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tenelkadjowrites · 2 years

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Blue Hawaii - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

⛈️ Summary: A bad summer storm changes how you see Seonghwa, a bothersome patron of the bar you work at.

⛈️ Word count: 9k

⛈️ Genre warnings: one shot smut. fem pronouns for reader. very light enemies to lovers. smoking and drinking. hair pulling (hwa receiving). biting (reader receiving). oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

⛈️ Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @iusrene - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multihoe-net - @spiderlilyfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @dreamtof0rget - @xirenex

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

The bar is incredibly crowded, overly loud, smells unmistakably like salt water and you are pretty sure another one of those silly drink umbrellas has just crunched under your shoe. You are in your element.

Saturday night, middle of summer, height of tourist season. The beachside bar you work at is a stopping point for many looking to get drunk before wobbling back to their hotels and you love to take advantage of it. There is easy money to be had charming tourists who have come here to soak in the sun and then to soak in the booze underneath the moonlight. Of course, pretending to be kind, patient and charming to get their money is utterly exhausting.

A breeze kicks up, cutting through the open windows and through the small bar. The wind chimes above the bar top move although it is impossible to hear over the din of the music and conversation. Your brain automatically fills the noise in as you slide a drink over to a drunken divorcee who has spent the past ten minutes telling you how much she hates her ex-husband. You nod in a sympathetic manner, hoping this will pay off and result in a large tip. A big storm is supposed to roll in tomorrow night and the bar will most likely be closed. Better make what you can tonight.

Distantly, you can hear two men talking to your right, having just sat down. Their voices are familiar and you know that they aren’t tourists but locals. Those are harder to charm because you see them often enough that the placid and artificial veneer of being pleasant becomes transparent.

“I think I’m going to order a Blue Hawaii,” The first man says and you recognize it as Hongjoong, a painter that comes in every week or so to grab a drink. But where there is Hongjoong, there is…

“Really?” Seonghwa drawls, “Last time I took a sip of yours, it was so weak that I thought I was drinking water. And the same bartender that made it is working tonight. You’re better off just getting a beer than having her make anything.”

You grit your teeth, attempting a smile at the divorced woman, trying to usher her off towards her friends. Once that is accomplished, you turn to face Hongjoong and Seonghwa, your smile cracking like an eggshell.

Hongjoong immediately looks apologetic, Seonghwa apathetic. A cigarette dangles in between Seonghwa’s long fingers, a haze of smoke wafting over his beautifully bored face. His blonde hair is tousled and you can just make out grains of sand among the strands as if Hongjoong’s paintbrush has grazed the beach across it. He wears a black sleeveless shirt, exposing the tanned skin and taunt muscles of his arms. Even though he is beautiful, he is as sour as you and it is for that fact you don’t care for him.

“What do you want?” You bark at them over the din.

“I want a Blue Hawaii,” Hongjoong says defiantly, waiting for Seonghwa to challenge him.

But he does no such thing, instead ordering a beer in a neutral tone. Hongjoong and Seonghwa have been coming to the bar for the past year. You know a lot about Hongjoong – he moved here to paint, wanting to be closer to the ocean, and makes money selling his paintings while working at a cheap tourist trap shop on the main street of town.

When it comes to Seonghwa, however, you know very little. He’s been kicked out of the bar a couple of times for fighting, both verbally and physically. He smokes too much. You aren’t sure what he does for a living. He has a chip the size of a small country on his shoulder. Occasionally, you spot him surfing during the off season. He is blunt to the point of rudeness and when he looks at you, it feels as if he is seeing through any polite façade that you create to charm tourists. …Fine, maybe you know more about him than previously thought.

You start making the Blue Hawaii, a new drink added to the menu for this vacation season, and practically throw the beer towards Seonghwa. His slender hand wraps around it, eyes landing on yours for a brief moment before taking a sip. After finishing making Hongjoong’s, you hand it to him. The drink is electric blue, with both a flower and umbrella on the top.

“Have you ever thought of layering this with some red?” Hongjoong asks, leaning forward slightly so you can hear him, “It would look amazing. Like the sunset mixed with ocean.”

“Have you ever thought of adding actual booze to the drink?” Seonghwa chimes in, rude as ever, “Or is the drink made to be overpriced and catering to tourists?”

You bristle. “You know, you’re insulting your friend when you speak like that. He did order it, after all.”

Something flickers behind Seonghwa’s eyes as he taps the edge of his cigarette into the ashtray. Hongjoong waves a dismissive hand. “You know how Hwa can be sometimes.” Seonghwa shoots a quelling glance at Hongjoong who avoids meeting it.

“Every time he comes into this bar, he’s a jerk.”

Seonghwa doesn’t reply. He seemingly has no desire to explain himself nor justify his way of speaking. For some reason, the fact that he is okay with how he is perceived drives you crazy.

The bar is too busy to stick around and deal with the two of them any longer. You turn around, a group of people smushing against the bar top, trying to get your attention.

Yet even as you work, you are aware of Seonghwa’s eyes on you, like a shark sliding among coral reefs. It takes all your willpower not to look over your shoulder at him. How nice must it be to openly be so rude, to have no interest in acting the way society expects you to, and being unbothered by the fact no one likes you?

