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BEE'S WONDERFUL LIBRARY — ;;;;
Welcome to the library where I put all my favorite fics in a post. This would probably get updated like once a year so that's why you should also check my reblogs on this acc ^^ @imbaebi is my main blog where I post my own fics.
Announcement
let's get to the good stuff, yeah?
★ Ateez shelf
You were supposed to tell him that night. You had practiced it a hundred times in your head, soft and careful and full of hope. But he didn’t even let you speak.
One fight. One sentence. One moment where everything broke. And just like that, you left.
Five years later, you come back with a life he knows nothing about. A daughter he has never met and a past that was never really over.
Pairing: Choi San x Reader (Y/N)
Tropes: idol au, secret child, second chance (but painful), lovers to strangers to…?, miscommunication (heavy), unresolved feelings, accidental reunion, angst with eventual healing
Genre: angst (primary), romance, drama, slice of life
Featuring: ATEEZ, Heewa (as mini San 🥲), original side character
Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 2
He should have been paying attention.
That was the first thing San realized, though it didn’t stop his thoughts from drifting anyway.
The conference room at the company building was quiet in a controlled, professional way. Not silent, but contained. Papers shifting. Chairs adjusting. Low voices moving in and out of conversation like background noise.
Across from him, a representative from the brand was explaining something about product positioning. Something about image. Something about how they wanted to be perceived.
San nodded at the right moments.
Or at least, he thought he did.
Beside him Hongjoong was speaking. His tone calm and focused as he asked a question about the campaign direction. Always composed. Always present.
San envied that sometimes.
The ability to stay grounded.
To keep his mind exactly where it needed to be.
Because his wasn’t.
Not today.
Not when…“…and we believe your group’s image aligns well with that,” the representative finished.
Hongjoong nodded slightly. “That makes sense.”
San leaned back in his chair just a little, letting his gaze drift for a second.
Beauty brand.
He didn’t even know why that was enough.
Why something that simple had been enough to pull his thoughts somewhere else entirely.
But it had.
Because the moment they mentioned the name, he thought of her. Y/N.
It wasn’t even intentional.
It never was.
It just… happened.
Like muscle memory. Like something ingrained too deeply to ignore.
She used to love this brand.
That was the first thing that came to mind.
Not the fights.
Not the way things ended.
Just something small. Simple.
The way she used to line up her skincare on the bathroom counter, always in the same order. The way she would complain when she ran out of one product and couldn’t replace it immediately. The way she would try to get him to use it too, insisting it would “fix his skin” even when he didn’t care.
A faint smile almost tugged at his lips.
Then it disappeared just as quickly.
Because the next thought came right after.
What happened to her?
Five years.
It had been five years.
And he still didn’t have an answer.
Not a real one. Not one that made sense.
He shifted slightly in his seat, jaw tightening just a little.
Because no matter how many times he tried to move past it, the same questions always came back.
Why did she leave like that?
Why didn’t she say anything?
Why didn’t she even give him the chance to…
He stopped that thought.
Because it never went anywhere good.
Across the table, someone was still talking.
Something about timelines now.
San barely registered it.
His mind had already gone somewhere else.
Back to that night.
It always went back to that night.
The way everything shifted in a matter of minutes.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.
He had said something he shouldn’t have.
He knew that.
He had known it almost immediately after the words left his mouth.
Maybe we should just break up.
It hadn’t even sounded real at the time.
Just something thrown into the air out of frustration.
Something he didn’t actually mean.
Something he thought they would fight through, like everything else.
Because they always did.
They always came back to each other.
Until they didn’t.
His fingers curled slightly against the armrest.
Because what stayed with him wasn’t even the argument.
It was what came after.
The silence.
The way she went quiet.
Not the usual kind.
Not the kind that meant she was still there, still feeling, still fighting.
This had been different.
And he hadn’t understood it at the time.
Hadn’t realized what it meant until it was already too late.
“She’ll calm down,” he had told himself that night.
“She just needs space.”
That was what he believed.
That was what made sense.
Because she had left before.
Stormed out. Needed time. Needed distance.
But she always came back.
Always.
Until she didn’t.
San’s jaw tightened.
Because the memory shifted.
From that night, to the next day.
The apartment too quiet. Too empty.
Her things gone.
At first, he thought it was temporary.
It had to be.
She wouldn’t just leave like that.
Not without saying something.
Not without explaining.
He had called her.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
No answer.
He had texted.
Simple at first.
Where are you?
Can we talk?
Y/N, please.
Then less simple.
Longer messages.
Frustration slipping in.
Confusion.
What is this?
You can’t just disappear like this.
At least tell me what’s going on.
Still nothing.
The silence stretched.
Days.
Weeks.
And then blocked.
Just like that.
No explanation.
No closure.
Nothing.
San swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the table in front of him.
That had been the worst part.
Not the fight.
Not even the breakup.
It was the way she just… erased him.
Like he didn’t deserve to know.
Like everything they had built over five years meant nothing in the end.
A flicker of irritation stirred in his chest.
Because no matter how much time passed, that part never fully went away.
The part of him that was still frustrated.
Still angry.
Because she didn’t even try.
Didn’t reach out.
Didn’t give him anything to hold onto.
Just… left.
Even now, he didn’t know why.
“What are you thinking about?”
The voice pulled him back.
San blinked, looking up.
Mingi was watching him, one brow slightly raised. “You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m listening,” San replied automatically.
Mingi didn’t look convinced.
Neither did the others.
Beside him, Wooyoung leaned forward slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
“No, you’re not.”
San shot him a look. “I am.”
“You’ve been staring at the same spot for the last five minutes.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not listening.”
“It kind of does.”
San exhaled quietly, leaning back again. “I’m fine.”
A pause.
“…Does this have something to do with her?”
The question came from Park Seonghwa this time, his tone calm, but knowing.
San stiffened slightly. “No.”
It came too quickly.
And everyone in the room knew it.
Wooyoung let out a quiet laugh. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
San frowned. “Can you drop it?”
“Not when it’s this obvious.”
“It’s not obvious.”
“It is,” Mingi added, leaning forward slightly now. “It’s always the same. You hear something that reminds you of her and suddenly you’re gone.”
San didn’t respond immediately.
Because they weren’t wrong.
That was the problem.
They were never wrong when it came to this.
“It’s been five years,” Jongho said quietly.
San’s jaw tightened. “I know.”
“Then why does it still—”
“It doesn’t,” San cut him off.
Another lie.
Another one they didn’t believe.
Hongjoong finally spoke again, his voice steady.
“You never got closure.”
San’s gaze flickered to him. “That’s not—”
“You didn’t,” Hongjoong repeated calmly. “She left. You never got an explanation. That kind of thing doesn’t just disappear.”
Silence.
Because there wasn’t really anything to argue with there.
San looked away.
Running a hand over his face.
“I’m fine,” he said again, quieter this time.
Wooyoung huffed softly. “You’ve been saying that for five years.”
“And I’ve been fine for five years.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
San didn’t answer.
Because again, they weren’t wrong.
And that was the part he hated the most.
The meeting room was already set up when they entered, in the marketing company.
Everything about it felt more… polished.
More structured.
San followed the others inside, his expression neutral again, the earlier conversation pushed to the back of his mind.
Or at least he tried.
He took his seat.
Adjusted slightly.
Let his gaze move over the room out of habit more than interest.
The door opened.
He didn’t think anything of it at first.
Just another person entering.
Another part of the team.
His attention shifted automatically and then stopped.
Because it was her.
Y/N.
For a second, his mind went blank.
Like it refused to process what he was seeing.
Because that didn’t make sense.
Not here.
Not now.
“Y/N?”
Her name left his mouth before he could stop it.
Before he could think.
Before he could remember where he was.
The room went quiet.
He didn’t notice.
Couldn’t.
Because she was standing there.
Right there.
Real.
Not a memory.
Not something his mind had pulled out of nowhere.
Actually there.
And she looked different.
But the same.
She had always been beautiful.
He knew that.
He had known it better than anyone.
But this was something else.
Something quieter.
More composed.
More… distant.
Her expression didn’t change much.
Didn’t show shock the way his did.
Didn’t show anything at all, really.
Just calm.
Like this wasn’t anything unusual.
Like he wasn’t sitting right in front of her after five years of silence.
“What are you doing here?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Too direct.
Too personal.
Too much.
And still she didn’t react the way he expected.
She moved.
Stepped further into the room.
Set her things down.
“I work here.”
Three words.
Simple. Cold.
And they hit harder than anything else.
San stared at her.
Still trying to catch up.
Still trying to understand how this was even real.
Around him, the others had gone quiet.
Because they recognized her too.
Of course they did.
They had known her almost as long as he had.
Had seen her with him.
Had seen what they were.
And now she was sitting across from them like none of that had ever happened.
Like they were just… strangers.
San’s fingers curled slightly against the table.
Irritation flickered again.
Because she was ignoring it.
All of it.
Like it didn’t matter.
Like he didn’t matter.
Like those five years didn’t exist.
His chest tightened.
Because how could she just…
“Shall we begin?”
Her voice cut through the tension.
Like she was the only one in the room who wasn’t completely thrown off.
San stared at her.
Now she was right in front of him again.
Whether he was ready for it or not.
He didn’t hear a single word.
San sat there, hands loosely folded in front of him, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle of the table, and still… he didn’t register anything that was actually being said.
Because she was there.
Right in front of him.
Not a memory. Not a thought he couldn’t control. Not something that faded when he forced himself to focus.
Existing in the same space as him after five years of nothing.
And it threw everything off.
“…so we were thinking of focusing on a more natural concept—”
Someone was talking.
One of the marketing people.
Maybe her.
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t focus long enough to tell.
Because every time his eyes shifted, even slightly, they found her again.
Y/N.
Sitting across from him like this was normal.
Like they hadn’t shared five years of their lives.
Like she hadn’t disappeared without a word.
Like he hadn’t spent years wondering what the hell happened.
Her posture was straight.
Composed.
Her expression calm, focused on the presentation in front of her.
She spoke when she needed to.
Listened when others spoke.
Took notes.
Nodded.
Everything about her screamed professionalism.
And it irritated him.
More than it should.
Because how could she just sit there like that?
Like none of this mattered?
Like he didn’t matter?
His jaw tightened.
His fingers pressing slightly into the table.
And then a voice beside her.
Kim Jisoo.
San hadn’t paid much attention to him at first.
Just another employee.
Another part of the team.
Until he noticed the way he leaned slightly closer when Y/N spoke.
The way his tone shifted just a little when he addressed her.
Lighter. Almost teasing.
“Good point,” Jisoo said, glancing at her with a small smile. “I think that direction could work really well.”
Y/N nodded. “It would fit the brand’s image.”
“You are a genius,” he added.
She didn’t react much.
Just a small nod.
But San noticed.
Of course he did.
And something in his chest tightened again.
He shifted in his seat slightly, trying to ignore it.
Trying to focus on something else.
Anything else.
But it kept happening.
Small things.
Jisoo handing her a pen before she could reach for one.
Leaning closer to point something out on her notes.
A quiet comment that made her lips curve just slightly.
Enough for it to get under his skin in a way he didn’t understand.
Why did it bother him?
It shouldn’t.
Five years.
She had every right to move on.
To meet someone.
His jaw clenched and looked away.
Forced his attention somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
But his mind didn’t cooperate.
Because every time he tried to focus, the same thoughts came back.
She looks the same.
That wasn’t true.
She didn’t.
She looked… older.
Not in a bad way.
In a way that felt grounded.
Like she had lived through something and come out the other side stronger.
More certain.
More… distant.
That was the part that stayed with him.
The distance.
The way she didn’t look at him unless she had to.
The way she spoke like he was just another client.
Like he was nothing more than a name on a contract.
It didn’t make sense.
None of it did.
Because five years didn’t erase everything.
It couldn’t.
At least it hadn’t for him.
“…San?”
He blinked.
The room came back into focus.
Everyone was looking at him.
Hongjoong.
The staff.
Her.
San straightened slightly, realizing someone had asked him something.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Can you repeat that?”
There was a brief pause.
Then the question came again.
Something about preferences.
Concept direction.
He answered.
Automatically.
Muscle memory taking over where his mind couldn’t.
And then the meeting continued.
Like nothing had happened.
Like everything was normal.
Except it wasn’t.
Not for him.
Not when every second felt like he was sitting in the middle of something unfinished.
Something unresolved.
Something he never got the chance to understand.
By the time the meeting ended, his head felt heavy.
Not physically.
Just… full.
Too many thoughts.
Too many questions.
Too many things he didn’t know what to do with.
Chairs shifted.
Papers were gathered.
People started standing up.
She moved with them.
Something in his chest snapped.
He stood up immediately.
“Y/N.”
Her name came out sharper than he intended.
She paused.
Just for a second.
Then turned to him.
And for a moment he saw it.
Something in her expression.
Not surprise.
Not exactly.
Something softer.
Something that didn’t quite reach the surface.
Then it was gone.
Replaced by that same calm composure.
“Yes?”
That was it.
Just… yes.
His hands curled slightly at his sides.
“You can’t just leave again.”
The words came out before he could soften them.
Before he could think them through.
Her expression shifted.
Something sad flickering through her eyes.
Something that made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
“I’m not leaving,” she said quietly. “I’m going back to work.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t pretend like you don’t.”
There was a brief silence.
The room had mostly emptied by now.
The others lingering just enough to notice.
To watch.
To understand that something was happening here.
Between them.
San took a step closer.
“You don’t get to do that again,” he said, his voice lower now, but still firm. “You don’t get to just walk away without explaining anything.”
Her gaze held his.
Steady.
And then ahe smiled.
Soft. Sad.
And it caught him off guard completely.
“I can understand why you feel that way,” she said.
That wasn’t what he expected.
Not anger.
Not defensiveness.
Just… understanding.
It threw him off.
“You left,” he said, frustration creeping back in. “You blocked me. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t—”
“I know.”
“Then explain it.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
And when she spoke again, her voice was still calm.
But there was something underneath it now.
Something heavier.
“I left because you never listened to me.”
The words landed quietly.
San frowned slightly.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” she said gently, not raising her voice, not interrupting harshly. Just… stating it.
“For over a year,” she continued, “I tried to talk to you. About how I felt. About how things were changing. And every time… you pushed me away.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because something about the way she said it…
It didn’t feel like an accusation.
It felt like a fact.
“I was always the problem,” she went on. “Always too emotional. Always bringing things up at the wrong time. Always making things harder for you.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I know.”
Again.
That same quiet understanding.
And it made it worse.
Because she wasn’t angry.
She wasn’t blaming him.
She was just… explaining.
“And I couldn’t do it anymore,” she finished softly. “I couldn’t keep trying to be heard when you had already decided I was too much.”
“I didn’t—”
“I had something important to tell you that night.”
The words stopped him completely.
His breath caught.
Something important.
That night.
The pieces didn’t fit.
They never had.
Now it felt like they almost could.
“What?” he asked, the word coming out quieter than he expected.
She shook her head slightly.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does to me.”
She looked at him.
And there it was again.
That sadness.
“That’s the thing,” she said softly. “It didn’t, back then.”
That hit harder than anything else.
Because he didn’t have a way to argue with it.
Not when he knew how he had been.
The pressure.
The frustration.
The constant exhaustion.
He had been difficult.
Short-tempered.
Distant.
He knew that.
He just didn’t think it had been enough to drive her away.
“I decided to leave,” she continued, her voice steady again now. “And I want to keep it that way.”
Silence.
San stared at her.
Trying to process.
Trying to understand.
Trying to figure out what he was supposed to say to that.
But nothing came.
Nothing that made sense.
Nothing that felt right.
Because suddenly, everything felt… different.
Not just confusing.
Not just frustrating.
Wrong.
Like he had missed something important.
Something he should have known.
Something that could have changed everything.
Now it was too late.
She gave him one last look.
Then turned away.
The ride back to the dorm was quiet.
Too quiet.
No one spoke at first.
Not even Wooyoung.
Not even Mingi.
And that said a lot.
San sat by the window, his gaze fixed somewhere outside, though he wasn’t really seeing anything.
His mind was still in that room.
Still stuck on her words.
I had something important to tell you that night.
His chest tightened.
Because that didn’t make sense.
Why didn’t she say it then?
Why didn’t she just…
No.
He knew why.
Because he hadn’t listened.
Because he had shut her down before she even had the chance.
Because he had assumed.
Again.
Silence stretched.
“What actually happened?”
Hongjoong’s voice.
San didn’t respond immediately.
“What do you mean?”
“You never told us,” Hongjoong continued. “Not really. Just that you broke up.”
San’s jaw tightened slightly.
“That’s what happened.”
“That’s not all that happened,” Seonghwa added quietly.
San exhaled slowly.
Leaning back slightly.
For a moment, he considered brushing it off.
Saying it didn’t matter.
That it was in the past.
It didn’t feel like the past anymore.
Not after today.
Not after seeing her again.
“Fine,” he muttered.
Silence settled again.
He spoke.
“It wasn’t just one fight,” he said slowly.
His gaze dropped.
Memories surfacing.
Clearer than they had been in a long time.
“We had been arguing for months.”
Not arguing.
Not really.
It had been something else.
Something quieter.
More exhausting.
“She kept saying she felt… alone,” he continued. “That I wasn’t there. That things were changing.”
He let out a quiet breath.
“And I kept telling her I was just busy.”
Because he was.
That had been true.
But it hadn’t been the whole truth.
“I was stressed,” he admitted. “All the time. Everything felt like too much. The pressure, the schedules… I couldn’t deal with anything else on top of that.”
Including her.
He swallowed.
“She would try to talk to me,” he said. “And I would just… shut it down. Because I didn’t have the energy for it.”
The words felt heavier now.
Looking back.
“I thought she would understand,” he added quietly.
Silence.
Because they all knew that wasn’t enough.
“And then that night…” he trailed off.
His hands clenched slightly.
“She was waiting for me when I got home,” he said. “I didn’t even ask why. I just assumed it was another argument.”
Because it always had been.
“I told her I didn’t have the energy for it,” he continued. “Before she even said anything.”
His chest tightened.
“She tried to talk anyway,” he said. “And I… got frustrated.”
Understatement.
“I said things I shouldn’t have.”
Like always.
“And then…”
He hesitated.
“I told her maybe we should just break up.”
“And you didn’t mean it,” Mingi said quietly.
“No,” San admitted. “I didn’t.”
He had never meant it.
Not for a second.
“But she took it seriously.”
Of course she did.
“She went quiet,” he said. “And then she just… agreed.”
That had been the part that threw him off the most.
Not anger.
Not yelling.
Just… acceptance.
“I thought she would calm down,” he added. “That she would come back.”
Like always.
“But she didn’t.”
The words felt hollow.
Even now.
“I went home the next day and she was gone.”
His throat felt tight.
“She blocked me. Didn’t answer anything. Just… disappeared.”
Silence settled again.
No one interrupted.
No one filled the space.
Because there wasn’t anything to say.
For a moment, San just stared ahead.
“There was something else.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
The others looked at him.
“What?” Wooyoung asked.
San hesitated.
Because he hadn’t told anyone this.
Not even them.
“I was going to propose.”
“What?” Mingi blinked.
San let out a quiet breath.
“I had a ring,” he said. “Hidden. I was just waiting for the right moment.”
A humorless smile tugged at his lips.
“Which never came.”
Because he had been too busy.
Too stressed.
Too caught up in everything else.
“And then she left.”
And that was it.
No proposal.
No closure.
No explanation.
Just…Nothing.
San leaned his head back slightly, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
“And now she’s back,” he muttered.
But everything between them still felt unfinished.
The week didn’t go the way she expected.
That was the simplest way to put it.
After that first meeting, something had shifted in a way she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried to act like nothing had happened.
Because it hadn’t just been unexpected.
It had been… destabilizing.
Y/N stood by the window of her apartment that morning, her arms loosely wrapped around herself, staring out at the quiet street below. Seoul was already awake, the city moving at ist usual pace, but for once she felt… out of sync with it.
Her thoughts kept circling back.
To the meeting.
To him.
To the way he had said her name.
To the way everything she had carefully kept separate had suddenly collided without warning.
She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly.
You handled it well.
That was what she told herself.
And it was true.
She had stayed calm. Professional. Distant.
Exactly how she needed to be.
“Mama?”
Her eyes opened immediately.
Heewa stood in the doorway, still in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes slightly as she looked at her.
“You’re awake early,” Y/N said softly, forcing a small smile.
“I had a dream.”
“Oh?” She crouched down slightly. “Was it a good one?”
Heewa nodded. “I dreamed I had a puppy.”
“That does sound like a good dream.”
“It was.”
The little girl stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist without hesitation.
And just like that, the tension in her chest eased.
A little.
Y/N rested her chin lightly on top of Heewa’s head, holding her for a moment longer than usual.
“…Mama?”
“Hmm?”
“You feel weird.”
Y/N stilled.
Just slightly.
“Do I?”
Heewa nodded against her. “A little.”
Y/N swallowed.
Because children noticed everything.
Even the things she tried to hide.
“I’m okay,” she said gently, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Just thinking about work.”
Heewa studied her for a second.
Then…“Okay.”
And just like that, she accepted it.
But she didn’t let go.
If anything, she clung a little tighter.
And Y/N felt it.
That quiet understanding.
That instinctive closeness.
And something in her chest ached.
The following days at work were… different.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
Her colleagues weren’t blind.
Of course they weren’t.
They had seen it.
The tension.
The way San had reacted.
The way she had responded.
The way the air in the room had shifted in a way that had nothing to do with business.
She tried to brush it off.
“We‘re just old acquaintances.”
That was what she said.
Simple.
Neutral.
Nothing more.
And most of them accepted it.
Or at least pretended to.
But the atmosphere had changed.
Just enough that she noticed.
Just enough that she started avoiding the meetings.
Not all of them.
Just… most.
She focused on her work instead.
On things she could control.
On things that didn’t involve sitting across from him and pretending like five years hadn’t happened.
It was easier that way.
Safer.
The call came early.
Too early.
“Mama?”
Heewa’s voice was confused, still half-asleep as Y/N pulled her phone away from her ear.
“The kindergarten is closed today,” Y/N said, trying to keep her tone calm.
“Closed?”
“All the teachers are sick.”
Heewa blinked. “So… no school?”
“No school.”
A pause.
“That’s amazing.”
Y/N let out a quiet breath, pinching the bridge of her nose slightly.
Right.
Amazing for her.
Less amazing for Y/N.
Because she still had work.
And no one to watch her.
She glanced at the clock.
Then at her phone.
She dialed her boss.
The call didn’t last long.
“I can take a sick day,” Y/N offered, already feeling guilty about it. “I’m really sorry for the short notice—”
“Don’t worry about it,” her boss cut in easily. “Actually, you can just bring her.”
Y/N blinked.
“…What?”
“It’s fine,” he continued. “It’s a small office. We’re not that strict. As long as she doesn’t cause trouble.”
Y/N hesitated.
Because that felt unexpected.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course. It’s just one day.”
She hesitated for a second longer.
“Okay. Thank you.”
When she hung up, Heewa was already watching her with wide eyes.
“Can I come to your work?”
Y/N sighed softly.
“Yes.”
Heewa’s face lit up immediately.
“Really?”
“Yes. But—”
She crouched down, her expression turning slightly more serious.
“You have to behave, okay?”
“I will!”
“You have to stay quiet when I’m working.”
“I can do that.”
“And no running around.”
“…No running.”
Y/N raised a brow slightly.
“…Okay, maybe a little running.”
“Heewa.”
“Okay, no running.”
Y/N smiled faintly.
“We’ll see.”
The office reacted exactly how she expected.
Which was to say they loved her immediately.
“She’s adorable.”
“That’s your daughter?”
“She looks just like—”
The sentence trailed off.
Because someone caught themselves.
But Y/N noticed.
Of course she did.
Because it wasn’t just her.
It was obvious.
It always had been.
Heewa looked like him.
Not in a subtle way.
Not in a way that could be overlooked.
In a way that made it impossible not to notice.
The same eyes.
The same shape.
The same expressions.
Even the way she smiled.
It was all there.
Y/N forced herself not to think about it too much.
Because she didn’t have the energy for that today.
Instead she focused on work.
On keeping Heewa occupied.
On maintaining the balance she had built.
And for a while it worked.
Heewa sat at an empty desk, happily drawing, occasionally looking up to show Y/N something new.
Her colleagues came by, chatting with her, laughing at her stories, completely charmed.
Even Jisoo.
Especially Jisoo.
“Well, hello,” he said with a grin, crouching slightly beside her desk. “And who are you?”
“I’m Heewa.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“My mama picked it.”
“Then your mama has good taste.”
He glanced up briefly, meeting Y/N’s gaze.
And there it was again.
That subtle warmth.
That easy interest.
It didn’t make her uncomfortable.
It just… was.
“Do you draw a lot?” he asked Heewa.
“Yes!”
“Can you draw me?”
Heewa gasped. “Yes!”
And just like that, she was fully occupied.
Y/N watched them for a moment.
Then shook her head slightly, returning to her work.
For a brief moment, It felt… normal.
Like everything had settled again. Like maybe this really could work. Like she could balance all of it.
Her job. Her daughter.
Her past staying exactly where it belonged.
“Y/N?”
She looked up.
Her boss stood nearby.
“Can you come to the meeting room?”
Her stomach dropped slightly.
“Now?”
“Yes. Just a quick follow-up.”
Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possibility.
No.
ATEEZ wasn’t supposed to come today.
The schedule had been clear.
This was just internal.
Just work.
She nodded slowly.
“Of course.”
Then she glanced at Heewa.
“Can she stay here?”
Her boss hesitated.
“She can come,” Jisoo cut in easily. “It’s fine.”
Y/N looked at him.
Then at her boss. “…Are you sure?”
“It’s okay,” her boss said. “Just this once.”
Y/N hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Alright.”
