bee

21 — lhs1015.

[httpshoney]

──★ ˙ 🍓 ̟ welcome to bee's masterlist !!

ᯓ about me:

hi! i'm bee, i write for ot7 enhypen, mainly fluff and angst ! please expect slow updates because i'm just a struggling university student (╥﹏╥) . requests are open but please refrain from requesting 18+ themes !

much love, bee ♡

a/n: i only post in tumblr. please do not reupload my works ><

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ heeseung

midnight market runs with heeseung ⤷ fluff | in which your boyfriend short circuits for a while after you left him in line. 23:45__restricted | part 1 | part 2 ⤷ hurt/comfort | just, what's the story behind your new track, evan?

heeseung likes cats

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ jay

midnight market runs with jay ⤷ fluff | in which your boyfriend short circuits for a while after you left him in line.

bee yearning for jay

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ jake

midnight market runs with jake ⤷ fluff | in which your boyfriend short circuits for a while after you left him in line.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ sunghoon

before it could begin. ⤷ angst/no comfort | we die like flies here (no mcd!) somewhere in seoul. ⤷ pt.2 of before it could begin. | angst/no comfort | again, we die like flies here. midnight market runs with sunghoon ⤷ fluff | in which your boyfriend short circuits for a while after you left him in line.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ sunoo

... coming soon !

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ jungwon

... coming soon !

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ni-ki

can we be each other's company? ⤷ fluff | how i think each member will fall in love at first sight. ni-ki? during the last stop of their tour.

[woninlove]

𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐗 𝚰𝐒 𝐋𝚰𝐅𝐄!

ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴋ sᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ sᴍᴀᴜ!

𝗦𝗬𝗣𝗡𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗦!! - ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜɪɢʜ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ’s ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴄɪʟ ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ʀᴏʙʟᴏx. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇ ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ?

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦!! - ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ sᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ x ᴇxᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦!! - ʀᴏʙʟᴏx ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs, ᴍᴇᴍᴇs, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ᴛᴀʟᴋᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴊᴏᴋᴇs/ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ, ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛs ᴏғ ʜᴜᴍᴏʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜsᴇs sʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴs, ᴇᴛᴄ.

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧!! - @jk5t4r @seyoungiesleeps @cokewithcameron

(ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ sᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀsᴋ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ)

𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘!! - ɪ’ᴍ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ 𝟷-𝟾𝟶𝟶-ʜᴏᴛ-ɴ-ɴᴏᴛ-sᴏ-ғᴜɴ sᴍᴀᴜ ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ’ᴅ ʙᴇ ғᴜɴ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ!! ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ɪs ᴊᴜsᴛ ғᴏʀ ғᴜɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀs ᴀ sɪʟʟʏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ʜᴀʜᴀ :) ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴɴᴇʀ ᴏғғ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴛ sʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ!! ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏғ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʀᴏʙʟᴏx ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ʙʟᴏx ʙᴜʟʟɪᴇs ʙʏ @ehnkei ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ɪs ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ!! ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs ᴛᴏ @pixopix ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs! (ʀᴏʙᴜx ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴄʏ ғᴏʀ ʀᴏʙʟᴏx!!)

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗦!!

#ʀᴏᴀᴅʙʟᴏᴄᴋs𝟺ʟɪғᴇ sᴛᴜᴄᴄᴏ ʙᴏᴀʀᴅ ᴘʟs ɢɪᴠᴇ ʀᴏʙᴜx

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦!!

[heesroses]

ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴜʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴀɴ 愛 ʟ.ʜꜱ

heeseung goes undercover on twt to get to know his fans better.

(𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢). idol l.hs x reader. smau series. crack humor. fluff.

──── ୨୧ ──── #26 🌙

elle’s thoughts ❀ hi! this is my newest smau series, and i am so excited to share it with you guys! i really hope you enjoy it!

©️ heeroses 2026

gen taglist is open: @fawnwonie @collywobblvs @lawnzzn @thatfeelingwhenn @kristynaaah @rikicoolpuma @hoonguin @ynnii @wonuziex @wonatlas @wonkiipiilled @choicila @strwbysunoo @bluepains @jimineepaboya @bitemhoon

[heesroses]

i’m gonna start making the taglist for this smau! lmk if you wanna be added :)

[httpshoney]

im so back, i'll finish up my drafts later on !!

my right arm got fractured after playing volleyball and did a wrong dive and i swear i walked out of the court so embarrassed bc that's the first time it happened locally </3

[httpshoney]

I AM WEAK

[httpshoney]

𑣲⋆｡˚ ~ wc 3.8k | fluff | ni-ki x f!reader. - falling in love while on tour?! | cw: feminine terms are used . | a/n: i remembered watching one of their interviews where they were asked about falling in love while touring, ni-ki answered desire so here's pt. 1 of the company series! not proofread, english is not my first language ! ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ taglist: ... im so lonely... — tell me if you wanna be added to the taglist! ╰┈➤ now reading: company | ni-ki's version | based off on justin bieber's song: company ! alternative title: how i think enhypen will fall in love at first sight .

the send-off after their melbourne stop was a blur of white flashes. the post-performance adrenaline tingling through their fingertips as they felt their hands tremble as they held onto the endless sea of sharpies, the occasional selfies and posing, and the thank you’s they shared with their fans were scattered through the exit of the building.

ni-ki in particular kept a small smile, bouncing up and down with his free hand in the air as the crowd chants his name—the strain in his back kept at the very back of his mind as he bends down to fit in the frame whenever a fan points a phone towards him, holding a peace sign and muttering a thank you after each turn.

the air was cold but the warmth from the send-off kept him from freezing, feeling a firm hand ushering him towards the van, the youngest faced the crowd—bowing in the process to express his gratitude. with his hands clasped over his mouth, he yells out.

“thank you melbourne! let’s meet again!” and with that, he squeezed himself inside the black van. a larger smile with his teeth showing graced his face as he sat comfortably at the back. waving at the window despite the dark tint obstructing his view. 

“ahh! i’m so hungry!” jake whined, head thrown back and his glasses sat crooked on his nose. reaching for his phone, “we’re heading towards a restaurant. will your parents come?” jungwon asked, his voice hoarse from the screaming he did—eavesdropping on the manager’s conversation who sat on the passenger seat. jake was quick to turn his attention towards their leader, mouthing exaggeratedly to ask the manager the address. 

it was a comical scene, watching two people who glow under the passing streetlights shushing each other—their hands placed on top of their stomachs, a way of expressing their hunger outwardly. ni-ki watched it all from the back, chuckling at how cute it was for this part of their lives to be hidden from the spotlight. the bickering, whispered conversations, and the heated arguments that happen in a span of an hour felt too normal; in these moments, ni-ki felt normal in a way where he doesn’t have to perform for a crowd, to just be him.

the youngest tuned out most of the conversations shared inside the car as he watches the scene unfold in front of him, excusing himself by casually throwing out an ‘oh, i’m just too hungry to listen’ whenever jake brings up whatever happened on the backstage. he heard his older friend whine, complaining how he never listens when he’s the one talking, now pointing a finger towards jungwon. 

“but you listen if jungwonnie talks!” jake playfully banged his fist on the shoulder rest of his seat, groaning when he saw jungwon laugh it off.  the insides of the van were filled with laughter when jungwon poked his tongue out towards their older friend, further fueling the little stomps and body shimmies jake did. ni-ki felt his stomach growl, followed by a loud sound that made the inside of the vehicle drop into an awkward silence. 

“aigooo, our little one really is still growing!” jake cooed, turning his whole body towards ni-ki who buried himself deeper into the seat—dreading the remaining minutes inside the van as jake won’t let it down. the youngest breathed out in relief when the van took a sharp turn, moving away from the bright, commercial district of melbourne and into the quieter, more residential places of the city. the streetlights were quick to dim, casting long, rhythmic shadows across their faces.

“cut it out hyung.” he whined, and whined again when the puppy-like brother laughed it off. the teasing only ended when their driver announced that they’ve arrived. long limbs in a flurry as they rush to bolt towards the promise of food.

“is that your parent’s car, jake?” their manager asked, putting the boys who were scrambling to get their seatbelts off to a stop. without sparing a second, jake nodded. repeating the plate card he memorized out loud, earning a satisfied nod from their manager. “it’s a family restaurant.” the manager’s voice finally cuts through the bickering that started, one about who gets out first.  “an auntie from korea opened it decades ago. it’s a bit of a local secret, so you won't be bothered.”

the atmosphere shifted instantly at the mention of their home country, the never-ending tug of war on the seatbelts ceased and the dim light that cast over their faces felt a little too light. it felt like a secret track, something they’ll get to know intimately before the world has the chance to stampede it; the white flashes and tired smiles from the send-off party were miles away now, replaced by the low hum of the engine and the promise of tasting home after the long tour.

jungwon, taking note of jake’s eagerness to run towards his parent’s car, let the puppy-like boy rush outside of the van. taking a small peak at ni-ki who sat still behind them—nodding as if telling the leader to go first. soon, seven boys were standing outside the restaurant, a bright neon closed sign reflecting on their eyes. they waited eagerly when their manager stepped up, knocking. 

the late night melbourne wind was relentless, it bit the tip of their noses and swept strands of their hair away from their foreheads, it was a stark contrast to the stifling, humid heat of the stage they ran around and occupied hours ago. ni-ki pulled his collar up, watching as the manager’s silhouette was framed by the warm, amber glow of the lights inside the small restaurant. when the lock finally clicked and the door swung open, the scent of buttery garlic and ginger filled their senses, hitting them like a physical embrace.

"come in, come in–what a group of handsome boys!–it’s too cold for the body today!" an older woman called out, her voice a comforting, husky rasp that immediately grounded them. her thick australian accent was broken at the end, slipping naturally as if years in australia never erased the artifacts of korea. 

the restaurant was a beautiful, wooden time capsule—marble tiles sat atop of wood furniture, a grill at the middle and vents that hovered over the striking contrast of materials. the kitchen behind the counter was lit warmly, heat seeping out towards the empty tables where they slowly found their places. the quiet place was quick to burst into comforting laughter and loud bickering, the large group talking over one another as they started talking about their last stop.

after settling down, multiple hands raised quickly, a harmonious calling for the aunt as they pointed at things that were written on the menu. it all came as a murmur, bickering whether beef or pork would be better to grill—still, they agree on getting both. 

"oh my! it's a very busy night for us." the auntie laughed, a notepad in hand as she hastily scribbled down everything they mentioned, a small i hope my husband can read this left her lips as a whisper. the group muttered their apologies, giggling when the auntie playfully hit the table, exclaiming that they shouldn’t be. laughter erupted briefly as they nod after hearing their orders repeated, finally seeing the clear picture of just how hungry they are with the variety of food they’ve ordered. soon, the high energy from earlier depleted into a comforting silence, some were sniffling from the cold air that seeped under the restaurant’s door.

ni-ki observed everything, the comforting silence and spacing out calmed his nerves. his eyes wandered around the surroundings, watching as the older woman conversed with a man her age who paced around the kitchen, seemingly nervous at the heap of orders that rushed through his kitchen window. a strangled groan leaving his lips, and the auntie laughing playfully when her husband ushered her to make a phone call.

“will it be okay if we ask people over? my husband’s overwhelmed inside the kitchen but we’ll be sure to tell them not to distract your group!” her voice reached their table, pointing towards a man who wore a sheepish smile, his hands waving at them when they all turned their heads towards the kitchen. ni-ki watched as the manager walked towards them, leaning closely as he asked for permission from the auntie’s proposal. 

they nodded in unison, the weight of their orders clearly seen on the faces of the elderly couple. 

the manager offered a final, polite nod, and the auntie didn’t waste a second. her feet padded across the floors, every retreat ending with a slight bounce, like a penguin, ni-ki watched her with a smile, briefly reminded how his own grandmother would look just as cute as her whenever she’s pleased with an answer, as she reached for the landline perched on the end of the marble counter—a vintage, cream-colored thing that looked as old as the building itself.

the sound of her dialing was rhythmic, the mechanical clack-clack-clack of the buttons punctuating the low sizzle of the kitchen. she tucked the receiver between her shoulder and her ear, her face softening as the line connected. nostalgia bloomed inside their bodies, the scene in front of them felt as if they were already back in korea—preparing for another tour. her voice filled the expanse of the room, lulling the boys and their staffs to a stillness that matched the feeling of home.

