When Love Smells Like Tangerines | idol!Seungkwan x Reader | angst fluff
Guys, if you haven’t watched When Life Gives You Tangerines yet, go watch it. I just had to write a story about Seungkwan this drama truly inspired me..🍊
Jeju always smelled like tangerines.
And for Seungkwan, that scent had always meant home—sunlight dripping through trees, wind tangled in the corners of childhood, and a voice. Her voice. The girl with tangerine-stained fingers and eyes full of storms.
He loved her first.
She let him go first.
They were inseparable once—neighbors, best friends, the kind of love that grows like roots, so deep it takes part of you when it’s ripped out. Seungkwan had been ready to stay, to anchor his life in her. Until she told him not to.
Until she broke his heart on purpose.
It was supposed to be their last walk through the orchard before he left for Seoul. Seungkwan had been buzzing for weeks—he’d passed the auditions. He was finally going to be a trainee. He was going to become an idol. The island wasn’t big enough to hold the size of his dream anymore.
She waited until they reached the hill overlooking the sea.
“I’m not coming to the station tomorrow,” she said. Her voice was flat. Cold. It didn’t match the way her hands trembled behind her back.
Seungkwan frowned, confused. “Why not? I thought—”
“I don’t want to see you off.”
His chest tightened. “Y/N…”
“I don’t love you, Seungkwan.”
It was like the wind stopped.
She didn’t flinch. Her eyes stared straight ahead, not at him. “I never did. You made all of this up in your head. I would never marry someone like you.”
He took a step back like she’d slapped him. The words cut deeper than she could ever know. Because he had wanted that. A future. With her.
“Don’t follow me,” she added before walking away.
He didn’t see the way her hands covered her mouth the moment she was out of sight. He didn’t hear the way she broke down behind the trees, sobbing as if something vital had been ripped from her chest.
What Seungkwan never knew was what happened the night before. When his mother visited Y/N alone.
“He’ll never leave if you stay by his side. You say you love him? Then don’t ruin his future.”
“He’ll thank you one day, when he's living his dream in Seoul. But if you hold him here, he’ll regret you for the rest of his life.”
And like a fool in love, Y/N believed her.
Seoul, Present Day — Chuseok
The house was full of laughter and the aroma of grilled meat, but Seungkwan felt a disconnect. He smiled when expected, poured drinks, answered questions about schedules, promotions, concerts—but something inside him never quite settled. Even after all these years.
The ache never left.
Not fully.
It returned every time he saw a tangerine. Every time a melody reminded him of her laugh. He never reached out. He never forgave her. But he never stopped loving her either.
Later that night, long after the celebration had died down, he passed the kitchen and overheard something that shattered his world.
“You still think you did the right thing?” his father’s voice cut through the silence.
“She would’ve held him back,” his mother snapped. “And look at him now! He’s happy, isn’t he? Living his dream.”
“You don’t get to decide whose love is a burden!”
Seungkwan stood frozen. The air drained from his lungs.
“She loved him. She gave him up because you made her believe it was for the best.”
Then, his mother’s voice again, softer this time. “I did what I thought was right… I just wanted him to fly.”
But Seungkwan wasn’t flying. He was falling.
He stormed into the living room, eyes blazing.
“Is it true?” he demanded.
His parents turned, startled. His mother paled.
“Did you tell her to lie to me? Did you tell Y/N to break my heart?”
His father looked away. His mother stepped forward, trembling. “It was for your own good—”
“You don’t get to decide that!” he shouted. “You took her from me! You took everything!”
“She would’ve held you back—”
“She was the reason I wanted to succeed in the first place!” His voice cracked. “I would’ve left anyway. But I would’ve left knowing I had something—someone—to come back to.”
His fists clenched at his sides. “Do you know what it’s like? To wake up every day and wonder why the person you love suddenly hated you? I lived in that pain because of you.”
“I thought you’d be happy—”
“Don’t you dare.” His voice dropped, venomous. “You don’t get to say that after what you did.”
And then he turned and left.
He already knew where she lived.
Seoul, Present Day — Her Flower Shop
The bell above the door rang with a soft chime as Seungkwan pushed it open, the autumn air following him inside. The scent hit him instantly—peonies, jasmine, chrysanthemums… and something citrus, tucked into a vase on the counter.
She looked up, her hands full of wrapping paper, her expression freezing mid-motion.
He stood in the doorway, chest heaving, hair tousled from the wind and rage.
The scissors fell from her hand.
“You told me you didn’t love me,” he continued, stepping forward. “You said I was nothing to you.”
“You said you would never marry someone like me,” he spat, voice cracking. “Why? Why did you say that?”
She couldn’t speak. Her hands trembled, gripping the counter.
“I heard them. My parents. They admitted it. They forced you.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “It wasn’t—”
“You let me hate you!” he shouted. “You let me suffer all these years thinking I wasn’t enough!”
“I had to!” she cried. “I thought— I thought it was better that way!”
“For you!” she screamed. “For your dream! Your life in Seoul! I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed behind and regretted everything.”
He stared at her, chest heaving, rage mixing with heartbreak. “You were never the reason I would’ve stayed. You were the reason I wanted to leave and come back.”
She looked away, tears spilling.
“I couldn’t. I was a coward. I let them convince me it was love, sacrificing you.”
“I loved you,” he whispered. “I still do.”
He let out a laugh, broken and raw. “Do you know how pathetic that is? After everything? I still love you.”
She sobbed. “I never stopped loving you either.”
The silence after was deafening.
Outside, the wind stirred the leaves. A tangerine rolled off a nearby basket and hit the floor with a soft thud.
They didn’t kiss. Not right away. It wasn’t that kind of reunion.
But something had cracked open.
That night, they sat on the floor of her flower shop, surrounded by petals and memories, telling the truths they had buried for years.
He told her about the nights he cried backstage after concerts. She told him about the birthdays she spent alone, watching his interviews on TV.
And for the first time in years, it didn’t hurt to say his name.
It didn’t hurt to hear hers.
Epilogue — One Year Later, Jeju
There was a new house on the hill, overlooking the sea.
Inside, a vase of tangerines sat beside a framed photo—two kids, laughing under the sun, eyes bright with something eternal.
Seungkwan walked into the room, holding a bouquet.
“Customers keep asking for that ‘Y/N special’ arrangement,” he teased.
She smiled, setting down her sketchbook. “Well, maybe you should hire me full-time.”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Only if you promise not to break my heart again.”
“No promises,” she whispered, turning in his arms. “But I’ll never lie to you again.”
They kissed, soft and sweet.
Outside, the wind carried the scent of tangerines.
And this time, it wasn’t bitter.
