hey i was wondering if you could write something where mingyu and his gf are at a event and she started to get tired of standing but there’s no where to sit so he does wall sits so she can sit down like justin bieber did for hailey that one time? sorry this is so long, i love all your fics 🩷🩷
Anything for you || Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: this was so wholesome aweee
Wc: 502
Warnings: none!!
MASTERLIST
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“Y/n?” Mingyu's voice cuts through the fog of your daydream, snapping you back to reality you as you blink up at him.
He’s already looking at you, like he’s been watching you zone out for a second now, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.
You follow where he’s looking and realise the couple in front of you are still mid-conversation, waiting.
“Sorry, what was the question?” you say, a little embarrassed, your cheeks heating under their polite smiles.
Mingyu lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand settling at the small of your back. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures, his tone light. “Do you want to get another drink?”
You nod, grateful for the escape, and the two of you excuse yourselves from the conversation.
His hand stays on your back as you move through the crowd, steady and comforting in a way that makes it easier to breathe in events like these.
“You okay?” he asks softly once you’re away from prying ears, his eyes scanning your face with concern.
“Mm… just tired,” you admit with a sigh, leaning into him slightly. His thumb starts tracing slow, absent circles against your back, and you exhale a little, your shoulders dropping.
“Feels like we’ve been standing forever," you add, letting out a small huff as you shift your weight, reaching down to rub at your aching calf.
His eyes flick around the room, scanning for somewhere to sit, but it’s packed.
He doesn’t say anything, just takes your hand and starts leading you somewhere else.
You look up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer, just walks you over to a quieter corner near a brick wall. Then, before you can even ask again, he leans back against it and slides down into a wall sit, his shoulders hitting the bricks, thighs tensing.
You blink at him. “What are you doing?”
He pats his lap, a little grin tugging at his mouth. “Come here.”
You stare at him. “Mingyu, no.”
“Why not?” he laughs, like it’s obvious.
“I’ll feel bad,” you say, glancing around, already flustered.
He scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You think this is hard for me?” His hands find yours, giving them a gentle tug. “C’mon. I’ve got you babe."
There’s something about the way he says it, so sure, so casual, that makes it hard to argue.
You hesitate for a second longer before finally giving in, carefully lowering yourself onto his lap. His arm comes around your waist straight away, steadying you, pulling you in so you don’t have to think about balancing.
“See?” he says, a little smug, adjusting you slightly so you’re more comfortable against him. “Told you.”
You huff, cheeks warm, but you relax back into his chest anyway, letting your weight rest against him. “Show-off,” you mumble, though there’s no real bite to it.
He just smiles, leaning his head slightly forward yours before pressing a quick, soft kiss to your shoulder. “Anything for you,” he murmurs.
summary: Byeol always denies being spoiled by the boys during interviews, insisting they treat her normally. Unfortunately for her, years of clips, stories, and obvious evidence say otherwise. From feeding her first, carrying her things, fixing her clothes, and hovering whenever she looks tired, Seventeen proves again and again that Byeol may be the only person unaware she is completely babied by thirteen overprotective boys.
words: tba
seventeen members x the 14th female member
Byeol had said it so many times that even the interviewers started laughing before she could finish.
“I am not spoiled by them.” She said it with full confidence too, sitting neatly in her chair while thirteen pairs of eyes around her immediately reacted in offense.
“What do you mean not spoiled?” Seungkwan exclaimed from the side.
“We literally raised you,” Hoshi added dramatically, sniffing hard as if he had just went on a full dramatic sob moment.
“That sounds worse when you say it like that,” Jihoon muttered, earning laughter from the room.
Byeol only rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “They’re exaggerating. They treat me normally.” She said, grabbing a bottle from the table before struggling in opening it.
The interviewer smiled, already familiar with this argument. “Normally?” He asked.
Before Byeol could answer, Mingyu leaned over and placed the water bottle cap she had been struggling with back into her hand after opening it for her.
Joshua gently fixed her sleeves, that were slightly crinkled. Jeonghan wordlessly slid a snack into her lap, knowing that she tends to get hungry. Then Dokyeom, Seungcheol, and Minghao were dramatically hovering around her as if they were mother hens. At this point, there were 13 men fretting over at this point, calling her princess in different languages.
“Princess!”
“Princess, let me carry you-“
“Stop it!” She exclaimed out loudly, playfully pushing their hands away.
The room burst into louder laughter as the thirteen boys jokingly bowed to the audience before returning back to their seats.
