a wife forever. She asked that one of her flings take her away to somewhere exclusive before the ceremony—someone says it was to the swiss alps, someone says they holed up at an air bnb just out of town—and never even showed up for the wedding planning and the ceremony had to be canceled.

As the story goes… her family had been glad, thinking Jun wasn’t the right person to get settled with. Back then he was handling the up-and-coming company, but they didn’t have faith in his line of work—they did, however, want their little grandson, and the custody battle turned ugly, which added to why Jun didn’t want to see his ex or hear anything about them. Ultimately he got full custody, as the mother didn’t even really want Hao.

Whenever you saw the almost-Mrs. Wen, she was incredibly cool, hiding behind oversized sunglasses. You’d have an actual sense of respect for her, if only her mere presence didn’t make her own son’s face fall like someone had taken his sweets from him.

But today she had her hair in bunches, and she impatiently took the little boy into her arms, and thanked you. “Tell your boss pick-up time’s 5 p.m. on the thirty-first,” she told you. “Or sooner, that’s fine too.”

As she walked away, you were in awe of how much she seemed like Jun’s type: sexy, but cute, and cool. She knew how to dress, for sure. You wrote down the pick-up time: 6 p.m., did she say? And tried to go back to work. You should clear his schedule on New Year’s Eve, but in the office it was still a work day, although the general consensus had decided to have a party in the office, going til midnight. You didn’t know if Jun wanted to stay, since usually he spent holidays with his son.

You see someone in flashy colors sashaying towards your desk, and erect your head, expectant.

“Heyyyyy!” It’s Arin, from the reception. “Guess what?” she says, bringing out the box she was hiding behind her back. “Look! You have a good boss.”

As you took the present and the card—where it was simply written ‘Merry Christmas, Y/n’ and nothing more, thank God because if you knew just how many drafts Jun went through—you leaned over the desk and into Jun’s office, where you saw a blur of his silhouette.

You unwrapped it messily, with as much expertise as you always have on the job, and out comes three bottles of perfume. You press the communications button to Junhui’s office. “I got the presents!”

“That’s great, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Jun!”

Minghao, in Jun’s office, watched as Jun got flustered, blinking the shock away. “You… you never call me that,” is what you hear over the speaker.

“Damn. When did he shop for these?” You press the button again. “When did you shop for these, Mr. Wen?! I’m meant to be doing your shopping!”

“Uh, just back in November!” The red light of the device wasn’t alight anymore, which meant the conversation was over. (Jun turned to Minghao in the office. “I may have done this in September, and also had a whole personal-shopper ensemble help me.”)

“So,” Arin says, sitting on your desk now, “you got your boss giving you gifts! What about that boyfriend of yours?”

“Guanhang?” Your expression turned a little sour. “He’s got a big family, so we went shopping for like, the six of them back in November, but he never got one for me? I figured he didn’t want to buy anything for me in front of me, but—oh, bye, Mr. Xu—” Jun and Minghao had come out of the office, as Jun parted from his best friend— “but I never woke up to presents. I mean, it’s only Christmas. I guess I can wait until he remembers?”

Arin grimaced. “Uh-uh. Today’s the deadline.”

“On Valentine’s day he just ate me out each night for the entire month and said that was his present,” you say quietly.

Arin laughed. She made a joke about cunnilingus or something or the other, which brings you to howl with laughter.

“I mean, it is a good gift, if only he didn’t pick the shortest month of the year to do it!” You’re about to go on about more of Guanhang’s antics when—

Jun’s shadow loomed over Arin’s figure, and sensing his presence, she moved over.

“Get back to work, please,” he told her. “Especially you, Y/n, your… work…” he fumbled over his words, before settling with: “is inadequate. And careless. And messy. I… expect better.”

You pouted up at him. Jun looked away before it could affect him more than he liked. “Back to work, please,” he repeated, “And Arin, your job is at the desk, which is like, thirty feet away.” The glass door to his office half-slams, particularly loudly that it sounded like it would shatter.

“Must be in a bad mood,” Arin adjudged. With a sigh, she just left the remaining files and letters designated towards you and Jun at your desk. “Text me about the boyfriend things, alright?”

Feeling sort of shamed (you sucked at your job and you didn’t like being reminded of it), you silently go through the files, not even unpacking Jun’s perfumes out of their boxes. When Jun asks of Hao later, you just tell him he’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, omitting the part where he has to be picked up.

.

.

.

“Mei.” Jun pretended to multitask, going over his documents while on the phone, but in truth he was getting nothing done. What a shitty day to come into work. “Mei, please. Don’t do this to me. Please bring him back home, at least.”

“Jun, I’m not going to drive to your apartment, there’s traffic and I have an appointment with someone! I literally told your assistant the pick-up time—Pick. Up. I never said I’d bring him. Didn’t she tell you?” Jun felt like kicking himself, he looked out the blinds into the street, and yes, absolutely there is traffic. They’re closing up roads for the city’s new year’s party, fireworks inclusive. “How useless is that secretary?”

“Of course she told me!" He snaps defensively. "I’m just busy all of a sudden. Can’t your parents drive him?”

“Papa just had cornea surgery, Jun. Mama has to be with him at all times.”

Jun hits himself. “Fine, fine, can you leave Hao with your parents, then? Just go to your party—we’ll pick him up at home.”

“It’s not a party, it’s an appointment.” But Jun heard heels clinking, sighs, yelling to her parents, a car door opening. “Fine. I’ll hear from you on Easter or something, then.”

Jun immediately pressed the button to call your desk in, before the call even ended. Soon enough, you’re walking in, taller than he remembers you, but he distracts himself from looking at you (it wasn’t healthy for him to look at you, he gets heartburn). “Could you pick my son up?” he asked. “Take my car. After that I swear you can take the day off, just come back to bring my keys b—”

His eyes finally land on you, and there’s silver sequins peeking out from under the blazer. He leans over the table, trying to look at your footwear: heels that made you taller than Mingyu from sales. “Um… is that for the party?”

“I’m going clubbing!” you answered. “With my boyfriend.”

Jun looked away from you. The sequinned dress was low-necked, distractingly so. “Alright, well… Hao’s usual sitter will be home, so you can just ring the bell.”

“I know the code to your door, anyway,” you say. “See ya, Mr. Wen!”

.

.

.

The New Year’s party was starting, with the attending employees taking advantage of every resource in the office: speakers blaring music, the main lights dimmed and LED lights strewn across the walls so carelessly it looked like they were there by accident; everything was a total mess. There wasn’t a reason to stay there anymore if he wasn’t celebrating, but Jun couldn’t leave: he needed his car.

It’s almost ten when you come back, and as much as it was long-awaited, it even felt unreal that you’d come back.

“Y/n!” He didn’t realize how his anxiety had crept up on him, even when concerning you—he knew Hao was safe home, but you were his main concern. Sort of weird, that it’d be that way. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Bad news,” you say as you come into his office, basically screaming over the music, “I barely escaped when I came, but they’re blocking every street around here for the parade.”

Jun stood over his tiptoes to see the state of the roads: the parades were already setting in, and the roads were blocked everywhere. The only other option would be to wait it out, until it’s past midnight and everyone is back home in their beds.

He sighed. “I think I’ll have to stay until the end of the party.” He pulled out his phone, urgently texting the babysitter.

But Jun immediately turned into his usual anxious character, not being able to get home at his son’s bedtime. He paced around the party, sometimes paying attention to the music, although it was just grating for him at some point, and, not wanting to return home drunk, refused all booze and decided to chaperone the party.

He finds you at the hard liquor corner, during his many rounds around the office. You’re leaned back and sipping out of a full bottle. Jun hasn’t drunk in a while, because hangovers and being drunk in general made him unable to parent. He knows moderation looks different to everybody, but you weren’t it.

“... all I said was he spends a comically high amount of time with that girl from work! And he’s like, you’re always tailing after Jun, and I’m like, yeah, that’s my job? And then he says, I'm not his girlfriend, I just live with him, he can do whatever he wants.”

You take another mouthful out of the straight bottle. “What’d you say?” Arin edges you on.

“Told him that’s rich coming from the guy that was balls deep in my—”

Jun cringes with scrunched and avoidant eyes, as he comes over to take the bottle away from you. Setting it down on a desk behind him, he notices that the people around had started to clear out, not wanting a chaperoning boss to ruin the fun. They rushed to the windows and the balcony.

“I thought you were going clubbing on your night off?” he asks you, standing two feet planted in front of you. You were holding yourself really horribly, and ended up resting your head on his stomach without a thought in your head. If you had thought it through, maybe you wouldn't have done it.

“Fight,” you explained. “With the guy I live with.”

“I see…” Jun tenderly combed his fingers through your hair, but only used it to pull your head off his stomach. “Well, I guess office party’s just as fun, huh?”

You snorted as a reply.

“Last sixty seconds, guys!” someone yells. They’d opened the windows so the sounds of the parade in the street were full-blown blaring distantly, and you were about forty stories up in the air, the night breeze blowing with a vengeful cold.

You’re tired, your feet hurt and you just wanted to collapse into your bed. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you fall face-flat into his stomach, again. Your arms wrapped around him, as if you were imagining him as a body pillow.

You feel Jun still, and you almost think he’s just uncomfortable being so close to you, but then you… realize something.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

You’re suddenly more awake than you were five seconds ago. You stand up, and there’s commotion—everyone’s crowding around the window, yelling the countdown as loud as their voices went. You look into Jun’s eyes. Sober, clean, worried.

“Do you think we can kiss, Mr. Wen?” you asked.

Jun stilled. Palms sweating, there was a moment where he swore his heart stopped, before he remembered how to breathe and regain all brain-control functions again. It might be what people call ‘skipping a beat’ meets ‘brain freeze’. “What?” he basically mumbled, unable to talk very loud, but you heard.

“We’re the only ones with no date,” you told him. “Everyone’s partnered up.” It was true, even people without dates had struck up deals for a new year’s kiss.

“It–it’s just not a good idea,” Jun stuttered.

“It’s a kiss for luck!” Every step you took towards him, Jun stepped back from you until his back hit a desk. Pouting, you add: “I want to have lots of luck next year.”

You must have had a lot of those schnapps and shots from the reception, Jun concludes, but too late: right after he takes the steps backwards, you had pulled him towards you by his tie. Hungry eyes, if he’d ever seen any. “Y/n,” he breathed out against your lips, which came close to him with every passing second, “we can’t.” You pull him in even closer, controlling him by the tie.

You do whatever the fuck you want when you’re drunk, Jun concludes. But it’s setting him into a full-blown panic. “Y–Y/n.”

The countdown starts, and you’re right—everyone’s gathered at the high-rise windows, looking at the parade under the office. No one’s looking back at you, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to tell who you were from the mere blue silhouettes of your bodies. At best, they’d just be able to see his white shirt. His entire body shrouded you.

Three!

You’re in every single part of Jun’s senses. He can smell you wearing the perfume he gave you, he can hear the low hum of your breath in his ears, he sees you, he sees the flimsy little dress with the spaghetti straps that keep dropping down to reveal more and more, he just…

Two!

He just has to taste you.

One!

He’s the one that takes the step to meet your lips, and now you’re kissing. You taste like soft cream and feel like good sleep. His tongue darts out, and you welcome it in your mouth.

Jun let out what he thinks is a sigh, but really was more of a moan, a sound that went unsuppressably past his throat and vibrated across your tongue. He thought you looked killer, the spaghetti straps of your dress would sometimes fall just a bit that he could see so much… flesh… from the side, but he won’t think about it, he won’t even look, he won’t be that pervert, the older guy that wants what he can’t have because you’re too shiny and spectacular and just the personification of a starry night, especially in this dress—and he can’t have you! He needed to get that through his head.

You had a boyfriend, you were literally about to go clubbing with him, you were taken, so what was he doing, what was he doing?

When he’s panting post-kiss, he doesn’t know if it’s the kissing making him breathless, or if it’s all his thoughts tiring him out.