"juyeon? are you with her?" she spoke in a hushed but hurried tone, her voice dripped with an unsettling softness that feels like it’ll break the moment she hears a second of hesitation. "ah? that’s great! your father is drowning in tickets–oh hello y/n!–please, bring her. i know, i know. tell her i’ll make it up to her with a good kimchi stew."

ni-ki tuned into the vibration of her voice, feeling the domesticity of the moment. he watched her hang up with a satisfied thud. across the table, the members were settled; the warmth of the restaurant was finally winning against the chill they’d carried in. the air was thick and heavy, smelling of toasted sesame seeds and the sharp, medicinal earthiness of simmering ginseng. one by one fell into the relief that filled their noses.

five minutes passed in a hazy blur of soft conversations. then, the door rattled. dangerously.

“juyeon! i told you to stop kicking the door!”

the auntie’s voice filled the room as the glass door was kicked open from the bottom, a gust of freezing melbourne air cutting through the warmth of the room. a tall, broad-shouldered guy stumbled in first, his arms carried two heavy crates of local beer that clinked together with a sharp, metallic ring and before they could look at each other in confusion, the intruder spoke loudly with a playful laugh.

"we're here, ma! don't have a heart attack–oi! watch it y/n. don’t want my mom’s favorite tripping." he called out, his voice booming and full of an easy, local confidence. flashing a smile towards the guests, startled at his arrival. his strides were confident, a hand reaching for the tv’s remote to turn it on as the auntie nags by the counter.

“wait mom! i’ll help, i promise—hey y/n… be a sweetheart and let me pair your phone here? you’re the only one paying for that youtube premium subscription, y’know.” the brooding figure spoke, voice louder than the mechanical hum of the refrigerators lined up by the counter. the comical scene of a loud man, a figure hovering behind him, and the said man tripping over his own feet invited the others to have their eyes linger on the taller figure, yet ni-ki’s eyes didn't stay on him. they drifted to the figure hovering just behind him, partially shielded by his frame.

a shorter person stepped into the light, and suddenly, the youngest felt warm all over. 

the wind had been unkind to her; her dark hair, styled in a blowout, was a beautiful, wind-swept disaster, tangled and wild—as if she fought the melbourne air with her bare fists. she was sniffing, her nose and the apples of her cheeks flushed a raw, deep pink from the biting cold outside. her lips were parted, the bottom slightly tucked in as if she was breathing through her mouth the whole time she traveled. as she moved, the scent of the winter air—sharp and biting—seemed to trail off her coat, clashing with the kitchen's ginger-heavy steam.

she looked small, quiet, and incredibly deer-like. she reached up, her fingers fumbling with a pair of glasses that had instantly fogged over in the heat. she pushed them up the bridge of her nose, her wide eyes blinking rapidly to clear her vision.

“set the crates down before you make a mess, juyeon.”

her thick australian accent reverberated around the small restaurant, the son setting the crates down with a heavy thwack and gestured wildly toward the tv, but she lingered for a second. she stayed by the older woman, unwinding a thick, oversized scarf that seemed to swallow her whole, her gaze darting shyly toward their corner booth as she tries to speak over the louder man, juyeon. 

for a heartbeat, her eyes met ni-ki’s over the fogged-rims of her glasses.

ni-ki felt something else. something unnamed, one that’s dangerous to let flutter around his system. the buttery smell of the garlic, the loud voice of the son, the bickering of his members—it all fell away into a dull hum. 

inside the restaurant, there was just the sound of his own heart, beating loudly as if it was unwillingly trapped inside his ribcage, and the sight of a girl who looked like she’d been pulled straight out of a hazy, romantic dream, standing in the middle of a melbourne alleyway.

“y/n! come help your old man here?” 

and as quick as how the cold dissipates inside the restaurant, she was gone. tucked away in a corner filled with aromas, the small kitchen window being the only way to see her. 

“hey y/n! what’s your password?!”

“leave her, juyeon! let her work in peace–help me out here, god’s sake–do you need anything else?”

the air in the restaurant was no longer just warm; it felt charged, humming with a frequency that ni-ki couldn't quite name. he sat back, his fingers tracing the marble of the table, his hunger momentarily forgotten as the sounds of the kitchen shifted. the rhythmic thump-thump of a knife against a chopping board echoed out—fast, precise, and practiced.

"earth to ni-ki…" sunoo whispered, nudging his arm with a playful grin. "oh wow! you look like you've seen a ghost. or was it the garlic? y’know? vampire!"

ni-ki didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the small rectangular window of the kitchen. he caught glimpses of her: the way she moved with a quiet efficiency, the steam from the pots dampening the stray hairs at her temples. she was a contrast to the chaos of their world—no cameras, no choreography, just the simple, honest work of feeding people.

the meal arrived in a flurry of activity. the table was soon buried under ceramic bowls of steaming stews, sizzling meats, and a colorful array of side dishes. juyeon, still being nagged by his mother, made a show of serving them, cracking jokes about how they looked like they hadn't eaten in a week, while the auntie hovered nearby, beaming with maternal pride as they dug in.

"here." a soft voice said, appearing just as ni-ki was struggling to swallow a piece of pork that sunoo had charcoal-grilled into oblivion.

ni-ki looked up, his eyes widening. it was her. she was holding a small, extra dish of japchae, placing it directly in front of him. up close, the flush on her cheeks had faded to a soft glow, and her glasses were clear, revealing eyes that held a gentle, curious shimmer.

the sudden proximity, combined with the dry, overcooked meat lodged in his throat, was a recipe for disaster. ni-ki’s throat hitched. a strangled, muffled 'ghrk' escaped him as his lungs demanded air that the burnt meat was currently gatekeeping. his face went from a pale porcelain to a frantic, dusty pink that rivaled the girl's earlier blush.

"oh! are you okay?" she asked, her voice dipping into a genuine, worried lilt.

ni-ki couldn't answer. he didn't want to make a scene—not in front of his members, and definitely not in front of her. with a desperate, heroic surge of his throat muscles, he forced the charred lump down, feeling it scrape all the way to his chest. his eyes watered instantly.

"water" he croaked, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through a gravel pit. he pointed a trembling finger toward the empty pitcher near sunghoon. "water. please."

he wasn't even looking at the members anymore; he was looking at her, his hand clutching his throat as he wheezed.

she didn't hesitate, spinning on her heel and grabbing a fresh bottle from the counter. she was back in a second, twisting the cap off with a practiced flick of her wrist and handing it to him. ni-ki snatched it like a man lost at sea, guzzling half the bottle in one go while the rest of the table fell into a fit of hushed, teasing snickers.

"aigoo, ni-ki, eat slowly! the food—sunoo stop burning the meat!—isn't going anywhere" jake joked, reaching over to pat his back a little too hard before confiscating the tongs from sunoo who kept a snug grip on it, arguing that he’ll learn to grill it perfectly tonight. 

ni-ki finally pulled the bottle away from his lips, gasping for air. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears burning a fiery red. he looked up at her, feeling incredibly small despite being the tallest at the table.

"thank you, you should eat… too." he managed, the words coming out breathless and shaky. so much for someone who flirted with the crowd earlier, he thought to himself.

she let out a tiny, relieved breath of a laugh—a sound that felt like a secret melody amidst the clatter of the restaurant. "i’ll eat when no one’s at risk of choking, again.  be careful." she murmured, her gaze lingering on his for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before she straightened her apron. "the beef is much softer. try that instead."

"auntie says the youngest always needs extra energy, but i guess you already know that. enjoy your food." she murmured, her korean wasn’t perfect, and it carried that same melodic australian lilt but with the power of love, ni-ki argued to himself, she’s as fluent as someone who lived in korea for years. she gave him a small, fleeting smile—one that didn't ask for anything, didn't demand a pose or a thank you for a video. it was just kindness.

before he could find his voice, she was gone again, retreating into the sanctuary of the kitchen.

the rest of the night was a blur of laughter and the clinking of metal spoons. jake’s parents arrived with desserts after stepping out for a while, adding more warmth to the already overflowing room. for a few hours, they weren't idols on a world tour; they were just boys sharing a secret meal in a quiet corner of the world.

as they finally prepared to leave, bundled back into their coats and thick scarves, the manager settled the bill. the boys stood by the door, bowing deeply to the auntie and her husband—and juyeon who waved at them as if he was the one who changed their diapers, the other recruit nowhere to be seen.

"come back soon, alright?" the auntie chirped, waving them off. "don't work too hard!"

ni-ki was the last one out. he paused at the threshold, the cold melbourne wind already waiting to greet him. he looked back at the kitchen window one last time, hoping that she was still there and god–he paused, his breath struggling to catch up with the new rhythm. she was there, leaning against the counter with a towel in hand, watching them go with a soft smile.

he didn't wave, and he didn't smile for the cameras that weren't there. he simply dipped his head in a private, silent acknowledgment. she nodded back, a small, knowing movement. when he rose, he fought back a smile, internally screaming from the small, shared, and quiet interactions between you and him.

"ni-ki! let's go!" jungwon called from the van, his breath frosting in the air.

ni-ki stepped out into the night, the door clicking shut behind him, sealing the warmth and the scent of ginger inside. as the van pulled away, moving back toward the bright lights and the schedule and the noise, ni-ki leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

the white flashes of the send-off felt like a lifetime ago. he reached into his pocket and found a small, crumpled napkin he’d tucked away—not for an autograph, but as a reminder of the night he felt like himself.

he smoothed out the napkin against his knee, the dim, rhythmic pulse of the passing streetlights illuminating the jagged edges of the paper. it wasn't just a discarded scrap from the table.

there, tucked into the fold in a neat, slightly hurried script, were a few words in english, followed by a string of numbers.

you've been working hard. don't forget to breathe sometimes, without choking on meat. – y/n 01xx-xxx-xxx

ni-ki felt a slow, genuine heat creep up his neck, one that had nothing to do with the spicy stew or the crowded van. he looked out the window, watching his own reflection in the glass. the "idol" version of himself—the one with the perfect hair and the practiced gaze—seemed to soften, replaced by a boy who was just tired, well-fed, and suddenly very curious about a girl in a quiet melbourne suburb.

he didn't save the number into his phone immediately. he didn't want the digital glow to break the spell. instead, he folded the napkin back into a small, tight square and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket, right over his heart.

the van merged onto the main highway, the quiet residential streets fading into the distance. but as ni-ki closed his eyes, the roar of the tour and the weight of the next stop felt a little lighter. he wasn't just a performer moving from one stage to the next anymore; he was a boy with a secret, a name, and a reason to look forward to coming back to melbourne.

“ni-ki was totally eyeing the girl! do you think she noticed?”

“he even choked—”

“hyung!”

the van erupted in a chorus of cackles, and despite his burning ears, ni-ki didn't look away from the window. he just reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the corner of a crumpled napkin, and smiled into the dark.

════════════════════════════

⌞ .ೀ coming soon: midnight market runs maknae line & knock three times ksn x reader . last updated: 05.02.26 ⌝

a/n: ahh... i lost this draft and had to rewrite it bc my dumb ahh thought this was my research copy in docs... reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated! feel free to drop requests in my asks ❤︎ i write for OT7 enhypen, fluff and angst!

[httpshoney]

𑣲⋆｡˚ ~ no official wc but it's long... general intro is 700 wc ! | fluff | idol!ot7 x gn!reader. - implied med student. secret relationships | cw: feminine terms are used (doll/pretty) . use of sugar daddy, playfully . | a/n: couldn't help the cuteness aggression i felt towards jake's portion... im hehehe >.< also, a little suggestive for sunghoon's part. not proofread so please excuse any grammatical errors, english is not my first language ! ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ for @heesroses @woninlove — tell me if you wanna be added to the taglist! ╰┈➤ now reading: midnight market runs| hyung line pt. 1 | hyung line pt. 2 | maknae line .

[please read pt. 1 for the general intro!] in which your boyfriend short circuits for a while after leaving him in line. as if he doesn't make bank? bffr dude.

╰┈➤ now reading: midnight market runs . jake ver ! 2410 wc

the sliding doors barely hissed open before jake’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his side with enough force to make you stumble. the fluorescent lights flickered above you, and the cctv monitor beamed, reflecting your proximity on the unnecessarily large screen. it showed two figures: one in a bucket hat and a mask, and the other with unkempt hair and a mask. you watched as jake posed, leaning toward your head and winking as he snapped a quick photo of the screen.

you headed for the carts, a wet wipe in hand to clean the handle before pushing it. jake stood under the monitor, his eyes trailing your figure, and without sparing a second, he was back by your side. his warmth shamed the chill of the november air, his hands settling on the cart’s handle while he waited for you to settle your bag inside. every step you took, he was quick to follow—bumping his side into yours, as if it were only natural to gravitate toward you.

your boyfriend, bless his heart, was the physical manifestation of the velcro boyfriend memes you scrolled through on tiktok. your personal space was his, and his personal space was yours; it always left you feeling surreal how someone could express his love so clearly.