Byeol stared at them in disbelief. “You all did that on purpose.”
“We did nothing,” Vernon said calmly.
“Technically, it shows that they’re really spoiling you a lot, Byeol-sshi,” the interviewer said.
The members nodded like witnesses in court. Byeol groaned and covered her face while everyone laughed again.
For years, she had insisted they did not baby her. According to Byeol, they were simply kind older members who cared for her as their bandmate and friend.
But according to everyone else, she was hopelessly spoiled.
There were too many clips of jackets being draped over her shoulders before she noticed the cold. Too many moments of members feeding her first before touching their own food. Too many scenes of them panicking over tiny cuts, carrying her bags, fixing her hair, guiding her through crowds, and hovering whenever she looked one percent tired.
Byeol continued denying it every chance she got. And SEVENTEEN just continued proving her wrong without even trying.
1. The “Byeol Eats First” Rule
Whenever food arrived in the practice room, the members acted like it was a law that Byeol had to eat first. Containers were barely set down before someone slid them toward her. Another member would already be opening chopsticks or peeling the lid off her drink. If she said she was not hungry yet, they ignored her and placed food in her hand anyway. If there was one last dumpling left, thirteen hungry men somehow became full the moment Byeol glanced at it.
Whenever they would go abroad for their world tour and had the opportunity to go around to eat street foods, the boys would buy different set of pieces and would allow Byeol to take the first bite. Though for Jeonghan, before she could even take a bite from his, he would simply pull the food away and would ask with a teasing voice. “Byeol-ah, nugu aegi?”
Byeol would simply stare at him with a small pout before saying, “Hannie Oppa’s aegi.”
Cue, thirteen boys squeals (more like screeching)
2. Escorting Her Through Crowds
At airports, music shows, and crowded events, Byeol never realized when the formation happened. One member would naturally walk ahead, two stayed at her sides, and another checked behind them. Hands hovered near her shoulders so she would not get bumped. She would complain that she could walk by herself, but nobody listened. If it were only their rules, they wouldn’t even allow her to walk, instead, they would just simply carry her around lol. So for now, they would simply guide her forward while continuing their own conversations like protecting her was second nature.
3. Checking if She Slept
The first thing they asked in the morning was rarely a greeting. It was always whether she had slept well. Eversince she had joined the group in 2017, it was known to everyone that Byeol’s a student so she truly juggles a a lot with her academics and idol life. If Byeol looked tired for even one second, everyone would notice immediately. They could tell from the way she blinked slower, how quiet she was, or how she dragged her feet. Then the mothering began. Minghao would always make her warm tea, using the herbs that he had bought from China, and even used his expensive tea set just for her to enjoy. Jihoon would quietly pull her to sit beside him inside the Vocal’s Team van, ushering her to take a nap with him. And of course, it was surprising that it wasn’t Seungcheol or Jeonghan who were scolding her for stayint up too late— it was Joshua. He was very much scarier when he’s angrily scolding at her, in her opinion.
4. Automatic Jacket Service
If the room felt cold, Byeol never had time to notice before a hoodie was dropped over her shoulders. Sometimes one member covered her legs with a blanket while another fixed the hood around her head. There were days she looked down and realized she was wearing layers from three different members at once. None of them seemed to care that they were freezing as long as she was warm.
5. When She Gets Scolded
If staff corrected Byeol too harshly, the entire mood of the group shifted immediately. Nobody argued back, but every member moved closer to her once it was over. One made her laugh with a bad joke, one passed her a snack, another quietly fixed her hair. Someone would ask if she wanted to practice together later. They never let her sit alone with embarrassment for long.
In other situations where Byeol was deeply troubled that might cause trouble with her contract with them, Seungcheol’s the first in line to march towards the PLEDIS/HYBE main office to discuss and defend his princess. There would also be situations where her life is in danger, you bet there would be consequences and the boys will definitely press charges for her safety.
6. Tiny Injury = National Emergency
A papercut, scraped knee, bitten lip, or tiny headache could send the group into chaos. Literally, someone did run out of the HYBE building just to buy for bandages, initially forgetting that their company has their own clinic within that building. Seungkwan would start searching tor symptoms online like it was a life threatening case. Then later they would cry out that it might cause cancer if not treated, which obviously led to another bickering session for the whole group (do not trust the internet). Jeonghan would obviously be the type of member to glare suspiciously at the chair or table that had hurt her, most probably thinking of selling it or perhaps burning it. Byeol would be standing there perfectly fine while everyone around her panicked louder than necessary.