“Wanna continue this?” you whispered to him, eyelashes hooding your expression. Jun doesn’t understand why you’d want to—yes, he wants to, but why do you—?

But he nods. He’s the one that grabs your hand, and walks over to his office, and you’re following him. Every time he told himself this was it and there’s no way you’d go further, you do. What the fuck.

The office is almost unrecognizable in the dark, with only the fireworks outside to light it up. You locked the door, and he realizes it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

You push him against the window, and for a second you looked over his shoulder at all the fireworks. He watches them reflect in your eyes, and the sight of you is just haunting.

And then you’re kissing him, his hands are on you again, this time peeling the spaghetti straps off, feeling your bare shoulders, just the feeling of your skin—he hadn’t been with anyone in a long, long time, too busy with his son or work, and to finally have this–with the person he’d been pining for so long…

He almost rips the dress off you, but restrains himself. Your lips feel soft and healing against his own, and then they’re on his neck. He doesn’t even stop you to tell you you can’t leave hickeys–it doesn’t even occur to him. His nose is just buried in your hair, as you trail kisses down his chest—when did you even undo the buttons?—and, when he messes with the straps of your dress again, it just drops to the floor at your feet.

He doesn’t even have the chance to take your form in, in just your strapless bra and panties. You’re rubbing him over his pants, and he’s hard, he wants it, yes, but he’s also dead sober and he couldn’t even stay drunk on you that long.

“Wait,” Jun says, holding up his hand, perhaps to keep some distance from you. “You’re drunk, we can’t go that far.”

With a lick of your lips, you’re undoing his belt and flinging it over your shoulder. When you can’t kiss him the way you wanted, you simply pull him by the tie so he’s on top of you, pinning you down on his desk. You want to kiss, you want his hands on you again, but he’s hesitant, only coming where you pull him.

“Y/n,” he gasped. “Y/n, please—this is a lawsuit.”

You giggled. “I’ll sign an NDA, if you want.”

Jun sighed, heavily breathing. “That’s not the problem.”

But he wants you, and if you want him now, there isn't a choice but to give in. Your naked legs wrap around his waist, and he just trails his hands down them, until they reach your heel-clad feet. It’s so hot, the way he’s allowed you to entrap him.

Jun is fervently kissing down your chest, your bra pulled down, as he enters you. He’s so hard, so bothered, and wet with precum. So hot it could sizzle. You throw your head back and let out a pornographic moan, but he cups his hand over your mouth, wordlessly reminding you that you were only a wall separated from a whole party of people.

Jun hadn’t been this way with anyone in a long time. There had been dates from time to time, but never with someone he actually truly liked. Trembling, his hips stutter, so does his lips, which are moaning your name. He tries to be as quiet and composed as he could, but he feels like he might let the loudest grunt, alerting everyone outside. He bites down on his lip.

He hadn’t been doing this in a while. This makes him impossibly sensitive, and he might release, even if it’s just too soon. You sense it in the stutter of his thrusts and immediately slip off him, and he’s glad, because he knows he can’t cum inside you, but also it was embarrassing to have to tell you. You kneel in front of him, open-mouthed, and he could spasm from the mere sight, before you take him in your hands.

Jun hisses sharply. “Do you see how it’s so white, you were so wet around me—” He interrupts himself with a sharp inhale.

But you’re going slowly, as if you were inexperienced with your tongue, or just wanted to drag the torture out for him. Jun’s hand grip at the table behind him.

“Please,” he moaned. “It hurts.” When he reaches out to touch you it’s fervent, hot. You’re the only thing in the world that could ease the pain and quench the thirst. His hands wrap around your hair, although to him it’s more like you hair had come alive and entangled themselves all over his digits. Your mouth feels so—fuck!

He’s cumming down your throat. Jun whimpered as the sensation of you never truly left him, you take care of him. Until the last of it spills onto the carpet. And he’s just watching you through his eyelashes, tired and giddy. He speaks your name.

You look up for a moment, before your gaze turns towards the door. Someone else was calling your name.

“It’s Arin,” you observe carefully. “You should count to like, three minutes before you come out, maybe more. I’ll go first, okay?”

He wondered if you’ve done these things before, as you strutted outside. The lights were back on outside in the hallway, and he shrouded himself in the shadows, feeling embarrassed but not ashamed.

When he exits the office later, locking the door behind him, there’s a man at your desk, figure defined by a dark puffer coat over a pastel hoodie. “Sorry I missed the kiss,” he was saying.

“I got kissed already,” you told him, avoiding eye-contact.

Guanhang didn’t believe you one bit, especially when you couldn’t meet him in the eye. “Yeah?” he says. “Who was it?”

“Arin,” you say plainly. Guanhang laughs. He grabs your hand.

“Wanna go watch the parade? I’ll put you on my shoulders and everything.” He looked past you, and sees Jun, and offers a tight-lipped smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boss?”

“I don’t see why you’d need to, you’re just some guy I live with, right?”

You grabbed your handbag and strutted towards the elevator, but later Jun hears that Guanhang did put you on his shoulder to see the rest of the parade.

.

.

.

The second of January and business is back, you sit down at your desk after an uncomfortable subway ride and check a day’s worth of missed emails. When Jun comes to work, finally, you offer a smile, but don’t meet him in the eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, either.

“Good morning,” he basically grunted, clearing his throat. He knew it was impersonal, but he didn’t want to say your name, because whenever he spoke your name there was an embarrassing adoration in his voice.

“I’ll get you your coffee,” you told Jun.

You’re beating yourself up while waiting for the order, and you pull out your phone. These were words you couldn’t literally say to him, but on text you felt brave, hiding behind a screen. Not having to read his expressions.

You: hi, i just wanted to tell you…

It’s immediately read, although he doesn’t reply. He's waiting for you.

You: if you can just forget everything! It would be cool

You: what happened that night, I mean

You: I can’t be doing this, I have a boyfriend

Mr. Wen: we can do that.

Mr. Wen: i’m sorry, by the way

You: don’t be.

You: I liked it

Jun tries to forget.

.

.

A few days after New Year’s was Jun’s European business trip, and you were glad you wouldn’t have to see him after all. And yet, sitting at your desk two feet away from the office where it all happened made you feel weird. As all your drunk escapades make you feel.

He’d been gone since Monday, and was due back today, to land in the evening. But as you check in with him, you find out his flight’s been delayed.

“There’s engine issues,” he told you. “I don’t know, fingers crossed I make it in time before Hao’s bedtime.”

But an hour later he called you in a panic. “Y/n, fuck—what do I—I don’t even—” When you ask him to tell you, slowly, he tries to calm down. “The babysitter! I told them my flight’s delayed, and she can’t stay all night—I don’t think my plane will land until dawn. Now she’s mad I’m demanding too many hours, because she stayed all night on New Year’s, too…”

You cringed, thinking about New Year’s night.

“I don’t know what to do, can you go to my apartment? I already called Seungkwan, and then I tried Joshua, but—”

“Of course I’ll do it!” you interrupt. “You can’t call your friends, they’re busy men… I’ve got nothing going on, it’s fine. I’ll go.”

Jun sighed in relief. “You sure?”

You looked over at the make-shift dining room table in your apartment. Guanhang promised to be home for dinner, but he hadn’t come home at all. “Yeah,” you told him. “Just try to have a safe flight, okay?”

.

.

.

Hao’s crying, and the babysitter is panicking when you come into the apartment. You quickly explain the situation to her, and she’s soon excused, leaving you and the sobbing boy alone, but at least seeing you, who he associated with his dad, calmed him down a little.

“Your dad’s at the airport,” you explain to the little boy patiently. “You remember airports, right? You’ve been there with daddy?”

He pulls out a plane and asks if Jun is in a similar one, and you answer yes.

“But papa’s always here when I go to sleep,” Hao whined. “And I need someone to watch my back, so the monsters don’t creep up.”

“Do you want me to put you to sleep?” you asked. “Hey, why don’t we sleep in the master bedroom, huh? So you can surprise daddy when he’s home.”

Jun’s giant apartment actually had an office and three bedrooms, but the master bedroom was his, the other was Hao’s—with a little kid-sized bed—and he turned the third bedroom into a playroom, so guests were never expected. You decided once you put Hao to bed, you would go sleep on the couch in the living room, wake up and go home once Jun’s home, you get a day off, anyway.

.

.

.

Jun took a taxi back home. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours. He’d been microdosing on first-class flight champagne all night, and it only made him feel sleepy and unsharp. Plus, he’d been up for an entire day.

He’s stumbling into his apartment, not even taking his shoes off—if he sat down to do it, he’d fall asleep immediately—and only takes them off when he’s in his bedroom. He hears Hao’s little breaths and sniffles, and concludes he’s in his bed.

But when he turns to finally look, you’re there, too, lying on the blankets, not under them. You must have fallen asleep putting Hao to sleep…

Jun tucks you into bed, intending to keep you and Hao there and sleep in the living room, but he can’t deny the welcoming pliability of his bed, so he would just rest his head, on the familiar navy pillows, just a blink, just to shut his eyes…

.

When you wake up, it's because there’s something in your hand. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, to see that you were holding onto Jun’s hand, held over his sleeping son’s chest.

You flinch away, and with the rustle of the bedsheets, he’s awake.

You’d been sleeping, forehead to forehead and holding hands over the sleeping boy, like you were a family.

You murmur your apologies. He excuses you, and tells you you can keep sleeping for a bit, he’s going to take a shower anyway, he’ll make you and Hao breakfast and then you could leave.

You’re having this whole conversation still lying on the bed like a mom and dad, and he reached over, patting your head. Your hair’s messy, and still had clips in it, never having taken them off. He pets you as if you were something beloved—but you pulled away. Cleared your throat. “Um. You should go shower.”

He’s so tired he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, whole body running on autopilot until he wakes up watching the steam rise out of the showerhead. Jun lets the warm water rush all over his body, pitter-pattering over his closed eyelids and down his broad shoulder. He sighed. He’s travel-weary, and jetlagged, and everything sucked. And he was embarrassed, because of the way you had flinched away from his touch…

Suddenly he heard footsteps outside the bathroom, and despite the sounds of the water, he heard everything (damn you, expensive rich-people shower!).

“I was home until 10, and you’re the one that didn’t come home!” He realized you were screaming, and you were near the bathroom because you had to scream—it was the farthest from where Hao was sleeping, so a blindspot.

“Heng, I had work!”

“Don’t give me that work bullshit, how is there work at fucking midnight?!” Damn. He could hear it despite the call not being on speaker, and also through the sounds of the water. Guanhang could yell, for sure.

“There just was! I’m an assistant–I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry! I tried to call you last night—”

“Stop fucking calling me, then, fucking leave me alone!” You went quiet, which made Guanhang snap: “why aren’t you saying anything?!”

Jun hears you groan. He tries to tune it out, until at one point he can’t hear anything anymore. It must be over. Hao must still be asleep, although he bets not for long. Jun weighs his options, what he could make for breakfast for the three of you. He lets the warmth of the shower and the prospect of good food lull him into a another open-eyed nap.

Your whereabouts in the house were unknown to him, until he sees your figure enter the bathroom, through steam-mist shrouded silhouettes. He doesn’t say anything, letting you get ready on your own for the day—but you open the door to the shower.

Jun basically jumps back, but sees that now you’re in your tank top, the one you wore under your sweater, and… panties. His eyes don’t linger that long there.

“I wanted to shower, too,” you told him. He doesn’t say anything, half in shock, still tired. But he does watch everything, the way you peeled the pieces of clothing off of you so slowly, and then, under his gaze, felt strange and so cover your breasts with your arms. You look like a pin-up girl, which makes his brain chemistry go woah. You join him under the water, looking as if you didn’t even realize he was there, focused on wetting all of your hair, with closed eyes concentrated on the feeling of the water.

Can he touch you? Jun decided not to bet on it, and leaned back, watching you, dazed. He didn’t even understand what was happening.

