you sigh, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “thanks for the food. it was really good.”

“it was just pasta,” woonhak protests, but he grins at you nevertheless.

you grab your sweater and pull it on, glancing outside at the swaying trees across the street under the amber lamplight. “it looks windy out there.”

“does it?” woonhak’s voice carries a note of concern, and you turn back to him with a smile.

“it’ll be okay!” you grab your backpack and head over to the entrance of his apartment. slipping your feet into your shoes, you kneel down to tie the laces. “bye, woonhak.”

“wait!”

you look up at him getting up from his chair, waving a hand at you as he disappears into his bedroom. “wait there!”

you stand in the doorway, confused, shoelaces only half-tied as you stand back up. you hear him rummaging around, the soft thud of the closet door closing, and then he’s back, rushing towards you with a smile on his face and folded fabric in his hands.

“come here,” he says softly, his fingers beckoning you towards him. something in your heart stutters as you oblige, taking off your shoes again to join him in the middle of his living room.

woonhak unfolds his jacket from his arms, stepping into your space to drape it around your shoulders. “you’ll be cold with just what you’re wearing,” he murmurs. he glances up at you, and you can see yourself reflected back in his dark irises.

oh.

heat rising to your cheeks, you can only nod mutely. you grab the sides of the dark brown fabric, feeling its softness between your fingertips. it’s solid, it’s warm. you pull your arms through the sleeves, and all you can think about is how he probably never thinks twice about wearing this jacket on a cold morning.

he’s the one who wears this.

and now it’s you.

as you zip up the jacket, he moves over to his chair, where he’s kept a scarf hanging over the back. he picks it up, shaking it out as he comes back over to you. “this will help you too”, he says, wrapping the knit fabric around your neck.

what makes your heart pound so hard in your ears isn’t the fact that you’re wearing his clothes, not really.

it’s the fact that he’s so gentle.

earlier, with giving you the jacket. and now this. he loops the scarf once, twice around your neck, adjusting it so the hanging ends look even to any onlooker. he pulls the edges up around your ears, his knuckles brushing your cheeks, and you pray to whatever god is looking down on you that he doesn’t notice the heat radiating off your skin.

“all good?” he asks softly, and you nod.

“warm and toasty,” you croak out after a moment, and the smile he gives you is somehow so unlike him, yet perfectly woonhak at the same time: small, yet it puffs up his cheeks and crinkles the edges of his sparkling eyes.

“okay,” he breathes, his hands resting on your arms for just a moment longer before he steps back. “i’ll let you go now.”

i don’t want to leave, you think, but you turn anyway. away from the warmth of woonhak’s apartment, away from the warmth of him.

well. perhaps you’re not quite turning completely away. after all, with woonhak’s jacket and scarf, it kind of feels like his warmth is surrounding you.

like a hug.

he watches as you crouch down, tying the laces of your shoes properly this time, and smiles as you stand back up. “bye, y/n,” he says, giving you a small wave.

“bye, woonhak,” you say, waving back. “thank you for the jacket. and the scarf.”

his smile grows wider. “it’s nothing. stay warm out there, okay?”

“mhm,” you nod, and you know that no matter how strongly the wind blows tonight, you’ll be warm.

٠ ࣪⭑ © starriniqhts 2026, all rights reserved.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ want to check out the planetarium's other exhibits?

The couch is too small for both of them, but Woonhak doesn't seem to care. She has Jongseob crowded against the armrest, one knee wedged between her thighs, her mouth already on Jongseob's neck like she's trying to prove a point.

"You're so tense," Woonhak mumbles against her skin, teeth grazing just enough to make Jongseob's breath hitch. "Relax."

"Don't tell me what to do." Jongseob's hands fist in the back of Woonhak's shirt, pulling her closer anyway.

Woonhak laughs; low, mocking, the kind of laugh that makes Jongseob want to shove her off and kiss her stupid at the same time. "You're literally clinging to me right now."

"I'm not—"

"You are." Woonhak pulls back just enough to look at her, dark eyes gleaming. Her thumb traces Jongseob's bottom lip, pressing down slightly. "Your mouth says one thing, but your body? Totally different story."

Jongseob wants to argue. She really does. But then Woonhak's thumb slips past her lips, and her brain short-circuits.

"That's what I thought," Woonhak murmurs.