With a jolt, you realize that you are jealous of Seonghwa, of his openly annoyed attitude, and the fact you have to mask yours or it will impact your income. What is wrong with me? You think, mixing another drink. There is nothing to be envious of with Seonghwa. As far as you can tell, he is miserable and has one singular friend to tolerate him. But he clearly is okay with that and doesn’t have to fake things all day like you, a small voice wiggles in the back of your head as you go through the motions of making drinks and serving customers. Shut up, brain.

By the time you turn your attention back to their corner of the bar, there is money waiting for you and two cigarettes in an ashtray. As you sweep up their spot, your hand knocks into something under a napkin. Moving it to the side, you realize Seonghwa has forgotten his lighter. It is silver, overly ornate, expensive looking. You have seen him use the same lighter every time he is in here. Throw it out, says the cruel part of you.

But with a sigh, you shove it underneath the bar and return to work.

It doesn’t take long the next day for the clouds to change, sweeping in a summer storm that threatens to disrupt everyone’s lovely vacations and your chance to make more money at the bar. Since it is located directly on the beach, there is no choice but to close it for safety reasons.

That doesn’t apply to me, you think hurriedly, popping into the bar to get a few things done before the storm really kicks up. It isn’t that you are a workaholic, you just care a lot about this silly bar. It is your home away from home, a place where you spend most of your time, working more than any other employee, eventually being promoted as manager to take over the office side of things.

But last night had been so busy that you fell behind on some stuff. Catching up now will be fine. Just an hour or two before the storm gets too bad and then you’ll go home. Easier to get it done now versus trying to handle all of it upon reopening.

In the gloom and doom of the storm clouds, the bar is in complete disarray. The storm seemed to usher in a sense of scurrying about, tourists and your coworkers leaving upon closing without fully finishing their drinks or cleaning up.

Staring at the mess, biting your bottom lip, you know what everyone had been thinking: bar will be closed tomorrow, we can skimp out on finishing our duties and deal with it when it opens again. But the idea of handling all of this later…no, better just to clean it all up now. You glance out the window, taking note of the waves growing thunderous, before hurrying around the bar. Scooping up empty glasses and cleaning them, sweeping the floor, trying to organize the chairs – you are lost in making sure the bar is clean again and don’t even realize someone has entered until –

“Helloooo?” comes that familiar drawl, your head snapping up to see a shadow in the entranceway.

“We’re closed.”

The person steps forward and your hunch proves to be correct – Seonghwa is there, bathed in the soft lights of the bar. He has a leather jacket that is a size too large, hanging slightly off his frame, his blonde hair tousled from the wind, jeans riddled with holes. You hadn’t been expecting to see him, jolted at the sight of Seonghwa against the backdrop of the incoming storm.

“I think I left something here the other night.”

You know he is talking about the lighter. For a brief, petty second you think about lying and asking what he is talking about. But the moment passes as quickly as it pops into your brain.

“Yeah, I have it.” You go around to the back of the bar top, glancing at him, “You came here even with this storm rolling in just to get your lighter?”

“Yes, that’s right,” is all Seonghwa says. You get the feeling there is more to this – something to explain why Seonghwa would come the very next day to the bar just to retrieve a singular lighter – but it is clear he doesn’t want to go into it with you.

You pull the lighter out of the drawer, sliding it across the counter as he walks over. It catches the light, winking coyly at you. When he reaches for the lighter, your fingers touch briefly, an electric sizzle that you ignore.

“You know we are closed today for the storm. Why did you come by anyway?” You can’t help but ask.

“Figured you would be here.”

“What makes you say that?”

Seonghwa shrugs, slipping the lighter in the pocket of his jeans. “You usually are.”

For some reason, this irks you. Perhaps it is the casual tone he uses in assuming that he knows anything about you or the fact he is right. You aren’t exactly sure why it annoys you. Only that it does.

“Well, you have your precious lighter now. You can go.”

Seonghwa arches one eyebrow delicately, his gaze sweeping across the bar top. “You know, it’s starting to rain. Soon enough, it will be too dangerous to leave the bar and too dangerous to stay.”

“The bar will be fine.” You bristle, “It’s a summer storm, not a hurricane. No need for the theatrical warning.”

Instead of leaving, Seonghwa sits down on a bar stool, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the counter. “There is a hostility you show me that no one else is privy to. Have I done something wrong?”

You stop for a second, a dirty beer glass in one hand, glaring at him. “You’re rude. You know that you’re rude. Surely, you aren’t here playing innocent.”

“Rude?” Seonghwa actually looks surprised before his brows furrow, “Is this because I told Hongjoong that new drink of yours is weak?”

“That’s just one thing in the many. You’re overly blunt. We’ve had to kick you out of here a few times for starting fights –”

At this, Seonghwa protests. “I didn’t start those. They just didn’t like what I had to say.”

You keep going. “There’s being honest and just being rude. You cross that every time I see you.” Turning your back to him, flicking on the water in the sink, you began to viciously scrub one of the beer glasses.

Silence settles across the bar. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on you once again. Then, there is a click of the lighter followed by the inhale of smoking on the cigarette. You don’t know why the anger that buzzes through your skin feels like something so alive – as if Seonghwa is poking through the delicate shield you wrap your body in every day and letting acid leak out.

“Oh,” He finally says, so softly that you might have imagined it if he didn’t keep speaking, “I get it now.”