She crouched down in front of Heewa.
“Okay, listen to me,” she said gently. “This is important.”
Heewa straightened immediately.
Serious.
“I know.”
“You have to be very well-behaved.”
“I will.”
“No talking unless someone talks to you first.”
“Okay.”
“And stay close to me.”
“I will.”
Y/N smiled softly.
“Good.”
She stood.
Took her hand.
And walked toward the meeting room.
The door opened.
And everything stopped.
Her breath.
Her thoughts.
Her sense of control.
Because they were there.
ATEEZ
All of them.
Sitting exactly where they had been the first time.
Like nothing had changed.
Like this was just another meeting.
But it wasn’t.
Not this time.
Not with…“Mama?”
Heewa’s voice was quiet.
Uncertain.
Because she felt it too.
The shift.
The tension.
Y/N tightened her grip on her hand slightly.
“It’s okay,” she murmured.
But it wasn’t.
Not even close.
“Ah,” Jisoo stepped forward slightly, breaking the silence. “We have a small addition today.”
He smiled lightly.
“Our colleague’s daughter is here because her kindergarten is closed.”
Every eye shifted.
Toward them.
Toward her.
Toward Heewa.
And then it happened.
The moment she had feared without even realizing it.
Because the resemblance it was impossible to ignore.
Y/N felt it.
The shift in the room.
The subtle tension.
The way attention sharpened.
San.
He wasn’t looking at her.
Not this time.
His focus was entirely somewhere else.
On her daughter. Their daughter.
Like he couldn’t process what he was seeing.
Like his mind was trying to catch up to something it wasn’t ready for.
“Mama?”
Heewa tugged lightly on her hand.
Y/N crouched down slightly.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
But her heart was beating too fast.
Because she knew.
She knew what he was seeing.
What everyone was seeing.
Before she could say anything else, Heewa stepped forward slightly.
“I’m going to be a big girl,” she announced, her voice small but determined.
Silence.
Soft.
Heavy.
“And I can draw for you,” she added, looking at the group.
At that the tension shifted slightly.
But not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Because San, he still hadn’t looked away.
From the little girl who looked exactly like him.
Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Taglist: @ninjakitty15 @dalsuwaha @starmee-lodurrson @luviebears @darjeelinglemontea @ffenjoyerdazme @moonlitcelestial @livonianmaia @m00njinnie @tinycloudz @whoreforjongho @shrimpwoo @soso59love-blog @armycarat2612 @yunhospinkyring @okiedokiespookie @lunaryoongie @firstdivisiongirl @autumnrainsings @meowmeeps @scoutyy @goblin-pop @hope122598 @sunnysidesins @hohongtiny @kimarii-OO @maffyy @dumplingsyum @thedistractedwriter @spenceatiny18 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @nasaholic @angstylittleb1tch @kaitieskidmore97
Divider by @kodaswrld
Omg I'm going to fucking SCREAM 😭 damn this part gave me goosebumps 😍😍😍
You were supposed to tell him that night. You had practiced it a hundred times in your head, soft and careful and full of hope. But he didn’t even let you speak.
One fight. One sentence. One moment where everything broke. And just like that, you left.
Five years later, you come back with a life he knows nothing about. A daughter he has never met and a past that was never really over.
Pairing: Choi San x Reader (Y/N)
Tropes: idol au, secret child, second chance (but painful), lovers to strangers to…?, miscommunication (heavy), unresolved feelings, accidental reunion, angst with eventual healing
Genre: angst (primary), romance, drama, slice of life
Featuring: ATEEZ, Heewa (as mini San 🥲), original side character
Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 1
She remembers the waiting more than anything else.
Not the fight. Not even the words that came later and carved themselves into her bones. It was the waiting that stayed with her. The kind that stretched time into something unbearable, where every second felt too loud, too slow, too aware of itself.
The apartment was too quiet.
It always was when he wasn’t there.
Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Fingers pressing into each other hard enough to hurt. She had been sitting like that for longer than she could tell. Minutes had stopped meaning anything. The only thing she could track was the ticking clock on the wall and the way her chest rose and fell a little too fast, a little too shallow.
She had tried to distract herself earlier.
Tried cleaning. Tried scrolling through her phone. Tried watching something meaningless just to fill the silence.
None of it worked.
Because everything kept coming back to the same thought.
I have to tell him.
Her hand moved almost unconsciously, resting lightly against her stomach. It wasn’t something visible. There was no difference from the outside. Nothing that would give it away.
But she knew.
And that was enough to change everything.
A week.
It had been one week since she found out.
Seven days of carrying something that felt too big for her alone. Seven days of rehearsing conversations in her head. Seven days of imagining his reaction, over and over again. Until every version blurred into something she could no longer trust.
At first, she had been scared.
Then overwhelmed.
Then… hopeful.
Because maybe this could fix things.
Maybe this would be the thing that pulled them back together. The thing that reminded him of who they used to be before everything became so complicated, so strained, so exhausting.
Before every conversation felt like it was one wrong word away from turning into a fight.
She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment.
Five years.
They had been together for five years.
Before the fame. Before the stage lights. Before anyone knew his name beyond a small circle of people who believed in him and his dream.
She had been there when it was just that. A dream.
Late nights in cramped rooms. Music playing too loudly through cheap speakers. Him pacing back and forth, frustrated and determined in the same breath. Her sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him with quiet admiration as he tried to shape something out of nothing.
Back then, things had been simple.
Not easy, but simple.
He used to come to her after long days and collapse beside her, head falling against her shoulder like he could finally breathe again.
He used to look at her like she was something steady in a world that never stopped moving.
And she had believed him when he said they would get through everything together.
She swallowed hard.
Because somewhere along the way, that changed.
The last year had been… different.
Not in one sudden, obvious way. It didn’t happen overnight. It was slower than that. Subtle enough that she hadn’t noticed at first. Or maybe she had, and she just didn’t want to admit it.
It started with small things.
Cancelled plans.
Late replies.
“I’m busy” turning into “I’ll call you later” turning into nothing at all.
She had told herself it was normal.
Of course it was. His life had changed. Everything had changed. He was working harder than ever, chasing something he had wanted for so long.
She wanted to be understanding.
She tried to be.
But understanding didn’t stop the feeling that had slowly settled into her chest.
The feeling of being… left behind.
It wasn’t just that he wasn’t there.
It was that when he was there, it didn’t feel the same anymore.
Conversations that used to flow easily now felt forced. Silences stretched too long. And when she tried to talk about it, really talk about it, it always ended the same way.
With both of them frustrated.
With both of them saying things they didn’t mean.
With both of them walking away feeling worse than before.
She shifted slightly on the couch, her gaze drifting toward the door.
He was late.
Again.
Her fingers tightened together.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She wasn’t. It had become something she expected now, even if a part of her still hoped, every time, that maybe today would be different.
That maybe today he would come home, see her, and just… be happy to see her.
She let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly, her head resting against the couch.
Tonight will be different.
It had to be.
Because tonight, she wasn’t going to argue. She wasn’t going to bring up everything that had been building for months. She wasn’t going to let it turn into another exhausting cycle of raised voices and half-finished sentences.
She just needed to tell him.
That was all.
And then maybe… they could find their way back.
The sound of the door unlocking made her sit up immediately.
Her heart jumped, her body going tense without her meaning it to.
For a brief second, something soft flickered through her chest.
Relief.
He was home.
The door opened, and Choi San stepped inside.
He looked tired.
His shoulders were slightly slumped, movements slower than usual. His hair was still styled from whatever schedule he had just come from. But it was slightly messy now, like he had run his hands through it too many times. His eyes looked heavy, shadows faint beneath them.
He kicked off his shoes absentmindedly, stepping further into the apartment.
Then he saw her.
And everything shifted.
It was subtle, but she saw it immediately.
The way his posture stiffened.
The way his expression changed.
Not surprise.
Not relief.
Something else.
Something that made her chest tighten.
“Y/N?”
There was a pause.
She opened her mouth, a small, nervous smile forming on her lips.
“I was waiting for you.”
She tried to keep her voice soft. Careful. Like she was approaching something fragile.
For a split second, she thought maybe it would be okay.
Maybe...
He sighed.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Enough to make something in her stomach drop.
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes closing briefly as if he was already bracing himself.
“Can this not be another argument right now?”
The words landed before she could even process them.
Her smile faltered.
“What?”
“I just got back,” he continued, his voice tired, strained. “I had a long day. I really don’t have the energy for this tonight.”
For this.
She stared at him, something like disbelief flickering across her face.
“I didn’t even say anything yet.”
He let out a quiet, humorless breath, like that didn’t matter.
“Y/N, please. Every time we talk lately it turns into something.”
Something.
That was what it was to him now.
Not a conversation.
Not her feelings.
Just… something.
She felt her fingers curl slightly against her palms.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“And I’m telling you I’m tired.”
His tone wasn’t loud. That almost made it worse.
It was flat. Dismissive.
Like he had already decided how this was going to go before she even had a chance to say anything.
Her chest tightened.
“I’ve been waiting all day.”
“I didn’t ask you to wait.”
That one hit.
She blinked, taken aback for a moment, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard him right.
“I know you didn’t,” she said slowly. “I wanted to.”
“Then don’t get upset about it.”
Something cracked.
It was small.
But it was there.
“I’m not upset about waiting,” she said, her voice a little sharper now despite her effort to keep it steady. “I just… I wanted to see you.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Because yes.
He was here.
But it didn’t feel like it.
The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable.
He moved past her, dropping his bag onto the chair, rubbing his face with both hands like he was trying to shake off the day.
She watched him.
And suddenly, the words she had been holding onto all week felt… fragile.
Like they didn’t belong in this moment anymore.
But she couldn’t just not say them.
Not after everything.
“San…”
Her voice was softer now.
Careful again.
He stilled slightly at the sound of his name, but he didn’t turn around.
“What?”
There was something about the way he said it.
Short.
Impatient.
Like she was already asking for too much.
She swallowed.
“I need you to listen to me for a second.”
“I am listening.”
“You’re not even looking at me.”
He exhaled sharply, turning around then, his expression already edged with frustration.
“Okay. I’m looking. What is it?”
Her heart was beating too fast.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
She had imagined this moment so many times.
None of those versions looked like this.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
“Is this about me being busy again?” he asked, his voice tightening. “Because I already told you I can’t just drop everything...”
“It’s not just that,” she interrupted, a little more urgently than she meant to.
“Then what is it?” he shot back. “Because it’s always something lately.”
The words settled between them like something heavy.
Her breath caught.
Always something.
She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, she didn’t recognize the way he was looking back at her.
Like this was a burden.
Like she was.
Her fingers trembled slightly where they rested in her lap.
“I’m not trying to start a fight.”
“It feels like you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why does it always end like this?”
“Because you don’t listen to me,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Silence.
Sharp.
Immediate.
His expression hardened.
“I am listening.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“What do you want me to hear?” he asked, his voice rising just slightly now. “That I’m not doing enough? That I’m not here enough? I know that already.”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“Then what are you saying?”
Her chest felt tight.
Too tight.
“I just feel like I don’t matter anymore.”
The words were quiet.
But they hit.
He stared at her.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes.
Something softer.
Something that almost looked like guilt.
And then it was gone.
Replaced by frustration.
“Why does it always come back to this?” he asked, running a hand through his hair again. “You know how much pressure I’m under right now. You know how hard this is.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m not saying it’s not—”
“Then why can’t you just understand that I can’t always be here?”
“I’m not asking you to be here all the time!”
“Then what are you asking for?”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because suddenly, she didn’t know how to explain it in a way he would understand.
“I just… I miss you,” she said finally.
And for a moment, everything stilled.
But instead of softening, something in him seemed to snap.
“I’m right here.”
“No,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re not.”
That did it.
Something in his expression shifted completely.
Frustration turning into something sharper.
“I don’t have the energy for this,” he said, his voice colder now. “I just got back, and this is the first thing you bring up?”
“I wasn’t trying to fight...”
“Then what is it?” he snapped, frustration finally breaking through. “Because it’s always the same lately. You’re upset, I’m not doing enough, I’m not here enough...”
“That’s not what I’m saying...”
“Then what are you saying?” he cut in, his voice sharper now, tiredness turning into something harsher. “Because I can’t keep dealing with you every time I come home.”
She froze slightly at that. “Dealing with me?”
“Yes,” he gestured vaguely toward her, his expression strained. “Your mood swings. One day you’re fine, the next you’re distant, then suddenly everything’s a problem again. I don’t know what you want from me.”
The words landed harder than he intended.
Her fingers tightened at her sides. “My mood swings?”
“I didn’t mean it like that...”
“But you said it.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I just...if you’re this unhappy with me all the time, then what are we even doing?”
She stared at him.
And then he said it.
Quiet, but clear.
“Maybe we should just break up.”
The words rang in the air.
Too loud.
Too harsh.
She flinched.
Just slightly.
But he saw it.
And for a split second, he hesitated.
But it was already too late.
Her eyes dropped for a moment, her breathing uneven.
And then she went quiet.
Not the kind of quiet they were used to.
Not the tense, waiting kind.
This was different.
Still.
Final.
She looked back up at him.
And something in her expression had changed.
“I see.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
He frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head a little. “Nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s clearly not...”
“I said it’s fine.”
He stared at her.
Confused now.
Thrown off.
Because this wasn’t how it usually went.
She wasn’t arguing.
She wasn’t pushing back.
She wasn’t trying to make him understand.
She was just… stopping.
And that unsettled him more than anything else.
“Y/N…”
She stood up.
Her movements were quiet, controlled.
“I think you’re right.”
His brows furrowed. “About what?”
She looked at him.
And for the first time, there was distance in her eyes.
Real distance.
“Maybe this isn’t working anymore.”
The words hit harder than anything else that had been said that night.
His expression shifted immediately.
“What?”
“I mean it,” she continued, her voice steady despite the way her chest felt like it was caving in. “I don’t think we’re good for each other right now.”
“Where is this coming from?” he asked, taking a step toward her. “We just...this is just another argument. We’ve had worse.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“We’ve had worse,” she repeated softly. “And we keep having worse.”
“That doesn’t mean we just...what are you saying right now?”
“I’m saying I think we should stop.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“No.”
The word came out immediately.
Firm.
Shaken.
“No, we’re not doing that.”
She looked at him, something aching in her chest.
“I am.”
“Y/N—”
“I’m tired, San.”
Her voice cracked slightly on his name.
“I’m so tired of feeling like this.”
“We can fix this.”
“We’ve been saying that for a year.”
“That doesn’t mean we give up.”
“I’m not giving up,” she said quietly. “I’m letting go.”
He shook his head, stepping closer.
“No. No, you don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You’re just upset right now. You know I didn't mean it.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why now?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Why like this?”
Because you didn’t even let me speak.
Because I was going to tell you something that would’ve changed everything.
Because you already decided I was a problem before I could even open my mouth.
The words stayed in her throat.
She couldn’t say them.
Not anymore.
Because suddenly… they didn’t feel safe there.
“I just know I can’t keep doing this,” she said instead.
He stared at her like he didn’t recognize her.
“Don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I am.”
“Y/N—”
“I’ll come back for the rest of my things later.”
And that was when it really hit him.
“You’re serious.”
She nodded.
And something in his chest dropped.
“No,” he said again, softer this time. “No, we’re not ending this over one fight.”
“It’s not one fight.”
“Then we’ll fix it.”
“We tried.”
“We can try again.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t have it in me anymore.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“Then I’ll try harder,” he said quickly. “I will. I swear. Just...don’t do this. Don't leave me, please.”
Her eyes softened for a second.
Because part of her wanted to believe him.
Part of her always would.
But another part… the part that had been hurting for so long… knew better.
“I needed you to listen tonight,” she said quietly.
“I’m listening now.”
She smiled faintly.
“It’s too late.”
And then she turned away.
He reached for her.
“Y/N, wait—”
But she stepped back.
Just enough.
“I’m sorry.”
And then she walked past him.
Toward the door.
Toward the end of something that had once meant everything.
Her hand brushed against her stomach as she reached for the handle.
A small, instinctive movement.
One he didn’t notice.
She paused for just a second.
Just one.
And in that moment, she almost turned around.
Almost told him.
Almost gave him the chance to know.
But then his words echoed in her head.
I can’t keep doing this with you.
Her grip tightened.
And then she opened the door.
And left.
Without ever telling him… that he wasn’t just losing her.
The city felt different.
Y/N noticed it the moment she stepped out of the subway that morning, her daughter’s small hand wrapped tightly around her fingers. Seoul had always been loud, fast, restless in a way that never truly allowed anyone to stand still. Five years ago, it had swallowed her whole. Back then, it felt overwhelming, unpredictable, almost suffocating.
Now, it felt… steady.
Or maybe she was the one who had changed.
“Heewa, slow down.”
The little girl beside her was practically bouncing with excitement, her free hand swinging as she tried to keep up with her own enthusiasm more than with her mother’s pace.
“But we’re gonna be late,” Heewa insisted, her voice bright and slightly breathless as she half-skipped over a crack in the pavement.
“We’re not late,” Y/N replied, smiling despite herself. “We’re early.”
“That’s basically the same thing.”
Y/N let out a quiet laugh under her breath, shaking her head. “It really isn’t.”
Heewa huffed softly, though there was no real frustration behind it. Her attention was already drifting, dark eyes widening as she took in everything around her like it was all new, even though they had been walking this same route for two months now.
Two months.
It still felt strange to think about.
Two months since she moved back.
Two months since she stepped into a life that was entirely her own.
For years, she had stayed in her hometown, tucked away in something quieter, something safer. Living with her parents had been the right decision back then. She had needed the support, the stability, the extra set of hands when everything felt like too much.
Especially in the beginning.
Her grip on Heewa’s hand tightened slightly without her noticing.
Those first months had been the hardest.
Learning how to be a mother while still trying to hold herself together. Nights where sleep didn’t come, where the silence felt heavier than anything else. Days where she questioned every decision she had made.
And through all of it, one thought had lingered quietly in the background.
Should I have told him?
Even now, it still came back sometimes.
Uninvited. Unwanted.
She pushed it away like she always did.
Because no matter how much it lingered, the answer never really changed.
No.
It had been the best decision.
It had to be.
He was living a completely different life now.
A life that didn’t have space for something like this.
For her.
For… them.
Her gaze shifted slightly, settling on the little girl beside her.
Heewa was still talking, something about a new friend she hoped would be in her class today, her words spilling over each other in a way that made it hard to follow every detail.
Y/N listened anyway.
She always did.
Because this… this was her life now.
And despite everything, despite the past that still lingered at the edges of her thoughts, she had built something good.
Something steady.
Something real.
They reached the kindergarten a few minutes later, the familiar building coming into view. Bright colors, small decorations near the entrance, the sound of children already playing somewhere inside.
Heewa’s grip tightened excitedly.
“Can I go now?”
Y/N laughed softly. “You still have to say goodbye to me first.”
The girl turned to her immediately, her expression suddenly serious as she stepped closer. “Okay.”
Y/N crouched down in front of her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her daughter’s face.
And for a moment, she just… looked at her.
It still caught her off guard sometimes.
How much Heewa looked like him.
It wasn’t just one feature.
It was everything.
The shape of her eyes. The way they curved slightly when she smiled. The dark color of them, bright and expressive in a way that felt so familiar it almost hurt.
Even the way she tilted her head sometimes, just slightly, when she was curious about something.
A small, unintentional mirror of someone she hadn’t seen in five years.
Y/N swallowed the thought before it could settle too deeply.
“You’re going to have fun today, okay?” she said gently.
Heewa nodded eagerly. “I will.”
“And you’ll listen to your teacher?”
“Yes.”
“And be nice to the other kids?”
“I’m always nice.”
Y/N raised a brow slightly. “Always?”
Heewa hesitated.
“…Most of the time.”
“That’s better.”
They both smiled.
Then Heewa leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s neck in a quick, tight hug.
“I’ll tell you everything later,” she promised.
“I’m counting on it.”
The girl pulled back, already turning toward the entrance before Y/N could say anything else.
“Bye, Mama!”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Y/N watched her go, the small figure disappearing inside with a burst of energy that made her chest feel warm.
And just a little heavy.
She stayed there for a moment longer than necessary.
Then she stood, exhaling quietly before turning away.
There was work to do.
And for the first time in a long time… she didn’t dread it.
The office was small.
That had been one of the reasons she felt comfortable accepting the job.
A small marketing firm, nothing too overwhelming, nothing too demanding in a way that would pull her back into the kind of life she had deliberately stepped away from.
It was enough.
Enough to give her structure. Enough to give her purpose.
Enough to remind her that she was more than just… surviving.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
She greeted her coworkers as she stepped inside, setting her bag down at her desk, already slipping into a routine that had become familiar over the past two months.
There was something grounding about it.
The quiet hum of computers. The low conversations. The soft clatter of keyboards.
It was simple.
And she liked that.
“Y/N.”
She looked up at the sound of her name, her boss standing near her desk with a folder in hand.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.”
She stood, stepping closer as he handed her the file.
“We’ve got a new assignment,” he explained. “It’s a short-term campaign. Starts tomorrow.”
She nodded, flipping the folder open, scanning the first few pages.
“A brand collaboration?” she asked.
“Exactly. They want something fresh. A new angle. You’ll be working on the initial concept.”
“Got it.”
Her eyes moved over the details, taking in the scope of the project.
It wasn’t small.
But it wasn’t overwhelming either.
Just… interesting.
“A K-pop group?” she noted, glancing up briefly.
“Yeah. Probably not one of the huge ones, so don’t worry,” he added with a small smile. “We wouldn’t get that kind of contract anyway. We didn't get a lot information yet.”
She let out a quiet laugh.
“Right.”
That made sense.
This firm wasn’t big enough for something like that.
So there was no reason to worry.
No reason to overthink.
She looked back down at the file, her mind already shifting into focus.
“Alright,” she said, nodding slightly. “I’ll start working on some ideas today.”
“Perfect. I’ll check in later.”
He walked off, leaving her with the folder and a sense of something… new.
Excitement, maybe.
Or just… purpose.
She sat back down, opening her laptop, the familiar rhythm of work settling in quickly.
Ideas came easier than she expected.
She let herself get lost in it.
Concepts. Visual directions. Messaging angles.
Time passed without her noticing.
And for once, her mind didn’t drift back to the past.
Didn’t linger on things she couldn’t change.
It stayed here.
Present.
Focused.
Alive in a way that felt unfamiliar, but welcome.
Maybe this was what it felt like to move forward.
By the time she left work, the sky had already started to dim.
She checked the time as she stepped outside, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.
Right on schedule.
The walk to the kindergarten felt shorter this time.
Or maybe she was just more tired.
Either way, by the time she reached the familiar building, the last of the children were already being picked up.
She spotted Heewa almost immediately.
Sitting on a small bench near the entrance, legs swinging slightly as she waited.
The moment she saw Y/N, her face lit up.
“Mama!”
She jumped up, running toward her without hesitation.
Y/N barely had time to brace herself before she was wrapped in a hug.
“Hey,” she murmured softly, returning it just as tightly. “Did you have a good day?”
“The best day.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
Y/N smiled, pulling back slightly. “Tell me everything.”
And Heewa did.
The entire walk home.
Every detail.
Every new friend. Every game. Every small moment that felt important in her world.
Y/N listened.
She always did.
Because these were the moments she didn’t want to miss.
Dinner was simple.
Nothing complicated. Just something warm, something easy after a long day.
They sat across from each other at the small table in their apartment, the soft glow of the kitchen light filling the space.
Heewa swung her legs slightly under the chair, still talking between bites.
And for a while, everything felt… normal.
Comfortable.
Safe.
“Mama?”
Y/N looked up.
“Hmm?”
Heewa hesitated.
Just slightly.
“Do I have a dad? The other kids have one.”
The question was soft.
Careful.
But it landed harder than anything else that day.
Y/N’s hand stilled for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then she set her chopsticks down gently.
She had known this would come eventually.
It wasn’t the first time.
And it wouldn’t be the last.
She looked at her daughter.
Really looked at her.
At the familiar eyes. The familiar expression.
The quiet curiosity.
And something in her chest tightened.
“You do,” she said softly.
Heewa blinked. “Where is he?”
Y/N swallowed.
Carefully.
Choosing her words the way she always did.
“He lives far away.”
“Why?”
Because I left.
Because I didn’t tell him.
Because I thought it was the right thing to do.
“Because… our lives are different,” she said instead.
Heewa frowned slightly. “Does he know me?”
The question lingered.
Heavy.
Y/N felt something twist in her chest.
But her expression stayed gentle.
“He would like you very much,” she said quietly.
That wasn’t a lie.
It never was.
Heewa seemed to think about that, her expression softening slightly.
“Is he nice?”
Y/N smiled.
A real one this time.
“Yes,” she said. “He is.”
And that, more than anything, was the truth she held onto.
No matter what had happened.
No matter how things ended.
She would never take that away from him.
Or from her.
Heewa nodded slowly, satisfied enough with the answer for now.
“Okay.”
She went back to eating.
And the moment passed.
But Y/N stayed still for a second longer.
Her gaze drifting slightly.
Unfocused.
Because even after five years…
Some things never really left.
They just became quieter.
Easier to carry.
Until moments like this reminded her that they were still there.
Still waiting.
Still part of her.
She exhaled slowly.
Then picked up her chopsticks again.
“Eat your vegetables,” she said gently.
Heewa groaned dramatically.
And just like that life continued.
Morning came too fast.
Y/N barely noticed how her alarm blended into the quiet hum of the apartment, her body already used to waking before it even rang. For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing beside her.
Heewa had climbed into her bed sometime during the night.
She always did that on days when she had something exciting coming up.
Y/N turned her head slightly, watching the small rise and fall of her daughter’s chest, the way her hair was spread messily across the pillow. There was something grounding about moments like this. Something that made everything else feel… manageable.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers gently through Heewa’s hair.
