when you found a phone that somehow connects you to a stranger from the past, maybe it was fate all along.
fallen
nephilims. an abomination to mankind and angels alike. nephilims were volatile, dangerous even. neither human nor angel, they were never supposed to exist. so when the department of strange occurrences sent one of their angels down to the earth to investigate, things are not as they seem.
jeon wonwoo
always by your side
when you have a nightmare about wonwoo dying, you can’t fall asleep before knowing he’s okay.
cat wonwoo scenarios
a short imagine if wonwoo was a cat, featuring other svt members.
lee dokyeom
the one that got away
when dying somehow makes you reincarnate exactly one year before the incident, you wonder what caused it all. the only twist? it’s always a different male lead every time.
ateez
jeong yunho
*fan favourite
“domestic diaries.”
i just need you to love me
when the family dinner doesn't go as well as you'd hope, at least yunho is still by your side.
*comfort is right where you are
in where, you go on tour with yunho.
*nothing beats a jet2holiday. (except you)
in where, you never expected for yunho to show up at your door at 2a.m. especially when he's supposed to be on tour.
frankenstein, frankenstein
halloween special
in where, you thought your best friend was joking when she told you she built frankenstein in her house turned lab.
“to all the boyz i loved before”
part of the network: @deoboyznet
lee hyunjae
his car isn’t yours
when a long-distance relationship didn’t work out, you try to move on. but why can’t you seem to get him off your mind?
to the moon and back
how can you say no to visiting an amusement park with your boyfriend?
between the lies (pt. one, pt. two)
agent! hyunjae x reader x rogue agent! eric
when two strangers break into your house, both claiming to have known you in the past, they each offer you a choice. stay, or run?
mornings with you
spin-off from between the lies
oh boy, was he really head over heels for you.
till we meet again the red threads of fate
爱了，就爱了
once you start loving someone, they will have always been loved by you.
eric sohn
missed connections
in where eric accidentally connects to his soulmate from another reality— a reality where soulmates doesn’t exist.
my (not so) lovely guardian angel
who's scared when you always have your guardian angel with you at all times?
or, apparently heaven assigned the wrong guardian angel to you. but it's okay because he promised to always be there by your side.
love.
spin-off from my (not so) lovely guardian angel!
(d) a quality or feeling of strong or constant affection for and dedication to another
tarot: the lovers
meeting an idol wasn’t in your itinerary. but apparently, it was in your cards.
between the lies (pt. one, pt. two)
agent! hyunjae x reader x rogue agent! eric
when two strangers break into your house, both claiming to have known you in the past, they each offer you a choice. stay, or run?
*late night drive
in where, you reunite after a long time of being in a long distance relationship with eric.
lean on me
in where, throughout your whole life, you try your best to not trouble anyone, but eric shows you it’s okay to do otherwise.
lee sangyeon
oh, angel!
being ambushed and turning up on a human’s doorstep for help wasn’t on sangyeon’s bucket list — neither was falling for one.
a/n: i finally finished it after a super long time! i’ve always loved this idea so i’m so glad i was able to sit down and finish it.
nephilims. an abomination to mankind and angels alike. nephilims were volatile, dangerous even. neither human nor angel, they were never supposed to exist. so when the department of strange occurrences sent one of their angels down to the earth to investigate, things are not as they seem.
act I.
there was a theory where a nephilim in the presence of an angel wouldn't be as volatile as their powers cancelled each other out.
“did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” you asked kim mingyu, nudging him with your elbow to get his attention.
he looked at you, his mouth agape in offence. “mind you. i didn’t fall, i flew down.”
“uh-huh.” you nodded unconvincingly.
“plus, i came here for business purposes so…”
“so?” you asked as he didn’t continue.
“i should get going.” he finished, standing up from the park bench to go who knows where.
it was mingyu’s first time meeting, let alone talking to a human, and what weird creatures he thinks they are. having being sent by the superiors running the department of strange occurrences in heaven, he was tasked to investigate about the strange occurrences (as stated) happening in the town of fairville. though he wondered if the strange things were just normalcy for the strange humans. he did learn about them from the previous reports from his and the other departments, but seeing one up close was totally different.
“hey!” you called out, jogging lightly to catch up with his pace.
“what?” he asked, stopping abruptly, causing you to bump head first into his back.
you squeezed your eyes shut, rubbing your head at the sudden impact. are all angels made out of steel?
“the thing you asked about just now. i don’t know why you angels want nets and silver bullets, apparently not for catching werewolves, but i know a place where you can get them.” you said, the pain from the sudden impact earlier subsiding.
“huh.” mingyu looked at you, curiosity piqued. “werewolves aren’t real.” he stated.
“twilight says otherwise.” you shrugged.
“who’s twilight?” he asked, confused.
you shook your head, walking to the direction of the nearest subway. “right. forget what i just said. since i have some time to spare, let’s head over to uncle kim’s shop right now, you coming?”
—-
“granduncle kim!” you shouted as soon as you stepped into the vintage shop making your way to the backroom with mingyu right behind you.
your granduncle looked up from the mechanical watch he was tinkering, his eyes lighting up when his gaze fell on you.
he stood up from his worktable, walking over to you. “it’s good to see you, dear.”
his eyes landed on mingyu behind you, who was busy looking at the picture frames on the cabinet. “who are you? why aren’t you with seungcheol?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and directing his question to mingyu.
“right. about that.” you pulled mingyu’s arm towards you. “he’s mingyu. a friend i just met. and seungcheol is busy with school.”
“and you’re not?” granduncle asked.
you smiled sheepishly. “i was. but i took a short break.”
he raised his eyebrow.
“anyways.” you continued. “mingyu here needs some things, and i thought we could help him out.” you nudged mingyu to go forward.
mingyu flashed a charming smile, one that would make even cinderella’s prince charming jealous. “hello, it’s nice to meet you, granduncle. y/n here told me you would have some spare nets and silver bullets lying around?”
but it looked like his charm did not move your granduncle even a bit. your granduncle nodded. “they were in the attic the last time i checked. take anything you want. haven’t touched them in years.” he grumbled, going back to sit by his worktable.
“let’s go!” you whispered, tugging mingyu along to a bare part of the storeroom that looks untouched.
he looked around the empty room, confused. “what… are we doing here?”
you squinted before pointing towards the ceiling. “there. thank god that he made you angels tall. if you could just pull that little tab over there…”
mingyu’s eyes trailed to where you were pointing and reached out, his fingers just brushing the tab. “you mean this one?” he confirmed.
you nodded. as soon as he pulled the tab, a wooden ladder rolled down, sending heaps of dust flying everywhere.
“after you.” mingyu said, gesturing towards the ladder.
you climbed, pulling yourself up to the attic. there were boxes piled onto each other, the thick layer of dust evident of neglect. you lifted up the lid of the box closest to you to find photo albums stacked against each other. you flipped them open to see two unfamiliar faces that looked like they were in the town of fairville decades ago. you solemnly looked through the pictures, noting how in love they looked. the small pendant hanging on the woman’s neck caught your eye, seeing how familiar it looked to yours.
“what are you looking at?” mingyu asked, taking a peek over your shoulder.
you shook your head. “i don’t know why granduncle still keeps all these photo albums here. as far as i know, my birth parents passed away in a fire.” you shut the photo album, turning to look at mingyu. “have you found what you’re looking for?”
he nodded. “it’s all in the box right here. any other boxes you want to check out?”
“nah, it’s okay. we just came for those anyway.” you said, heading towards the ladder. “though… you still haven’t told me what you angels are hunting.”
“well, it’s neither human nor angel.” he answered curtly.
“okay…” you dragged out, making your way down with him following right behind you. you made your way out of the shop, following mingyu to god knows where, the cardboard box looking tiny in his arms.
“well… can you at least tell me where we're going?”
“uh-uh. not we. it's way too dangerous.” he said, falling into pace with you.
“i can handle it. plus, you don't know how the human world works.”
he shook his head. “it's not right for an angel to risk a human’s life.”
“you're not risking my life. i’m doing it myself. i promise to run at the first sign of danger.” you countered. you see mingyu squinting at a paper, his eyebrows scrunched into a frown.
“it's an address.” you explained, glancing at the paper. “see? you need help.”
“fine.” he sighed. “but you leave when it gets too dangerous.” he added.
“deal.”
—-
“it literally says we’re at the right place. but why does it look like we aren't?” you asked, raising your eyebrows while checking over the map again. the address brought you both to a night club named the pandemonium.
“y/n-ah, it's a front for anything supernatural. deals. information. anything a supernatural would need.” mingyu explained, walking up to the bouncers with you following closely behind.
the two bouncers guarding the door looked anything but human. one had eyes that glowed faintly amber when the light hit, the other’s shadow didn’t quite match his body.
“password?” the taller one rumbled, his voice vibrating in his chest.
mingyu didn’t hesitate. “de lumine cadentem.”
for a moment, the air between them shimmered—like heat rising from asphalt—and then the bouncer stepped aside.
“angels,” the shorter one muttered under his breath, as if it was a slur.
you swallowed, gripping mingyu’s sleeve as he pushed the door open. the inside was a blur of color and chaos: glowing sigils scrawled on the walls, creatures you’d only seen in myths lounging on velvet couches, laughter that didn’t sound entirely human.
you leaned closer to mingyu. “this… doesn’t look like a place angels are welcome.”
“we’re not,” he replied quietly, eyes scanning the crowd. “that’s why we don’t stay long.”
and as he said that, something across the room shifted—a ripple of awareness, eyes turning toward you both like sharks scenting blood.
mingyu didn’t slow down as you weaved through the crowd, brushing past creatures that looked human until you caught the glint of something—fangs, claws, eyes that glowed too bright.
you tried to keep your voice casual. “so. who exactly are we here to see?”
“someone who owes heaven a favor,” mingyu said simply.
“you sound like a tax collector.”
“in a way, i am.”
he led you past a velvet curtain at the back, the music fading into a low hum as the hallway narrowed. the walls here were lined with mirrors—cracked and distorted. your reflection blurred every few seconds, like it couldn’t decide if it was you.
“don’t look too long,” mingyu murmured.
you averted your eyes immediately. “good to know.”
finally, he stopped in front of a door marked with a single sigil—burned into the wood, pulsing faintly red. he raised a hand, hesitated for half a beat, then knocked once.
it opened by itself.
the room beyond was dimly lit, filled with smoke and the scent of iron. behind a desk sat a figure— elegant, sharp, their smile too smooth to be comforting.
“kim mingyu,” the figure drawled. “i thought heaven stopped sending pretty boys for collection work.”
mingyu’s jaw tightened. “hello to you too, myeongho.”
myeongho leaned back in his chair, one leg crossing over the other as he regarded you both. “and who’s this? your new partner?”
his eyes slid to you, and you felt the air shift, heavier somehow.
mingyu’s hand came to rest lightly on your arm. “she’s with me.”
“that much i gathered,” myeongho said, lips curving. “but why? a human, at that.”
the question hung there.
“business,” mingyu said shortly.
myeongho’s smirk didn’t falter. “everything’s business with heaven. debts, promises, souls…” he tapped the desk idly with a black-gloved finger. “but i didn’t think you would come crawling back, mingyu. what’s the matter? your golden leash too tight?”
you saw mingyu’s wings flicker faintly behind him—just a shimmer of light, restrained fury.
“i’m not here to argue,” he said. “i’m here for information.”
“about?”
“the nephilim.”
myeongho stilled. for a heartbeat, even the smoke in the room seemed to freeze.
then, very slowly, he smiled. “ah. so that’s why heaven sent you.” his gaze drifted to you again. “they must be getting desperate.”
you shifted under his scrutiny. “what do you know about them?”
myeongho chuckled, low and dangerous. “enough to know that heaven’s been hunting the wrong kind.”
myeongho tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curving in amusement. “straight lines are boring,” he said lazily, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. “and besides, truth rarely travels in them.”
mingyu took a step forward, his voice low. “i didn’t come here for riddles.”
“oh, but heaven loves riddles, doesn’t it?” myeongho countered, eyes glinting. “orders dressed as prayers, justice dressed as mercy. tell me, mingyu—did they even tell you why you’re here?”
mingyu’s silence was answer enough.
“i thought so.” myeongho leaned back, his wings—sleek and gray like storm clouds—unfolding just enough to catch the dim light. “you angels never question. always so eager to serve. but this time…” his gaze drifted to you, slow and deliberate. “this time, you’re chasing a ghost.”
your throat went dry. “a ghost?”
“a name. a myth. the nephilim,” myeongho said. “heaven believes they’re the root of every tremor, every dark omen lately. but what they don’t tell their soldiers—” his eyes flicked back to mingyu “—is that their precious half-bloods were never meant to die out.”
myeongho crossed his arms. “you came here for answers. so all i’m going to tell you is this— what you’re searching for might be closer than you think.”
—-
you followed him out of the backroom, the heavy door shutting behind you with a hiss that sounded far too final. the music of the club hit again—low bass, distorted voices, laughter that didn’t sound quite human.
“he was just absolutely helpful,” mingyu muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“uh-huh.” you tugged at his sleeve. “so, in angel language, that means ‘we hit a dead end’ right?”
“not exactly. he just confirmed that what we’re looking for is in—“ mingyu stopped mid-step, his hand darting out to pull you closer as something sharp whizzed past your head, embedding into the wall behind you with a metallic thunk.
you froze. “what the hell—”
“eyes down,” he hissed, already moving. “we’ve got company. raiders.”
“what?” your voice came out higher than you meant, the air thick with smoke and neon light.
“rogues,” he said quickly, tugging you toward a side corridor. “mercenaries who hunt divine energy. they’ll sell an angel’s grace—or something close—to the highest bidder. we need to get out of here. fast.”
something exploded near the entrance, the shockwave knocking you off balance. mingyu caught you before you hit the ground, his arm curling around you protectively as a pulse of light rippled through the corridor.
“holy fire,” he cursed, his voice a low growl. “where did they get those blessed weapons?”
you looked at him, heart hammering. “is it that bad?”
“only if you enjoy disintegration.”
the sound of wings—harsh and heavy—filled the air, and mingyu swore under his breath. “damn it.” he turned to you, eyes glowing faintly now, a divine shimmer breaking through his disguise. “we’re not getting out the front.”
he grabbed a small pendant from his pocket and pressed it into your hand, the metal hot against your skin. “this’ll keep you hidden for a few seconds. when I say run—”
“you say run a lot, you know that?”
“and yet you never do it.”
the corner of his mouth twitched—barely a smile—before his wings burst free, ivory and blinding even in the dim red light of the club. the air around you vibrated with raw power as he turned to face the shadows closing in.
you stared, momentarily speechless. “you— you can’t just—”
“now!” he shouted, hurling a wave of light down the hall.
and you ran.
you sprinted past shattered mirrors and overturned tables, clutching the pendant tight as heat seared the air behind you. through the chaos you heard mingyu—fighting, each clash ringing with something celestial and furious.
you didn’t look back. not until the world tilted, your vision pulsing white, and the last thing you heard before darkness took you was mingyu’s voice calling your name.
—-
“seungcheol?” you asked tiredly, sitting up slowly despite every muscle in your body protesting. “how— what happened?”
his head snapped up from where he was crouched near the doorway, a faint golden shimmer fading from his hands. “easy,” he said, crossing to you quickly. “don’t move too fast.”
you stared at his hands, at where the glow once was. “you’re… an angel too, aren’t you?”
“was.”
you blinked at him, still dazed. “you mean… like mingyu?”
a flicker crossed his expression at the name, something like irritation tangled with worry. “not like him,” seungcheol said softly. “not anymore.”
you frowned, trying to piece together what happened, why your body ached as if every nerve had been scorched. “then what are you?”
he gave a small, almost rueful smile. “fallen,” he said simply. “the polite term for exiled.”
your breath caught. “heaven threw you out?”
“i left before they could.” he lowered himself to sit beside the bed— close enough that the faint warmth of him reached you. “they don’t take kindly to angels who question orders.”
you let out a breath you were holding. “does granduncle kim know? that you’re a fallen?”
seungcheol nodded. “he does.” seungcheol said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “he’s the one who found me after i left.”
you blinked, processing that. “and he didn’t… turn you in?”
a small huff of amusement left him. “heaven stopped trusting me long before that. besides, your granduncle has his own secrets—he knows how to keep one.”
“so he knew,” you murmured, sinking back against the thin pillow, exhaustion pulling at you in slow waves. “all this time?”
seungcheol nodded once. “all this time.”
you let that settle, the crackle of the fire filling the silence between you. then, your voice came out quieter—fragile in a way you didn’t intend:
“what happened to mingyu?”
seungcheol froze with dread. like he’d been waiting for that question and hoping you were too tired to ask it.
his jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low. careful.
“heaven recalled him.”
your fingers curled into the blanket. “recalled…? as in—”
“dragged,” seungcheol corrected gently. “he didn’t go willingly.”
your heart lurched painfully. “why? he didn’t do anything wrong—he was just protecting—”
“you,” he finished for you, looking at you with something heavy and knowing. “that was the problem.”
your breath hitched.
“y/n. you’re the nephilim heaven sent mingyu to look for.”
you stared at him, your mouth parting soundlessly.
“no,” you breathed out, unbelievable , a laugh slipping from you. “no, that… that’s not—seungcheol, that’s impossible. you know me. i grew up in fairville. i’m.. i’m just—”
“human?” he supplied softly.
you nodded, desperate. “yes. exactly. i’m human.”
but he only looked at you with that same steady, unbearable calm— like he had already watched you try to outrun this truth in ten different lifetimes.
“then why,” he asked quietly, “did the sky split open when you were terrified in that alley ten years ago?”
your stomach dropped. “maybe, that was just a coincidence!”
“then, why did the rain stop the moment mingyu held onto you? why did your body survive an attack that would’ve torn a human apart?”
you shook your head. “that doesn’t prove anything, seungcheol. not—“
“your mother,” seungcheol said softly, and your words died in your throat.
you looked up sharply.
his expression changed—gentler, sadder, carrying a weight he’d been holding alone for too long.
“y/n… she wasn’t just some runaway angel who fell in love with a mortal.”
your hands trembled.
“she was powerful. powerful enough that heaven marked her children as threats the moment they existed.”
a beat.
“you weren’t supposed to survive the night she died.”
your heart squeezed painfully, breath coming too fast, too thin.
“stop,” you whispered. “please—stop.”
seungcheol leaned forward, voice soft but unyielding.
“you asked what happened to mingyu.” he paused. “this is what happened. he found the nephilim he was sent to hunt. and he chose to protect you instead.”
it was then you realised. they were never raiders. and you still remember the panic in mingyu’s eyes when he gave you the pendant and told you to run.
“he knew?”you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “mingyu… knew what i was?”
seungcheol looked at you, voice certain. “not at first. but when he realized the truth… he didn’t hesitate.”
he paused.
“he chose you over heaven.”
—-
lying was a sin.
mingyu knew that.
he was a perfect student. the doctrines engraved into his head since day one: angels do not lie. angels do not deceive. angels must always follow the rule of heaven.
but he had lied. betrayed the trust of heaven. strayed away from his mission, his purpose. and the worst thing was, he would do it all over again if it meant that you were safe. and that was the problem: angels weren’t supposed to care. or have emotions— in excess.
and now, he felt the consequences in the most terrifying way an angel could: his wings were dimming.
and in heaven, that was the first sign of corruption.
“angel mingyu,” one of the higher ups spoke, his voice cold, official. “you abandoned your assignment.”
“you never told me she was the nephilim.” mingyu replied steadily. any ounce of emotion would put you and him in even more danger.
a ripple passed through the council circle, feathers rustling like a warning.
“that information was withheld for a reason,” another angel said, tone hardening. “your job was to locate and report. nothing more.”
“i followed protocol—“
“do you think we’re fools, angel?” another voice boomed. “do you think we don’t know that you interfered with our retrieval?”
he didn’t reply. couldn’t.
“the council deems you are compromised,” the presiding angel said. “the nephilim is a threat—an anomaly born of disobedience. she should not exist.”
“she is innocent.”
“is she?” the presiding angel asked. “the fact that she exists, is an abomination.a forbidden child— born of a human and an angel who disobeyed heaven. an act that has condemned entire legions before.”
“what will you do,” the presiding angel continued, voice rising, “when her awakening brings armageddon to us all?”
mingyu’s breath faltered.
“i—”
“you have no answer,” the presider said sharply. “because you are blinded.”
light surged beneath mingyu’s feet, tightening around him like shackles, his wings dimming yet another shade.
“angel mingyu,” the presider declared, “for negligence, deception, and emotional compromise—”
the words echoed across the marble chamber, final and merciless.
“—you are hereby sentenced to confinement.”
his pulse stopped.
“your wings will be restrained,” another elder added. “your grace sealed until we determine whether you can be purified.”
one of the angels leaned in coldly.
“perhaps confinement will remind you of your purpose.”
the chains, made of light and pure grace, wrapped around the base of mingyu’s wings. and the moment it tightened, mingyu choked on a strangled breath.
heaven was binding him.
disabling him.
reminding him why he shouldn’t go against his orders.
mingyu swallowed hard, vision blurring.
“and her?” he rasped. “y/n?”
the presider’s expression did not change.
“the nephilim will be dealt with.”
“what—”
“someone has already been sent to retrieve her,” another said. “an angel who does not question, does not hesitate, and does not… feel.”
mingyu’s blood ran cold.
he knew exactly who they meant.
“no,” he whispered.
the chains tightened.
“junghan.”
—-
act II.
the fallen are no longer beings of heaven.
mingyu knew that the only way out was down.
to fall.
heaven had designed confinement as a place where one couldn’t even tell how time passes, a place where one couldn’t even think.
and he knew, the longer he stayed, the more he would lose himself, lose the memories of you. and he would rather fall than lose you.
your voice.
your laugh.
the way you smiled.
he closed his eyes. he knew that if he chose to fall, he could never return to the heaven realm. his grace would be stripped. wings burned.
yet, if he didn’t. he might not be able to return to you.
he breathed deeply, and with a voice barely above a whisper, he chose. “i fall.”
the word left his lips like a prayer heaven would never accept.
for a moment, nothing happened.
then the world cracked.
light splintered across the empty white void of confinement. his wings burned brightly against the sky, as gravity dragged him back down. and in his final moment between heaven and earth, as the last remnants of his divinity burned away, mingyu made one last silent prayer:
please let me fall to her.
—
the impact shook the earth.
not enough to create a crater, no, heaven had stripped him of almost all of his divinity, but enough for every fallen within a ten-kilometer radius to snap their heads up.
including seungcheol.
you stiffened where you sat on the cracked leather booth of the abandoned pizzeria, where the fallen had chosen to set up their base, their shelter, or their meeting spot, as one would call it.
“what was that?” you whispered.
seungcheol’s brows furrowed, but before he could answer, the ground rumbled a second time. he rose immediately, wings flaring out in instinct, black and sharp like carved obsidian.
“stay behind me.” he ordered.
“cheol—”
“please.”
you swallowed your argument. you followed seungcheol as he stepped out the front door of the pizzeria cautiously, your hands lighting gripping the back of seungcheol’s coat as his wings half-unfurled in tense instinct.
and then you saw it.
your breath hitched. mingyu lay crumpled on the ground, his breath shallow and uneven. but his wings, his once pure white wings were now black, not soft obsidian like seungcheol’s, but freshly burned, edges still smoking, feathers brittle and cracked like molten glass cooling too fast.
“no…” you whispered, stepping past seungcheol before he could stop you.
you knelt beside mingyu, hands trembling as you reached out—but you didn’t touch him, afraid one wrong move would hurt him more.
“mingyu?” your voice shook.
his fingers twitched.
he tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out. the second he shifted, the wings dragged across the ground with a fragile, agonizing scrape.
you flinched.
he flinched harder.
“y/n…” he rasped, eyes barely opening. “don’t— touch— wings… hurts…”
your heart cracked.
behind you, seungcheol finally exhaled.
“he’s lucky he landed here. we need to get him inside,” he said, voice low with urgency. “the fall stripped most of his grace— he won’t last long out here.”
you turned to him, realizing this wasn’t shock in his voice.
it was familiarity.
seungcheol had fallen too.
he knew exactly what mingyu was going through.
you looked at mingyu again— your chest tightening at the sight of those blackened wings, the way he shook from the effort of just breathing.
you slid your hand into his gently.
“mingyu,” you whispered, “we’re taking you home.”
and for the first time since he crashed onto earth, he let himself lean into you completely.
—-
mingyu woke up choking on air that felt too heavy for his lungs.
his eyes flew open, wings jerking instinctively, before a burst of pain ripped through his back.
“mingyu— hey, hey, don’t move,” you said quickly, hands hovering, panic sharp in your chest. “please.”
recognition flashed through his eyes and his breathing stuttered, slowly, he went still.
the room was dim, lit only by flickering fluorescent lights and a few candles scattered across overturned tables. cracked tiles. old posters peeling off the walls— seokmin’s pepperoni pizza still smiling down like it didn’t know the impending doom that was coming.
an abandoned pizzeria.
memory flooded back all at once.
heaven.
confinement.
the fall.
you.
his gaze snapped to you.
“y/n,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “you’re—”
“i’m here,” you said immediately. “you’re safe. as safe as you can be.”
he swallowed hard. “we don’t have time,” he said, trying to sit up again. the searing pain forced a sharp inhale, but he pushed through it. “they sent junghan.”
seungcheol, leaning against the counter nearby, straightened and cursed. “of course they did.” seungcheol muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
mingyu turned to him, recognition flashing. “fallen.”
“exiled.” seungcheol corrected. “by choice. same as you now.”
mingyu’s jaw tightened. “then you know what sending him means.”
“yes,” seungcheol said. “war.”
the word settled like ash in the room.
mingyu’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric of the couch beneath him. “junghan doesn’t get sent unless the council wants an example made. he’s a purifier. he doesn’t negotiate.”
seungcheol nodded once. “heaven’s message is simple,” he said. “return the nephilim. execute the fallen. erase the rest.”
mingyu looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in his expression fractured. “they’ll burn this place to the ground,” he murmured. “and everyone in it.”
as if summoned by his words, footsteps echoed from the back hallway.
you tensed.
but instead of angels, figures emerged from the shadows.
they all stopped when they saw mingyu.
“new fall,” someone muttered.
the one with the ash-gray wings stepped closer, gaze sharp but not unkind. “you survived a clean burn.”
“barely,” mingyu replied.
he nodded once. “then you’re strong. or stupid.”
“both,” seungcheol said flatly.
his eyes flicked to you then, narrowing. “and that must be why heaven’s throwing a tantrum.”
the room shifted.
every fallen in the pizzeria looked at you.
mingyu reached for your hand without thinking, his grip firm despite the pain. “she’s under my protection,” he said, voice steady.
the one with the ash-gray wings, who you now know as seungkwan let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face like he was already exhausted by the future.
“welcome,” he said dryly, “to the afterlight society.”
you blinked. “that’s… ominous.”
“we workshopped it,” someone chirped from the back. “it was either that or the burnt wing collective. i’m seokmin, by the way.”
“no one was going to take us seriously if we went with that,” seungkwan shot back.
despite yourself, a weak huff of laughter slipped out of you— brief, disbelieving. the sound felt wrong in a place like this. like laughing in a graveyard.
mingyu glanced at you, a small smile at the corner of his lips.
“we’re what’s left,” seungkwan continued, tone sobering. “angels who chose wrong. asked too many questions. loved the wrong people.”
his eyes flicked to mingyu’s wings, still trembling faintly, feathers darkened at the edges. “or fell for them.”
the fallen shifted around the room, some leaning against counters, others sitting on upturned crates. they were all different— scars, burns, wings in various states of ruin, but they shared the same look in their eyes.
survivors.
“junghan won’t come alone,” seungkwan said. “purifiers never do.”
“how long do we have?” you asked quietly.
seungkwan tilted his head, listening— not to the room, but to something far away. the air hummed faintly, like a distant storm pressing its ear to the city.
“hours,” he said finally. “maybe less.”
mingyu tightened his grip on your hand. you could feel the tremor in him now— not fear for himself, but for you.
“then we move,” seungcheol said. “we fortify, we scatter civilians, we hide her.”
something like approval crossed seungkwan’s face. “yeah,” he said. “you’ll fit just right in.”
—
act III. the afterlight society
across the room, seungkwan paced, counting. supplies. people. time. none of it enough.
“junghan will strike at dawn,” he said. “purifiers always like dawn. symbolism.”
“how many?” someone asked.
“enough.” seungcheol answered, checking the edge of his blade. sharp. the weapon that followed him from heaven till even now.
your stomach twisted.
“purifiers don’t come to negotiate,” seungcheol continued. “they come to cleanse. they’ll start with the outer wards, burn through anything that moves, and call it mercy.”
a low murmur rippled through the fallen.
mingyu’s jaw clenched. “junghan won’t stop until he has her.”
seungcheol slid the blade back into its sheath with a soft click. “then he won’t stop at all.”
you felt it again— that pressure in your chest, like the world leaning in too close.
“what’s the plan?” you asked quietly.
seungkwan stopped pacing. “we buy time,” he said. “we scatter. we misdirect.”
seungcheol’s gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. “and you focus on staying alive.”
the lights flickered overhead.
outside, the sky began to pale— too early, too wrong.
dawn was coming.
—
dawn never fully broke.
the sky split with streaks of gold that felt wrong, invasive, as the first purifier descended without sound.
then another.
then a dozen more, wings slicing through the air like blades. the ground trembled as they landed in a loose semicircle outside the pizzeria, holy sigils burning into cracked asphalt.
junghan stepped forward last. his wings were immaculate. unburned. unscarred. mercy made flesh.