7. Letting Her Win on Purpose
They loved claiming they were competitive until Byeol started losing a game. It was always known during Going Seventeen episodes that Byeol’s great at games, but there are a few times that she would lose in those too. Then out of nowhere, sudden mistakes happened everywhere. Hoshi forgot rules he made himself. Mingyu dropped cards from his hands. Seungkwan acted like luck had personally betrayed him. Byeol would celebrate proudly while they exchanged knowing looks behind her back.
8. Hair and Accessory Patrol
The members constantly fixed something on her without asking. They adjusted crooked microphones, brushed lint off her sleeves, retied shoelaces, straightened necklaces, and smoothed messy bangs away from her eyes. It became so common that Byeol would pause mid sentence whenever someone approached her face with serious concentration. Each of the boys also had a habit to bring a hair tie around their wrists or bring a floral clip that would usually be seen hanging on their bags.
The boys would never complain when Byeol would stick cute clips on their bag straps. She would only deem them worthy of being fabulous. So, the boys just wore it like it’s their badge of honor from the princess.
9. Ensuring Their Princess Never Cries
It was known to everyone that Byeol is a Pisces, so the water signs tend to be emotional over things, and Byeol was no exception. Whenever Byeol looks even slightly upset, the members immediately notice. The energy in the room shifts without anyone saying anything. One of them will quietly move closer to her, another will try to make her sit down, and someone else will gently ask what is wrong in a softer voice than usual. They do not rush her or pressure her to talk. They just stay near her, making sure she is not alone in it. For them, it is simple. If Byeol is hurting, they will stay until she is okay again.
10. Watching Her Reactions
Whenever something funny happened on camera, half the members were not even watching the main event. They were watching Byeol. If she laughed, they laughed harder. If she looked confused, a few of them would start explaining at once. If she looked amazed, they became even more dramatic just to hear her laugh again.
11. Byeol Falling Asleep Anywhere
If Byeol fell asleep in a chair, on the couch, in the van, or backstage, the room instantly became quieter. Voices dropped to whispers. Someone would place a blanket over her. Someone moved bags so she could stretch out within that cramped space. Another member guarded the area like security. They acted less like bandmates and more like parents trying not to wake a toddler. And they definitely adjusted really well when it comes to her.
12. Proud Parent Mode
Whenever Byeol accomplished something small, the reaction was ridiculous. If she finished a hard performance, remembered choreography quickly, cooked something edible, or answered confidently in interviews, the members cheered like she had won an award. Loud applause filled the room. Boys would be sobbing fake tears and exclaiming how proud they were. Dramatic much. They praised her so much she became embarrassed every time. But, they were truly the best moral support she could ever ask for.
13. The Habit She Never Notices
Byeol insisted she was not babied at all. The members only laughed because the proof happened every day. The second she entered a room, multiple voices asked if she had eaten, if she was cold, where her phone was, why she was carrying something heavy, and whether she had slept enough. She never noticed how automatic it all was. They did it because caring for Byeol had become part of their routine, and nothing will change that.
So no matter how many times Byeol insists she is treated normally, nobody believes her anymore. Not the fans, not the staff, and definitely not the thirteen members who continue to spoil her without thinking twice. At this point, Byeol may be the only person left who does not realize that being babied by Seventeen has simply become part of her everyday life.
summary: During SEVENTEEN’s Home fan sign, a deaf fan approaches with a whiteboard expecting to communicate through writing, until Byeol surprises everyone by responding in sign language. What begins as a quiet interaction turns into one of the most unforgettable moments of the era.
genre: slice of life, wholesome, comfort, emotional, and short mention of grief
words: 2.5k
seventeen x svt’s 14th member x deaf!carat reader
notes: i took inspo from the twinkling watermelon kdrama and i literally sobbed my eyes out writing this one 🥹
[January 24, 2019]
The fanmeet for SEVENTEEN’s Home comeback had already been warm from the very beginning.
It was one of those winter afternoons in January where the venue lights felt soft instead of harsh, where the members wore cream knits and pale colors, where everyone seemed gentler than usual. The comeback itself carried that same feeling of comfort and warmth. It was the kind of song people listened to when they needed to breathe again.
Rows of CARATs waited patiently, clutching albums to their chests, hands trembling from excitement. The line moved steadily down the long table where thirteen boys smiled, greeted, signed pages, listened carefully, and laughed often.
And in the middle of them all sat Byeol.
She was still the young 17 year old who still carries the quiet bright personality that people would always took notice of.