She kisses her then, hard and messy, all tongue and teeth and zero finesse. Not romantic. Desperate. The kind of kiss that says I don't know what this is but I can't stop. Jongseob kisses her back with the same energy, because that's the thing about them; they're never soft with each other. Soft would mean something. Soft would require talking about feelings, and neither of them is willing to go there.

Woonhak's hand slides under her shirt, palm flat against her stomach, and Jongseob gasps into her mouth.

"Cold," she hisses.

"Shut up." Woonhak's fingers trail higher, nails dragging just enough to leave red marks. "You like it."

Jongseob bites her lip and Woonhak groans, pulling back to watch the way her teeth sink into the skin.

"You're so annoying," Jongseob says, breathless.

"And yet." Woonhak's hand stills, right below her ribs. "You keep coming back."

Jongseob's jaw tightens. It's true, and they both know it. No matter how many times Woonhak pulls away, no matter how many times she acts like Jongseob is just another warm body, Jongseob keeps showing up. Because when Woonhak looks at her like this— like she's the only thing in the room worth seeing— it feels like enough.

It isn't. But it feels like it.

"Maybe I'm just bored," Jongseob says, forcing her voice flat.

Woonhak's eyes flicker, something sharp and dangerous behind them. "Bored?"

"Yeah." Jongseob shoves at her shoulder, trying to flip their positions. Woonhak doesn't budge. "You're not that special, Hak."

Woonhak grabs her wrists, pins them above her head in one swift motion. "Liar."

"Get off—"

"Say it again." Woonhak's face is inches from hers, breath hot against her lips. "Say I'm not special."

Jongseob's heart hammers. She feels the heat of Woonhak's body pressing her into the cushions, smells the faint vanilla of her perfume mixed with something sharper— frustration, maybe. Or want.

She opens her mouth to say it. To lie again.

Woonhak kisses her before she can, swallowing whatever bullshit is about to come out. Rougher this time. Almost punishing. Jongseob's wrists ache under Woonhak's grip, and she arches into it, because that's what she does. She takes what Woonhak gives her, even when it hurts.

When Woonhak finally pulls back, they're both breathing hard.

"You're such a mess," Woonhak whispers, and there's something almost tender in her voice now, buried under all the sarcasm. "You know that?"

"You're one to talk." Jongseob's voice cracks, and she hates it. "You can't even decide if you want me or not."

Woonhak goes still.

"I want you." Too fast. Then, quieter: "I just don't know what that means."

Jongseob stares at her. For once, Woonhak isn't smirking. Her face is open, raw in a way Jongseob rarely sees. It makes her chest ache.

"Then figure it out." Jongseob's voice is sharp. "Because I can't keep doing this."

"Keep doing what?"

"This." Jongseob gestures vaguely between them. "The back and forth. The—you kiss me like you're trying to kill me, and then you leave. And I'm supposed to just... wait? Be okay with that?"

Woonhak's grip on her wrists loosens. She looks almost guilty, which is maybe the worst part.

"I don't mean to," she starts.

"Yes, you do." Jongseob cuts her off, voice cutting through the haze. "You know exactly what you're doing. You just don't care enough to stop."

The silence that follows is heavy. Woonhak's eyes search hers, and Jongseob can see the war happening behind them— the part of her that wants to run, and the part that wants to stay.

Finally, Woonhak leans down, presses her forehead against Jongseob's.

"I care," she whispers. "I just don't know how to show it."

Jongseob's throat tightens. "Try."

Woonhak kisses her again, softer this time. Slower. Like she's trying to memorize the shape of Jongseob's mouth. Not frantic or desperate— careful. Intentional.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shining.

"Harder," Jongseob whispers, almost like a dare. "Love me harder."

Woonhak's breath hitches. Her hand comes up to cup Jongseob's jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

"Okay," she says softly. "Okay."

And she does.

creds: red lace by @pixopix, black lace by @strangergraphics, please support by @dollywons ♡

tags: @tsanho ⸝⸝ @pupillary ⸝⸝ @taestulipss ⸝⸝ @leehanaholic ⸝⸝ @beomtomie ⸝⸝ @mwotgata ⸝⸝ @kaixlix ⸝⸝ @haede-shi ⸝⸝ @ivehan ⸝⸝ @angelwings-fly ⸝⸝ @kjunebuggie ⸝⸝ @niiqv ⸝⸝ @haniipie [wanna be tagged in my next fic? comment on the reader registry!!]