A small groan.
“No…”
Y/N smiled faintly. “You said you wanted to be early again today.”
One eye opened.
“…I did?”
“You did.”
Heewa blinked slowly, then suddenly sat up, fully awake.
“I did!”
Y/N laughed quietly, pushing herself up as well. “Come on. Get ready.”
The morning passed in small, familiar steps.
Getting dressed. Packing her bag. Making sure she had everything she needed. Listening to Heewa talk about something that made very little sense this early in the morning, but still nodding along like it was the most important story in the world.
It was easy.
Simple.
And for the most part… peaceful.
The walk to the kindergarten felt lighter than the day before. Maybe because her mind was already half at work, running through ideas, plans, the outline of the presentation she had been building since yesterday.
She had stayed up a little later than usual, refining it.
Not because she had to.
Because she wanted to.
That still felt new.
At the entrance, Heewa turned to her, bouncing slightly on her heels.
“Can I show you my drawing later, Mama?”
“Of course,” Y/N said, crouching down in front of her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s really good.”
“I’m sure it is.”
A quick hug.
A bright smile.
And then she was gone again, disappearing into the building with the same energy as always.
Y/N watched her for a moment.
Then stood, exhaling quietly before turning away.
Work.
The office felt busier than usual.
Not in a loud way. Just… a little more focused. A little more alert.
She noticed it as soon as she stepped in.
Something about the energy had shifted.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
She greeted a few people as she walked to her desk, setting her bag down before pulling out the folder from yesterday.
The K-pop assignment.
Her eyes moved over the notes again, even though she already knew them.
Brand collaboration. Fresh concept. Youth-oriented campaign.
Nothing too complicated.
Nothing too overwhelming.
And definitely nothing that would involve...
She stopped that thought immediately.
There was no point even considering it.
Her colleague had already said it.
Not a big group.
They wouldn’t get that kind of contract.
So there was nothing to worry about.
She sat down, opening her laptop, going over her slides one last time.
Everything was ready.
Exactly how it should be.
“Big day?”
She looked up at the voice, blinking slightly.
Standing beside her desk was someone she hadn’t expected to see this early.
Kim Jisoo.
Not the one most people would think of.
Different department.
Different floor.
Someone who technically had no reason to be hovering around her desk this often.
“Something like that,” she replied, offering a small smile.
Jisoo leaned slightly against the edge of her desk, casual as always.
He was… attractive.
That was the simplest way to put it.
Sharp features, neatly styled hair, the kind of confidence that came naturally rather than forced. The kind that made people pay attention when he walked into a room.
He always dressed well.
Always spoke smoothly.
And he always… lingered.
“I heard you got the K-pop assignment,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “That’s a good one.”
“It seems interesting,” Y/N replied.
“That’s one way to put it.”
She raised a brow slightly. “You don’t think so?”
“I think it’s more than interesting,” he said with a small smile. “Especially for a smaller firm like ours.”
She shrugged lightly. “It’s still just work.”
“And you’re still taking it very seriously,” he noted.
“That’s my job.”
“And you’re good at it.”
She paused for a second.
“Thank you.”
There was a brief silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… there.
“I’m actually on that project too.”
Y/N blinked.
“You are?”
“Mm.” He nodded. “Different angle, but same campaign.”
She hadn’t expected that.
“Oh.”
“Surprised?”
“A little.”
“I’ll try not to be a distraction then.”
There was something in the way he said it.
Light.
Playful.
Familiar.
Y/N let out a small breath, shaking her head slightly. “I think I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Another pause.
“What time’s the meeting?”
“Ten.”
He checked his watch. “Perfect.”
She frowned slightly. “Perfect?”
“Gives me enough time to walk with you.”
She huffed quietly. “You don’t even know if I was planning to go now.”
“You were.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because you’re prepared,” he said simply. “And people who are prepared don’t wait until the last minute.”
She stared at him for a second.
Then shook her head.
“…You’re not wrong.”
“I usually’m not.”
She rolled her eyes slightly, standing up, grabbing her folder.
“Come on then.”
He smiled.
The walk to the meeting room was short.
Too short, in a way.
Because Jisoo didn’t stop talking.
Not in an annoying way.
In a way that made the silence feel lighter.
Easier.
“So,” he said as they reached the door, glancing at her briefly. “You busy this weekend?”
Y/N paused slightly.
There it was.
She had expected it.
Eventually.
“I have a daughter,” she said carefully. “So… yes.”
“I know.”
That made her look at him.
“I still asked.”
She hesitated.
Because that wasn’t something she heard often.
Not like this.
Not… uncomplicated.
“We could work around that,” he added, pushing the door open slightly but not stepping in yet. “Coffee. Lunch. Something simple.”
Y/N studied him for a second.
He wasn’t pushy.
Wasn’t trying too hard.
Just… offering.
And for a moment, something in her chest shifted.
Because it had been a long time since she allowed herself to even consider something like this.
A long time since she thought about anything beyond work and Heewa.
“…Maybe,” she said slowly.
His expression brightened just slightly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t say no.”
She sighed quietly.
“…Fine. Maybe coffee.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
“It’s a maybe.”
“I’ll take it.”
She shook her head, a small smile slipping through despite herself.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Ready.”
And stepped inside.
The room was already occupied.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Several people seated.
Some she recognized.
Some she didn’t.
Her attention moved quickly, professionally, taking in the space, the setup.
She froze.
It happened in an instant.
Like the air had been knocked out of her lungs without warning.
Because sitting across the table was ATEEZ.
All of them.
Every single one.
And for a second, her mind refused to catch up.
Refused to process what she was seeing.
Because that didn’t make sense.
This wasn’t supposed to be...
Her grip on the folder tightened.
Her heartbeat loud.
Too loud.
His eyes met hers.
Choi San
Shock.
Pure, unfiltered shock.
It was written all over his face.
Not hidden.
Not controlled.
Just… there.
“Y/N?”
Her name.
Spoken like it had been pulled out of him without permission.
The room went quiet.
Too quiet.
Every head turned.
Every gaze shifting between them.
Y/N felt it.
All of it.
But she didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Not the way she wanted to.
Because years of holding herself together didn’t just disappear in a moment.
She swallowed.
Forced her expression into something neutral.
Professional.
And stepped further into the room like nothing had happened.
“Good morning,” she said calmly.
Like her world hadn’t just tilted off ist axis.
Like she hadn’t spent five years building a life that didn’t include him.
Like he wasn’t sitting right there.
Staring at her like she had just walked out of a memory he never got to finish.
“Sorry for being late,” she continued, moving to the empty seat across from them.
Beside her, Jisoo had gone quiet.
San hadn’t.
“What are you doing here?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Too direct.
Too personal.
Too much.
Y/N didn’t look at him immediately.
She set her folder down.
Opened it.
Adjusted her posture.
And only then ahe lifted her gaze.
Meeting his eyes with something controlled.
Something distant.
“I work here,” she said simply.
And the tension in the room shifted.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
Because this wasn’t just a normal meeting anymore.
This was something else.
Something none of them were prepared for.
San stared at her.
Still trying to process.
Still trying to understand.
And around him, the other members watched quietly.
Because they knew her too.
Knew exactly who she was.
And exactly what this meant.
And Y/N...she just sat there.
Back straight.
Hands steady.
Expression calm.
Like her heart wasn’t beating too fast.
Like her past hadn’t just walked back into her life without warning.
Like she hadn’t just agreed to coffee with someone else moments before stepping into a room she never thought she’d see again.
She inhaled slowly.
Then looked at the rest of the table.
“Shall we begin?”
And just like that, she forced the world to keep moving.
Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Taglist: @ninjakitty15 @dalsuwaha @starmee-lodurrson @luviebears @darjeelinglemontea @ffenjoyerdazme @moonlitcelestial @livonianmaia @m00njinnie @tinycloudz @whoreforjongho @shrimpwoo @soso59love-blog @armycarat2612 @yunhospinkyring @okiedokiespookie @lunaryoongie @firstdivisiongirl @autumnrainsings @meowmeeps @scoutyy @goblin-pop @hope122598 @sunnysidesins
Divider by @kodaswrld
AHHHHHHH WTF IM HOOKEDDDD
𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 | 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖
𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: stray kids (ot8) & reader
𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖/𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: zombie au, non-idol au, dark fic, major & minor character deaths, choose your own ending, heavy angst, doomed from the start, action/adventure, horror, violence, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, swearing, no happy ending, dead dove
𝕡𝕠𝕧: 2nd person
𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: blood, swearing, mild violence, one instance of blasphemy
𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: one day, you're catching up with your friends that you haven't seen in months. the next, you're fleeing to australia as a mysterious virus that's turning people into zombies has taken over south korea. with the country locked down and the rest of the world closing their boarders, will the nine of you survive?
𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 8,900
𝕥𝕒𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: open
𝕒/𝕟: i just want to warn, there is a sort of blasphemous line in this that may offend some readers. i just want to remind everyone that this is a work of fiction and i nor do my character reflect stray kids' beliefs. so please, just read this as a story and don't take anything to heart.
𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 | 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥
©feelbokkie (2025) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
“We are now receiving reports of multiple hospitals across the country being overrun by what citizens are calling zombies. Hospitals have begun releasing those infected with the Mokpo Virus to protect patients and hospital staff. Many hospitals are turning people away until proper screening procedures for the virus have been developed. Temporary clinics are being developed for those who are suspected of having developed the Mokpo Virus based on the little information discovered by doctors. More military personnel are being deployed to major cities to help protect those not infected. Elected officials are urging citizens to remain at home unless absolutely necessary until proper safety measures are put in place. If you or a loved one…”
The nine of you stare at the TV in Chan’s living room, transfixed in various expressions of horror, fear, and panic as the country you once knew and loved is crumbling right before your very eyes. You sit on Chan’s couch, sandwiched between Felix and Hyunjin. Jisung sits on the floor, dangerously close to the TV, while Minho sits in an armchair just behind him. Jeongin sits on the armrest of the couch next to Felix, his hand resting on his shoulder. Seungmin, who was pacing around the room just a few minutes ago, is held still by Changbin near the front door. Chan stands behind all of you, one arm across his chest with a hand over his mouth.
No one moves. No one says a word. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume that no one took a single breath.
A large part of you hopes that you drank too much the night before, and you’re trapped in some hellish coma nightmare. Or maybe you died from alcohol poisoning, and this is a hell circle of hell.
“Are we sure this is real?” Jisung finally breaks the silence. His voice is low, nearly a whisper, as he continues to watch the chaos unfolding on the screen. “Like…we didn’t drink too much last night, and this is some sort of weird hangover dream or something?”
“Considering I only had one drink before switching over to soda for the rest of the night, I don’t think so.” Chan breathes, running his hands through his already too messy hair.
Jeongin presses his lips into a fine line as he surveys the room. Reading the expression on everyone’s faces and absorbing the tense atmosphere. “I know we’re close, but I don’t think we’re ‘hallucinate the same nightmare’ close.”
Again, the room falls silent. Unspoken words linger in the air. The nine of you had every intention to just leave once everyone arrived at Chan’s apartment. Everyone who traveled from their apartment complexes to Chan’s thought all the chaos happening outside was just the general panic that enveloped everyone when the news dropped. Nobody knew how much worse everything got in such a short amount of time.
You’ve only been half paying attention to the news. A large part of your mind was focused on the ten bags sitting in a disorganized pile by the door, where each of you dropped them off. All of you agreed to pack as lightly as possible. To fit whatever you can into one easy-to-carry bag. You nearly took up the entire 2 hours trying to figure out what to pack. How could you possibly fit everything important to you into one bag? Should you focus on the essentials like legal documents and papers you may need when you start your new life? Should you take any mementos embroiled in memories that you can never replace? Like the Lego bonsai tree that Felix bought you when you were going through a particularly rough patch mentally and built with you while you vented? Or the poster you got from the first concert you went to when you moved to Seoul for school? Do you take the book Hyunjin gifted you for your birthday that he annotated for you with little notes and doodles? Or the hoodie you stole from Changbin four years ago that he said you could keep when he found it during a movie night? How many clothes should you pack? All while wondering if there was anything you might have been forgetting. Like your passport and wallet. With all that swirling in your mind, you’re not even sure what you packed anymore.
Hyunjin’s knee bumps into yours, dragging your attention back to the present situation. Jisung is now fully facing the group. His face pale, almost as if he’s seconds away from vomiting all over Chan’s carpet. Whether he’s flushed because of how rapidly things are turning for the worse, or still the slightest shade of green from the previous night’s festivities, you’re unsure. Everyone else’s eyes are glued to the television, awaiting the next disaster to strike as footage of people fleeing the streets you vividly remember walking down peacefully over the years.
“We have to be smart about this.” Chan mutes the TV and walks around the couch, putting himself in the center of the group. Everyone’s attention snaps to him. Chan's mouth turns into a fine line as he scans the room, searching for something. Maybe the answers to all your problems. “If what In said earlier is true, then everyone is going to be on high alert. We already agreed on leaving via boat, but we don’t have a plan to get to Incheon.”
You sit up a bit straighter on the couch, shaking your head as you try to focus all of your attention on the escape plan. Escape first. Everything else later. “How far away are we?”
“It’s about 23 miles from here to Incheon in general. Which is about…” Minho looks up, almost like he’s trying to find the answer written above him in the sky. Or physically roll his eyes into his skull to see if the solution is written on his brain. “30 total miles, give or take, to get from here to the harbor.”
“Let’s walk,”
All the attention in the room shifts to Seungmin. Changbin’s grip on him loosens quickly, almost as if he’s convinced that Seungmin’s naivety is contagious. Jeongin's hand flies to his mouth, practically physically preventing whatever insult popped up in his head. Minho blinks heavily at the younger man, his mouth open with a slight smirk of disbelief. Hyunjin rubs his temple, trying to relieve himself of the sudden headache forming while on the other side of you, Felix’s body is shaking as he suppresses a laugh. Jisung looks up at Seungmin with his face scrunched up in confusion while trying to ascertain whether he’s joking or serious. Chan, for the first time since this ordeal started, wears a blank expression on his face, resembling a computer rebooting.
“You want to walk 30 miles?” You scoff in disbelief, breaking the silence.
“It’s just a suggestion,” He shrugs.
“Listen,” Changbin grabs Seungmin by the shoulder and turns him so that he’s looking at him. "It would take someone walking at an average speed a little over 7 hours to walk 30 miles. And that's if they go without stopping. Considering we have heavy bags and some of us walk slower than others…some of us--not naming names--get winded just walking up a couple of flights of stairs. Walking 30 miles will literally kill them."
Without hesitation, Seungmin smirks. "It's okay, you can say Jisung."
"I'll hit you." Jisung threatens from his spot on the floor.
“Walking for 7 hours straight is insane but,” A thought lingers in the air as Minho pauses for a moment with his palms facing up, moving up and down as if he’s physically weighing options. Whether it’s because he’s thinking or trying to create a dramatic effect, you’re unsure. What you are sure about is that Felix is fighting every urge in his body not to let his internet-induced rotted brain make a stupid joke about Minho’s hand movements. “Not only would it kill us, it’d also kill the zombies. So, we’d have that going for us at least for a plan b.”
A loud, pained groan pulls your attention to Jisung, who is now crouched down on the floor with his hand nearly tangled in his hair. “Have you ever seen a single zombie movie? Those things have Olympic athlete levels of stamina and strength. We are genuinely fucked.”
“I swear to God I’m about to crash out,” Hyunjin mutters as he gets up from the couch. He walks over to where Jisung is and pulls him up by the collar of his shirt. Jisung releases his hair and grips onto Hyunjin’s arms, trying to push him off. “Han Jisung, stop comparing everything to zombie movies! Those aren’t real.”
Immediately giving up all hope of getting free, Jisung stops trying to get out of Hyunjin’s grip. “Do you realize the type of bullshit we’re currently dealing with? It sounds stupid, but zombie movies are the only frame of reference we have for whatever the fuck is going on.”
"Why is walking even an option?" Jeongin stares at the group with a single raised eyebrow, expressing his skepticism and confusion at the absurdity of the situation.
“It’s not,” Several of you chime in unison in various degrees of anger and annoyance. Seungmin sits quietly in the corner with a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.
"Well, public transportation sure as hell isn't an option.” Jisung finally manages to successfully free himself from Hyunjin, making sure to quickly walk to the other side of the room to avoid being trapped again. “Even if it wouldn't be insanely packed with people right now, I've seen Train to Busan enough times to know that any form of public transportation during a zombie outbreak is a sure-fire way to die."
"Again, that is fictional. This,” Hyunjin’s arm flails around as he gestures to the chaos currently happening in the country. Spasms of irritation cross his face despite his best efforts to conceal his annoyance. “This is real life."
"Okay, and? So is the Bible, and people follow that. Some people even call it the basic instructions before leaving earth.”
The room falls silent as all the attention in the room is once again focused on Jisung. Nobody moves an inch. A sense of dread washes over you. Seungmin’s fist stops mid-air on its way to Changbin’s bicep. Jeongin’s hand is practically tangled in the hem of his shirt, knuckles white. Hyunjin’s mouth hangs open, eyes open wide. You feel Felix tense up beside you. Both Changbin and Minho share an awestricken look as they watch the younger man starting to shift his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, suddenly conscious of all the attention on him. Even Chan stopped pacing around the room. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that everyone stopped breathing.
“Well, if he wasn’t going to hell before, he sure as shit is now.” A forced chuckle escapes Jeongin, the strained laughter unable to fully mask the underlying disgust in his voice.
Seungmin scoffs, mouth agape with a smirk creeping up his face. “Is there a word other than ‘blasphemous’ to call the words that just came out of his mouth or…?”
“I don’t think you can compare a sacred religious text in a religion to Train to Busan,” Changbin states, caution laces his voice as if lightning will strike Chan’s apartment if someone utters one more problematic sentence.
“That’s not what I was implying. I just meant—” Jisung let’s out a loud, frustrated groan, hands flying up to his head and getting tangled in his hair as he looks to Minho for help. The older man quietly shakes his head, letting his best friend know that he’s officially on his own. “Forget it. None of you are going to listen to me anyway. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.”
“Fucking finally,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath.
"Are you guys done?” Chan finally snaps, breaking his silence on the matter. Whatever had him lost in his thoughts earlier seems to have been resolved, and now he’s back in the present. “We're wasting time discussing this."
You clear your throat and sit up a little straighter, trying to help rein the group back in before Chan gets more upset. "So, we drive."
“In what? Minho hyung's shit box?” Seungmin’s mouth is open, his previous smirk whipped from his face, but his words are laced with sarcasm and disdain.
“Seungmin, you need to seriously hesitate before you speak.” Felix groans as he tosses his head back, feeling yet another argument about to start.
"Insane thing to say to someone who is literally about to save your life," Minho says deceptively calm. The tensing of his jaw betrays him.
Seungmin throws his hands up, showing that, for once in his life, he meant no harm with his comment. "I wasn’t trying to be an asshole or smart. I just meant that even if we manage to squeeze all nine of our asses in that car, there is no way it's making it to Incheon. That thing has broken down more times than Jisung has this year."
Jisung’s mouth opens to argue back, but quickly shuts again. Nobody dares to argue with Seungmin. Everyone knows how bad Minho’s van is. It served the group well back in university when it was cheaper if you all pitched in for gas and took turns being designated drivers during your end-of-the-week rendezvous around the city. And when walking to campus during horrid weather wasn’t an option unless any of you wanted to get sick. Sometimes, a few of you would just hang out in the parking lot between classes, catching up, or cramming for exams. It was more reliable than trying to fight for a spot in the library or one of the food places. But like all good things, the van got older and started to break down more often. Most recently, the van broke down when you, Minho, Changbin, and Chan were helping Hyunjin move into his current apartment. The four of them had to push the overfilled van while you sat in the driver’s seat to keep the van going in the right direction. The idea of the van breaking down in the middle of the disaster that’s going on right now and having some of the group exposed to the zombies while trying to push the van is making your stomach tie knots.
"Well, we can't take Changbin hyung’s car. It's a two-seater." Jeongin notes, messing up his normally perfect hair as he runs his hand through it.
"And Hyunjin's only takes five people at most," Felix adds.
Your hands find the hem of your shirt as you sit up in your seat. Your fingers fiddle with the end of a piece of thread as you clear your throat. "We can probably fit two more people in Changbin's car."
"It wouldn't be smart to take more than one car.” Chan quickly dismisses the group’s suggestions. He crosses the room with no clear purpose. He settles behind Jeongin. “We don't know how the roads are being patrolled right now. For all we know, they could be limiting how many people enter certain parts of the country. It'd be pointless if we planned all this out only for half of us to not be able to enter Incheon."
"So,” You start, your tone deceptively even. Like you aren’t very quickly becoming overwhelmed by everything. “We take Minho’s van and pray that it runs long enough to at least cross the city limits into Incheon."
"Okay, transportation is set,” Chan claps his hands together. Felix quietly jumps in his seat, startled by the sudden loud noise. “But we still have a major issue."
“Now what?” Jisung drops himself from his crouching position and lets his body completely flop down to the floor as he groans.
“We still need commercial fishing licenses to get past the military guards that are no doubt stationed by the pier. And we’re going to be on a boat for a while. All of our efforts would be pointless if we starve to death before we reach Japan.” Chan continues, ignore Jisung’s dramatics.
Jeongin turns to Minho, who is once again trying to look into the back of his own head. “How long would we be at sea?”
More thinking and then, “A week,”
“A week?” Hyunjin gasps, eyes blinking with incredulity.
Side-eyeing Hyunjin, Minho pauses again before speaking. “Give or take a few days,”
“Give or take a few days?” Hyunjin grabs onto your arm, trying to stop himself from falling into the couch, his impossibly large eyes trained on Minho.
Minho gives one firm nod after thinking a bit more. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so?” Hyunjin’s grip on your arm tightens.
“Hey!” You, Seungmin, and Hyunjin jump as Changbin suddenly shouts. “Are you going to parrot everything he says?”
“Sorry,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath as he finally lets go of your arm, leaving behind faint crescents indented into your skin.
"I have an idea for the licenses, but some of you aren't going to like it," Felix says wearily.
"What, are we breaking into a government office?" Jeongin jokes.
"Well—"
"Oh my God, you can’t be serious. We're committing felonies now."
"We were already planning on committing felonies by having forged government documents and sneaking out of the country.” You laugh nervously, your stomach tying itself in knots again. “At this point, what harm is adding a little burglary to the list?”
“Federal prison.” Seungmin deapans.
“Anyways,” Felix continues, pulling the attention back on him, “we'd have to break in at night.”
“No, no way.” Chan says firmly, shaking his head as he immediately shuts down Felix’s plan. “We need to leave immediately, and we’ve already wasted enough time coming up with an escape plan."
"If we're trying to pretend that we're fishermen, then leaving tomorrow morning might be the most believable. The best time for fishing is at dawn, so it won’t be as suspicious as us leaving hours after a lockdown was announced." Minho turns to the oldest in the group and tries to reason with him.
Chan presses his lips into a fine line, making eye contact with Minho.
The two of them stare at each other in silence, almost as if a telepathic argument was happening right in front of you.
“Fine, we’ll leave at the crack of dawn and commit additional federal crimes. Anything else?” Chan huffs. Felix grins before pulling his phone out of his pocket, immediately going into his notes app and typing.
“If we sail in that chunk of sea between Jeju and the mainland, then we’d probably end up somewhere in the Saga prefecture. Maybe Nagasaki? Nautical miles are a bit shorter in terms of general distance, but let’s just say it’s about 800 kilometers away.” Minho starts to think again. “If we sail at a normal speed and assuming absolutely nothing happens while we’re in the middle of the ocean, then…it might take about 5 days minimum.”
“Earlier, you said it’d take over a week.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
Minho shrugs. “I don’t know the exact timing. I’ve never sailed to Japan before. I’m estimating.”
“We’re going down like the Titanic.” Jisung groans from the floor.
“I thought you said you’d shut up?” Hyunjin spits.
“About zombie movies. I’ll still provide commentary.” Jisung spits back.
“Well, stop it. You’re making me anxious.” You finally snap, having had enough of the nausea coursing through your body.
“Five to seven days if everything is smooth sailing, right? So, to be safe, we need enough food for at least two weeks. Fuel too,” Seungmin thinks, finally being helpful with the planning.
“Two weeks' worth of food for nine people? In this economy? Are you serious?” Jeongin’s jaw falls slack.
“And three cats,” Minho adds.
“I’m sorry,” Chan starts slowly, “but we can’t take the cats with us.”
“Why the hell not?” Minho’s tone is cold as he spaces his words evenly. His calm demeanor slowly begins to crack.
“Changbin, Jisung, and Seungmin are allergic.” You remind him, your words soft as you try to help stop the impending tension in the room from growing.
Minho points to the pile of things by the door. Duffle bags, suitcases, and backpacks lay in a pile next to a beige, plastic-looking box with holes on the side and a top handle. “The cats have been here the entire time, and none of them has said a single thing.”
“Actually, my throat’s been itchy and my nose a bit stuffy—” Jisung stops talking as a pillow hits him in the face. Hyunjin slumps back into the couch with a satisfied grin on his face.
“Hyung, not to be an ass, but it’s already going to be hard enough to get nine of us out of here. Adding live animals is going to be even harder.” Jeongin tries to explain, his voice small.
“I. Am. Not. Leaving. My. Cats.” Minho’s voice is stern with no vestige of flexibility in its hardness as he grits each word through his teeth.
“We can’t take them, Minho.” Chan’s voice is understanding as he tries to take a step towards Minho.
“Then you’re not using my van or my boat.” Minho crosses his arms, not shaking on the matter.
“Hyung—”
“I already have to abandon my parents!” Minho’s voice is so tight it cracks, nearly breaking. He takes a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat before beginning again. “And my other friends. I grew up with most of them. They’re basically my family, and I can’t—I’m not leaving my cats. I can’t leave my cats.”