She wore an oversized cardigan over her pastel pink crop top shirt because she had complained backstage about the cold. Her hair was pinned back loosely, and every few minutes she tucked a strand behind her ear while speaking to fans. She was a little tired— comeback schedules had been nonstop— but she still greeted every person like they were the first fan of the day.
To her right was Minghao, elegant and composed as always, writing neat messages into albums with focused eyes. To her left was Jihoon, who looked serious until fans said something funny and made him crack a smile.
The staff called the next fan forward.
A young woman stepped up carefully, clutching a small whiteboard and marker to her chest. Her hands shook slightly— not from cold, but nerves. Her album was decorated with tiny stickers, and hanging from her bag was a small trinkets of keychains that were seventeen related.
She bowed first to Minghao.
Minghao smiled immediately, accepting the album with both hands. Then he noticed the whiteboard.
The fan uncapped the marker quickly and wrote something down before showing it to him.
‘Hello! I’m Y/n! I’ve been a fan for three years now. I’m deaf. I apologize if I couldn’t speak to you properly.’
Minghao’s expression softened instantly. He placed a hand over his chest and bowed deeper this time, slower, more deliberate. Then he pointed to the board and gave her a thumbs up, waiting patiently while she wrote more.
They communicated through smiles, gestures, and written notes. It took a little longer, but neither of them minded. Minghao even wrote a message back in neat Hangul, making her laugh silently when he added a tiny doodle beside his name.
Then she stepped to the next seat.
Byeol looked up with her usual bright grin, reaching automatically for the album.
“Hi—” she began cheerfully.
The fan lifted the whiteboard.
‘Hello, Byeol-ah! I’m your Unnie Y/n. I’ve been a fan of yours since your Produce 101 era. I’m deaf, I apologize if I can’t communicate properly with you. It’s so nice to see you.’
Byeol’s words stopped mid breath. For a split second, she only stared at the board. Then her eyes widened— it was not in discomfort, nor confusion, but from realization.
“Oh,” she mouthed softly, mouth completely going into an “O” shaper lips.
Then her entire face lit up.
She quickly placed the album down, leaned forward, and gently waved both hands in the fan’s line of sight to catch her attention.
The fan looked up, blinking in confusion.
Byeol raised her hands and began to sign.
‘Hello. Nice to meet you, Unnie. I’m Byeol! Thank you for coming today. Don’t worry, please speak comfortably. I can understand you well.’
The marker slipped from the fan’s hand and clattered softly onto the table.
Her mouth fell open. For a second she simply stared, eyes wide and wet with shock. Then she pointed shakily to herself, as if asking ‘me?’
Byeol nodded eagerly and signed again, slower this time. ‘Yes, of course unnie. It’s nice to meet you as well.’
The fan covered her mouth with both hands, happy sounds escaping from her mouth. Around them, the venue seemed to hush down as they realized what was happening.
Nearby fans noticed first. Then the staff who worked behind, their managers seemed to have paused to watch the interaction with soft gazes. Then members further down the table started glancing over curiously.
“What’s happening over there?” Mingyu curiously asked, leaning his head nearest to the table just so he could see clearly to his left.
Minghao turned fully in his seat. Jihoon paused mid-signature. Seungkwan down the line craned his neck dramatically until Joshua nudged him back into place. Seungcheol had to stand up to look closely as he was worried that another incident would’ve happened, but the scene only made his eyes soften at the sight of their softhearted maknae.
Byeol, oblivious to everyone else, kept smiling at the fan like nothing else mattered but their fan.
‘It’s been a while since I’ve signed so I might be a little rusty. Sorry if mistakes.’
The fan shook her head rapidly, tears spilling now. She immediately replied back as she shakily worked on doing the ASL .
‘No need to feel sorry. Thank you. Thank you so much for being so kind, Byeol-ah’
Byeol read it and her own expression softened.
Then she signed again with a soft smile. ‘You waited long time to come here?’
The fan nodde, ‘Three years. This is my first fansign. I was nervous.’
Byeol inhaled sharply, looking genuinely moved. She placed one hand over her heart.
Then signed with extra care.
‘I’m happy you came. Very happy! In fact, I can explode from happiness!” She sighed, exaggerating her movements. This seemed to crack smiles among the members who were glancing over to their way from time to time.
‘How do you know sign language?’
Byeol read it. Something soft passed over her face. She smiled softly at her.
‘My father was deaf.’
The fan froze.
Byeol continued, slower now.
‘This was technically my first language too.’