“fallen,” he called, voice carrying without effort. “step aside.”
no one moved.
seungcheol’s blade hummed low. wards flared. the air thickened until breathing hurt.
mingyu stood in front of you, wings spread despite the pain, feathers dark as storm clouds.
“this ends now,” junghan said, gaze locking onto you. “hand over the nephilim and none of you will need to get hurt.”
“no,” mingyu replied.
a beat.
then the sky screamed.
light cracked downward— warning shots, as seungkwan would call them later. asphalt split. windows shattered. one fallen went to their knees, gasping.
you cried out, instinct flaring— and the ground answered.
the tremor rippled outward, stopping just short of the angels’ feet.
everything froze.
junghan’s expression changed— not anger. interest.
“you see?” one angel murmured. “she’s already unstable.”
mingyu felt it then— how the pressure around you eased the moment he stepped closer, how the air stilled when his hand found yours.
junghan noticed too. “…fascinating,” he said quietly. “your presence dampens her.”
seungkwan sucked in a breath. “cancelation,” he muttered. “angelic resonance.”
a theory whispered in forbidden texts.
nephilim in the presence of an angel— balanced.
junghan raised a hand. the purifiers halted.
“very well,” he said. “let us speak. we do not want any more divine blood going to waste.”
—
the pact was carved into the air itself. not written. bound.
light burned sigils into the ground between heaven and the fallen, each symbol sealing with a sound like bone snapping.
“the nephilim remains on earth,” junghan intoned. “under the sole protection of angel mingyu, now fallen.”
mingyu stiffened.
“should she cause harm to earth, to humanity, or to the balance,” junghan continued, eyes never leaving you, “the fallen will surrender her without resistance.”
your chest tightened.
“mingyu will be bound to her,” junghan said. “her presence will be tempered by his. his existence tethered by hers.”
you turned to him, horror and relief tangling.
“this is not mercy,” junghan finished calmly. “this is containment.”
seungcheol stepped forward. “and if heaven breaks the pact?”
junghan smiled.
“then god will hear of it.”
the light receded.
the purifiers lifted back into the sky, dawn finally bleeding through the clouds like a wound closing.
war was avoided.
but only barely.
mingyu never let go of your hand.
not when the angels vanished.
not when the wards fell silent.
not when the afterlight society exhaled as one.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered.
he shook his head, forehead resting against yours. “don’t be.” his wings twitched, fully dark now.
mingyu finally pulled back enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles—checking, grounding. “do you feel different?”
you nodded. “quieter,” you said. “like the world stopped shouting at me.”
his shoulders sagged with relief. “it’s the bond. if you feel afraid, i’ll feel it too. if you get hurt, i’ll know it too.”
you swallowed. “that doesn’t sound fair.”
a corner of his mouth lifted, just barely. “heaven was never fair.”
his thumb traced a small, unconscious circle over your knuckles, like he was memorizing the shape of your hand. grounding himself. “it goes both ways,” he added. “if i lose control… if the dark pulls too hard—”
“i’ll be there,” you said immediately.
he looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was trying to reconcile the weight of eternity with the warmth of now. “that’s what scares me,” he admitted softly. “you shouldn’t have to carry me too.”
you stepped closer, forehead brushing his again. you squeezed his hand. “you’re the only reason they didn’t take me.”
“then i’ll stay,” mingyu said. not a vow. a fact. “however long you need me.”
—
bonus scene:
the pizzeria looked… lived in.
not fixed— never fixed— but warmer. wards etched into the walls glowed faintly beneath layers of old posters and string lights someone had stolen from a closed-down café. tables were pushed together now, mismatched chairs crowded around them.
home, in its own crooked way.
you slipped inside with mingyu, his hand still instinctively finding yours as the door shut behind you. the bond hummed— quiet, familiar. it had been six months since the pact with heaven. six months of peace. with mingyu.
both of you had managed to settle down in a cabin at the edge of the woods. calm, peaceful, home.
“wow,” you murmured. “we really came back here.”
“we always do,” seungkwan said from behind the counter. “trauma bonding spot.”
seungcheol leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching everyone arrive like he was counting heads out of habit.
“okay, but hear me out,” seokmin announced, waving his phone in the air. “i’m starving.”
seungkwan squinted. “don’t you dare.”
“i already did.”
there was a beat of silence.
“…you ordered pizza?” chan asked.
seokmin nodded proudly. “yep. large. extra cheese. pepperoni. a classic.”
mingyu blinked. “from where.”
seokmin grinned. “the place three blocks down.”
you stared at him. “this is literally a pizza shop.”
“exactly!” he said, delighted. “the pizza delivery guy is gonna be so freaked out when he finds out he’s delivering pizza to another pizza store.”
you huffed out a laugh.
seungkwan groaned. “we survived heaven’s wrath just to die of embarrassment.”
mingyu leaned toward you, voice low. “is this what peace looks like?”
you smiled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. “i think this is what living looks like.”
a knock echoed at the door.
everyone froze.
seungcheol sighed. “if that’s junghan—”
seokmin sprinted past him. “if it’s junghan, he better have my pepperoni pizza.”
the door opened.
a very normal, very human delivery guy stood there, blinking at the neon sign, the run-down interior, the wings— half-hidden but not enough.
“…uh,” he said slowly. “did i get the wrong address?”
seokmin beamed. “nope! you’re at the right place. perfect timing.”
he took the pizzas. tipped generously.
and as the door shut again, sealing in warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of the afterlight society, mingyu squeezed your hand. “i’m glad everything led me to you.”
“i wouldn’t trade this for anything else.” you smiled.
a/n: i finally finished it after a super long time! i’ve always loved this idea so i’m so glad i was able to sit down and finish it.
nephilims. an abomination to mankind and angels alike. nephilims were volatile, dangerous even. neither human nor angel, they were never supposed to exist. so when the department of strange occurrences sent one of their angels down to the earth to investigate, things are not as they seem.
act I.
there was a theory where a nephilim in the presence of an angel wouldn't be as volatile as their powers cancelled each other out.
“did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” you asked kim mingyu, nudging him with your elbow to get his attention.
he looked at you, his mouth agape in offence. “mind you. i didn’t fall, i flew down.”
“uh-huh.” you nodded unconvincingly.
“plus, i came here for business purposes so…”
“so?” you asked as he didn’t continue.
“i should get going.” he finished, standing up from the park bench to go who knows where.
it was mingyu’s first time meeting, let alone talking to a human, and what weird creatures he thinks they are. having being sent by the superiors running the department of strange occurrences in heaven, he was tasked to investigate about the strange occurrences (as stated) happening in the town of fairville. though he wondered if the strange things were just normalcy for the strange humans. he did learn about them from the previous reports from his and the other departments, but seeing one up close was totally different.
“hey!” you called out, jogging lightly to catch up with his pace.
“what?” he asked, stopping abruptly, causing you to bump head first into his back.
you squeezed your eyes shut, rubbing your head at the sudden impact. are all angels made out of steel?
“the thing you asked about just now. i don’t know why you angels want nets and silver bullets, apparently not for catching werewolves, but i know a place where you can get them.” you said, the pain from the sudden impact earlier subsiding.
“huh.” mingyu looked at you, curiosity piqued. “werewolves aren’t real.” he stated.
“twilight says otherwise.” you shrugged.
“who’s twilight?” he asked, confused.
you shook your head, walking to the direction of the nearest subway. “right. forget what i just said. since i have some time to spare, let’s head over to uncle kim’s shop right now, you coming?”
—-
“granduncle kim!” you shouted as soon as you stepped into the vintage shop making your way to the backroom with mingyu right behind you.
your granduncle looked up from the mechanical watch he was tinkering, his eyes lighting up when his gaze fell on you.
he stood up from his worktable, walking over to you. “it’s good to see you, dear.”
his eyes landed on mingyu behind you, who was busy looking at the picture frames on the cabinet. “who are you? why aren’t you with seungcheol?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and directing his question to mingyu.
“right. about that.” you pulled mingyu’s arm towards you. “he’s mingyu. a friend i just met. and seungcheol is busy with school.”
“and you’re not?” granduncle asked.
you smiled sheepishly. “i was. but i took a short break.”
he raised his eyebrow.
“anyways.” you continued. “mingyu here needs some things, and i thought we could help him out.” you nudged mingyu to go forward.
mingyu flashed a charming smile, one that would make even cinderella’s prince charming jealous. “hello, it’s nice to meet you, granduncle. y/n here told me you would have some spare nets and silver bullets lying around?”
but it looked like his charm did not move your granduncle even a bit. your granduncle nodded. “they were in the attic the last time i checked. take anything you want. haven’t touched them in years.” he grumbled, going back to sit by his worktable.
“let’s go!” you whispered, tugging mingyu along to a bare part of the storeroom that looks untouched.
he looked around the empty room, confused. “what… are we doing here?”
you squinted before pointing towards the ceiling. “there. thank god that he made you angels tall. if you could just pull that little tab over there…”
mingyu’s eyes trailed to where you were pointing and reached out, his fingers just brushing the tab. “you mean this one?” he confirmed.
you nodded. as soon as he pulled the tab, a wooden ladder rolled down, sending heaps of dust flying everywhere.
“after you.” mingyu said, gesturing towards the ladder.
you climbed, pulling yourself up to the attic. there were boxes piled onto each other, the thick layer of dust evident of neglect. you lifted up the lid of the box closest to you to find photo albums stacked against each other. you flipped them open to see two unfamiliar faces that looked like they were in the town of fairville decades ago. you solemnly looked through the pictures, noting how in love they looked. the small pendant hanging on the woman’s neck caught your eye, seeing how familiar it looked to yours.
“what are you looking at?” mingyu asked, taking a peek over your shoulder.
you shook your head. “i don’t know why granduncle still keeps all these photo albums here. as far as i know, my birth parents passed away in a fire.” you shut the photo album, turning to look at mingyu. “have you found what you’re looking for?”
he nodded. “it’s all in the box right here. any other boxes you want to check out?”
“nah, it’s okay. we just came for those anyway.” you said, heading towards the ladder. “though… you still haven’t told me what you angels are hunting.”
“well, it’s neither human nor angel.” he answered curtly.
“okay…” you dragged out, making your way down with him following right behind you. you made your way out of the shop, following mingyu to god knows where, the cardboard box looking tiny in his arms.
“well… can you at least tell me where we're going?”
“uh-uh. not we. it's way too dangerous.” he said, falling into pace with you.
“i can handle it. plus, you don't know how the human world works.”
he shook his head. “it's not right for an angel to risk a human’s life.”
“you're not risking my life. i’m doing it myself. i promise to run at the first sign of danger.” you countered. you see mingyu squinting at a paper, his eyebrows scrunched into a frown.
“it's an address.” you explained, glancing at the paper. “see? you need help.”
“fine.” he sighed. “but you leave when it gets too dangerous.” he added.
“deal.”
—-
“it literally says we’re at the right place. but why does it look like we aren't?” you asked, raising your eyebrows while checking over the map again. the address brought you both to a night club named the pandemonium.
“y/n-ah, it's a front for anything supernatural. deals. information. anything a supernatural would need.” mingyu explained, walking up to the bouncers with you following closely behind.
the two bouncers guarding the door looked anything but human. one had eyes that glowed faintly amber when the light hit, the other’s shadow didn’t quite match his body.
“password?” the taller one rumbled, his voice vibrating in his chest.
mingyu didn’t hesitate. “de lumine cadentem.”
for a moment, the air between them shimmered—like heat rising from asphalt—and then the bouncer stepped aside.
“angels,” the shorter one muttered under his breath, as if it was a slur.
you swallowed, gripping mingyu’s sleeve as he pushed the door open. the inside was a blur of color and chaos: glowing sigils scrawled on the walls, creatures you’d only seen in myths lounging on velvet couches, laughter that didn’t sound entirely human.
you leaned closer to mingyu. “this… doesn’t look like a place angels are welcome.”
“we’re not,” he replied quietly, eyes scanning the crowd. “that’s why we don’t stay long.”
and as he said that, something across the room shifted—a ripple of awareness, eyes turning toward you both like sharks scenting blood.
mingyu didn’t slow down as you weaved through the crowd, brushing past creatures that looked human until you caught the glint of something—fangs, claws, eyes that glowed too bright.
you tried to keep your voice casual. “so. who exactly are we here to see?”
“someone who owes heaven a favor,” mingyu said simply.
“you sound like a tax collector.”
“in a way, i am.”
he led you past a velvet curtain at the back, the music fading into a low hum as the hallway narrowed. the walls here were lined with mirrors—cracked and distorted. your reflection blurred every few seconds, like it couldn’t decide if it was you.
“don’t look too long,” mingyu murmured.
you averted your eyes immediately. “good to know.”
finally, he stopped in front of a door marked with a single sigil—burned into the wood, pulsing faintly red. he raised a hand, hesitated for half a beat, then knocked once.
it opened by itself.
the room beyond was dimly lit, filled with smoke and the scent of iron. behind a desk sat a figure— elegant, sharp, their smile too smooth to be comforting.
“kim mingyu,” the figure drawled. “i thought heaven stopped sending pretty boys for collection work.”
mingyu’s jaw tightened. “hello to you too, myeongho.”
myeongho leaned back in his chair, one leg crossing over the other as he regarded you both. “and who’s this? your new partner?”
his eyes slid to you, and you felt the air shift, heavier somehow.
mingyu’s hand came to rest lightly on your arm. “she’s with me.”
“that much i gathered,” myeongho said, lips curving. “but why? a human, at that.”
the question hung there.
“business,” mingyu said shortly.
myeongho’s smirk didn’t falter. “everything’s business with heaven. debts, promises, souls…” he tapped the desk idly with a black-gloved finger. “but i didn’t think you would come crawling back, mingyu. what’s the matter? your golden leash too tight?”
you saw mingyu’s wings flicker faintly behind him—just a shimmer of light, restrained fury.
“i’m not here to argue,” he said. “i’m here for information.”
“about?”
“the nephilim.”
myeongho stilled. for a heartbeat, even the smoke in the room seemed to freeze.
then, very slowly, he smiled. “ah. so that’s why heaven sent you.” his gaze drifted to you again. “they must be getting desperate.”
you shifted under his scrutiny. “what do you know about them?”
myeongho chuckled, low and dangerous. “enough to know that heaven’s been hunting the wrong kind.”
myeongho tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curving in amusement. “straight lines are boring,” he said lazily, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. “and besides, truth rarely travels in them.”
mingyu took a step forward, his voice low. “i didn’t come here for riddles.”
“oh, but heaven loves riddles, doesn’t it?” myeongho countered, eyes glinting. “orders dressed as prayers, justice dressed as mercy. tell me, mingyu—did they even tell you why you’re here?”
mingyu’s silence was answer enough.
“i thought so.” myeongho leaned back, his wings—sleek and gray like storm clouds—unfolding just enough to catch the dim light. “you angels never question. always so eager to serve. but this time…” his gaze drifted to you, slow and deliberate. “this time, you’re chasing a ghost.”
your throat went dry. “a ghost?”
“a name. a myth. the nephilim,” myeongho said. “heaven believes they’re the root of every tremor, every dark omen lately. but what they don’t tell their soldiers—” his eyes flicked back to mingyu “—is that their precious half-bloods were never meant to die out.”
myeongho crossed his arms. “you came here for answers. so all i’m going to tell you is this— what you’re searching for might be closer than you think.”
—-
you followed him out of the backroom, the heavy door shutting behind you with a hiss that sounded far too final. the music of the club hit again—low bass, distorted voices, laughter that didn’t sound quite human.
“he was just absolutely helpful,” mingyu muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“uh-huh.” you tugged at his sleeve. “so, in angel language, that means ‘we hit a dead end’ right?”
“not exactly. he just confirmed that what we’re looking for is in—“ mingyu stopped mid-step, his hand darting out to pull you closer as something sharp whizzed past your head, embedding into the wall behind you with a metallic thunk.
you froze. “what the hell—”
“eyes down,” he hissed, already moving. “we’ve got company. raiders.”
“what?” your voice came out higher than you meant, the air thick with smoke and neon light.
“rogues,” he said quickly, tugging you toward a side corridor. “mercenaries who hunt divine energy. they’ll sell an angel’s grace—or something close—to the highest bidder. we need to get out of here. fast.”
something exploded near the entrance, the shockwave knocking you off balance. mingyu caught you before you hit the ground, his arm curling around you protectively as a pulse of light rippled through the corridor.
“holy fire,” he cursed, his voice a low growl. “where did they get those blessed weapons?”
you looked at him, heart hammering. “is it that bad?”
“only if you enjoy disintegration.”
the sound of wings—harsh and heavy—filled the air, and mingyu swore under his breath. “damn it.” he turned to you, eyes glowing faintly now, a divine shimmer breaking through his disguise. “we’re not getting out the front.”
he grabbed a small pendant from his pocket and pressed it into your hand, the metal hot against your skin. “this’ll keep you hidden for a few seconds. when I say run—”
“you say run a lot, you know that?”
“and yet you never do it.”
the corner of his mouth twitched—barely a smile—before his wings burst free, ivory and blinding even in the dim red light of the club. the air around you vibrated with raw power as he turned to face the shadows closing in.
you stared, momentarily speechless. “you— you can’t just—”
“now!” he shouted, hurling a wave of light down the hall.
and you ran.
you sprinted past shattered mirrors and overturned tables, clutching the pendant tight as heat seared the air behind you. through the chaos you heard mingyu—fighting, each clash ringing with something celestial and furious.
you didn’t look back. not until the world tilted, your vision pulsing white, and the last thing you heard before darkness took you was mingyu’s voice calling your name.
—-
“seungcheol?” you asked tiredly, sitting up slowly despite every muscle in your body protesting. “how— what happened?”
his head snapped up from where he was crouched near the doorway, a faint golden shimmer fading from his hands. “easy,” he said, crossing to you quickly. “don’t move too fast.”
you stared at his hands, at where the glow once was. “you’re… an angel too, aren’t you?”
“was.”
you blinked at him, still dazed. “you mean… like mingyu?”
a flicker crossed his expression at the name, something like irritation tangled with worry. “not like him,” seungcheol said softly. “not anymore.”
you frowned, trying to piece together what happened, why your body ached as if every nerve had been scorched. “then what are you?”
he gave a small, almost rueful smile. “fallen,” he said simply. “the polite term for exiled.”
your breath caught. “heaven threw you out?”
“i left before they could.” he lowered himself to sit beside the bed— close enough that the faint warmth of him reached you. “they don’t take kindly to angels who question orders.”
you let out a breath you were holding. “does granduncle kim know? that you’re a fallen?”
seungcheol nodded. “he does.” seungcheol said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “he’s the one who found me after i left.”
you blinked, processing that. “and he didn’t… turn you in?”
a small huff of amusement left him. “heaven stopped trusting me long before that. besides, your granduncle has his own secrets—he knows how to keep one.”
“so he knew,” you murmured, sinking back against the thin pillow, exhaustion pulling at you in slow waves. “all this time?”
seungcheol nodded once. “all this time.”
you let that settle, the crackle of the fire filling the silence between you. then, your voice came out quieter—fragile in a way you didn’t intend:
“what happened to mingyu?”
seungcheol froze with dread. like he’d been waiting for that question and hoping you were too tired to ask it.
his jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low. careful.
“heaven recalled him.”
your fingers curled into the blanket. “recalled…? as in—”
“dragged,” seungcheol corrected gently. “he didn’t go willingly.”
your heart lurched painfully. “why? he didn’t do anything wrong—he was just protecting—”
“you,” he finished for you, looking at you with something heavy and knowing. “that was the problem.”
your breath hitched.
“y/n. you’re the nephilim heaven sent mingyu to look for.”
you stared at him, your mouth parting soundlessly.
“no,” you breathed out, unbelievable , a laugh slipping from you. “no, that… that’s not—seungcheol, that’s impossible. you know me. i grew up in fairville. i’m.. i’m just—”
“human?” he supplied softly.
you nodded, desperate. “yes. exactly. i’m human.”
but he only looked at you with that same steady, unbearable calm— like he had already watched you try to outrun this truth in ten different lifetimes.
“then why,” he asked quietly, “did the sky split open when you were terrified in that alley ten years ago?”
your stomach dropped. “maybe, that was just a coincidence!”
“then, why did the rain stop the moment mingyu held onto you? why did your body survive an attack that would’ve torn a human apart?”
you shook your head. “that doesn’t prove anything, seungcheol. not—“
“your mother,” seungcheol said softly, and your words died in your throat.
you looked up sharply.
his expression changed—gentler, sadder, carrying a weight he’d been holding alone for too long.
“y/n… she wasn’t just some runaway angel who fell in love with a mortal.”
your hands trembled.
“she was powerful. powerful enough that heaven marked her children as threats the moment they existed.”
a beat.
“you weren’t supposed to survive the night she died.”
your heart squeezed painfully, breath coming too fast, too thin.
“stop,” you whispered. “please—stop.”
seungcheol leaned forward, voice soft but unyielding.
“you asked what happened to mingyu.” he paused. “this is what happened. he found the nephilim he was sent to hunt. and he chose to protect you instead.”
it was then you realised. they were never raiders. and you still remember the panic in mingyu’s eyes when he gave you the pendant and told you to run.
“he knew?”you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “mingyu… knew what i was?”
seungcheol looked at you, voice certain. “not at first. but when he realized the truth… he didn’t hesitate.”
he paused.
“he chose you over heaven.”
—-
lying was a sin.
mingyu knew that.
he was a perfect student. the doctrines engraved into his head since day one: angels do not lie. angels do not deceive. angels must always follow the rule of heaven.
but he had lied. betrayed the trust of heaven. strayed away from his mission, his purpose. and the worst thing was, he would do it all over again if it meant that you were safe. and that was the problem: angels weren’t supposed to care. or have emotions— in excess.
and now, he felt the consequences in the most terrifying way an angel could: his wings were dimming.
and in heaven, that was the first sign of corruption.
“angel mingyu,” one of the higher ups spoke, his voice cold, official. “you abandoned your assignment.”
“you never told me she was the nephilim.” mingyu replied steadily. any ounce of emotion would put you and him in even more danger.
a ripple passed through the council circle, feathers rustling like a warning.
“that information was withheld for a reason,” another angel said, tone hardening. “your job was to locate and report. nothing more.”
“i followed protocol—“
“do you think we’re fools, angel?” another voice boomed. “do you think we don’t know that you interfered with our retrieval?”
he didn’t reply. couldn’t.
“the council deems you are compromised,” the presiding angel said. “the nephilim is a threat—an anomaly born of disobedience. she should not exist.”
“she is innocent.”
“is she?” the presiding angel asked. “the fact that she exists, is an abomination.a forbidden child— born of a human and an angel who disobeyed heaven. an act that has condemned entire legions before.”
“what will you do,” the presiding angel continued, voice rising, “when her awakening brings armageddon to us all?”
mingyu’s breath faltered.
“i—”
“you have no answer,” the presider said sharply. “because you are blinded.”
light surged beneath mingyu’s feet, tightening around him like shackles, his wings dimming yet another shade.
“angel mingyu,” the presider declared, “for negligence, deception, and emotional compromise—”
the words echoed across the marble chamber, final and merciless.
“—you are hereby sentenced to confinement.”
his pulse stopped.
“your wings will be restrained,” another elder added. “your grace sealed until we determine whether you can be purified.”
one of the angels leaned in coldly.
“perhaps confinement will remind you of your purpose.”
the chains, made of light and pure grace, wrapped around the base of mingyu’s wings. and the moment it tightened, mingyu choked on a strangled breath.
heaven was binding him.
disabling him.
reminding him why he shouldn’t go against his orders.
mingyu swallowed hard, vision blurring.
“and her?” he rasped. “y/n?”
the presider’s expression did not change.
“the nephilim will be dealt with.”
“what—”
“someone has already been sent to retrieve her,” another said. “an angel who does not question, does not hesitate, and does not… feel.”
mingyu’s blood ran cold.
he knew exactly who they meant.
“no,” he whispered.
the chains tightened.
“junghan.”
—-
act II.
the fallen are no longer beings of heaven.
mingyu knew that the only way out was down.
to fall.
heaven had designed confinement as a place where one couldn’t even tell how time passes, a place where one couldn’t even think.
and he knew, the longer he stayed, the more he would lose himself, lose the memories of you. and he would rather fall than lose you.
your voice.
your laugh.
the way you smiled.
he closed his eyes. he knew that if he chose to fall, he could never return to the heaven realm. his grace would be stripped. wings burned.
yet, if he didn’t. he might not be able to return to you.
he breathed deeply, and with a voice barely above a whisper, he chose. “i fall.”
the word left his lips like a prayer heaven would never accept.
for a moment, nothing happened.
then the world cracked.
light splintered across the empty white void of confinement. his wings burned brightly against the sky, as gravity dragged him back down. and in his final moment between heaven and earth, as the last remnants of his divinity burned away, mingyu made one last silent prayer:
please let me fall to her.
—
the impact shook the earth.
not enough to create a crater, no, heaven had stripped him of almost all of his divinity, but enough for every fallen within a ten-kilometer radius to snap their heads up.
including seungcheol.
you stiffened where you sat on the cracked leather booth of the abandoned pizzeria, where the fallen had chosen to set up their base, their shelter, or their meeting spot, as one would call it.
“what was that?” you whispered.
seungcheol’s brows furrowed, but before he could answer, the ground rumbled a second time. he rose immediately, wings flaring out in instinct, black and sharp like carved obsidian.
“stay behind me.” he ordered.
“cheol—”
“please.”
you swallowed your argument. you followed seungcheol as he stepped out the front door of the pizzeria cautiously, your hands lighting gripping the back of seungcheol’s coat as his wings half-unfurled in tense instinct.
and then you saw it.
your breath hitched. mingyu lay crumpled on the ground, his breath shallow and uneven. but his wings, his once pure white wings were now black, not soft obsidian like seungcheol’s, but freshly burned, edges still smoking, feathers brittle and cracked like molten glass cooling too fast.
“no…” you whispered, stepping past seungcheol before he could stop you.
you knelt beside mingyu, hands trembling as you reached out—but you didn’t touch him, afraid one wrong move would hurt him more.
“mingyu?” your voice shook.
his fingers twitched.
he tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out. the second he shifted, the wings dragged across the ground with a fragile, agonizing scrape.
you flinched.
he flinched harder.
“y/n…” he rasped, eyes barely opening. “don’t— touch— wings… hurts…”
your heart cracked.
behind you, seungcheol finally exhaled.
“he’s lucky he landed here. we need to get him inside,” he said, voice low with urgency. “the fall stripped most of his grace— he won’t last long out here.”
you turned to him, realizing this wasn’t shock in his voice.
it was familiarity.
seungcheol had fallen too.
he knew exactly what mingyu was going through.
you looked at mingyu again— your chest tightening at the sight of those blackened wings, the way he shook from the effort of just breathing.
you slid your hand into his gently.
“mingyu,” you whispered, “we’re taking you home.”
and for the first time since he crashed onto earth, he let himself lean into you completely.
—-
mingyu woke up choking on air that felt too heavy for his lungs.
his eyes flew open, wings jerking instinctively, before a burst of pain ripped through his back.
“mingyu— hey, hey, don’t move,” you said quickly, hands hovering, panic sharp in your chest. “please.”
recognition flashed through his eyes and his breathing stuttered, slowly, he went still.
the room was dim, lit only by flickering fluorescent lights and a few candles scattered across overturned tables. cracked tiles. old posters peeling off the walls— seokmin’s pepperoni pizza still smiling down like it didn’t know the impending doom that was coming.
an abandoned pizzeria.
memory flooded back all at once.
heaven.
confinement.
the fall.
you.
his gaze snapped to you.
“y/n,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “you’re—”
“i’m here,” you said immediately. “you’re safe. as safe as you can be.”
he swallowed hard. “we don’t have time,” he said, trying to sit up again. the searing pain forced a sharp inhale, but he pushed through it. “they sent junghan.”
seungcheol, leaning against the counter nearby, straightened and cursed. “of course they did.” seungcheol muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
mingyu turned to him, recognition flashing. “fallen.”
“exiled.” seungcheol corrected. “by choice. same as you now.”
mingyu’s jaw tightened. “then you know what sending him means.”
“yes,” seungcheol said. “war.”
the word settled like ash in the room.
mingyu’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric of the couch beneath him. “junghan doesn’t get sent unless the council wants an example made. he’s a purifier. he doesn’t negotiate.”
seungcheol nodded once. “heaven’s message is simple,” he said. “return the nephilim. execute the fallen. erase the rest.”
mingyu looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in his expression fractured. “they’ll burn this place to the ground,” he murmured. “and everyone in it.”
as if summoned by his words, footsteps echoed from the back hallway.
you tensed.
but instead of angels, figures emerged from the shadows.
they all stopped when they saw mingyu.
“new fall,” someone muttered.
the one with the ash-gray wings stepped closer, gaze sharp but not unkind. “you survived a clean burn.”
“barely,” mingyu replied.
he nodded once. “then you’re strong. or stupid.”
“both,” seungcheol said flatly.
his eyes flicked to you then, narrowing. “and that must be why heaven’s throwing a tantrum.”
the room shifted.
every fallen in the pizzeria looked at you.
mingyu reached for your hand without thinking, his grip firm despite the pain. “she’s under my protection,” he said, voice steady.
the one with the ash-gray wings, who you now know as seungkwan let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face like he was already exhausted by the future.
“welcome,” he said dryly, “to the afterlight society.”
you blinked. “that’s… ominous.”
“we workshopped it,” someone chirped from the back. “it was either that or the burnt wing collective. i’m seokmin, by the way.”
“no one was going to take us seriously if we went with that,” seungkwan shot back.
despite yourself, a weak huff of laughter slipped out of you— brief, disbelieving. the sound felt wrong in a place like this. like laughing in a graveyard.
mingyu glanced at you, a small smile at the corner of his lips.