Chan takes another step forward, placing his hand on Minho’s shoulder, knowing that’s the closest the youngest man is going to let him get before he starts to feel uncomfortable. “Fine, we need two weeks' worth of food for nine and two weeks' worth of allergy medicine for three.”
“And fishing licenses,” You remind him.
“And how do we get all that?” Jeongin asks.
“We have to split up,” Felix adds, not looking up from his phone.
“Famous last words,” Jisung mumbles.
“Seriously, not the time.” You warn him as you watch Hyunjin from the corner of your eye, making sure he’s not about to throw something else at Jisung.
“Hey, I’m just stating facts. We can use zombie and horror movies as a how-to guide to survive whatever the hell is going on. And in every single horror film, someone suggests that the group splits up, and then at least one person ends up dead.”
“Nobody is going to die,” Chan promises.
“We have no choice anyway,” Felix speaks up again. “About splitting up. Not the…dying thing. There are too many of us. If we travel around as a large group all around Incheon, we’re going to draw attention to ourselves.”
“Then let’s do groups of three. One group gets food, another one gets gas along with whatever other boat supplies we need, and the last one commits a felony.” Changbin suggests.
“We can figure all that out on our way to Incheon. C’mon, I think we’ve settled everything now. Let’s go,” Chan claps his hands twice to signal for everyone to start moving.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Jisung sits up quickly, a panicked look takes over his face. “We’re just going to go out there? Unarmed? While those things are roaming around.”
“We were all fine when we were coming here.” Jeongin shrugs as he walks over to the pile of bags and looks for his.
“That was before hospitals were unleashing those things into the general public. Who knows what it’s like out there right now?”
“We’re not unarmed.”
Everyone stops in their tracks and turns to Minho, waiting for him to make some sort of joke about all the muscle in the group. But he stays silent, adding to the overall uneasiness in the room.
“Well, I don’t like the sound of that,” Hyunjin mumbles mostly to himself.
“When I said to pack the essentials…” Chan starts slowly, eyes drifting to Minho’s belongings.
“I packed the essentials.” Minho nods as he starts counting on his fingers. “Clothes, medicine, family keepsakes, legal documents, my gun—”
“They’re going to lock us up in a military prison!” Jisung cries out, flopping back onto the floor and throwing his hands over his face.
Changbin steps away from the bags like Minho packed a bomb. For all you know, he probably did. Chan hesitates for a moment, looking Minho up and down, trying to figure out if he is currently armed. “I get the idea, and I know you can handle that thing since you basically live at the shooting range in your free time, but you can’t just…bring a gun with you.”
“You expect me to walk out into a zombie apocalypse without one? Did you think I was learning how to use one to be quirky?” Minho tilts his head and stares at Chan with soft, seemingly innocent eyes. Chan roughly rubs his hands over his face and just walks over to the pile of bags by the door, no longer wanting any part of the conversation.
“You learned how to use a gun in anticipation of a zombie apocalypse?” Jeongin questions.
More silence fills the room as Minho just shrugs in response. Felix lets out a sigh as he slides his phone into his pocket and walks over to get his things, completely ignoring the newest chaos brewing in the room. Seungmin keeps his mouth shut and quietly gets his belongings together. It’s almost as if it finally dawned on him that his actions can have consequences, and pissing off Minho is not an instance where he wants to fuck around and find out. Jisung stays on the floor, eyes out of focus as he stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out how exactly he got himself into this situation. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin are the only three who stay frozen in place, trying to reason with Minho. Chan stands near the door, grabbing whatever bags he can carry.
For the first time since you woke up this morning, you feel calm. The lump in your throat disappeared. The turbulence in your stomach has settled. Your heart is back to beating in a normal rhythm. Your thoughts are no longer racing. The fact that one of you is properly armed and can protect you if it comes down to it comforts you. You quietly join Chan and Seungmin in the pile of your belongings.
“We’re already smuggling nine people and three cats into Japan—” Hyunjin starts to explain. Even though your back is towards him, you can perfectly imagine the look of distress currently spreading across his face as he attempts to be Minho’s voice of reason.
“And breaking into a government building.” Jeongin reminds him.
“Right, so let’s not add smuggling weapons into our list of crimes.” Hyunjin
“You need to get rid of that thing. Especially with the military roaming the streets.” Changbin adds.
“I’ll get rid of it once we’re safely on the boat.” Says firmly, not willing to budge on the matter.
“You’re really stubborn today,” Seungmin mutters under his breath. You watch from the corner of your eye as Seungmin freezes in place, his eyes wide in terror, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“As opposed to…?”
“We’re wasting time,” Chan says as he adjusts the bags on his shoulders. He quietly tilts his head to the rest of the pile, quietly commanding Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jeongin to help. He makes eye contact with Minho before letting out a tired, defeated sigh. “Minho, conceal that thing and only bring it out in an emergency. Until then, everyone just grab…something to defend yourselves.”
Seungmin pats his duffle bag and smiles, “I have a baseball bat.”
“Of course you do,” Jisung mutters under his breath.
***
The low hum of the car’s engine fills the quiet atmosphere. Low murmurs of conversation are happening all around you. Not even the three cats huddled together in the pet carrier right behind Minho let out so much as a mew. The soft thuds from the row in front of you where Changbin quickly hammers nails in Seungmin’s wooden bat for him, muffled by a jacket, drown out the rest of the silence. Seungmin mutters his concerns as he hands Changbin more nails and watches worriedly as the bat becomes increasingly more dangerous in the moving car.
Chan sits in the passenger seat beside Minho, quietly on the phone with someone and writing notes on a napkin from Minho’s center console. Hyunjin sits in the second row behind Chan. His eyes are closed as his fingers drum along to whatever song is playing in his headphones, trying to settle his nerves. Felix sits just beside him, on the phone with his mom. he managed to download a VPN to change his location and use FaceTime audio. Hardly any words come from Felix other than him agreeing to whatever she’s saying. You sit in the very back, sandwiched between Jeongin, Jisung, and some of the baggage poking out from under the seat. Jeongin sits quietly, typing something into his notes app, pausing every couple of minutes to think and start again. Jisung works on a Japanese learning app that you saw him download when you were helping the others load the car.
It was decided within the first 10 minutes of the drive that Minho would take Hyunjin and Jisung with him to get supplies for the boat. Mainly because Jeongin, who was volun-told to be in charge of the grocery shopping by Seungmin, only agreed to do so if Hyunjin and Jisung weren’t going to go with him. Instead, he picked Changbin and Seungmin to accompany him. Which leaves you, Chan, and Felix in charge of getting the fishing licenses.
Jeongin’s knee bumps into yours, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Any suggestions?”
“For what?” You ask.
“Sorry,” He scratches the back of his head as he holds up his phone. “I’m just making a shopping list, and I wanted to know if you had any suggestions.”
“What do you have so far?”
“Here,” Jeongin hands you his phone and relaxes back into his seat. “Coming up with things we can eat without cooking and that don’t need to be refrigerated is a lot more difficult than I thought it was going to be.”
You scan the list. There’s not much on it: cereal, jerky, various canned foods, a few fruits, crackers, and peanut butter. Things that can sit on the boat for a while without refrigeration. There’s not much else you can come up with off the top of your head.
You pass the phone back to him. “Add water and a drink with electrolytes.”
“Don’t get too many bottled drinks. Too much weight on the boat will capsize it. Get a few boxes of those electrolyte powder drinks instead.” Changbin suggests over his hammering. How he hasn’t accidentally hit himself or Seungmin in a moving vehicle, you’ll never know.
“Can’t believe I forgot water,” Jeongin mutters as he quickly updates the list.
“We’re going to be surrounded by water, though. Do we really need to bring some?” Jisung questions.
“Go ahead and drink the ocean water. Be my guest.” Minho quips from the front of the car.
“Well, if the virus doesn’t get him, the sea will,” Seungmin adds.
“Don’t say that!” Jisung whines beside you.
You quickly clap your hands over your ears, barely muffling the noise. “Hyunjin was smart to bring his headphones.”
Seungmin undoes his seatbelt and fully turns around to face you, a mischievous smirk taking up his face. You can almost swear you can see a tail wagging behind him. “Get used to the chaos. We’re going to be stuck on a boat together for a while.”
“I brought a deck of cards,” Felix says, finally ending his call with his family.
“You had to pack up your entire life, and you put in a deck of cards?” Jeongin scoffs.
“I just thought we might get bored on the— “
“I know it’s a little late to be asking this, but are we sure there’s really a zombie apocalypse going on right now?” Jisung asks suddenly.
A few of you turn to Jisung to see what brought on this sudden outburst. At some point during all the chaos, he had put his phone away and began staring out the window. There’s not much to look at other than vibrantly green trees.
To avoid traffic and as much chaos as possible, and to bypass any possible lockdown that might go on in Seoul, it was decided to avoid the national highways on the way to Incheon as much as possible. It made the half-hour trip longer, but it was safer overall. The last bit of the trip required you to drive through a wooded area. The abandoned route would have made you anxious if you didn’t see the ramped chaos going on around you when you were leaving Seoul. It’s still eerie. Nothing but trees and dirt for miles. Even if it’s safer, you want to get out of the woods as soon as possible.
“And what? There’s just a massive case of mass hysteria going on right now?” Jeongin asks, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“It happened with War of the Worlds.” Hyunjin pulls out his headphones and puts everything in his pocket.
Changbin pauses his hammering and furrows his eyebrows together, thinking for a moment. “I don’t remember learning about that war.”
“It’s not an actual war.” You tell him. You turn to Hyunjin for confirmation. “It’s a book, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m not talking about the book. I’m talking about the radio show.” Hyunjin turns around the best he can in his seat, leaving his seatbelt buckled.
Seungmin turns around again, his back pressed against the window so he can easily talk to everyone on either side of him. “So, they adapted a novel into a radio show. What does that have to do with this?”
“No—” Hyunjin waves Seungmin off before trying, and failing, to face him. He huffs out a sigh and just settles in his seat. “In the late 30s they adapted H.G. Wells’ book The War of the Worlds for a Halloween radio show. And for the first half of the show, they had this very realistic breaking news format. Only, a lot of people thought it was a real news report. Some thought it was an actual alien invasion because of what was being said. Others thought it was the start of World War II. The last group of people who thought it was a real broadcast thought it was some sort of natural disaster.”
“How and why do you know that?” Felix stares at Hyunjin, mouth hanging open in awe at the impromptu history lesson.
Hyunjin shrugs. “I like going down Wikipedia rabbit holes before bed.”
“As plausible as that is,” You start, calling the attention in the van back on you. “I highly doubt a fake broadcast like that would air on national television without some sort of warning. Or at the very least, a message apologizing for the chaos.”
“True, but have you seen any zombies roaming around? Because I’ve only seen crazed people screaming about the end of the world. It could also just be some sort of elaborate prank. Like some stupid Mr. Beast thing or something.” Jisung explains.
You watch as Seungmin blinks slowly for a moment, like he’s trying to remember something. Not even a second later, his eyes widen as he sits up quickly. “Wait, didn’t Jisung say something about getting jumped yesterday? And the person was trying to bite him?”
More silence fills the car. You feel Jeongin scoot closer to the window, trying to get as far away from Jisung as possible.
“Hey!” Jisung shouts, sitting up straight in his seat. His eyes are wide as he glances around the car. “It could have been someone under the influence! Drugs and alcohol can make you do some crazy things! Remember back in college when Hyunjin hyung got so drunk that he—”
“Why don’t we keep the past in the past?” Hyunjin cuts him off quickly.
“I’d like to mention one thing from the past,” Felix says sheepishly. “How do we know that Jisung didn’t get bitten last night?”
Everyone turns back to Jisung, scanning him for any visible signs that he’s been bitten: pale skin, a sheen of sweat, red eyes—anything that should raise alarms. But there are none. Still, you can’t be too safe. Some people are asymptomatic. Even Minho is peeking through the rearview mirror to check him out.
“I don’t like the look any of you are giving me right now. Let’s just keep our hands to ourselves. I promise you, if I were bitten, you would know.”
“True, he’d be whining and complaining about it so much that we’d sacrifice him to the military ourselves,” Changbin reassures everyone.
“But— “
The van jerks suddenly. The luggage in the back gets jostled around. Changbin drops the hammer and baseball bat on the floor and grabs onto Seungmin just before he falls out of his seat. Both Jeongin and Jisung’s arms fly out in front of you to prevent you from hitting your head on the seat in front of you. Felix stabilizes himself by stretching out his arm in front of him, grabbing onto Minho’s headrest. Hyunjin quickly grabs the cat carrier that was sitting on the floor between him and Felix. Chan grabs the passenger grip aide with both hands. Minho takes control of the steering wheel with both hands to keep the van going straight. The van rumbles and makes a strange clanging noise as it starts to slow down.
Just as suddenly as it jerked, the van stops altogether.
“Fuck,”
“That didn’t sound good.”
“Is everyone okay?”
“As again in a few minutes. I think we’re all in shock.”
“See, I told you we couldn’t trust this old ass van.”
“Now is not the time for I told you so’s!” Minho shouts over the complaints as he cuts the engine.
“It absolutely is,” Seungmin mutters.
“Alright, everyone out,” Chan says suddenly with a false sense of calm in his voice.
“Excuse me?” Hyunjin questions, gripping his seatbelt like Chan is about to unbuckle it and drag him out of the car.
“Minho has to try to see if he can fix the car. We should take advantage of the break and stretch our legs.”
“Are we forgetting the fact that we are quite literally in the middle of a fucking zombie apocalypse?” Jisung shouts.
Chan turns around in his seat and scans the car, taking in everyone’s worried expressions. His face softens, his eyes twinkling in the light as he sighs, “We’re nowhere near the main roads. The odds of a human being here are slim. There’s less of a chance of anything else being here, too.”
Jisung is the first to unbuckle his seatbelt. He slides his phone in his pocket and climbs over you and Jeongin to get out from his spot in the corner. “I’m going to trust you because my legs are getting stiff from being in this van. But if I get turned into a zombie, I’m coming after you first, hyung.”
“You can try. But even with amped up strength and stamina, you’re probably just as weak as you normally are.” Seungmin cackles.
“I don’t like any part of this conversation,” Jeongin mumbles beside you.
“Relax, they're both joking.” You reassure him. You pause a moment and look at Seungmin and Jisung. “Right?”
“I’m 1000% serious.” A mischievous smirk quickly takes over his deceivingly innocent face.
“Me too,” Jisung adds before leaving the car.
“I’m staying in the van.” Jeongin settles into his seat, determined to stay in the car.
“Can someone let the cats out for me?” Minho asks just before exiting the car.
You watch as he walks to the back of the van, opens the trunk, and starts sifting through all the luggage.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and twist around in your seat to face him. “Aren’t they going to run away?”
“Now, they’ll stay nearby. They just need a break after being crammed in the pet carrier for so long. They probably have to use the bathroom too.”
“Okay, I’ll get them.” You nod.
Minho quietly thanks you before slamming the trunk and returning to the hood of the van, immediately trying to get to work despite the heat of the engine. One by one, everyone, except for Jeongin, exits the van. Seungmin takes his newly weaponized bat and wanders off towards a tree, taking practice swings. Chan follows behind him at a safe distance, warning him to be careful. Changbin heads over to Minho, helping him fix the van to the best of his ability. Felix follows Hyunjin over to a tree and sits with him quietly. Jisung gets out of the van, does a few stretches, and then quickly gets back into the van. You grab the pet carrier and open the door so the cats can walk out. It takes a while before you see a paw poke out. Dori walks out first, checking the area before leaving the carrier, followed by Soonie and Doongie.
For a moment, everything feels normal. Not like you and your friends are trying to escape the country you’ve grown to love and consider your home for your best chance of survival. The overwhelming sense of fear and dread leaves your body as you take in the atmosphere. You sit on the floor, keeping a close eye on the cats. The swaying of the trees in the slight breeze relaxes you. In the corner, you can hear Seungmin laughing loudly as he plays a demented version of baseball with Chan, who is throwing small rocks at the younger man to get him to practice hitting things with the spikey end of his bat. Changbin eventually walks over to you, hands you some snacks for the cats, and walks back to the van to go back to helping Minho. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori ignore the snacks in your hand, more concerned about their surroundings as they sniff the ground and swat at things invisible to you from where you stand. Felix talks quietly, resting his head in Hyunjin’s lap while he draws in his sketch book. Jeongin stays in the van, having a conversation with Jisung, who is sitting on the edge of the open door.
You’re not sure how long the seven of you wait for Minho and Changbin to finish with the van. Chan and Seungmin are now sitting with Hyunjin in Felix, the bat now in Chan’s hand after confiscating it from the formerly swing-happy Kim Seungmin. Jeongin and Jisung stay in the van, now helping Minho and Changbin by turning on the car when they ask in an effort to get it started. You stay in the middle of the clearing, sitting and watching as the cats play nearby. You try not to think too much of what lies in the dirt as random twigs and rocks dig into your legs. The fear of moving them from under you and accidentally touching a bug or small animal is too great. But the new fear is a welcomed distraction from what is actually going on in the world right now.
“We did it, hyung!” Changbin cheers, jumping up. His hair is messy from his hands running through it. A small streak of grease is smeared across his cheek.
“Don’t jinx it, idiot.” He warns him as he shuts the trunk. He turns his attention to Jeongin in the driver's seat. “Keep it running. Everyone! Asses in the van now!”
The van bounces a little as Jeongin and Jisung climb out of the front seats and move back into their own spots. Minho and Changbin wipe their hands on their pants as they walk away from the hood of the van and to their respective doors. Still chatting, the remaining four members of the group get up from their spot under the tree, cleaning themselves off as they walk back to the van.
“Alright, guys, back in your cage.” You call out to the cats as you open the carrier door before standing up. You look up to only find two cats. “Where the hell is Doongie?”
You coo at Soonie and Dori to coax them back into their carrier. They walk back with hardly any resistance, much to your surprise.
“Y/n! Come on!” Chan calls after doing a quick head count.
“Hold on!” You call back. You lock the carrier door and wander off deeper into the wooded area.
You do your best to open the Churu tube that Changbin gave you earlier with your teeth without actually getting any in your mouth. Soonie and Dori start meowing once the smell of the tuna hits their noses. Or maybe they’re helping you by calling for their brother.
“Doongie! Come out, we gotta go! Your dad is going to kill me if anything happens to you.” You whisper the last part to yourself.
You hold the tube low in front of you, waving it slightly so the scent could hopefully reach Doongie and pull him out from his hiding place. A large part of you prays that Doongie is the only animal that smells the food. You’re not sure what you’d do if a wild animal came out right now instead. Minho would probably trade it in for you as punishment for losing one of his beloved cats.
“Doongie!”
The further you walk into the woods, the more your heart stumbles over its own rhythm. Your stomach is churning with a mixture of anticipation for something to go wrong and hesitation to continue walking alone in the woods. Your ears pick up every sound: The snapping of twigs under your feet. The yelling from the guys, urging you back to the van, is now faint. The once comforting rustling of the leaves in the wind. Hissing—
“Doongie! There you are!”
A couple of feet away from you, Doongie is standing in front of you in an abandoned campsite. A fire is still smoking like it had gone out not too long earlier. A backpack with its contents thrown askew around the campsite. An overturned empty pot. And directly across from Doongie, a red tent with some tears in it. Doongie stands far enough away from the tent that he can’t see inside of it. Still, he stands frozen, hissing at it. His body is perfectly arched, and his fur stands straight up, spooked by whatever is in the tent. Even Soonie and Dori have quieted down. You can feel the weight of the two of them shifting towards the back of the pet carrier. You want nothing to do with whatever animal is currently scaring the cats.
You gently set the carrier down on the ground and open the door. You crouch down and hold the Churu tube out in front of you. “Come here, Doongie. It’s safe over here with me, Soonie, and Dori. Come here.”
He doesn’t move for a moment. Just as you’re about to walk over to him and risk getting scratched to grab him and toss him in the carrier, he starts walking slowly towards you backwards, still hissing. Once he’s passed the fire pit, he quickly turns around and runs into the carrier. You let out a sigh of relief that you wouldn’t have to live in the woods to evade Minho’s wrath and lock the carrier again.
You stand up, ready to return to the others, when you hear a noise you didn’t hear earlier.
Faint growling.
You slowly pick up the pet carrier, heavy in the back now that Doongie has crawled as far away from the door with Soonie and Dori. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as your eyes remain locked on the tent. Part of you is telling you to see what has the cats so scared. The other part of you is screaming to run back to the car. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you start towards the tent, the cats hissing in protest. The tent begins to rustle as whatever is growling inside moves around. You take one step forward just as something—no, someone—bursts through the red nylon.
A woman stands in front of you, skin whiter than freshly fallen snow. The whites of her eyes are dark and red, almost as if pooled with blood, drowning her irises. Her dyed brown hair messy like she, or someone else, had been pulling it. Her clothes are torn and covered with dirt and dried blood. Scraps along her legs peek through the rips in her jeans. The rip in her light blue linen button-up reveals a large bit mark.
“Shit,”
You tighten your grip on the pet carrier and make a run for the van. You hear the woman running closely behind you. You try not to think about where the person who bit her might be. Or even if they’re in the woods. You don’t think about much other than getting to the van.
You run faster than your body should be able to allow you as the growling gets louder behind you. Your legs quickly feel like lead as you push yourself. You don’t dare to look back again, you know it’ll only slow you down. You try weaving in between trees to trip up the woman to no avail. Breathing is harder; your lungs feel like they’re being squeezed by a boa constrictor. Your heart might give out before you get attacked.
“There you are—Guys, look behind Y/n!” Jisung shouts from the van once you’re clearly in his line of sight. You watch as everyone in the back huddles around him, looking out from the open door.
Wide, panicked eyes stare at you. Strained screams for you to run faster could be heard across the country. Chan wastes no time opening his door and running towards you. Seungmin, who pushed his way out of the backseat of the van and ran towards you with his bat in hand, is faster than him. Chan scolds him and tries to pick up his speed to catch up to the younger man.
“Y/n, duck!” Seungmin shouts when he gets closer to you.
Just as you’re about to pass him, you duck down. The combination of your running speed, the weight of the cats, and the sudden shift of body weight causes you to stumble. You do your best to protect the cats from the hard dirt.
Thwack!
Something wet hits your cheek. There’s a moment of silence and then sudden cheering coming from the van. Chan catches up to you and Seungmin, panting for air as he stretches his arm out to help you up. Once up, you try to turn to see what happened. Seungmin stops you, quietly shaking his head as he takes the pet carrier from you. His expression is unreadable. Chan quickly ushers the two of you to the van, making sure to keep an eye out for more unwanted guests.
Your heart is pounding in your chest by the time you reach the van. You can see everyone around moving and hear them talking, but you can’t make out the words coming out of their mouths. Jeongin and Jisung speak quickly and excitedly as they praise Seungmin. Changbin takes the bat away from him and smacks the back of his head, no doubt scolding Seungmin for his rash behavior. Minho pulls the pet carrier to the front seat and checks on the cats quickly as Felix and Hyunjin pull you into their row. Felix wraps his arms around you, using all of his strength to turn himself into a sort of human weighted blanket. Hyunjin begins brushing the dirt off of you and pulling twigs out of your hair. You don’t push either of them off. Your body and brain are trying to catch up with each other as you try to process what just happened. Chan shuts the van door after doing another head count and climbs back into the passenger seat.
After making sure the cats are okay, Minho puts the carrier back in its original spot and quickly drives off. You stare at where you just were. A motionless body lies flat on its back. Hyunjin gently pulls your chin so you can face him. He wears a small smile, but his eyes betray him. Panic dances in them as he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe your face. You see the small streak of blood near the hem once he’s done. Your hand reaches up to your face, only to find it blemish-free. You squeeze your eyes shut and lean your body into Felix. Hyunjin’s hand finds your head and quietly smooths your hair as Felix talks about nothing, trying to settle your heart rate.
“So,” Jisung clears his throat. “So either that person was tripping really badly on MDMA or the zombie outbreak is real.
—
tag list
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—
buy me a coffee?
Soft Mornings || Jeonghan x fem!Reader
a quiet day at home with jeonghan, full of clingy touches, sleepy kisses, and the kind of love that feels easy.
REQUEST from my 200 follower celebration
The first thing you feel when you wake up isn’t sunlight.
It’s weight.
A warm arm draped over your waist. A leg hooked lazily over yours. The steady rise and fall of a chest pressed to your back.
“Don’t move,” Jeonghan mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.
You huff softly. “I wasn’t.”
“You were thinking about moving.”
You try not to laugh because that would shake him, and he’d only cling harder. He always does. He tightens his hold anyway, nose pressing into the back of your neck, breath warm against your skin.
“Five more minutes,” he whispers.
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
“And I meant it.”
You turn slightly in his arms, just enough to see his face. His hair is messy, falling into his eyes, lips slightly pouty in that unfair way he has even when he’s half-asleep.
“You have practice,” you remind him.
“I have you.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“It should be.”
He pulls you fully into his chest now, burying his face against you like you’re a pillow he refuses to give up. His hands slide under your shirt, palms resting warm against your bare waist. Not teasing. Just needing.
Jeonghan has always been like this at home. On stage with SEVENTEEN he’s playful, sharp, a little mischievous. But here, in your apartment, he’s clingy in the softest way. Like he spends all day giving himself away and comes back to collect the pieces from you.
“Stay,” he murmurs again.
You smooth your fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He sighs at that, satisfied, like you just answered something bigger than the question.
—
Eventually you do get up. Mostly because he refuses to, and if you don’t make coffee nothing will function.
You barely make it three steps toward the kitchen before you hear soft footsteps behind you.
“I knew it,” you say without turning around.
“You left,” he replies, as if personally betrayed.
“I’m making breakfast.”
“I can help.”