“Great. So, you have your lighter now. You can go.”

“Hongjoong is really partial to this bar. For me, it’s whatever. There are about fifty other bars like this along the beach. But he says something about the atmosphere speaks to him,” Another shrug, “He’s an artist. I can’t pretend to know what he sees. But I’ve come here enough times to be familiar with everyone who works at this place. And you’re by far the fakest person here.”

You drop the beer glass in the sink. Luckily, it doesn’t shatter although the side of it cracks. His words are a verbal smack to the side of the head, a sudden spotlight on you that was not requested.

Spinning around to stare at him, you sputter, “Excuse me?”

Seonghwa, who has his cigarette placed delicately elegantly between his lips, stares at you with an expression that is utterly nonchalant. Some of the smoke curls around his face but his eyes remain luminous. “You heard me. I watch the way you smile at tourists, fake laugh at their boring stories, collect the tip money and shove it in your pocket. Every movement of yours is artificial. In reality, you’re pissed that playing sweet and kind is how to make money. You believe that’s the only way to go about it. See, I don’t care if someone likes me or not, and I speak my mind without fear of backlash and you envy me for it. You resent me for it.”

His words strike true, hitting the chink in your armor in a way that you were not prepared for. How dare Seonghwa, this man that cares so little about what people think of him, who can so easily navigate life and whatever he does for a living that he needs to not impress anyone or fake laugh his way for a better tip? Everyone knows that society is built on layers of phony bullshit. Does he think he can somehow skip all of that?

“Come on, admit it.” He nudges you with his words, “It’s just us here, after all. No customers.”

The wind is picking up now, the shuttered windows rattling a little in their frames. Seonghwa is right – not just about the fact you resent him but also that the storm is quickly approaching and that you should leave in the next few minutes to get home safely. But your feet remain rooted to the spot, anxious to finish this discussion with him. All the words that have bounced around in your head finally exploding from your mouth.

“Fine,” You grind out, “Yes, it’s annoying how you say whatever you want and no one blinks. What do you even do for a living anyway? It can’t be any job that deals with people. You are entirely off putting. And yes, I do resent you for it. Every day I come to this bar and serve drinks to dull tourists and pretend I care about anything they are saying just in the hopes they’ll give me a nice tip. I tolerate men and their shitty attempts at flirting with me thinking they will get a discount. I smile the entire time and then you just sit at the bar and start fights and make snide remarks about how I make a drink and I think ‘what makes you so special that you don’t have to play by the same rules as everyone else’? So, yes, that’s why I don’t like you. Also, my drinks are just fine including the Blue Hawaii. You’re just a dick.” You finally fall silent, feeling like a deflated balloon, having let everything out of your system.

Seonghwa grins. It is an expression you have seen before. One night some guy got so sick of him running his mouth he threw a punch. Seonghwa had grinned like that before dropping the man to the floor, the smile not dropping even as your boss tossed him out of the bar with a warning. Not a ban, of course. Seonghwa can somehow evade that as well.

He takes a long inhale off the cigarette, tapping some ash into the tray, going, “If you hate all the fake shit, why don’t you quit? Get a job with less human interaction.”

“Like you?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m a mechanic,” Seonghwa announces and you try to imagine him underneath a car fixing things. Your brain cannot conjure up the image at all. “Everyone knows we are gruff assholes.”

“I make good money here.”

Seonghwa gestures to the empty bar. “I don’t see anyone else here before this storm, cleaning dirty dishes and finishing paperwork or whatever. It’s evident it isn’t just about the money. You love working here.”

Growing weary of his uncanny ability to see through your deflecting, and hearing the rain beginning to strike the roof, you reply, “Alright, you caught me. Yes, I do love working here. I care a lot about this tourist trap bar and making sure it’s clean and orderly. I like all my co-workers. Even my boss. Sure, I could leave but then I miss out on a place I enjoy working at.”

“But you hate the customers.”

“I don’t hate them. I just wish I didn’t have to be so fake all the time. That’s all.”

“You know, I bet if you just eased up a bit on the whole artificial personality you think you need to make money, you might not resent me so much. And you might even find it is unnecessary to be fake all the time. Who told you that you needed to do that, anyway?” Seonghwa crushes the cigarette in the ashtray, sliding off the bar stool and slipping his lighter in the pocket of his jeans. “Maybe try it out sometime.”

“Yes, great, thanks,” Your tone is dry, “I didn’t ask for any advice nor your sage wisdom about my job though.”

Seonghwa runs his fingers through his blonde hair, shrugging at the same time. He looks entirely unbothered, turning around and heading to the door, giving you a small wave as if he hadn’t just attempted to play therapist. There is a sudden pang in your chest for reasons unexplained and you open your mouth to…say what, exactly?

Before you can figure it out, Seonghwa opens the door and a gust of wind slams into the bar, knocking over a barstool. It clatters loudly to the floor as you scamper over to pick it up and he shuts the door again, looking over his shoulder.

“Time’s up. You can’t stay in the bar any longer. It isn’t safe.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you reply, “I don’t think I have time to get back to my apartment. I should just stay here.”

He gives an impatient shake of his head, some of the blonde hair falling in front of his eyes which he pushes impatiently away with his elegant fingers. “My place is only a few minutes away. Just come with me.”