“babe, look! there’s another monitor, let’s take a picture!” he chirped, pulling his phone out once again.

unfortunately, grocery runs with jake required you to store energy beforehand. barely past the lines of unused carts, he was already pulling you to his side for another picture. you posed, your masked face kissing his cheek, and you spiritually felt something awaken in him when he beamed. his whole body jerked upward slightly, his eyes went wide, and you could bet your savings that behind his mask was his signature toothy grin. all 32 teeth showing.

“my love, you are stupidly cute, but i really want to do your skincare routine as soon as we can. can we get going?”

just like that, you heard him giggle, nodding enthusiastically at the thought of you spending the night in their dorm (although you weren't aware that he'd already plan the whole take y/n back to the dorms). you ushered him closer, a firm hand guiding the edge of the cart’s handle to prevent him from steering into an aisle filled with things neither of you ever used. without any complaints, he settled by your side. he wasn’t just walking next to you, he was navigating the store like a permanent extension of your body.

his body grooved to the store’s playlist, letting out the cutest sounds that imitated… drum snares? god, he was the cutest.

it took every ounce of your being not to squeeze his cheeks to the point of no return. endearingly, you reached out to rest a hand on his bicep. it was a gesture that grounded him, and if one were prone to over-dramatics, it would seem like you were calming a whole storm with a single warm hand. he hummed, swaying slightly to the beat, his eyes locking onto yours as you returned his half-moon gaze. you muttered compliments that only existed in the close proximity you shared.

ding! 

your quiet moment was interrupted by continuous notifications. your phone buzzed in your hand.

mintcho (my ddeonu): y/nnnnnnn 

mintcho (my ddeonu): don’t forget the vitamins pls! :( 

mintcho (my ddeonu): niki also wants the dumplings you make!! 

mintcho (my ddeonu): can you tell jake to let you stay for the next few days be4 tour starts…

“who is it?”

“sunoo. did he text you anything about his vitamins?”

jake nodded, pulling out his phone to check the notifications he’d left unread. “let’s pick up some of your things when we drop your share off? the younger ones want you to stay in the dorms for a while.”

he didn't wait for an answer, leaning half of his weight on you while he steered toward the supplement section. the distance made it impossible to walk smoothly, but you let him.

“actually, i want you to stay, too. it’s a unanimous vote, so you’re trapped with me—and them—for the next few days. you don’t have any exams, right?”

without wasting a second, you shook your head. you adjusted your posture slightly as you felt parts of your body numbing from the familiar strain of having his weight lean on you. he hummed, pleased that plenty of time would be allocated to you in preparation for the tour.

“we should get you those vitamin c supplements i bought sunoo before. or maybe berocca? that helped you a lot when you mopped around my apartment, sick after the last tour.”

for the first time since stepping foot in the store, you were out of arm's reach from him. you were busy rummaging through the wide selection of vitamins, tossing familiar brands into the cart while jake continued weaving through the dozens of notifications on his phone.

"he's still spamming," jake laughed, leaning his chin heavily on your shoulder as you scanned the shelves. he didn't move when you reached for a bottle of vitamin d and calcium; he just stretched with you, his chest pressed against your back as he peered at the labels. "he says he wants the ones that don't smell too fishy. can you check the... the thingy? like, compatibility. i heard collagen absorbs better if you take vitamin c with it."

you hummed, making a mental note to create another intake list for their new sets of vitamins. on the other hand, jake had already piled up several containers of vitamin gummies—a specific brand he liked.

"is sunoo still taking tons of supplements? hmm... i’ll send him a list of when to take each supplement." you spoke in a softer tone. your hands were quick to block him from adding an unopened box of the vitamin gummies, arguing non-verbally that what he had was enough to get through three months.

"stop, jake. we aren't stocking a hospital."

he pouted, the fabric of his mask fluttering with his heavy sigh, but he didn't push it. following closely as you guided the cart toward another aisle—focused on choosing between the chocolate-flavored pocky or the almond chocolate pepero. jake pouted, a few minutes had passed since the last shared conversation, and for a few-months-old puppy? it feels like eternity.

he openly grumbled, not liking how you were more focused on snacks than him and with a bright idea, he clutched his chest for the following spiel he thought of while cursing out the sweets you were holding.

“babe, wait... oh no, my heart is doing something weird.” jake said, his voice dropping into a rare, serious tone.

you whirled around instantly, eyes wide. you dropped the boxes into the cart and reached out to press your hands to his skin. you were quick to ask him what he’d eaten, what he’d been doing, and if he’d rested well—already prepared to call for an ambulance if things went haywire. you reached for his wrist, your fingers finding his radial pulse with practiced, lightning speed.

“what? is it racing? are you dizzy, jake? tell me if you feel lightheaded. should i call the others for help?!”

he stayed perfectly still, looking down at you with a gaze so soft and shimmering it felt illegal in the middle of a grocery store. you kept track of his pulse, eyes focused on your watch, until you realized his heartbeat was steady and he was wearing a very familiar, mischievous grin.

"it only does that when you look at me like that." he teased, looping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. a finger poked your cheek, then your nose, then your sides; until it gradually turned to pinching.

"sim jaeyun!—oh my god, i can feel my heart?!—don't you dare fake a medical emergency with me!" you hissed, swatting his chest, though your heart was still hammering from the fright.

"okay, okay! i’m sorry! but look!" he pointed past you, eyebrows raised and voice a tad bit higher.

"at least you don’t have to decide which is better!" he chirped, suddenly straightening up. his eyes flickered toward the pepero and pocky boxes you’d been debating over, now sitting on top of the fruits. the warmth surrounding your fist vanished as he shifted away, his gaze drifting toward the international snacks section tucked behind the aisle.

you watched him physically light up. he tugged his mask down to show you his brightest smile, mouthing, 'they have tim tams!' you nodded at his enthusiasm, fixing his mask while firmly placing a hand on his sleeve to stop him from running toward his sacred snacks like a puppy.

rambling about the snacks he'd been craving, he spoke lowly, "i'm going to save everyone’s life on this tour.”

before you could ask what ‘life-saving' move involved a biscuit, he was already a blur of fabric. he didn't just walk; he bolted toward the international section, his sneakers chirping against the tile.

"tim tams! babe, they have the double coated ones!" he called out in a hushed but frantic whisper. he came back seconds later, breathless. he looked at you, chest heaving slightly, waiting for your approval for his ‘soul medicine’. with your heart softening at how pure he was, you couldn't help but nod at the several packs he was cradling.

"four packs?"

"one for me, one for you, and two for the kids so they don't steal ours. it’s about survival, babe." he reasoned, dropping them into the cart. his hands moved quickly to grab other things he was familiar with, tossing them on the heap of tim tams and sweets. once satisfied, he boxed you in between the handle and his body, steering you toward the toy aisle nearby. he was humming again, that drum-snare rhythm returning as his eyes landed on the massive shelf of boxes. he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before stopping in front of the massive displays of…

legos.

“look, babe! the lego porsche 911! oh—they have the botanical series, too! we should get a couple; maybe we can build them together, hmm?”

“get one. only one, they’re expensive.” you argued, your hand firmly grabbing his wrist to stop him from adding three more boxes. jake pouted, grumbling that it was very important. you listened, amused at his passion for the brick toys.

“but love, it’s for my hands. it's therapy—very important for my motor skills, you know."

you rolled your eyes, but only the flower bouquet set went into the cart right on top of the vegetables, nearly squishing the leafy greens with its weight. still boxed in between his arms and the cart’s handle, both of you headed for the checkout, noticing the lines getting busier as late shoppers piled in.

"stay here in line, okay? it's getting busy. i forgot my yogurts." you said, ducking underneath his arms to free yourself and patting his arm.

"got it. i'm a rock. i won't move!" he promised, and you swore you saw a non-existent tail swish from side to side.

you weren't even two aisles away when your phone buzzed violently.

Aa my little baby: babe where r u  Aa my little baby: the line is moving i think  Aa my little baby: nvm i see u!!!

confused, you balanced the yogurt on top of the porsche 911 lego set. you were briefly reminded of his little pout when he’d put it back on the shelf earlier, looking at it longingly like he’d just lost the love of his life.

you couldn’t resist, your heart already hurting from the idea of jake pouting inside his room.

you: wdym you see me?  you: jake, reply.

seeing your messages left on read, you looked at the shelf in front of you. you debated whether you should buy the RB20 F1 set for him too, but the moment you peered to your right, you saw him.

he hadn't stayed. he abandoned the cart—leaving it third or maybe second, in line—and was practically jogging toward you like a lost puppy who’d spotted his owner across a park. he crashed into you, nearly making you stumble into the shelf, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other pulled down his mask. he flashed you the biggest grin and planted a kiss on your nose.

“oh my god! you left the cart!” you hissed.

“i have your bag, though,” he replied, fixing his mask as he helped you with the yogurts. his hands were large enough to carry the pack in one hand, so his arm never had to untangle itself from your side. “you’re holding a lego set. can we buy it?!”

"i’m buying it for you, but the cart! someone’s going to take our spot!"

"hmm... i don't care." he mumbled into your hair, his grip tightening. "i was alone for sixty seconds. that’s a world record for us, babe. i missed you."

you ignored his dramatics, your mind already wandering back toward the cart he had so carelessly left in line. you ushered him toward it, reprimanding him for the abandonment—though your words fell on deaf ears. he was too far gone in his own world.

upon returning to the register, you watched as he eagerly set the items on the conveyor belt. he hummed to himself, an occasional “oh, yeah!” piping out whenever he rediscovered something in the pile—most of which had been chosen by you while he was distracted by his tim tams and legos. when the cashier finally reached the end of the haul and scanned the last item, jake held his arm out, reaching for the lego set you were still holding.

swatting his hand away, you pointed a finger at him in a silent 'don't even think about it' gesture.

“i’m paying for this one.” you declared firmly.

he didn’t even try to argue. instead, he practically vibrated in place.

the cashier’s voice cut through the shared silence. “card, savings please. thank you!” jake chirped, giggling to himself about the new sets he’d spend the night on. 

you couldn't argue with the 50/50 rule anymore. the beep from the card reader had already finalized the decision for you.

“next, please!” the cashier called out. jake was already waiting as he moved out of the line. you quickly signaled that you’d pay with a digital card, and with every passing second, you swore you could feel jake shaking with excitement, even if he was a few feet away.

you watched as he eagerly observed the cashier putting the large box in a bag. he reached out to hold it alongside the many bags filled with snacks, and you couldn't help but giggle to yourself, pleased with his reaction.

jake was quick to lead you both out of the store, rambling about the recent artemis ii mission he’d been following religiously.

ding!

you: remind me to get you another lego set when you’re back from tour.  you: i love you lots, my puppy :P

╰┈➤ now reading: midnight market runs . sunghoon ver ! 2234 wc

the automatic doors slid open with a quiet hiss, and the night air swept through the opening. the clash of the grocery store’s air conditioning and the biting november chill made you hunch your shoulders toward your ears. ironically, the speakers were blasting cold by maroon 5, prompting you to hum along to the lyrics under your breath.

sunghoon was already a step ahead of you. he strutted inside as if it were a red carpet, his long coat making that rhythmic swish you had been mentally mimicking since you left the car. even from afar, anyone could tell he was someone famous—an idol, a celebrity, or an actor—by the sheer confidence in his stride. because of that, you followed your unspoken rule: stay a few steps behind, or a few steps ahead. never side-by-side. it was always like this, the two of you barely sharing a glimpse of warmth in the public eye.

you waited for him to select his cart, watching from a distance as he seriously picked out the cleanest one, devoid of rust or the stray tissues unkindly left by a previous shopper. once he was satisfied, you reached for one of your own, hyper-focused on the way the fluorescent lights flickered—too bright against your eyes, drowning any movements that rushes in your periphery.

but before you could even cross the threshold with your separate cart, his hand was out. wordlessly, he reached over and took the strap of your shoulder bag, slinging it over his own broad shoulder. you stood still, momentarily confused by the breach of your keep-a-distance rule.