You pull him in by the back of his hair, making him lean down to kiss you. As soon as that awkward seal broke, Jun’s on your skin, kissing your naked chest, trying to cover more ground than the water does. But you need his lips on your own, stat, so you yank his head up with a sharp, painful pull of his hair. He winces, but finds he likes the pain—like your coffee, everything you give him is sweet.

“This time you can cum inside of me,” you say raspily against his ears, which makes him feral, turning you around and pressing you up against the glass walls of the shower. He lets out a low growl, reminiscent of his days as a bachelor, before his ex, before Hao. He felt like he was just dripping in that youth again, being inside of you.

It doesn’t occur to him how weird it was. Why would you not even let him pat you on the head, but kiss him naked in the shower? Of course, he came to a conclusive construct in the end: Guanhang. Every time your own boyfriend disappointed you, you came to him.

.

.

The next morning, right before he set out to drive to work, came the text:

(2) New messages from Y/N

Forget about yesterday, please

I feel really bad. We shouldn’t have.

.

.

.

Jun would wait. Until Guanhang makes you feel unneeded again, he would wait. He didn’t see it as taking advantage of your sadness—in fact, it was a sadness mutualism. He was there for you when you felt down, and he… Well, he was always sad. You made it worse when you left, but when you were around it felt like heaven.

Guanhang spends nights out, and you wanted to limit your meetings with Jun to just that, but sometimes, you’d take his car to his apartment, fuck, and then he’d drop you off, right before Guanhang comes home from work or whatever he does. You never get caught—Guanhang doesn’t expect you back so quickly. There were nights you spent completely at his apartment, where you’d talk more than you’d fuck, and also play house with Hao, like a little family, and Jun’s never had that, that he begins to actually fool himself. He knows it’s insane, of course, but sometimes between sleepover nights and making you breakfast, he wishes you were Hao’s mom. He thought he’d given up on that a long time ago, but you made him revisit what it feels like to be young and in love.

At the office, you act naturally. You never even show half a glimmer of interest in him, you do your job. No one catches on. Your acting was genuinely convincing, that he’d wonder if you even liked him at all, but once work is over and he’s driving you back, you’re all over him.

He knows, of course, that it all depended on Guanhang, agonizingly so—you only paid attention to Jun when Guanhang wasn’t paying attention to you. And sometimes Jun gave you presents here and there, shopping trips and premium subscriptions—and one time you wanted to give Guanhang a video game as a present, so you siphoned off Jun’s money for that. He knows it’s wrong, you’re stringing him along, but sometimes he knew no better. He chose to know no better.

“She’s just a user,” Minghao told Jun when he finally admitted to it. “If she only comes to you when her boyfriend has off-days, I’m sorry, she’s a user. Nothing more to it.”

Jun knew you didn’t love him, of course, but it’s hard to imagine you completely indifferent to him. You were nice when you’re together.

“Either way,” Minghao says, “It’s a dangerous game. What if she extorts you?”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She has a boyfriend, what if he finds out and blackmails you?!”

Jun admitted to the possibility, but told Minghao not to worry. He was willing to go down for you, although he didn’t dare admit it to his friends.

But Jun let you in every time you knocked, until you became as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

.

.

.

“I’m taking Tuesday afternoon off,” Jun says as he lazily thrusts into you, “We’re trying to get Hao into one of those high-end nursery schools, next year.” He moved in you, and it’s tight and wet, but for you it just feels full, with no movement. You feel a little crazy.

If you weren’t trying so hard to cum, maybe you could have made a joke about how high-end nursery schools can be. But you just nod, peeking at him through scrunched eyes. “Uh-huh!” you squeaked. He’s moving again, and you throw your head back and moan.

“I think I’ll need you there,” Jun says. “I mean, I’ll need to look important and be hands-on, it’s nice to have an assistant there.”

You shiver around his cock, he’s moving but only minimally, and you need the full violent, bottom-out-and-thrusting-in action. You whine.

“Y/n? Are you getting this? I’ll meet you at the office, alright?”

You simply groan, pushing him back and trying to find… whatever was the pussy equivalent of ‘footing’. You try to gain leverage on the desk behind you and bounce, fucking yourself on his cock, and it’s still not enough.

Jun laughs. You are not getting it. You’re basically going feral from the withheld orgasm. Giving you what you wanted, he goes faster, and you nearly scream, gripping onto his white oxford in bunches, lewdly bouncing on his cock. “Want me to touch you?” he questioned, and you nod vehemently. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

.

There must be like 20 kids running around at this party. (“oh my god, triplets!” you whispered to Jun as you first stepped into the garden) Hao’s shy, and wants his father to carry him, preferably back into the car, but Jun refuses, making him walk. He doesn’t cry to protest, which is what you love so much about Hao. “Go play with Hoon,” Jun suggests, dropping to his knees to talk to his son. He pointed the familiar little face out. “Go on, make new friends!”

“He’s a bit like you,” you told Jun as Hao wandered off into the playpens.

Jun turned to you, curious. “How so?”

“He’s shy, but… he makes it work.” You’re back on your phone again, double-checking your boss’s schedule, checking all mail, confirming meeting times and topics. Jun waits for you on a bench until he couldn’t anymore.

He snatches the phone from you. “Work later,” he says. “I’m just like Hao, and I need you to be tailing me at all times so I can have a sense of security.”

“A false sense of security,” you say. “Wait, security from what?”

“The parents’ committee…”

So you’re the one that meets the fear-striking bunch of parents, rich trust fund kids breeding more trust fund kids, whose only purpose was to take care of their children. They might be problematically prideful and impossibly picky, but they made up for it by having an overly welcome demeanor. The triplets’ mother led the committee and also the waitlist to the nursery school, and as you pointed Hao out to her, she gushed over how cute the little guy was. Jun stands demurely behind you, not even accepting the compliment himself.

“He really is a sweet boy,” says the woman, “well it’s no wonder, when his parents are so cute!”

Jun looked at you, wanting to cut in, but he never speaks soon enough, and you’re the one that goes: “thank you!” with a grin. He doesn’t say anything anymore after that.

It’s winter, and when the party’s over the sun had set. Hao’s extra tired, from climbing up walls and running around with the other kids. When you look back at him, a few minutes after having strapped him into his little child seat, he’s out like a light. “He’s kaputt,” you informed Jun.

“Yeah?” He smiled. “Good… hey, I mean, when they thought you were his mom—”

“I hope you don’t mind!” you say. “I just… didn’t want to go through the whole I’m-actually-his-assitant and then they ask where the mom is and then the whole divorce story…”

“I’m actually grateful.” Jun’s lips are tightened but upturned in a little :] smile. “I… never like talking about his mom.” You nodded. After a few minutes of silence, he goes: “well, I mean, if they ask next time where his mom is, and you’re not there…”

“Of course I’ll be there!” you put a hand over his thigh, and squeeze. “Maybe you can keep saying that, I’m gonna be with you guys for a while, aren’t I?”

.

Jun’s the one that carries his son out of the car and into the apartment, and you follow him upstairs—he promised to make you dinner. As you get into the elevator, you text Guanhang you’ll be eating somewhere else, if he cares.

Guanhang: Where? Maybe I can join you

You: just somewhere with the girls from the office :) girls’ night?

You look up from your phone as little Hao wakes up, cheeks puffy against Jun’s shoulder. “Y/n,” he says sleepily.

“Hey, little guy. We’re home.”

“You’re home,” Hao says with a yawn, and maybe he just said it because he was half-asleep, but you stop in your tracks. You realize you’d been spending more time at your boss’s house than you do in Guanhang’s apartment.

You ran Hao a bath, and you and Jun bathed the little guy together, complete with bathbombs and bath toys. There’s sand from the garden everywhere in his scalp, which you patiently wash off.

“I want Y/n to be my mommy,” Hao says as you gently wet his hair, occasionally dunking him, which he’s patient to.

You let out a laugh, it was just awkward and you didn’t know what to say, how to parent.

You’re not the parent though, and Jun took the little boy into his arms, growing sterner. “Hey, you don’t say things like that, okay?”

“Why not?” the little boy pondered.

“Well, because she’s still young and she might not like—I mean, son, listen, motherhood—I mean, it’s just—you’re cute, don’t worry, you’re the cutest thing ever, but—you can’t just say that to everybody you like!”

“I don’t say it about everybody,” Hao says. “I just say it about y/n!”

You offer a tight-lipped smile, and Hao’s still not done: “I looove y/n. I like her more than mama. Mama’s mama, and Y/n is mommy!”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Jun says quietly. “I swear, I did not teach him that.”

.

Later when he sends you home, he’s still apologizing profusely. And then, he lights up with a smile. “It’s good he likes you, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah. I like that Hao likes me, it’s part of my job.”

.

.

.

Jun presented a little promise ring, a silver band encrusted with diamonds. Minghao sighs. “You cannot be…”

“It’s for Y/n!”

“I thought she wanted no strings attached?” probed Minghao.

Jun frowned, thinking deeply about it. “But…” he sounded as innocent as his own son as he said it, “we’ve come far enough that we can define our relationship. You don’t know what she told me.”

“What?”

“She said, she’ll be here with me and Hao. For a long time.”

“Jun,” Minghao says, sighing, “don’t… don’t do this to yourself or little Hao. Don’t play with someone that obviously doesn’t care about your feelings.”

“I don’t know, Minghao,” Jun sighed. “I think this might be it. I feel like she could… be in my life. Permanently.”

“She’s a user!” Minghao pointed out. “If she comes to you whenever her boyfriend lets her down, and takes advantage of you and your money because you’re needy with a kid, she’s a bad person.”

“She’s never asked for anything from me,” Jun says sadly. “I think you’re wrong.”

“She never denies your gifts, either.”

“Why would she refuse something I’ve already bought her?”

Minghao groans, head in his hands, his friend was not getting it—he’s just not getting it! “Listen,” he told Jun, “you are not asking someone that flaky for a real relationship. You won’t like what you get.”

“Why—”

“She’s still living with a guy!”

“You’re right,” Jun says. He sinks back down into his chair. “I’ll just ask her to move out, first.”

Minghao throws his hands up in the air and lets out the most strangled groan he’s ever made his entire life.

.

Jun can’t pop the question. It’s hard to just ask someone about their lovelife, even someone he considers to be as close as you. Of course he, with his small circle and busy life, thought you were close, and you knew everything about his life, but did you consider the same of him? He didn’t even know so much about you.

Plus, you never talk about your feelings. The only time you’d ever come close to that were the times where you talked about Guanhang, times when he eavesdropped, just to know what it’s like to be someone you loved, except it wasn’t him, and he could never imagine it being him.

So he thinks that’s where he should start: Guanhang. If you loved him, then you must hang onto him, and if he gets a straight answer about it then he’ll stop the pining. Plus, it would mean he has no chance.

He picked an evening where you were in your feelings. The sky’s a certain shade of blue, from all the citylights polluting the darkness, and it would never dim; you rolled down your side window and stared out, sometimes enjoying the velocity breeze but he just kept getting stuck in traffic, so the car was often still. “Y/n,” he says quietly, voice almost blending in with sounds of the city, “how’s Guanhang?”

“Oh, you mean the guy I live with?” you snort. You rolled your window up so you could hear him better. “He’s fine. Now that he’s taken up a second job we have less time to fight.”

“Do you love him?”

You gasp. “What?”

“Do you even believe in love?” Jun wondered. “I feel like you don’t really act that way.”

“I didn’t use to,” you answered honestly. You sounded so wise to him, he’d never heard you this way before. “But… one day, you know, Guanhang works at a studio, and I listened to one of the stuff he produced—there were like, 30 guys singing on a backtrack, but I knew immediately when his voice was in it. I could just recognize it.”

Jun’s heart clenched in his chest, and if he weren’t driving he’d double over. He hadn’t had his heart broken in so long… not since his broken engagement.

“And,” you say, “one night, Guanhang ‘borrowed’ his friend’s car and we went out of the city, to stargaze. We just had the radio to listen to, so we spent the entire ride driving past the suburbs screaming the lyrics to every song we knew. It was like a competition—and then, at one point, I stopped screaming. I just listened to him. I realized then that’s what love is? If that makes sense? Love is shutting up while you’re singing in the car because you want to hear their voice. And that’s the day I said it. ‘I love you.’ I’ve never said it to anybody before in my life.”