At first, you want to protest. The last thing you want to experience is Seonghwa’s apartment. Waiting the storm out there will be awkward or weird. Didn’t you just explain why you don’t like him? The last thing you were expecting was an offer like this.

But there is a loud clap of thunder, enough to vibrate the floorboards and you know that he is right; it would be safer at his place and you simply don’t have enough time to cautiously cross town to your apartment.

Seonghwa is waiting, one hand flat against the door to push it open. His leather jacket is well worn, clearly a favourite of his by the way it easily fits his frame. The temperature has dropped today due to the storm, allowing him to wear it for once. His jeans are so faded that you know the holes in them are natural versus buying them like that. Even his shoes have seen better days, worn out around the edges and covered in a thin layer of sand. He doesn’t look any different than usual and yet he feels entirely brand new for reasons that don’t make sense.

You nod, unable to reply verbally and Seonghwa pushes the door open, leading you into the beginning of the storm.

It is evident in mere seconds that going with Seonghwa is a good choice. The wind is already intense, the rain pelting you ruthlessly, the tops of the palm trees swaying and bending in an unnatural way. Seonghwa leads the way, cutting across the beach, glancing behind him every couple of seconds to make sure that you are still following as if an errant tree branch might send you flying.

The sidewalks are empty because of course no one else is running to check on their place of employment before a big summer storm. Your clothes are quickly soaked through from the downpour as you scamper after Seonghwa, who has his head lowered, crossing the street hastily towards an apartment complex that looks to be about five stories.

Ducking under the overhang, Seonghwa pushes open the doors to the apartment building and you follow, relieved to be out of the storm which is growing worse by the second.

In the silence of the lobby, Seonghwa turns to look at you. His hair is dripping wet, droplets of water falling off the strands and rolling down his leather jacket. His jeans are now dark blue, and there is a puddle forming on the floor from his soaking wet clothes.

“Wow,” You go, struggling to find something to say, “You do live close. No wonder you’re always at the bar.”

“Hongjoong likes it, I told you,” Seonghwa replies curtly.

Suddenly acutely aware that your clothes are sticking to your body in a manner Seonghwa has never seen before and confused as to why that is making you feel unnerved, you gesture to him. “Come on, show the way.”

He leads you to an old elevator which makes an alarming creaking noise as it takes you to the fourth floor. Hoping the power doesn’t go out on the ride up, you glance at Seonghwa out of the corner of your eyes. His fingers are curled around the edges of his leather jacket, the sound of the wet fabric drip drip dripping onto the floor. His eyelashes are so long that you are envious and you can feel his body heat filling up the small space. This elevator ride is roughly four hundred years long, you think, waiting for the doors to open.

When they finally do, it is only a few seconds down the hall before Seonghwa stops at one of the doors, inserts his key and steps into his apartment.

You have never thought of what Seonghwa’s living space would look like. The place is small with an even tinier kitchen, and a window looking across the street. The living room is sparse with mismatched furniture clearly picked up from thrift stores to save money, not to create any cohesive theme.

“If you go to the window and crane your neck, you can see a sliver of the ocean sometimes. I get charged extra for the ‘ocean view’,” Seonghwa remarks, tossing his keys on a small table by the front door and slipping out of his jacket.

It is chilly in his apartment and your skin breaks out in goosebumps. You rub your arms, trying not to show how cold you are. But between your wet clothes and the temperature, you let out an involuntary shiver.

“Hang on,” He says, ducking into what you assume is his bedroom.

Unsure what to do, you move a little deeper into the living room after removing your shoes. The storm is now in full swing, the sky incredibly dark, and the rain coming down so heavily that you can’t see across the street. Turning your attention from the window, you wander over to look at a painting on the wall. It is of a diner, the yellow lights spilling out across the sidewalks covered in snow, with a strange looking portal behind it.

“I know it’s a weird painting but I found it at a garage sale and I just felt drawn to it,” Seonghwa’s voice is startling, looking over as he approaches you, “You have anything like that in your place?”

“Surrealist art I got at a garage sale?”

“Something you’re drawn to.” He holds out a small stack of clothes, “Please go change before you ruin my cheap carpet.”

Realizing you are dripping wet in the middle of his living room, you hastily take the clothes he is offering. Your fingers brush against his and you dislike how it makes your heart skip a beat. Unable to look at Seonghwa, you mumble, “Are these yours?”

“They’re old.” He takes a step back, “I’m going to go change too.”

The bathroom is next to his bedroom and you duck inside, closing the door at the same time he closes his. The bathroom is clean and minimalist, a far cry from the usual ones you have seen from single men living alone. You take note of his electric toothbrush, razor, shaving cream, and poke your head curiously into the shower. Come on, where is it? You think, wanting to discover what is a staple in these bathrooms: the 15 in 1 shampoo and conditioner that also doubles as body wash, toothpaste, mouthwash, dish soap, motor oil and countless other things. But no such thing exists. Seonghwa has his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash all in separate bottles neatly tucked onto the shower shelf.

Perturbed, you turn your attention to changing, peeling your wet clothes off and slipping into Seonghwa’s warm, clean ones. Once dressed, you peer at your reflection in the mirror, trying to sort through the events of tonight. Seonghwa, who has only ever been annoying, is now someone you are stuck with until the storm finishes.