“i can carry it. you can go ahead.” you murmured, the words coming out in a rushed, hushed breath. you were still standing still, heart hammering against your ribs because he was there—right beside you, breaking the invisible barrier you both usually guarded so fiercely. you looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, silently reminding him that prying eyes could dissect you both until you were bare.

but sunghoon didn't move. he didn't retreat into the safety of the next aisle.

instead, he tightened his grip on the strap of your bag and stepped even closer. his arm brushed yours as he took hold of your cart, pulling it from your grasp and shoving it back into the stack of unused ones with a definitive metallic clack. he was leaving you with a single, shared cart—and no way to maintain your distance. for once, your lover seemed to have thawed his own strict protocols. even as the warnings from the staff gnawed at the back of his mind, he paid them no mind and returned to your side. the chill from earlier slowly left your body as you felt him press his frame against yours. he didn't care about the flicker of the cctv or the stray shoppers; he just needed you.

you studied his figure, the pink shoulder bag tucked nicely under his arms. it looked slightly out of place against his expensive, structured coat, but he didn't care; he carried it with a casual, practiced ease that said this is mine to carry because you are mine to protect.

“no.” he said, his voice low and final, grounding you right where you stood. "i’m serious." he murmured, pulling you even closer. he began to navigate the aisles, your shoes accidentally stepping on him as you attempted to keep up with his ridiculously large strides. 

“oh my god, i’m sorry–hoon! i have shorter legs!–watch out, love!” 

"stay close. i can clean my shoes tomorrow, don’t worry."

it was a silent, heavy declaration. he was choosing this—the proximity, the shared warmth, the reality of being a couple—over the comfort of anonymity. he stayed in your shadow, his hand never leaving the handle of the cart, his eyes scanning the perimeter not to hide, but to ensure nothing will interrupt the small, fragile world he was building between the two of you.

he reached for your purse, swiftly opening it to retrieve your phone. you paid no mind, letting him rummage through it.

“i turned on your do not disturb, i’m not letting anyone tell us to buy something for them.”

and although he sounded harsh, you knew he meant well. overhearing on the phone earlier as his manager dropped him off the long lists of snacks the members wanted, their voices overlapping. you made a mental note to still grab the stuff you’ve clearly heard.

grocery shopping with sunghoon usually lasted for half an hour, to an hour at a maximum. both of you were rarely sidetracked, adhering to the list you usually make before every trip–tonight however, feels a little different. too intimate, something both of you never felt in public.

still, sunghoon walked slower, having memorized by now that you’d always start with the snacks.

he nagged behind you, a box in each hand as he read the nutritional facts. you had reached for a generic brand of granola, but his longer arm was already retrieving a different bag from the top shelf. it was the expensive one, you shaked your head no, answering back that you were the one consuming it–the cheaper one’s alright. 

 "this one has no added sugars. the one you’re looking at is just candy in a bag. it’s bad for your health."

you sighed, but the weight of his nagging felt different tonight. it wasn't just a critique; it was a constant, steady stream of care. he was particular about everything: the sugar content, the sodium levels, and the sources of protein. but while he was strict about the health and wellness of the snacks that reside inside the cart, he was never strict with you. you could toss in a pack of your favorite melon milk, and though he’d let out a soft, judgmental tsk, he was the one who’d move the heavy pack of mineral water to ensure your milk cartons wouldn't get squashed.

it was a mixture of his clean essentials and your guilty pleasures, nesting together in the cart—a visual of two lives finally being allowed to touch. soon, you reached the cereal aisle.

"try this one instead." he murmured a few minutes later, the cool vibration of his voice much closer to your ear than usual. you had reached for a box of lucky charms, picking up on a voice from the call earlier–get the one with the dried marshmallow!–the nasally hyung made you assume it was jungwon’s voice who nearly exploded your eardrums from the loudness of his voice.

sunghoon tugged on the box, trying to put it back on the shelf, “that’s a lot of sugar for breakfast.” he reached for a box of generic, high-fiber cereal, his eyes already scanning the nutritional label for anything suspicious. "we're getting this. it’s better for—"

he stopped mid-sentence when he saw you.

you were looking at him with those eyes—brows scrunched together as if you were on the verge of tears, your bottom lip tucked just enough to look pathetic. you clutched a bright, sugar-laden box of cereal to your chest like it was a lifeline.

"but... it's for jungwon," you whispered, your voice small and trembling. "he said he wanted the one with the marshmallows... he's been working so hard lately, hoon."

sunghoon froze. he looked at the sugary box, then back at your doe-y expression, and you could practically hear his brain short-circuiting.the sight of you looking that fragile over a box of cereal was his ultimate kryptonite.

“stop looking at me with those eyes.” he murmured, his gaze flickering away toward a display of sugar-free corn cereal  so he wouldn't have to meet yours.

“what eyes?” you asked, tilting your head and maintaining the pout, stepping even closer into his personal space.

“that… it makes me want to buy out the whole market for you.” he trailed off, finally snapping his head back toward you. his expression was a mix of frustration and pure, unadulterated adoration. “fine. put it in. but if he gets a sugar crash, it’s on you. and stop it—my card can’t handle your snacks if you keep looking at me like that.”

you let out a soft laugh, the nearly pathetic expression vanishing instantly as you tossed the box into the cart. the tension in his shoulders finally bled out, and he completely softened. he reached out, his thumb grazing the line of your jaw for a fleeting second before he turned back to the produce, his ears already glowing a deep, tell-tale pink.

to hide how flustered he was, he reverted to his most reliable defense mechanism: being a total dork.

you were standing by the refrigerated dairy products when he meticulously began inspecting a head of lettuce as if he were watching a playback of their dance practice. he turned it over, squinting at the leaves with a critical eye.

"you know why this lettuce is the best?" he asked, his voice regaining a playful, confident edge.

"because it’s organic?" you guessed, leaning against the cart.

"no." he whispered, a tiny, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "because it’s just the tip of the iceberg."

he let out a short, sharp honk of a laugh—that classic old man laugh—and immediately began giggling to himself, his shoulders shaking under the weight of your pink bag. “get it? it’s an iceberg lettuce.” he didn't even wait for you to react before he moved on to the mushrooms.

"wait, wait," he said, holding up a carton of shiitake. "i was going to tell you a joke about these, but... there wasn't mush-room for it."

you scoffed, taking the cart with you as you moved towards the poultry section. leaving the dairy fridge without glancing at the forgotten yogurts you were craving for. you didn’t wait for him to catch up, not sparing a glance because you knew that in a few seconds—he’ll shadow you. as he always does.

“just a kilogram of the lean breast please, and half a kilogram for the ground chicken.” you spoke, feeling his familiar warmth behind you—arms reaching out to receive the carefully packed ingredients. with a swift motion, he sets it down the moment you were able to clear space for the cold tray.

“should we get beef? i promised sunoo i’ll cook braised beef for him.” at the mention of his favorite dongsaeng, he nodded excitedly. “sunoo called you pretty when you sent me a picture.” he said, waiting for the butcher to pack up the beef you’ve ordered. you felt how he shifts his weight, and for the next few minutes—sunoo was the only name coming from his mouth.

“my love?”

but again, you’re his kryptonite. 

he stops, his brows raised attentively and half of his body nearly bended forward too much at the mere mention of your call sign. he hums, ready to agree with whatever you’ll say. 

“wait in line for me? i forgot my yogurts.” sunghoon nearly protested, wanting to come with you but you were quick to usher him towards the line, and quick to leave too.

you were barely in the next aisle when your phone buzzed.

hoon: the person behind me is standing too close.  hoon: istg, im putting you on a leash if you're not back in 2 minutes.

you let out a quiet snort, your thumbs flying over the keyboard.

you: kinky ;0... bet

the reply was instantaneous.

Aa my prince: ?

you rounded the corner to find him standing second in line, looking like a statue of ice. he was staring at his phone screen with a look of pure confusion, his ears tipped with a bright, flustered red that betrayed his cold exterior. you cleared your throat as you approached, your mask obscuring the grin you’ve been hiding. when he saw you approaching, he quickly tucked the phone away, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at your face.

"you're late." he said, his voice a bit higher than usual as he aggressively began placing the spinach on the conveyor belt.

"it just turned 11:38, hoon. you sent the message at… 11:36." you teased, leaning in close to whisper. “disappointed that you can’t use that leash?"

he physically recoiled, a small, choked sound escaping his throat. "i’m paying. be quiet," he hissed, but he stepped closer to you, effectively boxing you in against the counter—his way of regaining control and making sure that, for the rest of the night, you weren't going anywhere.

the walk toward your car was silent. he walked stiffly, moving as if he’d just witnessed something traumatizing. while you settled into the driver’s seat, he made quick work of hauling the bags into the trunk. still silent. no dad jokes, no self-supportive chuckles—just the biting november air and the sound of rustling plastic.

he climbed into the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield with his jaw set, his ears still a flaming, permanent shade of crimson.

ding!

his phone buzzed, the notification lighting up the dark interior.

you: i’d like a red leash. can it be fluffy?

sunghoon’s eyes darted to the screen. he let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning his head back against his headrest and closing his eyes as if praying for strength.

“we’re heading straight to the dorms.” he croaked, his voice thick with a mix of defeat and desperation. “i can’t be alone with you tonight, y/n.”

════════════════════════════

⌞ .ೀ coming soon: maknae line & knock three times ksn x reader . last updated: 04.26.26 ⌝

a/n: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated! feel free to drop requests in my asks ❤︎ i write for OT7 enhypen, fluff and angst!

[httpshoney]

hi hi! this is shineonenha, a blog created for readers and authors on enhablr to share positivity and love about other authors and fics posted so we can get our minds off the recent bout of negativity here in the community!

anyone is able to share their love about anything enhablr-related as long as it doesn’t include dark content or anything that might include dark content, and we hope that it can bring a little brightness to everyone’s day as a way to encourage and recognize people here in the community!

you’re more than welcome to share this or do anything really! tysm for your time reading! ^^

much love, @shineonenha

AWWW this is such a cute idea 🥹🤍 you guys r such a bunch of sweethearts ahuehiehie ts just made me happy today !!

[httpshoney]

i might ...mighttt... be vv slow w the drafts, i have this investigatory paper i'm working on and it actually caught the interest of one department so i'll have to focus on it for a while!

[httpshoney]

it's a study about the systemic analysis of the intj archetype in relation to social navigation and now i have six students from the psych dept emailing me non-stop. how do i get out of this situation 🫩

i want to go back to writing my delusions

[httpshoney]

i might ...mighttt... be vv slow w the drafts, i have this investigatory paper i'm working on and it actually caught the interest of one department so i'll have to focus on it for a while!

[httpshoney]

writing 2k words js made me sweat like i ran a marathon.

[httpshoney]

𑣲⋆｡˚ ~ no official wc but it's long... general intro is 700 wc ! | fluff | idol!ot7 x gn!reader. - implied med student. secret relationships | cw: feminine terms are used (doll/pretty) . use of sugar daddy, playfully . | a/n: couldn't help the cuteness aggression i felt towards jake's portion... im hehehe >.< also, a little suggestive for sunghoon's part. not proofread so please excuse any grammatical errors, english is not my first language ! ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ for @heesroses @woninlove — tell me if you wanna be added to the taglist! ╰┈➤ now reading: midnight market runs| hyung line pt. 1 | hyung line pt. 2 | maknae line .

[please read pt. 1 for the general intro!] in which your boyfriend short circuits for a while after leaving him in line. as if he doesn't make bank? bffr dude.

╰┈➤ now reading: midnight market runs . jake ver ! 2410 wc

the sliding doors barely hissed open before jake’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his side with enough force to make you stumble. the fluorescent lights flickered above you, and the cctv monitor beamed, reflecting your proximity on the unnecessarily large screen. it showed two figures: one in a bucket hat and a mask, and the other with unkempt hair and a mask. you watched as jake posed, leaning toward your head and winking as he snapped a quick photo of the screen.

you headed for the carts, a wet wipe in hand to clean the handle before pushing it. jake stood under the monitor, his eyes trailing your figure, and without sparing a second, he was back by your side. his warmth shamed the chill of the november air, his hands settling on the cart’s handle while he waited for you to settle your bag inside. every step you took, he was quick to follow—bumping his side into yours, as if it were only natural to gravitate toward you.

your boyfriend, bless his heart, was the physical manifestation of the velcro boyfriend memes you scrolled through on tiktok. your personal space was his, and his personal space was yours; it always left you feeling surreal how someone could express his love so clearly.

“babe, look! there’s another monitor, let’s take a picture!” he chirped, pulling his phone out once again.

unfortunately, grocery runs with jake required you to store energy beforehand. barely past the lines of unused carts, he was already pulling you to his side for another picture. you posed, your masked face kissing his cheek, and you spiritually felt something awaken in him when he beamed. his whole body jerked upward slightly, his eyes went wide, and you could bet your savings that behind his mask was his signature toothy grin. all 32 teeth showing.