“we’re what’s left,” seungkwan continued, tone sobering. “angels who chose wrong. asked too many questions. loved the wrong people.”
his eyes flicked to mingyu’s wings, still trembling faintly, feathers darkened at the edges. “or fell for them.”
the fallen shifted around the room, some leaning against counters, others sitting on upturned crates. they were all different— scars, burns, wings in various states of ruin, but they shared the same look in their eyes.
survivors.
“junghan won’t come alone,” seungkwan said. “purifiers never do.”
“how long do we have?” you asked quietly.
seungkwan tilted his head, listening— not to the room, but to something far away. the air hummed faintly, like a distant storm pressing its ear to the city.
“hours,” he said finally. “maybe less.”
mingyu tightened his grip on your hand. you could feel the tremor in him now— not fear for himself, but for you.
“then we move,” seungcheol said. “we fortify, we scatter civilians, we hide her.”
something like approval crossed seungkwan’s face. “yeah,” he said. “you’ll fit just right in.”
—
act III. the afterlight society
across the room, seungkwan paced, counting. supplies. people. time. none of it enough.
“junghan will strike at dawn,” he said. “purifiers always like dawn. symbolism.”
“how many?” someone asked.
“enough.” seungcheol answered, checking the edge of his blade. sharp. the weapon that followed him from heaven till even now.
your stomach twisted.
“purifiers don’t come to negotiate,” seungcheol continued. “they come to cleanse. they’ll start with the outer wards, burn through anything that moves, and call it mercy.”
a low murmur rippled through the fallen.
mingyu’s jaw clenched. “junghan won’t stop until he has her.”
seungcheol slid the blade back into its sheath with a soft click. “then he won’t stop at all.”
you felt it again— that pressure in your chest, like the world leaning in too close.
“what’s the plan?” you asked quietly.
seungkwan stopped pacing. “we buy time,” he said. “we scatter. we misdirect.”
seungcheol’s gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. “and you focus on staying alive.”
the lights flickered overhead.
outside, the sky began to pale— too early, too wrong.
dawn was coming.
—
dawn never fully broke.
the sky split with streaks of gold that felt wrong, invasive, as the first purifier descended without sound.
then another.
then a dozen more, wings slicing through the air like blades. the ground trembled as they landed in a loose semicircle outside the pizzeria, holy sigils burning into cracked asphalt.
junghan stepped forward last. his wings were immaculate. unburned. unscarred. mercy made flesh.
“fallen,” he called, voice carrying without effort. “step aside.”
no one moved.
seungcheol’s blade hummed low. wards flared. the air thickened until breathing hurt.
mingyu stood in front of you, wings spread despite the pain, feathers dark as storm clouds.
“this ends now,” junghan said, gaze locking onto you. “hand over the nephilim and none of you will need to get hurt.”
“no,” mingyu replied.
a beat.
then the sky screamed.
light cracked downward— warning shots, as seungkwan would call them later. asphalt split. windows shattered. one fallen went to their knees, gasping.
you cried out, instinct flaring— and the ground answered.
the tremor rippled outward, stopping just short of the angels’ feet.
everything froze.
junghan’s expression changed— not anger. interest.
“you see?” one angel murmured. “she’s already unstable.”
mingyu felt it then— how the pressure around you eased the moment he stepped closer, how the air stilled when his hand found yours.
junghan noticed too. “…fascinating,” he said quietly. “your presence dampens her.”
seungkwan sucked in a breath. “cancelation,” he muttered. “angelic resonance.”
a theory whispered in forbidden texts.
nephilim in the presence of an angel— balanced.
junghan raised a hand. the purifiers halted.
“very well,” he said. “let us speak. we do not want any more divine blood going to waste.”
—
the pact was carved into the air itself. not written. bound.
light burned sigils into the ground between heaven and the fallen, each symbol sealing with a sound like bone snapping.
“the nephilim remains on earth,” junghan intoned. “under the sole protection of angel mingyu, now fallen.”
mingyu stiffened.
“should she cause harm to earth, to humanity, or to the balance,” junghan continued, eyes never leaving you, “the fallen will surrender her without resistance.”
your chest tightened.
“mingyu will be bound to her,” junghan said. “her presence will be tempered by his. his existence tethered by hers.”
you turned to him, horror and relief tangling.
“this is not mercy,” junghan finished calmly. “this is containment.”
seungcheol stepped forward. “and if heaven breaks the pact?”
junghan smiled.
“then god will hear of it.”
the light receded.
the purifiers lifted back into the sky, dawn finally bleeding through the clouds like a wound closing.
war was avoided.
but only barely.
mingyu never let go of your hand.
not when the angels vanished.
not when the wards fell silent.
not when the afterlight society exhaled as one.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered.
he shook his head, forehead resting against yours. “don’t be.” his wings twitched, fully dark now.
mingyu finally pulled back enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles—checking, grounding. “do you feel different?”
you nodded. “quieter,” you said. “like the world stopped shouting at me.”
his shoulders sagged with relief. “it’s the bond. if you feel afraid, i’ll feel it too. if you get hurt, i’ll know it too.”
you swallowed. “that doesn’t sound fair.”
a corner of his mouth lifted, just barely. “heaven was never fair.”
his thumb traced a small, unconscious circle over your knuckles, like he was memorizing the shape of your hand. grounding himself. “it goes both ways,” he added. “if i lose control… if the dark pulls too hard—”
“i’ll be there,” you said immediately.
he looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was trying to reconcile the weight of eternity with the warmth of now. “that’s what scares me,” he admitted softly. “you shouldn’t have to carry me too.”
you stepped closer, forehead brushing his again. you squeezed his hand. “you’re the only reason they didn’t take me.”
“then i’ll stay,” mingyu said. not a vow. a fact. “however long you need me.”
—
bonus scene:
the pizzeria looked… lived in.
not fixed— never fixed— but warmer. wards etched into the walls glowed faintly beneath layers of old posters and string lights someone had stolen from a closed-down café. tables were pushed together now, mismatched chairs crowded around them.
home, in its own crooked way.
you slipped inside with mingyu, his hand still instinctively finding yours as the door shut behind you. the bond hummed— quiet, familiar. it had been six months since the pact with heaven. six months of peace. with mingyu.
both of you had managed to settle down in a cabin at the edge of the woods. calm, peaceful, home.
“wow,” you murmured. “we really came back here.”
“we always do,” seungkwan said from behind the counter. “trauma bonding spot.”
seungcheol leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching everyone arrive like he was counting heads out of habit.
“okay, but hear me out,” seokmin announced, waving his phone in the air. “i’m starving.”
seungkwan squinted. “don’t you dare.”
“i already did.”
there was a beat of silence.
“…you ordered pizza?” chan asked.
seokmin nodded proudly. “yep. large. extra cheese. pepperoni. a classic.”
mingyu blinked. “from where.”
seokmin grinned. “the place three blocks down.”
you stared at him. “this is literally a pizza shop.”
“exactly!” he said, delighted. “the pizza delivery guy is gonna be so freaked out when he finds out he’s delivering pizza to another pizza store.”
you huffed out a laugh.
seungkwan groaned. “we survived heaven’s wrath just to die of embarrassment.”
mingyu leaned toward you, voice low. “is this what peace looks like?”
you smiled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. “i think this is what living looks like.”
a knock echoed at the door.
everyone froze.
seungcheol sighed. “if that’s junghan—”
seokmin sprinted past him. “if it’s junghan, he better have my pepperoni pizza.”
the door opened.
a very normal, very human delivery guy stood there, blinking at the neon sign, the run-down interior, the wings— half-hidden but not enough.
“…uh,” he said slowly. “did i get the wrong address?”
seokmin beamed. “nope! you’re at the right place. perfect timing.”
he took the pizzas. tipped generously.
and as the door shut again, sealing in warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of the afterlight society, mingyu squeezed your hand. “i’m glad everything led me to you.”
“i wouldn’t trade this for anything else.” you smiled.
a/n: i finally finished it after a super long time! i’ve always loved this idea so i’m so glad i was able to sit down and finish it.
nephilims. an abomination to mankind and angels alike. nephilims were volatile, dangerous even. neither human nor angel, they were never supposed to exist. so when the department of strange occurrences sent one of their angels down to the earth to investigate, things are not as they seem.
act I.
there was a theory where a nephilim in the presence of an angel wouldn't be as volatile as their powers cancelled each other out.
“did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” you asked kim mingyu, nudging him with your elbow to get his attention.
he looked at you, his mouth agape in offence. “mind you. i didn’t fall, i flew down.”
“uh-huh.” you nodded unconvincingly.
“plus, i came here for business purposes so…”
“so?” you asked as he didn’t continue.
“i should get going.” he finished, standing up from the park bench to go who knows where.
it was mingyu’s first time meeting, let alone talking to a human, and what weird creatures he thinks they are. having being sent by the superiors running the department of strange occurrences in heaven, he was tasked to investigate about the strange occurrences (as stated) happening in the town of fairville. though he wondered if the strange things were just normalcy for the strange humans. he did learn about them from the previous reports from his and the other departments, but seeing one up close was totally different.
“hey!” you called out, jogging lightly to catch up with his pace.
“what?” he asked, stopping abruptly, causing you to bump head first into his back.
you squeezed your eyes shut, rubbing your head at the sudden impact. are all angels made out of steel?
“the thing you asked about just now. i don’t know why you angels want nets and silver bullets, apparently not for catching werewolves, but i know a place where you can get them.” you said, the pain from the sudden impact earlier subsiding.
“huh.” mingyu looked at you, curiosity piqued. “werewolves aren’t real.” he stated.
“twilight says otherwise.” you shrugged.
“who’s twilight?” he asked, confused.
you shook your head, walking to the direction of the nearest subway. “right. forget what i just said. since i have some time to spare, let’s head over to uncle kim’s shop right now, you coming?”
—-
“granduncle kim!” you shouted as soon as you stepped into the vintage shop making your way to the backroom with mingyu right behind you.
your granduncle looked up from the mechanical watch he was tinkering, his eyes lighting up when his gaze fell on you.
he stood up from his worktable, walking over to you. “it’s good to see you, dear.”
his eyes landed on mingyu behind you, who was busy looking at the picture frames on the cabinet. “who are you? why aren’t you with seungcheol?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and directing his question to mingyu.
“right. about that.” you pulled mingyu’s arm towards you. “he’s mingyu. a friend i just met. and seungcheol is busy with school.”
“and you’re not?” granduncle asked.
you smiled sheepishly. “i was. but i took a short break.”
he raised his eyebrow.
“anyways.” you continued. “mingyu here needs some things, and i thought we could help him out.” you nudged mingyu to go forward.
mingyu flashed a charming smile, one that would make even cinderella’s prince charming jealous. “hello, it’s nice to meet you, granduncle. y/n here told me you would have some spare nets and silver bullets lying around?”
but it looked like his charm did not move your granduncle even a bit. your granduncle nodded. “they were in the attic the last time i checked. take anything you want. haven’t touched them in years.” he grumbled, going back to sit by his worktable.
“let’s go!” you whispered, tugging mingyu along to a bare part of the storeroom that looks untouched.
he looked around the empty room, confused. “what… are we doing here?”
you squinted before pointing towards the ceiling. “there. thank god that he made you angels tall. if you could just pull that little tab over there…”
mingyu’s eyes trailed to where you were pointing and reached out, his fingers just brushing the tab. “you mean this one?” he confirmed.
you nodded. as soon as he pulled the tab, a wooden ladder rolled down, sending heaps of dust flying everywhere.
“after you.” mingyu said, gesturing towards the ladder.
you climbed, pulling yourself up to the attic. there were boxes piled onto each other, the thick layer of dust evident of neglect. you lifted up the lid of the box closest to you to find photo albums stacked against each other. you flipped them open to see two unfamiliar faces that looked like they were in the town of fairville decades ago. you solemnly looked through the pictures, noting how in love they looked. the small pendant hanging on the woman’s neck caught your eye, seeing how familiar it looked to yours.
“what are you looking at?” mingyu asked, taking a peek over your shoulder.
you shook your head. “i don’t know why granduncle still keeps all these photo albums here. as far as i know, my birth parents passed away in a fire.” you shut the photo album, turning to look at mingyu. “have you found what you’re looking for?”
he nodded. “it’s all in the box right here. any other boxes you want to check out?”
“nah, it’s okay. we just came for those anyway.” you said, heading towards the ladder. “though… you still haven’t told me what you angels are hunting.”
“well, it’s neither human nor angel.” he answered curtly.
“okay…” you dragged out, making your way down with him following right behind you. you made your way out of the shop, following mingyu to god knows where, the cardboard box looking tiny in his arms.
“well… can you at least tell me where we're going?”
“uh-uh. not we. it's way too dangerous.” he said, falling into pace with you.
“i can handle it. plus, you don't know how the human world works.”
he shook his head. “it's not right for an angel to risk a human’s life.”
“you're not risking my life. i’m doing it myself. i promise to run at the first sign of danger.” you countered. you see mingyu squinting at a paper, his eyebrows scrunched into a frown.
“it's an address.” you explained, glancing at the paper. “see? you need help.”
“fine.” he sighed. “but you leave when it gets too dangerous.” he added.
“deal.”
—-
“it literally says we’re at the right place. but why does it look like we aren't?” you asked, raising your eyebrows while checking over the map again. the address brought you both to a night club named the pandemonium.
“y/n-ah, it's a front for anything supernatural. deals. information. anything a supernatural would need.” mingyu explained, walking up to the bouncers with you following closely behind.
the two bouncers guarding the door looked anything but human. one had eyes that glowed faintly amber when the light hit, the other’s shadow didn’t quite match his body.
“password?” the taller one rumbled, his voice vibrating in his chest.
mingyu didn’t hesitate. “de lumine cadentem.”
for a moment, the air between them shimmered—like heat rising from asphalt—and then the bouncer stepped aside.
“angels,” the shorter one muttered under his breath, as if it was a slur.
you swallowed, gripping mingyu’s sleeve as he pushed the door open. the inside was a blur of color and chaos: glowing sigils scrawled on the walls, creatures you’d only seen in myths lounging on velvet couches, laughter that didn’t sound entirely human.
you leaned closer to mingyu. “this… doesn’t look like a place angels are welcome.”
“we’re not,” he replied quietly, eyes scanning the crowd. “that’s why we don’t stay long.”
and as he said that, something across the room shifted—a ripple of awareness, eyes turning toward you both like sharks scenting blood.
mingyu didn’t slow down as you weaved through the crowd, brushing past creatures that looked human until you caught the glint of something—fangs, claws, eyes that glowed too bright.
you tried to keep your voice casual. “so. who exactly are we here to see?”
“someone who owes heaven a favor,” mingyu said simply.
“you sound like a tax collector.”
“in a way, i am.”
he led you past a velvet curtain at the back, the music fading into a low hum as the hallway narrowed. the walls here were lined with mirrors—cracked and distorted. your reflection blurred every few seconds, like it couldn’t decide if it was you.
“don’t look too long,” mingyu murmured.
you averted your eyes immediately. “good to know.”
finally, he stopped in front of a door marked with a single sigil—burned into the wood, pulsing faintly red. he raised a hand, hesitated for half a beat, then knocked once.
it opened by itself.
the room beyond was dimly lit, filled with smoke and the scent of iron. behind a desk sat a figure— elegant, sharp, their smile too smooth to be comforting.
“kim mingyu,” the figure drawled. “i thought heaven stopped sending pretty boys for collection work.”
mingyu’s jaw tightened. “hello to you too, myeongho.”
myeongho leaned back in his chair, one leg crossing over the other as he regarded you both. “and who’s this? your new partner?”
his eyes slid to you, and you felt the air shift, heavier somehow.
mingyu’s hand came to rest lightly on your arm. “she’s with me.”
“that much i gathered,” myeongho said, lips curving. “but why? a human, at that.”
the question hung there.
“business,” mingyu said shortly.
myeongho’s smirk didn’t falter. “everything’s business with heaven. debts, promises, souls…” he tapped the desk idly with a black-gloved finger. “but i didn’t think you would come crawling back, mingyu. what’s the matter? your golden leash too tight?”
you saw mingyu’s wings flicker faintly behind him—just a shimmer of light, restrained fury.
“i’m not here to argue,” he said. “i’m here for information.”
“about?”
“the nephilim.”
myeongho stilled. for a heartbeat, even the smoke in the room seemed to freeze.
then, very slowly, he smiled. “ah. so that’s why heaven sent you.” his gaze drifted to you again. “they must be getting desperate.”
you shifted under his scrutiny. “what do you know about them?”
myeongho chuckled, low and dangerous. “enough to know that heaven’s been hunting the wrong kind.”
myeongho tilted his head, the corners of his mouth curving in amusement. “straight lines are boring,” he said lazily, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. “and besides, truth rarely travels in them.”
mingyu took a step forward, his voice low. “i didn’t come here for riddles.”
“oh, but heaven loves riddles, doesn’t it?” myeongho countered, eyes glinting. “orders dressed as prayers, justice dressed as mercy. tell me, mingyu—did they even tell you why you’re here?”
mingyu’s silence was answer enough.
“i thought so.” myeongho leaned back, his wings—sleek and gray like storm clouds—unfolding just enough to catch the dim light. “you angels never question. always so eager to serve. but this time…” his gaze drifted to you, slow and deliberate. “this time, you’re chasing a ghost.”
your throat went dry. “a ghost?”
“a name. a myth. the nephilim,” myeongho said. “heaven believes they’re the root of every tremor, every dark omen lately. but what they don’t tell their soldiers—” his eyes flicked back to mingyu “—is that their precious half-bloods were never meant to die out.”
myeongho crossed his arms. “you came here for answers. so all i’m going to tell you is this— what you’re searching for might be closer than you think.”
—-
you followed him out of the backroom, the heavy door shutting behind you with a hiss that sounded far too final. the music of the club hit again—low bass, distorted voices, laughter that didn’t sound quite human.
“he was just absolutely helpful,” mingyu muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“uh-huh.” you tugged at his sleeve. “so, in angel language, that means ‘we hit a dead end’ right?”
“not exactly. he just confirmed that what we’re looking for is in—“ mingyu stopped mid-step, his hand darting out to pull you closer as something sharp whizzed past your head, embedding into the wall behind you with a metallic thunk.
you froze. “what the hell—”
“eyes down,” he hissed, already moving. “we’ve got company. raiders.”
“what?” your voice came out higher than you meant, the air thick with smoke and neon light.
“rogues,” he said quickly, tugging you toward a side corridor. “mercenaries who hunt divine energy. they’ll sell an angel’s grace—or something close—to the highest bidder. we need to get out of here. fast.”
something exploded near the entrance, the shockwave knocking you off balance. mingyu caught you before you hit the ground, his arm curling around you protectively as a pulse of light rippled through the corridor.
“holy fire,” he cursed, his voice a low growl. “where did they get those blessed weapons?”
you looked at him, heart hammering. “is it that bad?”
“only if you enjoy disintegration.”
the sound of wings—harsh and heavy—filled the air, and mingyu swore under his breath. “damn it.” he turned to you, eyes glowing faintly now, a divine shimmer breaking through his disguise. “we’re not getting out the front.”
he grabbed a small pendant from his pocket and pressed it into your hand, the metal hot against your skin. “this’ll keep you hidden for a few seconds. when I say run—”
“you say run a lot, you know that?”
“and yet you never do it.”
the corner of his mouth twitched—barely a smile—before his wings burst free, ivory and blinding even in the dim red light of the club. the air around you vibrated with raw power as he turned to face the shadows closing in.
you stared, momentarily speechless. “you— you can’t just—”
“now!” he shouted, hurling a wave of light down the hall.
and you ran.
you sprinted past shattered mirrors and overturned tables, clutching the pendant tight as heat seared the air behind you. through the chaos you heard mingyu—fighting, each clash ringing with something celestial and furious.
you didn’t look back. not until the world tilted, your vision pulsing white, and the last thing you heard before darkness took you was mingyu’s voice calling your name.
—-
“seungcheol?” you asked tiredly, sitting up slowly despite every muscle in your body protesting. “how— what happened?”
his head snapped up from where he was crouched near the doorway, a faint golden shimmer fading from his hands. “easy,” he said, crossing to you quickly. “don’t move too fast.”
you stared at his hands, at where the glow once was. “you’re… an angel too, aren’t you?”
“was.”
you blinked at him, still dazed. “you mean… like mingyu?”
a flicker crossed his expression at the name, something like irritation tangled with worry. “not like him,” seungcheol said softly. “not anymore.”
you frowned, trying to piece together what happened, why your body ached as if every nerve had been scorched. “then what are you?”
he gave a small, almost rueful smile. “fallen,” he said simply. “the polite term for exiled.”
your breath caught. “heaven threw you out?”
“i left before they could.” he lowered himself to sit beside the bed— close enough that the faint warmth of him reached you. “they don’t take kindly to angels who question orders.”
you let out a breath you were holding. “does granduncle kim know? that you’re a fallen?”
seungcheol nodded. “he does.” seungcheol said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “he’s the one who found me after i left.”
you blinked, processing that. “and he didn’t… turn you in?”
a small huff of amusement left him. “heaven stopped trusting me long before that. besides, your granduncle has his own secrets—he knows how to keep one.”
“so he knew,” you murmured, sinking back against the thin pillow, exhaustion pulling at you in slow waves. “all this time?”
seungcheol nodded once. “all this time.”
you let that settle, the crackle of the fire filling the silence between you. then, your voice came out quieter—fragile in a way you didn’t intend:
“what happened to mingyu?”
seungcheol froze with dread. like he’d been waiting for that question and hoping you were too tired to ask it.
his jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low. careful.
“heaven recalled him.”
your fingers curled into the blanket. “recalled…? as in—”
“dragged,” seungcheol corrected gently. “he didn’t go willingly.”
your heart lurched painfully. “why? he didn’t do anything wrong—he was just protecting—”
“you,” he finished for you, looking at you with something heavy and knowing. “that was the problem.”
your breath hitched.
“y/n. you’re the nephilim heaven sent mingyu to look for.”
you stared at him, your mouth parting soundlessly.
“no,” you breathed out, unbelievable , a laugh slipping from you. “no, that… that’s not—seungcheol, that’s impossible. you know me. i grew up in fairville. i’m.. i’m just—”
“human?” he supplied softly.
you nodded, desperate. “yes. exactly. i’m human.”
but he only looked at you with that same steady, unbearable calm— like he had already watched you try to outrun this truth in ten different lifetimes.
“then why,” he asked quietly, “did the sky split open when you were terrified in that alley ten years ago?”
your stomach dropped. “maybe, that was just a coincidence!”
“then, why did the rain stop the moment mingyu held onto you? why did your body survive an attack that would’ve torn a human apart?”
you shook your head. “that doesn’t prove anything, seungcheol. not—“
“your mother,” seungcheol said softly, and your words died in your throat.
you looked up sharply.
his expression changed—gentler, sadder, carrying a weight he’d been holding alone for too long.
“y/n… she wasn’t just some runaway angel who fell in love with a mortal.”
your hands trembled.
“she was powerful. powerful enough that heaven marked her children as threats the moment they existed.”
a beat.
“you weren’t supposed to survive the night she died.”
your heart squeezed painfully, breath coming too fast, too thin.
“stop,” you whispered. “please—stop.”
seungcheol leaned forward, voice soft but unyielding.
“you asked what happened to mingyu.” he paused. “this is what happened. he found the nephilim he was sent to hunt. and he chose to protect you instead.”
it was then you realised. they were never raiders. and you still remember the panic in mingyu’s eyes when he gave you the pendant and told you to run.
“he knew?”you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “mingyu… knew what i was?”
seungcheol looked at you, voice certain. “not at first. but when he realized the truth… he didn’t hesitate.”
he paused.
“he chose you over heaven.”
—-
lying was a sin.
mingyu knew that.
he was a perfect student. the doctrines engraved into his head since day one: angels do not lie. angels do not deceive. angels must always follow the rule of heaven.
but he had lied. betrayed the trust of heaven. strayed away from his mission, his purpose. and the worst thing was, he would do it all over again if it meant that you were safe. and that was the problem: angels weren’t supposed to care. or have emotions— in excess.
and now, he felt the consequences in the most terrifying way an angel could: his wings were dimming.
and in heaven, that was the first sign of corruption.
“angel mingyu,” one of the higher ups spoke, his voice cold, official. “you abandoned your assignment.”
“you never told me she was the nephilim.” mingyu replied steadily. any ounce of emotion would put you and him in even more danger.
a ripple passed through the council circle, feathers rustling like a warning.
“that information was withheld for a reason,” another angel said, tone hardening. “your job was to locate and report. nothing more.”
“i followed protocol—“
“do you think we’re fools, angel?” another voice boomed. “do you think we don’t know that you interfered with our retrieval?”
he didn’t reply. couldn’t.
“the council deems you are compromised,” the presiding angel said. “the nephilim is a threat—an anomaly born of disobedience. she should not exist.”
“she is innocent.”
“is she?” the presiding angel asked. “the fact that she exists, is an abomination.a forbidden child— born of a human and an angel who disobeyed heaven. an act that has condemned entire legions before.”
“what will you do,” the presiding angel continued, voice rising, “when her awakening brings armageddon to us all?”
mingyu’s breath faltered.
“i—”
“you have no answer,” the presider said sharply. “because you are blinded.”
light surged beneath mingyu’s feet, tightening around him like shackles, his wings dimming yet another shade.
“angel mingyu,” the presider declared, “for negligence, deception, and emotional compromise—”
the words echoed across the marble chamber, final and merciless.
“—you are hereby sentenced to confinement.”
his pulse stopped.
“your wings will be restrained,” another elder added. “your grace sealed until we determine whether you can be purified.”
one of the angels leaned in coldly.
“perhaps confinement will remind you of your purpose.”
the chains, made of light and pure grace, wrapped around the base of mingyu’s wings. and the moment it tightened, mingyu choked on a strangled breath.
heaven was binding him.
disabling him.
reminding him why he shouldn’t go against his orders.
mingyu swallowed hard, vision blurring.
“and her?” he rasped. “y/n?”
the presider’s expression did not change.
“the nephilim will be dealt with.”
“what—”
“someone has already been sent to retrieve her,” another said. “an angel who does not question, does not hesitate, and does not… feel.”
mingyu’s blood ran cold.
he knew exactly who they meant.
“no,” he whispered.
the chains tightened.
“junghan.”
—-
act II.
the fallen are no longer beings of heaven.
mingyu knew that the only way out was down.
to fall.
heaven had designed confinement as a place where one couldn’t even tell how time passes, a place where one couldn’t even think.
and he knew, the longer he stayed, the more he would lose himself, lose the memories of you. and he would rather fall than lose you.
your voice.
your laugh.
the way you smiled.
he closed his eyes. he knew that if he chose to fall, he could never return to the heaven realm. his grace would be stripped. wings burned.
yet, if he didn’t. he might not be able to return to you.
he breathed deeply, and with a voice barely above a whisper, he chose. “i fall.”
the word left his lips like a prayer heaven would never accept.
for a moment, nothing happened.
then the world cracked.
light splintered across the empty white void of confinement. his wings burned brightly against the sky, as gravity dragged him back down. and in his final moment between heaven and earth, as the last remnants of his divinity burned away, mingyu made one last silent prayer:
please let me fall to her.
—
the impact shook the earth.
not enough to create a crater, no, heaven had stripped him of almost all of his divinity, but enough for every fallen within a ten-kilometer radius to snap their heads up.
including seungcheol.
you stiffened where you sat on the cracked leather booth of the abandoned pizzeria, where the fallen had chosen to set up their base, their shelter, or their meeting spot, as one would call it.
“what was that?” you whispered.
seungcheol’s brows furrowed, but before he could answer, the ground rumbled a second time. he rose immediately, wings flaring out in instinct, black and sharp like carved obsidian.
“stay behind me.” he ordered.
“cheol—”
“please.”
you swallowed your argument. you followed seungcheol as he stepped out the front door of the pizzeria cautiously, your hands lighting gripping the back of seungcheol’s coat as his wings half-unfurled in tense instinct.
and then you saw it.
your breath hitched. mingyu lay crumpled on the ground, his breath shallow and uneven. but his wings, his once pure white wings were now black, not soft obsidian like seungcheol’s, but freshly burned, edges still smoking, feathers brittle and cracked like molten glass cooling too fast.
“no…” you whispered, stepping past seungcheol before he could stop you.
you knelt beside mingyu, hands trembling as you reached out—but you didn’t touch him, afraid one wrong move would hurt him more.
“mingyu?” your voice shook.
his fingers twitched.
he tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out. the second he shifted, the wings dragged across the ground with a fragile, agonizing scrape.
you flinched.
he flinched harder.
“y/n…” he rasped, eyes barely opening. “don’t— touch— wings… hurts…”
your heart cracked.
behind you, seungcheol finally exhaled.
“he’s lucky he landed here. we need to get him inside,” he said, voice low with urgency. “the fall stripped most of his grace— he won’t last long out here.”
you turned to him, realizing this wasn’t shock in his voice.
it was familiarity.
seungcheol had fallen too.
he knew exactly what mingyu was going through.
you looked at mingyu again— your chest tightening at the sight of those blackened wings, the way he shook from the effort of just breathing.
you slid your hand into his gently.
“mingyu,” you whispered, “we’re taking you home.”
and for the first time since he crashed onto earth, he let himself lean into you completely.
—-
mingyu woke up choking on air that felt too heavy for his lungs.
his eyes flew open, wings jerking instinctively, before a burst of pain ripped through his back.