You looked over at Jun. “But now he’s just some guy I live with.”

Well, that wasn’t a straight answer. But he knew he could never ask you now. Guanhang was someone you’d always want to hang onto. With his ex, it had been black-and-white, she didn’t want him and he gave up. But Guanhang was always going to string you along, and he… knew he couldn’t compete. He’d never felt good enough for love, ever since his ex and the wedding debacle.

.

.

There’s a letter of resignation on his desk, a few days after that night. You had been growing cold towards him, nights where you slept over grew seldom and seldom until you just stopped. But you give him his coffee every day still, perfectly, even, without spillage, and it always tastes just as sweet, as sweet as only you could make it.

So it’s a shock to him as he read the letter, right in front of your eyes. “Why?” he demanded. He got so fired up he started speaking mandarin. “Wèishéme?!”

“I just…” you say, blinking tears away, “I just can’t do this anymore, and seeing you every day at work like we aren’t something is just...”

“Is it Guanhang?” he demanded.

“No,” you say. “No, I just… I just want positions I deserve. And I feel like I got here because… you liked me.”

“You’re here because I like the way you work,” Jun insisted. You don’t believe him. “No, I—I had this assistant that would color-code everything with custom stickers, but they were all pastel and I basically turned colorblind trying to read them, I had another guy assistant that kept asking questions and making me confirm everything myself, I had this other intern, right before you, that took pictures of me and Hao because he wanted to put it on his blog—Y/n, you’re great. I like that you don’t overcomplicate your systems, you sometimes spill things and trip and fall, but I don’t mind. It’s small flaws I never even saw—I didn’t hire you because of some… sexual ulterior motive. I like you. I like the way you work first, and then I just… fell for the rest of you.”

You looked conflicted, you watch him through your eyelashes. “I want to transfer,” you say, resolute but soft enough. “To Mr. Choi’s company—you know I’m more into that line of work, it’s what I studied. I just think a position there might be better.”

Jun tries to convince you to stay, but he was never a believer in his own self.

You leave, two months later, after treating him just like a stranger whose schedule was the only thing you knew about him.

.

.

.

Jun still has the promise ring, and it’s always somewhere in his pocket, although he hopes that one day he could just lose it, more or less accidentally, but the little velvet box always stayed somewhere in the pockets of his coats or trousers. He didn’t even know why it mattered to him, it’s not like you’d even touched it in your entire life. And yet… when he holds it in his hands, it feels to him like that sweet daydream that never became reality—he never got to touch it, but still, it’s so vivid.

Hao keeps asking why you’re not around, and Jun never knows how to answer. He explains the concept of resignation to the little boy, patiently, and Hao sort of begins to get it.

“So Y/n’s somewhere? In this city? And we just can’t see her?”

It’s supposed to be spring, but the wind still blows harsh and northern like the middle of winter, and it reminds him of you, because all the months you’d worked for him were so cold. He remembers you in your little trenchcoats and woolen things, trying to text with a smart glove on…

“Do you want to see her?” Jun asked Hao. “Maybe we just pay a little visit, for the last time?”

So him and his son are parked in front of the complex he always dropped you off, and he presses the bell for 3A, which you shared with Guanhang. When it buzzes in, Jun takes the little boy on his shoulders.

Guanhang’s waiting at the door, not knowing what he’s being visited for. “We just wanted to see Y/n,” Jun says, awkward because that was his rival he was talking to. “The little guy missed him, is it okay if he—”

“Y/n moved out,” Guanhang says plainly. “A month ago.”

But that was when you resigned. “Do you—know where?”

“That receptionist friend she had,” Guanhang says. “Moved in with her. I don’t fucking know. Don’t look at me like that, I tried to make her stay, too.” The door slams.

Jun calls the personnel office in his car with the engine on, as Hao swings his little legs on the seat. This was a revelation to him—you ended it with Guanhang, and even with him, and everything’s just so clear to Jun, now: you wanted things you deserved. You were starting over. You wanted to work for things yourself. He just wanted you back in his life, he wasn’t bad for you, he would prove it.

The phone comes through. “Hey! Good evening, it’s Jun—I just need to know where Choi Arin lives.”

“For something good, like a bonus, I hope,” replies the man working at the office.

.

Arin lives in another complex, closer to work this time. The apartment was on the third floor, and Jun climbed the stairs with Hao on his shoulders, once again, only for Arin to come out and tell him you didn’t live there anymore.

“It was just temporary,” she said. “She wanted a real place she could rent—I think Mr. Jo from security hooked her up with a free space in his flat.”

.

“Hey, Jun again… could you give me the address of Jo from security?”

.

.

.

He doesn’t know which floor you lived on, or even which side of the terrace. He tries door after door, and nice ladies here and there wanted to accompany him for the rest of the search. Then another man wants to see it through, too, and Jun entrusts that his son was grabbing the tail of his coat at all times, following him.

He’s gathered a bunch of people following him when he arrives at the new side of the terrance. He almost loses the motivation to go around asking a whole neighborhood if they knew you, when…

He could hear music, faintly coming from a ground-floor window. He followed it, knowing the melody well—you would hum it all the time, it was your favorite.

He knocks on the door it leads him to.

You come out with a bowed head, and you’re more beautiful than he remembers, although you looked even more tired. If you were living here but working at Seungcheol’s company, you must be waking up so early just to make it there at 9 a.m. Jun reaches out to touch you, as if he had been fooled and you’re just a mirage.

“Y/n!”

You extend your arms to the little boy, and he climbs up. Your laughter is light. “Hao! What are you guys—Jun? What is this?”

He doesn’t know how to start this. He fumbled around with the pockets of his paddington coat, and there were just too many pockets. After going through each of six pockets twice and coming up with just stray used tissues and car keys, he checks his pants, and there it was. He pulls out the little velvet box; a bunch of people gasp. You just mumble, “he wouldn’t.” But you don’t know if he would.

But there is a ring, although at closer inspection you notice it’s not for engagements. A simple promise ring, which you putt out to inspect, and ‘1.1. 00:00’ is engraved on the inside.

Your first kiss. You look up at him, and just when you’re about to speak, Mini-Wen wraps his arms around you. “Missed you, Y/n.”

“Y/n,” Jun starts, “I just—I—I wanted to ask you to be mine. But I was just—I was just afraid. I’ve had this phobia against relationships ever since Hao’s mom left me, and…” (the crowd ‘aww’ed) “I was afraid of getting close to someone again, if they might break my heart, and well, you did–you did, you left. But… I found out it doesn’t even matter. I’m happy to be loving you and getting my heart broken by you. I think you’ve got your fair share of broken hearts, too, but if you trust me—” you’re looking up at him with a brand new look in your eyes. He falters, splutters, as he always did when you look at him. “I can promise you I’ll always be here for you. I’ll keep your place for you, I’ll always protect you, I’ll—”

With Hao still in your arms, you step in and kiss Jun. For a second he forgets to close his eyes, and he just watches you, lips sinking into his. He knows exactly what he feels for you, except he’s just too scared to say what it is.

“Did my speech move you into kissing me?” He murmured against your lips.

“No, but there’s just too many people watching I felt the need to perform.”

Hao plants a kiss on your cheek, and suddenly you and Jun are kissing him back, on each cheek—Jun had imagined showing his son love with this, but it was only you that made it possible.

He brings you and Hao closer into him, warm and padded inside his coat.

“I think I was too preoccupied to tell you on New Year’s,” Jun says. “I hope you have a good year, Y/n.”

#jun x reader #jun scenarios #jun smut #jun angst #junhui x reader #junhui smut #junhui fic #svt fic #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #jun imagines #junhui imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #jun fluff #junhui fluff #seventeen oneshot

[jejuboo-s]

Silent Boarding Gate [STAGE 1: DENIAL]

[PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5]

Pairing: Design Major!F. Reader x Model!W. Junhui

Genre: Fluff, Smut, & Angst (Fluff will be more prominent as the parts progress)

Synopsis: In which you meet Wen Junhui, an exchange student from China, along the way of accomplishing your dreams. He was a great friend, but you got attached to him. Maybe a little too much.

Warning: Slowburn, arguing, explicit language, Jun gets a little hostile in said argument, masturbation, lots and lots and lots of reader second guessing herself D:

Taglist in the comments due to so much love and support :)

(Please let me know through asks or the comments if you’d like to be in the taglist, @s not mentioned are not able to be tagged ^3^)

You and Jun were a notorious duo—well, more like a rumored couple (which would most likely never happen), in many of your classes. You certainly didn’t mind the fake rumors, but he certainly did.

You plopped yourself on your couch next to your best friend, Junhui; and whilst doing so, you managed to spill a bit of the popcorn from the bowl in your grasp into Jun’s lap.

“____—“ He whined, much like a baby. “I told you you should’ve gotten a bigger bowl, or atleast look like you care that you ruined my favorite stay-at-home sweats with some cheap butter!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes at him playfully, “Shut up you big baby,” Before you could get out the next pair of words, he flicked you square in the forehead. “Hey! Leave me alone Junnie, exams are over—this is my, no, our personal way of bonding.”

“Fine fine, just for the sake of bonding.” He sighed, putting emphasis on the ‘bonding’ just to push your buttons a little further.

And you were right, Jun was just being annoying—as he usually is. Yesterday was exam day, and you had exceeded your own expectations, whereas Jun, well, you guys hadn’t really brought up his score yet. But, either way, it was your final exam and you were proud to have ended your last semester on a good note.

“Hey, if you wanna bond, you have to at least do the bare minimum and talk.” Jun ruffled your hair, and you mumbled profanities to yourself.

“Mr. Wen Junhui, respectfully, shut up.” You scoffed, patting your messy hair back into place. “Can we watch the new Little Mermaid movie? Please?”

“What? No! I thought we were watching Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse! You agreed to it!” He whined.

“No, we're watching the Little Mermaid and that’s that!”

“Aweeeee… How come you always get what you want?”

Wiping his hands with a cloth, Jun sighs as he sees his hands, yet again, sweaty. Today’s packing day—and technically, he’s not supposed to be moving yet, however, he has other plans.

He places the last of his boxes outside his and Minghao’s dorm, internally whining when he hears very familiar keys jingling, the noise more prominent each and every step.

Looking up, Jun sees someone he’d usually be more than elated to see—however, right now, he wishes they’d never cared for him in the first place. After all, this was the right thing to do.

“Huh, Junnie?” You stopped, with a somewhat confused and positive look on your face. God how he wishes that he’d never had to tell you. “Why’re you already moving? Are you really that eager—“

“Shut up with your teasing, I’m tired of it.” He bit his lip—did I really say that? “I’m not in the mood for any of your antics right now.”

Jun looks up from the boxes giving you an unfamiliar and more hostile look, watching your soft expression form into something more apprehensive. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, I wish I didn’t have to watch the beautiful laugh on her face fade.

You put your hand on his wrist, caressing the soft and supple skin with your thumb to calm him down, until he shoves you away and pulls back, that is.

“What?… Jun, why are you so hostile today, is something up? You know you could always tell me—“

“No, I told you to shut up. I don’t wanna tell you shit, and I won’t ever tell you shit again if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

You slowly back away, trying to hide the fact a huge lump in your throat was building, and that yout eyes were starting to water. This was what he wanted, it’s what you didn’t expect. It was better to hurt you now than to hurt you later.

“Just leave, I don’t wanna see your face again. Matter of fact—I’m moving to China, so I won’t have to see you ever again.”

“Huh?”

Jun coldly walks back into his dorm, slamming the door to emphasize his so-called hatred. Behind him, he hears yelling from you that he tried to ignore, but what you says really gets in his head.

“Okay, well fuck you too! I don’t even care if you're going to China, I don’t care about you!”

He rests his head on the wall and mumbles,

“乌云无语晕开 [The love I didn’t say then].”