“You’re just going to stand behind me and hold me.”
“… yes.”
You don’t argue because he’s right.
The moment you start scrambling eggs, his arms snake around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder, cheek brushing yours. He sways you gently from side to side, slow and lazy.
“You smell good,” he mutters.
“I haven’t even showered.”
“Exactly.”
You roll your eyes, but your hands move automatically to cover his where they’re clasped at your stomach. He presses a kiss to your jaw. Then another. Then one just behind your ear.
“You’re being clingy,” you say, but your voice is softer now.
“I’m always clingy.”
“That’s true.”
He smiles against your skin. “You love it.”
You don’t answer, but you lean back into him just a little more.
—
After breakfast, he sprawls across the couch dramatically, patting his chest.
“Come here.”
“You’re so demanding,” you say, but you go anyway.
The second you sit down, he pulls you on top of him, arms wrapping around you like you might disappear. His fingers trace absentminded patterns along your back. Circles. Lines. Little taps.
You scroll through your phone while he watches you instead of the TV.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I like your face.”
“You see it every day.”
“And I’m still impressed.”
You shake your head, trying not to smile too wide. He reaches up and pokes your cheek.
“Stop being cute,” he says.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does to me.”
His thumb drifts along your jaw, slow and gentle, before tilting your face down toward his. The kiss he gives you is unhurried. Soft. Familiar. It lingers because neither of you is in a rush.
When you pull back, he chases you for one more.
“Jeonghan,” you laugh.
“One more.”
“You just had one.”
“And?”
You give in, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. He hums happily, tightening his hold around your waist.
“You’re so spoiled,” you tell him.
“By you.”
“Exactly.”
He grins at that, completely unashamed.
—
Later, when he finally has to leave for practice, he moves slower than usual. Shoes on but not tied. Jacket half on. Standing by the door like he’s waiting for something.
You cross your arms. “What.”
“A proper goodbye.”
“You already kissed me.”
“That was a hallway kiss. I want a door kiss.”
You walk up to him, sliding your hands under his jacket to grip his hoodie.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re stalling.”
He dips his head, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you again. This one is deeper. Still soft, but lingering. His hands settle at your waist like they always do, grounding himself there.
“Text me,” he says quietly when he pulls back.
“I always do.”
“Still.”
You smooth his collar. “Have a good practice.”
“Only if you miss me.”
You sigh. “I’ll miss you.”
He beams like you just handed him the world.
“Good,” he says, finally stepping out the door. “Because I already miss you.”
And you’re only half joking when you call out after him—
“Five more minutes would’ve been easier.”
Masterlist Taglist
@atetheluck @imbaebi @wanna-plan-world-domination @flmdrva
Y/N is used to being misunderstood. People see her dark style and assume the worst, so she sticks to the only place where she feels normal: a small ice cream shop.
But when a bad day leads her into an abandoned university building, she accidentally discovers a secret host club run by eight masked boys… who apparently have zero marketing skills.
Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (Y/N)
Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Comedy, College AU, Light Angst
Tropes: Misunderstood girl, “Everyone thinks she’s scary but she’s soft”, Soft boy x guarded girl, Secret identity, Hidden world / secret club, Slow burn romance, Found family, He fell first
Featuring: OT8 chaotic host club dynamics, Y/N’s two iconic best friends (Soojin & Hana)
Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
This is Part 4
The night air was colder than Y/N had expected.
It wasn’t unbearable.
Not enough to make her complain.
But enough to settle into her skin slowly, slipping through the thin fabric of her dress and the loose knit of her cardigan.
She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively as they walked.
Not too obvious.
At least, she hoped it wasn’t obvious.
The streets were quieter now, the earlier buzz of the evening fading into something softer. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the distant hum of the city blended with the faint sound of the river somewhere ahead.
Beside her, Yunho walked at an easy pace.
Not too fast.
Not too slow.
Like he was matching her steps without thinking about it.
Neither of them spoke.
Not yet.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just… full.
After everything that had happened earlier, it felt like there were too many things sitting between them. Too many thoughts that had not been said out loud.
Y/N stared ahead, her breath visible in the cool air.
Don’t think about it. Don’t overthink it.
Just walk.
Her fingers curled slightly into the sleeves of her cardigan as another small gust of wind brushed past them.
She tried not to react. Tried not to shiver.
Failed. Barely noticeable.
But Yunho noticed.
She didn’t realize it until he suddenly stopped.
Her steps faltered as she turned slightly toward him.
“What—”
He didn’t say anything. Just shrugged off his jacket.
Before she could process what he was doing, he stepped closer and gently placed it around her shoulders.
Careful.
Like he was afraid she might pull away.
Y/N froze. Her breath caught slightly.
“It’s cold,” he said.
He didn’t look at her. Not directly.
His gaze stayed somewhere near her shoulder instead, like that made it easier.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
“You’re not,” he replied just as quickly.
She blinked.
Then smiled. “…thank you.”
He nodded once. Still not really looking at her.
And something about that made her chest feel warm in a completely different way than the jacket did.
They kept walking.
This time, a little closer.
But close enough that she could feel the warmth from his side.
After a few minutes, Yunho spoke again. “Are you hungry?”
Y/N blinked. “…a little.”
He nodded toward the direction ahead. “There are street stalls near the Han River.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “The Han River?”
He glanced at her briefly. “Yeah.”
She nodded quickly. “Okay.”
There was something about the way she said it that made the corner of his lips lift slightly.
The closer they got, the more the atmosphere shifted.
The quiet of the streets gave way to soft chatter, the smell of food filling the air, lights reflecting off the water in the distance.
It was lively. But not overwhelming. Just enough to feel warm.
Yunho led her toward one of the stalls, ordering without hesitation.
“Tteokbokki,” he said.
A few minutes later, they stood side by side, waiting.
She reached into her bag instinctively.
“I’ll pay—”
“It’s fine,” he said immediately.
She looked up. “No, I can—”
“I said it’s fine.”
He didn’t sound annoyed. Just certain.
She hesitated. Then slowly lowered her hand. “…okay.”
The vendor handed them the food, and Yunho took it, stepping aside so she could stand next to him again.
They didn’t talk much as they walked toward the river.
The sound of the water grew louder. The lights reflected across the surface like something out of a movie.
Yunho found a bench.
She followed.
For a while, they just ate. In silence.
The warmth of the food helped. The spice settled pleasantly. The night air didn’t feel as cold anymore.
Y/N tucked her hands into the sleeves of his jacket, the fabric slightly too big on her.
It smelled faintly like him.
She tried not to think about that too much.
“Are you interested in Yeosang?”
Y/N choked.
She coughed slightly, turning toward him in shock. “What?”
Her voice came out higher than she intended.
Yunho didn’t look at her. He focused on his food like the question had been completely normal.
“You and him,” he said. “Earlier.”
Y/N’s brain short circuited. “No.”
Too fast. Too loud.
She blinked. Then started again. “No, I mean— it’s not like that— we just— I fell and he— and then— it was an accident—”
Her hands moved as she spoke, trying to explain something she didn’t even fully understand how to explain.
“I don’t— I’m not— he’s not—”
She stopped. Took a breath.
Her face burned. “I’m not interested in Yeosang.”
Silence.
Then Yunho chuckled.
Y/N froze. “You’re laughing at me,” she said.
He shook his head slightly. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Then paused. “…why are you laughing?”
He exhaled softly.
Still not looking at her. “I’m just…”
He stopped. Then said it anyway. “I’m glad.”
Y/N blinked. “…you’re glad?”
He nodded.
She stared at him. “Why?”
That got him to hesitate.
Just for a second.
And then she saw it.
The faint red at the tips of his ears.
He still wasn’t looking at her. “…because that means,” he said quietly, “I still have a chance.”
Everything stopped.
The river. The noise. The air.
Her thoughts.
“…what?”
Her voice barely came out.
He didn’t answer immediately.
And that made it worse. Better. More real.
Her heart started racing.
Fast. Too fast.
“Why would you—” she started.
Then stopped. Then tried again. “Why would you want that?”
He turned then.
Looked at her.
And for a second she forgot how to breathe.
Because there was no hesitation in his expression. No teasing. No uncertainty.
Just something steady.
Something that had been there longer than she realized.
He reached out.
Gently.
His thumb brushing against the corner of her lips.
Y/N froze.
“Sauce,” he said softly.
Her brain didn’t process the word.
Only the feeling.
The way his thumb lingered just slightly longer than necessary.
The way he looked at her.
He pulled his hand back.
Looked at his thumb.
And without thinking he licked it.
Y/N’s eyes widened. Her entire body went still. “You—” she started.
Nothing came out.
He looked back at her. Like that hadn’t just happened.
“I’ve liked you,” he said.
Simple. Direct.
“Since the first time you came into the ice cream shop.”
Her heart stopped.
Then started again. Even faster.
“I didn’t know you,” he continued. “But I noticed you.”
Her hands tightened around the edge of the bench.
“You always ordered the same thing.”
Her breath hitched. “Vanilla. Strawberry. Something sweet.”
He smiled slightly. “And you did this thing.”
Her eyes flickered. “What thing?”
He looked at her like it was obvious. “That little happy movement,” he said. “When you liked it.”
Her face burned. “I do not—”
“You do.”
She covered her face immediately. “Oh my god.”
He laughed softly. Not mocking. Just warm.
“I thought it was cute,” he said.
That word again. Cute.
“I’ve thought that since then.”
Y/N slowly lowered her hands.
Looked at him.
She believed it.
Not because of what he said.
Because of how he looked at her.
Like he had been seeing her this whole time.
Not the rumors. Not the whispers.
Her.
“You’re serious,” she said quietly.
“I am.”
Silence.
Y/N’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.
Because suddenly…
Everything her friends had said made sense.
Everything she had tried to ignore.
Everything she had been afraid to believe.
It was real.
And somehow that was more terrifying than anything else.
But also better.
She smiled.
And this time she didn’t try to hide it.
For a while, Y/N didn’t say anything.
She just… stared at him.
Her mind had gone completely still, like everything inside her had paused at once and refused to move forward.
Yunho was still sitting beside her.
Close enough that she could see every small shift in his expression.
Close enough that his words still felt like they were echoing in the space between them.
I’ve liked you since the first time you came into the ice cream shop.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the bench.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not like this.
Not to her.
Her thoughts tried to catch up, but they tripped over each other, tangled and messy and completely useless.
She just kept looking at him.
Like if she looked away, it might disappear.
Like if she blinked, she would wake up and none of this would be real.
Yunho held her gaze at first.
Steady.
Certain.
But slowly something shifted.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.
Then another.
His shoulders dropped just slightly. His eyes softened.
He looked away. “…I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
The words came quieter this time.
Careful.
Like he was trying to take something back without actually taking it back.
Y/N’s heart dropped.
“I just—” he started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
He stood up. Too fast.
Like he needed to move.
“I’ll just—” he continued, not looking at her now. “I’ll bring you home.”
No.
The thought came instantly.
No.
Before she could overthink it she reached out.
Her hand closed around his wrist.
Yunho stopped.
Turned. Surprised.
She was still sitting on the bench, her hand wrapped around his, her fingers trembling just slightly.
“…wait.”
Her voice came out softer than she expected.
He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.
Just looked at her. Waiting.
Y/N swallowed.
Her heart was racing again.
But this time, she didn’t try to stop it.
“I’m not uncomfortable,” she said.
He blinked.
“It’s just—”
She hesitated. Then forced herself to continue. “I’m surprised.”
The word felt small compared to everything she was feeling.
But it was the closest she could get.
He frowned slightly. “…surprised?”
She nodded.
Her grip on his hand tightened just a little.
“That you would be interested in me.”
The sentence felt strange out loud.
Yunho opened his mouth.
But she spoke again before he could say anything.
“Since I started university…” she said, her voice quieter now, her gaze dropping briefly before lifting again, “I’ve always felt like an outsider.”
The words came easier than she expected.
Like they had been waiting. Like they needed to be said.
“Like I didn’t really belong anywhere.”
She laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was true.
“People look at me and decide who I am before I even say anything.”
Her fingers curled slightly against his.
“And after a while, you just…” she trailed off.
Adjusted. Accepted it.
Stopped expecting anything else.
“But when I was with you…”
Her voice softened. Her eyes met his again. “I didn’t feel like that.”
There was a pause.
“But when I was with you,” she repeated, more certain this time, “I felt seen.”
Yunho didn’t look away.
Not this time.
He stepped closer again.
Like he didn’t want to break the moment.
“I couldn’t look away from you.”
The words came just as quietly.
But they landed.
“The first day I saw you,” he continued, his voice steady now, “on campus.”
Y/N’s breath caught.
“You walked past and I just—” He stopped. Shook his head slightly. “Everything else just kind of… disappeared.”
Her heart stuttered.
“I didn’t even know your name,” he added. “But I kept noticing you after that.”
She stared at him. Completely still.
“You always looked like you were thinking about something,” he said. “Like you were in your own world.”
A small smile touched his lips.
“And I wanted to know what that world looked like.”
Y/N felt something warm spread through her chest.
Something that had nothing to do with the jacket still wrapped around her shoulders.
“And then you came into the shop,” he continued.
She blinked.
“You looked different there,” he said. “Softer.”
Her breath caught again.
“And when you smiled at me the first time…”
He let out a quiet breath.
“I think that’s when I was done.”
Y/N laughed softly.
Not because she meant to.
Because she didn’t know what else to do with everything he was saying.
“You’re serious,” she said again.
He nodded. “I am.”
Yunho’s hand shifted slightly in hers.
His fingers adjusting.
Holding her hand properly now.
Not just something she had grabbed.
Something he was holding back.
Y/N felt it.
That small change.
And her heart reacted immediately.
He stepped closer again.
Close enough that she could feel his presence fully now.
Close enough that the rest of the world faded into the background.
Her breath slowed.
Then hitched.
Because he leaned in.
Slowly.
Giving her time.
Giving her space.
Letting her pull away if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
Her eyes flickered briefly to his lips.
Then back to his eyes.
And then she leaned in too.
Just a little.
He kissed her.
Soft.
Careful.
Like he had thought about it before.
Like he had been waiting.
Y/N’s mind went quiet again.
But this time, not from shock.
From something else entirely.
Her fingers tightened slightly in his hand. Her other hand instinctively lifting, brushing lightly against his sleeve.
The world faded.
The river. The lights. The noise.
Everything.
There was only this.
This moment. This feeling.
And the realization that she wasn’t imagining it. She wasn’t misreading it. She wasn’t alone in it.
When he pulled back, it was slow.
Reluctant.
Their foreheads almost touching for a second before he leaned away just enough to look at her.
Her heart was still racing. Her lips still warm. Her thoughts still… gone.
She blinked.
Then laughed softly.
A little breathless. A little disbelieving.
“…okay.”
It wasn’t a perfect response.
It wasn’t even a proper one.
But it was real.
And Yunho smiled.
That soft, warm smile she had noticed from the very beginning.
The one that made everything feel a little easier.
A little lighter.
A little more possible.
And for the first time since she had stepped into university—
Y/N didn’t feel like an outsider.
Yunho couldn’t stop smiling.
He had tried.
For about ten seconds.
It hadn’t worked.
His hand was wrapped around hers, fingers laced together properly now, not careful or hesitant like before. He swung their hands slightly as they walked, the movement light and almost absentminded, like his body had decided this was normal before his brain had the chance to catch up.
He glanced at her again.
And then again.
And then again.
He knew he was staring. He didn’t care.
She was right there.
Next to him.
Her hand in his.
His jacket around her shoulders.
His Girlfriend.
The word echoed in his head, settling somewhere deep and refusing to leave.
Girlfriend.
Yunho grinned again. He leaned slightly closer. Stole another quick kiss against her cheek. Then another, softer one near the corner of her lips.
He didn’t even try to be subtle about it. “I can’t believe this,” he said.
Y/N blinked at him, her face still flushed. “…believe what?”
“That you’re actually here,” he said.
She laughed softly, looking down for a moment. “I was always here.”
“Not like this,” he said immediately.
She didn’t answer that.
But the small smile on her lips widened just slightly.
Yunho squeezed her hand. “We should go out again,” he said.
“We are out right now,” she replied.
“I mean like… properly,” he corrected.
She tilted her head slightly. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But we could go somewhere nice.”
He thought for a second.
“Or not nice. Just somewhere.”
She laughed again.
“We could go back to the river,” he added.
“We’re already here,” she pointed out.
“Then we go somewhere else next time,” he said quickly.
She shook her head, amused. “You’re planning a lot.”
“I’ve had time,” he said.
That made her pause. “…you have?”
He nodded. “I just didn’t think I’d actually get to do it.”
Her expression softened.
And Yunho felt something warm settle in his chest again.
He leaned in again, brushing a soft kiss against her temple this time. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to help it.
They turned down a quieter street.
The lights dimmer here. The noise fading again.
It felt like their own little space.
Until.
“…wait.”
Yunho looked up.
Two girls stood a few steps ahead.
Looking directly at them.
Specifically st their hands. At the way Yunho was very clearly holding hers. At the way he was standing close enough that there was no space left to misunderstand anything.
Y/N stiffened slightly beside him.
Yunho noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
The girls looked at each other.
Then back at them.
“…what?”
Yunho blinked. “What?”
“You,” one of them said, pointing between them. “What is this?”
Yunho looked down.
At their hands. Still linked.
Then back at them.
And without hesitation he grinned.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
The words came out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Like there had never been another option.
Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly in his hand.
The girls froze. “…your what?”
“My girlfriend,” he repeated.
Y/N felt like she might combust beside him.
The girls stared.
Then looked at her.
Then at him.
Then at their hands again.
“…okay,” one of them said slowly.
“That was not what I expected today,” the other added.
Yunho laughed. “Same,” he said.
They were quiet for a moment.
“You know,” one of them said, turning slightly toward Y/N, “we never really believed those rumors about you.”
Yunho’s smile faltered.
Just slightly.
Y/N looked up. “…you didn’t?”
They shook their heads.
“They sounded… exaggerated,” the other said. “Like someone was just making things worse on purpose.”
“Yeah,” the first nodded. “Like jealousy.”
Yunho’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened just a little.
The girls smiled.
Then one of them looked back at him.
“Honestly, I think it’s kind of cool what you guys did.”
Yunho blinked. “…what?”
“The host club,” she said.
Yunho went still.
The other girl nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it’s a little crazy, but still.”
Yunho’s chest tightened. “How do you—”
“Everyone knows now,” she said.
The words landed like a drop into still water.
Everything shifted. “…what?”
“You didn’t hear?” the other asked.
Yunho’s mind went blank. “No.”
They exchanged a look.
Then one of them continued.
“A girl followed some of you guys after closing,” she said. “When you were leaving.”
Yunho’s jaw tightened.
“She took pictures,” the other added. “While you were changing.”
His stomach dropped.
“And then she posted them.”
Yunho didn’t say anything.
Couldn’t.
His thoughts caught somewhere between anger and disbelief.
“She even found out why you started it,” one of them continued.
Yunho’s head snapped up.
“…what do you mean?”
“About San,” she said.
Yunho’s entire body went still.
“She said he lost his scholarship,” the other explained. “And that you all started the host club to help him stay in university.”
Silence.
Yunho’s mind caught up slowly.
Painfully.
He knew that part.
Of course he did.
They all did.
That was the whole reason.
San had tried to hide it at first. Tried to act like it was fine.
But it hadn’t been.
And they had all decided, together, that they would figure something out.
Even if it meant doing something ridiculous.
Something like this.
What he didn’t know…
What he hadn’t expected…
Was that everyone else knew too.
“…I didn’t know that got out,” he said quietly.
The girls nodded.
“It’s all over now,” one of them said. “People are talking about it.”
“Some of it is a little harsh,” the other added. “Especially online.”
Yunho swallowed.
The weight of it settled in his chest.
Not just embarrassment. Not just anger.
Something else. Something heavier.
But the girls smiled again.
“Still,” one of them said, “we think it’s cool.”
“Yeah,” the other nodded. “You guys are good friends.”
Yunho looked at them.
Then nodded slowly. “…thanks.”
They waved lightly.
“Good luck,” one of them said.
“With everything,” the other added.
And then they left.
The street felt quieter again.
But not in the same way as before.
Yunho didn’t move for a second.
Didn’t speak.
Y/N looked at him. “…are you okay?”
He nodded. Automatically.
“…yeah.” It wasn’t a lie.
Not entirely.
He exhaled slowly. “I was going to tell you,” he said after a moment.
She tilted her head.
“About the host club.”
Her expression softened. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to,” he said.
She watched him carefully.
Then smiled. “I think it’s cute.”
He blinked. “…what?”
“You guys,” she said. “Helping San.”
Yunho stared at her. “That’s not cute,” he said.
“It is,” she insisted. “It’s… kind.”
He didn’t know what to say to that.
So he didn’t.
He just looked at her.
And felt something in his chest ease.
Just a little. “…can we go to him?” Yunho asked.
The question came out quieter this time.
More serious.
Y/N didn’t hesitate.
She nodded.
“Of course.”
She leaned in.
Pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
Yunho froze.
Her face flushed immediately as she pulled back.
“It’s okay,” she said, almost shy now.
Yunho stared at her.
Then he grinned.
Again.
That same wide, unstoppable grin from before.
“Okay,” he said.
And just like that, even with everything else, he felt like he could handle it.
Yunho had expected tension.
Silence, maybe.
At least some kind of serious atmosphere.
After what the girls had just told him, it felt like everything should have shifted. Like something important had been exposed. Like they were about to walk into damage control, or panic, or at the very least a very intense discussion.
Instead the moment he opened the door to San and Wooyoung’s apartment, chaos greeted them.
Not the controlled kind.
Not the fun kind.
The loud, dramatic, completely over-the-top kind.
“I told you this was a bad idea!”
That was San.
Pacing.
Back and forth.
Like he was wearing a hole into the floor.
His hair was slightly messy, his sleeves pushed up, and his entire presence screamed panic.
“We’re done,” he continued, throwing his hands up. “It’s over. Everyone knows. This is it.”
Wooyoung was sitting on the couch.
Completely relaxed.
Eating something.
“…you’ve said that five times already,” he replied.
“It was a different tone each time,” Jongho added from the side.
“That does not make it better,” San snapped.
Yeosang leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I am not being dramatic,” San insisted. “Someone literally exposed us.”
Mingi, stretched out in a chair, didn’t even look up. “We’re not a secret organization.”
“We kind of were,” Hongjoong said.
“Barely,” Mingi replied.
Seonghwa walked past with a cup of something, entirely calm. “You’re overreacting.”
“I am not overreacting,” San said again.
The door clicked shut behind Yunho.
No one had noticed yet.
San kept pacing.
“This was supposed to be low-key,” he continued. “Controlled. Strategic.”
“You yelled ‘welcome’ at customers,” Jongho said.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It kind of is,” Yeosang added.
San ran a hand through his hair. “People are going to talk. They’re going to judge. This is going to ruin everything.”
Wooyoung leaned back. “Relax.”
“I can’t relax!”
“Try harder.”
San stopped pacing.
Turned.
Pointed.
“You are not taking this seriously.”
Wooyoung took another bite of whatever he was eating. “I am. I’m just not panicking about it.”
San looked like he might actually lose it.
That was when he noticed them.
“Yunho—”
He stopped.
Mid-sentence. His eyes dropped.
To their hands.
Still linked. Still very obviously linked.
There was a pause.
“…oh.”
The room went quiet.
Not because of the host club.
Because of this.
Mingi sat up.
Wooyoung leaned forward.
Yeosang’s eyebrow lifted.
Hongjoong blinked.
Seonghwa stopped mid-step.
Jongho looked between them once.
Then again.
“…well,” Wooyoung said slowly.
“That’s new,” Mingi added.
San stared. Completely frozen.
Yunho didn’t hesitate.
He squeezed Y/N’s hand slightly.
Grinned. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“What?” Wooyoung shouted.
“You’re kidding,” Mingi said.
“You’re not kidding,” Yeosang added.
Seonghwa smiled slightly. “That great.”
Hongjoong nodded.
Jongho crossed his arms. “About time.”
Y/N’s face was burning beside him.
San, however…San stepped forward.
“Y/N,” he said, grabbing her hands dramatically.
Yunho blinked.
“Tell them,” San continued, his voice full of urgency. “Tell them this is less important than the host club situation.”
Yunho frowned. “Hey—”
“Please,” San insisted, ignoring him. “We need to focus.”
Y/N blinked.
Looked at Yunho. Then back at San.
Then smiled. “Why?”
San froze. “…what?”
“Why is it more important?” she asked.
“Because—” he gestured wildly. “Because everything is out now. People know. They’re talking. This is bad.”
“No one is freaking out,” she said gently.
San stared at her. “They should be,” he insisted.
“They’re not,” she repeated.
Y/N continued, her voice steady. “They don’t care as much as you think.”
San shook his head. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” she said. “Some people are talking. But not everyone is judging.”
He hesitated. Just slightly.
“And even if they are,” she added, “it doesn’t matter.”
That made him stop. Completely.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.
San stared at her.
Like he hadn’t considered that.
Like it hadn’t occurred to him.
From the couch Mingi stretched.
“I actually like it,” he said casually.
San turned slowly. “…what?”
“The host club,” Mingi clarified. “It’s fun.”
San blinked. “Fun?”
“Yeah,” Mingi nodded. “And we make money.”
Seonghwa set his cup down. “That too.”
San looked between them. “You’re serious?”
Seonghwa nodded. “I enjoy it.”
“You enjoy it?” San repeated.
“It’s nice,” Seonghwa said. “Talking to people. Creating a space like that.”
Wooyoung raised a hand. “And flirting.”
“Of course you like that part,” Jongho muttered.
“I’m good at it,” Wooyoung said proudly.
Yeosang tilted his head. “You think you are.”
“I am,” Wooyoung insisted.
San looked overwhelmed. “Wait,” he said. “You’re all just… okay with this?”