“In reality, you’re pissed that playing sweet and kind is how to make money. You believe that’s the only way to go about it. See, I don’t care if someone likes me or not, and I speak my mind without fear of backlash and you envy me for it. You resent me for it.”

Seonghwa’s words from earlier bounce around in your head. Could he be right that you didn’t have to put on an act all the time at work? Or in general? Seonghwa, who seemingly paid little attention to what people thought of him, entirely comfortable in his own skin, moving with an ease that you envied so much it turned to disliking him. Now, you are getting the feeling that you have made snap judgements about him because your own emotions got in the way.

You can’t figure out where you learned that being phony at work meant more money. Was that something you just told yourself over and over again until it became your truth? His question bangs around in your brain.

A loud boom of thunder shakes you out of your thoughts and back to the present. That’s right, massive storm, stuck with Seonghwa. You can sort out your mental state later.

Exiting the bathroom, holding your ball of wet clothes, you go to Seonghwa’s bedroom door to ask him where to put them when you realize with a jolt his door is ajar. You don’t mean to stare, truly, you don’t, but it is the sight of Seonghwa tugging a shirt over his head that renders you immobile. Didn’t he say he was a mechanic? Is there a reason his body looks like that? Your heart is racing like a horse using the final burst of strength to cross the finish line while staring at his well-toned stomach and the outline of his abs for a brief moment as the fabric of the shirt covers him up.

Taking a step back, averting your gaze, you stand there awkwardly, thoughts wiped clear as Seonghwa opens the door and looks at you.

“Uh, wasn’t sure where to put these,” You mumble, unable to look at him.

“Normally, I’d put them outside to dry. I can lay them out across a chair if that’s alright.”

Thrusting the clothes at him, you nod. Seonghwa takes them, his fingers once again touching yours, eliciting sparks as you take a step away. He doesn’t seem to notice. Of course he doesn’t – you aren’t sure what has shifted that you are suddenly getting awkward around him.

There is a flash of lightning so bright that your vision turns white for a brief second and the power flickers before dying completely. Standing in the semi-darkened room, you turn your gaze towards the window. The storm is now a vicious beast. You doubt power will be returning anytime soon. If it wasn’t for Seonghwa, you would have either been stuck inside the bar during this or still attempting to cross the city to get back home.

In a begrudging tone, you say, “You were right. I was cutting it too close at the bar. Thanks for letting me come over.” Showing gratitude to Seonghwa is new and the words feel foreign on your tongue.

He goes over to the window, shuttering the curtains. “I get jumpy having the windows exposed during storms.” His tone is completely neutral – he doesn’t care if you find that strange because he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him or what makes him comfortable. “Also, it’s no problem.”

Seonghwa sits down on the couch, stretching out his long legs. He wears just a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants now, his hair still damp from being caught in the rain.

Not wanting to just stand there awkwardly, you gingerly sit down on the other side of the couch to put a little distance between the two of you. What is wrong with me? You think to yourself. Sure, it had always been evident to you that Seonghwa is attractive. But it was as if having him crack open the shell that carefully protected the logic of why you disliked him completely changed your perception. And now you are stuck in his apartment.

“Why did you really come back to the bar just for a lighter?” You know that the question is pushy, given asking it earlier already, but the silence settling in the apartment is stifling and it is the first sentence to pop into your head.

Seonghwa shifts slightly, the couch springs squeaking a little from old age. “It’s an important object to me. When I first moved here, I was entirely alone and had trouble keeping a job. Being blunt all the time doesn’t always work in my favor. I had worked a couple of retail jobs and kept getting fired for mouthing off. I was falling behind on rent and burning through my savings and stressing out. I felt stuck. See, I could turn into you and act fake all day at work and be resentful of people or be myself and be stressed out about money all the time. I wasn’t good at faking things. People could see through it immediately and I didn’t like how much energy I wasted. It burned me out.

I tinkered with cars in my spare time but hadn’t thought much of it until one night this car outside my last apartment broke down and the guy looked totally hopeless standing there, waiting for a tow truck. I don’t know what it was about him that made me stop. I think it was the expression on his face – a total fish out of water, you know?

So, I stopped and asked him if he wanted me to take a look at it. The guy said sure because he couldn’t afford the tow truck costs. I ran upstairs and got the tools I had and spent an hour on the car. The truck was running late which gave me extra time to fix it. When it started up, the man looked so relieved, explained he just moved here a week ago and everything that could go wrong was going wrong. He offered to pay me but I refused because he already told me how the tow truck cost was gonna clean him out. He left. I didn’t think much of it.

A week later, the guy is outside my apartment building when I get home from doing a shift at some shitty store on the other side of town. At the time, I didn’t have my motorcycle so I had to walk or take the bus everywhere.”

The mention of a motorcycle brings you up short. However, it does strangely fit this new Seonghwa that you are learning about – you can easily picture him on it, tearing through the streets to get to his destination, the wind whipping through his hair.