Great, just great, you thought. You scrolled on Snapchat, and looked at everybody's stories. They were all a stupidly clear video of you and Jun arguing—captioned “The infamous couple, broken up?”

And even worse of all, everybody was contacting you to see if you were okay, everyone was claiming Jun was in the wrong, even though you knew damn well they’d probably been texting Jun earlier.

Throwing your phone down onto your bed just when you thought that call was gonna be the last of them, you feel vibration from under your bed’s covers. I wonder who it is this time, you thought.

Taking your phone hesitantly, your breath hitched for a second—it was Minghao.

Minghao was Jun’s best friend since childhood, brother from another mother, basically. And since you are, well, were Jun’s best friend, it wasn’t rare for you to bond at times when Jun wasn’t with you guys.

Minghao and you bonded about things that Jun wouldn’t understand half of the time. But it made him seem like an even more reliable friend, it made it seem like he didn’t stick around just because you were acquainted with Jun; but because you were a good person.

Which is why you were semi-surprised about seeing the incoming call from him, and equally as hesitant to pick it up. But, you didn’t want to ruin yet another friendship so, why not?

Silence rang through the line as you picked up the phone.

“Hey Jun. I’m gonna go use the bathroom, give me a second.”

You bit your lip. Oh he lives with Jun now, I figured. You shrugged it off, you knew Minghao wasn’t the type to secretly tell Jun all your secrets. Right?

“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” He whispered. “You know we live in an apartment together since we moved together, I mean, it’s logical. But I don’t want him to hear what you have to say.”

You hummed in response, hoping the phone would pick up the noise. “So, what exactly did you wanna ask me, Hao?”

“What exactly happened between you and Jun? One day, you guys are best friends who literally have toothbrushes in each other's dorms—and the next you guys are people who’ve never met!”

“Sorry, it’s just all so confusing to me. Jun’s acting more distant and I can’t stand it. And so are you, you would’ve called me by now.” Minghao audibly sighed through the phone.

“It might sound hypocritical but, I just came to check up on him while he’s moving a couple of boxes out. I start joking around, and he just seems to be pissed off with me and,“ A tear falls down your cheek. “He just says a bunch of shit like he doesn’t wanna see me again and he hates me, man, that stuck with me.”

You could hear the surprise in Minghao’s voice when he talks. “Oh, really? He’s been acting like he was the one who got wronged. I’m sorry that happened to you, ____.”

Your hand grew tired of holding the phone up to your ear, so you decided to plop on your bed, phone next to ear. “It’s fine really, Hao. You’re not at fault, you don’t even deserve to be caught up in all this.”

“____, listen.” It caught you by surprise he’d dropped the honorifics, but you didn’t show it. “It was my choice to get caught up in this drama you two have. I could’ve just not called you or ignored Jun.”

“Don’t put the blame on yourself. I know how close you were to Jun and just because you were close and you guys fell apart doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Hell, it’s Jun’s fault and I can admit it as his best friend.”

Choked sobs were heard through the line, and Minghao knew better than to keep talking. “Thank you Hao.” You whispered. “I think I need some time to think for myself though, I’ll call you later. Bye-bye.”

The line fell.

It’d been a couple of months since you and Jun stopped being friends. You had gotten over him, for the most part, of course you still thought of him from time to time and the thoughts would eat you up—you were still better than before, until today.

You were flipping through your favorite TV channels, great every single one’s on an ad break, you thought. And to your horror, the last one, which had usually had to do with modeling, design, photography, etc. had been airing a fashion week runway. And guess who was walking on that fucking runway.

Wen Junhui.

You felt your throat getting drier and drier by the second. However you sat felt uncomfortable, the temperature of the room felt humid and unbearable. Everything didn’t seem right.

His outfit seemed uncomfortable yet it suited his facial features so perfectly, and oh, he dyed his hair blonde? He looked so much more different, and the truth was, you were so fucking into it. You couldn’t bring yourself to switch the channels, you were just waiting for him to cycle back onto the runway to see his next outfit.

The next outfit looked ethereal on him. Since when did he have abs, and when did they get so toned? It was a bold choice for the stylists to not conceal his eyebags, you thought, but it made him so much more appealing and attractive, you hated to admit.

You decided to finally shut off the TV but now you were all hot and bothered. You thought it was ridiculous, ridiculous that you were all shaken up for an ex-best friend. For an ex-crush.

Throwing yourself on your bed, you sighed, rubbing your thighs. Opening Instagram, you searched up the familiar name of Wen Junhui. This is so wrong, you cried out.

Pulling down your shorts, you trailed your fingers up your shirt, down to your breasts, to your stomach and finally to where your panties sat. You moaned at how wet you were.

Two of your fingers dipped down into your sopping hole, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your mouth formed into an O and soft and quiet little gasps came from your mouth.

This is so wrong. So fucking wrong. And you knew it. There was a pit deep in your stomach, and no, it wasn’t the pit in your stomach that you’d normally get from pleasuring yourself. It was from guilt. Pure guilt.

You knew it was wrong, but you kept going, moans growing louder by each and every curl of your finger. Tears bubbling at your eyes, falling onto your pillow thinking if you guys had never argued that day, maybe it’d be his fingers in your pussy right now. Not your own.

“Junnie…” A nickname that now feels foreign slips past your lips, salty tears staining your lips much like a sign to not chant his name. With enough twists of your fingers, you manage to wrap yourself undone, chest rising up and falling back down with each breath.

Sitting up, you sighed. The reality of it all hit you like a truck. You’d never be able to see or talk to Jun ever again. Whether you liked it or not. He was a famous model and you were just some nerd who did graphic design for a living.

But even with all taken, it was still reasonable to have some hope. Right?

jejuboo-s 2023

@itzxvaxella @svtup @nctsslut @dulcecreatura @hertatsu @baekshunnie @staygenezy @ace-of-angels22 @bittersweetells @varverat @areenalight @rzrbladelmnade @whitenana @yukkaaaaa @wonushuasworld @arianabintesharif @lovelyhyuka14 @jeanjacketjesus @emilyhadenbaker @yoonna22 @ni-aaaaaaa @1ntaktak @believeinmagical25 @lostsoul23 @junhour @jaemin9yu @chiefshoebanditalien @dixirwe @muawwo @sleepyyizzyy @jiniesclub @anna-357 @sugar8 @seokcrafts @svtgivesmesvts @cowmilk0 @mcpl @jackeline3302 @snsdswrld @booitschoco @jnhthy @woohui @imbnpreader @pakaosta @anama34 @rikiswife05 @sulkygyu @h-ao @moonie-junnie @calssunflower @kpopfan1130 @jarak0j @yayitslauraaa @inner19daysinteriorshound @undercoveemafiaa @wwsfg @kim-hunter5 @peachesjvn @weeee-eeee @this-cool-chick @xiaovenmisser @jun-cat @gyuldaengie6 @creativetaehan @subsikkie people who couldn’t be tagged in comments ^^

#seventeen smut #kpop smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader smut #kpop x reader #seventeen angst #jun smut #jun angst #jun fluff #junhui smut #junhui angst #junhui fluff #.leeworks #kpop fluff #kpop angst

[haoboutyou]

till death do us part | wen junhui

angst, hurt/no comfort | 1158 words | warnings: major character death

an: @bluehoodiewoozi swore at me for writing this. hehe. would you believe i wrote all of this through text?

These days, the world outside was rather… quiet. The town lay in eerie silence, its once vibrant streets now hauntingly empty. Abandoned cars scattered haphazardly along the roads, their doors left ajar as if their panicked occupants had fled in a hurry. The once cheerful storefronts now stood as decaying shells, their windows shattered and doors hanging off their hinges. A thick layer of dust and debris covered everything, as if a shroud had settled over the town.

The few remaining streetlights flickered sporadically, casting long, ominous shadows that danced across the lifeless buildings. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, a putrid combination of rotting flesh and stagnant water. Occasionally, the only sounds that broke the silence were the distant moans and shuffling footsteps of the undead, hidden in the shadows and alleys.

You were tired. Junhui was tired. The air was heavy with a palpable sense of despair, and the once-familiar landmarks now stood as haunting monuments to the fall of civilization. You hadn’t had a second to relax ever since leaving your now-infested apartment complex. Your only dream right now was to lay on a comfy bed, after days spent sleeping on hard grounds. 

What a shame that you’d only find yourself on one after barely escaping a surprise horde of zombies

Battered and bruised didn’t stop Junhui from carrying you into the nearest zombie-free house, shielding you against his chest as he tried to press on your fresh wounds.

He set you down in a bedroom furthest away from the entrance, on a dusty queen-sized bed He immediately rummaged through the house looking for things to stop you from bleeding out and withering in pain. Medicine, bandages, ointments– anything he saw, he brought them back to you.

You winced and grunted every time he tried to apply something other than pressure on you. At one point, the stinging from the ointments became too much, and you weakly swatted Junhui’s hand away from a gash on your side. 

Junhui’s head tilted down, hair shaggy as he clumsily worked his way through his loot. Pouring this, dabbing that, he busied his hands, attempting to wrap gauze on your arm. It didn’t stop you from noticing how shaky his hands were, or how his body shook every few seconds as tears cascaded down his face. 

“Jun,” you voiced, barely a whisper, but still enough for him to lock eyes with you for a moment before going back to the task at hand.

“Jun.”

“Junhui.”

“Wen Junhui!”

“What?!” Junhui finally snapped, staring at you with glassy eyes. Noticing the way you flinched, he softened his gaze, hand moving to push a stray hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, love. I’m just trying to help you.” His hand landed on your face, letting you weakly nuzzle in his warmth. “Is anything else in pain?”

“Jun…” 

“Is the bandage not tight enough?” 

“No, I-…Look at me, Junhui” 

He touched your hands, fingers interlocking. Your fingertips were getting colder, he noticed. He moved to cover you with a nearby blanket, before the gravity of the situation hit him.

“No, no no no,” he grasped your hand tighter, not caring for his knees that had been kneeling for the better part of the past half hour. “You can’t– We promised to find Jeonghan at the base… We… We’re supposed to go together!” 

Wen Junhui was full-on sobbing now, whole body slumped over yours. You mustered what was left of you to place a gentle hand on his head, caressing him softly. 

“You’ll still have to go. Promise, okay?” You were smiling now, but your eyes were just as full of tears as his.

“I… I can’t do it without you!” The hand he had on your stomach started to feel damp again, as he realised more blood was seeping out of the wound. “Y/n…!”

"Just hold my hand, okay? Nothing will happen to you.” Junhui’s grip on your hand was hurting you, but nothing could compare to the pain you felt from the mere thought of having to leave this man behind. 

“I won’t let anything hurt you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he kissed the top of your knuckles, bringing your hand that was on his head to his cheek.

“Okay,” speaking now had gotten to a point where it hurt, but comforting the crying man by your side mattered more. 

You fought off the urge to close your eyes, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Promise me… that you’ll find everyone else…” You barely managed to cough out the words. “You have to live, promise.”

Junhui could feel your very life force seeping out of you.

“I promise… I love you, y/n. I love you so much.” He saw you struggling to hold on, for him. The very thought of you putting his selfish wants first, even on your deathbed, hurt his already throbbing heart.

“Let’s meet again soon, yeah?” He had to strain his ears to hear you now. He mustered up a gentle smile, looking at you with all the adoration he held for you. With his free hand, Junhui attempted to wipe away his tears as much as possible. At least, he thought, he’d like it if the last thing you saw was him smiling, not crying.

Tears, like glistening droplets of sorrow, slowly traced a delicate path down the contours of your cheeks. Nevertheless, you tried your hardest, returning his efforts with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen grace your face.

It was barely moments after that your hand slumped in his, lifeless. Junhui spent the night kneeling on the floor by the bed, trying to grasp whatever warmth was still on you before it all seeped out. 