“Yes,” Mingi said.
“Yes,” Seonghwa added.
“Yes,” Yeosang agreed.
“Yes,” Hongjoong said.
Jongho nodded once.
Wooyoung raised both hands. “Very yes.”
San looked like he didn’t know what to do with that.
“You’re not worried?” he asked.
“No,” Mingi said.
“You’re not embarrassed?”
“No.”
“You’re not—”
“San,” Seonghwa said gently.
He stopped.
“You needed help,” Seonghwa continued. “We found a way.”
San’s expression shifted.
Softer now.
“People found out,” Seonghwa added. “That doesn’t change why we did it.”
San exhaled slowly.
The tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “…okay.”
“…also,” Wooyoung said, pointing again, “you two.”
Yunho groaned. “We are not done with that.”
Mingi nodded. “Definitely not.”
San turned again.
This time less panicked.
More focused. “…since when?”
Yunho smiled. “Today.”
“That’s illegal,” Wooyoung said.
“It’s not illegal,” Jongho replied.
“It feels illegal.”
Y/N covered her face. “I regret coming here.”
“No you don’t,” Wooyoung said immediately.
“She doesn’t,” Yeosang confirmed.
San blinked. “…okay,” he said.
Then looked at Yunho. “…but seriously?”
Yunho nodded. “Seriously.”
San looked at Y/N.
Then back at Yunho.
He grinned. “Finally.”
The room filled again.
Laughter.
Teasing.
Energy returning.
And Yunho just stood there.
Still holding her hand.
Still smiling.
This felt like the best outcome.
Two months.
If someone had told Y/N that two months could change this much, she wouldn’t have believed them.
Not back then.
Not when every hallway felt too loud.
Not when every whisper felt like it was about her.
Not when she had walked through campus feeling like she existed slightly outside of everything, like she was watching other people live something she didn’t quite get to be part of.
She adjusted the sleeve of her cardigan slightly as she walked through the familiar path toward the abandoned university building, her boots echoing softly against the ground.
It didn’t feel abandoned anymore.
It hadn’t for a while.
Not since the rumors had changed.
Because they had.
At first, the whispers had gotten louder.
Of course they had.
Y/N and Yunho.
Y/N and the group.
Y/N in the host club.
People had talked.
A lot.
Some of it curious.
Some of it judgmental.
Some of it just… noise.
But over time it had settled.
Not disappeared.
Just…Shifted.
Now it was normal.
Normal to see her walking with them.
Normal to see Yunho next to her.
Normal to see her laughing with people who had once only existed on the edge of her world.
Normal.
The word still felt a little unreal.
But she liked it.
The door opened.
Warmth spilled out immediately.
Voices.
Laughter.
The soft hum of conversation.
The host club had changed too.
It was busier now.
Full.
Not just a hidden little secret anymore, but something people actively sought out. Not chaotic, not overwhelming, just… alive.
Y/N stepped inside.
And immediately…
“Y/N!”
Wooyoung.
Of course.
He waved dramatically from across the room like he hadn’t seen her in weeks instead of yesterday.
San leaned back in his chair beside him, grinning. “You’re late.”
“I’m not late,” she replied, slipping her jacket off.
“You’re emotionally late,” Wooyoung said.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does to me.”
“That explains a lot,” Jongho muttered from somewhere nearby.
Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she stepped further into the room.
Her eyes moved naturally, instinctively and landed on them.
Soojin.
Hana.
And Seonghwa.
Hana was sitting comfortably on Seonghwa’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, one arm draped loosely around his shoulder while she talked animatedly to Wooyoung, who was nodding way too enthusiastically at whatever she was saying.
Soojin sat beside them, far calmer, but clearly entertained.
Seonghwa himself looked… completely unbothered.
Like this was normal.
Which, to be fair, It kind of was now.
They weren’t exactly subtle.
Friends with benefits.
Everyone knew.
No one said it out loud.
But everyone knew.
And judging by the way Seonghwa’s hand rested casually at Hanas waist.
They definitely liked each other more than they admitted.
“Look who finally showed up,” Soojin said, spotting her.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “I was not late.”
“You were,” Wooyoung said.
“She wasn’t,” Hana corrected.
“Thank you,” Y/N said.
“You’re welcome.”
“And you’re both wrong,” Wooyoung added.
“No one asked you,” Jongho said.
Y/N barely had time to respond before she felt it.
That familiar shift.
That pull.
She turned.
And there he was.
Yunho.
Standing up from where he had been sitting.
Already walking toward her.
Like she was the only thing he noticed.
The noise around her faded.
Just slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough.
He didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t slow down.
He reached her in seconds and kissed her.
Like it was the most natural greeting in the world.
Y/N smiled against his lips, her hand lifting instinctively to rest lightly against his arm.
When he pulled back, his expression was bright.
Happy.
“Hi,” he said.
She laughed softly. “Hi.”
He didn’t move far.
Didn’t let go completely.
His hand slipped naturally into hers again.
Like it had always been there.
“Missed you,” he added.
“You saw me this morning.”
“I still missed you.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You’re dramatic.”
“I’m honest.”
“That’s debatable.”
He grinned.
Then leaned in again.
Just to press another quick kiss to her cheek.
Because apparently, he couldn’t help himself.
Not that she was complaining.
The rest of the evening passed easily.
Comfortably.
Y/N moved through the room without hesitation now, greeting people, sitting where she wanted, laughing without second guessing it.
Soojin dragged her into a conversation.
Wooyoung tried to include her in something that made absolutely no sense.
San asked her opinion on something and actually listened.
Mingi offered her snacks.
Hana gave her knowing looks every time Yunho got too obvious.
And Yunho stayed close.
Not glued to her.
But never far.
Always there.
Always looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.
Something worth choosing.
Over and over again.
Later that night, when the crowd had thinned and the energy had softened, they left together.
Again.
Like it was routine now.
Like it had always been.
Y/N’s apartment felt warm.
Quiet.
Safe.
She kicked off her boots, stretching slightly as she stepped further inside.
Yunho followed behind her, already moving like he belonged there.
Not in a way that felt intrusive.
Just… natural.
“Sit,” he said gently.
She blinked.
“…what?”
“Sit,” he repeated, nudging her lightly toward the couch.
She narrowed her eyes but did it anyway.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.”
He disappeared briefly.
Then came back with a hot water bottle.
Carefully placing it in her lap.
She stared at it.
Then at him.
“…you made me a hot water bottle?”
“You always get cold,” he said simply.
Her chest warmed.
Again.
“You noticed that?”
He gave her a look.
“Of course I did.”
She smiled.
Soft.
Real.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then sat down beside her.
Close.
Their shoulders brushing lightly.
Takeout containers sat on the table in front of them, half opened, the smell filling the room.
A movie played in the background.
Something neither of them was really paying attention to.
Because he was looking at her.
Again.
She felt it.
Turned slightly.
“What?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Just… looked.
Like he was memorizing something.
“Nothing,” he said quietly.
That made her suspicious.
“That’s not nothing.”
He smiled.
Shook his head slightly.
“I love you.”
The words landed softly.
Y/N stilled.
Her heart skipped.
Then raced.
She stared at him.
Searching his expression.
But there was no hesitation there.
No uncertainty.
Truth. Simple. Clear.
Warm.
Like everything else about him.
Her chest tightened.
In the best way.
And for once she didn’t overthink it.
Didn’t second guess.
Didn’t doubt.
“I love you too.”
The words felt right.
Natural.
Like they had been there for a while.
Just waiting.
Yunho’s expression softened even more.
If that was even possible.
He leaned in.
Kissed her again.
Slow.
Gentle.
And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel like she was standing outside of something.
Looking in.
She was there.
Right in the middle of it.
Exactly where she was supposed to be.
Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Taglist: @ninjakitty15 @dalsuwaha @likeejennie @starmee-lodurrson @luviebears @darjeelinglemontea @ffenjoyerdazme @moonlitcelestial @livonianmaia @m00njinnie @tinycloudz @whoreforjongho @shrimpwoo @soso59love-blog @armycarat2612 @yunhospinkyring @okiedokiespookie @lunaryoongie @firstdivisiongirl @autumnrainsings @meowmeeps @scoutyy @goblin-pop @hope122598 @imbaebi @sunnysidesins
EVERY PRECIOUS SECOND | ATEEZ JEONG YUNHO
"Yeah, but," Yunho's shoulders slump, "it's not the same…I want to be there…"
pairing » ateez jeong yunho x fem!reader
trope/au » idol yunho x celebrity (musician) reader, established relationship au
genre » pure fluff and love
word count » 2029
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » kissing, yunho and reader have busy schedules, not proofread with last minute plot changes
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist
happy yuyu day! his birthday md this year is so cute and i'm so lucky to be able to join a group order for one 🥹
Today is one of the biggest stages of your career. After being announced as the winner at an internationally recognised piano competition, winners from the last decade have all been invited under one roof to perform. Performers were given the chance to bring their friends and family. Your immediate family has been sitting comfortably in the venue for an hour before the concert started. Your mum insisted on coming in earlier for better seats, even though you explained many times that it's reserved ticketed seats. You found out later that it's because she wanted to take lots of photos of her daughter.
Of course, you invited Yunho to the event too. Upon mentioning the event, Yunho's smile fell as he mentioned the clash in his schedule. Your concert falls on the day before his birthday, and also during a tour stop. You spent the whole night celebrating him on call, falling asleep to his light snores from your earphones. By the time the sun rises, you're greeted with a good morning and good luck text for the day. You were about to reply to his text, but decided to press the green call button. He picks up the call with a radiant smile. He's devastated that he wouldn't be there, and you're devastated that you won't be next to him on an annual personal celebration.
"It'll all be recorded, Yuyu."
"Yeah, but," Yunho's shoulders slump, "it's not the same…I want to be there…"
You want him to be there, too. But at the start of this relationship, you both promised that, as much as you're each other's priority, unless it's a dire situation, both of you would put your work first. The stages where you both committed as a career, and where you both have the power to move the audience. The stage is the ground for creativity. The stage that you both aimed for together in high school and brought you both closer together.
There isn't much time left until you both need to go. Your concert is towards the start of the day, whilst ATEEZ's concert is at night. But, due to preparations, Yunho's day basically starts on the same day as yours.
You pout at a staff calling for Yunho at the background. "I'll call you tonight?"
Yunho blows a kiss to you. "As soon as the concert is finished, I'll call you."
You didn't say much to that, because you already had something up your sleeve. You've booked a flight to Malaysia, where ATEEZ is. You wanted to have it as a surprise, having the rest of the members by your side to plan this whole celebration out. With a final kiss to the screen, you got yourself ready to perform, smiling at the packed luggage in your waiting room before heading out.
Your playing went smoothly, your body relaxed, and your fingers skillfully going over the keys with flawless technicality. The audience erupts in claps as soon as your stage is finished, and you join your family in the audience. As soon as the event was finished, you took photos with the rest of the winners from previous years, connecting with those you've admired from the start of your journey. You're the luckiest to be able to have your belongings signed, and even luckier that they wanted to have theirs signed with yours. When the venue starts clearing, you're part of the crowd that rushes to the airport. Your family sends you knowing looks and passes their present for your boyfriend.
"Have a safe flight, and don't make him stay up too late. He's too tired to deal with your energy."
Your dad nods to your mum's teasing, and you playfully roll your eyes before heading off to check in. Waiting to board, you recorded a short voice message to your boyfriend, making sure your surroundings didn't sound like the airport. A final call to a flight almost exposed you, but you managed to send the recording just in time. A second after it's sent, Yunho comes online, hyping and congratulating you. He sends a quick mirror selfie with some makeup artists preparing him for soundcheck happening in a few hours. His contact name flashes on your screen for a video call request, and you run to a white wall as a background.
"Hi," you fix your hair after the rush.
Yunho raises an eyebrow. "You okay? Why do you look like you're running away from something?"
You chuckle, if only he knew you're trying to run to him. "Just stopping by my mum's office to collect something before going out to eat dinner."
"Make sure you get all the good things, love."
"I will." And his phone is snatched away from Wooyoung. "Hi, Woo!"
"Y/N! How was the stage? You need to send videos! We're all waiting." As soon as Wooyoung says the collective term, Mingi and San waves to the camera.
"Yep," San nods. "Definitely waiting." His tone is knowing and you put your index finger to your lips. San winks, throwing a thumbs up.
"Yunho is sulking because you're not here," Mingi's words gets Yunho to fake cry, and the room is full of laughter at the chaotic nature. "Yeah, see?"
You engaged with some small talk with them, as Hongjoong and Seonghwa joins in closely later. Yunho complains about his time with you being taken away as every second is precious admist the busy lives you both lead.
"Calm down! We don't get to talk to her much whenever we see her!" Seonghwa scolds him lightly.
Yunho doesn't know this as the members huddled around his phone as you chatter with them, but some members have their notes apps up, reassuring you that the cake and some light decorations you've ordered have arrived to the waiting room without his knowledge. You nod and give affirmative signs of relief and thankfulness, multi-tasking to engage with the conversation at the same time.
"I have to go," you smile at the members. "Can I see Yunho for a bit?" Yunho reaches for his phone without moving his body. "You look gorgeous," you see his cheeks blush underneath the makeup.
"Huge compliment coming from the gorgeous girl." He does his little nose scrunch, and you can't wait to see it soon in real life.
"I'll get going, but I'll see you soon, okay?" You hold up the promise ring that you turned into a necklace that Yunho gifted you on your anniversary. "I love you, Yunho."
"I love you more. Have a good dinner, okay?"
Yes, you will. A good dinner at a flight that will bring you closer to him.
According to your calculations, you should arrive in Malaysia closer to the end of the concert, but since this tour has send-offs, that give you more time to arrive to the venue, decorate the room and light the candles. Thankfully, the flight wasn't delayed, and you're able to find ATEEZ's manager easily.
"All ready?"
You nod to the manager's question, putting on your hat and mask in the car on the way to the concert venue. You're given the backstage landyard pass, and you're escorted into the waiting room where you greet some of the familiar company staff.
"They're at send-offs right now, and it'll probably only take another thirty minutes." You were informed, and got immediately to work with every second you have left.
The confetti is strung across the only blank wall. The rest of the staff helped with filling the space with balloons, as well as attaching a birthday banner and a silly memeful banner that you made with Jongho's help. The cake from the fridge is as perfect as the picture, and you settle the candles without lighting them yet. Soon, you hear some commotions down the hallway coming closer and louder. There were a pair of footsteps that seemed to rush first, and your eyes widen to a manager that hurriedly went out to check. Unfortunately, they were a bit too late because Yeosang comes in and stood still for a while.
He sees you, does a little clap of realisation and walks out. You hear the manager quickly calling to the members that they should do a quick group photo as a selfie and maybe film a few reels for the future to post. You see the work of the room, the staff cooing and melting at your gesture. One already has your phone, asking you to pose and ready to record you surprising Yunho. After final reassuring thumbs up, you texted Mingi for an 'okay' sign. You quickly light the candles of the cake, smiling to the camera as you hear the boys chattering outside.
"Why are you all pushing me to go first?" Yunho retaliates with obvious laughter. "What do you guys have in here that-"
The confettis pop as soon as Yunho walks in, and even though the noise was louder than most of the staff thought, your boyfriend is frozen as soon as he sees you. He blinks rapidly, hand that was once on the door handle falling to his side. He looks towards the members, hand covering his mouth in shock while they had proud smiles behind their recording phones.
When he turns back around to you, you're already closer to him with a cake written to celebrate his birthday. "I know it's early, but happy birthday."
Yunho settles the cake on a nearby table, and pulls you into his figure. The members squeals and cheers for their favourite couple. Your boyfriend tucks his face to the crook of your neck, holding onto you in disbelief. You happily return the embrace, playing with his hair and presses multiple kisses on his cheek.
"H-How are you here?" He asks breathlessly. He could fall asleep to your light touches, and the way you giggle against the shell of his ear. "You're crazy…"
"About you, yes. I thought that was obvious." Yunho pulls away to properly look at you. The chain around your neck holds his name engraved in the simple ring, and his holds your name on his finger. The sight has his heart beating rapidly. He's so full of love for you, and the way his orbs sparkle at you is enough without words. He cups your cheek, leaning down to capture your lips. He exhales into the familiarity of your love, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. When you pull away, he doesn't let you go completely, wrapping an arm around your waist. You bring the cake again, raising it closer to him. "Make a wish."
If it wasn't you holding the sweet treat, he would've wished that it was you. If it was him talking to you over the phone, he would've wished for your presence next to him. But you're here. You flew to him despite your tight schedule to be with him. You pulled it off successfully, and went above and beyond anything he could've wished for.
He closes his eyes before the candles. I wish that every second of my life would be spent with you, and blew the warmth lightly.
Yunho admires the backdrop you created, making sure you're in every single photo with him. The rest of the members did too, making sure to get multiple angles of you and Yunho in the same pose. When it was time to share the cake, Yunho has you snuggled next to him, resting his head on your shoulder. The staffs and members chatted amongst themselves.
"Thank you for being crazy and being here."
Your laughter is Yunho's favourite sound, and he's lucky to be the one you chose. "I must be crazily in love with you, that's why."
Yunho knows how that feels like, because he feels strongly the same way. His hand intertwines with yours and he kisses the back of your hand. You firmly hold him, turning to face him by your side. Your eyes met with his genuine, sweet and kind gaze. Yunho dips his face closer to you, and your eyelids flutter shut. His nose nudges with yours, pecking your lips before pulling away for another one.
"I love you so much more."
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Little China on 7th || Xu Minghao x Reader
When Minghao stumbles into a tiny Chinese restaurant tucked away in Seoul, he finds comfort in his own language and in the girl behind the counter, who makes it feel like home.
The restaurant almost looked like it was hiding.
Pressed between a neon-lit convenience store and a polished café with floor-to-ceiling windows, the sign above it was small. Red paint, slightly chipped. Gold lettering that had faded just enough to feel real.
Minghao paused on the sidewalk.
He had walked past it twice before.
He didn’t know why he stopped today.
Maybe he was tired of the polished places. Tired of cameras, mirrors, curated spaces. Tired of hearing Korean and Japanese and English all day but not enough Mandarin.
He pushed the door open.
A small bell chimed.
The smell hit first. Real stir-fry heat. Garlic blooming in oil. Vinegar sharp and clean. Chili that actually meant something.
And then—
"Welcome."
He froze.
Mandarin. Soft. Natural. Not forced.
He stepped fully inside, letting the door close behind him.
It felt smaller than it looked from outside. Four tables. Laminated menus. Old fan in the corner. A wall calendar from Guangzhou.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed that.
"Just one?" you asked again.
He looked up.
And that was when he saw you.
Behind the counter. Hair loosely tied back. No heavy makeup. Just you. Comfortable in your own space. Like you belonged here.
“Yes,” he answered automatically. Then corrected himself in Mandarin. "Yes. Just one."
Your eyes lifted properly then. Noticing him.
There was a flicker of recognition. Not idol recognition. Not yet.
Just curiosity.
You handed him a menu. "First time here?"
He nodded. "Just found this place."
You smiled a little. "Most people don’t."
That felt important.
He chose a seat by the window. The laminated menu felt familiar under his fingers. Mapo tofu. Liangpi. Tomato egg stir fry.
Not fusion. Not toned down.
When you brought his tea, you set it down gently.
"Our food is kind of spicy," you warned.
He almost laughed. "I can handle spice."
You raised a brow. "Really?"
He met your eyes. "Really."
It was such a small exchange. But something about it settled into his chest.
The food came out quickly.
He took one bite.
And he had to stop himself from closing his eyes.
It tasted like somewhere he hadn’t been in too long.
When he went up to pay, he tried to keep his expression neutral.
"It was really good," he said quietly.
You looked pleased. "Thank you."
There was a pause.
You glanced at him more carefully this time.
"Are you a celebrity?"
He blinked.
Of course.
He gave a small smile. "Kind of."
You nodded slowly. No squealing. No phone. No sudden shift in behavior.
"That must be tiring," you said simply, handing him his receipt.
That was it.
He stepped back outside into the Seoul evening and felt something strange in his chest.
Relief.
===
He came back three days later.
Not on purpose.
He just ended up there.
The bell chimed again.
You looked up and this time your eyes warmed immediately.
"You’re back?"
He shrugged lightly. "Wanted something spicy."
"Excuse," you said without missing a beat.
He almost choked on air.
The restaurant wasn’t busy that afternoon. Just one older couple in the corner. The owner cooking behind the half wall.
When you brought his food, you lingered.
"Where in China are you from?" you asked.
"Liaoning," he answered.
Your eyes widened slightly. "Oh, a northerner."
"And you?" he asked.
You tilted your head. "Guess."
He studied you, amused. "Guangdong?"
You shook your head.
"Shanghai?"
Another shake.
"Then I give up."
You leaned closer slightly. "Wrong."
You still didn’t tell him.
He realized you liked holding onto little secrets.
He liked that.
===
After that, it became a habit.
Not every day. Not enough to draw attention. Just when he needed it.
When schedules were too loud.
When fansigns felt like smiling through glass.
When the dorm felt crowded.
The bell would chime. You would look up.
"Long day?" you’d ask.
"A little," he’d admit.
You’d refill his tea without asking.
Sometimes you’d sit across from him if the shop was empty.
"There are really seventeen of you?" you asked once.
"Thirteen."
You blinked. "That’s a lot."
"It is."
"How do you sneak out?"
He smirked faintly. "I say I’m getting coffee."
You laughed properly that time. Bright and quick.
He found himself waiting for it every visit.
===
It didn’t take long before the others noticed.
Joshua leaned against the fridge one night. “You’ve been disappearing.”
Minghao didn’t look up from his tea, swirling it just enough to not splash on Jun's kitchen table. “I go out.”
Jun added from the couch, eyes bright. “But you come back smiling.”
Minghao paused. “Do I?”
Seungkwan narrowed his eyes dramatically from his perch on the counter. “Who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
Wonwoo looked up from his book. “So it is a she.”
Minghao clicked his tongue. “You’re all bored.”
“Is she pretty?” Hoshi demanded.
He hesitated.
Yes.
But not in a way he wanted to share.
He shrugged instead. “She works hard.”
Jun switched to Mandarin suddenly. "Do you like her?"
Minghao met his gaze.
"I don’t know."
That wasn’t entirely true.
He just didn’t want to define it yet.
Because once he did, it would become real. Public. Shared.
And that little restaurant, those small conversations, would stop being just his.
He wasn’t ready for that.
===
One evening, it was raining.
Hard.
He almost didn’t go.
But his feet carried him there anyway.
The restaurant was nearly empty. The windows fogged. The air warm.
You looked up when he entered, hair slightly damp.
"It’s raining," you said unnecessarily.
"I noticed," he replied.
You poured his tea before he even sat down.
He watched you for a long moment.
"Why did you open this place?" he asked suddenly.
You paused.
"It’s not mine. It’s my family’s. I just help."
He nodded.
"Are you happy?" you asked.
The question caught him off guard.
He considered lying.
Instead, he answered honestly.
"Sometimes."
You nodded like that made sense.
Rain tapped softly against the glass.
"Will you go back to China one day?" you asked quietly.
"Maybe."
"And here?"
He didn’t answer immediately.
“I don’t know,” he said finally.
You studied him for a moment.
Then you smiled gently. "Then for now, just eat."
He laughed under his breath.
===
Weeks passed.
The others kept asking.
He kept deflecting.
He didn’t bring anyone there.
Not Jun. Not Joshua.
It felt selfish.
But he needed one place that wasn’t shared.
One place where he wasn’t Seventeen’s Minghao.
Just Xu Minghao ordering too much chili oil.
One afternoon, when the shop was closing early, he stayed longer than usual.
You were wiping down tables.
"Are you coming tomorrow?" you asked casually.
He hesitated.
“We have a schedule.”
You nodded, not pushing.
He stood slowly.
"Will you always be here?" he asked instead.
You met his eyes.
"For now."
There it was again. That careful vagueness.
He realized something then.
You never asked for his number.
Never asked for pictures.
Never asked for promises.
You let him come and go like he was just another customer.
And somehow that meant more than if you hadn’t.
He stepped closer to the counter.
"What if one day I stop coming?"
You tilted your head.
"Then it means you don’t need this place anymore."
It wasn’t bitter.
It wasn’t sad.
It was just true.
He swallowed.
"And what if I still need it?"
You held his gaze.
"Then the door will stay open."
The bell above the door chimed softly as someone stepped in behind him.
The moment thinned.
He stepped back.
“I’ll see you,” he said instead of goodbye.
You smiled faintly.
"Mm."
===
That night, at practice, Dino squinted at him.
“You went to your mystery place again.”
Minghao didn’t deny it.
Vernon grinned. “Are you ever going to tell us?”
He thought about the chipped red sign.
The foggy windows.
Your soft "Welcome" every time the bell chimed.
He shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Jun smirked knowingly but didn’t press.
Minghao lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling.
Maybe one day he would bring the others.
Maybe one day he would ask where you were really from.
Maybe one day he would stop pretending this was temporary.
But not yet.
For now, that little hole in the wall was still his small piece of China.
And inside it—
You were waiting behind the counter.
Door bell ready to chime.
Happy ending?
Maybe.
Or maybe just another day where he walks in, and you say—
"You’re back?"
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@atetheluck @imbaebi @wanna-plan-world-domination
Soft Place to Land || Mingi x Black!Reader
a quiet night in your shared apartment turns into soft kisses, clingy mingi, and cuddling on the couch while you watch singles’ inferno together.
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The apartment smells like garlic, butter, and something faintly sweet from the candle burning near the sink. The kitchen lights are warm, casting a honey glow over everything. Terracotta planters line the windowsill, trailing pothos and ivy spilling down beside patterned curtains in deep rust and gold. The backsplash tiles are hand painted, tiny geometric patterns in black and cream that remind you of home.