“mingyu— hey, hey, don’t move,” you said quickly, hands hovering, panic sharp in your chest. “please.”
recognition flashed through his eyes and his breathing stuttered, slowly, he went still.
the room was dim, lit only by flickering fluorescent lights and a few candles scattered across overturned tables. cracked tiles. old posters peeling off the walls— seokmin’s pepperoni pizza still smiling down like it didn’t know the impending doom that was coming.
an abandoned pizzeria.
memory flooded back all at once.
heaven.
confinement.
the fall.
you.
his gaze snapped to you.
“y/n,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “you’re—”
“i’m here,” you said immediately. “you’re safe. as safe as you can be.”
he swallowed hard. “we don’t have time,” he said, trying to sit up again. the searing pain forced a sharp inhale, but he pushed through it. “they sent junghan.”
seungcheol, leaning against the counter nearby, straightened and cursed. “of course they did.” seungcheol muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
mingyu turned to him, recognition flashing. “fallen.”
“exiled.” seungcheol corrected. “by choice. same as you now.”
mingyu’s jaw tightened. “then you know what sending him means.”
“yes,” seungcheol said. “war.”
the word settled like ash in the room.
mingyu’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric of the couch beneath him. “junghan doesn’t get sent unless the council wants an example made. he’s a purifier. he doesn’t negotiate.”
seungcheol nodded once. “heaven’s message is simple,” he said. “return the nephilim. execute the fallen. erase the rest.”
mingyu looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in his expression fractured. “they’ll burn this place to the ground,” he murmured. “and everyone in it.”
as if summoned by his words, footsteps echoed from the back hallway.
you tensed.
but instead of angels, figures emerged from the shadows.
they all stopped when they saw mingyu.
“new fall,” someone muttered.
the one with the ash-gray wings stepped closer, gaze sharp but not unkind. “you survived a clean burn.”
“barely,” mingyu replied.
he nodded once. “then you’re strong. or stupid.”
“both,” seungcheol said flatly.
his eyes flicked to you then, narrowing. “and that must be why heaven’s throwing a tantrum.”
the room shifted.
every fallen in the pizzeria looked at you.
mingyu reached for your hand without thinking, his grip firm despite the pain. “she’s under my protection,” he said, voice steady.
the one with the ash-gray wings, who you now know as seungkwan let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face like he was already exhausted by the future.
“welcome,” he said dryly, “to the afterlight society.”
you blinked. “that’s… ominous.”
“we workshopped it,” someone chirped from the back. “it was either that or the burnt wing collective. i’m seokmin, by the way.”
“no one was going to take us seriously if we went with that,” seungkwan shot back.
despite yourself, a weak huff of laughter slipped out of you— brief, disbelieving. the sound felt wrong in a place like this. like laughing in a graveyard.
mingyu glanced at you, a small smile at the corner of his lips.
“we’re what’s left,” seungkwan continued, tone sobering. “angels who chose wrong. asked too many questions. loved the wrong people.”
his eyes flicked to mingyu’s wings, still trembling faintly, feathers darkened at the edges. “or fell for them.”
the fallen shifted around the room, some leaning against counters, others sitting on upturned crates. they were all different— scars, burns, wings in various states of ruin, but they shared the same look in their eyes.
survivors.
“junghan won’t come alone,” seungkwan said. “purifiers never do.”
“how long do we have?” you asked quietly.
seungkwan tilted his head, listening— not to the room, but to something far away. the air hummed faintly, like a distant storm pressing its ear to the city.
“hours,” he said finally. “maybe less.”
mingyu tightened his grip on your hand. you could feel the tremor in him now— not fear for himself, but for you.
“then we move,” seungcheol said. “we fortify, we scatter civilians, we hide her.”
something like approval crossed seungkwan’s face. “yeah,” he said. “you’ll fit just right in.”
—
act III. the afterlight society
across the room, seungkwan paced, counting. supplies. people. time. none of it enough.
“junghan will strike at dawn,” he said. “purifiers always like dawn. symbolism.”
“how many?” someone asked.
“enough.” seungcheol answered, checking the edge of his blade. sharp. the weapon that followed him from heaven till even now.
your stomach twisted.
“purifiers don’t come to negotiate,” seungcheol continued. “they come to cleanse. they’ll start with the outer wards, burn through anything that moves, and call it mercy.”
a low murmur rippled through the fallen.
mingyu’s jaw clenched. “junghan won’t stop until he has her.”
seungcheol slid the blade back into its sheath with a soft click. “then he won’t stop at all.”
you felt it again— that pressure in your chest, like the world leaning in too close.
“what’s the plan?” you asked quietly.
seungkwan stopped pacing. “we buy time,” he said. “we scatter. we misdirect.”
seungcheol’s gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. “and you focus on staying alive.”
the lights flickered overhead.
outside, the sky began to pale— too early, too wrong.
dawn was coming.
—
dawn never fully broke.
the sky split with streaks of gold that felt wrong, invasive, as the first purifier descended without sound.
then another.
then a dozen more, wings slicing through the air like blades. the ground trembled as they landed in a loose semicircle outside the pizzeria, holy sigils burning into cracked asphalt.
junghan stepped forward last. his wings were immaculate. unburned. unscarred. mercy made flesh.
“fallen,” he called, voice carrying without effort. “step aside.”
no one moved.
seungcheol’s blade hummed low. wards flared. the air thickened until breathing hurt.
mingyu stood in front of you, wings spread despite the pain, feathers dark as storm clouds.
“this ends now,” junghan said, gaze locking onto you. “hand over the nephilim and none of you will need to get hurt.”
“no,” mingyu replied.
a beat.
then the sky screamed.
light cracked downward— warning shots, as seungkwan would call them later. asphalt split. windows shattered. one fallen went to their knees, gasping.
you cried out, instinct flaring— and the ground answered.
the tremor rippled outward, stopping just short of the angels’ feet.
everything froze.
junghan’s expression changed— not anger. interest.
“you see?” one angel murmured. “she’s already unstable.”
mingyu felt it then— how the pressure around you eased the moment he stepped closer, how the air stilled when his hand found yours.
junghan noticed too. “…fascinating,” he said quietly. “your presence dampens her.”
seungkwan sucked in a breath. “cancelation,” he muttered. “angelic resonance.”
a theory whispered in forbidden texts.
nephilim in the presence of an angel— balanced.
junghan raised a hand. the purifiers halted.
“very well,” he said. “let us speak. we do not want any more divine blood going to waste.”
—
the pact was carved into the air itself. not written. bound.
light burned sigils into the ground between heaven and the fallen, each symbol sealing with a sound like bone snapping.
“the nephilim remains on earth,” junghan intoned. “under the sole protection of angel mingyu, now fallen.”
mingyu stiffened.
“should she cause harm to earth, to humanity, or to the balance,” junghan continued, eyes never leaving you, “the fallen will surrender her without resistance.”
your chest tightened.
“mingyu will be bound to her,” junghan said. “her presence will be tempered by his. his existence tethered by hers.”
you turned to him, horror and relief tangling.
“this is not mercy,” junghan finished calmly. “this is containment.”
seungcheol stepped forward. “and if heaven breaks the pact?”
junghan smiled.
“then god will hear of it.”
the light receded.
the purifiers lifted back into the sky, dawn finally bleeding through the clouds like a wound closing.
war was avoided.
but only barely.
mingyu never let go of your hand.
not when the angels vanished.
not when the wards fell silent.
not when the afterlight society exhaled as one.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered.
he shook his head, forehead resting against yours. “don’t be.” his wings twitched, fully dark now.
mingyu finally pulled back enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles—checking, grounding. “do you feel different?”
you nodded. “quieter,” you said. “like the world stopped shouting at me.”
his shoulders sagged with relief. “it’s the bond. if you feel afraid, i’ll feel it too. if you get hurt, i’ll know it too.”
you swallowed. “that doesn’t sound fair.”
a corner of his mouth lifted, just barely. “heaven was never fair.”
his thumb traced a small, unconscious circle over your knuckles, like he was memorizing the shape of your hand. grounding himself. “it goes both ways,” he added. “if i lose control… if the dark pulls too hard—”
“i’ll be there,” you said immediately.
he looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was trying to reconcile the weight of eternity with the warmth of now. “that’s what scares me,” he admitted softly. “you shouldn’t have to carry me too.”
you stepped closer, forehead brushing his again. you squeezed his hand. “you’re the only reason they didn’t take me.”
“then i’ll stay,” mingyu said. not a vow. a fact. “however long you need me.”
—
bonus scene:
the pizzeria looked… lived in.
not fixed— never fixed— but warmer. wards etched into the walls glowed faintly beneath layers of old posters and string lights someone had stolen from a closed-down café. tables were pushed together now, mismatched chairs crowded around them.
home, in its own crooked way.
you slipped inside with mingyu, his hand still instinctively finding yours as the door shut behind you. the bond hummed— quiet, familiar. it had been six months since the pact with heaven. six months of peace. with mingyu.
both of you had managed to settle down in a cabin at the edge of the woods. calm, peaceful, home.
“wow,” you murmured. “we really came back here.”
“we always do,” seungkwan said from behind the counter. “trauma bonding spot.”
seungcheol leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching everyone arrive like he was counting heads out of habit.
“okay, but hear me out,” seokmin announced, waving his phone in the air. “i’m starving.”
seungkwan squinted. “don’t you dare.”
“i already did.”
there was a beat of silence.
“…you ordered pizza?” chan asked.
seokmin nodded proudly. “yep. large. extra cheese. pepperoni. a classic.”
mingyu blinked. “from where.”
seokmin grinned. “the place three blocks down.”
you stared at him. “this is literally a pizza shop.”
“exactly!” he said, delighted. “the pizza delivery guy is gonna be so freaked out when he finds out he’s delivering pizza to another pizza store.”
you huffed out a laugh.
seungkwan groaned. “we survived heaven’s wrath just to die of embarrassment.”
mingyu leaned toward you, voice low. “is this what peace looks like?”
you smiled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. “i think this is what living looks like.”
a knock echoed at the door.
everyone froze.
seungcheol sighed. “if that’s junghan—”
seokmin sprinted past him. “if it’s junghan, he better have my pepperoni pizza.”
the door opened.
a very normal, very human delivery guy stood there, blinking at the neon sign, the run-down interior, the wings— half-hidden but not enough.
“…uh,” he said slowly. “did i get the wrong address?”
seokmin beamed. “nope! you’re at the right place. perfect timing.”
he took the pizzas. tipped generously.
and as the door shut again, sealing in warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of the afterlight society, mingyu squeezed your hand. “i’m glad everything led me to you.”
“i wouldn’t trade this for anything else.” you smiled.
featuring yunho as frankenstein x reader! 4.0k words
where you thought your best friend was joking when she told you she built frankenstein in her house turned lab.
a/n: i initially had a whole mystery plot planned out, but couldn’t finish it in time for halloween, so instead, we get fluffy frankenstein/ golden retriever yunho for halloween. :)) fluff, comedy
you should’ve known that nothing would have gone well when your best friend invited you over to her house during halloween to take what she called a first look at her newest invention — which she named frankenstein, and to which you had just assumed was another one of her overly ambitious animatronics that she would decorate her house with.
last year it was moving skeleton spiders. the year before it was a fog machine that almost burned down her garage. and the year before that was a animatronic zombie butler that nearly burned your sleeve when it was trying to “serve” you.
so when minjeong texted you to “come over and see my latest experiment!” on halloween night, you hadn’t thought too much about it.
“i swear, i just need a little more power.” your best friend grumbled, shoving a mess of tangled wires out of the way as she led you down to her basement.
you could feel the temperature drop three degrees as you hugged yourself tighter as a feeble attempt to keep yourself warm.
the air down there was heavy with the metallic tang of overheated wires, the hum of machinery buzzing faintly through the concrete. the basement had always been minjeong’s personal laboratory of very bad ideas™.
but this time… it looked worse.
there were towers of metal parts stacked against the walls, coils of wire spilling like spilled intestines, and at the center of it all — a massive metal table surrounded by sparking monitors.
“minjeong,” you said, eyebrows furrowed as you took in the franken-lab aesthetic. “please tell me this isn’t another fog machine.”
she snorted, slightly offended. “pfft. no. this is way cooler.”
“i should’ve stayed home.”
“you say that every year.”
“because every halloween something from your house tries to kill me.”
she waved a dismissive hand. “semantics.”
with a flick of her wrist, she gestured toward the table in the center of the room. “that— is my greatest project to date, yet.”
lying on the cold stainless steel table was a man.
or at least, something that looked like one.
his skin was pale, almost luminescent under the harsh fluorescent lights, with faint lines running down his arms and across his chest like a network of careful stitches. his hair was dark and damp, clinging to his forehead. his frame was broad, too perfect in its symmetry — too human to be fake, too still to be real.
“minjeong,” you said slowly, taking a cautious step forward. “that’s not an animatronic, is it?”
“it is!” she insisted, too cheerful, then paused. “…at least, kind of.”
you gawked at her. “kind of?”
“i mean,” she began, looking down at the ground as though she was slightly guilty to admit. “i didn’t build him from scratch. that’d take forever. so I, uh—” she waved a hand in a vague circle— “stitched together the best parts.”
“of what.”
she beamed like a proud golden retriever. “people!”
“minjeong.”
“what?!” she said defensively. “they were all ethically sourced people!”
your jaw dropped. “there’s no such thing as ethically sourced people!”
she scrunched her nose. “well, yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds weird.”
“because it is weird!” you facepalmed yourself.
she rolled her eyes like you were the unreasonable one. “relax. It’s not like I stole anyone. all of it came from donation programs and unclaimed cadavers. totally legal.” a beat. “…mostly.”
you sighed, shaking your head as you took a step closer to get a proper look at his face.
even with the harsh clinical lights in the basement, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. his hair was a dark tousled mess, a few strands falling over his closed eyes, nice cheekbones, lips that looked far too soft—
“why did you have to make him so hot?” you muttered.
“what?” minjeong asked, looking up from the control panel.
“nothing.” you blurted, as you noticed a faint scar that ran down the side of his temple, disappearing into the collar of the hospital-like gown he wore.
minjeong loudly sighed. “well, you won’t have to worry about him waking up anytime soon unless the city’s generous enough to give us a whole city’s worth of energy for a minute to power him up.”
“then maybe you shouldn’t have built a frankenstein in your basement. and stick to something small— like a cute pumpkin lantern or something.”
“no regrets. it was fun! and it’s halloween. i can just leave him here for the time being. he’s technically harmless.”
you gave her a pointed look.
“y/n. i swear nothing in my house is going to try and kill you this year.”
boom.
the overhead light flickers, the machines around the tables whirring to life.
“minjeong, don’t tell me you put a lightning rod on your roof to harness electricity.”
“oops. i… might have.”
“might??!”
“technically it’s an experimental energy conductor.”
another crack of thunder split the sky. the basement shuddering due to the force. the metal table vibrated as raw power surged through the wires and into the still figure lying on it, sparks flying across the floor.
then,
the body on the table jerks once.
twice.
and a shuddering gasp fills the room.
you freeze as the body on the table sits up, his eyes open, pale and glassy at first, then focusing, locking onto you. it’s wrong how human he looks in the stormlight. “yunho… my name is yunho.”
your breath caught in your throat.
minjeong stood frozen at the control panel with a smoking cable in her hand, eyes wide, staring at her own creation. “oh… shit.”
—-
“minjeong, what now?” you whispered, reaching for the nearest weapon you could find, (which turned out to be a wrench).
“um… i don’t know?! i never actually expected this to work!”
“what do you mean you never expected this to work?! you were just so confident in your creation minutes ago!”
yunho’s eyes darted between you and minjeong curiously, which you had to admit, made him look kinda harmless, as his feet slowly touched the ground, as if testing the waters.
“minjeong.” you whispered urgently.
“i don’t know! maybe offer him juice?” she threw her hands up exasperatedly.
yunho tilted his head. “…juice?”
“oh my god. he talks.” minjeong said.
“he literally told us his name. of course he talks!”
“okay, step one: don’t panic.” she exhaled slowly.
“you’re panicking!”
“not helping, y/n.” minjeong whispered, turning to face yunho with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen plastered on her face. “hi… um… yunho, welcome to consciousness.”
you smacked your forehead with your wrench. “oh my god.”
yunho looked at minjeong curiously, as if slowly trying to piece together what she was saying.
“new plan, y/nnie.” minjeong whispered. “we act normal. and just be very good hosts.”
—-
“first things first: he needs proper clothes.” you said to minjeong, gesturing to the worn out hospital gown yunho was wearing.
“oh, yup! i have some spare clothes that my brother left that i would think would be able to fit him.” minjeong said, scrambling down the hallway to look for them.
yunho stood awkwardly in the living room, making it feel more cramped than it should have been.
“you can sit, you know.” you said softly, gesturing to the couch in front of you.
he slowly lowered himself down onto the couch, the old cushions squeaking awkwardly in the silence.
yunho’s hands found the pumpkin shaped throw pillow that minjeong left on the couch and was gently squishing it, his fingers tracing over the stitching curiously.
“y/n.” his voice was quiet.
you froze. “…yeah?”
he pointed to the living room light at the corner. “what is that?”
you blinked. “it’s a lamp.“
“it’s warm.”
“yeah. it’s supposed to be warm.”
minjeong came skidding back into the room, almost tripping over a loose cable, with a pile of clothes in her hands. “we have hoodies, jeans, a coat?” she blinked, looking at how yunho was hugging the pumpkin pillow like a five year old and froze. “what… did i miss?”
you pointed at yunho, still quietly entranced by the warm glow of the lamp. “he discovered electricity.”
“lamp.” yunho said.
“and the pillow?” minjeong asked, bewildered.
“he squished the pillow five times since he sat on the couch.”
minjeong shook her head. “okay. uh, hoodie and sweats?” she asked, holding up a graphic hoodie that looked a little too small before handing it to yunho.
for a moment he just stared at them, long fingers brushing over the fabric, unsure.
“…put them on.” you said.
he nodded slowly, then reached for the hem of his gown.
“wait! no! not here!” you yelped, flailing your hands like an alarmed goose. minjeong immediately doubled over in silent laughter.
yunho froze mid-motion, hands still clutching the edge of the thin hospital gown. you spun around so fast you nearly tripped over the coffee table.
“not here!” you repeated, waving your arms like a human stop sign. “bathroom!” you pointed down the hallway.
“…bathroom?” yunho tilted his head curiously.
“yes. bathroom. privacy. good boy.”
he stood up — all 186 cm of him towering over you— and padded down the hall obediently. minjeong wiped tears of laughter from her face. “i love him,” she wheezed. “he’s like a confused golden retriever trapped in a k-drama.”
“not funny, minjeong.” you hissed, shooting a death glare over your shoulder. “you better control your science project before i have to report him to the police.”
“hey, you said you wanted him clothed!” she snorted.
“not naked first!”
“i think he’s pretty harmless.” minjeong shrugged. “compared to all of my other halloween inventions, he hasn’t even tried to kill you once.”
“yet.”
“relax, y/n. he was literally on the couch hugging the pumpkin pillow. he’s pretty much just a harmless golden retriever that woke up in my basement.” she grinned.
before you could argue, the door creaked open again. yunho emerged in the oversized hoodie and sweatpants — the fabric swallowing his frame, sleeves hanging over his hands. he looked unexplainably soft.
his eyes darted between the two of you, expression careful. “clothes,” he said, voice smaller than before.
uou felt your face do that stupid warm thing. “yeah. good. you look… nice.” you cleared your throat. “comfortable?”
he hesitated, then nodded. “warm.”
minjeong’s eyes gleamed. “see? absolute human behavior. totally harmless. step two: get him some food. he’s probably hungry.”
you shot her a look that said are we really feeding a person brought back to life in your basement, but softened when you saw yunho visibly light up at the word “food”.
minjeong shrugged at you.
“okay, i can cook up some ramyeon.” you sighed, heading toward the kitchen. “but if he has an allergic reaction or something, you’re the one cleaning it up.”
“noted,” minjeong said cheerfully, already crouching near yunho like she was observing a rare species. “don’t worry, big guy. you’re gonna love food. noodles are, like, the pinnacle of human achievement.”
“noodles,” yunho repeated carefully, as if tasting the word before the actual thing.
“yup. long, chewy, life-changing.”
you filled a pot with water, trying not to listen as minjeong continued her impromptu lecture about ramen flavors and msg. when you glanced over your shoulder, you found yunho sitting on the floor beside the couch, still clutching the pumpkin pillow, watching the stove light with wide, fascinated eyes.
he didn’t look away from the flame until the noodles started to boil. when you poured the seasoning in, the scent of spicy soup filled the air, and yunho visibly perked up — like a kid smelling food for the first time.
minjeong leaned against the counter, grinning. “look at him. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say that we are new parents feeding our toddler his first meal.”
“he’s not a toddler, he’s—” you stopped. actually, you weren’t even sure what he was. “—something.”
yunho blinked, watching the steam rise. “smells… good.”
the way he said it — halting, honest, human — made your chest squeeze unexpectedly.
minjeong whispered under her breath, “see? harmless.”
you handed her the ladle. “if he eats your favourite bowl, that’s on you.”
—
after yunho finished the bowl of ramyeon, (which took him less than three minutes), minjeong decided that it was training time.
“y/n.” minjeong declared, already marching toward yunho like a mad scientist approaching her prized experiment. “do you honestly think I spent six months studying nerve reanimation, stealing a defibrillator from the lab, and watching seventeen seasons of medical dramas just to let my beautiful boy stand here and stare at a lamp?”
“yes!” you whispered-yelled. “that’s exactly what I thought you were gonna do!”
she ignored you. of course she did.
yunho, for his part, turned toward her slowly — like an enormous golden retriever trying to figure out what “walks” meant.
“okay, subject,” she said, pulling out a clipboard she absolutely should not have. “test one: following instructions.”
“i hate this,” you muttered.
“yunho,” she said sweetly, “raise your right hand.”
he blinked. then, obediently, raised his hand.
“good boy!” she chirped.
you choked.
she grinned like she’d just been handed a nobel prize. “test two: responding to name. yunho, sit.”
you opened your mouth to protest but—
he sat.
he actually sat.
you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. he looked so proud of himself too, like he’d just solved world hunger.
“oh my god,” your friend whispered in awe. “he’s better trained than my dog.”
“he’s not a pet, he’s a—” you stopped when you realized yunho was now mimicking the way your friend was clapping her hands. a few moments later he was… clapping for himself.
and then smiling. a big, soft, pleased with himself smile.
your heart melted like butter in a frying pan.
“okay,” your friend said, eyes shining with dangerous glee. “test three: emotional response. what happens if i say, ‘good job, yunho,’?”
“don’t—”
she turned toward him. “good job, yunho.”
his head tilted. and then… he smiled wider. this quiet, shy, soft thing that felt like warm sunlight through storm clouds.
you were doomed.
minjeong slapped the clipboard against her palm dramatically. “i have created the perfect human.”
“you created a person,” you hissed. “a confused person who likes lamps and pumpkin pillows and does what he’s told.”
she smirked. “exactly. do you know how many men out there don’t even do step three?”
you had no comeback for that.
in the background, yunho was now carefully trying to high-five himself.
and if as things couldn’t get any worse, the doorbell rang. “trick or treat!”
—
“hello!” you opened the door albeit too cheerfully, forcing a smile as you faced three little witches, a vampire, and a kid in a banana onesie. “happy halloween!”
“coool costume.” banana boy pointed straight right past you.
“is that your boyfriend?” one of the witches added.
your head whipped around to see where the boy pointed at, only to find yunho behind you, (and minjeong trying her best to hide her laughter).
“uh, yeah. he is.” you racked your brain for a story. “he— uh— dressed up as frankenstein tonight.”
“cooool.” the kids chorused.
right on cue, yunho leaned sideways into the doorway, towering over all the kids with the world’s most awkward smile. the kids screamed——not in fear.
in delight.
“whoa, he’s so tall!”
“is he a real frankenstein?”
“he looks so reaaal.”
before you could stop him, yunho raised one hand slowly, robotically, and waved.
“hi.” he said, a little too deep, a little too weird.
you squeaked.
the kids lost their minds.
“HE TALKS TOO.”
“BRO THIS IS SO COOL.”
“HE SOUNDS LIKE A MOVIE CHARACTER.”
you quickly signalled for minjeong to give out the candy as you shoved some candy into the little buckets the kids were holding.
banana boy stared up at yunho. “hey mister frankenstein, what’s your favourite candy?”
silence.
yunho blinked. once. twice. before replying, “…lamp.”
the kids stared at him. wide-eyed. for a beat.
“HE SAID LAMP!!”
“HE’S STAYING IN CHARACTER OMG.”
“YOU’RE SO GOOD AT THIS.”
“mister frankenstein, can you come to our school party?” one of the little witch asked.
“uh— no! he can’t.” you said quickly, gently pushing the kids off the porch so that they could move onto the next house. “he’s uh— grounded! right.”
“grounded?” the vampire kid asked.
you nodded solemnly. “for being too good at halloween.”
the kids accepted this logic like it was law. “cooool. bye mister frankenstein!!”
“bye,” yunho repeated, waving again.
they skipped away into the night, leaving you leaning against the door frame like you’d just survived a horror movie.
“that was… eventful.” you sighed, heading back into the house.
“are you kidding? that was the funniest thing i’ve seen the past year of my life.” minjeong said, coming down from her laughter.
yunho looked down at you with that proud golden retriever expression, as if he knew he’d just nailed halloween.
“i think you’ve just shortened my lifespan, minjeongie.” you plunged headfirst into the couch.
—-
bonus scene:
“minjeong, what do you mean you need me to babysit him for a week??!”
“i’m going back to my hometown, and i can’t just leave him home alone. nor can i bring him back with me. my family will freak.” minjeong said, dragging yunho behind her as yunho smiled and waved at you.
“shoes off, please.” you said, as yunho followed minjeong into your house.
for a second he just tilted his head, confused. then, obediently, he toed off his shoes by the door.
“holy crap,” minjeong muttered. “he listens better than my ex.”
you shot her a look.
“it’s just one week!” minjeong continued. “please?” she gave you her best puppy eyes.
you glanced at her. then at yunho.
he was standing by the door like an oversized child, hands folded in front of him, gaze fixed curiously on a potted plant by the shoe rack. when he reached out and gently poked one of the leaves, he murmured, almost to himself, “soft.”
you sighed. “minjeong, i’m not running a daycare for reanimated science projects.”
“he’s not a project, he’s progress,” she corrected, beaming like a proud mom. “and technically, he’s doing really well with basic commands. look—”
she turned to him. “yunho, wave.”
he immediately raised his hand and gave the smallest, most awkward wave imaginable.
“see? angel behavior. no murders, no lightning crackles, no zombie cravings. he even brushes his teeth now!”
“you taught him to brush his teeth?” you asked, incredulous.
“yeah! mint toothpaste freaked him out at first, but he got used to it.”
you rubbed your temples. “minjeong…”
“y/n,” she said seriously, placing both hands on your shoulders. “i just need one week. seven days. i’ll owe you for life. you want free coffee for a month? done. you want me to pretend to be your fake girlfriend again so your landlord stops asking about your love life? done.”
you blinked. “i thought we swore never to talk about that.”
“desperate times,” she said solemnly.
you looked at yunho again. he’d crouched down now, still by the shoe rack, poking the same plant with scientific fascination.
“…he doesn’t bite, right?”
“only noodles,” minjeong said cheerfully.
you groaned. “fine. but if he burns my kitchen down, i’m billing you for everything.”
“deal!” she said, shoving a duffel bag full of his clothes and “instruction notes” into your hands.
yunho looked up when she started for the door, expression soft and uncertain. “minjeong?”
“you’ll be okay, yunho,” she said brightly. “y/n will take care of you.”
“…take care?” he repeated, glancing at you with wide eyes.
you exhaled. “yeah. i’ll take care of you.”
his lips curved slightly — small, tentative, but genuine.
“then… i will take care of you too.”
minjeong clutched her chest. “oh my god, that’s so cute I could die.”
you glared at her. “go before I change my mind.”
she winked and dashed out the door, leaving you alone with a six-foot-something patchwork man who still thought lamps were magic.
the silence that followed was immediate and thick.
you looked at him.
he looked at you.
“…so,” you said finally, “you hungry?”
he nodded. “always.”
—-
bonus scene #2:
the instructions minjeong gave you clearly stated not to leave yunho home alone. and so, you decided to bring yunho along your weekly grocery shopping trip.
so here you were, on a saturday afternoon, standing in front of your neighborhood supermarket — with yunho trailing two steps behind you like a lost golden retriever in a hoodie.
you tugged the hood lower over his head, just in case. “okay, rule number one: don’t talk too loud. rule number two: don’t stare at people. rule number three: don’t touch anything unless i tell you to.”
he nodded earnestly. “…okay.”
you turned to grab a basket. when you turned back, he was already poking the motion sensor door.
“y/n,” he whispered in awe as it slid open. “it moved.”
“yeah,” you sighed. “that’s a door.”
“it’s alive.”
“no, it’s automatic.”
he blinked at you like that made zero difference. you grabbed his arm before he could start poking the sensor again. “no experimenting with the door, mister frankenstein. let’s go.”
he nodded, looking solemn about it, but as soon as you stepped inside, his head turned in every possible direction —like a kid in a candy store.
you sighed. “just— stay close.”
he nodded. five seconds later, he gasped. “y/n. look. so many oranges.”
“yes, that’s the fruit section.”
“can we take all of them?”
“no.”
“how many, then?”
“one bag.”
“how many in a bag?”
“yunho.”
“…five?”
“sure.”
he grinned, visibly proud of his math, and started counting the oranges one by one. out loud. very loud.