“I asked him how long he had been waiting there and he said an hour and gave me the lighter. Said he noticed me smoking as I tried to fix the car, that the lighter was gifted to him a couple years back and I would get more use out of it than he would. I tried to refuse because it looked expensive but he wouldn’t hear of it.” Seonghwa pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts, “The whole thing made me wonder if I could get hired working on cars. It would mean not dealing with people and the little bit I would interact, no one would care if I was blunt or too honest. People need their cars fixed, after all. I got hired a few weeks later at the shop I still work at. So, the lighter represents a turning point in my life, see? That’s why it’s important to me. It’s a reminder. And I was worried about leaving it in the bar in case the storm got really bad and damaged the place or something.”

When Seonghwa had closed the curtains earlier from the storm, he hadn’t closed them all the way. Now, a sliver of dark light crosses his face, slicing cleanly across one eye, his nose and cheek. He looks lost in the memory and you almost hate to shatter it. At the same time, you fight the urge to…what, exactly? You aren’t sure. Reach across and touch his cheek?

In a quiet voice, you ask, “It was Hongjoong, wasn’t it? The man whose car broke down?”

Seonghwa nods curtly. “That’s right.”

This time when the silence falls, it is more comfortable, like a favourite sweater rather than a smothering blanket.

At some point, you doze off. Perhaps it is the sound of the storm, the slightly humid temperature in the apartment or simply Seonghwa himself. Regardless of the reason, when you next open your eyes, you are staring at the back of his hand which rests on his knee.

As awareness creeps back into your body, the thunder booming louder than ever, realization strikes that you have fallen asleep against Seonghwa. Your head is resting on his shoulder, he has slumped down further on the couch, the scent of clean laundry and faint cinnamon filling your space. Shifting just a little, taking note of the steady rise and fall of his chest, you know that he is asleep as well.

The power is still out, and since it is the middle of summer, it is a bit too warm for your liking without air conditioning especially now that you have dried off from being caught in the rain earlier. You aren’t sure how long you two have been sleeping or what the time is. The apartment is incredibly dark, the storm still in full swing, a bit more ferocious than before. We must be right in the middle of it now, you think, your eyes closing again.

In the silence of the storm, being this close to Seonghwa, your body is acutely aware of the way you rest against him. Your heartrate is accelerated yet somehow at the same time you are comforted as well. Could it be possible that you understand Seonghwa to such an extent now that the jealously and annoyance is turning into…well, something else?

You casually date a lot but nothing ever clicks. The conversations are superficial or tedious and you grow bored after a couple of times seeing someone. Yet with Seonghwa, who has cleverly seen right through your pretense at work, and goads you to drop the act, you are at ease. How could your opinion on him change in a day?

Previously, you believed Seonghwa to live a miserable existence. Now, you realize he just lives a life on his own terms and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. He is content with one singular friend, a mechanic job, his small apartment and his motorcycle. He doesn’t lack for anything and you know if he did, he would make sure to have that added in his life. His blunt style of speaking isn’t because he is looking for a fight, he just is himself all the time.

You move a little, just enough to tilt your face to look up at his. His eyes are closed, eyelashes dark smears against his skin, lips parted slightly, some of his blonde hair falling forward. Biting down your bottom lip, feeling the heat of his body next to yours, your mind flickering back to the image of Seonghwa pulling his shirt down over his head, you realize another thing that has been quietly nestled underneath the jealously and annoyance – that perhaps attraction lurks as well.

Thunder crackles so loudly that you jolt a little, startled by the volume. Seonghwa lets out a soft murmur in his sleep, his eyes opening a little. Your breath catches. You are dangerously close to him, close enough that it would take half a second to lean forward and…

Seonghwa looks drowsy, his eyes half lidded, but there is intensity behind the gaze that you feel all over your skin. So close now that you can feel his breath against your skin…and before you can question the urge or second guess yourself, you cross that half second and press your lips against his.

If Seonghwa is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He returns the kiss immediately, starting off slow. Your head is light at the sensation of his lips against yours, your body responding in such a way that takes you by surprise. You want him in a way that you never expected, in a manner that propels you to bring your hand to the curve of his neck, drawing him even closer.

His breath catches, the kiss deepening, growing more urgent. Your mind displays all the times Seonghwa has come into the bar with Hongjoong, all the cigarettes he lit, the people he pissed off, the easy going way he moved without any hesitation. Yes, you have always taken notice of him and it wasn’t just because he irked you, was it?

Seonghwa’s breathing has quickened, his tongue slipping past your lips, your fingers curling around his hair as you lean into him. There is a fire blazing in your chest now, the urgency in which you need him growing by the second. One of his hands runs down your side, lingering on your hip but it isn’t enough. You want more. Briefly moving your hand that is on the back of his neck, you reach for his, pulling it upward towards your tits. He squeezes them immediately, groping you as a soft noise escapes from his mouth and tumbles into yours.

When you finally break the kiss, Seonghwa’s cheeks are flushed, and he is looking at you in such a manner that you can feel it all the way down to your toes.

“Can we go to your room?” You ask breathlessly.

Seonghwa nods, standing up, and holding his hand out for you to take. You reach for him, his hand soft against yours as he leads you towards the bedroom. Perhaps it is from making out or just the fact the power is out, but your body is incredibly warm and it is all you can do not to just throw all the clothes you’re wearing off onto the floor.

The blinds in Seonghwa’s room are still open, showing the view of another apartment complex next door and a rainswept street. There is no sun to be seen, nothing but the darkness of the clouds and the rain thrashing against the window. The room itself is barely illuminated and when you reach for Seonghwa’s shirt to tug it off him, half of his body is bathed in shadow. Tossing his shirt to the floor, your fingers running up along his abs to his shoulders, you pull him back in for another kiss.