“my love, you are stupidly cute, but i really want to do your skincare routine as soon as we can. can we get going?”

just like that, you heard him giggle, nodding enthusiastically at the thought of you spending the night in their dorm (although you weren't aware that he'd already plan the whole take y/n back to the dorms). you ushered him closer, a firm hand guiding the edge of the cart’s handle to prevent him from steering into an aisle filled with things neither of you ever used. without any complaints, he settled by your side. he wasn’t just walking next to you, he was navigating the store like a permanent extension of your body.

his body grooved to the store’s playlist, letting out the cutest sounds that imitated… drum snares? god, he was the cutest.

it took every ounce of your being not to squeeze his cheeks to the point of no return. endearingly, you reached out to rest a hand on his bicep. it was a gesture that grounded him, and if one were prone to over-dramatics, it would seem like you were calming a whole storm with a single warm hand. he hummed, swaying slightly to the beat, his eyes locking onto yours as you returned his half-moon gaze. you muttered compliments that only existed in the close proximity you shared.

ding! 

your quiet moment was interrupted by continuous notifications. your phone buzzed in your hand.

mintcho (my ddeonu): y/nnnnnnn 

mintcho (my ddeonu): don’t forget the vitamins pls! :( 

mintcho (my ddeonu): niki also wants the dumplings you make!! 

mintcho (my ddeonu): can you tell jake to let you stay for the next few days be4 tour starts…

“who is it?”

“sunoo. did he text you anything about his vitamins?”

jake nodded, pulling out his phone to check the notifications he’d left unread. “let’s pick up some of your things when we drop your share off? the younger ones want you to stay in the dorms for a while.”

he didn't wait for an answer, leaning half of his weight on you while he steered toward the supplement section. the distance made it impossible to walk smoothly, but you let him.

“actually, i want you to stay, too. it’s a unanimous vote, so you’re trapped with me—and them—for the next few days. you don’t have any exams, right?”

without wasting a second, you shook your head. you adjusted your posture slightly as you felt parts of your body numbing from the familiar strain of having his weight lean on you. he hummed, pleased that plenty of time would be allocated to you in preparation for the tour.

“we should get you those vitamin c supplements i bought sunoo before. or maybe berocca? that helped you a lot when you mopped around my apartment, sick after the last tour.”

for the first time since stepping foot in the store, you were out of arm's reach from him. you were busy rummaging through the wide selection of vitamins, tossing familiar brands into the cart while jake continued weaving through the dozens of notifications on his phone.

"he's still spamming," jake laughed, leaning his chin heavily on your shoulder as you scanned the shelves. he didn't move when you reached for a bottle of vitamin d and calcium; he just stretched with you, his chest pressed against your back as he peered at the labels. "he says he wants the ones that don't smell too fishy. can you check the... the thingy? like, compatibility. i heard collagen absorbs better if you take vitamin c with it."

you hummed, making a mental note to create another intake list for their new sets of vitamins. on the other hand, jake had already piled up several containers of vitamin gummies—a specific brand he liked.

"is sunoo still taking tons of supplements? hmm... i’ll send him a list of when to take each supplement." you spoke in a softer tone. your hands were quick to block him from adding an unopened box of the vitamin gummies, arguing non-verbally that what he had was enough to get through three months.

"stop, jake. we aren't stocking a hospital."

he pouted, the fabric of his mask fluttering with his heavy sigh, but he didn't push it. following closely as you guided the cart toward another aisle—focused on choosing between the chocolate-flavored pocky or the almond chocolate pepero. jake pouted, a few minutes had passed since the last shared conversation, and for a few-months-old puppy? it feels like eternity.

he openly grumbled, not liking how you were more focused on snacks than him and with a bright idea, he clutched his chest for the following spiel he thought of while cursing out the sweets you were holding.

“babe, wait... oh no, my heart is doing something weird.” jake said, his voice dropping into a rare, serious tone.

you whirled around instantly, eyes wide. you dropped the boxes into the cart and reached out to press your hands to his skin. you were quick to ask him what he’d eaten, what he’d been doing, and if he’d rested well—already prepared to call for an ambulance if things went haywire. you reached for his wrist, your fingers finding his radial pulse with practiced, lightning speed.

“what? is it racing? are you dizzy, jake? tell me if you feel lightheaded. should i call the others for help?!”

he stayed perfectly still, looking down at you with a gaze so soft and shimmering it felt illegal in the middle of a grocery store. you kept track of his pulse, eyes focused on your watch, until you realized his heartbeat was steady and he was wearing a very familiar, mischievous grin.

"it only does that when you look at me like that." he teased, looping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. a finger poked your cheek, then your nose, then your sides; until it gradually turned to pinching.

"sim jaeyun!—oh my god, i can feel my heart?!—don't you dare fake a medical emergency with me!" you hissed, swatting his chest, though your heart was still hammering from the fright.

"okay, okay! i’m sorry! but look!" he pointed past you, eyebrows raised and voice a tad bit higher.

"at least you don’t have to decide which is better!" he chirped, suddenly straightening up. his eyes flickered toward the pepero and pocky boxes you’d been debating over, now sitting on top of the fruits. the warmth surrounding your fist vanished as he shifted away, his gaze drifting toward the international snacks section tucked behind the aisle.

you watched him physically light up. he tugged his mask down to show you his brightest smile, mouthing, 'they have tim tams!' you nodded at his enthusiasm, fixing his mask while firmly placing a hand on his sleeve to stop him from running toward his sacred snacks like a puppy.

rambling about the snacks he'd been craving, he spoke lowly, "i'm going to save everyone’s life on this tour.”

before you could ask what ‘life-saving' move involved a biscuit, he was already a blur of fabric. he didn't just walk; he bolted toward the international section, his sneakers chirping against the tile.

"tim tams! babe, they have the double coated ones!" he called out in a hushed but frantic whisper. he came back seconds later, breathless. he looked at you, chest heaving slightly, waiting for your approval for his ‘soul medicine’. with your heart softening at how pure he was, you couldn't help but nod at the several packs he was cradling.

"four packs?"

"one for me, one for you, and two for the kids so they don't steal ours. it’s about survival, babe." he reasoned, dropping them into the cart. his hands moved quickly to grab other things he was familiar with, tossing them on the heap of tim tams and sweets. once satisfied, he boxed you in between the handle and his body, steering you toward the toy aisle nearby. he was humming again, that drum-snare rhythm returning as his eyes landed on the massive shelf of boxes. he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before stopping in front of the massive displays of…

legos.

“look, babe! the lego porsche 911! oh—they have the botanical series, too! we should get a couple; maybe we can build them together, hmm?”

“get one. only one, they’re expensive.” you argued, your hand firmly grabbing his wrist to stop him from adding three more boxes. jake pouted, grumbling that it was very important. you listened, amused at his passion for the brick toys.

“but love, it’s for my hands. it's therapy—very important for my motor skills, you know."

you rolled your eyes, but only the flower bouquet set went into the cart right on top of the vegetables, nearly squishing the leafy greens with its weight. still boxed in between his arms and the cart’s handle, both of you headed for the checkout, noticing the lines getting busier as late shoppers piled in.

"stay here in line, okay? it's getting busy. i forgot my yogurts." you said, ducking underneath his arms to free yourself and patting his arm.

"got it. i'm a rock. i won't move!" he promised, and you swore you saw a non-existent tail swish from side to side.

you weren't even two aisles away when your phone buzzed violently.

Aa my little baby: babe where r u  Aa my little baby: the line is moving i think  Aa my little baby: nvm i see u!!!

confused, you balanced the yogurt on top of the porsche 911 lego set. you were briefly reminded of his little pout when he’d put it back on the shelf earlier, looking at it longingly like he’d just lost the love of his life.

you couldn’t resist, your heart already hurting from the idea of jake pouting inside his room.

you: wdym you see me?  you: jake, reply.

seeing your messages left on read, you looked at the shelf in front of you. you debated whether you should buy the RB20 F1 set for him too, but the moment you peered to your right, you saw him.

he hadn't stayed. he abandoned the cart—leaving it third or maybe second, in line—and was practically jogging toward you like a lost puppy who’d spotted his owner across a park. he crashed into you, nearly making you stumble into the shelf, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other pulled down his mask. he flashed you the biggest grin and planted a kiss on your nose.

“oh my god! you left the cart!” you hissed.

“i have your bag, though,” he replied, fixing his mask as he helped you with the yogurts. his hands were large enough to carry the pack in one hand, so his arm never had to untangle itself from your side. “you’re holding a lego set. can we buy it?!”

"i’m buying it for you, but the cart! someone’s going to take our spot!"

"hmm... i don't care." he mumbled into your hair, his grip tightening. "i was alone for sixty seconds. that’s a world record for us, babe. i missed you."

you ignored his dramatics, your mind already wandering back toward the cart he had so carelessly left in line. you ushered him toward it, reprimanding him for the abandonment—though your words fell on deaf ears. he was too far gone in his own world.

upon returning to the register, you watched as he eagerly set the items on the conveyor belt. he hummed to himself, an occasional “oh, yeah!” piping out whenever he rediscovered something in the pile—most of which had been chosen by you while he was distracted by his tim tams and legos. when the cashier finally reached the end of the haul and scanned the last item, jake held his arm out, reaching for the lego set you were still holding.

swatting his hand away, you pointed a finger at him in a silent 'don't even think about it' gesture.

“i’m paying for this one.” you declared firmly.

he didn’t even try to argue. instead, he practically vibrated in place.

the cashier’s voice cut through the shared silence. “card, savings please. thank you!” jake chirped, giggling to himself about the new sets he’d spend the night on. 

you couldn't argue with the 50/50 rule anymore. the beep from the card reader had already finalized the decision for you.

“next, please!” the cashier called out. jake was already waiting as he moved out of the line. you quickly signaled that you’d pay with a digital card, and with every passing second, you swore you could feel jake shaking with excitement, even if he was a few feet away.

you watched as he eagerly observed the cashier putting the large box in a bag. he reached out to hold it alongside the many bags filled with snacks, and you couldn't help but giggle to yourself, pleased with his reaction.

jake was quick to lead you both out of the store, rambling about the recent artemis ii mission he’d been following religiously.

ding!

you: remind me to get you another lego set when you’re back from tour.  you: i love you lots, my puppy :P

╰┈➤ now reading: midnight market runs . sunghoon ver ! 2234 wc

the automatic doors slid open with a quiet hiss, and the night air swept through the opening. the clash of the grocery store’s air conditioning and the biting november chill made you hunch your shoulders toward your ears. ironically, the speakers were blasting cold by maroon 5, prompting you to hum along to the lyrics under your breath.

sunghoon was already a step ahead of you. he strutted inside as if it were a red carpet, his long coat making that rhythmic swish you had been mentally mimicking since you left the car. even from afar, anyone could tell he was someone famous—an idol, a celebrity, or an actor—by the sheer confidence in his stride. because of that, you followed your unspoken rule: stay a few steps behind, or a few steps ahead. never side-by-side. it was always like this, the two of you barely sharing a glimpse of warmth in the public eye.

you waited for him to select his cart, watching from a distance as he seriously picked out the cleanest one, devoid of rust or the stray tissues unkindly left by a previous shopper. once he was satisfied, you reached for one of your own, hyper-focused on the way the fluorescent lights flickered—too bright against your eyes, drowning any movements that rushes in your periphery.

but before you could even cross the threshold with your separate cart, his hand was out. wordlessly, he reached over and took the strap of your shoulder bag, slinging it over his own broad shoulder. you stood still, momentarily confused by the breach of your keep-a-distance rule.

“i can carry it. you can go ahead.” you murmured, the words coming out in a rushed, hushed breath. you were still standing still, heart hammering against your ribs because he was there—right beside you, breaking the invisible barrier you both usually guarded so fiercely. you looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, silently reminding him that prying eyes could dissect you both until you were bare.

but sunghoon didn't move. he didn't retreat into the safety of the next aisle.

instead, he tightened his grip on the strap of your bag and stepped even closer. his arm brushed yours as he took hold of your cart, pulling it from your grasp and shoving it back into the stack of unused ones with a definitive metallic clack. he was leaving you with a single, shared cart—and no way to maintain your distance. for once, your lover seemed to have thawed his own strict protocols. even as the warnings from the staff gnawed at the back of his mind, he paid them no mind and returned to your side. the chill from earlier slowly left your body as you felt him press his frame against yours. he didn't care about the flicker of the cctv or the stray shoppers; he just needed you.

you studied his figure, the pink shoulder bag tucked nicely under his arms. it looked slightly out of place against his expensive, structured coat, but he didn't care; he carried it with a casual, practiced ease that said this is mine to carry because you are mine to protect.