“one… two… three—”
“shhh!” you hissed, dragging the basket closer. “people are staring!” you apologetically bowed to the shoppers around you.
a grandma pushing her cart by gave him a fond smile. “such a helpful young man,” she said.
yunho beamed. “thank you!”
you quickly steered him toward another aisle.
“y/n,” he said seriously as he pointed to the shelves stacked with toilet paper. “why do humans need so much of this?”
you froze. “please don’t—”
“is it for… ritual purposes?”
“no— okay, we’re moving on.”
you moved to the next aisle— snacks, where yunho’s curiosity only worsened. every few seconds, he’d stop, pick something up, sniff it, and then put it in the basket.
“yunho, we don’t need four bags of marshmallows.”
“they look happy.”
“they’re sugar.”
“happy sugar,” he said firmly.
you pinched the bridge of your nose. “you’re lucky you’re cute. minjeong owes me for this.” you muttered under your breath.
“y/n,” he said suddenly, holding up a packet of ramyeon with wide eyes. “this one has fire on it. do humans eat fire?”
you stared at the packet. “that’s spicy. you’ll cry.”
“i want to try crying.”
“i might if we don’t leave soon,” you muttered.
“can i eat the orange in the bag?” he asked.
“we have to pay for it first.” you said, taking a bottle of milk from the cooler section.
he paused, lowering the fruit like it had just betrayed him. “so it’s… not mine yet.”
“exactly.”
he obediently puts the orange back.
when you both got to checkout, he helped place the items on the counter, doing it very gently, and slowly, like each of them were something sacred.
the cashier blinked at him. “uh… you new around here?”
“recently made,” he said earnestly.
you kicked his ankle under the counter. “he means he recently moved here.”
“ah.” the cashier nodded slowly.
as you left the store, yunho held the shopping bags in both hands like a proud parent. “i like grocery,” he said softly. “it’s… warm. and smells nice.”
you glanced up at him— his hood slipping a little, the corner of his smile visible.
“yeah,” you said quietly. “you did good today.”
he brightened immediately. “can we go home and try the fire ramyeon?” he asked.
you nodded. “it’s all yours. i don’t handle spicy well.”
“i will not cry,” he declared solemnly, tightening his grip on the grocery bags.
you snorted. “we’ll see about that.”
“i like grocery,” he said softly. “you look happy here.”
you blinked, glancing up at him. “me?”
“mm.” he nodded. “you smile a lot when you talk to people.”
you swallowed. “that’s… just how shopping works.”
he smiled. “then i like shopping.”
you wouldn’t admit it, but your heart did a flip anyways.
featuring yunho as frankenstein x reader! 4.0k words
where you thought your best friend was joking when she told you she built frankenstein in her house turned lab.
a/n: i initially had a whole mystery plot planned out, but couldn’t finish it in time for halloween, so instead, we get fluffy frankenstein/ golden retriever yunho for halloween. :)) fluff, comedy
you should’ve known that nothing would have gone well when your best friend invited you over to her house during halloween to take what she called a first look at her newest invention — which she named frankenstein, and to which you had just assumed was another one of her overly ambitious animatronics that she would decorate her house with.
last year it was moving skeleton spiders. the year before it was a fog machine that almost burned down her garage. and the year before that was a animatronic zombie butler that nearly burned your sleeve when it was trying to “serve” you.
so when minjeong texted you to “come over and see my latest experiment!” on halloween night, you hadn’t thought too much about it.
“i swear, i just need a little more power.” your best friend grumbled, shoving a mess of tangled wires out of the way as she led you down to her basement.
you could feel the temperature drop three degrees as you hugged yourself tighter as a feeble attempt to keep yourself warm.
the air down there was heavy with the metallic tang of overheated wires, the hum of machinery buzzing faintly through the concrete. the basement had always been minjeong’s personal laboratory of very bad ideas™.
but this time… it looked worse.
there were towers of metal parts stacked against the walls, coils of wire spilling like spilled intestines, and at the center of it all — a massive metal table surrounded by sparking monitors.
“minjeong,” you said, eyebrows furrowed as you took in the franken-lab aesthetic. “please tell me this isn’t another fog machine.”
she snorted, slightly offended. “pfft. no. this is way cooler.”
“i should’ve stayed home.”
“you say that every year.”
“because every halloween something from your house tries to kill me.”
she waved a dismissive hand. “semantics.”
with a flick of her wrist, she gestured toward the table in the center of the room. “that— is my greatest project to date, yet.”
lying on the cold stainless steel table was a man.
or at least, something that looked like one.
his skin was pale, almost luminescent under the harsh fluorescent lights, with faint lines running down his arms and across his chest like a network of careful stitches. his hair was dark and damp, clinging to his forehead. his frame was broad, too perfect in its symmetry — too human to be fake, too still to be real.
“minjeong,” you said slowly, taking a cautious step forward. “that’s not an animatronic, is it?”
“it is!” she insisted, too cheerful, then paused. “…at least, kind of.”
you gawked at her. “kind of?”
“i mean,” she began, looking down at the ground as though she was slightly guilty to admit. “i didn’t build him from scratch. that’d take forever. so I, uh—” she waved a hand in a vague circle— “stitched together the best parts.”
“of what.”
she beamed like a proud golden retriever. “people!”
“minjeong.”
“what?!” she said defensively. “they were all ethically sourced people!”
your jaw dropped. “there’s no such thing as ethically sourced people!”
she scrunched her nose. “well, yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds weird.”
“because it is weird!” you facepalmed yourself.
she rolled her eyes like you were the unreasonable one. “relax. It’s not like I stole anyone. all of it came from donation programs and unclaimed cadavers. totally legal.” a beat. “…mostly.”
you sighed, shaking your head as you took a step closer to get a proper look at his face.
even with the harsh clinical lights in the basement, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. his hair was a dark tousled mess, a few strands falling over his closed eyes, nice cheekbones, lips that looked far too soft—
“why did you have to make him so hot?” you muttered.
“what?” minjeong asked, looking up from the control panel.
“nothing.” you blurted, as you noticed a faint scar that ran down the side of his temple, disappearing into the collar of the hospital-like gown he wore.
minjeong loudly sighed. “well, you won’t have to worry about him waking up anytime soon unless the city’s generous enough to give us a whole city’s worth of energy for a minute to power him up.”
“then maybe you shouldn’t have built a frankenstein in your basement. and stick to something small— like a cute pumpkin lantern or something.”
“no regrets. it was fun! and it’s halloween. i can just leave him here for the time being. he’s technically harmless.”
you gave her a pointed look.
“y/n. i swear nothing in my house is going to try and kill you this year.”
boom.
the overhead light flickers, the machines around the tables whirring to life.
“minjeong, don’t tell me you put a lightning rod on your roof to harness electricity.”
“oops. i… might have.”
“might??!”
“technically it’s an experimental energy conductor.”
another crack of thunder split the sky. the basement shuddering due to the force. the metal table vibrated as raw power surged through the wires and into the still figure lying on it, sparks flying across the floor.
then,
the body on the table jerks once.
twice.
and a shuddering gasp fills the room.
you freeze as the body on the table sits up, his eyes open, pale and glassy at first, then focusing, locking onto you. it’s wrong how human he looks in the stormlight. “yunho… my name is yunho.”
your breath caught in your throat.
minjeong stood frozen at the control panel with a smoking cable in her hand, eyes wide, staring at her own creation. “oh… shit.”
—-
“minjeong, what now?” you whispered, reaching for the nearest weapon you could find, (which turned out to be a wrench).
“um… i don’t know?! i never actually expected this to work!”
“what do you mean you never expected this to work?! you were just so confident in your creation minutes ago!”
yunho’s eyes darted between you and minjeong curiously, which you had to admit, made him look kinda harmless, as his feet slowly touched the ground, as if testing the waters.
“minjeong.” you whispered urgently.
“i don’t know! maybe offer him juice?” she threw her hands up exasperatedly.
yunho tilted his head. “…juice?”
“oh my god. he talks.” minjeong said.
“he literally told us his name. of course he talks!”
“okay, step one: don’t panic.” she exhaled slowly.
“you’re panicking!”
“not helping, y/n.” minjeong whispered, turning to face yunho with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen plastered on her face. “hi… um… yunho, welcome to consciousness.”
you smacked your forehead with your wrench. “oh my god.”
yunho looked at minjeong curiously, as if slowly trying to piece together what she was saying.
“new plan, y/nnie.” minjeong whispered. “we act normal. and just be very good hosts.”
—-
“first things first: he needs proper clothes.” you said to minjeong, gesturing to the worn out hospital gown yunho was wearing.
“oh, yup! i have some spare clothes that my brother left that i would think would be able to fit him.” minjeong said, scrambling down the hallway to look for them.
yunho stood awkwardly in the living room, making it feel more cramped than it should have been.
“you can sit, you know.” you said softly, gesturing to the couch in front of you.
he slowly lowered himself down onto the couch, the old cushions squeaking awkwardly in the silence.
yunho’s hands found the pumpkin shaped throw pillow that minjeong left on the couch and was gently squishing it, his fingers tracing over the stitching curiously.
“y/n.” his voice was quiet.
you froze. “…yeah?”
he pointed to the living room light at the corner. “what is that?”
you blinked. “it’s a lamp.“
“it’s warm.”
“yeah. it’s supposed to be warm.”
minjeong came skidding back into the room, almost tripping over a loose cable, with a pile of clothes in her hands. “we have hoodies, jeans, a coat?” she blinked, looking at how yunho was hugging the pumpkin pillow like a five year old and froze. “what… did i miss?”
you pointed at yunho, still quietly entranced by the warm glow of the lamp. “he discovered electricity.”
“lamp.” yunho said.
“and the pillow?” minjeong asked, bewildered.
“he squished the pillow five times since he sat on the couch.”
minjeong shook her head. “okay. uh, hoodie and sweats?” she asked, holding up a graphic hoodie that looked a little too small before handing it to yunho.
for a moment he just stared at them, long fingers brushing over the fabric, unsure.
“…put them on.” you said.
he nodded slowly, then reached for the hem of his gown.
“wait! no! not here!” you yelped, flailing your hands like an alarmed goose. minjeong immediately doubled over in silent laughter.
yunho froze mid-motion, hands still clutching the edge of the thin hospital gown. you spun around so fast you nearly tripped over the coffee table.
“not here!” you repeated, waving your arms like a human stop sign. “bathroom!” you pointed down the hallway.
“…bathroom?” yunho tilted his head curiously.
“yes. bathroom. privacy. good boy.”
he stood up — all 186 cm of him towering over you— and padded down the hall obediently. minjeong wiped tears of laughter from her face. “i love him,” she wheezed. “he’s like a confused golden retriever trapped in a k-drama.”
“not funny, minjeong.” you hissed, shooting a death glare over your shoulder. “you better control your science project before i have to report him to the police.”
“hey, you said you wanted him clothed!” she snorted.
“not naked first!”
“i think he’s pretty harmless.” minjeong shrugged. “compared to all of my other halloween inventions, he hasn’t even tried to kill you once.”
“yet.”
“relax, y/n. he was literally on the couch hugging the pumpkin pillow. he’s pretty much just a harmless golden retriever that woke up in my basement.” she grinned.
before you could argue, the door creaked open again. yunho emerged in the oversized hoodie and sweatpants — the fabric swallowing his frame, sleeves hanging over his hands. he looked unexplainably soft.
his eyes darted between the two of you, expression careful. “clothes,” he said, voice smaller than before.
uou felt your face do that stupid warm thing. “yeah. good. you look… nice.” you cleared your throat. “comfortable?”
he hesitated, then nodded. “warm.”
minjeong’s eyes gleamed. “see? absolute human behavior. totally harmless. step two: get him some food. he’s probably hungry.”
you shot her a look that said are we really feeding a person brought back to life in your basement, but softened when you saw yunho visibly light up at the word “food”.
minjeong shrugged at you.
“okay, i can cook up some ramyeon.” you sighed, heading toward the kitchen. “but if he has an allergic reaction or something, you’re the one cleaning it up.”
“noted,” minjeong said cheerfully, already crouching near yunho like she was observing a rare species. “don’t worry, big guy. you’re gonna love food. noodles are, like, the pinnacle of human achievement.”
“noodles,” yunho repeated carefully, as if tasting the word before the actual thing.
“yup. long, chewy, life-changing.”
you filled a pot with water, trying not to listen as minjeong continued her impromptu lecture about ramen flavors and msg. when you glanced over your shoulder, you found yunho sitting on the floor beside the couch, still clutching the pumpkin pillow, watching the stove light with wide, fascinated eyes.
he didn’t look away from the flame until the noodles started to boil. when you poured the seasoning in, the scent of spicy soup filled the air, and yunho visibly perked up — like a kid smelling food for the first time.
minjeong leaned against the counter, grinning. “look at him. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say that we are new parents feeding our toddler his first meal.”
“he’s not a toddler, he’s—” you stopped. actually, you weren’t even sure what he was. “—something.”
yunho blinked, watching the steam rise. “smells… good.”
the way he said it — halting, honest, human — made your chest squeeze unexpectedly.
minjeong whispered under her breath, “see? harmless.”
you handed her the ladle. “if he eats your favourite bowl, that’s on you.”
—
after yunho finished the bowl of ramyeon, (which took him less than three minutes), minjeong decided that it was training time.
“y/n.” minjeong declared, already marching toward yunho like a mad scientist approaching her prized experiment. “do you honestly think I spent six months studying nerve reanimation, stealing a defibrillator from the lab, and watching seventeen seasons of medical dramas just to let my beautiful boy stand here and stare at a lamp?”
“yes!” you whispered-yelled. “that’s exactly what I thought you were gonna do!”
she ignored you. of course she did.
yunho, for his part, turned toward her slowly — like an enormous golden retriever trying to figure out what “walks” meant.
“okay, subject,” she said, pulling out a clipboard she absolutely should not have. “test one: following instructions.”
“i hate this,” you muttered.
“yunho,” she said sweetly, “raise your right hand.”
he blinked. then, obediently, raised his hand.
“good boy!” she chirped.
you choked.
she grinned like she’d just been handed a nobel prize. “test two: responding to name. yunho, sit.”
you opened your mouth to protest but—
he sat.
he actually sat.
you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. he looked so proud of himself too, like he’d just solved world hunger.
“oh my god,” your friend whispered in awe. “he’s better trained than my dog.”
“he’s not a pet, he’s a—” you stopped when you realized yunho was now mimicking the way your friend was clapping her hands. a few moments later he was… clapping for himself.
and then smiling. a big, soft, pleased with himself smile.
your heart melted like butter in a frying pan.
“okay,” your friend said, eyes shining with dangerous glee. “test three: emotional response. what happens if i say, ‘good job, yunho,’?”
“don’t—”
she turned toward him. “good job, yunho.”
his head tilted. and then… he smiled wider. this quiet, shy, soft thing that felt like warm sunlight through storm clouds.
you were doomed.
minjeong slapped the clipboard against her palm dramatically. “i have created the perfect human.”
“you created a person,” you hissed. “a confused person who likes lamps and pumpkin pillows and does what he’s told.”
she smirked. “exactly. do you know how many men out there don’t even do step three?”
you had no comeback for that.
in the background, yunho was now carefully trying to high-five himself.
and if as things couldn’t get any worse, the doorbell rang. “trick or treat!”
—
“hello!” you opened the door albeit too cheerfully, forcing a smile as you faced three little witches, a vampire, and a kid in a banana onesie. “happy halloween!”
“coool costume.” banana boy pointed straight right past you.
“is that your boyfriend?” one of the witches added.
your head whipped around to see where the boy pointed at, only to find yunho behind you, (and minjeong trying her best to hide her laughter).
“uh, yeah. he is.” you racked your brain for a story. “he— uh— dressed up as frankenstein tonight.”
“cooool.” the kids chorused.
right on cue, yunho leaned sideways into the doorway, towering over all the kids with the world’s most awkward smile. the kids screamed——not in fear.
in delight.
“whoa, he’s so tall!”
“is he a real frankenstein?”
“he looks so reaaal.”
before you could stop him, yunho raised one hand slowly, robotically, and waved.
“hi.” he said, a little too deep, a little too weird.
you squeaked.
the kids lost their minds.
“HE TALKS TOO.”
“BRO THIS IS SO COOL.”
“HE SOUNDS LIKE A MOVIE CHARACTER.”
you quickly signalled for minjeong to give out the candy as you shoved some candy into the little buckets the kids were holding.
banana boy stared up at yunho. “hey mister frankenstein, what’s your favourite candy?”
silence.
yunho blinked. once. twice. before replying, “…lamp.”
the kids stared at him. wide-eyed. for a beat.
“HE SAID LAMP!!”
“HE’S STAYING IN CHARACTER OMG.”
“YOU’RE SO GOOD AT THIS.”
“mister frankenstein, can you come to our school party?” one of the little witch asked.
“uh— no! he can’t.” you said quickly, gently pushing the kids off the porch so that they could move onto the next house. “he’s uh— grounded! right.”
“grounded?” the vampire kid asked.
you nodded solemnly. “for being too good at halloween.”
the kids accepted this logic like it was law. “cooool. bye mister frankenstein!!”
“bye,” yunho repeated, waving again.
they skipped away into the night, leaving you leaning against the door frame like you’d just survived a horror movie.
“that was… eventful.” you sighed, heading back into the house.
“are you kidding? that was the funniest thing i’ve seen the past year of my life.” minjeong said, coming down from her laughter.
yunho looked down at you with that proud golden retriever expression, as if he knew he’d just nailed halloween.
“i think you’ve just shortened my lifespan, minjeongie.” you plunged headfirst into the couch.
—-
bonus scene:
“minjeong, what do you mean you need me to babysit him for a week??!”
“i’m going back to my hometown, and i can’t just leave him home alone. nor can i bring him back with me. my family will freak.” minjeong said, dragging yunho behind her as yunho smiled and waved at you.
“shoes off, please.” you said, as yunho followed minjeong into your house.
for a second he just tilted his head, confused. then, obediently, he toed off his shoes by the door.
“holy crap,” minjeong muttered. “he listens better than my ex.”
you shot her a look.
“it’s just one week!” minjeong continued. “please?” she gave you her best puppy eyes.
you glanced at her. then at yunho.
he was standing by the door like an oversized child, hands folded in front of him, gaze fixed curiously on a potted plant by the shoe rack. when he reached out and gently poked one of the leaves, he murmured, almost to himself, “soft.”
you sighed. “minjeong, i’m not running a daycare for reanimated science projects.”
“he’s not a project, he’s progress,” she corrected, beaming like a proud mom. “and technically, he’s doing really well with basic commands. look—”
she turned to him. “yunho, wave.”
he immediately raised his hand and gave the smallest, most awkward wave imaginable.
“see? angel behavior. no murders, no lightning crackles, no zombie cravings. he even brushes his teeth now!”
“you taught him to brush his teeth?” you asked, incredulous.
“yeah! mint toothpaste freaked him out at first, but he got used to it.”
you rubbed your temples. “minjeong…”
“y/n,” she said seriously, placing both hands on your shoulders. “i just need one week. seven days. i’ll owe you for life. you want free coffee for a month? done. you want me to pretend to be your fake girlfriend again so your landlord stops asking about your love life? done.”
you blinked. “i thought we swore never to talk about that.”
“desperate times,” she said solemnly.
you looked at yunho again. he’d crouched down now, still by the shoe rack, poking the same plant with scientific fascination.
“…he doesn’t bite, right?”
“only noodles,” minjeong said cheerfully.
you groaned. “fine. but if he burns my kitchen down, i’m billing you for everything.”
“deal!” she said, shoving a duffel bag full of his clothes and “instruction notes” into your hands.
yunho looked up when she started for the door, expression soft and uncertain. “minjeong?”
“you’ll be okay, yunho,” she said brightly. “y/n will take care of you.”
“…take care?” he repeated, glancing at you with wide eyes.
you exhaled. “yeah. i’ll take care of you.”
his lips curved slightly — small, tentative, but genuine.
“then… i will take care of you too.”
minjeong clutched her chest. “oh my god, that’s so cute I could die.”
you glared at her. “go before I change my mind.”
she winked and dashed out the door, leaving you alone with a six-foot-something patchwork man who still thought lamps were magic.
the silence that followed was immediate and thick.
you looked at him.
he looked at you.
“…so,” you said finally, “you hungry?”
he nodded. “always.”
—-
bonus scene #2:
the instructions minjeong gave you clearly stated not to leave yunho home alone. and so, you decided to bring yunho along your weekly grocery shopping trip.
so here you were, on a saturday afternoon, standing in front of your neighborhood supermarket — with yunho trailing two steps behind you like a lost golden retriever in a hoodie.
you tugged the hood lower over his head, just in case. “okay, rule number one: don’t talk too loud. rule number two: don’t stare at people. rule number three: don’t touch anything unless i tell you to.”
he nodded earnestly. “…okay.”
you turned to grab a basket. when you turned back, he was already poking the motion sensor door.
“y/n,” he whispered in awe as it slid open. “it moved.”
“yeah,” you sighed. “that’s a door.”
“it’s alive.”
“no, it’s automatic.”
he blinked at you like that made zero difference. you grabbed his arm before he could start poking the sensor again. “no experimenting with the door, mister frankenstein. let’s go.”
he nodded, looking solemn about it, but as soon as you stepped inside, his head turned in every possible direction —like a kid in a candy store.
you sighed. “just— stay close.”
he nodded. five seconds later, he gasped. “y/n. look. so many oranges.”
“yes, that’s the fruit section.”
“can we take all of them?”
“no.”
“how many, then?”
“one bag.”
“how many in a bag?”
“yunho.”
“…five?”
“sure.”
he grinned, visibly proud of his math, and started counting the oranges one by one. out loud. very loud.
“one… two… three—”
“shhh!” you hissed, dragging the basket closer. “people are staring!” you apologetically bowed to the shoppers around you.
a grandma pushing her cart by gave him a fond smile. “such a helpful young man,” she said.
yunho beamed. “thank you!”
you quickly steered him toward another aisle.
“y/n,” he said seriously as he pointed to the shelves stacked with toilet paper. “why do humans need so much of this?”
you froze. “please don’t—”
“is it for… ritual purposes?”
“no— okay, we’re moving on.”
you moved to the next aisle— snacks, where yunho’s curiosity only worsened. every few seconds, he’d stop, pick something up, sniff it, and then put it in the basket.
“yunho, we don’t need four bags of marshmallows.”
“they look happy.”
“they’re sugar.”
“happy sugar,” he said firmly.
you pinched the bridge of your nose. “you’re lucky you’re cute. minjeong owes me for this.” you muttered under your breath.
“y/n,” he said suddenly, holding up a packet of ramyeon with wide eyes. “this one has fire on it. do humans eat fire?”
you stared at the packet. “that’s spicy. you’ll cry.”
“i want to try crying.”
“i might if we don’t leave soon,” you muttered.
“can i eat the orange in the bag?” he asked.
“we have to pay for it first.” you said, taking a bottle of milk from the cooler section.
he paused, lowering the fruit like it had just betrayed him. “so it’s… not mine yet.”
“exactly.”
he obediently puts the orange back.
when you both got to checkout, he helped place the items on the counter, doing it very gently, and slowly, like each of them were something sacred.
the cashier blinked at him. “uh… you new around here?”
“recently made,” he said earnestly.
you kicked his ankle under the counter. “he means he recently moved here.”
“ah.” the cashier nodded slowly.
as you left the store, yunho held the shopping bags in both hands like a proud parent. “i like grocery,” he said softly. “it’s… warm. and smells nice.”
you glanced up at him— his hood slipping a little, the corner of his smile visible.
“yeah,” you said quietly. “you did good today.”
he brightened immediately. “can we go home and try the fire ramyeon?” he asked.
you nodded. “it’s all yours. i don’t handle spicy well.”
“i will not cry,” he declared solemnly, tightening his grip on the grocery bags.
you snorted. “we’ll see about that.”
“i like grocery,” he said softly. “you look happy here.”
you blinked, glancing up at him. “me?”
“mm.” he nodded. “you smile a lot when you talk to people.”
you swallowed. “that’s… just how shopping works.”
he smiled. “then i like shopping.”
you wouldn’t admit it, but your heart did a flip anyways.
featuring yunho as frankenstein x reader! 4.0k words
where you thought your best friend was joking when she told you she built frankenstein in her house turned lab.
a/n: i initially had a whole mystery plot planned out, but couldn’t finish it in time for halloween, so instead, we get fluffy frankenstein/ golden retriever yunho for halloween. :)) fluff, comedy
you should’ve known that nothing would have gone well when your best friend invited you over to her house during halloween to take what she called a first look at her newest invention — which she named frankenstein, and to which you had just assumed was another one of her overly ambitious animatronics that she would decorate her house with.
last year it was moving skeleton spiders. the year before it was a fog machine that almost burned down her garage. and the year before that was a animatronic zombie butler that nearly burned your sleeve when it was trying to “serve” you.
so when minjeong texted you to “come over and see my latest experiment!” on halloween night, you hadn’t thought too much about it.
“i swear, i just need a little more power.” your best friend grumbled, shoving a mess of tangled wires out of the way as she led you down to her basement.
you could feel the temperature drop three degrees as you hugged yourself tighter as a feeble attempt to keep yourself warm.
the air down there was heavy with the metallic tang of overheated wires, the hum of machinery buzzing faintly through the concrete. the basement had always been minjeong’s personal laboratory of very bad ideas™.
but this time… it looked worse.
there were towers of metal parts stacked against the walls, coils of wire spilling like spilled intestines, and at the center of it all — a massive metal table surrounded by sparking monitors.
“minjeong,” you said, eyebrows furrowed as you took in the franken-lab aesthetic. “please tell me this isn’t another fog machine.”
she snorted, slightly offended. “pfft. no. this is way cooler.”
“i should’ve stayed home.”
“you say that every year.”
“because every halloween something from your house tries to kill me.”
she waved a dismissive hand. “semantics.”
with a flick of her wrist, she gestured toward the table in the center of the room. “that— is my greatest project to date, yet.”
lying on the cold stainless steel table was a man.
or at least, something that looked like one.
his skin was pale, almost luminescent under the harsh fluorescent lights, with faint lines running down his arms and across his chest like a network of careful stitches. his hair was dark and damp, clinging to his forehead. his frame was broad, too perfect in its symmetry — too human to be fake, too still to be real.
“minjeong,” you said slowly, taking a cautious step forward. “that’s not an animatronic, is it?”
“it is!” she insisted, too cheerful, then paused. “…at least, kind of.”
you gawked at her. “kind of?”
“i mean,” she began, looking down at the ground as though she was slightly guilty to admit. “i didn’t build him from scratch. that’d take forever. so I, uh—” she waved a hand in a vague circle— “stitched together the best parts.”
“of what.”
she beamed like a proud golden retriever. “people!”
“minjeong.”
“what?!” she said defensively. “they were all ethically sourced people!”
your jaw dropped. “there’s no such thing as ethically sourced people!”
she scrunched her nose. “well, yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds weird.”
“because it is weird!” you facepalmed yourself.
she rolled her eyes like you were the unreasonable one. “relax. It’s not like I stole anyone. all of it came from donation programs and unclaimed cadavers. totally legal.” a beat. “…mostly.”
you sighed, shaking your head as you took a step closer to get a proper look at his face.
even with the harsh clinical lights in the basement, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. his hair was a dark tousled mess, a few strands falling over his closed eyes, nice cheekbones, lips that looked far too soft—
“why did you have to make him so hot?” you muttered.
“what?” minjeong asked, looking up from the control panel.
“nothing.” you blurted, as you noticed a faint scar that ran down the side of his temple, disappearing into the collar of the hospital-like gown he wore.
minjeong loudly sighed. “well, you won’t have to worry about him waking up anytime soon unless the city’s generous enough to give us a whole city’s worth of energy for a minute to power him up.”
“then maybe you shouldn’t have built a frankenstein in your basement. and stick to something small— like a cute pumpkin lantern or something.”
“no regrets. it was fun! and it’s halloween. i can just leave him here for the time being. he’s technically harmless.”
you gave her a pointed look.
“y/n. i swear nothing in my house is going to try and kill you this year.”
boom.
the overhead light flickers, the machines around the tables whirring to life.
“minjeong, don’t tell me you put a lightning rod on your roof to harness electricity.”
“oops. i… might have.”
“might??!”
“technically it’s an experimental energy conductor.”
another crack of thunder split the sky. the basement shuddering due to the force. the metal table vibrated as raw power surged through the wires and into the still figure lying on it, sparks flying across the floor.
then,
the body on the table jerks once.
twice.
and a shuddering gasp fills the room.
you freeze as the body on the table sits up, his eyes open, pale and glassy at first, then focusing, locking onto you. it’s wrong how human he looks in the stormlight. “yunho… my name is yunho.”
your breath caught in your throat.
minjeong stood frozen at the control panel with a smoking cable in her hand, eyes wide, staring at her own creation. “oh… shit.”
—-
“minjeong, what now?” you whispered, reaching for the nearest weapon you could find, (which turned out to be a wrench).
“um… i don’t know?! i never actually expected this to work!”
“what do you mean you never expected this to work?! you were just so confident in your creation minutes ago!”
yunho’s eyes darted between you and minjeong curiously, which you had to admit, made him look kinda harmless, as his feet slowly touched the ground, as if testing the waters.
“minjeong.” you whispered urgently.
“i don’t know! maybe offer him juice?” she threw her hands up exasperatedly.
yunho tilted his head. “…juice?”
“oh my god. he talks.” minjeong said.
“he literally told us his name. of course he talks!”
“okay, step one: don’t panic.” she exhaled slowly.
“you’re panicking!”