You’re standing at the stove in one of Mingi’s oversized shirts, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the pot slowly. Your curls are wrapped up in a satin scarf, edges laid, gold hoops catching the light every time you move.
Arms slide around your waist from behind.
“Smells good,” Mingi mumbles, voice still thick from his nap.
“You just woke up and you’re already attached to me,” you say, but you lean back into him anyway.
He presses his face into your shoulder, breathing you in like that’s the most important thing he has to do tonight. “I missed you.”
“You were asleep for forty minutes.”
“Still counts.”
You laugh softly, turning your head just enough for him to steal a kiss from your cheek. Then another. And another. He trails them down to your jaw, slow and lazy, like he has nowhere else to be.
The apartment reflects the both of you. A low wooden dining table sits near the living room, surrounded by floor cushions in burnt orange and sage. Framed art pieces hang on the walls, bold abstract portraits of Black women in gold crowns, textured canvases with raised paint. There’s a woven basket in the corner filled with throw blankets, a record player on a shelf beneath a large mirror with a carved dark wood frame.
It feels lived in. Warm. Yours.
Mingi squeezes your waist tighter. “You’ve been in here forever.”
“Cooking takes time,” you tell him. “Unlike someone who just hovers.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m supporting.”
“You’re heavy.”
He gasps dramatically and turns you in his arms so you’re facing him. His hair is messy, eyes soft, hoodie slightly wrinkled. He looks younger like this. Gentler.
“You love when I’m heavy,” he says, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips.
You hum against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric at his sides. The kiss deepens just a little before you pull back, brushing your nose against his.
“Go set the table,” you murmur.
He doesn’t move.
“Mingi.”
“I am setting the table. Emotionally.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. He finally lets go, though not without stealing one more kiss, quick and firm.
Dinner is simple. Pasta, roasted vegetables, warm bread. You eat cross legged at the low table, knees touching. He keeps reaching over to tuck loose strands of hair back from your face, to brush his thumb over your cheek, to feed you bites even though you’re fully capable of feeding yourself.
“You’re clingy today,” you observe.
“Today?” He grins. “I’m always clingy.”
He’s right. He’s always reaching for you. Always touching your thigh, your waist, your hand. Always finding some excuse to pull you into his lap even though he’s the one who ends up folded awkwardly around you on the couch later.
After dinner, you clean up together. He dries while you wash. Music plays softly from the speaker, some old R&B playlist you put together weeks ago. He sways behind you, hips bumping into yours on purpose.
“Stop,” you say, even though you’re laughing.
“Dance with me.”
“There’s soap everywhere.”
He ignores that, grabbing your hands and spinning you carefully away from the sink. You squeal when water droplets flick off your fingers onto his hoodie.
He pulls you in close, one hand at the small of your back, the other holding yours up between you. You rest your chin against his chest. He smells like detergent and sleep and something warm that’s just him.
“You’re my favorite person,” he says quietly.
You look up at him. “You’re dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
His expression softens, thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “This. Coming home to you. Cooking together. It’s everything.”
Your chest tightens in the best way. You lean up and kiss him, slow and unhurried. The kind of kiss that lingers, that says more than words. His hands slide up your back, holding you close like he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his grip.
You don’t.
Later, you’re curled together on the couch. A thick woven throw blanket is draped over both of you, your legs tangled. The living room lights are dimmed, just the soft glow of a floor lamp with a patterned shade casting warm shapes across the walls.
The coffee table holds two mugs of tea and a half eaten bowl of popcorn.
“Okay, start it,” you say, nudging him.
He grabs the remote, pulling you closer with his other arm. “You’re too far.”
“I’m literally on top of you.”
“Not close enough.”
You shake your head but settle into him anyway, your cheek pressed against his chest. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm while the familiar intro of Single's Inferno plays on the screen.
He groans when one of the contestants starts flirting immediately. “He’s doing too much.”
“You’d be worse,” you tease.
“Never. I’d just sit there and wait for you.”
“That’s not how the show works.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d find you.”
You glance up at him. “You’re so cheesy.”
“And you love it.”
You do.
Halfway through the episode, he shifts so you’re practically lying across his chest. His hand moves up to gently scratch at your scalp through the scarf, careful, affectionate. You melt instantly.
“Mingi,” you murmur.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t stop.”
He smiles against your hair and keeps going, fingers slow and soothing. His other hand rubs small circles against your back. Every few minutes he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. Your temple. The tip of your nose.
By the time the episode ends, you’re barely paying attention to the screen. You’re focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him wrapped around you, the quiet comfort of being exactly where you belong.
“Stay like this,” he whispers.
“We live together. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Still.”
You tilt your head up just enough to kiss him again, soft and lingering.
The TV continues playing in the background, but neither of you move to start the next episode.
You’re already exactly where you want to be.
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Wrong Number, Right Person || Changbin x GN!Reader
A “mistaken” number from Lee Chan was supposed to lead you to Mingyu, but instead it lands you in Seo Changbin’s messages. He fell first. You fall harder. What starts as confusion turns into a crush years in the making finally being returned.
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Chan insists it was an accident.
You do not believe him.
You were expecting Kim Mingyu’s number.
Instead, the contact labeled “Mingyu :)” replies almost immediately.
You: hey, chan said you’d send me that producer rec? Mingyu :) : producer rec? i think you’ve got the wrong guy
You frown at your phone.
You: wait. is this not mingyu? Not Mingyu: unless mingyu shrank about 10 cm Not Mingyu: seo changbin here
You sit up straight.
Seo Changbin. From Stray Kids.
You’ve crossed paths dozens of times. Music shows. Award ceremonies. End of year festivals. Always polite bows. Always brief smiles.
You: oh my god. Dino gave me this number. i asked for mingyu’s Changbin: yeah i figured Changbin: he texted me earlier actually
You blink.
You: he what Changbin: said he might “accidentally improve my love life” today Changbin: i didn’t know what he meant until now
Your mouth falls open.
You: he did not Changbin: he absolutely did
You immediately open your other chat.
You: lee chan. Dinosaur: :) You: you sent me the wrong number on purpose Dinosaur: i sent you a better one
You groan and toss your phone onto the couch before picking it back up.
You: i’m so sorry. that’s actually insane behavior Changbin: it’s fine Changbin: i’m honored to be the upgraded option
You laugh despite yourself.
You: bold Changbin: i’ve been told
There’s a pause.
You could end it there. Apologize again. Ask for Mingyu’s actual contact.
Instead:
You: well since you’re here. do you actually know any producers good with live band elements? Changbin: depends. what kind of sound You: softer. warmer. less performance heavy.
Another pause. Then:
Changbin: i could help Changbin: if you want
You smile slowly at your screen.
You: modest of you Changbin: don’t expose me like that Changbin: yes i produce. a lot.
The conversation shifts easily after that.
You talk about chord progressions you’re tired of hearing. About layering vocals at 3 a.m. when everything feels more honest. About how exhausting it is to promote and create at the same time.
He’s thoughtful. Funnier than you expected. Blunt in a way that feels grounding.
At some point, you forget you were ever asking for Mingyu.
Across town, Changbin is staring at his phone like it might disappear.
He has liked you for years.
Not loudly. Not recklessly.
Just quietly.
The first time was at an award show rehearsal. You were sitting on the edge of the stage, legs swinging, arguing passionately about arrangement changes with your producer. No cameras. No performance face. Just you.
He noticed.
He always notices.
He never planned to do anything about it.
And now you’re texting him first.
Even if it was engineered by that little dinosaur of yours.
Two days later:
You: have you seen that new cafe near the sm building Changbin: the industrial one with the cube croissants You: YES You: i want to go but i refuse to look like i’m scouting for a dating show alone
He stares at the message for a full ten seconds before replying.
Changbin: we could go together Changbin: strictly for research
Your stomach flips.
You: obviously. professional croissant analysis only.
When you see him outside the cafe, hoodie and cap pulled low, you almost miss him.
He looks up.
Recognizes you instantly.
His eyes crinkle before the rest of his face does.
“Hey,” he says once you’re seated inside.
Up close, he feels different than he does on stage.
Softer around the edges. Warmer. His presence is steady instead of explosive.
“Sorry again about the number thing,” you say.
He shakes his head. “Best mistake that’s happened to me in a while.”
Your pulse stutters.
You talk easily. Like you’ve done this before.
He congratulates you on your last comeback and mentions a harmony switch in the second chorus of your b side.
“You noticed that?” you ask, surprised.
He shrugs, almost shy. “You stacked it differently the second time.”
You stare at him.
“You really listen,” you say.
He looks away first. “Of course I do.”
Something about the way he says it makes your chest tighten.
You watch him as he talks. The way his hands move when he explains production choices. The way he automatically grabs both trays without asking. The way he brushes powdered sugar off your sleeve before freezing like he overstepped.
“You’re cuter than people think,” you say without thinking.
He chokes on his coffee. “Cuter?”
“Yeah. You act tough. It’s fake.”
His ears turn red.
You feel it then.
The shift.
You fall harder.
Not in one dramatic moment. But in a series of small ones.
After that, you start texting him on purpose.
Good morning messages. Late night check ins when you know he’s still at the studio. Voice notes about random melody ideas.
You linger near his group’s waiting room at music shows just a little longer than necessary.
He pretends not to notice.
He notices everything.
One evening, after another shared schedule near the SM building, you text:
You: free Changbin: for you maybe
You grin at your phone.
You: confident Changbin: only sometimes
You meet again at the same cafe.
This time, it feels intentional.
You rest your chin in your hand as he talks about a track he scrapped because it did not feel honest enough.
“Can I ask you something,” you interrupt softly.
He nods.
“Have you ever liked someone in the industry.”
He goes still.
“Why.”
“Just curious.”
He hesitates.
“There was someone,” he admits quietly.
Your heart dips before you can stop it. “Oh.”
“For a long time.”
You force your expression neutral. “What happened.”
He looks directly at you.
“I didn’t think they would ever see me that way.”
Your breath catches.
“You don’t know that,” you say carefully.
He gives a small smile. “I do.”
You sit back, studying him.
Then you make a decision.
You slide your hand across the table. Close enough that your fingers almost touch his.
“What if,” you say softly, “they were just slow.”
He blinks.
“What if they meet you properly,” you continue, “and then they can’t stop thinking about you.”
Silence.
His gaze drops to your hand. Then back to your face.
“You’re very confident,” he says, voice lower now.
“Only when I want something.”
“And what do you want.”
You do not look away.
“You.”
The word hangs between you.
His composure cracks. A slow, disbelieving smile spreads across his face.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
He runs a hand through his hair, flustered. “You don’t even know me that well.”
“I know enough,” you say. “I know you listen closely. I know you care about details no one else hears. I know you get shy when complimented. I know you’ve been kind to me from the start.”
You lean forward slightly.
“And I know I’d like to keep seeing you. On purpose this time.”
He exhales like he has been holding it for years.
“I liked you first,” he admits.
Your eyebrows lift. “Oh.”
“For years.”
You stare at him. “Years.”
He nods, embarrassed but smiling.
A laugh bubbles out of you, half shocked, half delighted.
“Well,” you say lightly, finally letting your fingers lace with his, “I fell harder.”
His hand tightens around yours instinctively, like it belongs there.
“So what now,” he asks.
You shrug. “We keep getting coffee. We write together. We see what happens.”
He nods slowly.
“Okay,” he says.
No dramatic announcement. No promises carved in stone.
Just two idols sitting in a quiet cafe near a familiar building.
Hands intertwined.
Smiling like they both just won something they did not expect.
And this time, it was not a mistake at all.
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Choose You, Always
Felix hadn’t planned on buying anything that day.
He was supposed to be “just looking.”
That was what he told Hyunjin, at least.
The two of them wandered through a quiet shopping street in Seoul, tucked away from the busier tourist areas. The air was crisp, late afternoon sunlight reflecting softly off glass storefronts. Hyunjin walked a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, occasionally stopping to admire clothes he absolutely did not need.
Felix, however, had fallen behind.
His attention had been captured by a small jewelry shop.
It was warm inside—soft lighting, pale wood shelves, and glass cases filled with delicate rings and necklaces.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing loud.
Just… meaningful.
“Hyunjin,” Felix called softly, not even realizing he’d stopped walking.
Hyunjin turned, then followed Felix’s gaze.
“Oh,” he said knowingly, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Danger zone.”
Felix ignored him and stepped inside.
The bell chimed gently above the door.
Almost immediately, his eyes landed on them.
Two rings.
Simple.
Silver.
Thin bands with the tiniest engraving along the outside—nothing ornate, just elegant and understated.
When the shop owner noticed Felix staring, she smiled and opened the case.
“These are couple rings,” she explained kindly. “Very popular.”
Felix felt his chest tighten.
Couple rings.
His fingers hovered above the glass as if touching them might make the feeling too real. His mind instantly filled with Ruby—her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how she always listened so intently when he talked, like every word mattered.
Hyunjin leaned in beside him. “You’re thinking about her,” he said, sing-song.
Felix nodded, cheeks warming. “I just… I think she’d like something simple. Something that means something.”
The shop owner placed the rings on a velvet tray. “These are worn as a promise,” she added. “Not an engagement. Just a way to say, ‘I choose you.’”
That did it.
Felix swallowed hard.
“I’ll take them,” he said softly.
Hyunjin’s teasing expression softened into something fond as Felix tried one ring on, then slipped the matching one into the small box.
It felt… right. Like he’d just made a quiet promise to himself.
On the walk back, Felix held the bag carefully, as if it were something fragile and sacred.
“So,” Hyunjin said casually. “When are you giving it to her?”
Felix smiled to himself.
“Tomorrow.”
—
The next evening, Ruby had no idea what Felix had planned.
All she knew was that he’d asked her to keep the night free and told her to dress comfortably—but nicely—which immediately made her suspicious.
When she arrived, she found a private rooftop space glowing with soft fairy lights. A small table was set for two, candles flickering gently in the evening breeze. The city stretched out below them, lights twinkling like stars.
Felix stood up the moment he saw her.
For a second, he just stared.
Ruby looked beautiful—effortlessly so. Her hair framed her face perfectly, and she wore a soft smile that instantly made his heart race.
“Hi,” she said shyly.
“Hi,” Felix replied, voice warm and a little nervous.
Dinner was quiet in the best way. Not awkward—just intimate.
They talked about everything and nothing. Laughed. Shared bites of dessert. Felix reached across the table more than once just to hold her hand, grounding himself.
But as the night deepened, Ruby noticed something.
Felix was fidgeting.
After dessert, he stood up and took a breath. “Ruby… can we sit over there for a second?”
She nodded, curiosity blooming.
They moved to a small couch lined with cushions. Felix sat close—so close their shoulders touched. He turned toward her, suddenly serious, eyes soft but full of emotion.
“There’s something I want to give you,” he said.
Ruby’s heart skipped. “Okay…”
Felix reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.
Her breath caught.
He opened it slowly, revealing the ring inside.
“It’s not—” he rushed to say, then stopped, chuckling nervously. “It’s not what your brain might be jumping to. It’s a couple ring.”
Ruby blinked. “A couple… ring?”
He nodded, lifting it carefully.
“In Korea, couples wear matching rings to show they belong to each other. It’s not about marriage—it’s about intention. About choosing someone every day.”
He swallowed, voice growing softer.
“It’s a way of saying, ‘I’m serious about you.’”
Ruby’s eyes shimmered.
Felix continued, brushing his thumb over the ring. “I saw it and immediately thought of you. I wanted something that wasn’t loud, but meaningful. Something just for us.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Felix…” she whispered, overwhelmed.
“I don’t expect anything,” he added quickly. “I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”
Ruby didn’t say anything.
Instead, she reached out, fingers trembling slightly.
“Can you put it on me?” she asked.
Felix’s breath hitched.
He carefully slid the ring onto her finger—it fit perfectly.
The moment it settled, Ruby let out a shaky laugh, tears spilling freely now.
“I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me,” she admitted softly. “It’s so thoughtful. So… you.”
Felix smiled, eyes glossy. “Yeah?”
She nodded, then took the other ring from the box.
“Your turn.”
When she slipped it onto his finger, something shifted between them—quiet, steady, real.
Ruby leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll treasure this. Always.”
Felix kissed the top of her head, holding her close.
“I choose you,” he murmured.
And under the soft glow of city lights, wearing matching rings that held a promise only they fully understood, it felt like the most perfect beginning of something lasting.
The next day, Felix was not being subtle.
He sat in the studio chair, legs bouncing, absently spinning the silver ring around his finger while listening to playback.
Every few seconds, his eyes drifted down to his hand, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
Han noticed immediately.
He always did.
Han squinted from across the room, slowly rolling his chair closer like a detective in a crime drama.
“Felix,” he said carefully. “Why do you look like someone just confessed their love to you in a K-drama… and you said yes?”
Felix stiffened. “I don’t.”
Han leaned in closer. “…Is that a ring?”
Felix tried to casually tuck his hand under his thigh.
“No,” he said too quickly.
Han gasped so loudly Changbin yelled, “WHY are you screaming?!”
“GUYS,” Han shouted, ignoring him. “FELIX HAS A RING!”
Felix groaned. “Han—please—”
Han grabbed Felix’s wrist with zero shame and lifted it up like he’d just uncovered national news. “A COUPLE RING! THIS IS A COUPLE RING!”
Felix’s ears turned bright red. “…It’s not a big deal.”
Han clutched his chest. “Not a big deal? You bought a Korean couple ring for RUBY. This man,” he announced loudly to absolutely no one, “is in LOVE.”
Felix’s ears burned red. “Stop.”
“Oh, I will not,” Han said, grinning. “So? Did she cry?”
Felix hesitated.
Then nodded.
Han squealed.
Actually squealed.
“I knew it!” he said triumphantly. “You planned a romantic dinner, didn’t you? Candles. Soft lighting. Probably city view.”
Felix stared at him. “…How do you know all this?”
Han shrugged. “I know you.”
Before Felix could respond, the door opened.
Ruby walked in.
Felix stood immediately, like his body had a mind of its own. “Hey.”
She smiled softly at him, then waved at Han. “Hi.”
Han’s eyes dropped straight to her hand.
He froze.
Then he let out the most dramatic gasp of his life.
“NO WAY.”
Ruby jumped.
Felix nearly dropped his phone.
Ruby blinked. “What?”
Han rushed over, pointing at her hand like he’d just spotted a shooting star. “THE MATCHING RING! YOU’RE WEARING IT! YOU’RE WEARING THE RING!” And he gently but dramatically grabbed Ruby’s hand. “Let me see. Let me SEE.”
Ruby laughed, a little shy. “Felix gave it to me yesterday.”
Han screamed again. “I KNEW IT.”
Felix muttered, “Why are you like this?”
Han turned to Ruby, deadly serious. “Do you understand how LONG I have waited for this moment?”
Ruby giggled. “Apparently longer than I realized.”
Han placed a hand over his heart. “Ruby. I am your biggest supporter. I have been shipping Luby—no, wait—Rulix—” Felix sighed. “—okay fine, Feluby,” Han continued confidently, “since DAY ONE.”
Felix blinked. “You made that ship name up just now.”
“AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL,” Han shot back.
Ruby laughed so hard she leaned into Felix’s shoulder. Felix wrapped an arm around her automatically, thumb brushing gently against her arm.
Han pointed at them. “LOOK AT THIS. MATCHING RINGS. MATCHING VIBES. EMOTIONAL SUPPORT COUPLE.”
Felix shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re impossible.”
Han grinned, eyes softening. “Yeah, but I’m right.”
He looked at Ruby again, sincerity cutting through the teasing.
“Seriously though—Felix is happiest when he’s with you. I can see it.”
Ruby’s expression softened.
She squeezed Felix’s hand.
“I feel the same.”
Han sniffed dramatically. “Great. Now I’m emotional.”
Changbin groaned from across the room. “Can we practice now?!”
Han ignored him completely.
He threw an arm around Felix’s shoulders, pulling him into a half hug.
“I’m your biggest supporter,” he said proudly. “Captain of the Felix x Ruby ship. I’ll defend this relationship with my life.”
Felix laughed, warmth flooding his chest. “…Thanks, Han.”
“Ruby, do you understand what this means?” said Han, still admiring the couple rings.
She smiled softly, glancing at Felix. “That he chooses me.”
Han pointed at Felix. “YOU. You did well.”
Felix ducked his head, smiling.
Han leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “So when’s the wedding?”
“HAN,” Felix and Ruby said in unison.
Han laughed, holding his hands up. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding... For now.”
Then he smirked. “But just so you know—I expect to be best man.”
Ruby laughed, leaning into Felix’s side. “Deal.”
Felix slipped an arm around her shoulders, thumb brushing gently over her arm.
Han watched the two of them for a moment, his teasing expression softening into something genuine.
“…You really are good together,” he said quietly.
Felix smiled, looking down at Ruby. “I know.”
Ruby smiled, glancing at their matching rings as they caught the light together.
And somehow, with Han loudly declaring himself their number one fan, the promise those rings represented felt even stronger.
My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission.
taglist: @imbaebi @ashunicornlover @blackoutbitch
his gf is oomf? - part 2
pairing: kim seungmin x f!reader
summary: stays always talk about how chan could discreetly be their oomf on twitter, but they never stop to think that a member’s secret girlfriend could also be their oomf
warnings: crash out/thirst tweets, name calling (affectionate), curse words, slightly suggestive
photo count: 23
part one ʚɞ part three
⊹₊˚‧︵‿ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ‿︵‧˚₊⊹
a/n: tysm for all the love on part 1 and i hope you guys find part 2 fun and silly as well! i had a lot of fun making this and couldn’t wait to post it haha ty for reading!!
skz permanent taglist: @velvetmoonlght @hlanalovelee @enhacolor @vxyselectric @vernorica123 @chimmyn0chu @jisuperboard @bluejaysgonerogue @itsraininghyunebuckets @alondra6011 @synapsesretrogenesis @ayedomino008 @sellomaybe @skrach84 @yourqueenlady @chuahuahua @beppybeesnuggets @subby-men-forever @kpopgirliez @burntbang @charredchae @0899hwaa @mandmilovehim @geni-627 @alondra6011 @astrayapple @leeknowseverything1 @karlee10261990 @chandlxa @skzbiasot8 @imnotsupposedtobedoingthis @elqk @bbokarisblog @yawwni @emmalabo @gadriezmannsgirl
In every crowd, it’s you || Jungwon x Black!reader
Jungwon knows that no stage, no practice room, and no spotlight feels complete unless the woman he loves is somewhere in it.
He still wakes up before you.
Not because he has to. Not because he’s especially disciplined at home. It’s just that he likes watching you sleep.
The early light spills across your skin, warm against the deep brown of your shoulders, and Jungwon swears it looks like honey. He reaches out, brushes his fingers over your collarbone, then up to your cheek. You hum, barely awake, and instinctively turn into him.
He smiles.
Living together had been terrifying at first. Schedules, cameras, expectations. But the apartment feels like something they built with their hands. Your silk scarves draped over the back of chairs. His hoodies mysteriously disappearing into your side of the closet. The faint scent of your shea butter in the air.
He leans down and presses a slow kiss to your shoulder. Then another. Then another until you finally crack one eye open.
“Won,” you mumble.
“I’m just checking,” he says softly. “Making sure you’re real.”
You roll onto your back and pull him down with you, wrapping your arms around his neck. He goes easily. Always does. He likes when you guide him. Likes when your hands claim him first.
He kisses you properly then. Not rushed. Not shy. His palms spread over your waist, thumbs brushing the curve of your hips like he needs to memorize them again. He loves kissing you in the morning because your lips are soft and warm and it feels like starting the day already winning.
“You have practice,” you remind him against his mouth.
“I know.” He kisses you again anyway.
He always says he’s not clingy. The members would laugh at that.
The first time you showed up to practice unannounced, he almost combusted.
You had texted him earlier that you were out running errands, nothing suspicious. He was halfway through a run-through when the door cracked open. Jay glanced toward it first.
“Oh,” Jay grinned. “Look who it is.”
Jungwon turned.
And there you were. In joggers and a cropped sweater, curls pulled back with a satin scarf, holding a bag in one hand and a water bottle in the other.
You waved, shy but proud.
He forgot the choreography entirely.
“Hyung,” he muttered, already moving.
He crossed the room before you could step fully inside, wrapping an arm around your waist like he was afraid someone might steal you. You laughed into his chest.
“You forgot your lunch,” you said. “And your in-ears.”
He blinked. “I did?”
“Yes, leader-nim.”
The teasing smile on your face made his ears burn.
He leaned down and kissed you without thinking. Not quick. Not subtle. Just a soft, lingering press that made Heeseung let out an exaggerated groan from across the room.
“We’re still here,” Heeseung complained.
Jungwon pulled back but didn’t let go of you. His hand stayed at your waist. He brushed his thumb over the small of your back, grounding himself.
“You came all the way here?” he asked quietly.
“Of course I did.”
He looked at you like you’d just handed him the world.
He always loves the way your skin glows under the fluorescent lights, the way your presence shifts the room without you trying. He doesn’t just think you’re beautiful. He feels it in his chest. The richness of your complexion. The way your curls frame your face. The confidence in how you stand.
He loves that you don’t shrink.
When he introduces you to staff, he stands a little taller. Like he’s proud of being seen next to you.
He shouldn’t get jealous. He knows that.
But he does.
It happens one afternoon when you visit during a break and end up sitting with the members while he’s stuck reviewing something with the choreographer.
He glances over from across the room and sees Sunghoon handing you his jacket because you said you were cold.
Then Jake offers you his drink.
Then Sunoo is fixing a strand of your hair, fussing over you like you’re porcelain.
And Heeseung is laughing at something you said, leaning a little too close.
Jungwon’s jaw tightens.
Jay notices first. “You look like you’re about to start a fight.”
“I’m not,” Jungwon mutters.
“You are.”