She gave a small, shy smile and added, though she was saying the words outloud softly just so she wouldn’t mess things up.
‘At home, we spoke with hands and eyes.’
The fan softly smiled, raising her hands to sign once again.
‘I never thought I would meet an idol who understands me. I find it hard to communicate well with other people.’
Byeol’s brows knit together. Genuine sadness.
Then she signed back firmly.
‘You should be understood everywhere. Every person is precious in this world, and you deserved to be understood as much as the rest of us.’ The fan burst into silent tears.
Even Minghao looked away for a second, smiling softly to himself.
Down the table, Seungkwan sniffled dramatically.
“Why am I crying?” he whispered
“Seungkwan-ah, you’re such a cry baby.” Jun snickered, patting Boo’s back.
The main vocalist lets out a watery laugh, “This is just moving.”
Byeol watched as the fan did another sign. ‘Your father must have been proud of you.’
Byeol’s entire expression softened into something younger. More vulnerable.
She looked at the words for a moment before signing slowly. ‘He was my biggest supporter.’
Byeol paused for a moment, smiling softly as memories of her and her father together when she was a child.
‘He passed away years ago. I still think of him every day whenever I perform, both of my parents.’
The fan covered her mouth again, brows furrowing in sadness, not entirely expecting for Byeol to open up.
The young idol continued, hands gentler this time.
‘Even if he could not hear the music, and I wasn’t a professional singer yet since I was technically still a kid. He would always say he could feel it through me.’
The fan burst into silent tears that she couldn’t stop, shoulders trembling as she laughed soundlessly at the same time.
Byeol panicked immediately in the way only Byeol could. “Oh no! Ottokaee, don’t cry jebal.” She exclaimed, her hands flew up.
‘No cry! Wait— just happy cry, okay. But no sad cry! Because, if you cry i’ll cry too.’ Byeol signed, laughing softly as her emotions seemed to heightened the more she thinks about it.
The fan laughed even harder, couldn’t stop herself from getting emptiomal.
Jihoon beside them quietly slid a tissue box toward Byeol without looking up from his seat. Byeol grabbed it, gasped in gratitude, and offered tissues to the fan with both hands.
Minghao smiled so softly it nearly went unnoticed.
Even the bodyguards that were standing by were smiling at the interaction. It was a good thing that the managers and staff had took noticed of this, so they at least extended a few minutes for Byeol to be with the fan.
The fan wiped her eyes and signed once again.
‘I’m grateful that your parents had raised you well, our uri maknae. Even if your started with seventeen late and was paused for a short moment, i’m glad you’re still fated to stay with us in this family that we formed. You guys, this group, have always been my inspiration to live in this world so thank you.’
Byeol lips turned downward into a pout, hands trying to cover up her face that seemed to fail to hide her sadness. “Mygosh, you are so sweet, Unnie.” She said, laughing as she horribly tried to fan herself using her right hand but failed when a tear slipped down her cheeks.
The members seemed to have noticed this, pausing for a moment to watch their maknae in worry. Minghao, who seemed stopped for a moment to pat the girl’s back, softly smiling and whispering a few encouragement words in chinese. The girl nodded, closing her eyes for a moment to recompose herself.
Their fans in the audience lets out a chorus of awwww, then out of nowhere, a fan screamed at the top of his lungs. “Don’t cry, Maknae!”
This caused the whole table to laugh, even the two who were having a moment.
Byeol bowed her head, wiping a few of her tears from her corner of her eyes and cheeks. She tried not to think much of her parents since she knew deep down that it would only make her feel sad and lonely of being orphaned at a young age. Grief was always a quiet thing for her— something that was not outspoken, but it lingered in the softest corners of her heart, waiting for moments like this to resurface.
Byeol took a shaky breath, her shoulders trembling slightly as she tried to steady herself. She looked back at the fan, eyes glistening, a fragile smile forming despite the tears that refused to stop.
“Unnie…” her voice came out softer this time, almost like a whisper meant only for the two of them. “Thank you… really.”
She pressed her lips together for a second, as if holding back a flood of emotions, before continuing, signing once again as she said her thoughts out loud.
“I think… sometimes I wonder what kind of person I would’ve become if things were different. If my parents were still here…” Her voice wavered, but she didn’t look away. “But moments like this— when someone like you says things like that to me… it makes me feel like maybe I didn’t lose everything.”
Her hand slowly dropped from her face, fingers curling slightly as if trying to hold onto the warmth of the moment.