You seem to fit perfectly against him, his hands pressing against your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You can feel the tent in his sweatpants against your thigh. The kiss breaks, your lips grazing his, your heart beating hard in your chest. Your fingers rest in his hair and Seonghwa leans his head back a little.

“You can pull on my hair,” He says in a low voice, “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind or you want me to pull on your hair?”

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he replies, “I want you to pull on my hair.”

That is enough for you. With his hair wrapped around your fingers, you give a sharp pull as another kiss begins. He groans quietly, his lips traveling along your jaw, down your neck, nibbling along your skin as his hands slip between the waistband of the sweatpants you are borrowing and the top of your underwear.

Seonghwa moves down further, your sweatpants soon dropping to the floor as he hooks his thumbs along the sides of your underwear and pulls them downward. There is a flash of lightning, briefly filling the room with light, and you watch as Seonghwa falls to his knees in front of you, hands gripping your ass and squeezing it. When he tilts his face upwards to look at you, silently asking for permission, it is all you can do not to tell him to hurry up.

Instead you nod, sitting down on the bed. In one swift motion, Seonghwa yanks your underwear off and your legs circle around his head. His tongue probes your folds, dipping inside to taste your wetness as you bring one hand to his hair again, getting a good grip on it. Seonghwa spreads your lips apart gently, allowing him to insert his tongue into your wet hole, his groans muffled. As he works on tasting you, his nose occasionally brushes against your clit, driving you crazy. Every time that happens, you reflexively pull on his hair which only seems to work him up more.

Another flash of lightning. The curve of his neck, his shoulders propping your legs up, blonde hair against your hand. His tongue darts upwards, one single flick against your nub, driving a gasp out of you. Seonghwa brings his tongue back down, clearly teasing you. You wiggle your hips urgently. The only thing you can focus on is him between your thighs, the desire for a man you didn’t even realize you had an eye on until today. It is becoming so overwhelming that you pull sharply on his hair to illustrate your desire.

The hair pulling only works Seonghwa up more, his breathing ragged against your cunt as he finally moves his mouth to your clit, sucking on it softly for a few seconds just to heighten your passion. Your head rolls back, eyes closing tightly as he switches between sucking and rolling his tongue across your swollen nub. You cannot help yourself – you are grinding your cunt against his face, your grip on his hair firm, so close to finishing –

Seonghwa stops, pulling away so abruptly that your hold breaks. It is like someone turning off a light switch. A whine escapes you, looking down at him in frustration. He stands up, removing his sweatpants and boxers, his hand wrapping around his hard cock to stroke it.

“You want me to fuck you?” His voice has dropped an octave, his hair a mess from all the pulling.

The ‘yes’ that comes from you is more like a whine, your hand falling to your clit, rubbing yourself as you take in the sight of him.

Seonghwa crawls onto the bed, his body sliding over yours. Light headed again, your hands come to rest on his sides, needing him to fuck you already.

But he is still teasing you, his lips brushing against your neck, one hand groping your tits as he goes, “You sure? You aren’t too offended about what I said about your Blue Hawaii drink? Don’t want to tell me off for not being fake nice enough?”

The irritation that blooms in your chest is very familiar although strangely enough it only seems to further your desire. Impatiently, you reply, “You’re still wrong about the drink. It’s plenty strong. If you had it again, you would – ah –” The rest of your complaint is lost in a moan as Seonghwa slides the full length of himself inside your wet cunt.

Seonghwa goes still for a moment, breathing uneven, as he says, “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

He begins to rock his hips, getting used to being inside you. Your hands skim across his sides to his back, feeling his muscles move underneath your fingertips. As he thrusts increase in speed, your back arches as you start to moan his name. Seonghwa’s lips are against your neck, kissing you there, your heart thrumming underneath each touch.

“Bite me,” You say desperately and he does so, leaving a trail along your neck that you will have to cover up the next time you work. When he finishes with one side, he switches to the other, his teeth biting along your skin as his cock is buried in your cunt.

You try to rock your hips to meet his thrusts but his pace is increasing, his body curled around yours. His hands move from the side to under your body, gripping your ass tightly against his palms as he rams his cock. The position forces your legs apart more as he drills into your cunt, fucking you into the mattress as the storm rages outside.

Your hands find his hair again, tugging and pulling on it just to make Seonghwa fuck you faster. He is panting, his grip on your ass tight, your legs bouncing with each jerk of his hips. You are going to cum soon, between him working your cunt with his mouth earlier and the angle and speed, it is pushing you closer to the edge every moment.

“Hwa,” You gasp, “I’m going – I’m going to cum.”

He doesn’t reply, just brings his lips against yours, not slowing down. His tongue is in your mouth as your climax begins, making your entire body hum and tingle as your pussy tightens around his cock. You try to move against him, gripping his hair so hard that you must be pulling on it unknowingly.

“In me,” You beg against his mouth as your climax only grows stronger, “Cum in me.”

Hwa squeezes your ass, driving his cock all the way in you, letting out a guttural moan as he begins to cum. He goes still, spilling inside you as your pussy milks his cock, feeling the warmth mingle with yours as the two of you climax together in a mess of noise and sweat.