“no.” he said, his voice low and final, grounding you right where you stood. "i’m serious." he murmured, pulling you even closer. he began to navigate the aisles, your shoes accidentally stepping on him as you attempted to keep up with his ridiculously large strides. 

“oh my god, i’m sorry–hoon! i have shorter legs!–watch out, love!” 

"stay close. i can clean my shoes tomorrow, don’t worry."

it was a silent, heavy declaration. he was choosing this—the proximity, the shared warmth, the reality of being a couple—over the comfort of anonymity. he stayed in your shadow, his hand never leaving the handle of the cart, his eyes scanning the perimeter not to hide, but to ensure nothing will interrupt the small, fragile world he was building between the two of you.

he reached for your purse, swiftly opening it to retrieve your phone. you paid no mind, letting him rummage through it.

“i turned on your do not disturb, i’m not letting anyone tell us to buy something for them.”

and although he sounded harsh, you knew he meant well. overhearing on the phone earlier as his manager dropped him off the long lists of snacks the members wanted, their voices overlapping. you made a mental note to still grab the stuff you’ve clearly heard.

grocery shopping with sunghoon usually lasted for half an hour, to an hour at a maximum. both of you were rarely sidetracked, adhering to the list you usually make before every trip–tonight however, feels a little different. too intimate, something both of you never felt in public.

still, sunghoon walked slower, having memorized by now that you’d always start with the snacks.

he nagged behind you, a box in each hand as he read the nutritional facts. you had reached for a generic brand of granola, but his longer arm was already retrieving a different bag from the top shelf. it was the expensive one, you shaked your head no, answering back that you were the one consuming it–the cheaper one’s alright. 

 "this one has no added sugars. the one you’re looking at is just candy in a bag. it’s bad for your health."

you sighed, but the weight of his nagging felt different tonight. it wasn't just a critique; it was a constant, steady stream of care. he was particular about everything: the sugar content, the sodium levels, and the sources of protein. but while he was strict about the health and wellness of the snacks that reside inside the cart, he was never strict with you. you could toss in a pack of your favorite melon milk, and though he’d let out a soft, judgmental tsk, he was the one who’d move the heavy pack of mineral water to ensure your milk cartons wouldn't get squashed.

it was a mixture of his clean essentials and your guilty pleasures, nesting together in the cart—a visual of two lives finally being allowed to touch. soon, you reached the cereal aisle.

"try this one instead." he murmured a few minutes later, the cool vibration of his voice much closer to your ear than usual. you had reached for a box of lucky charms, picking up on a voice from the call earlier–get the one with the dried marshmallow!–the nasally hyung made you assume it was jungwon’s voice who nearly exploded your eardrums from the loudness of his voice.

sunghoon tugged on the box, trying to put it back on the shelf, “that’s a lot of sugar for breakfast.” he reached for a box of generic, high-fiber cereal, his eyes already scanning the nutritional label for anything suspicious. "we're getting this. it’s better for—"

he stopped mid-sentence when he saw you.

you were looking at him with those eyes—brows scrunched together as if you were on the verge of tears, your bottom lip tucked just enough to look pathetic. you clutched a bright, sugar-laden box of cereal to your chest like it was a lifeline.

"but... it's for jungwon," you whispered, your voice small and trembling. "he said he wanted the one with the marshmallows... he's been working so hard lately, hoon."

sunghoon froze. he looked at the sugary box, then back at your doe-y expression, and you could practically hear his brain short-circuiting.the sight of you looking that fragile over a box of cereal was his ultimate kryptonite.

“stop looking at me with those eyes.” he murmured, his gaze flickering away toward a display of sugar-free corn cereal  so he wouldn't have to meet yours.

“what eyes?” you asked, tilting your head and maintaining the pout, stepping even closer into his personal space.

“that… it makes me want to buy out the whole market for you.” he trailed off, finally snapping his head back toward you. his expression was a mix of frustration and pure, unadulterated adoration. “fine. put it in. but if he gets a sugar crash, it’s on you. and stop it—my card can’t handle your snacks if you keep looking at me like that.”

you let out a soft laugh, the nearly pathetic expression vanishing instantly as you tossed the box into the cart. the tension in his shoulders finally bled out, and he completely softened. he reached out, his thumb grazing the line of your jaw for a fleeting second before he turned back to the produce, his ears already glowing a deep, tell-tale pink.

to hide how flustered he was, he reverted to his most reliable defense mechanism: being a total dork.

you were standing by the refrigerated dairy products when he meticulously began inspecting a head of lettuce as if he were watching a playback of their dance practice. he turned it over, squinting at the leaves with a critical eye.

"you know why this lettuce is the best?" he asked, his voice regaining a playful, confident edge.

"because it’s organic?" you guessed, leaning against the cart.

"no." he whispered, a tiny, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "because it’s just the tip of the iceberg."

he let out a short, sharp honk of a laugh—that classic old man laugh—and immediately began giggling to himself, his shoulders shaking under the weight of your pink bag. “get it? it’s an iceberg lettuce.” he didn't even wait for you to react before he moved on to the mushrooms.

"wait, wait," he said, holding up a carton of shiitake. "i was going to tell you a joke about these, but... there wasn't mush-room for it."

you scoffed, taking the cart with you as you moved towards the poultry section. leaving the dairy fridge without glancing at the forgotten yogurts you were craving for. you didn’t wait for him to catch up, not sparing a glance because you knew that in a few seconds—he’ll shadow you. as he always does.

“just a kilogram of the lean breast please, and half a kilogram for the ground chicken.” you spoke, feeling his familiar warmth behind you—arms reaching out to receive the carefully packed ingredients. with a swift motion, he sets it down the moment you were able to clear space for the cold tray.

“should we get beef? i promised sunoo i’ll cook braised beef for him.” at the mention of his favorite dongsaeng, he nodded excitedly. “sunoo called you pretty when you sent me a picture.” he said, waiting for the butcher to pack up the beef you’ve ordered. you felt how he shifts his weight, and for the next few minutes—sunoo was the only name coming from his mouth.

“my love?”

but again, you’re his kryptonite. 

he stops, his brows raised attentively and half of his body nearly bended forward too much at the mere mention of your call sign. he hums, ready to agree with whatever you’ll say. 

“wait in line for me? i forgot my yogurts.” sunghoon nearly protested, wanting to come with you but you were quick to usher him towards the line, and quick to leave too.

you were barely in the next aisle when your phone buzzed.

hoon: the person behind me is standing too close.  hoon: istg, im putting you on a leash if you're not back in 2 minutes.

you let out a quiet snort, your thumbs flying over the keyboard.

you: kinky ;0... bet

the reply was instantaneous.

Aa my prince: ?

you rounded the corner to find him standing second in line, looking like a statue of ice. he was staring at his phone screen with a look of pure confusion, his ears tipped with a bright, flustered red that betrayed his cold exterior. you cleared your throat as you approached, your mask obscuring the grin you’ve been hiding. when he saw you approaching, he quickly tucked the phone away, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at your face.

"you're late." he said, his voice a bit higher than usual as he aggressively began placing the spinach on the conveyor belt.

"it just turned 11:38, hoon. you sent the message at… 11:36." you teased, leaning in close to whisper. “disappointed that you can’t use that leash?"

he physically recoiled, a small, choked sound escaping his throat. "i’m paying. be quiet," he hissed, but he stepped closer to you, effectively boxing you in against the counter—his way of regaining control and making sure that, for the rest of the night, you weren't going anywhere.

the walk toward your car was silent. he walked stiffly, moving as if he’d just witnessed something traumatizing. while you settled into the driver’s seat, he made quick work of hauling the bags into the trunk. still silent. no dad jokes, no self-supportive chuckles—just the biting november air and the sound of rustling plastic.

he climbed into the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield with his jaw set, his ears still a flaming, permanent shade of crimson.

ding!

his phone buzzed, the notification lighting up the dark interior.

you: i’d like a red leash. can it be fluffy?

sunghoon’s eyes darted to the screen. he let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning his head back against his headrest and closing his eyes as if praying for strength.

“we’re heading straight to the dorms.” he croaked, his voice thick with a mix of defeat and desperation. “i can’t be alone with you tonight, y/n.”

════════════════════════════

⌞ .ೀ coming soon: maknae line & knock three times ksn x reader . last updated: 04.26.26 ⌝

a/n: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated! feel free to drop requests in my asks ❤︎ i write for OT7 enhypen, fluff and angst!

[httpshoney]

how do people write 10k words easily... i want that power too...

[httpshoney]

doing groceries rn w my roommate and i'm about to run home to rewrite sunghoon's part in midnight market runs bc this bitch js gave me another idea 🫡

[httpshoney]

js saw an edit of enha's recent content and it actually broke me 🤣 good morning i guess

[httpshoney]

writing him both as evan and heeseung in one fic is doing smth crazy to my mind...

[httpshoney]

23:45__restricted . part 1

a/n: i'll be splitting this into three parts so the build up's cleaner >< also... i had to step away from that app because the hate just felt... too much. i'm still confused, hurting, and looking for answers but even if we don't know everything—no one deserves to be stripped down to something less than human. i support enhypen as ot7, ot6, and even if they all choose to go solo. wc 6k | genre: hurt/comfort , slice of life . lhs x reader | cw: march 10. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ @ttamna @dulcetnostalgia @man-eater21 @fabulousarepo4 @woninlove— tag list's open!

the store felt awfully quiet for a tuesday night, the storefront unusually cold, stripped of the warmth that usually seeped into the sidewalk. it contrasted the routine you were used to, but you heaved a thankful sigh; you weren't sure you could handle a late-night rush alone. “god… even archie asked for an early leave. what’s up with today?” you muttered, fingers reaching for the loose ends of the apron’s ribbon, tugging it into a tighter knot—tight enough to feel as if someone’s arms wrapped around you.

“this will do.” you whispered again, busying your hands with anything they  hovered over. “it sure does feel empty without the others."

you found yourself pacing the floor, the glass walls reflecting your uneasiness back at you, wearing the blurry streaks and handprints of customers who had already moved on with their night. then, your phone vibrated. your employees were flooding the group chat with crying emojis and elongated no’s. you could physically feel their pain, even without knowing the cause.

the slow night, the cold glass, and the sudden absence of noise hit your gut like a physical weight. something heartbreaking had happened, and you felt it before you even hear about it. the silence felt unnerving now, as if the world wanted to lean its whole weight on the small space you called home..

your phone buzzed again—notifications from every platform chiming in at once. with a practiced swipe, you toggled on 'do not disturb' and started your favorite late-night playlist. you sighed as the familiar melody filled the space, humming softly while you dimmed the lights, opting for the low amber glow of the lamps over the harsh fluorescents that always flickered at midnight. making you shiver at the thoughts that dance in your mind.

you clicked into the group chat, typing away to escape the eerie quiet for a moment.

you: the gods took mercy on me haha, there’s no rush tonight!  you: are you guys okay? archie’s the only one who didn’t call in sick for the shift.  you: oh.

your mood dampened instantly. fingers scrolled through the mountain of messages, finally catching up to the news that had shattered your employees' hearts. suddenly, the air felt like lead. the speakers felt too loud, and your fingertips went numb as a familiar face appeared on your screen, accompanied by words you never expected to see paired with his portrait.

enhypen’s heeseung announces departure from the group… read more

you weren’t the loudest fan—life outside the screen kept you busy with the cafe, university, and the slow process of reconciling with your brother—so you didn't know how to react. was it right to beg? was it okay to cry on a public timeline when you hadn't been vocal about them in years?

but god, it hurt. you had followed them since the survival show; you still remembered how gruesome it was for a group of teenagers to endure that pressure. even years later, the snippets of those interviews felt like open wounds.

unbothered by the late hour, you set your phone face-down and turned to the ledgers. you busied yourself with anything you could find—wiping down clean counters, rearranging spoons—anything to stay moving even when there was nothing left to do.

the steady hum of the air conditioning, the low thrum of the fridge, and the soft pulse of the speakers were your only company. but instead of providing their usual comfort, the sounds felt heavy, as if the very bones of the building were grieving with you. you usually closed late, your shop being the reliable sanctuary for the students in the neighborhood, but tonight, the empty chairs and silent corners made the space feel twice as large—and twice as lonely.

the bell above the door didn’t chime so much as it rattled, a sharp, metallic sound that cut through the low hum of the refrigerators. it was 11:45 pm on a tuesday. 

but the noise didn’t prompt you to look away from the ledger, you couldn’t. not when you heard the figure sniffle back a runny nose. usually, at this hour, the city only birthed three kinds of people: those who were looking for trouble, those who were looking for things to shove their faces aside from their books, and those who were looking to disappear.

you peered over the figure, hearing how he clears his throat before pointing towards a slice of cheesecake. you nodded, the dimly lit cafe sported neatly lined rgb lights under the front of the counter, humming along to the song that played from the speaker. 