“not helping, y/n.” minjeong whispered, turning to face yunho with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen plastered on her face. “hi… um… yunho, welcome to consciousness.”
you smacked your forehead with your wrench. “oh my god.”
yunho looked at minjeong curiously, as if slowly trying to piece together what she was saying.
“new plan, y/nnie.” minjeong whispered. “we act normal. and just be very good hosts.”
—-
“first things first: he needs proper clothes.” you said to minjeong, gesturing to the worn out hospital gown yunho was wearing.
“oh, yup! i have some spare clothes that my brother left that i would think would be able to fit him.” minjeong said, scrambling down the hallway to look for them.
yunho stood awkwardly in the living room, making it feel more cramped than it should have been.
“you can sit, you know.” you said softly, gesturing to the couch in front of you.
he slowly lowered himself down onto the couch, the old cushions squeaking awkwardly in the silence.
yunho’s hands found the pumpkin shaped throw pillow that minjeong left on the couch and was gently squishing it, his fingers tracing over the stitching curiously.
“y/n.” his voice was quiet.
you froze. “…yeah?”
he pointed to the living room light at the corner. “what is that?”
you blinked. “it’s a lamp.“
“it’s warm.”
“yeah. it’s supposed to be warm.”
minjeong came skidding back into the room, almost tripping over a loose cable, with a pile of clothes in her hands. “we have hoodies, jeans, a coat?” she blinked, looking at how yunho was hugging the pumpkin pillow like a five year old and froze. “what… did i miss?”
you pointed at yunho, still quietly entranced by the warm glow of the lamp. “he discovered electricity.”
“lamp.” yunho said.
“and the pillow?” minjeong asked, bewildered.
“he squished the pillow five times since he sat on the couch.”
minjeong shook her head. “okay. uh, hoodie and sweats?” she asked, holding up a graphic hoodie that looked a little too small before handing it to yunho.
for a moment he just stared at them, long fingers brushing over the fabric, unsure.
“…put them on.” you said.
he nodded slowly, then reached for the hem of his gown.
“wait! no! not here!” you yelped, flailing your hands like an alarmed goose. minjeong immediately doubled over in silent laughter.
yunho froze mid-motion, hands still clutching the edge of the thin hospital gown. you spun around so fast you nearly tripped over the coffee table.
“not here!” you repeated, waving your arms like a human stop sign. “bathroom!” you pointed down the hallway.
“…bathroom?” yunho tilted his head curiously.
“yes. bathroom. privacy. good boy.”
he stood up — all 186 cm of him towering over you— and padded down the hall obediently. minjeong wiped tears of laughter from her face. “i love him,” she wheezed. “he’s like a confused golden retriever trapped in a k-drama.”
“not funny, minjeong.” you hissed, shooting a death glare over your shoulder. “you better control your science project before i have to report him to the police.”
“hey, you said you wanted him clothed!” she snorted.
“not naked first!”
“i think he’s pretty harmless.” minjeong shrugged. “compared to all of my other halloween inventions, he hasn’t even tried to kill you once.”
“yet.”
“relax, y/n. he was literally on the couch hugging the pumpkin pillow. he’s pretty much just a harmless golden retriever that woke up in my basement.” she grinned.
before you could argue, the door creaked open again. yunho emerged in the oversized hoodie and sweatpants — the fabric swallowing his frame, sleeves hanging over his hands. he looked unexplainably soft.
his eyes darted between the two of you, expression careful. “clothes,” he said, voice smaller than before.
uou felt your face do that stupid warm thing. “yeah. good. you look… nice.” you cleared your throat. “comfortable?”
he hesitated, then nodded. “warm.”
minjeong’s eyes gleamed. “see? absolute human behavior. totally harmless. step two: get him some food. he’s probably hungry.”
you shot her a look that said are we really feeding a person brought back to life in your basement, but softened when you saw yunho visibly light up at the word “food”.
minjeong shrugged at you.
“okay, i can cook up some ramyeon.” you sighed, heading toward the kitchen. “but if he has an allergic reaction or something, you’re the one cleaning it up.”
“noted,” minjeong said cheerfully, already crouching near yunho like she was observing a rare species. “don’t worry, big guy. you’re gonna love food. noodles are, like, the pinnacle of human achievement.”
“noodles,” yunho repeated carefully, as if tasting the word before the actual thing.
“yup. long, chewy, life-changing.”
you filled a pot with water, trying not to listen as minjeong continued her impromptu lecture about ramen flavors and msg. when you glanced over your shoulder, you found yunho sitting on the floor beside the couch, still clutching the pumpkin pillow, watching the stove light with wide, fascinated eyes.
he didn’t look away from the flame until the noodles started to boil. when you poured the seasoning in, the scent of spicy soup filled the air, and yunho visibly perked up — like a kid smelling food for the first time.
minjeong leaned against the counter, grinning. “look at him. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say that we are new parents feeding our toddler his first meal.”
“he’s not a toddler, he’s—” you stopped. actually, you weren’t even sure what he was. “—something.”
yunho blinked, watching the steam rise. “smells… good.”
the way he said it — halting, honest, human — made your chest squeeze unexpectedly.
minjeong whispered under her breath, “see? harmless.”
you handed her the ladle. “if he eats your favourite bowl, that’s on you.”
—
after yunho finished the bowl of ramyeon, (which took him less than three minutes), minjeong decided that it was training time.
“y/n.” minjeong declared, already marching toward yunho like a mad scientist approaching her prized experiment. “do you honestly think I spent six months studying nerve reanimation, stealing a defibrillator from the lab, and watching seventeen seasons of medical dramas just to let my beautiful boy stand here and stare at a lamp?”
“yes!” you whispered-yelled. “that’s exactly what I thought you were gonna do!”
she ignored you. of course she did.
yunho, for his part, turned toward her slowly — like an enormous golden retriever trying to figure out what “walks” meant.
“okay, subject,” she said, pulling out a clipboard she absolutely should not have. “test one: following instructions.”
“i hate this,” you muttered.
“yunho,” she said sweetly, “raise your right hand.”
he blinked. then, obediently, raised his hand.
“good boy!” she chirped.
you choked.
she grinned like she’d just been handed a nobel prize. “test two: responding to name. yunho, sit.”
you opened your mouth to protest but—
he sat.
he actually sat.
you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. he looked so proud of himself too, like he’d just solved world hunger.
“oh my god,” your friend whispered in awe. “he’s better trained than my dog.”
“he’s not a pet, he’s a—” you stopped when you realized yunho was now mimicking the way your friend was clapping her hands. a few moments later he was… clapping for himself.
and then smiling. a big, soft, pleased with himself smile.
your heart melted like butter in a frying pan.
“okay,” your friend said, eyes shining with dangerous glee. “test three: emotional response. what happens if i say, ‘good job, yunho,’?”
“don’t—”
she turned toward him. “good job, yunho.”
his head tilted. and then… he smiled wider. this quiet, shy, soft thing that felt like warm sunlight through storm clouds.
you were doomed.
minjeong slapped the clipboard against her palm dramatically. “i have created the perfect human.”
“you created a person,” you hissed. “a confused person who likes lamps and pumpkin pillows and does what he’s told.”
she smirked. “exactly. do you know how many men out there don’t even do step three?”
you had no comeback for that.
in the background, yunho was now carefully trying to high-five himself.
and if as things couldn’t get any worse, the doorbell rang. “trick or treat!”
—
“hello!” you opened the door albeit too cheerfully, forcing a smile as you faced three little witches, a vampire, and a kid in a banana onesie. “happy halloween!”
“coool costume.” banana boy pointed straight right past you.
“is that your boyfriend?” one of the witches added.
your head whipped around to see where the boy pointed at, only to find yunho behind you, (and minjeong trying her best to hide her laughter).
“uh, yeah. he is.” you racked your brain for a story. “he— uh— dressed up as frankenstein tonight.”
“cooool.” the kids chorused.
right on cue, yunho leaned sideways into the doorway, towering over all the kids with the world’s most awkward smile. the kids screamed——not in fear.
in delight.
“whoa, he’s so tall!”
“is he a real frankenstein?”
“he looks so reaaal.”
before you could stop him, yunho raised one hand slowly, robotically, and waved.
“hi.” he said, a little too deep, a little too weird.
you squeaked.
the kids lost their minds.
“HE TALKS TOO.”
“BRO THIS IS SO COOL.”
“HE SOUNDS LIKE A MOVIE CHARACTER.”
you quickly signalled for minjeong to give out the candy as you shoved some candy into the little buckets the kids were holding.
banana boy stared up at yunho. “hey mister frankenstein, what’s your favourite candy?”
silence.
yunho blinked. once. twice. before replying, “…lamp.”
the kids stared at him. wide-eyed. for a beat.
“HE SAID LAMP!!”
“HE’S STAYING IN CHARACTER OMG.”
“YOU’RE SO GOOD AT THIS.”
“mister frankenstein, can you come to our school party?” one of the little witch asked.
“uh— no! he can’t.” you said quickly, gently pushing the kids off the porch so that they could move onto the next house. “he’s uh— grounded! right.”
“grounded?” the vampire kid asked.
you nodded solemnly. “for being too good at halloween.”
the kids accepted this logic like it was law. “cooool. bye mister frankenstein!!”
“bye,” yunho repeated, waving again.
they skipped away into the night, leaving you leaning against the door frame like you’d just survived a horror movie.
“that was… eventful.” you sighed, heading back into the house.
“are you kidding? that was the funniest thing i’ve seen the past year of my life.” minjeong said, coming down from her laughter.
yunho looked down at you with that proud golden retriever expression, as if he knew he’d just nailed halloween.
“i think you’ve just shortened my lifespan, minjeongie.” you plunged headfirst into the couch.
—-
bonus scene:
“minjeong, what do you mean you need me to babysit him for a week??!”
“i’m going back to my hometown, and i can’t just leave him home alone. nor can i bring him back with me. my family will freak.” minjeong said, dragging yunho behind her as yunho smiled and waved at you.
“shoes off, please.” you said, as yunho followed minjeong into your house.
for a second he just tilted his head, confused. then, obediently, he toed off his shoes by the door.
“holy crap,” minjeong muttered. “he listens better than my ex.”
you shot her a look.
“it’s just one week!” minjeong continued. “please?” she gave you her best puppy eyes.
you glanced at her. then at yunho.
he was standing by the door like an oversized child, hands folded in front of him, gaze fixed curiously on a potted plant by the shoe rack. when he reached out and gently poked one of the leaves, he murmured, almost to himself, “soft.”
you sighed. “minjeong, i’m not running a daycare for reanimated science projects.”
“he’s not a project, he’s progress,” she corrected, beaming like a proud mom. “and technically, he’s doing really well with basic commands. look—”
she turned to him. “yunho, wave.”
he immediately raised his hand and gave the smallest, most awkward wave imaginable.
“see? angel behavior. no murders, no lightning crackles, no zombie cravings. he even brushes his teeth now!”
“you taught him to brush his teeth?” you asked, incredulous.
“yeah! mint toothpaste freaked him out at first, but he got used to it.”
you rubbed your temples. “minjeong…”
“y/n,” she said seriously, placing both hands on your shoulders. “i just need one week. seven days. i’ll owe you for life. you want free coffee for a month? done. you want me to pretend to be your fake girlfriend again so your landlord stops asking about your love life? done.”
you blinked. “i thought we swore never to talk about that.”
“desperate times,” she said solemnly.
you looked at yunho again. he’d crouched down now, still by the shoe rack, poking the same plant with scientific fascination.
“…he doesn’t bite, right?”
“only noodles,” minjeong said cheerfully.
you groaned. “fine. but if he burns my kitchen down, i’m billing you for everything.”
“deal!” she said, shoving a duffel bag full of his clothes and “instruction notes” into your hands.
yunho looked up when she started for the door, expression soft and uncertain. “minjeong?”
“you’ll be okay, yunho,” she said brightly. “y/n will take care of you.”
“…take care?” he repeated, glancing at you with wide eyes.
you exhaled. “yeah. i’ll take care of you.”
his lips curved slightly — small, tentative, but genuine.
“then… i will take care of you too.”
minjeong clutched her chest. “oh my god, that’s so cute I could die.”
you glared at her. “go before I change my mind.”
she winked and dashed out the door, leaving you alone with a six-foot-something patchwork man who still thought lamps were magic.
the silence that followed was immediate and thick.
you looked at him.
he looked at you.
“…so,” you said finally, “you hungry?”
he nodded. “always.”
—-
bonus scene #2:
the instructions minjeong gave you clearly stated not to leave yunho home alone. and so, you decided to bring yunho along your weekly grocery shopping trip.
so here you were, on a saturday afternoon, standing in front of your neighborhood supermarket — with yunho trailing two steps behind you like a lost golden retriever in a hoodie.
you tugged the hood lower over his head, just in case. “okay, rule number one: don’t talk too loud. rule number two: don’t stare at people. rule number three: don’t touch anything unless i tell you to.”
he nodded earnestly. “…okay.”
you turned to grab a basket. when you turned back, he was already poking the motion sensor door.
“y/n,” he whispered in awe as it slid open. “it moved.”
“yeah,” you sighed. “that’s a door.”
“it’s alive.”
“no, it’s automatic.”
he blinked at you like that made zero difference. you grabbed his arm before he could start poking the sensor again. “no experimenting with the door, mister frankenstein. let’s go.”
he nodded, looking solemn about it, but as soon as you stepped inside, his head turned in every possible direction —like a kid in a candy store.
you sighed. “just— stay close.”
he nodded. five seconds later, he gasped. “y/n. look. so many oranges.”
“yes, that’s the fruit section.”
“can we take all of them?”
“no.”
“how many, then?”
“one bag.”
“how many in a bag?”
“yunho.”
“…five?”
“sure.”
he grinned, visibly proud of his math, and started counting the oranges one by one. out loud. very loud.
“one… two… three—”
“shhh!” you hissed, dragging the basket closer. “people are staring!” you apologetically bowed to the shoppers around you.
a grandma pushing her cart by gave him a fond smile. “such a helpful young man,” she said.
yunho beamed. “thank you!”
you quickly steered him toward another aisle.
“y/n,” he said seriously as he pointed to the shelves stacked with toilet paper. “why do humans need so much of this?”
you froze. “please don’t—”
“is it for… ritual purposes?”
“no— okay, we’re moving on.”
you moved to the next aisle— snacks, where yunho’s curiosity only worsened. every few seconds, he’d stop, pick something up, sniff it, and then put it in the basket.
“yunho, we don’t need four bags of marshmallows.”
“they look happy.”
“they’re sugar.”
“happy sugar,” he said firmly.
you pinched the bridge of your nose. “you’re lucky you’re cute. minjeong owes me for this.” you muttered under your breath.
“y/n,” he said suddenly, holding up a packet of ramyeon with wide eyes. “this one has fire on it. do humans eat fire?”
you stared at the packet. “that’s spicy. you’ll cry.”
“i want to try crying.”
“i might if we don’t leave soon,” you muttered.
“can i eat the orange in the bag?” he asked.
“we have to pay for it first.” you said, taking a bottle of milk from the cooler section.
he paused, lowering the fruit like it had just betrayed him. “so it’s… not mine yet.”
“exactly.”
he obediently puts the orange back.
when you both got to checkout, he helped place the items on the counter, doing it very gently, and slowly, like each of them were something sacred.
the cashier blinked at him. “uh… you new around here?”
“recently made,” he said earnestly.
you kicked his ankle under the counter. “he means he recently moved here.”
“ah.” the cashier nodded slowly.
as you left the store, yunho held the shopping bags in both hands like a proud parent. “i like grocery,” he said softly. “it’s… warm. and smells nice.”
you glanced up at him— his hood slipping a little, the corner of his smile visible.
“yeah,” you said quietly. “you did good today.”
he brightened immediately. “can we go home and try the fire ramyeon?” he asked.
you nodded. “it’s all yours. i don’t handle spicy well.”
“i will not cry,” he declared solemnly, tightening his grip on the grocery bags.
you snorted. “we’ll see about that.”
“i like grocery,” he said softly. “you look happy here.”
you blinked, glancing up at him. “me?”
“mm.” he nodded. “you smile a lot when you talk to people.”
you swallowed. “that’s… just how shopping works.”
he smiled. “then i like shopping.”
you wouldn’t admit it, but your heart did a flip anyways.
pairings: est. relationship idol jeong yunho x reader
genre: pure fluff, (part of the domestic diaries series), 2.3k words
summary: in where, you go on tour with yunho. mentions of flights and hotel rooms. read another part here
a/n: yunho is a whole walking green forest. how do i get a yunho?
it started off as a joke. at first. when the nine of you sat in a circle (not summoning a demon, i swear) and wooyoung suggested you to drop everything you had for a month and go with them for the europe leg of the tour. as a staff member.
“come on, it’ll be fun. and yunho here won’t get all lovesick like a puppy who got abandoned his owner.”
you shook your head. “wooyoung, no. i have a job—“
wooyoung cuts in. “and you have a once in a lifetime opportunity! besides, you can have a new one: emotional support girlfriend / semi-staff / part-time snack manager.”
you groan, burying your head into yunho’s shoulder while everyone laughs.
“you get to have a peek into what we do everyday.” mingi says.
“you get to hoard european snacks. eat macarons in paris. label yunho’s socks in every country.” jongho continued.
“i already do that…” you mutter, your voice muffled.
you lift your head, ready to protest, but the hopeful look in yunho’s eyes stopped you. those puppy eyes.
he hesitated. “only if you want to.” he says softly. “but i think i would sleep better with you by my side.”
your breath hitches as you feel a light flutter in your chest. the room goes quiet for a moment.
and then wooyoung claps his hands dramatically. “that’s it. she’s going. i’m packing her bags. and i’m talking to the ceo as his favourite child.”
and that’s how you ended up on flight 472 to berlin.
yunho was supposed to be in 2C— reclining seats, hot towels, an upgraded menu, business. and you were supposed to be in 36B. at the back. in the middle seat. economy. maybe in between two of the staff members.
it’s a full service airline with three meals and it’s not even uncomfortable. you’ve flown worse. this is considered luxury for you.
but you catch yunho glancing back at you worriedly before he boarded the plane first.
as soon as the seatbelt sign switched off one hour into the flight, you were already tucked comfortably under the blanket, headphones on as you were ready to binge watch the entire eight films of harry potter the on air entertainment had to offer. you never thought much of it when your aisle seatmate disappeared for over ten minutes (you just assumed the queue for the lavatory was long) until you spotted a six foot tall burrito (wrapped in a business class blanket) waddling over to your row. and plopping down to the now empty seat next to you.
you blink in disbelief, putting the sorcerer’s stone on pause. “…yunho?”
he shrinks a little into the seat, curling slightly under the blanket before tilting his head just enough to peek out from beneath his baseball cap — tugged so low it nearly swallowed his entire face. not to mention the hoodie and the mask. (the only thing you could see were his eyes, barely)
“…yeah?” he mumbles, his voice still muffled by the mask he was still wearing, eyes peeking up like a guilty puppy.
“what are you doing here?”
“sitting next to you.”
“but you had a recliner seat!”you whisper-yelled.
“yeah,” he says softly. “but i didn’t have you.”
you stare at him. dumbfounded. mouth slightly opened.
he stares back. smiling. unapologetic. half-buried in layers of hoodie and a blanket.
then, he slides a pack of business class cookies into your palm. (the ones they always give before landing. the same ones that he would always bring home for you (even though they get a little crushed in his bag), because you liked them. “here. for you.”
you look at the packet in your palm, then at him. “i thought they only gave this before landing?”
he shrugs lightly. “they do. but i asked them to pay it forward.”
“what about your seat in business class?” you asked.
he leans back, stretching his legs as much as the cramped space between the rows would let him. “i switched it with your seat mate.”
“you what—?”
“didn’t you notice he was gone for over ten minutes?”
you stare at him in disbelief, the cookie still untouched in your hand.
“yunho.”
“he was happy. said he was super thankful. he’s one of our staff anyway— they work hard. they deserve an upgrade too.”
“so… you bribed him with a business seat?”
“and i gave him my extra dessert.”
“of course you did.” you mutter, shaking your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips. how did the most ridiculous, good-looking, six-foot, golden retriever, kind-hearted man end up in love with you?
you glance sideways at him, curled up awkwardly in the tiny seat, knees pressed to the tray table, the blanket tucked up all the way to his chin. “yunho.” you murmur, voice low and full of quiet disbelief. “are you really willing to suffer with me on this 12-hour flight in economy?”
he turns to you, eyes soft beneath the brim of his cap. no hesitation.
“i’ll suffer anywhere if it’s with you.”
in that moment, your heart does a full flip. you felt like a giddy teenager in love. you huff a tiny breath, tugging your own blanket up and over him, draping over his shoulders so it covers the both of you. (so that he can’t see the blush creeping up your face)
“okay then,” you say, sliding your hand into his as you lean against his shoulder. “let’s start binge watching harry potter.”
“only if you start from the goblet of fire. you always fall asleep in the first three.”
“not this time. i won’t.”
—-
you did. you didn’t even manage to make it through the first half of the second movie before you dozed off against yunho’s shoulder, the crumpled cookie wrapper still tucked loosely in your hand.
you only woke up when yunho gently nudged you as the food trolley made its way down the aisle. you stirred slowly, still tucked beneath the blanket you threw over the both of you hours ago, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the cabin light around you. your screen had already faded to black, the movie long finished.
“you slept through almost half of the movie.” he said softly, his hood fallen, his mask long forgotten and his eyes puffy from sleep as he unfolded your tray table in front of you. “and i didn’t want you to miss the food. they have a few options: sandwiches, spaghetti or teriyaki chicken.”
“what are you getting?” you asked softly.
“i was gonna wait for you.” he murmured. “but probably the chicken.”
“okay. then i’ll get spaghetti. we can share.” you mumbled, yawning into the sleeve of your hoodie, head still resting against his shoulder.
you felt him shift slightly as he politely placed both meal orders when the food cart made its way to your row.
“one chicken. one spaghetti. thank you.”
your eyes were still half-lidded when the trays were placed on your table, steam curling up faintly from the foil covers. yunho peeled them open carefully, sliding your drink toward you before unwrapping his own utensils.
“eat slowly.” he said handing you a fork. “you’re still waking up.”
“you’re always too good to me,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.
he glanced sideways at you, a soft smile forming at the corner of his lips. “i just love you. even when you drool on my shoulder.”
you gasp. “i didn’t—”
“it’s okay,” he teases, leaning in. “i still love you.”
—-
“yuyu, we’re almost landing. you should go back to your seat.” you tapped his shoulders gently as the landing announcement came on.
he stirred, blinking slowly before glancing out the window at the city skyline below. then, he looked at you. your blanket now pooled around your waist, hair slightly tousled from sleep, eyes still soft. you catch the way how he looked more tired than usual, the weight under his eyes.
he didn’t move.
“yunho.” you say again, gentle but firmer. “you need to get down with the group, or the fans are going to get suspicious. i’ll meet you again after baggage claim.”
he exhaled through his nose, like a stubborn kid being told recess is over, but eventually sat up straighter and stretched his neck with a wince.
“i think my soul left my body halfway through hour eight.”
you chuckled, brushing a crumb off his hoodie.
“your soul better come back before the fans see you.”
he gave you a sleepy, knowing smile, then tugged his cap lower and reached for the business class blanket still draped across his lap.
just before he stood, he leaned in one last time and whispered, “text me when you get off. i’ll get your bag for you at baggage claim.”
then he slipped out of the seat and shuffled quietly down the aisle, blending back into the cabin like he was never there.
—-
you just got through immigration when your phone lights up.
yuyu 💛:
you okay?
you:
yup. just got through immigration. coming out with the others now.
yuyu 💛:
:) okay. got your bag. just head straight for the third van from the front. my hand is cold and it needs yours to warm it up.
you:
…yunho. you’re literally a giant heater. and we were literally on the plane together for twelve hours.
yuyu 💛:
yeah but you were asleep for most of it. and then you told me to go back to my seat 😔
you:
you’re so dramatic.
yuyu 💛:
cold. neglected. emotionally abandoned. only a hug will fix it. and a kiss. maybe two. three if you feel bad.
you sigh, but you’re smiling, helpless. your heart is already racing even as you walk past the glass doors.
your phone buzzes again.
yuyu 💛:
i see you. van door’s open. don’t run. your safety is my number one priority. :)
—-
bonus scene:
you should’ve known better when you spotted a size ten shoe in your hotel room.
you were supposed to room with one of the staff members, one of the stylists that you had met before, who even texted you earlier with “see you in the room!” and a sleepy emoji. but instead, you find yunho’s jacket slung across the room chair, his charger plugged into his phone at his bedside.
you freeze in the doorway. and blink. twice.
almost on cue, the bathroom door swings open and yunho out, towel drying his hair, wearing your hoodie. (well, not literally your hoodie but you stole it from him months ago so it’s technically yours and you packed it to wear on this trip)
“oh, you’re here.” he says casually, as if it was his room all along, and this wasn’t wildly suspicious.
“i would ask what are you doing here but i think i know the answer to that question. you offered a free upgrade to my roommate again, didn’t you?”
he smiled sheepishly. “well, manager hyung said it’s okay and she didn’t mind the single room so…”
“yunho.” you sighed. loudly. “this was supposed to be a professional trip. and you’re in my hoodie.”
“it was at the top of your suitcase.” he defended. “and my suitcase is still in the other van. traffic.”
you raised a brow. “so your first instinct was to dig through my stuff? not mingi’s?”
“mingi’s clothes don’t smell like you.” he replied instantly.
“that’s not a valid reason.”
“it’s the only reason.”
“i should be concerned about how fast you said that.” you muttered, flopping onto your bed and staring at the ceiling. (yes, it’s two separate single beds because yunho was not meant to be your roommate)
he shifted, propping his head on his arms to face you. “relax. i didn’t wrinkle anything. you know i’m tidier than you anyways. and i saw the cute pair of socks that had mini ducks on them.”
you turned your head enough to squint at him. “you dug around enough to find my duck socks?”
“maybe?” he answers shamelessly. “i didn’t know you like ducks that much.”
“…you found my duck pajamas too, didn’t you?”
he gave you a look — the kind that said absolutely yes without saying anything at all.
“…did you find your pair?” you asked softly.
“wait. you bought me a pair too?”
you nodded shyly. “it was on sale. and it was cute. and matching. wooyoung insisted that i bring it. saying something about how we would end up together most of the time during the tour.”
he grins, wide and blinding. and stupidly fond. “you got us matching pajamas?”
“it’s in the secret compartment in my bag. i’m going to take a shower.” you mumbled, embarrassed, grabbing your towel and the duck pajamas as you stood from the bed.
and when you stepped out of the shower, towelling dry your hair in your duck pajamas, you see yunho already in the matching set you got for him. (which made him adorably cute)
and the two single beds were no longer single. pushed together as if they had never been apart. the sheets slightly wrinkled from the effort.
and, of course, he had already claimed your side of the bed.
“wooyoung was right. we really would end up together most of the tour.” you muttered softly before climbing under the covers beside him.
he didn’t say anything at first. just shifted closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and gently pulling you closer. something he has done a thousand times. “and he was right about bringing you along too.”
nothing beats a jet2holiday. literally. (except you)
established relationship! idol! jeong yunho x reader
genre: fluff, comedy, 2.5k words
summary: in where, you never expected for yunho to show up at your door at 2a.m. especially when he's supposed to be on tour. (part of the domestic diaries series!) read another part here
a/n: this is not sponsored. and yes, i turned a whole ad into a fic :)) i had so much fun writing this. p.s. i watched too many rom-coms the past week.
you never expected yunho to turn up at your door like that. especially not after one of his shows in london just the day before and his next show was just four days away in paris. and certainly not at 2a.m. in the morning.
you tried your best to rub the sleep from your eyes as you opened the door in your duck pajamas.
“who— yunho?”
he stood there in your apartment hallway, shifting from foot to foot, backpack slung across his shoulders, his mask tucked under his chin.
“surprise…?” he said softly, smiling that big goofy smile at you. as if he didn’t catch the last flight out to see you.
your jaw dropped. you blinked. hard. twice. just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. that it wasn’t just a dream and the lack of sleep was catching up to you.
he gave a little wave with the hand not holding his phone.
“well,” he continued. “you said wish you were here. and you sent me loads of that jet2holiday meme on the internet all week. it was cheap. so, i, uh, booked a jet2flight to see you.” he scratched the back of his neck, his voice hoarse from the cold, or maybe the lack of use during the flight.
you stared.
he stared back. sheepishly smiling. “you’re wearing your duck pajamas.”
you groaned. “i swear the duck pajamas is always at the scene of the crime.”
you gently pulled him into your apartment and as soon as the door clicked shut, you immediately buried yourself into his chest. “i missed you.” you mumbled softly.
he wraps his arms tightly around you, like he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart, as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold you a little tighter. “i think i missed you more.”
you huffed into his hoodie, a soft laugh muffled against him. “so much that you booked a jet2 flight to see me?”
“they’re not wrong when they said nothing beats a jet2holiday.” he replied, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, his grin still evident on his face. “except you.”
you bury your face into his hoodie, trying (and failing) to hide the blush creeping up your face. “jeong yunho… when did you get so smooth?”
“i’ve had time to prepare my material. i haven’t seen you in too long.” he said, arms still wrapped snugly around you.
all of those phone calls couldn’t compare to this.
“yunho…”you hesitated, glancing up at him. “does your manager know?”
“you told hongjoong but not your manager? i think your manager wants to kill me.” you groan.
“he would never. you’re too important for my heart.” he kissed the top of your head. “plus, i would need someone to cover for me if i didn’t make it back in time.”
your jaw dropped. “yunho!”
“relax, i’ll be back before paris.” he said casually, like he’d just popped out to the convenience store and not literally fled the country for you. plus risked a manager-induced death sentence. “and hongjoong enabled this. hongjoong believes in love.”
you narrowed your eyes.