Panting, Seonghwa slowly pulls out of you before flopping onto his back, running his hands through his hair, his eyes closed. Lightning fills the room again as you turn your face to look at him, trying to catch your breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, the darkness of the room settling back in. It’s been ages since you’ve had sex and last time was nothing like this. It had never been quite like this.

You know sleep is coming and don’t stop it. You’ll figure out everything later. Right now, it is enough to be here in Seonghwa’s room with him.

The bar suffers minimal damage in the storm and opens a couple days afterwards. The night sky is full of stars, the tourists are back to bustling in and you are thinking of Seonghwa.

Okay, so you panicked upon waking up next to him. In the morning light, the storm having finally broke through while sleeping, Seonghwa had turned on his side at some point, fast asleep with his back facing you.

The full force of what you had done hit you then like a train. You had slept with Seonghwa, of all people, someone you hadn’t thought particularly kindly about…until he had waltzed into the bar looking for the lighter. A few conversations with him was all it took to shatter the careful shield around yourself and how you perceived him. And then what did you do? You fucked him.

So, yes, you hurriedly dressed back into your now dry and stiff clothes and snuck out of his apartment like a thief. You didn’t have his phone number. He didn’t have yours. Surely, he wouldn’t show up at the bar now, right? Whatever happened there was some strange occurrence brought on from the storm.

Because what could happen next? You two start dating? Was that even a possibility? No, would you even want such a thing? Could you see yourself with Seonghwa? (Yes, came the tiny voice in the back of your head which you tried to squash.)

“Sorry, I don’t have that, sold out of that brand of tequila earlier. Our inventory shipment got delayed cuz of the storm.” You tell a tourist that is interrupting your Seonghwa brooding.

They scowl, “Can’t you go down to the liquor store and get some?”

“Can’t you?” You fire back without thinking before realizing that you have slipped up – your careful façade of bullshit around tourists slipped.

Their friend snickers loudly, tugging on their sleeve. “Come on, you sound like a dick.” They say when a glare is fired their way.

You think the tourist is going to storm out but instead they look a little chagrined. Their friend leads them away towards a table where they sit down and start revisiting the drink menu. Relief sweeps through you. Maybe Seonghwa is right, you think tentatively. Sure, you couldn’t pull an attitude like that at a retail job but this is a bar, after all. Maybe you didn’t need to be so phony all the time. How could I spend one day with this man and be rethinking everything like this?

When the crowd thins out, Seonghwa is standing there as if conjured up from your thoughts. Taken aback, your heart freezing in your chest, you stare openly at him. Tonight, he is just wearing a sleeveless blue shirt, exposing the muscles in his arms easily, his hair tousled by the wind coming off the ocean. His jeans are riddled with holes as usual and he holds his typical quiet confidence. Shockingly, Hongjoong is not with him.

Seonghwa sits at the bar, glowering at someone who tried to take the stool first, sending the person scampering off a few seats away. He looks pointedly at your neck which is covered up careful in foundation to hide the bite marks.

“What do you want?” You ask, the words coming out far more hostile than intended because your heart is galloping.

Seonghwa clasps his slender hands together and you think of the way they felt gripping your ass as he fucked you, thighs squeezing together at the memory.

“Your phone number.”

The words take you by surprise. “Why?” Demanding rude tone – great, you are doing a wonderful job at ruining this.

“So I could ask you out,” He replies, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

You hesitate for a moment. “You want to see me again?”

Seognhwa has the lighter in his hand, the flame kicking up, cutting across the top of the cigarette and lighting the tip. “You’re not interested in seeing me again? Only want to hang out when a storm rolls in?”

Feeling weirdly flustered, you say, “No, that isn’t true. I want to see you again.”

He puffs on the cigarette, staring at you evenly. I really like him, you think and as terrifying as that is, you want to follow up on it and see where it goes with this man who swept in and changed everything so quickly and easily.

“Well, get your phone out then so I can give you my number.” You gesture to him.

Resting the cigarette in between his lips, he brings his phone out, adding your number when you recite it. When finished, he goes, “One more thing too. Want a drink.”

“What beer?” You ask, noticing a particularly large group of visitors entering the bar at that time, momentarily distracted from Seonghwa.

“I’ll take a Blue Hawaii,” He says casually.

Your gaze falls back on Seonghwa and he doesn’t look away. In the hum and buzz of the bar, there is now only the two of you. You know what ordering this drink again illustrates – I’m giving it another chance because I want you to take a leap with me. This is bigger than Seonghwa asking for your phone number and you both know it.

For a crazy second, you want to lean forward and kiss him in front of everyone. But you don’t, remembering that you are still at work. Instead, you grab a glass off the shelf, give a small shrug and go, “Alright.”

As you mix the drink, Seonghwa puffs on his cigarette, the smoke curling upwards, even ignoring when someone accidently jostles him hard enough to almost spill the Blue Hawaii as you hand it to him. He is too busy staring at you. You have a feeling he has always been staring like this. Just like you had been under the guise of irritation. Maybe it has always been just the two of you in the bar, circling around one another until the storm brought everything together.

Seonghwa orders another when the first one is finished.

the end.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fics #kpop fic #blue hawaii #100 notes #500 notes

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