“you can pay when you’re heading out.” you whispered, reading how his body felt like it would betray itself the moment it moves another finger. you hummed, the city birthed three kinds of people and the figure that shuffled toward the back corner was the latter.

he was swallowed by an oversized black hoodie, his face obscured by a mask that looked like a muzzle, a hat that covered half of his eyes that moved with the frantic, wet twitch of a deer caught in the high beams of a speeding truck. he didn’t linger around the counter, didn’t argue to pay upfront; as if practiced, he headed towards the shadows.

he sat in the restricted staff corner. the one place the streetlights couldn't reach.

you prepared his order, a lemon blueberry cheesecake, and maybe it was because you were so used to  people coming in during late nights of a random weekday–crying to you how their partner broke up with them, that you assumed the figure went through the same. adding in a savory flatbread on his tray, hoping that he’d read it as a ‘get-well-soon-i-guess’ treat.

you watched him from your periphery, observing how he wasn’t scrolling through his phone. instead, he was staring at it as if it was a grenade, his knuckles probably devoid of its color and warmth as he gripped the edges of the device. amidst the warmth that the low lights evoked, and even if he was sitting a few feet away, you could feel the ricochet of his panic, loud and occupying your space. he looked like he was vibrating at a frequency meant to break glass.

without a word, you slid the tray on his table. didn’t ask if he’d like anything else. didn’t speak a single word, and just like a passing thought–you retreated to your corner. dreading how the next few seconds will break the silence you share with the stranger. 

i’m so sorry. you internally cried out, hands hesitating for a while whether to brew yourself a cup of coffee, or opt for a bottle of water instead. yet, your eyes saw how the figure stilled in your periphery. his shoulders slumped, and his left arm barely supported the weight of his forehead pressed against it. sighing to yourself, you built up the courage.

you moved to the espresso machine. you opted for the jar of extra coffee grounds from earlier’s afternoon rush, deeming that the coffee grinder would be too loud for situations like this. soon, the whirring of the espresso machine accompanied the song playing in the background. you hissed, tongue clicking both from the loud mechanical vibrations and from the lack of crema on your espresso shot—a bad extraction, bitter and sharp, but you didn't care about the beans tonight. you pour the shot over a cup of ice and water, your vacant hand reaching for another cup, quick to fill it with ice and settle it down. shortly, you find yourself making your signature peach iced tea; reaching for the slow-brewed tea base you kept secret from everyone, only using it for your personal drink. one where you happily indulge in it, alone, in silence.

you moved towards the table. your shoes squeaking as you stand across from the sitting figure, his head hung low, as if the world decided to blame everything on him tonight. you sighed, hands aching to let go of the cold beverages that sat nicely in it. he flinched when you stepped closer, his shoulders nearly hunching up to his ears.

you didn’t speak. sitting on the chair beside him, forcing him to lean towards the wall. you slid the peach iced tea towards his side of the table, eyes flickering towards the untouched food. 

unsure where the bravery came from, you peeked at the screen that illuminated the table. catching glimpses of retweets from an article you saw minutes before, some were negative, some were positive. from the closer proximity, you felt the edge of your seat that stuck close to his shake from his jittery knees. you started speaking. 

"i don't understand how one person has that much hate in their body." you spoke up, not itching to see beneath the mask and cap. 

"you must have loved heeseung too. personally, i ache for him. what a weird parasocial relationship i have with that guy" you continued with a light chuckle at the confession of being half delusional, not caring how he stiffened up from the name you mentioned.

"i'm sorry but who are you? i was here first." the voice spoke. soft, but there was this heaviness. fear and anger blended through it too. you chuckled but still settled beside him.

"well you're sitting in a staff’s area, restricted. i own this seat but i don't mind sharing it with you, for now." voice soft despite the hostility thrown at you. 

"i've watched them since the survival show." you continued speaking, sipping on your americano—still grieving over the iced tea that you willingly gave to the stranger—a hiss following shortly from the poor quality of your shot. you grumbled.

"i hope people will get an answer. an explanation.” you spoke in a hushed tone, feeling how every fiber of his being kept tensing at each word you let out. you played with your straw, eyes hovering over anything—everything but his figure.

“the world is cruel, but those who preach for it to be kinder did the most damage towards one individual. if he wants to go solo, then so be it." mid-sentence, you unintentionally let out a scoff, hyperaware how fans were quick to throw hate. to switch up.

"i genuinely despise how others think they know better than what goes on behind. i wish i have this power to shut them up, y'know." and there was a strain in your voice when you spoke this time. a heavy, unsolicited, tone of anger that dripped with every word.

"still. i hope he's well. i hope he knows he's loved, and i'm sure he's sorry—if anything, i think he feels the most guilt for things turning out this way. i want to believe he means well." you continued, your voice gradually coming to a whisper. your eyes watch how the masked guy turns away from you to sip on the iced tea, how his hands clutch on the cup, how his shoulders relaxed and tensed once again. 

"i just hope people won't be stripped away of their voices, choices, and rights. losing family you grew up with in the process of chasing—wanting growth, it's a type of punishment that makes you think you're inhumane for wanting a little bit more. selfishness isn't bad." 

a small ding echoed through the quiet cafe, a sniffle followed, voices whispering among themselves reached the back end. this prompted you to wrap up the little speech,

"enjoy your iced tea.” he nodded. weakly.

“you're human. you can be selfish whenever you want, heeseung.” the chair squeaked from the sudden push backwards. you stood up, your americano in hand, and a voice softer than earlier—but louder for his ears.

“you're still loved, so remember that and push through, alright?" and just like the paper that drifted across the wind earlier, she was gone. a few feet apart, her back turned towards him as she served the new customers. 

for once, he hates how the duality of the world rang him up on a random tuesday night and deemed him to be in the middle. both the negatives and positives meet him in the middle. he hates how his words can't reach anyone anymore, because something just stops him from doing so. maybe what he feels, maybe the company. maybe… maybe there was no one to blame.

the condensation from the peach iced tea pooled on the wood, a small halo of light reflecting off the surface. heeseung stared at it, the plastic straw untouched. her words—those sharp, observant, terrifyingly kind words—hung in the air like the steam from her poorly extracted espresso.

“oh! jiwoo! i thought you’d skip your study sessions here tonight. the usual?”

despite the loud conversations being shared by the register, heeseung could only hear remnants of her little speech as she sat by his side. doting on the way she said his name, how it wasn't the frantic scream of a fan at a barricade or the cold, clinical tone of a staff member reading a pr statement. it was a soft landing. it was the sound of someone recognizing a person beneath the layers of ‘ace’, ‘idol’, and ‘controversy’.

he looked down at his phone. the screen was still warm, the glass etched with the vitriol of a thousand strangers who claimed to know his heart better than he did. they spoke of betrayal as if growth wasn't a painful, jagged thing. they spoke of the others as if his heart didn't ache every time he saw an empty chair.

he took a sip of the tea. it was sweet—cloyingly so—and it cut through the metallic taste of anxiety that had lived in the back of his throat for weeks

from the corner of his eye, he watched her. she was behind the counter now, her movements practiced and weary. she didn't look back at him. she didn't pull out a phone to snap a grainy photo of the ‘fallen star’  hiding in her staff corner. she just worked, conversed, and  let him be a shadow at the back end of her own corner.

heeseung felt a lump form in his throat, thick and stubborn.

i hope he knows he’s loved, and i’m sure he’s sorry—if anything, i think he feels the most guilt for things turning out this way.

she had looked right through the mask. she didn’t need an explanation or a handwritten apology posted on weverse. she just needed him to drink his tea and breathe. breathe. as if she knew how he forgot how to, for the past few days.

he pulled his cap lower, the fabric scratching against his forehead. a mixture of emotions  bubbling in the pit of his stomach, something foreign, unnamed, but familiar. like it was telling him that he’ll find himself looking for this in the future. something he wants to keep going back to and for the first time in weeks, the noise in his head—the simulated voices of a million critics—faded into the background hum of the cafe’s refrigerator, the whirr of the espresso machine, and the light banter exchanged between the customers and the girl who sat with him.

he stood up, his joints stiff. he approached the counter; quiet, his hand reaching his card out. he couldn't trust his voice not to crack, couldn’t trust his body anymore, and he didn't want to end this meeting with an impression of his tear-stained face. the girl in front of him shook her head no,  denying his initiative to pay. heeseung wanted to speak, to insist, but as if a short and burnt out candle wick, he hung his head lower. she hummed along to the song playing, and as if renewed, heeseung found a small light flickering in front of his eyes. 

you don’t have to be sorry for leaving, and growing old. he heard her sing, quietly, as if it was meant to be heard by him alone. he wanted to go with a grand gesture, a reassurance he’ll leave where he could proudly say “i’m okay. thank you.”

instead, he took the small napkin from under his drink.

with a trembling hand, he reached for a pen left by the ledger. he didn't write his name. he didn't write a long message.

thank you for the tea–and for the seat.

he left it weighted down by the empty cup. as he pushed through the heavy glass door, the cool tuesday night air hit his face. the world was still cruel, the future was still a terrifying blur of legalities and loneliness, but the weight on his chest felt a fraction lighter.

behind the counter, the girl watched the door swing shut. she didn't rush to the empty cup left on her counter. she waited until the bells stopped jingling before she walked over to reclaim her spot. passing by the empty cup, she picked up the napkin, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips.

"told you." she whispered to the empty chair. "you're still loved."

the digital clock on his dashboard flickered to 11:59 pm as he pulled into the basement of his complex. a minute left of a tuesday that had felt like a century. by the time the elevator reached his floor and the lock on his door clicked into place, it was wednesday. a new day. a day where heeseung, the idol, no longer officially existed.

the moment he closes his front door, the idol mask won't just slide off; it stayed on for a while, used to the noise he’d come home to in a unit that magically houses four grown men. the mask crumbled, realizing that there goes the life he grew up with—fleeting through time as shadows that occupy his vision.

for weeks, the word “home” felt so foreign for him. the internet followed him everywhere, his personal accounts leaked and harassed, and the comfort of six other figures who would’ve understood his fear was gone. forcefully erased from his life just because he wanted something personal. too personal. he thinks, as he forces to swallow the silence wholly.

he didn't turn on the lights. he didn't need to see the boxes half-packed or the lingering remnants of a life lived in sevens. instead, he let his back hit the cold material of the door, sliding down until his knees hit his chest.

in the dark, the ace didn't just step down; he shattered.

a few months ago, he weeped silent tears of joy, shared among his little brothers yet his figure now was the heavy opposite of the light that shone on him, on them.

for weeks, every place had been a battlefield. every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blue light of his phone, the jagged words of strangers, and the faces of the members he was leaving behind. he had been vibrating at that glass-breaking frequency for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to be still. every time he hums, or thinks of a tune—he feels it’s wrong, as if there was no place for him now in this industry he was so passionate about.

every night that passed ever since he dreadfully packed the little things he had in his own room, from their dorm, became a silent reminder of losses he couldn’t count. all in the form of opened boxes, contents still packed inside, as if he never had any intentions of settling down in his own unit. every night, the silence in the walls that cage him felt like a vacuum, yet this one felt different. a slight shift in the air, just hot but not enough to suffocate and burn him. he felt how the air that haunt him transitioned from a vacuum to a steam.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, crumpled napkin. in the dim light filtering through the window, the ink was barely legible, but he didn't need to read it. he could still taste the cloyingly sweet peach tea—the drink she had given up for him.

selfishness isn't bad. the ink bled through the napkin, some curves were accompanied with torn sheets.

her voice hadn't been the scream of a fan or the command of a manager. it had been a soft landing. she had looked at the muzzle the industry tied on his face and seen the person underneath who was just trying to breathe.

heeseung closed his eyes, and for the first time in months, he didn't see a headline. he saw the way the low rgb lights reflected in a pool of condensation on a wooden table. he saw a girl drinking a bitter americano just so he didn't have to be alone in the dark.

he wasn't evan yet but he wasn't the seventh member anymore. he was just a boy in an oversized hoodie, sitting on his floor, who realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t portrayed as a ‘traitor’ or a ‘product’. he was someone who got scolded by a tired cafe owner, humbled down that he occupied a restricted area, and willingly shared that sacred place with him—without being asked for anything in return but to breathe. to eat. 