“…unbelievable.”
he grinned, letting you tug him gently toward your room, and trailing behind you like a lost puppy.
“what if i wasn’t home?” you asked, handing him a towel from your shelf.
he looked up.
“what?”
“i mean, seriously. what if i didn’t open the door? what if i was out? or asleep? or just… simply didn’t hear you knock?”
yunho stopped behind you. his lips twitched.
“you? out?”
you blinked.
“you begged me not to drag you out of the house when we’re together. you actively protest fresh air. the odds of you being anywhere but here at 2 a.m. are lower than the price of my jet2 flight.”
you opened your mouth to argue, and then promptly closed it again.
“…okay, fair.”
he stepped closer, leaning in to nudge his forehead against the side of your head.
“you were home. i knew you’d be home.”
“yeah, but what if—”
“i would’ve sat outside like a tragic gwishin with unfinished business until you opened the door.”
“yunho.”
“i would’ve survived. i had snacks in my bag.”
“oh my god.”
you laughed despite yourself, nudging him with your elbow as you pushed open your bathroom door.
yunho’s eyes softened as he watched you turn to grab the spare toothbrush you kept tucked behind the mirror, like you were preparing for this exact moment without ever admitting it.
“i’ll be right outside.” you muttered softly, giving him a soft smile and making your way back into your room.
the bathroom door clicked shut behind you as you padded back to your bed and crawled under the covers, heart thudding just a little faster than it had any right to.
he was here.
in your bathroom. using your toothbrush. your towel. sharing your toothpaste.
he came all the way here. for you.
the bathroom door creaked open a few minutes later, steam curling out into the room. yunho stepped out in one of the spare clothes he brought along with him, which happened to be the duck pajamas matching set you bought for him last tour.
yellow. comfy. adorable.
his hair was still damp from the shower, just falling below his eyes. he grinned at you. “this reminds me about the time when you came along last tour.”
you smiled at the memory. “when you bribed my roommate?”
“mmhm.” he hummed. “no regrets though.”
“you gave her your single room. and chocolate.”
that had been such a whirlwind trip. stolen moments between rehearsals, shared meals in dimly lit hotel rooms, falling asleep to the sound of him humming whatever song had been stuck in his head that week, him being stuck with you in economy seats. you hadn’t even meant to go. but yunho had asked you, and smiled that same boyish smile he was giving you right now.
“the hairdryer is in the bottom drawer.” you nodded towards the dresser.
he padded over and crouched to open it, tugging the handle with one hand while the other pushed his damp hair out of his face. you watched as he fished out the dryer, then paused to glance over his shoulder. “do you mind if i dry my hair in here?”
“not at all.” you patted the empty space next to you. “come here.”
he hesitated for a second, then crossed the room, hairdryer in one hand, heart basically in the other.
the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. you took the dryer from his hands without a word, and plugged it in, moving to kneel behind him and gently running your hand through his hair as the low whir of warm air filled the room.
“you’re really good at this.” he murmured softly, leaning into your touch.
you smiled, smoothing your fingers through his damp hair as you moved the hairdryer slowly. “i should be. i’ve had practice. you made me do this in like four different countries.”
he huffed a quiet laugh. “you always did it better than i could. and your touch is always better than the hotel air.”
“well, you bribed me with room service.”
“and forehead kisses.”
“true. that too.”
eventually, you clicked the dryer off and set it aside, running your hands through his now-dry hair to shake out the last bit of dampness.
“all done,” you whispered.
he turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a small smile, his hair fluffed and curling slightly at the ends, his eyes soft and half-lidded from sleep. “thank you.”
“only for my favourite international fugitive.” you teased.
“favourite? so there are others?”
“well,” you drawled, settling beside him, “the one who brought me macarons from paris last year still holds a special place in my heart.”
he groaned dramatically and dropped his head to your shoulder.
“i knew those macarons would come back to haunt me. don’t my business class cookies make up for it?” he pouted at you with the most ridiculous kicked-puppy expression.
“they were pistachio. i don’t forget pistachio.”
he nuzzled closer, pulling you down with him so you’re laying on his chest. “i promise to get you dubai chocolate the next time. from that fancy shop wooyoung keeps going off about.”
“deal.” you smiled sleepily, eyes fluttering close. “now go to sleep, yuyu. i’ll be right here when you wake up.”
—-
bonus scene:
buzz.
buzz.
buzz.
“don’t move.” you mumbled, voice still rough with sleep as you tightened your arms around yunho. “you’re warm.”
“so is hell.” yunho whispered back. “and i think that’s where hongjoong is going to send me.”
18 messages. from hongjoong. and the most recent one read:
hongjoong:
JEONG YUNHO. WHERE ARE YOU?? YOU PROMISED TO BE BACK IN 24-HOURS. IT’S BEEN FOURTY-EIGHT. MANAGER-NIM IS COMING FOR MY HEAD.
yunho winced, tilting his phone to satisfy your curious gaze.
you winced in sympathy. “…that’s a lot of caps.”
“he’s going to shave my head in my sleep.” he muttered, tapping his phone nervously.
hongjoong:
DON’T JUST LEAVE MY MESSAGES ON READ. OR I’LL GIVE YOUR SOLO SONG TO SAN.
yunho let out a genuine noise of panic. “he’s not kidding.”
“yunho. he never is. captain is angry angry. though having san covering your song is not a bad idea—“
right on cue:
choi san:
…why me?
yeosang:
yunho. please come back and spare us from hongjoong hyung’s wrath.
jongho:
y/n. if you’re reading this please save us. please ask your golden retriever of a boyfriend to come back. i’m begging you.
you laughed so hard you had to bury your face in his shoulder to muffle it.
“golden retriever of a boyfriend.” you repeated, grinning stupidly into his hoodie.
yunho collapsed onto the pillow with a groan.
“i can’t even be mad. it’s accurate.”
“very,” you said, smiling down at him. “do i text them back? or are you going to crawl under the blankets and fake your death?”
“tempting,” he muttered. “but if i don’t get on that plane, san really will be forced to learn my choreo and cry.”
“at this point, san is just the scapegoat.” you laughed, reaching for your phone and typing a reply into the group chat.
you:
he’s alive. well-fed. mildly guilty. packing now.
i’ll personally escort him to the airport if that’s what it takes. with snacks.
hang in there. 🫠
yunho groaned and flopped onto his back, flinging a hand dramatically over his face.
“do you think if i stay here long enough, they’ll just assume i’ve defected and replace me with a hologram?”
“do you think hongjoong won’t find a way to teleport here himself?”
“…right. i’ll go pack.”
“your manager is really going to kill me.” you muttered under your breath as you handed him the hoodie he left crumpled on the chair.
“they said that they’re going to send wooyoung next— speak of the devil, yunho, he’s calling.”
yunho peeked at the screen and visibly flinched. “should i answer?”
“you better. or he’s going to come for me instead.”
with a groan that sounded very much like someone walking into their own funeral, yunho tapped accept and put the phone on speaker.
wooyoung didn’t waste a second.
“YUNHO. WHY ARE WE REHEARSING WITH A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF YOU.”
yunho nearly dropped the phone.
“wait—what?!”
“seonghwa printed it and gave it a mic stand, yunho. a mic stand. you left a mic-shaped hole in this group and now you’ve been replaced with laminated paper.”
you choked on a laugh.
“hi, wooyoung,” you called sweetly. “sorry for stealing him.”
“y/n. please. for the love of jongho’s remaining patience, escort this man to the airport before hongjoong explodes. or combusts. or, wait hang on—”
there was a pause.
“…okay now he’s pacing and muttering choreography corrections to the cardboard. this is getting dark. do something. oh, yunho, why did you abandon us in the name of love?” wooyoung continued.
yunho glanced at you, then shrugged, like the answer was obvious.
“cause… nothing beats a jet2holiday?”
there was a beat of stunned silence on the other end.
“y/n,” wooyoung said flatly. “you’ve officially broken him.”
you tried to bite back a laugh, failing instantly as yunho beamed with zero shame.
“he’s beyond repair,” wooyoung continued. “he’s quoting travel memes, y/n. jet2 memes. hongjoong’s going to shave his head and yours for good measure.”
“guilty as charged. sorry not sorry for sending him all those tiktoks the past week.”
you hear wooyoung heave a big sigh over the phone. a long, suffering, i-aged-three-years-in-three-minutes kind of sigh. “i’m ending the call. y/n, i’m trusting you to ship him off to us in one piece and—“
“will do! bye, wooyoung!” you chirped quickly, not giving him the chance to spiral into another dramatic monologue.
you reached over and cheerfully tapped end call before he could finish, the screen going blissfully silent.
yunho blinked.
“you hung up on him.”
“i did,” you replied, completely unbothered. “for your sake.”
“and his blood pressure,” he added with a grin.
“exactly.”
yunho looked at you helplessly, hoodie half on, pillow marks still on his cheek as you playfully hit him with one of your pillows.
“okay, okay. i’m going. i’m going.”
“you better be on a plane before the cutout gets fan mail.”
he snorted, catching the pillow and pulling you into his arms.
“and yet, hongjoong might flatten me as soon as i land.” he muttered into your hair.
“please don’t allow him to.”you said, shaking your head slightly. “i like you three-dimensional.”
he smiled, soft and crooked and maybe, just a little lovesick.
“you like me that much, huh?”
“i like you just enough to keep you from being turned into a 2D anime character.”
he laughed, tightening his hold around your waist.
“guess i’ll have to make it back in one piece then.”
“exactly. so no detours, no last-minute snack missions, no pretending to miss your flight because ‘the stars told you to stay’.”
“no promises.” he smirked, already sounding like he was planning to do at least two of those things.
“yunho.” you deadpanned.
he blinked innocently.
“what?”
“hongjoong is going to haunt me in my sleep if you don’t get on your flight.”
you reached up to fix a strand of his hair sticking out from under his hoodie, and brushed a wrinkle from his sleeve.
“i’ll miss you.” he said softly.
you squeezed his fingers gently, trying not to show too much of how tightly your heart pulled. “i’ll miss you too. now go get on a plane before your leader combusts.”
“yes, ma’am.”
he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, reluctant fingers brushing your hand as he pulled away.
nothing beats a jet2holiday. literally. (except you)
established relationship! idol! jeong yunho x reader
genre: fluff, comedy, 2.5k words
summary: in where, you never expected for yunho to show up at your door at 2a.m. especially when he's supposed to be on tour. (part of the domestic diaries series!) read another part here
a/n: this is not sponsored. and yes, i turned a whole ad into a fic :)) i had so much fun writing this. p.s. i watched too many rom-coms the past week.
you never expected yunho to turn up at your door like that. especially not after one of his shows in london just the day before and his next show was just four days away in paris. and certainly not at 2a.m. in the morning.
you tried your best to rub the sleep from your eyes as you opened the door in your duck pajamas.
“who— yunho?”
he stood there in your apartment hallway, shifting from foot to foot, backpack slung across his shoulders, his mask tucked under his chin.
“surprise…?” he said softly, smiling that big goofy smile at you. as if he didn’t catch the last flight out to see you.
your jaw dropped. you blinked. hard. twice. just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. that it wasn’t just a dream and the lack of sleep was catching up to you.
he gave a little wave with the hand not holding his phone.
“well,” he continued. “you said wish you were here. and you sent me loads of that jet2holiday meme on the internet all week. it was cheap. so, i, uh, booked a jet2flight to see you.” he scratched the back of his neck, his voice hoarse from the cold, or maybe the lack of use during the flight.
you stared.
he stared back. sheepishly smiling. “you’re wearing your duck pajamas.”
you groaned. “i swear the duck pajamas is always at the scene of the crime.”
you gently pulled him into your apartment and as soon as the door clicked shut, you immediately buried yourself into his chest. “i missed you.” you mumbled softly.
he wraps his arms tightly around you, like he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart, as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold you a little tighter. “i think i missed you more.”
you huffed into his hoodie, a soft laugh muffled against him. “so much that you booked a jet2 flight to see me?”
“they’re not wrong when they said nothing beats a jet2holiday.” he replied, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, his grin still evident on his face. “except you.”
you bury your face into his hoodie, trying (and failing) to hide the blush creeping up your face. “jeong yunho… when did you get so smooth?”
“i’ve had time to prepare my material. i haven’t seen you in too long.” he said, arms still wrapped snugly around you.
all of those phone calls couldn’t compare to this.
“yunho…”you hesitated, glancing up at him. “does your manager know?”
“you told hongjoong but not your manager? i think your manager wants to kill me.” you groan.
“he would never. you’re too important for my heart.” he kissed the top of your head. “plus, i would need someone to cover for me if i didn’t make it back in time.”
your jaw dropped. “yunho!”
“relax, i’ll be back before paris.” he said casually, like he’d just popped out to the convenience store and not literally fled the country for you. plus risked a manager-induced death sentence. “and hongjoong enabled this. hongjoong believes in love.”
you narrowed your eyes.
“…unbelievable.”
he grinned, letting you tug him gently toward your room, and trailing behind you like a lost puppy.
“what if i wasn’t home?” you asked, handing him a towel from your shelf.
he looked up.
“what?”
“i mean, seriously. what if i didn’t open the door? what if i was out? or asleep? or just… simply didn’t hear you knock?”
yunho stopped behind you. his lips twitched.
“you? out?”
you blinked.
“you begged me not to drag you out of the house when we’re together. you actively protest fresh air. the odds of you being anywhere but here at 2 a.m. are lower than the price of my jet2 flight.”
you opened your mouth to argue, and then promptly closed it again.
“…okay, fair.”
he stepped closer, leaning in to nudge his forehead against the side of your head.
“you were home. i knew you’d be home.”
“yeah, but what if—”
“i would’ve sat outside like a tragic gwishin with unfinished business until you opened the door.”
“yunho.”
“i would’ve survived. i had snacks in my bag.”
“oh my god.”
you laughed despite yourself, nudging him with your elbow as you pushed open your bathroom door.
yunho’s eyes softened as he watched you turn to grab the spare toothbrush you kept tucked behind the mirror, like you were preparing for this exact moment without ever admitting it.
“i’ll be right outside.” you muttered softly, giving him a soft smile and making your way back into your room.
the bathroom door clicked shut behind you as you padded back to your bed and crawled under the covers, heart thudding just a little faster than it had any right to.
he was here.
in your bathroom. using your toothbrush. your towel. sharing your toothpaste.
he came all the way here. for you.
the bathroom door creaked open a few minutes later, steam curling out into the room. yunho stepped out in one of the spare clothes he brought along with him, which happened to be the duck pajamas matching set you bought for him last tour.
yellow. comfy. adorable.
his hair was still damp from the shower, just falling below his eyes. he grinned at you. “this reminds me about the time when you came along last tour.”
you smiled at the memory. “when you bribed my roommate?”
“mmhm.” he hummed. “no regrets though.”
“you gave her your single room. and chocolate.”
that had been such a whirlwind trip. stolen moments between rehearsals, shared meals in dimly lit hotel rooms, falling asleep to the sound of him humming whatever song had been stuck in his head that week, him being stuck with you in economy seats. you hadn’t even meant to go. but yunho had asked you, and smiled that same boyish smile he was giving you right now.
“the hairdryer is in the bottom drawer.” you nodded towards the dresser.
he padded over and crouched to open it, tugging the handle with one hand while the other pushed his damp hair out of his face. you watched as he fished out the dryer, then paused to glance over his shoulder. “do you mind if i dry my hair in here?”
“not at all.” you patted the empty space next to you. “come here.”
he hesitated for a second, then crossed the room, hairdryer in one hand, heart basically in the other.
the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. you took the dryer from his hands without a word, and plugged it in, moving to kneel behind him and gently running your hand through his hair as the low whir of warm air filled the room.
“you’re really good at this.” he murmured softly, leaning into your touch.
you smiled, smoothing your fingers through his damp hair as you moved the hairdryer slowly. “i should be. i’ve had practice. you made me do this in like four different countries.”
he huffed a quiet laugh. “you always did it better than i could. and your touch is always better than the hotel air.”
“well, you bribed me with room service.”
“and forehead kisses.”
“true. that too.”
eventually, you clicked the dryer off and set it aside, running your hands through his now-dry hair to shake out the last bit of dampness.
“all done,” you whispered.
he turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a small smile, his hair fluffed and curling slightly at the ends, his eyes soft and half-lidded from sleep. “thank you.”
“only for my favourite international fugitive.” you teased.
“favourite? so there are others?”
“well,” you drawled, settling beside him, “the one who brought me macarons from paris last year still holds a special place in my heart.”
he groaned dramatically and dropped his head to your shoulder.
“i knew those macarons would come back to haunt me. don’t my business class cookies make up for it?” he pouted at you with the most ridiculous kicked-puppy expression.
“they were pistachio. i don’t forget pistachio.”
he nuzzled closer, pulling you down with him so you’re laying on his chest. “i promise to get you dubai chocolate the next time. from that fancy shop wooyoung keeps going off about.”
“deal.” you smiled sleepily, eyes fluttering close. “now go to sleep, yuyu. i’ll be right here when you wake up.”
—-
bonus scene:
buzz.
buzz.
buzz.
“don’t move.” you mumbled, voice still rough with sleep as you tightened your arms around yunho. “you’re warm.”
“so is hell.” yunho whispered back. “and i think that’s where hongjoong is going to send me.”
18 messages. from hongjoong. and the most recent one read:
hongjoong:
JEONG YUNHO. WHERE ARE YOU?? YOU PROMISED TO BE BACK IN 24-HOURS. IT’S BEEN FOURTY-EIGHT. MANAGER-NIM IS COMING FOR MY HEAD.
yunho winced, tilting his phone to satisfy your curious gaze.
you winced in sympathy. “…that’s a lot of caps.”
“he’s going to shave my head in my sleep.” he muttered, tapping his phone nervously.
hongjoong:
DON’T JUST LEAVE MY MESSAGES ON READ. OR I’LL GIVE YOUR SOLO SONG TO SAN.
yunho let out a genuine noise of panic. “he’s not kidding.”
“yunho. he never is. captain is angry angry. though having san covering your song is not a bad idea—“
right on cue:
choi san:
…why me?
yeosang:
yunho. please come back and spare us from hongjoong hyung’s wrath.
jongho:
y/n. if you’re reading this please save us. please ask your golden retriever of a boyfriend to come back. i’m begging you.
you laughed so hard you had to bury your face in his shoulder to muffle it.
“golden retriever of a boyfriend.” you repeated, grinning stupidly into his hoodie.
yunho collapsed onto the pillow with a groan.
“i can’t even be mad. it’s accurate.”
“very,” you said, smiling down at him. “do i text them back? or are you going to crawl under the blankets and fake your death?”
“tempting,” he muttered. “but if i don’t get on that plane, san really will be forced to learn my choreo and cry.”
“at this point, san is just the scapegoat.” you laughed, reaching for your phone and typing a reply into the group chat.
you:
he’s alive. well-fed. mildly guilty. packing now.
i’ll personally escort him to the airport if that’s what it takes. with snacks.
hang in there. 🫠
yunho groaned and flopped onto his back, flinging a hand dramatically over his face.
“do you think if i stay here long enough, they’ll just assume i’ve defected and replace me with a hologram?”
“do you think hongjoong won’t find a way to teleport here himself?”
“…right. i’ll go pack.”
“your manager is really going to kill me.” you muttered under your breath as you handed him the hoodie he left crumpled on the chair.
“they said that they’re going to send wooyoung next— speak of the devil, yunho, he’s calling.”
yunho peeked at the screen and visibly flinched. “should i answer?”
“you better. or he’s going to come for me instead.”
with a groan that sounded very much like someone walking into their own funeral, yunho tapped accept and put the phone on speaker.
wooyoung didn’t waste a second.
“YUNHO. WHY ARE WE REHEARSING WITH A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF YOU.”
yunho nearly dropped the phone.
“wait—what?!”
“seonghwa printed it and gave it a mic stand, yunho. a mic stand. you left a mic-shaped hole in this group and now you’ve been replaced with laminated paper.”
you choked on a laugh.
“hi, wooyoung,” you called sweetly. “sorry for stealing him.”
“y/n. please. for the love of jongho’s remaining patience, escort this man to the airport before hongjoong explodes. or combusts. or, wait hang on—”
there was a pause.
“…okay now he’s pacing and muttering choreography corrections to the cardboard. this is getting dark. do something. oh, yunho, why did you abandon us in the name of love?” wooyoung continued.
yunho glanced at you, then shrugged, like the answer was obvious.
“cause… nothing beats a jet2holiday?”
there was a beat of stunned silence on the other end.
“y/n,” wooyoung said flatly. “you’ve officially broken him.”
you tried to bite back a laugh, failing instantly as yunho beamed with zero shame.
“he’s beyond repair,” wooyoung continued. “he’s quoting travel memes, y/n. jet2 memes. hongjoong’s going to shave his head and yours for good measure.”
“guilty as charged. sorry not sorry for sending him all those tiktoks the past week.”
you hear wooyoung heave a big sigh over the phone. a long, suffering, i-aged-three-years-in-three-minutes kind of sigh. “i’m ending the call. y/n, i’m trusting you to ship him off to us in one piece and—“
“will do! bye, wooyoung!” you chirped quickly, not giving him the chance to spiral into another dramatic monologue.
you reached over and cheerfully tapped end call before he could finish, the screen going blissfully silent.
yunho blinked.
“you hung up on him.”
“i did,” you replied, completely unbothered. “for your sake.”
“and his blood pressure,” he added with a grin.
“exactly.”
yunho looked at you helplessly, hoodie half on, pillow marks still on his cheek as you playfully hit him with one of your pillows.
“okay, okay. i’m going. i’m going.”
“you better be on a plane before the cutout gets fan mail.”
he snorted, catching the pillow and pulling you into his arms.
“and yet, hongjoong might flatten me as soon as i land.” he muttered into your hair.
“please don’t allow him to.”you said, shaking your head slightly. “i like you three-dimensional.”
he smiled, soft and crooked and maybe, just a little lovesick.
“you like me that much, huh?”
“i like you just enough to keep you from being turned into a 2D anime character.”
he laughed, tightening his hold around your waist.
“guess i’ll have to make it back in one piece then.”
“exactly. so no detours, no last-minute snack missions, no pretending to miss your flight because ‘the stars told you to stay’.”
“no promises.” he smirked, already sounding like he was planning to do at least two of those things.
“yunho.” you deadpanned.
he blinked innocently.
“what?”
“hongjoong is going to haunt me in my sleep if you don’t get on your flight.”
you reached up to fix a strand of his hair sticking out from under his hoodie, and brushed a wrinkle from his sleeve.
“i’ll miss you.” he said softly.
you squeezed his fingers gently, trying not to show too much of how tightly your heart pulled. “i’ll miss you too. now go get on a plane before your leader combusts.”
“yes, ma’am.”
he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, reluctant fingers brushing your hand as he pulled away.
pairings: est. relationship idol jeong yunho x reader
genre: pure fluff, (part of the domestic diaries series), 2.3k words
summary: in where, you go on tour with yunho. mentions of flights and hotel rooms.
a/n: yunho is a whole walking green forest. how do i get a yunho?
it started off as a joke. at first. when the nine of you sat in a circle (not summoning a demon, i swear) and wooyoung suggested you to drop everything you had for a month and go with them for the europe leg of the tour. as a staff member.
“come on, it’ll be fun. and yunho here won’t get all lovesick like a puppy who got abandoned his owner.”
you shook your head. “wooyoung, no. i have a job—“
wooyoung cuts in. “and you have a once in a lifetime opportunity! besides, you can have a new one: emotional support girlfriend / semi-staff / part-time snack manager.”
you groan, burying your head into yunho’s shoulder while everyone laughs.
“you get to have a peek into what we do everyday.” mingi says.
“you get to hoard european snacks. eat macarons in paris. label yunho’s socks in every country.” jongho continued.
“i already do that…” you mutter, your voice muffled.
you lift your head, ready to protest, but the hopeful look in yunho’s eyes stopped you. those puppy eyes.
he hesitated. “only if you want to.” he says softly. “but i think i would sleep better with you by my side.”
your breath hitches as you feel a light flutter in your chest. the room goes quiet for a moment.
and then wooyoung claps his hands dramatically. “that’s it. she’s going. i’m packing her bags. and i’m talking to the ceo as his favourite child.”
and that’s how you ended up on flight 472 to berlin.
yunho was supposed to be in 2C— reclining seats, hot towels, an upgraded menu, business. and you were supposed to be in 36B. at the back. in the middle seat. economy. maybe in between two of the staff members.
it’s a full service airline with three meals and it’s not even uncomfortable. you’ve flown worse. this is considered luxury for you.
but you catch yunho glancing back at you worriedly before he boarded the plane first.
as soon as the seatbelt sign switched off one hour into the flight, you were already tucked comfortably under the blanket, headphones on as you were ready to binge watch the entire eight films of harry potter the on air entertainment had to offer. you never thought much of it when your aisle seatmate disappeared for over ten minutes (you just assumed the queue for the lavatory was long) until you spotted a six foot tall burrito (wrapped in a business class blanket) waddling over to your row. and plopping down to the now empty seat next to you.
you blink in disbelief, putting the sorcerer’s stone on pause. “…yunho?”
he shrinks a little into the seat, curling slightly under the blanket before tilting his head just enough to peek out from beneath his baseball cap — tugged so low it nearly swallowed his entire face. not to mention the hoodie and the mask. (the only thing you could see were his eyes, barely)
“…yeah?” he mumbles, his voice still muffled by the mask he was still wearing, eyes peeking up like a guilty puppy.
“what are you doing here?”
“sitting next to you.”
“but you had a recliner seat!”you whisper-yelled.
“yeah,” he says softly. “but i didn’t have you.”
you stare at him. dumbfounded. mouth slightly opened.
he stares back. smiling. unapologetic. half-buried in layers of hoodie and a blanket.
then, he slides a pack of business class cookies into your palm. (the ones they always give before landing. the same ones that he would always bring home for you (even though they get a little crushed in his bag), because you liked them. “here. for you.”
you look at the packet in your palm, then at him. “i thought they only gave this before landing?”
he shrugs lightly. “they do. but i asked them to pay it forward.”
“what about your seat in business class?” you asked.
he leans back, stretching his legs as much as the cramped space between the rows would let him. “i switched it with your seat mate.”
“you what—?”
“didn’t you notice he was gone for over ten minutes?”
you stare at him in disbelief, the cookie still untouched in your hand.
“yunho.”
“he was happy. said he was super thankful. he’s one of our staff anyway— they work hard. they deserve an upgrade too.”
“so… you bribed him with a business seat?”
“and i gave him my extra dessert.”
“of course you did.” you mutter, shaking your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips. how did the most ridiculous, good-looking, six-foot, golden retriever, kind-hearted man end up in love with you?
you glance sideways at him, curled up awkwardly in the tiny seat, knees pressed to the tray table, the blanket tucked up all the way to his chin. “yunho.” you murmur, voice low and full of quiet disbelief. “are you really willing to suffer with me on this 12-hour flight in economy?”
he turns to you, eyes soft beneath the brim of his cap. no hesitation.
“i’ll suffer anywhere if it’s with you.”
in that moment, your heart does a full flip. you felt like a giddy teenager in love. you huff a tiny breath, tugging your own blanket up and over him, draping over his shoulders so it covers the both of you. (so that he can’t see the blush creeping up your face)
“okay then,” you say, sliding your hand into his as you lean against his shoulder. “let’s start binge watching harry potter.”
“only if you start from the goblet of fire. you always fall asleep in the first three.”
“not this time. i won’t.”
—-
you did. you didn’t even manage to make it through the first half of the second movie before you dozed off against yunho’s shoulder, the crumpled cookie wrapper still tucked loosely in your hand.
you only woke up when yunho gently nudged you as the food trolley made its way down the aisle. you stirred slowly, still tucked beneath the blanket you threw over the both of you hours ago, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the cabin light around you. your screen had already faded to black, the movie long finished.
“you slept through almost half of the movie.” he said softly, his hood fallen, his mask long forgotten and his eyes puffy from sleep as he unfolded your tray table in front of you. “and i didn’t want you to miss the food. they have a few options: sandwiches, spaghetti or teriyaki chicken.”
“what are you getting?” you asked softly.
“i was gonna wait for you.” he murmured. “but probably the chicken.”
“okay. then i’ll get spaghetti. we can share.” you mumbled, yawning into the sleeve of your hoodie, head still resting against his shoulder.
you felt him shift slightly as he politely placed both meal orders when the food cart made its way to your row.
“one chicken. one spaghetti. thank you.”
your eyes were still half-lidded when the trays were placed on your table, steam curling up faintly from the foil covers. yunho peeled them open carefully, sliding your drink toward you before unwrapping his own utensils.
“eat slowly.” he said handing you a fork. “you’re still waking up.”
“you’re always too good to me,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.
he glanced sideways at you, a soft smile forming at the corner of his lips. “i just love you. even when you drool on my shoulder.”
you gasp. “i didn’t—”
“it’s okay,” he teases, leaning in. “i still love you.”
—-
“yuyu, we’re almost landing. you should go back to your seat.” you tapped his shoulders gently as the landing announcement came on.
he stirred, blinking slowly before glancing out the window at the city skyline below. then, he looked at you. your blanket now pooled around your waist, hair slightly tousled from sleep, eyes still soft. you catch the way how he looked more tired than usual, the weight under his eyes.
he didn’t move.
“yunho.” you say again, gentle but firmer. “you need to get down with the group, or the fans are going to get suspicious. i’ll meet you again after baggage claim.”
he exhaled through his nose, like a stubborn kid being told recess is over, but eventually sat up straighter and stretched his neck with a wince.