By the time he’s done, he walks straight over and slides in behind you. His arms wrap around your shoulders, chin resting on top of your head.
“You’re cold?” he asks.
You tilt your face up. “A little.”
He gently removes Sunghoon’s jacket and replaces it with his own hoodie, pulling it over your head himself. He smooths it down your arms, tugging the sleeves over your hands.
“There,” he says.
The members exchange knowing looks.
You smile at him, soft and understanding. “Jealous?”
He presses his lips to your temple. “No.”
You turn in his arms, your palms resting on his chest. “You know they’re just being nice.”
“I know.” He sighs, then leans down to whisper against your mouth. “But I like taking care of you.”
His jealousy isn’t angry. It’s possessive in a quiet way. He just wants to be the one your body leans into. The one you instinctively reach for.
And you do.
Always.
The tour stop in Los Angeles changes something in him.
He knew you’d be there. You told him weeks ago. Still, nothing prepared him for seeing you.
The arena lights sweep across the crowd, thousands of faces blurring together. He’s halfway through the ment when he spots you.
Front section. Lightstick in one hand. His banner in the other.
You’re screaming his name, eyes shining, curls bouncing as you jump. And he just—
Stops.
The camera catches it immediately. The big screen behind him flashes his face. His expression shifts from performer to something softer. Vulnerable.
He brings the mic down.
“There’s someone really important to me here tonight,” he says, voice trembling slightly.
The crowd roars.
He finds you again. You’re covering your mouth now, already emotional.
He doesn’t say more than that. He doesn’t have to.
The camera zooms in on him as his eyes gloss over. He laughs breathlessly, embarrassed, wiping under his eye.
“Don’t cry,” Jake teases from behind him.
“I’m not,” Jungwon insists, though his voice cracks.
You’re crying too now. Smiling through it.
He presses a hand to his chest and bows slightly toward your section. A silent I see you. A silent thank you.
After the show, when he finally gets backstage and you run into his arms, he lifts you clean off the ground.
“You saw me?” you ask.
“How could I not?” he breathes.
He kisses you like he’s been holding it in for hours. His hands slide down your back, gripping you close, like he’s afraid the world might take you if he loosens his hold.
“You looked so beautiful,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t focus.”
You laugh against his mouth. “You’re supposed to focus.”
“I was,” he says. “On you.”
At home, it’s softer.
Quieter.
He loves sitting behind you on the couch, legs on either side of yours, arms wrapped around your middle while you scroll on your phone. His face buried in your shoulder. His lips brushing absent kisses along your neck.
He loves how your skin feels under his palms. The warmth. The softness. The contrast between his fingers and you. Sometimes he just traces patterns absentmindedly, like he’s studying art.
“You’re staring,” you say once.
“Yeah.”
“At what?”
“You.”
You roll your eyes but smile anyway.
He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your lips. Again and again, because he genuinely cannot stop. Physical affection is how he breathes with you. If he could, he’d stay touching you at all times. Hand in your back pocket. Fingers intertwined. Forehead resting against yours.
He loves the way your laugh fills the apartment. Loves when you wrap your arms around him from behind while he’s cooking. Loves when you sit in his lap like it’s the most natural seat in the house.
He loves you as you are.
Not in spite of anything. Not as an exception.
He loves the way you move through the world as a Black woman with pride. The way you protect your curls at night. The way you talk about your culture with fire in your voice. The way your skin glows in the sun. The way you exist unapologetically.
He doesn’t just admire it. He honors it.
When he kisses you, it isn’t timid. It’s reverent. Grateful.
One night, as you’re half-asleep against his chest, he whispers into your hair, “I’m so lucky.”
You hum. “Why?”
He presses his lips to your forehead.
“Because you chose me.”
And he means it.
In every practice room. In every arena. In every quiet morning.
You are the love of his life.
And he never stops touching you long enough to forget it.
Masterlist Taglist
@atetheluck @imbaebi @afararraaaa @wanna-plan-world-domination
Hii it’s anon who requested a Jaehee fic! How are you doing today? 😊 Tysm for writing call me psychic it’s so good I already read it so many times! 🫶🏼
May I request another idol!jaehee fic but maybe this time he introduces his gf to the members? You don’t have to do this scenario you can do something else if you would like! 💗🙂↕️
☀︎༄.° Youre mine!!!☀︎༄.°─── Kim Jaehee x f!reader
synopsis: For the first time since the beginning of you and Jaehee's relationship, Jaehee decided to make you and his best friends and members meet. Theyre like family to him and you, you're his most important person to him in this whole entire world. You woonder what the next step of your relationship will be.
wc: 821!!!
☀︎༄.° a/n <3: thank you for the request anon! im sorry this took along time for me to write ive been pretty busy these days...its also not the best ive written... theres another part coming soon i hope... i hope you guys like it and lemme know if you wanna be put in the taglist... love you <3 ‧₊˚𓆉𓇼
MASTERLIST
Ever since the beginning of the week, Jaehee kept asking you if you were free on Saturday.
You didnt really think much of it, maybe he doesnt remember asking you.
But he’d asked three days in advance, confirmed twice, and the night before, he sent:
y/n!!!! Dont forget to wear something comfortable.
Which was eerily ominous.
So now you were sitting across from him in a quiet café, watching him stir a drink he hadn’t touched, brows faintly knit like he was rehearsing words in his head.
peak under the cut for more!!!
“Jaehee, babe,” you said gently. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
His spoon stopped, and for a second, he didn’t look up. As if he was hiding something.
He then set it down carefully, wiped his palms on his jeans and finally met your eyes.
“I want you to meet…,” he said.
You blinked. “Meet who?”
“My members.”
Oh. Oh.😃
Your chest fluttered. “You mean like someday?”
He shook his head once. “Soon, like super soon.”
Your heart did a small, startled flip.
“You don’t have to,” you said quickly. “I know dating is complicated for you and the company and your social life—”
“I want to,” he said, soft but firm.
That made u stop retorting, because Jaehee was careful with his world. Protective. He kept boundaries clean, strong, and kept his relationships professional. not out of shame, but out of fear of losing either.
So if he was offering this It definitely mattered.
“They already know about you,” he continued, gaze dropping briefly to your hands on the table. “But that’s not the same.”
He swallowed.
“You’re the most important person in my life,” he said quietly. “And they’re my family here. I don’t like that those parts don’t connect. It feels wrong.”
Your throat tightened.
“Jaehee”
“I want them to know you,” he said. “Not just like a side character in my life. You.”
His eyes lifted again and smiled.
“And I want you to see me there,” he added. “Where I live. How I am with them. All of it.”
There was a faint worry under his words now.
“Unless you don’t want to,” he said quickly. “There’s pressure. And risk. And if you’d rather stay separate I understand—”
You reached across the table and took his hand.
“I’d love to meet them,they sound funnn.” you said.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice smaller.
“Yeah.”
His fingers tightened around yours, warm, and grounding.
“Okay,” he murmured, like he was committing to something sacred. “YAY!!!”
He was more nervous the day of your scheduled hangout.
You could tell by the way he kept adjusting nothing — your sleeve, his hair, the strap of his bag — while walking you toward the dorm building.
“Just be yourself, we’re going to get along trust me” you said.
“I’m never myself around them,” he replied automatically.
You laughed. “That’s not reassuring, arent you guys “family”.”
He huffed. “I mean… I am. Just louder. And they’re louder. It’s loud.”
“Jaehee.”
He glanced at you.
“You don’t have to manage this,” you said softly. “I trust you.”
When you reached the door and he hesitated, it wasn’t fear anymore, It was significance.
The members were all waiting for u and jaehee at the front door of the dorm.
All of them.
Because Jaehee never brought anyone here, not even his family members
And now he was standing in the doorway, a little tense, fingers laced with yours like he was anchoring you beside him.
The room went very, very still.
Jaehee took a breath.
“I wanted you guys to meet y/n, my girlfriend.” he said with his golden smile.
“She’s… really important to me.”
Your chest squeezed.
“And I wanted you to know her,” he finished quietly.
The silence broke all at once.
Sion stepped forward first, expression softening. “Hi. We’ve heard a lot about you!”
You laugh a little. “Good things i hope.”
“Extremely good,” another said. “He’s insufferable, and super downbad.”
Jaehee sighed. “I regret this.”
You nudged his shoulder. “Too late.”
They laughed, the tension dissolving fast, and soon you were inside, shoes off, offered drinks, introduced properly. names, roles, inside jokes flying over your head until someone kindly explained.
Jaehee stayed close the whole time.
Like he needed to feel you there.
At one point, Ryo asked, “So how did you two meet?”
You started answering, and Jaehee watched you instead of the story — eyes soft, pride barely contained.
Because this, this exact moment, was why he’d done it.
You, here, with them, known.
You glanced back at him mid-sentence. “Right?”
He blinked, caught staring.
“Right,” he said, smiling helplessly.
Later, when conversation drifted and no one was looking, he leaned down slightly.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For coming into my life,” he said simply. “All of it.”
Your fingers slid into his.
“Always,” you said.
And Jaehee thought — with absolute certainty —
he’d made the right decision.
And again.
☀︎༄.° a/n <3: thank you @uzmacchiato for the super adorable banners....hope you enjoyed this....reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated and don't forget to check out my other works...love yaaa <333
☀︎༄.° taglist: @imbaebi @soobundle1009 @numberoneprincessenthusiast @hahaechans
© eumppapasmom — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!
SKAAJSJKSKS SO ADORABLEEEEEE EEEE IM IN LOVE
The Birth of “Ruru”
Ruby sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor of her practice room, the mirrors stretching endlessly in front of her. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, loose strands escaping and sticking to her slightly damp cheeks. A thin layer of sweat clung to her collarbone from hours of rehearsal, and her black hoodie was tossed beside her in a heap.
Her phone glowed softly in her hands as she scrolled between songs, notes from her choreographer still open in another tab. Beside her, her oversized water bottle rested like a loyal companion, beads of condensation sliding down the sides and pooling onto the floor.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the AC and the faint echo of music from distant studios.
So quiet that Ruby didn’t notice the door slowly creak open.
Felix slipped inside without a sound, mask tugged low on his face, blonde hair messy under a black cap. He paused for a second just watching her — the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the tiny pout she made when rereading a step.
Then he crouched in front of her.
“Boo.”
Ruby yelped softly, jerking in place. Her phone nearly slipped from her hands as she snapped her head up—
Only to see Felix squatting in front of her, elbows resting on his knees, mask lowered just enough to show that cheeky, familiar grin that always wrecked her composure.
Her heartbeat jumped, then settled.
“Lixie—!” Ruby laughed, clutching her chest. “You scared me. What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own practice?”
Felix shrugged, eyes softening as he looked at her. “Finished early. Thought I’d check on you.” His gaze flicked over her tied hair, flushed cheeks, and the way she was still breathing a little fast. “You’ve been in here all day.”
Ruby pouted playfully and leaned back on her hands. “I need to get this choreo right before tomorrow. I can’t afford to mess up.”
Then she squinted at him. “Wait… how do you even know I’ve been here all day?”
Felix tapped his temple with a proud smirk. “I have Ruru radar.”
“…Ruru?” she repeated slowly, staring at him like he’d just spoken in code.
“Yeah.” Felix shifted so he sat on the floor across from her. “Ruby becomes Ruru. It fits.”
She blinked once.
Twice.
“Ruru?” she echoed. “That makes me sound like a puppy.”
Felix burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “Exactly! Cute. Playful. Full of energy. That’s you.”
Ruby scoffed and twisted open her bottle, taking a dramatic sip before tossing the cap lightly at him. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to be dark and mysterious. Gothic rock star. Intimidating aura.”
Felix caught the cap mid-air with one hand and smirked. “Maybe to the world.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice, eyes suddenly warm instead of teasing.
“But to me… you’re my Ruru.”
Ruby froze.
Just for a second.
Heat rushed straight to her face.
She immediately lifted her phone and hid behind it like a shield, pretending to scroll even though her screen had long stopped moving.
“…You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.
Felix chuckled and gently tugged the top of her phone down so he could peek at her. “And you’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“Felix—”
“Ruru.”
Ruby groaned softly, but she was smiling now, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. “Stop it. That nickname is embarrassing.”
He tilted his head, pretending to think. “But it makes you smile.”
She hesitated.
“…Barely.”
Felix’s grin widened like he’d just won something. “See? Already working.”
Ruby shook her head, laughing under her breath. “Fine. But it’s only allowed in private. If you ever call me that in front of anyone else—”
“You’ll destroy me?” he guessed dramatically.
She narrowed her eyes. “Exactly.”
Felix laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Deal. Ruru is exclusive.”
He shifted closer, knees brushing hers. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. His touch was gentle, slow, like he was afraid of startling her again.
Ruby’s breath hitched slightly before she could stop it.
Felix noticed.
His smile softened.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked quietly.
Ruby sighed and leaned back against the mirror. “Just a protein bar.”
“That’s not real food.”
“It counts emotionally.”
Felix snorted. “Barely.”
He scooted closer until their shoulders touched. The warmth of him grounded her instantly, like her muscles finally remembered how to relax.
Ruby let her head fall lightly against his shoulder.
Felix tilted his head so it rested against hers.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The noise of the building faded away. No schedules. No cameras. No choreography corrections. Just the quiet sound of breathing and the faint hum of the lights above them.
Ruby closed her eyes.
“You always show up when I’m exhausted,” she murmured.
Felix smiled, eyes half-lidded. “That’s what Ruru radar is for.”
She laughed softly. “You’re really committed to that nickname.”
“Of course.” He nudged her gently. “It’s mine.”
She opened one eye. “Your what?”
“My Ruru.” He said it naturally, like it had always belonged to him. “The girl who works too hard and forgets to rest.”
Ruby went quiet again, heart doing that stupid little flutter it always did around him.
“…Thank you for coming,” she whispered.
Felix squeezed her hand, their fingers naturally lacing together on the floor between them. “Always.”
Ruby looked down at their hands, then back up at him with a shy smile. “Then I guess… Ruru is allowed.”
Felix’s eyes lit up.
“Really?”
“Only for you,” she added quickly.
His grin turned soft instead of mischievous. “Good. I don’t want anyone else using it anyway.”
They stayed like that a little longer — sitting on the practice room floor, shoulders touching, fingers intertwined, sharing a quiet bubble in the middle of their chaotic idol lives.
And from that day on, “Ruru” became their secret.
A nickname that sounded silly to anyone else.
But to Felix, it was affection wrapped into one word — belonging only to him and the girl who slowly, unknowingly, stole his heart.
My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission.
taglist: @imbaebi @ashunicornlover @blackoutbitch
Sjkjkj aw they're too adorable ughh 🤭🤭
%📷#! !⛄ If I Say, I Love You : 2014/02/14
-> synopsis: when his plans to confess to you get ruined by some snow, Hongjoong and his friends put together a new plan to win your heart
-> pairing: hongjoong x reader
-> genre/warnings: fluff, high-school au, brrr snow cold
-> word count: 1.3k
-> series masterlist: click here
-> author's welcome: hi guys welcome to part 1 uhm enjoy some silly fun cuteness yayyy!!
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February 14th, 2014. Never in his sixteen years of living has there been an eventful day like today. Who knew that snow on Valentine's Day would completely ruin the plans of Kim Hongjoong.
The whole day was planned out by him and his friends. You'd come to school and receive a flower from one of them, and then first period you'd receive another one. Then again and again each class until finally at the end of the day, Hongjoong's greeting you at the school entrance with a song to confess his love.
But, school was cancelled all together with the amount of snow being forecasted to fall.. Yeah he had to scrap all of his plans and make a new one.
Step 1: Find out where you live.
“What?” Hongjoong blanked out once Wooyoung and Yunho pulled up the slide on their powerpoint. “Find out where she lives? What am I some kind of creep?”
Crammed together on one couch with barely any room to spare was Hongjoong and the rest of his friends, soft mumbles from the others go around at his words.
“Dude, you already blush even if she's just looking at you that’s like.. borderline creep. Anyways,” Before Hongjoong can even argue with Yunho the slide changes to a stock photo of a random house with a red circle around it.
“This is useless to the powerpoint.”
“I know where she lives.” Yeosang raises his hand with his words, “I walked her home once..” Everyone's head snapped towards him, one in particular came with a little glare. “What..? I'm a gentleman, I can't let a girl walk home alone in the rain.”
Step 2: Hongjoong gives you a bouquet of flowers.
The group look at the vase filled with roses in front of them on the coffee table. “Is that your mom's vase?” Hongjoong stays silent as his friends start analyzing where in the house they've seen it before.
“Okay, next slide please..”
Step 3: Pull out that beautiful voice baby.
“Yun, come on I thought you changed the title.”
“But that's what you put down, I thought you just wanted a bit of personality in this.”
Hongjoong puts his head in his hands and groans, “So I’m guessing this is where I sing?” He receives nods from the two standing.
“And San is holding up the speaker—”
“Woah woah woah.. When did I agree to this?” The boy exclaims and is shushed by Mingi, “You lost the rock paper scissors during the last plan.”
“Okay but.. I thought because it’s a new plan.. I’d.. Whatever..” San trails off with a pout on his face
Step 4: Kiss kiss, fall in love.
A poorly drawn picture of Hongjoong and you shows up on the screen, hearts all around you and your stick figures are holding hands as the gif of rose petals fall around you two.
“Any questions?”
With Yeosang leading the way, the group of boys were on their way to your house. Snow is already falling from the sky but Hongjoong’s still sweating underneath his coat from all of the nerves in his heart. He’s clutching the roses in his arms (no vase, sorry mom) with every step he takes.
After three miss turns, five wrong directions, and tons of tripping from the boys around him, Hongjoong finally made it to your house. The eight boys huddle around together outside of the building, Seonghwa’s loosening up the nervous boy by massaging his shoulders while the others hype him up.
“Now remember, if you need us we’ll be right on the street across behind the tree.. Except for San who’s right next to you. But anyways, at the end of the day we love you, you’re the core of our group and we care for you so much, Joong.”
“Are you the one confessing to him or what?” After Jongho’s one-liner, the group scrambles after hearing the front door open. Peeking through the door crack is your dad who’s putting on an intimidating front to the boy left in front of the door.
“Who are you?” Just three words is enough to make Hongjoong freeze up, the roses being clutched even tighter to his chest. His eyes dart left to right and notice that the others all left him.
“I.. I.. Will you be my Valentine? No wait I mean. Can I ask you to be, wait.” Hongjoong turns around to take a deep breath, when he faces your dad again he notices the fact that he had a soft smile before dropping it to a straight face.
“Can I ask your daughter to be my Valentine..?”
A few seconds pass by as your dad gazes at Hongjoong, “We’ll see what she says” The door shuts with a slam, Hongjoong freezes in his spot and stays silent as he hears rustling through the door and he ignores the shouts towards him coming from across the street as the door finally opens to your shocked figure.
“Hongjoong! Woah, it’s snowing and.. Valentine’s Day.. and you’re here..”
He finally moves the roses away from his heart and extend them towards you. When you take them from his hands, the feeling of your soft skin makes his cold hands warm up even without gloves. A small blush forms on his cheeks, matching the way the snow made his nose all red.
“I had this whole plan to confess to you at school but.. obviously we’re not at school. But now I can’t even fully go through with the back-up plan because the speaker ran-off to the other side of the street..” He glances behind him, noticing Sam holding up the speaker. The sound is only faintly heard to their ears, but whatever beat was playing was overrun by the sound of your chuckle.
“So.. back-up back-up plan..” Hongjoong takes out a piece of paper from his pocket, it’s thin enough that you can see just how many words were scribbled out and rewritten from the back. “Dear Y/N, from the moment I first saw you, I gained a crush on you. From your kindness to your humor, to the way you call my name, everything about you makes my heart flutter..”
He looks up at you and sees you smiling at him, even when your hair is messy from obviously sleeping in, with mismatched socks and a coat loosely put around your shoulder he thinks you’re the most beautiful person in the world.
“I know this may sound weird, but I think about you all the time. I really really like you, Y/N L/N..”
You step closer to him and every step makes his heart flutter, a hand reaches up to his head and ruffles the snow out of his hair. “I really really really like you too Kim Hongjoong.” When you wrap your arm around him and bring him into an embrace you hear a roar of cheers coming from across the street.
“Please ignore them..” Hongjoong mumbles into your shoulder.
“Only if you ignore my parents, who are definitely watching through the window.” At your words, Hongjoong glances at the window and he sees the curtain close instantly. He laughs and pulls you into a tighter embrace, chants of ‘kiss kiss kiss’ are going in through your ears and out the other.
“Do you want to have a snowball fight?”
“I would love to have a snowball fight.”
★☆★ network/s: @kflixnet, @eighteez-net
previous / masterlist / next
☆★☆ taglist: @loonaluvz, @boomhoon, @sanasour, @hazygyu
😻😻 YES SNOWBALL FIGHT
Home Looks Like This || Jay x Black! reader
Five years in, Jay’s favorite place isn’t the stage or the studio, it’s the warm apartment you built together and the life that feels steady, teasing, and completely yours. Written for @hayszen, my boho baddie queen
the apartment always felt warmer when people were coming over.
not just because the oven had been on since four. not just because candles flickered against textured walls and the air smelled like nutmeg and roasted vegetables. it was the way the space held memory. woven wall art in deep earth tones. framed prints of black photographers and painters lining the hallway. carved wood accents you’d thrifted together. vinyls stacked near the record player. plants spilling from shelves like they were trying to listen in.
it looked like you.
and jay loved that.
he was leaning against the kitchen island, sleeves pushed up, watching you move between the stove and the counter like this was choreography. you didn’t rush. you never rushed in your own home. your hair was tied up loosely, gold hoops catching the light every time you turned your head.
“you’ve been staring for five minutes,” you said without looking at him.
“i’m observing,” he corrected smoothly.
“observing what?”
“my girlfriend being the hottest person alive while cutting onions.”
you snorted. “you’re not helping.”
he pushed off the counter and walked over anyway. his hands slid around your waist like it was instinct. five years and he still couldn’t keep them to himself. his chin rested on your shoulder, lips brushing just beneath your ear.
“i could help,” he murmured.
“last time you ‘helped’ you ate half the roasted potatoes.”
“quality control.”
you turned your head just enough for him to steal a kiss. it wasn’t quick. it never was with him. jay kissed like he meant it. slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
the doorbell rang.
you pulled away first, laughing. “go get them before niki starts banging like the police.”
jay squeezed your waist once before letting go. “if they disrespect my door, they’re not eating.”
“you say that every time.”
“and i mean it every time.”
he opened the door to chaos.
sunoo was the first one inside, already talking. jungwon followed, polite as always but smiling like he was ready to tease. niki walked in last, tall and dramatic, immediately sniffing the air.
“it smells insane in here.”
“take your shoes off,” jay said automatically.
“see?” sunoo whispered loudly. “dad voice.”
“shut up,” jay shot back, but he was already grinning.
they filtered into the living room, taking in the space like they hadn’t been here a dozen times before. jungwon paused in front of a framed print on the wall.
“you added something new.”
you walked out of the kitchen, wiping your hands on a towel. “yeah. found it last week.”
jay’s hand found the small of your back as he passed you. not dramatic. not showy. just there. grounding.
niki watched the way jay leaned down to murmur something in your ear, the way you laughed softly and nudged him with your hip.
“i’m serious,” niki said, flopping onto the couch. “you two are disgusting.”
“thank you,” you replied sweetly.
“no, like… you act like actual married people.”
sunoo nodded. “it’s giving long-term stability. it’s giving shared grocery lists.”
“we do have a shared grocery list,” jay said without shame.
jungwon gasped. “wow.”
jay rolled his eyes and pulled you into his side. “what do you want us to do? argue for entertainment?”
“a little tension would be nice,” sunoo teased.
you tilted your head. “oh, we can fight if that makes you comfortable.”
jay looked down at you. “don’t start.”
the maknaes howled.
dinner was loud. plates passed around. seconds demanded. niki complimented the food three times between bites. jungwon helped clear the table without being asked. sunoo kept making comments every time jay reached over to brush his thumb across your knuckles or refill your glass before you noticed it was low.
at one point you stood to grab something from the kitchen and jay followed without thinking.
“you need help?” he asked quietly.
“no. i just forgot the hot sauce.”
he didn’t move. just watched you for a second.
“what?” you asked.
“nothing.”
“jay.”
he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “i just… like seeing you here. like this.”
“in my own apartment?”
“our apartment,” he corrected softly.
that did something to you. it always did.
five years ago, he’d been sharp edges and quick wit and intensity. he still was. but with you he was steady. open. hands always reaching. eyes always checking in.
“you’re being sentimental,” you teased.
“maybe.”
he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. just for a second. just enough.
from the living room:
“ARE YOU GUYS KISSING AGAIN?”
niki’s voice echoed dramatically.
you burst out laughing. jay groaned.
“they’re unbelievable,” he muttered.
“you love them.”
“unfortunately.”
when you went back out, sunoo was smirking.
“did you at least keep it pg?”
“finish your food,” jay replied.
after dinner turned into dessert and dessert turned into everyone sprawled across the living room floor, music playing low from the record player, the teasing softened. niki ended up resting against the couch. jungwon was half-asleep. sunoo was scrolling through something on his phone.
you were curled into jay’s side, your legs draped over his. his fingers traced idle patterns along your arm. absentminded. affectionate.
comfortable.
“hyung,” jungwon mumbled sleepily, “if i get married one day i want it to look like this.”
jay glanced down at you before answering.
“then pick the right person.”
you squeezed his hand.
sunoo peeked over his phone. “okay that was cute. i hate it.”
you laughed, resting your head against jay’s shoulder.
he pressed a kiss into your hair. not for show. not for commentary. just because he could.
and five years in, he still wanted to.
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@atetheluck @imbaebi @wanna-plan-world-domination
Gigglingggg AHHH they're cute 🥰