the weight of today held him on the floor. his knees bundled tightly towards his chest, his hat thrown somewhere far, and mask discarded hastily. and for the upteenth time, he cried. it wasn’t loud, it didn’t reach the neighbor’s walls. it stayed, contained inside the empty unit. his breathing was jagged, lips bitten tightly to refrain from any guttural sound to escape. he stayed still for a few minutes, mouth now agape as he let out breathless sobs. 

he cried, and cried until his nose became clogged, his breath shallow and fast, the guilt of wanting more for himself leaking out with every sharp inhale. cursing at the cruel duality of the world.

he was sure half an hour had passed. his back felt the strain from being curled up on the hard floor and the now-warm door he rested on. heeseung spent the day traveling back and forth between reality and pieces of his memories, each giving him whiplash from the burning realization that he’s all alone now.

he missed the nagging—one voice begging him to take a bath the moment he stepped through the door. he could almost hear the click of lego bricks snapping together on the living room floor, and the chaotic, overlapping shouts of a gaming session that lasted far too long into the night. for a split second, the apartment was full. it was loud. it was home.

then, the memory snapped. the silence that followed wasn't peaceful; it was a sudden, violent vacuum. it rushed into his ears with a high-pitched ring, swallowing the phantom voices until all that remained was the low, clinical hum of a refrigerator he hadn't filled yet. the air in the unit went still—dead still. no footsteps in the hallway. no light leaking from under a roommate's door. just the sound of his own jagged breathing, which felt far too loud for a room this size.

he winced, the words thrown at him and the others by people flashing briefly in his mind. then he’s pulled, softly, like an anchor.

i think he feels the most guilt for things turning out this way.

he repeats, re-reading the strangers’ words in his mind like a mantra. and it lingers. it haunts him, and he’s too sure that it’ll continue haunting him—in a good way. to others, it might feel condescending. too intruding, too judgemental for a stranger to say, but for heeseung. for someone who wants to speak up about the departure, someone who wants to end it on a cleaner note, it relieved him. 

to be understood without having to speak. to be seen as a normal 20 something boy. to hear what he wished to hear amidst the growing hate. shortly, he’ll realize, and it’d ground him. give him another chance because what he saw today wasn't a woman tired from countless rush hours, he saw a person that forced him to breathe. to listen.

to hear that while a thousand people are screaming at him, one person witnessed half of the aftermath. and if one did, maybe others do too.

he felt lighter, yet strangely hollow—as if the selfishness she had given him permission to feel was a physical weight he wasn't yet strong enough to carry.

he crawled toward the plastic wrapped couch, leaving the discarded mask and the crumpled hat on the floor like the skin of a life he had outgrown. for the first time in a long time, his thumb didn't hover over the blue light of a social media app. he didn't seek out the poison of the comment sections to justify his pain.

instead, he let his eyes close against the dark. he didn't see the headlines. he didn't see the six faint figures of his brothers. he just chased the phantom taste of cloyingly sweet peach tea and the smell of roasted beans.

he wasn’t finished—he was just transitioning. and in the silence of his new, empty home, the memory of a tired girl in a restricted corner gave him the oxygen he needed to make it to morning. and tonight, he felt as if he could sleep without thinking about the plans they’ve made, the plans that catered seven destinies.

9:24 am.

the alarm didn’t just wake him; it intruded. it was the fifth one he’d snoozed, a persistent, digital chirp that cut through the heavy, dreamless sleep he’d finally found near dawn. heeseung reached out, his hand fumbling across the nightstand until his fingers hit the cold glass of his phone.

a single notification sat on the lock screen, glowing like a brand. with half-closed eyes, but an alert mind–he felt the same wave of anxiety that lumped itself at the back of his throat. he clicked on it, his fingers trembling and his lips as dry as the cactus jungwon gave him months ago. his little brother. 

manager: i’ll pick you up at 10 am. we’ll finalize your debut.

he didn't reply. he just stared at the word debut.

it felt strange, like a word meant for someone younger, someone who hadn't already lived a lifetime in the spotlight. he sat up, the silence of the apartment immediately rushing in to fill the space where the alarm had been. no one was shouting from the kitchen about burnt toast. no one was fighting over the shower. no one was sitting by his feet on the couch.

just the hum of the fridge and the weight of the day ahead. begrudgingly, he stood up. taking his towel and a change of clothes, "i'll shower first.” he announced.

silence.

god, it was so silent. he stopped, sweeping his eyes over the empty dorm he was given. no one answered when he called dibs on the shower, no one chimed in to tell him to be quick, no one reminded him about the cluttered sneakers he left by the door. he was alone, and if not for the digital clock that flashed at 9:30 am—maybe he would’ve fallen to his knees, and weep about his loss.

he showered in a rush, he scrubbed himself in a way where spots of his skin turned red, mimicking the growing frustration inside him. he stood still for a few seconds, letting the hot water run down his whole body, the steam doing nothing to thaw the chill under his skin. now clothed, his ears perked up the sound of his door being opened, the heavy footsteps and sniffles occupying his space and he felt it.

the dread. the fear. the emptiness—“heeseung-ssi! are you done?”

he hummed loudly in response, sloppily applying sunscreen. the bottle feeling too empty to last another day, “hyung, can you ask sunoo–” he trailed off. lips quicker than his mind and he felt his body recoil. his head nearly hitting the sink as he dreaded to let go of the habit of relying on others. on calling out for his members. it took only seconds to recover but for heeseung? it felt like hours. the door knob under his skin prickled and burned, as if reflecting the fury of the people that relentlessly waivers his trust in himself.

“the company already gave us a rundown of your schedule for the remaining weeks–your shoes are so dirty!–and after the meeting, we’ll meet with your new makeup team. did you eat? you look like the last meal you ate was last year’s.”

the door creaked and a plethora of sentences rang loudly in front of his face, nodding mindlessly to everything his ears were picking up on. they scattered towards the door, his manager continued speaking and he shadowed—rubbing sleep off his eyes. his mind trailed off to how their vans would be packed, long limbs manspreading and playfully hitting each other’s, and the laughter that would erupt whenever someone brings up moments from their practice. now, the way his legs didn’t bump to another’s felt so wrong, and his knee physically pulsed in anticipation; hoping that someone would playfully tell him off.

by the time he reached the building, his armor was strapped on tight—the clean-cut hair, the neutral expression, the posture that screamed ace.

he smiled at every staff member he passed by, not quite reaching his eyes. his hands glued to his side as he reserved the rest of his energy for the meeting, fists clenching tightly as he watched the number go up.

the 16th floor felt like a different planet. the air was filtered, expensive, and smelled of lavender-scented cleaning products and anxiety.

"you're early, evan." the staff  said, not looking up from a clipboard.

evan. the name felt like a suit that was too small in the shoulders. heeseung only nodded, his hands folding neatly in front of him—a habit burned into his marrow. he followed the manager into the meeting room. to his left, there was an empty chair. to his right, another. the gap felt like a missing limb. as he walked to situate himself on the chair placed in the middle of the table, he kept waiting for a playful shove, a whispered joke, or the grounding presence of a leader's hand on his shoulder.

instead, there were lawyers. there were pr strategists. puzzle pieces to complete, and to lock in the dream he once dreamt of sharing.

"we think the rebrand should lean into the ‘solitude’ aesthetic." the head of the creative team said, tapping a finger on a tablet. "it fits the moodboard you submitted beforehand. it’s a great choice, evan-ssi. easier concept to introduce as you work on your tracks–oh, and we’ll also request a draft or two of your tracks so we can plan the concept shoot ahead of time."

evan. he was itching to beg them to call him by his name but heeseung didn't correct them. rationalizing with himself that it’s a name he introduced before, it’s not foreign; everything was just… too fast.

he cleared his throat, the lump from when he woke up still sitting ugly at the back of his throat, and nodded with a small smile from the praises the staff were laying out for him. he watched the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling glass. they were talking about his life as if it were a marketing campaign, turning his grief into a vibe. the familiarity of the room was the cruelest part; the same chairs where they once celebrated a daesang were now the site of his surgical removal from the legacy. from his found-family.

when the meeting adjourned at 2 pm, his feet took over. habit is a dangerous thing.

he found himself on the 4th floor, standing before the heavy acoustic doors of practice room a. their practice room. he didn't go in. he couldn't. but through the soundproofing, the muffled, rhythmic bass of a familiar track leaked out.

1, 2, 3—pause. “sunoo! you’re doing a great job, just for this part— can you move closer to the center so there’s not much of a gap?” 

he heard the familiar voice of their choreographer, muffled. he didn't need to open the door to see what was happening. he could feel the shift in the air. the formations meant for the seven of them were being rewritten into six. the space he used to occupy was being filled by someone else’s stride, the choreography adjusted to hide the hole he’d left behind, still amidst the hurt—he felt overwhelmingly proud to hear that they're doing great.

he stood there for a heartbeat too long, a ghost in his own hallway, before turning away toward the elevators; joining the staff members who barely acknowledged him. the music followed him all the way to the basement, forcing him to shut his eyes tightly in hopes to ease the pain he's feeling. he bid his manager a short goodbye, heading off to another studio without looking back and waiting for the nagging.

"you look like you've been hollowed out… and you’re singing like you’re afraid to break the mic, man."

apro didn't look up from his monitors as he groaned. the studio was dark, lit only by the glowing buttons of the mixing console and a single amber lamp. this was heeseung's only safe space—a place where there were no titles glued to his name; here, he’s just a musician. he's just lee heeseung.

"i’m just... focusing on the distribution." heeseung muttered, dropping into the leather sofa. screwing the cap of his bottled water after nearly downing all of it in one go, whining softly as he hears the voice crack that ruined a particularly great recording run. he ushered his friend, apro, to turn it off.

"forget the distribution, hee." apro said, spinning his chair around. he studied heeseung’s face, noted the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his jaw. "the track is good, but it’s yours now. your voice will be the one that keeps on performing for the whole three… 3 minutes and 45 seconds track. you’re evan now, right? "

apro sighed, checking his watch. 11:28 pm.

"go home. get some air. don't come back until you've found the voice that doesn't care about the distribution." the producer jokingly kicked heeseung’s legs, a small smile etched on his face–both felt the subtle shift in the air where they tried to shut the events of yesterday out. when their eyes met, heeseung returned with a small smile. this time, it felt genuine.

the week that passed had been too loud. the meeting rooms were too bright. the silence of his apartment had begun to scream by 10 pm, and the tracks they worked on felt lost despite being praised.

a week had passed since that first tuesday. a week of being evan. a week of pretending the empty chairs didn't haunt him. a week where he's unsure if he really lived through it.

the metallic rattle of the cafe bell cut through the night.

it was 11:45 pm.

he pointed to the cheesecake. his body dragged with every movement, he didn't scan the room. didn’t even speak, he moved straight toward the back corner—the restricted zone. he pulled his cap low, fixed his mask, and sat in the same chair, his body finally exhaling a breath he felt he’d been holding since that 9 am alarm.

he waited, eyes closed, listening to the hum of the refrigerator.

five minutes passed. he didn't check his phone, learning from his mistake earlier when he scrolled through a media platform, reading all of the mixed comments that fired endlessly towards him. then, he heard the familiar, rhythmic squeak of shoes on the floor.

a tray slid onto the table. it was the same—a tall glass of peach iced tea, his cheesecake and a savory flatbread. no questions. no "welcome back”.

heeseung looked up. the girl didn't linger; she was already turning back toward the counter, her shoes squeaking softly against the tile. from the espresso machine, the familiar whirr began—the sound of a phone ringing, and the girl confirming the incoming orders.

heeseung picked up the straw, the condensation cold against his thumb. he studied how the corner gave him a perfect view of the counter’s rear, still dimly lit, and the same playlist from last week humming alongside the fridge that was placed near his table. his mind drifted towards his friend's poor attempt in grounding him, "don't come back without the confidence hee. i'll delete all the tracks, i promise." his friend threatened, heeseung remembered how he stiffened up and giggled at the empty threat, shivering at the idea of losing something again.

as he studies his corner, the cafe's interior, and the girl who wordlessly hovered around his space—heeseung realized that the confidence apro wanted wasn't in the practice room or the meeting rooms. it was here, in the smell of fresh coffee grounds and the cloyingly sweet tea.

he leaned back, head still hung low but for the first time all day, he didn't feel like a product. he just felt like a person in a chair, and that was enough to fill his lungs with oxygen to last for another week.

𓍯𓂃 the world is yours, i’ll hold it down at home . wc 6k

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⌞ .ೀ coming soon: midnight market run hyung line pt. 2 | maknae line . & 23:45__restricted part 2. ⌝