Morning came. He had to leave now if he wanted to reach the base camp before dark. He finally pried his hand out of your cold and clammy ones, moving them to rest over your stomach. He touched you once more, as if his fingertips were memorising every contour of your face and committing them to memory. Finally, before he covered your face with the blanket, he unhooked the necklace you had always worn around your neck. It was a little bit selfish, he thought, but he wanted at least something to remind him of you. 

Fastening it around his own neck, he spent the next hour gathering his and your supplies, checking his routes and weapons in silence. 

By noon, he walked out of the house, clutching the necklace by his heart.

Jeonghan and the others would be heartbroken when they find out why he arrived alone, the light in his eyes shining no more. They would take care of Junhui, watching after him as he fiddled with the necklace, making sure he slept and ate his meals. But he wasn’t at the camp yet. Until then, there was no time to grieve. 

He had to survive. For you.

#jun #junhui #wen junhui #jun angst #moon junhui #junhui angst #seventeen #svt #seventeen angst #svt angst #seventeen imagines #jun imagines #junhui imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #jun x reader #junhui x reader #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚

[kyeomsense]

how svt hyung line breaks your heart

i’ve been wanting to do something more angst-heavy for a while and i think 2 am is the perfect time to do that <3 enjoy!

svt x gn!reader, angst

wc: ~1k

seungcheol

he breaks it off after a long battle with himself. he still loves you and hopes that you can forgive him, but he ultimately knows that it’s for the best.

the two of you have different values and wants out of life. maybe it’s not that you can’t be together at all, but it’s that you can’t be together right now. he knows that, and he knows that he loves you and you love him. but he can’t let this relationship tear you apart any longer.

so, he leaves. he’s firm on his decision. he tells you he wants to break up with a stern expression on his face. when you beg him to stay, he only insists on leaving, because if he stays any longer he knows he’ll break down.

jeonghan

he lets you down easy when it happens. when you ask him why, he just says it’s not you, but him that is the problem. he’s not ready for commitment. he’s not ready for the serious talks about marriage. he’s not ready for anything truly impactful.

he’s not even surprised when you get angry. he knows you’ve put your entire being into the relationship, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t feel comfortable staying in it.

a part of it may be that he doesn’t know how to feel. he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. all he knows is that when he looks at you, an unknown, honey-like feeling simmers in his stomach and it terrifies him.

joshua

he tries his best to be nice about it, but his words still hurt. behind his sweet, affectionate gaze and upturned lips is a man who you realize you don’t even know anymore.

maybe you’ve changed. maybe he has, too. neither of you know. what joshua knows at least is that whatever spark he felt for you has long since faded and been replaced with a thin layer of resentment.

he’s fallen out of love with you, and he decides it’s best for him to end things earlier rather than later. even as you attempt to ask him why or how you can fix things, he simply tells you the truth. he’ll always love you, but he’s not in love with you anymore, and nothing can change that.

jun

he’s not even sure how things ended up this way. he’s not even sure why he agreed to start dating you. perhaps it was the fact that he has trouble saying no to people, or the fact that he didn’t want to look like an asshole in front of all your friends.

but now he’s six months in. things were fine in the beginning, when the honeymoon phase and excitement of having a significant other fueled his affectionate gestures. now, everything feels fake and empty. he tells you he loves you, but he feels deep down that he barely knows you.

he brings it up while you two are on a date. he can’t do it anymore. he can’t do this anymore. the fake smiles and strained laughter. he just can’t. he leaves you crying at the table and calls you an uber before he leaves.

soonyoung

he can’t blame you. he can only blame himself. when he first started feeling things towards someone else, he knew that he should cut them off and refocus his attention on you. instead, he fed into the flirting with passionate touches and intimate texts.

he hates himself for doing that to you. it’s not fair at all. while you were waiting for him at home with a hot plate of pasta, he was locking lips with his hot duet partner. it eats at him each night when he greets you with a kiss, one that still tastes like his lover’s strawberry chapstick.

it explodes at dinner one night. while you expect him to propose, he bows his head in shame and tells you everything. he can only accept what he’s done and begin packing his things, tears rolling down his cheeks as he hears you sobbing even through the lit tv chatter.

wonwoo

the two of you aren’t strangers, but it definitely feels like it. from missed texts and calls to not even greeting each other, it feels like there’s a solid wall dividing the two of you, one that wonwoo builds higher the longer you date.

you feel the break up coming even before it happens, but that doesn’t mean you don’t do everything in your power to prevent it. but even through your warm hugs and shining smiles, you can only feel the icy loneliness that wonwoo offers you in return. you don’t give up hope, but he crushes it.

during the breakup, he’s straightforward. he tells you he wants to break it off and watches as you start crying. he simply stands and sighs calmly before leaving. he’s gone before you can even ask why.

jihoon

you know work comes first. it always does, especially when it comes to jihoon. at first, you’re okay with it, but as you find yourself in a year long relationship, you can’t help but feel a bit of neglect.

jihoon realizes it, too. he knows that his work is time-consuming and mentally taxing. he knows he should probably text you he’s going to be working late tonight and that you should eat dinner alone. but for some reason, he doesn’t. he can’t. because he doesn’t want to do this to you anymore.

you pick up after the first ring and greet him with an excited chirp. the bright smile plastered on your face quickly disappears as you listen to jihoon’s words. he barely waits for a response before he cuts the line. when you try and call him back, he doesn’t pick up.

a/n: have fun with this one <3

#svt x reader #svt angst #seungcheol angst #jeonghan angst #joshua angst #jun angst #soonyoung angst #wonwoo angst #jihoon angst

[kimingyuslover]

JUN FIC RECS

bedroom exclusive by @onlyhuis (smut, <playful> angst, fluff)

synopsis | seeing your boyfriend on tv kissing another girl definitely doesn't feel good, but he's got plenty of time to make it up to you. and he plans on letting you know that you're the only one on his mind. 

junhui as your smart nerdy boyfie by @dinoyuv (smut)

junhui as your nerdy smart bf who tries his best to help you with your studies as much as he can, always supporting you in any way possible.

delete by @hanniedream (angst)

↳ You’re done with the relationship after feeling like you're the only one that's in it and Junhui tries but fails to make you stay.

psycho by @wheeboo (dark au, mystery, angst, a tiny tiny subtle pinch of fluff)

SYNOPSIS. in which a new patient is assigned for treatment under your care, and you begin to put the puzzles and pieces together to a past case that you thought to have ceased away from your mind.

happy ending by @junkissed (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, husband!jun)

synopsis | a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

#jun angst #seventeen x reader #jun smut #jun x reader #junhui x reader #seventeen smut #wen junhui #kml.recs

[mjanelupinblack]

Sooo I am writing this vampire diaries x twilight seventeen fanfiction and all I can think about rn is vampire hao, joshua, jun and mingyu and I don’t feel mentally sane!!

#minghao x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen the8 #seventeen x reader #jun x reader #minghao fluff #jun angst #jun fluff #jun smut #mingyu x reader #joshua x reader #vampire au #seventeen x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seventeen jun #mingyu x y/n

[nonranghaes]

warnings: reader has... problems with expressing themself/letting ppl in + implied baggage that makes them like that.

this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“it’s okay,” jun keeps saying in this quiet mantra, arms wrapped around you as you fight back your tears, battling with your own fucking body to get everything back under control.

this was not supposed to happen. and yet the door opened, and jun called out that he brought dinner to surprise you because you’d been working hard lately... and then he saw you. his gaze softened when he did, and he realized why he hadn’t found you anywhere else in your apartment. it’s like he actively avoided acknowledging every warning sign telling him to go away, that you didn’t want anyone to see you.

yet when he came closer, you didn’t know what to do. if you snapped at him the way you almost did, fire on the tip of your tongue and venom behind it, he’d never forgive you (no one ever does, right? you aren’t allowed to be angry with people, you’re supposed to wrap it up nice and neat and make yourself as small as you can). if you cry openly, he’ll leave, too: crying as an adult looks pathetic. that’s why you’re supposed to swallow your feelings and anything past a few tears, pretending as though you don’t have any ugly feelings like that.

“do you want to talk about it?” was what he said to you next, and when you furiously shook your head, he slowly came closer. he sat down at the foot of your bed. “... can i hold you?”

you don’t know why you said yes. you shouldn’t have. even now, you should push him away and tell him to go. that this was a mistake. it’d hurt him, you know it would, but he’d be free from all of this bullshit and your bullshit...

yet the moment he starts to rub circles into your back, cradling your body against his chest, it seems to do something to you. you lose control, body betraying it as it chokes out those first sobs before all you can do is cry in his arms. that’s when he started with the “it’s okay” thing. somewhere between the mental fog and the ache in your lungs and the stinging in your eyes, you realize you’ve never cried in front of jun before.

his head presses against yours. “it’s okay,” he says again in that low whisper. “you aren’t alone anymore. i’ve got you.” 

(and something about the gentle way he says it makes you want to believe it. so you try to, until the day that you can fully embrace the statement with open arms.)

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #jun x reader #wen junhui x reader #junhui x reader #jun angst #wen junhui angst #junhui angst #idk what else to tag this as #i dont rly want to live anymore gamers i am just. tired. #u dont have to worry abt me if u see this. i promised 27. after tht? idk ill make sure my funerals bumping

[wqnwoos]

you’re painfully aware that all the tossing and turning you’re doing is getting you nowhere. but no matter what position you try, the fact remains — you can’t sleep.

jun, on the other hand, is resting peacefully on the other side of the bed.

so when the clock hits 3:23 in the morning, you give up; all the shifting under the sheets is getting you nowhere, and you really don’t want to wake jun up. so you slide carefully out of the bed and pad to the kitchen, squinting against the bright light.

it’s just as you’ve given up on the kitchen and are making yourself comfortable in the living room that your boyfriend appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily. it takes him all of a few seconds to spot you on the couch and wrap himself around you, mumbling tiredly into your ear. “you left me.”

you lean your head against him. “i’m sorry. did i wake you when i got up?”

jun shakes his head from where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “no. the bed was cold without you.” he tightens his arms around your waist for emphasis, before questioning you sleepily. “what’s wrong? can’t sleep?”

“yeah,” you confess, turning so you can burrow into his chest and feel his heartbeat steady against your cheek. “i just feel… off. don’t know why.”

jun kisses your temple now, smoothing your hair. “that’s okay,” he murmurs. “i’ll hold you.”

“here? on the couch?”

“here. there. wherever you want.” he tucks you closer to him. “just close your eyes, okay?”

and maybe his warmth is all it takes to lull you into sleep. and maybe he really does intend on carrying you back to bed — but maybe he ends up falling asleep too, and maybe the two of you wake up entangled on the sofa the next morning. maybe.

an / entirely self indulgent AGAIN bc guess who can’t sleep!! it’s me!! anxiety is a bitch. love u all goodnight 💗

#jun fluff #jun comfort #jun x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #jun fic #jun angst #jun imagines #jun scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen comfort

[twogyuu]

Second Chance

Pairing: Junhui x fem!reader

Synopsis: World-class professional boxer, Moon Junhui has everything a man could desire: good-looks, money, fame, power, and a beautiful fiancé. Yet, there’s a void in his heart that cannot be filled despite the countless number of golden trophies and diamond encrusted belts lining the walls of his home. If he had a second chance to do this all over again, would he have chosen differently?

Genre: Fluff, crack(?), angst, boxer!au, time travel!au, forbidden relationship, amateur boxer!jun, coach's daughter!reader, older brother figure!Cheol, inspired by 'Tear' by BTS

Warnings: Fist-to-fist combat, minor inaccuracies about boxing (I did some research and pulled from what I know from watching with my siblings), reader cheats (playfully), italics refer to a past life (if this were a movie, imagine the scenes of both lives being shown simultaneously in parallel - yet the outcome doesn't change . . .) 

WC: ~1.5k

A/N: I think the FML ver. 3 album was my sign to post at the very least a drabble/snippet from this giant writing project that I've been working on and off on for the past year and a half 🤧 Surprise :') There was a reason I never really wrote for Moon Jun. I was invested, but on and off writing for this fic that's already gotten to 22k words, but is still less than halfway finished 😭

If people enjoy this enough, just maybe . . . I'll consider turning it into a series? Idk . . . with the new job and all the transition stuff, I can't make any promises like I did with 'Terrifyingly Innocent.' Do know that I hold this fic near and dear to my heart and would do it in a heartbeat if the circumstances were different.