“i think my soul left my body halfway through hour eight.”
you chuckled, brushing a crumb off his hoodie.
“your soul better come back before the fans see you.”
he gave you a sleepy, knowing smile, then tugged his cap lower and reached for the business class blanket still draped across his lap.
just before he stood, he leaned in one last time and whispered, “text me when you get off. i’ll get your bag for you at baggage claim.”
then he slipped out of the seat and shuffled quietly down the aisle, blending back into the cabin like he was never there.
—-
you just got through immigration when your phone lights up.
yuyu 💛:
you okay?
you:
yup. just got through immigration. coming out with the others now.
yuyu 💛:
:) okay. got your bag. just head straight for the third van from the front. my hand is cold and it needs yours to warm it up.
you:
…yunho. you’re literally a giant heater. and we were literally on the plane together for twelve hours.
yuyu 💛:
yeah but you were asleep for most of it. and then you told me to go back to my seat 😔
you:
you’re so dramatic.
yuyu 💛:
cold. neglected. emotionally abandoned. only a hug will fix it. and a kiss. maybe two. three if you feel bad.
you sigh, but you’re smiling, helpless. your heart is already racing even as you walk past the glass doors.
your phone buzzes again.
yuyu 💛:
i see you. van door’s open. don’t run. your safety is my number one priority. :)
—-
bonus scene:
you should’ve known better when you spotted a size ten shoe in your hotel room.
you were supposed to room with one of the staff members, one of the stylists that you had met before, who even texted you earlier with “see you in the room!” and a sleepy emoji. but instead, you find yunho’s jacket slung across the room chair, his charger plugged into his phone at his bedside.
you freeze in the doorway. and blink. twice.
almost on cue, the bathroom door swings open and yunho out, towel drying his hair, wearing your hoodie. (well, not literally your hoodie but you stole it from him months ago so it’s technically yours and you packed it to wear on this trip)
“oh, you’re here.” he says casually, as if it was his room all along, and this wasn’t wildly suspicious.
“i would ask what are you doing here but i think i know the answer to that question. you offered a free upgrade to my roommate again, didn’t you?”
he smiled sheepishly. “well, manager hyung said it’s okay and she didn’t mind the single room so…”
“yunho.” you sighed. loudly. “this was supposed to be a professional trip. and you’re in my hoodie.”
“it was at the top of your suitcase.” he defended. “and my suitcase is still in the other van. traffic.”
you raised a brow. “so your first instinct was to dig through my stuff? not mingi’s?”
“mingi’s clothes don’t smell like you.” he replied instantly.
“that’s not a valid reason.”
“it’s the only reason.”
“i should be concerned about how fast you said that.” you muttered, flopping onto your bed and staring at the ceiling. (yes, it’s two separate single beds because yunho was not meant to be your roommate)
he shifted, propping his head on his arms to face you. “relax. i didn’t wrinkle anything. you know i’m tidier than you anyways. and i saw the cute pair of socks that had mini ducks on them.”
you turned your head enough to squint at him. “you dug around enough to find my duck socks?”
“maybe?” he answers shamelessly. “i didn’t know you like ducks that much.”
“…you found my duck pajamas too, didn’t you?”
he gave you a look — the kind that said absolutely yes without saying anything at all.
“…did you find your pair?” you asked softly.
“wait. you bought me a pair too?”
you nodded shyly. “it was on sale. and it was cute. and matching. wooyoung insisted that i bring it. saying something about how we would end up together most of the time during the tour.”
he grins, wide and blinding. and stupidly fond. “you got us matching pajamas?”
“it’s in the secret compartment in my bag. i’m going to take a shower.” you mumbled, embarrassed, grabbing your towel and the duck pajamas as you stood from the bed.
and when you stepped out of the shower, towelling dry your hair in your duck pajamas, you see yunho already in the matching set you got for him. (which made him adorably cute)
and the two single beds were no longer single. pushed together as if they had never been apart. the sheets slightly wrinkled from the effort.
and, of course, he had already claimed your side of the bed.
“wooyoung was right. we really would end up together most of the tour.” you muttered softly before climbing under the covers beside him.
he didn’t say anything at first. just shifted closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and gently pulling you closer. something he has done a thousand times. “and he was right about bringing you along too.”
nothing beats a jet2holiday. literally. (except you)
established relationship! idol! jeong yunho x reader
genre: fluff, comedy, 2.5k words
summary: in where, you never expected for yunho to show up at your door at 2a.m. especially when he's supposed to be on tour. (part of the domestic diaries series!) read another part here
a/n: this is not sponsored. and yes, i turned a whole ad into a fic :)) i had so much fun writing this. p.s. i watched too many rom-coms the past week.
you never expected yunho to turn up at your door like that. especially not after one of his shows in london just the day before and his next show was just four days away in paris. and certainly not at 2a.m. in the morning.
you tried your best to rub the sleep from your eyes as you opened the door in your duck pajamas.
“who— yunho?”
he stood there in your apartment hallway, shifting from foot to foot, backpack slung across his shoulders, his mask tucked under his chin.
“surprise…?” he said softly, smiling that big goofy smile at you. as if he didn’t catch the last flight out to see you.
your jaw dropped. you blinked. hard. twice. just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. that it wasn’t just a dream and the lack of sleep was catching up to you.
he gave a little wave with the hand not holding his phone.
“well,” he continued. “you said wish you were here. and you sent me loads of that jet2holiday meme on the internet all week. it was cheap. so, i, uh, booked a jet2flight to see you.” he scratched the back of his neck, his voice hoarse from the cold, or maybe the lack of use during the flight.
you stared.
he stared back. sheepishly smiling. “you’re wearing your duck pajamas.”
you groaned. “i swear the duck pajamas is always at the scene of the crime.”
you gently pulled him into your apartment and as soon as the door clicked shut, you immediately buried yourself into his chest. “i missed you.” you mumbled softly.
he wraps his arms tightly around you, like he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart, as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold you a little tighter. “i think i missed you more.”
you huffed into his hoodie, a soft laugh muffled against him. “so much that you booked a jet2 flight to see me?”
“they’re not wrong when they said nothing beats a jet2holiday.” he replied, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, his grin still evident on his face. “except you.”
you bury your face into his hoodie, trying (and failing) to hide the blush creeping up your face. “jeong yunho… when did you get so smooth?”
“i’ve had time to prepare my material. i haven’t seen you in too long.” he said, arms still wrapped snugly around you.
all of those phone calls couldn’t compare to this.
“yunho…”you hesitated, glancing up at him. “does your manager know?”
“you told hongjoong but not your manager? i think your manager wants to kill me.” you groan.
“he would never. you’re too important for my heart.” he kissed the top of your head. “plus, i would need someone to cover for me if i didn’t make it back in time.”
your jaw dropped. “yunho!”
“relax, i’ll be back before paris.” he said casually, like he’d just popped out to the convenience store and not literally fled the country for you. plus risked a manager-induced death sentence. “and hongjoong enabled this. hongjoong believes in love.”
you narrowed your eyes.
“…unbelievable.”
he grinned, letting you tug him gently toward your room, and trailing behind you like a lost puppy.
“what if i wasn’t home?” you asked, handing him a towel from your shelf.
he looked up.
“what?”
“i mean, seriously. what if i didn’t open the door? what if i was out? or asleep? or just… simply didn’t hear you knock?”
yunho stopped behind you. his lips twitched.
“you? out?”
you blinked.
“you begged me not to drag you out of the house when we’re together. you actively protest fresh air. the odds of you being anywhere but here at 2 a.m. are lower than the price of my jet2 flight.”
you opened your mouth to argue, and then promptly closed it again.
“…okay, fair.”
he stepped closer, leaning in to nudge his forehead against the side of your head.
“you were home. i knew you’d be home.”
“yeah, but what if—”
“i would’ve sat outside like a tragic gwishin with unfinished business until you opened the door.”
“yunho.”
“i would’ve survived. i had snacks in my bag.”
“oh my god.”
you laughed despite yourself, nudging him with your elbow as you pushed open your bathroom door.
yunho’s eyes softened as he watched you turn to grab the spare toothbrush you kept tucked behind the mirror, like you were preparing for this exact moment without ever admitting it.
“i’ll be right outside.” you muttered softly, giving him a soft smile and making your way back into your room.
the bathroom door clicked shut behind you as you padded back to your bed and crawled under the covers, heart thudding just a little faster than it had any right to.
he was here.
in your bathroom. using your toothbrush. your towel. sharing your toothpaste.
he came all the way here. for you.
the bathroom door creaked open a few minutes later, steam curling out into the room. yunho stepped out in one of the spare clothes he brought along with him, which happened to be the duck pajamas matching set you bought for him last tour.
yellow. comfy. adorable.
his hair was still damp from the shower, just falling below his eyes. he grinned at you. “this reminds me about the time when you came along last tour.”
you smiled at the memory. “when you bribed my roommate?”
“mmhm.” he hummed. “no regrets though.”
“you gave her your single room. and chocolate.”
that had been such a whirlwind trip. stolen moments between rehearsals, shared meals in dimly lit hotel rooms, falling asleep to the sound of him humming whatever song had been stuck in his head that week, him being stuck with you in economy seats. you hadn’t even meant to go. but yunho had asked you, and smiled that same boyish smile he was giving you right now.
“the hairdryer is in the bottom drawer.” you nodded towards the dresser.
he padded over and crouched to open it, tugging the handle with one hand while the other pushed his damp hair out of his face. you watched as he fished out the dryer, then paused to glance over his shoulder. “do you mind if i dry my hair in here?”
“not at all.” you patted the empty space next to you. “come here.”
he hesitated for a second, then crossed the room, hairdryer in one hand, heart basically in the other.
the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. you took the dryer from his hands without a word, and plugged it in, moving to kneel behind him and gently running your hand through his hair as the low whir of warm air filled the room.
“you’re really good at this.” he murmured softly, leaning into your touch.
you smiled, smoothing your fingers through his damp hair as you moved the hairdryer slowly. “i should be. i’ve had practice. you made me do this in like four different countries.”
he huffed a quiet laugh. “you always did it better than i could. and your touch is always better than the hotel air.”
“well, you bribed me with room service.”
“and forehead kisses.”
“true. that too.”
eventually, you clicked the dryer off and set it aside, running your hands through his now-dry hair to shake out the last bit of dampness.
“all done,” you whispered.
he turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a small smile, his hair fluffed and curling slightly at the ends, his eyes soft and half-lidded from sleep. “thank you.”
“only for my favourite international fugitive.” you teased.
“favourite? so there are others?”
“well,” you drawled, settling beside him, “the one who brought me macarons from paris last year still holds a special place in my heart.”
he groaned dramatically and dropped his head to your shoulder.
“i knew those macarons would come back to haunt me. don’t my business class cookies make up for it?” he pouted at you with the most ridiculous kicked-puppy expression.
“they were pistachio. i don’t forget pistachio.”
he nuzzled closer, pulling you down with him so you’re laying on his chest. “i promise to get you dubai chocolate the next time. from that fancy shop wooyoung keeps going off about.”
“deal.” you smiled sleepily, eyes fluttering close. “now go to sleep, yuyu. i’ll be right here when you wake up.”
—-
bonus scene:
buzz.
buzz.
buzz.
“don’t move.” you mumbled, voice still rough with sleep as you tightened your arms around yunho. “you’re warm.”
“so is hell.” yunho whispered back. “and i think that’s where hongjoong is going to send me.”
18 messages. from hongjoong. and the most recent one read:
hongjoong:
JEONG YUNHO. WHERE ARE YOU?? YOU PROMISED TO BE BACK IN 24-HOURS. IT’S BEEN FOURTY-EIGHT. MANAGER-NIM IS COMING FOR MY HEAD.
yunho winced, tilting his phone to satisfy your curious gaze.
you winced in sympathy. “…that’s a lot of caps.”
“he’s going to shave my head in my sleep.” he muttered, tapping his phone nervously.
hongjoong:
DON’T JUST LEAVE MY MESSAGES ON READ. OR I’LL GIVE YOUR SOLO SONG TO SAN.
yunho let out a genuine noise of panic. “he’s not kidding.”
“yunho. he never is. captain is angry angry. though having san covering your song is not a bad idea—“
right on cue:
choi san:
…why me?
yeosang:
yunho. please come back and spare us from hongjoong hyung’s wrath.
jongho:
y/n. if you’re reading this please save us. please ask your golden retriever of a boyfriend to come back. i’m begging you.
you laughed so hard you had to bury your face in his shoulder to muffle it.
“golden retriever of a boyfriend.” you repeated, grinning stupidly into his hoodie.
yunho collapsed onto the pillow with a groan.
“i can’t even be mad. it’s accurate.”
“very,” you said, smiling down at him. “do i text them back? or are you going to crawl under the blankets and fake your death?”
“tempting,” he muttered. “but if i don’t get on that plane, san really will be forced to learn my choreo and cry.”
“at this point, san is just the scapegoat.” you laughed, reaching for your phone and typing a reply into the group chat.
you:
he’s alive. well-fed. mildly guilty. packing now.
i’ll personally escort him to the airport if that’s what it takes. with snacks.
hang in there. 🫠
yunho groaned and flopped onto his back, flinging a hand dramatically over his face.
“do you think if i stay here long enough, they’ll just assume i’ve defected and replace me with a hologram?”
“do you think hongjoong won’t find a way to teleport here himself?”
“…right. i’ll go pack.”
“your manager is really going to kill me.” you muttered under your breath as you handed him the hoodie he left crumpled on the chair.
“they said that they’re going to send wooyoung next— speak of the devil, yunho, he’s calling.”
yunho peeked at the screen and visibly flinched. “should i answer?”
“you better. or he’s going to come for me instead.”
with a groan that sounded very much like someone walking into their own funeral, yunho tapped accept and put the phone on speaker.
wooyoung didn’t waste a second.
“YUNHO. WHY ARE WE REHEARSING WITH A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF YOU.”
yunho nearly dropped the phone.
“wait—what?!”
“seonghwa printed it and gave it a mic stand, yunho. a mic stand. you left a mic-shaped hole in this group and now you’ve been replaced with laminated paper.”
you choked on a laugh.
“hi, wooyoung,” you called sweetly. “sorry for stealing him.”
“y/n. please. for the love of jongho’s remaining patience, escort this man to the airport before hongjoong explodes. or combusts. or, wait hang on—”
there was a pause.
“…okay now he’s pacing and muttering choreography corrections to the cardboard. this is getting dark. do something. oh, yunho, why did you abandon us in the name of love?” wooyoung continued.
yunho glanced at you, then shrugged, like the answer was obvious.
“cause… nothing beats a jet2holiday?”
there was a beat of stunned silence on the other end.
“y/n,” wooyoung said flatly. “you’ve officially broken him.”
you tried to bite back a laugh, failing instantly as yunho beamed with zero shame.
“he’s beyond repair,” wooyoung continued. “he’s quoting travel memes, y/n. jet2 memes. hongjoong’s going to shave his head and yours for good measure.”
“guilty as charged. sorry not sorry for sending him all those tiktoks the past week.”
you hear wooyoung heave a big sigh over the phone. a long, suffering, i-aged-three-years-in-three-minutes kind of sigh. “i’m ending the call. y/n, i’m trusting you to ship him off to us in one piece and—“
“will do! bye, wooyoung!” you chirped quickly, not giving him the chance to spiral into another dramatic monologue.
you reached over and cheerfully tapped end call before he could finish, the screen going blissfully silent.
yunho blinked.
“you hung up on him.”
“i did,” you replied, completely unbothered. “for your sake.”
“and his blood pressure,” he added with a grin.
“exactly.”
yunho looked at you helplessly, hoodie half on, pillow marks still on his cheek as you playfully hit him with one of your pillows.
“okay, okay. i’m going. i’m going.”
“you better be on a plane before the cutout gets fan mail.”
he snorted, catching the pillow and pulling you into his arms.
“and yet, hongjoong might flatten me as soon as i land.” he muttered into your hair.
“please don’t allow him to.”you said, shaking your head slightly. “i like you three-dimensional.”
he smiled, soft and crooked and maybe, just a little lovesick.
“you like me that much, huh?”
“i like you just enough to keep you from being turned into a 2D anime character.”
he laughed, tightening his hold around your waist.
“guess i’ll have to make it back in one piece then.”
“exactly. so no detours, no last-minute snack missions, no pretending to miss your flight because ‘the stars told you to stay’.”
“no promises.” he smirked, already sounding like he was planning to do at least two of those things.
“yunho.” you deadpanned.
he blinked innocently.
“what?”
“hongjoong is going to haunt me in my sleep if you don’t get on your flight.”
you reached up to fix a strand of his hair sticking out from under his hoodie, and brushed a wrinkle from his sleeve.
“i’ll miss you.” he said softly.
you squeezed his fingers gently, trying not to show too much of how tightly your heart pulled. “i’ll miss you too. now go get on a plane before your leader combusts.”
“yes, ma’am.”
he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, reluctant fingers brushing your hand as he pulled away.
nothing beats a jet2holiday. literally. (except you)
established relationship! idol! jeong yunho x reader
genre: fluff, comedy, 2.5k words
summary: in where, you never expected for yunho to show up at your door at 2a.m. especially when he's supposed to be on tour. (part of the domestic diaries series!) read another part here
a/n: this is not sponsored. and yes, i turned a whole ad into a fic :)) i had so much fun writing this. p.s. i watched too many rom-coms the past week.
you never expected yunho to turn up at your door like that. especially not after one of his shows in london just the day before and his next show was just four days away in paris. and certainly not at 2a.m. in the morning.
you tried your best to rub the sleep from your eyes as you opened the door in your duck pajamas.
“who— yunho?”
he stood there in your apartment hallway, shifting from foot to foot, backpack slung across his shoulders, his mask tucked under his chin.
“surprise…?” he said softly, smiling that big goofy smile at you. as if he didn’t catch the last flight out to see you.
your jaw dropped. you blinked. hard. twice. just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. that it wasn’t just a dream and the lack of sleep was catching up to you.
he gave a little wave with the hand not holding his phone.
“well,” he continued. “you said wish you were here. and you sent me loads of that jet2holiday meme on the internet all week. it was cheap. so, i, uh, booked a jet2flight to see you.” he scratched the back of his neck, his voice hoarse from the cold, or maybe the lack of use during the flight.
you stared.
he stared back. sheepishly smiling. “you’re wearing your duck pajamas.”
you groaned. “i swear the duck pajamas is always at the scene of the crime.”
you gently pulled him into your apartment and as soon as the door clicked shut, you immediately buried yourself into his chest. “i missed you.” you mumbled softly.
he wraps his arms tightly around you, like he’s trying to make up for every second spent apart, as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold you a little tighter. “i think i missed you more.”
you huffed into his hoodie, a soft laugh muffled against him. “so much that you booked a jet2 flight to see me?”
“they’re not wrong when they said nothing beats a jet2holiday.” he replied, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, his grin still evident on his face. “except you.”
you bury your face into his hoodie, trying (and failing) to hide the blush creeping up your face. “jeong yunho… when did you get so smooth?”
“i’ve had time to prepare my material. i haven’t seen you in too long.” he said, arms still wrapped snugly around you.
all of those phone calls couldn’t compare to this.
“yunho…”you hesitated, glancing up at him. “does your manager know?”
“you told hongjoong but not your manager? i think your manager wants to kill me.” you groan.
“he would never. you’re too important for my heart.” he kissed the top of your head. “plus, i would need someone to cover for me if i didn’t make it back in time.”
your jaw dropped. “yunho!”
“relax, i’ll be back before paris.” he said casually, like he’d just popped out to the convenience store and not literally fled the country for you. plus risked a manager-induced death sentence. “and hongjoong enabled this. hongjoong believes in love.”
you narrowed your eyes.
“…unbelievable.”
he grinned, letting you tug him gently toward your room, and trailing behind you like a lost puppy.
“what if i wasn’t home?” you asked, handing him a towel from your shelf.
he looked up.
“what?”
“i mean, seriously. what if i didn’t open the door? what if i was out? or asleep? or just… simply didn’t hear you knock?”
yunho stopped behind you. his lips twitched.
“you? out?”
you blinked.
“you begged me not to drag you out of the house when we’re together. you actively protest fresh air. the odds of you being anywhere but here at 2 a.m. are lower than the price of my jet2 flight.”
you opened your mouth to argue, and then promptly closed it again.
“…okay, fair.”
he stepped closer, leaning in to nudge his forehead against the side of your head.
“you were home. i knew you’d be home.”
“yeah, but what if—”
“i would’ve sat outside like a tragic gwishin with unfinished business until you opened the door.”
“yunho.”
“i would’ve survived. i had snacks in my bag.”
“oh my god.”
you laughed despite yourself, nudging him with your elbow as you pushed open your bathroom door.
yunho’s eyes softened as he watched you turn to grab the spare toothbrush you kept tucked behind the mirror, like you were preparing for this exact moment without ever admitting it.
“i’ll be right outside.” you muttered softly, giving him a soft smile and making your way back into your room.
the bathroom door clicked shut behind you as you padded back to your bed and crawled under the covers, heart thudding just a little faster than it had any right to.
he was here.
in your bathroom. using your toothbrush. your towel. sharing your toothpaste.
he came all the way here. for you.
the bathroom door creaked open a few minutes later, steam curling out into the room. yunho stepped out in one of the spare clothes he brought along with him, which happened to be the duck pajamas matching set you bought for him last tour.
yellow. comfy. adorable.
his hair was still damp from the shower, just falling below his eyes. he grinned at you. “this reminds me about the time when you came along last tour.”
you smiled at the memory. “when you bribed my roommate?”
“mmhm.” he hummed. “no regrets though.”
“you gave her your single room. and chocolate.”
that had been such a whirlwind trip. stolen moments between rehearsals, shared meals in dimly lit hotel rooms, falling asleep to the sound of him humming whatever song had been stuck in his head that week, him being stuck with you in economy seats. you hadn’t even meant to go. but yunho had asked you, and smiled that same boyish smile he was giving you right now.
“the hairdryer is in the bottom drawer.” you nodded towards the dresser.
he padded over and crouched to open it, tugging the handle with one hand while the other pushed his damp hair out of his face. you watched as he fished out the dryer, then paused to glance over his shoulder. “do you mind if i dry my hair in here?”
“not at all.” you patted the empty space next to you. “come here.”
he hesitated for a second, then crossed the room, hairdryer in one hand, heart basically in the other.
the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. you took the dryer from his hands without a word, and plugged it in, moving to kneel behind him and gently running your hand through his hair as the low whir of warm air filled the room.
“you’re really good at this.” he murmured softly, leaning into your touch.
you smiled, smoothing your fingers through his damp hair as you moved the hairdryer slowly. “i should be. i’ve had practice. you made me do this in like four different countries.”
he huffed a quiet laugh. “you always did it better than i could. and your touch is always better than the hotel air.”
“well, you bribed me with room service.”
“and forehead kisses.”
“true. that too.”
eventually, you clicked the dryer off and set it aside, running your hands through his now-dry hair to shake out the last bit of dampness.
“all done,” you whispered.
he turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a small smile, his hair fluffed and curling slightly at the ends, his eyes soft and half-lidded from sleep. “thank you.”
“only for my favourite international fugitive.” you teased.
“favourite? so there are others?”
“well,” you drawled, settling beside him, “the one who brought me macarons from paris last year still holds a special place in my heart.”
he groaned dramatically and dropped his head to your shoulder.
“i knew those macarons would come back to haunt me. don’t my business class cookies make up for it?” he pouted at you with the most ridiculous kicked-puppy expression.
“they were pistachio. i don’t forget pistachio.”
he nuzzled closer, pulling you down with him so you’re laying on his chest. “i promise to get you dubai chocolate the next time. from that fancy shop wooyoung keeps going off about.”
“deal.” you smiled sleepily, eyes fluttering close. “now go to sleep, yuyu. i’ll be right here when you wake up.”
—-
bonus scene:
buzz.
buzz.
buzz.
“don’t move.” you mumbled, voice still rough with sleep as you tightened your arms around yunho. “you’re warm.”
“so is hell.” yunho whispered back. “and i think that’s where hongjoong is going to send me.”
18 messages. from hongjoong. and the most recent one read:
hongjoong:
JEONG YUNHO. WHERE ARE YOU?? YOU PROMISED TO BE BACK IN 24-HOURS. IT’S BEEN FOURTY-EIGHT. MANAGER-NIM IS COMING FOR MY HEAD.
yunho winced, tilting his phone to satisfy your curious gaze.
you winced in sympathy. “…that’s a lot of caps.”
“he’s going to shave my head in my sleep.” he muttered, tapping his phone nervously.
hongjoong:
DON’T JUST LEAVE MY MESSAGES ON READ. OR I’LL GIVE YOUR SOLO SONG TO SAN.
yunho let out a genuine noise of panic. “he’s not kidding.”
“yunho. he never is. captain is angry angry. though having san covering your song is not a bad idea—“
right on cue:
choi san:
…why me?
yeosang:
yunho. please come back and spare us from hongjoong hyung’s wrath.
jongho:
y/n. if you’re reading this please save us. please ask your golden retriever of a boyfriend to come back. i’m begging you.
you laughed so hard you had to bury your face in his shoulder to muffle it.
“golden retriever of a boyfriend.” you repeated, grinning stupidly into his hoodie.
yunho collapsed onto the pillow with a groan.
“i can’t even be mad. it’s accurate.”
“very,” you said, smiling down at him. “do i text them back? or are you going to crawl under the blankets and fake your death?”
“tempting,” he muttered. “but if i don’t get on that plane, san really will be forced to learn my choreo and cry.”
“at this point, san is just the scapegoat.” you laughed, reaching for your phone and typing a reply into the group chat.
you:
he’s alive. well-fed. mildly guilty. packing now.
i’ll personally escort him to the airport if that’s what it takes. with snacks.
hang in there. 🫠
yunho groaned and flopped onto his back, flinging a hand dramatically over his face.
“do you think if i stay here long enough, they’ll just assume i’ve defected and replace me with a hologram?”
“do you think hongjoong won’t find a way to teleport here himself?”
“…right. i’ll go pack.”
“your manager is really going to kill me.” you muttered under your breath as you handed him the hoodie he left crumpled on the chair.
“they said that they’re going to send wooyoung next— speak of the devil, yunho, he’s calling.”
yunho peeked at the screen and visibly flinched. “should i answer?”
“you better. or he’s going to come for me instead.”
with a groan that sounded very much like someone walking into their own funeral, yunho tapped accept and put the phone on speaker.
wooyoung didn’t waste a second.
“YUNHO. WHY ARE WE REHEARSING WITH A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF YOU.”
yunho nearly dropped the phone.
“wait—what?!”
“seonghwa printed it and gave it a mic stand, yunho. a mic stand. you left a mic-shaped hole in this group and now you’ve been replaced with laminated paper.”
you choked on a laugh.
“hi, wooyoung,” you called sweetly. “sorry for stealing him.”
“y/n. please. for the love of jongho’s remaining patience, escort this man to the airport before hongjoong explodes. or combusts. or, wait hang on—”
there was a pause.
“…okay now he’s pacing and muttering choreography corrections to the cardboard. this is getting dark. do something. oh, yunho, why did you abandon us in the name of love?” wooyoung continued.
yunho glanced at you, then shrugged, like the answer was obvious.
“cause… nothing beats a jet2holiday?”
there was a beat of stunned silence on the other end.
“y/n,” wooyoung said flatly. “you’ve officially broken him.”
you tried to bite back a laugh, failing instantly as yunho beamed with zero shame.
“he’s beyond repair,” wooyoung continued. “he’s quoting travel memes, y/n. jet2 memes. hongjoong’s going to shave his head and yours for good measure.”
“guilty as charged. sorry not sorry for sending him all those tiktoks the past week.”
you hear wooyoung heave a big sigh over the phone. a long, suffering, i-aged-three-years-in-three-minutes kind of sigh. “i’m ending the call. y/n, i’m trusting you to ship him off to us in one piece and—“
“will do! bye, wooyoung!” you chirped quickly, not giving him the chance to spiral into another dramatic monologue.
you reached over and cheerfully tapped end call before he could finish, the screen going blissfully silent.
yunho blinked.
“you hung up on him.”
“i did,” you replied, completely unbothered. “for your sake.”
“and his blood pressure,” he added with a grin.
“exactly.”
yunho looked at you helplessly, hoodie half on, pillow marks still on his cheek as you playfully hit him with one of your pillows.
“okay, okay. i’m going. i’m going.”
“you better be on a plane before the cutout gets fan mail.”
he snorted, catching the pillow and pulling you into his arms.
“and yet, hongjoong might flatten me as soon as i land.” he muttered into your hair.
“please don’t allow him to.”you said, shaking your head slightly. “i like you three-dimensional.”
he smiled, soft and crooked and maybe, just a little lovesick.
“you like me that much, huh?”
“i like you just enough to keep you from being turned into a 2D anime character.”
he laughed, tightening his hold around your waist.
“guess i’ll have to make it back in one piece then.”
“exactly. so no detours, no last-minute snack missions, no pretending to miss your flight because ‘the stars told you to stay’.”
“no promises.” he smirked, already sounding like he was planning to do at least two of those things.
“yunho.” you deadpanned.
he blinked innocently.
“what?”
“hongjoong is going to haunt me in my sleep if you don’t get on your flight.”
you reached up to fix a strand of his hair sticking out from under his hoodie, and brushed a wrinkle from his sleeve.
“i’ll miss you.” he said softly.
you squeezed his fingers gently, trying not to show too much of how tightly your heart pulled. “i’ll miss you too. now go get on a plane before your leader combusts.”
“yes, ma’am.”
he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, reluctant fingers brushing your hand as he pulled away.