Last but not least, I'm also sharing this small snippet for the lovely @sleeplessdawn - though we met under "special" circumstances lol, I'm glad we did 💙 Thank you for always indulging in my insane dreams and writing ideas hehehe.

A long time ago, Jun decided he didn’t believe in fate. 

If fate was real, his then selfish decisions wouldn’t have led him astray from you. 

If fate was real, he wouldn’t have followed his head and his greed and chose you instead. 

If fate was real, despite the challenges, it would've been you by his side at the gala, dressed to the nines with a heavy rock on your finger wrapped around your finger, signifying the promise of his undying love for you. 

Yet, everything that has led him here, back to you in these moments in his youth that at the time he didn’t know were precious and fleeting, has him questioning his own beliefs. 

The loose bands of the ring snapped against the corner board and vibrated the floor as you swung your legs inside. Hands wrapped in black and the soles of your feet dusted in chalk, you rolled your shoulders back and bounced on your feet to loosen your muscles before the fight. 

Jun cleared his throat and turned so his back was facing you. He grabbed onto the thick rubber band, clenching and unclenching his fists around it as he strategized his plan against you, his mind wandering back to his first life when you had challenged him to a fight. 

The conditions were the same: if Jun won, you would go on a date with him. If you won, he’d mop the floors in your steed for a month. 

It started much the same as today: the gray hoodie with the sleeves cut off, the black hand wrapping, the plume of smoke that fogged over your feet with every hop, your hair swept back and the few strays of hair that made you look like a dandelion. 

You cracked your neck with the tilt of your head to the right side, raising your arms into position.

“Break a leg, Moon Jun,” you taunted.

He found it endearing – trash talk didn’t suit you, but the attempt was appreciated. Jun only responded with a small smile as he took a few steps closer and mirrored your stance. 

Seungcheol, refereeing the fight, stood relaxed to the side with a stopwatch in his hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, he started the time and announced the beginning of the game. 

Jun was quick to learn, you weren’t strong, but you were swift. Your reflexes were a boxer’s dream – Jun was fast, but you happened to be a beat faster. Every hook, every jab, every cross, you were able to dodge, returning them on the opposite side with a quick slap of your knuckles against his rib cage or a tap on his shoulder. 

Lips parted in a pant, beads of sweat starting to roll down his temple as he tried to keep up with you, Jun grew frustrated, his chest burning with both fury, and well, frankly, heartache. The tight squeeze around his heart every time you slipped out of his reach was just another painful reminder of how much he wanted you, but couldn’t. 

His heart yearned for you – at least just one fair chance. 

The situation wasn’t ideal and a part of him wanted to believe Seungcheol. 

You were the coach’s daughter and though it could go very right, if Jun pursued you out of lust, this could end very tragically and jeopardize not only his career, but that of his team and his coach. 

Yet knowing this, a part of him wanted to take the chance, and he’d like to think you did too. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but you seemed to fit so perfectly into his life – as if everything fell into place and felt whole since meeting you. 

It’s why despite Seungcheol’s look of disappointment and behind your father’s back, Jun had mustered up his courage to ask you on a simple date. 

But why did you have to make it so difficult?

Jun noticed a weak point in your defense as you tried to steady yourself on your feet after ducking under one of his hooks.

It happened so quickly, yet so slow. 

A smirk painted his lips as he took note of the opportunity. Eyes flickering to you, he met your own gaze of horror as this once, you were the one a beat behind. Jun swung his left arm, his plan to take you down once he unstabilized your stance. 

Yet, it seemed like you had one more trick up your sleeve – an illegal one, but still one more trick. 

Just as his fist was about to meet your side, you fell to your right knee, extending out a leg and sweeping it right under him. Jun felt his legs give out, the slip of one foot and suddenly he was on his back. A groan left his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. It wasn’t only his heart aching now, but his back too. 

He attempted to get up in all his stupor – a fight had to go on if he wanted this date to happen, but he found himself unable to. Eyes squinting open, he was met with your own sweaty face hanging inches above his own, your weight settled on his lower abdomen as you straddled his hips from getting up. 

When you finally came into clear view, Jun noted a mischievous glint in your expression. His lips fell agape like a guppy fish – stupidly mesmerized by you, yet embarrassed to be in this compromising position. 

His ears were ringing, but he was still able to make out muffled sounds of Seungcheol’s worried shouts and the intermittent scolding of you using your legs when this was boxing. You were quickly ushered off of Jun, Seungcheol waving a hand and calling his name to make sure the former was okay. 

“Yah! Moon Junhui!” Seungcheol shouted as he jolted his friend’s shoulder. 

He blinked a few times before shaking his head and coming out of your trance. Even though it was Seungcheol in front of him, his eyes followed you, lingering in the background – the triumphant smirk slowly melting off and being replaced by a look of worry the longer Jun stayed down. 

“Moon Jun–”

“I’m fine! Stop!” Jun waved off his friend. 

“How’s your head? Can you see okay? How many fingers am I holding up?” Seungcheol rambled. 

“I’m fine,” Jun repeated himself as he tried to get up. He winced at the ache between his scapulae. Noticing, Seungcheol supported Jun’s weight on one side, muttering a string of curse words and scolds about your sweep kick. 

“I’ll see you for ice cream tomorrow,” you called from the side of the ring. Jun looked up to find you, one leg hanging in the ring, the other one already ready to hop out. Perhaps he was still seeing stars after the fall, but he could’ve sworn he saw you wink.The corner of your lip twitched up into a small smile. You chortled, “Consider it a date.”

If fate was real, it didn’t matter if you beat him or if he beat you. 

In this life, it was now Jun straddling your hips, an elbow gently pressed across your chest to stop you from struggling against him though you had already stilled. You stared back at him, cheeks warm and eyes wide in surprise at the way his own flitted across your face, the crease between his brows forming ever so slightly as if to seriously memorize every subtle feature and every crevice.

Because fate was real and it led him back to you. 

You tapped his arm with your pointer finger to signal that you yielded and end the fight. However, he remained in the position, inquisitive – you wondered what he was thinking and what was going through that beautiful mind of his. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Seungcheol shouted as he hurried into the ring. He pulled off Jun by the elbow. “You won, get off her and let her breathe, geeze!”

Jun blinked blankly at Seungcheol a few times, dazed. The older man shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth and pushed the lovestruck boy aside.Seungcheol extended a hand to help you get up. 

You feigned your cool and content, stretching out your back and paying extra attention to the chalk that had dirtied your black leggings, patting away the white. 

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol took you by the shoulders and scanned you up and down. “You know your dad is gonna murder me if anything happens to you, right? At the hands of his prized boxer too!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you pushed his hands off your shoulder. You waved your limbs around to prove a point. “Nothing’s broken – see!”

Amidst your bickering, Jun cleared his throat, commanding silence in the ring again. You both looked up at him. He couldn’t help, but notice the way you had suddenly grown sheepish, inching ever so slightly to hide Seungcheol’s broad shoulder. 

Like you that day, he smiled. 

“I’ll see you for ice cream tomorrow,” Jun announced. He winked, his smile spreading into a grin. “Consider it a date.”

Like you that day, he walked out of the ring with his heart full and warm, but giddy and thumping off-beat than what he was used to.

#jun x reader #junhui x reader #junhui fluff #junhui angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #junhui scenarios #jun fluff #jun angst #jun scenarios

[itsbeeble]

Come Back...Be Here

Summary: Dating an idol is not an easy task, and sometimes all you want is for Jun to come back, to be here with you

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: idol!Wen Junhui x gn!reader (i tried to keep it as neutral as possible, let me know if I missed something

WC: ~2.5k

Series Masterlist

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: hurt comfort (what's new), insecurities, no arguing really, a little bit of kissing, mentions of toxic fans n whatever, mentions of Pledis, uhhh i think that's it yall it's really not that bad today teehee

Listen to Come Back...Be Here by Taylor Swift

A/N: keeping it relatively light today <3. I lowkey wanna rapid fire these but I also want quality so let's hope I don't like...disappear for another six months

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Jun has one hand in your hair and the other securely wrapped around your waist. You’re lying against his chest on the couch in your shared apartment, staring at a painting on the wall. 

“It’s just a tour, Junnie.” You say, your voice muffled slightly. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

You don’t tell him that no, it isn’t okay. You want him to stay here with you. You want him home, close to you. It would never leave your mind that you hate when he has to leave for so long. Months and months without him, thousands of other people seeing him but you can only see him behind a screen. It kills you inside, but you’d rather let yourself suffer than tell your boyfriend that you don’t want him to go. 

“I know but…” Jun sighs, leaning his head back. “I dunno, it feels different this time. I feel like I shouldn’t leave you.” Your smile, pressing a light kiss onto the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. 

“I promise that it’ll be fine.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I’ll try not to miss you too much.” The joke makes you both laugh, but there’s a heaviness in the air that can’t be shaken. Your smile dies, and you curl your body up. Jun tightens his arms around you.

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too, Jun.” 

~

It’s hard not to cry at the airport. You can’t go inside with him since your relationship isn’t public yet, the two of you tucked into the back of the van with Jun gripping your hand tightly. The other boys have already gotten out, and you can hear the screams and cameras clicking. 

“This is your last chance to stop me,” he jokes. You try to laugh but your voice breaks, and Jun immediately frowns. “What’s wrong, love? You promised you wouldn’t cry.” A tear breaks free, and you hurriedly wipe it away. 

“I just…” there’s a shakiness in your voice that you can’t shake no matter how hard you try. “I wish I could go with you.” 

A tap on the window, Seungcheol most likely. You have to hurry.

“I know,” Jun presses his forehead to yours. “I know. It’s just until January, though. We can make it until then, right? We’ve gone longer.”

“I know, it’s— I just don’t—” you stumble over your words, and Jun presses a feather-light kiss to your cheek. Another, firmer, tap on the window and Jun starts to get up with a heavy sigh. Please don’t go, you want to scream. Stay here with me.

“Promise me that you’ll call me if you need me.” He pleads. “Promise me you won’t bottle it up.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Deep inside, both of you know you couldn’t keep those promises. 

“I promise. Now go, I don’t need Cheol to be mad at either of us, especially me.” Jun laughs, and you press a sweet kiss to his lips. It takes a moment for either of you to find the will to pull away, but a fist against the window jerks the both of you into reality again. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. Remember to call if you need anything.” He’s halfway out of the van, grinning at you. 

“I love you too,” you don’t say anything about those promises. Not that he would hear you anyway, the sound of the fans is near deafening when he slips outside. It’s only when the door closes again that you can hear, that you can focus. You’re thankful that the driver stays quiet, glancing at you occasionally in the rearview but not saying a word. 

Five months. You just have to wait five months. 

~

It’s a month before you break your promise for the first time. The apartment had been quiet for too long, lonely without Jun’s laughter to fill it. You call whenever you can, but the time zones make it hard. You try to text him whenever you can, but often he can’t respond until hours later when you’re working or asleep. It’s hard. It’s always hard, and you try not to complain or worry him, but sometimes you just can’t take it.

There are times when you almost regret meeting Jun. There are times when you wish you could have a relationship that allows you to see the one you love regularly, in person and not through a phone screen. It takes a while for you to break out of that feeling. It takes a while to remember that you wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, wouldn’t trade this relationship for the world. 

Today is one of those days. It had been a rough week overall between the shitty weather, dreadful work days, and the lonely apartment. You’re lying face down on Jun’s side of the bed, not quite crying but the tears brimming in your eyes are about to overpower your will to stay strong for Jun. 

It hadn’t even been a rough day. Maybe it was the combination of missing him that did it. Maybe it was the video that came across your feed of Jun beaming at a fan’s phone and completing their hand-heart. Maybe it was all getting to be too much for you. 

Your phone vibrates, lighting up with a call from Jun. You gnaw on your lip, your eyebrows furrowing it. 

“Hello?” You let the phone rest against your ear, forcing your voice to remain steady. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Baby!” His voice is cheery, and a warmth blooms in your chest. “I’m so glad you picked up! I didn’t know if you’d be at work or asleep right now.”

“I’m about to go to bed,” you lie smoothly. You weren’t gonna go to bed anytime soon, and Jun probably knows that. “But I can stay up a little bit longer for you.” 

You wipe at your eyes, sniffing quietly. Jun goes quiet for a moment, and you can hear rustling on his side of the call. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is quieter now. “You sound…off.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “I’m just tired.” He’s quiet again.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay?”

“Of course, I would.” You smile, “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.” He sighs.

“I just…I worry about you. I know it can be hard with me being away for so long, so I just want to make sure you’re fine.” 

The warmth that had bloomed in your chest expands, covering you from head to toe. This is why you could never truly regret meeting Junhui. He loves you, he cares about you, and he wants you to be okay. It almost hurts you to lie to him like you have, but you’d rather you be hurt than him be worried.

“You don’t have to worry about me, my love.” You reassure him. “I promised you I’d call you if something was wrong, right?” 

“...You did…”

“Then don’t worry.” 

It’s when you get off the phone that you officially break your promise. The tears aren’t slow or controlled. Your body is wracked with heaving breaths and choked sobs. You try to muffle yourself with the back of your hand, but you can’t. 

Four months to go, and you’ve already lied to Jun twice. You wonder how long you can keep up the charade before he figures it out. 

~

“They lied to me,” Jun sits crosslegged on the bed of his hotel, a horrid combination of angry and distraught. “Why did they lie to me?” 

Vernon shrugs, glancing up from whatever game he was playing on his phone. 

“How do you know they were lying?” He asks. “They said they were tired, right?”

“I mean— I mean yeah, but I know them!” He flings his body back, bouncing slightly on the mattress. “They’re upset, and they won’t tell me which means I can’t help them, which means that they’re just gonna keep bottling it up!” Vernon purses his lips.

“Maybe just…I dunno…fly them out here?”

“No, I can’t do that.” Jun denies. “They would never want to travel this much. Especially because our relationship isn’t public which means we can’t even explore together which—”

“Alright,” Vernon cuts him off. “Damn, it was just a suggestion. If it’s that big of a deal then just confront them about it.”

Jun pauses, contemplating this. He could do that, or…

“No. I trust them. I want them to come to me about this.” 

~

Month three. The past month hadn’t been that bad, you must admit. Things got a little easier, you’d adjusted to the silence in your apartment, the weather eased up bringing just a little bit of warmth to your day. Jun was calling daily now, despite the awkward times. He made sure to call at a reasonable time for you, no matter what time it was on his end. 

Every conversation led with him asking if you missed him, if you’d been taking care of yourself. You always gave him the same answer. Yes, you missed him very much, and yes, you had been taking care of yourself. He would get quiet, you would sigh or clear your throat, and he would carry on the conversation. Telling you about fan interactions, something funny the members told him, a new food he tried that he would love to take you to someday. 

Every call ends with an I love you, a hesitation on both ends, and you fighting to tell him to come back, be here with me. You never say it. You always hang up first. 

Then an article comes out. 

SEVENTEEN Memember Moon Junhui Announces Unexpected Hiatus Amidst World Tour

You immediately call him, each going directly to voicemail. You call every member and they all say the same thing. 

“He’s fine,” Seungcheol assures you.

“He’s not injured or sick, don’t worry too much,” Minghao dismisses.

“I’m sure he’d tell you if it was something to worry about,” Joshua sighs through the phone when you call him. “I promise you he’s fine.”

“Then why isn’t he picking up the phone?” You snap. Tears are brimming in your eyes, your hands are shaking. 

“Y/N.” Joshua’s voice is suddenly sharp. “I promise you, Jun is fine. He’ll call you soon, just stop worrying.” He hangs up the phone right after that, not giving you a chance to argue again. 

You spend the whole day pacing, checking your phone for any messages from Jun but come up empty. You’re stuck in your head, a neverending stream of worry and fear in your head. What if they were all lying to you? Nothing that you hadn’t been doing to Jun for months.

The lock in the door clicks.

You whirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as the door slowly creeps open. A suitcase slides through the door, and then the door opens even wider. 

“You would think it would be easier to hike two suitcases into an elevator,” Jun grunts as he pushes through the door, another suitcase dragging behind him. He’s slightly sweaty, his hair in disarray, and he’s sluggish, but he’s here.

“Jun?” it feels like all of the air has been sucked from your lungs, and your phone hits the carpeted ground. Your boyfriend beams at you. 

“Hi, love.” He lets go of his suitcases, bending to crack his back a bit. “How are you—” 

He yelps when your body collides with him, your arms wrapping around his neck while he stumbles to catch his footing again. Jun’s body collides with the door, but his arms come to wrap around you, his body curling into yours a bit. It’s quiet between the two of you, much like your phone calls, and then Jun pulls away from you with a pout on his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were upset?” Ah, so he did know. “I could’ve helped you!”

“I didn’t want to worry you!” You protest. He clicks his tongue, swatting you gently upside the head. 

“I don’t care about being worried. I’d rather you have told me about all of this! Do you know how upset I was that you didn’t feel comfortable telling me this?” You duck your head, your cheeks heating up. His hand comes to your cheek, guiding your face to look at him again. “I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“I know…” You sigh, leaning your face further into his hand. “I usually can do pretty good without you here but I guess…I dunno. Some nights it took everything in me to not yell at you to come home, to be here with me.”

“It wasn’t easy for me either, you know.” He sighs. “Do you know how hard it is to not be able to share things with you? To not want to fly you out with me so we can experience these things together?” Your stomach churns, and you press your face into his chest.

“You never told me,” your eyebrows knit together. “I mean, obviously I never assumed you were fine, but you were always with the members or interacting with fans, so I thought you would be okay.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want you there with me,” he argues. “Yes, it’s fun being on tour, but I can’t always enjoy myself if you aren’t there with me. That’s— I just—” he inhales and rests his chin on top of your head. “Come with me.”

Your body tenses and you pull away from him. “What?”

“Come on tour with me,” he pleads, bending to your level. “Be with me, see these cities, and eat good food, and just…let me show you to the world.”

“I’m— Jun are you— is the company okay with this?” He grins at you.

“Not like they can stop me anyway,” he reassures you. “S.Coups will take care of it. In fact, he’s already making sure they don’t stop us.” 

Your heart is racing, your eyes bugging out of your head.

“And you don’t have to worry about backlash from fans,” he continues, noticing your silence, “if they say anything then we know who does and does not support us. We have good lawyers, too. We just have to get your plane ticket and then—”

You press your lips to his, your hand slipping to the back of his neck to pull him closer to you. He’s quick to reciprocate, relaxing into your hold. It’s a slow, warm kiss. It’s filled with nothing but love for each other, and you can’t help but smile and feel giddy. 

“Does this mean you’ll let me take you on tour with me?” Jun breathes out, his nose nudging against yours. 

“Only if you promise to never leave me behind again.” He smiles.

“We have a bad history with not keeping promises.”

“I don’t care. Just promise me.”

“I promise.”

~

Taglist: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @leejihoonownsmyheart @nobraincellmode

#itsbeeble #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #wen junhui #jun #jun x reader #jun imagines #jun fluff #jun angst #moon joonhui #reese’s pieces 🗞️ #reese's works 📩 #reese's moots 🩵 #ally~ ⛄️ #brie~ 🫧 #fawn~ 🧼

[welcometomyoasis]

I'm already home with you | wen junhui

🪧 100 event: "are you serious?" + junhui | @addicsvt Synopsis: a story where you run away from your parent's house to where your home really is, with junhui. Junhui x gn! reader | non idol au, angst, fluff | approx. 500 words | warnings: toxic family, mentions of abuse (no explicit descriptions), reader runs away from home A/n: Ari! Thank you for the request! and when you said i could choose to make it angst, i did kind of 😂. i hope you enjoy it!

"Junhui? Are you serious?"

"Of course. It doesn't matter what time of day or what I'm doing. Whenever you are ready to run, I'll be there."

Today was supposed to be the day you ran away, away from the judgment, scrutiny, and abuse that your parents had inflicted onto you. But somehow they found out, and were intent on trying to keep you bound to the shackles of their control. 

Narrowly avoiding your mother’s hands that were trying to grab you, you hurriedly ran into your room. You slammed the door, locking it and holding onto the handle tightly as you felt someone on the other side try to force their way in. Frantically throwing your window open, you hesitated a little when you saw the height that you would have to jump from, but when you heard your door being busted open, you hardened your resolve and jumped. 

Landing on the grass with a loud thud, you ran towards the side street where your boyfriend, Junhui, was waiting on his motorcycle. Upon seeing your panicked form approaching with two figures emerging from your house behind you, he revved the engine in preparation to allow you both a swift escape. Once you swung your legs over the backseat and clung onto his waist tightly, you were off. 

For a while, you both rode in silence. Then, the adrenaline, your inner conflict about whether or not you should have left, the built up emotions of fear, pain, and most of all, relief that you were finally free bubbled over. Unable to keep your tears from streaming down any longer, you buried your face in Junhui’s back and sobbed. Feeling the wet tears on his back, he pulled over to the side of the road. He twisted himself so he was facing you and pulled you into a tight hug. 

When your tears finally subsided, you muttered a soft, “thank you Junhui, for really being here, for helping me to run away. I know you were busy and I was asking for a lot.”

Humming, Junhui cupped your face and used his thumbs to swipe away the last of your tear drops. As gently as possible, he replied, “hey, I was serious when I said I would be here regardless of what I was doing.”

Giving your forehead a quick kiss, Junhui continued, “So, now that you are free, where would you like to go? We could go anywhere. We can go for a drive, grab a bite, or if you prefer, we could go home?”

Home. You haven’t had the feeling of being at home in a long time. Home is a place you feel safe, loved, protected. You always wondered where home was. But now, being with Junhui, the one who had helped to swoop you away, the one who was looking at you with tender eyes, you just knew. 

Leaning into Junhui’s chest, you said, “It doesn’t matter where we go. I’m already home with you.”

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff

#welcometomyoasis 100 milestone ♡ #caratsland #k-labels #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #wen junhui #junhui #seventeen jun #moon junhui #junhui x reader #svt junhui #svt jun #jun x reader #jun angst #junhui angst #jun imagines #jun scenarios #jun fluff #seventeen fluff #shu's archive ✎ᝰ.

[jejuboo-s]

SILENT BOARDING GATE TEASER (W. Junhui x F. Reader)

Summary: In which you meet Wen Junhui, an exchange student from China, along the way of accomplishing your dreams. He was a great friend, but you got attached to him. Maybe a little too much.

Pairing: Wen Junhui x Design Major!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, & Smut

Tag list: @m00minjunnie @annboo @emma10zt @minhui896 @peachypeach05 @meanau @smalliechelle @orpheustae @j4edo @diorsfxck @valenhui @nanxyjeon-02 @minnie-mouser22 @cloudysannie @1-mpurities @kpoplovertothemoon @sunflowerlukes @itzxvaxella @svtup @yourfavoriteon3 @dulcecreatura @puzzlecages @justwonus-recs

Send an ask, like, or repost to be added to the tag list for the finished fic! (Your name will not be added to the list but you WILL be tagged in the final fic—send an ask to confirm optional)

Caution: Contains quoted lyrics from JUN’s “Silent Boarding Gate,” alot of alcohol involved (not to the point where it’s a problem…), arguing & guilt tripping, bathroom sex, public sex, fingering, oral (f. recieving), 4 stages of grief depicted—quite literally, friends to enemies to lover arc, more tags tbd

Fic to be finished from mid-late June, xoxo—jejuboos

#.leeteasers #jun smut #jun fluff #jun angst #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen x reader smut #jun x reader smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #seventeen