“You said you’re grateful to my parents…” she let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I think… they would be the ones grateful to you. Because you’re here, just like the other carats, loving me, supporting me… helping me grow into someone I hope they’d be proud of.”
Another tear slipped down, but this time she didn’t try to hide it.
“I know it took long for me to join but I think it was just a long path that still led me here. To seventeen, to carats, to you…” she smiled gently, eyes soft but certain.
She placed a hand over her chest, as if grounding herself.
“I’m so happy to hear that we inspire you to live… but you should know, Unnie… you inspire me too. Every letter, every word, every time you, carats, stay with us— it reminds me that I’m not alone. That I have a family I found, not just one I lost.”
Her voice cracked at the last sentence, and she quickly laughed through it, embarrassed but sincere.
“So… please don’t thank me alone, okay?” she added softly, continue to sign. “Let’s… keep living well together. For the people we’ve lost, and for the people we’ve found.”
Byeol gave a small bow, lingering a second longer than usual, as if pouring all her gratitude into that simple gesture.
When she lifted her head again, her smile was still tearful— but this time, it felt whole. “Ah jinjja, we shouldn’t be crying unnie! Our make up is now ruined,” She jokingly said, grabbing a tissue from the box to wipe off her tears then encouraged the fan to grab some tissues as well.
She then grabbed (y/n’s) album and started signing and leaving small notes of motivation for her in the album. The maknae would nod and giggle in whatever things that the fan had said to her.
This time was up, Byeol laughed helplessly and reached across the table, gently offering both hands.
The fan placed hers into Byeol’s hands, bowing her head down in appreciation. The young girl smiled and squeezed her hands warmly.
Someone further down the table sniffled loudly.
“Is that Seungkwan-hyung crying?” Chan whispered as he peered from the other side of the table.
“It is,” Vernon answered.
The line behind the fan had gone still, everyone watching quietly with soft expressions. A few fans were already wiping tears. Phones were lowered out of respect. No one wanted to interrupt.
Byeol signed one more sentence before handing the album back.
‘Come again. Next time, I better know more a little about you. Promise.’
The fan wrote with shaking hands.
‘You already gave me enough today.’
Byeol read it, then immediately shook her head.
‘No. You came to see me. I should give more.’
The fan laughed through tears and bowed deeply, it was so deeply that Byeol hurried to bow back just as low, almost hitting her forehead on the table in the process. Jihoon caught her sleeve before impact.
“Careful,” he muttered automatically.
She straightened and grinned sheepishly.
The fan moved on down the line, still crying, clutching the album like treasure.
As soon as she was out of reach, Jihoon glanced sideways. “You never told us you knew sign language.” He stated.
Byeol blinked. “I know a little.”
Minghao added quietly, “That little was enough.”
She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I’m rusty. I used to do it a lot back then.”
Jihoon clicked his tongue. “You were cool. I’m so proud of you.” He said, patting her back softly.
She gasped, eyes sparkling at him. “Was that a compliment, Jihooniee Oppa?” She squaked.
“Don’t make it weird, kid.” He deadpanned.
Down the line, Dokyeom dramatically shouted, “Why do I only learn things about Byeol during public events?”
“Because you never listen to us in general,” Jeonghan replied. Dokyeom paused for a moment, before gasping out loudly.
“That is slander.” He exclaimed, abruptly standing up in his seat which earning laughs from members and their fellow carats. Byeol giggled, tilting her head upwards in surprise when the manager placed a flower crown on her head. She sheepishly smiled before looking at the next fan.
The fansign continued, but something had changed in the room after that. It felt softer with a hit of warmth encapsulating the mood of the room.
Later that night, clips spread everywhere online. It went over the internet how wholesome it was for Byeol to communicate with the deaf fan. Communication has no limits. That’s what Byeol truly stands for.
Years later, fans would still talk about it as one of Byeol’s most beautiful and iconic moments.
But Byeol herself, when asked about it once in an interview, only looked confused and said,
Summary: He always picture you and him to be a parent of daughter. So when your baby daughter was born, he already knew what to do and it makes everything easier.
Author note: Hi! I'm available to tip now, send me Jeans👖 here on ko-fi🤍
Jisoo felt a tiny hand slap his face as he was peacefully sleeping. A smile crept onto his lips even before he opened his eyes, the familiar squeals of his 10-month-old daughter echoing softly in the quiet room. As he finally blinked his eyes open, he saw her sitting upright on the bed, her chubby hands patting his chest as she babbled incoherently, demanding attention. No one was ready to play at 6:30 a.m. except for little Yuri.
Chuckling, Jisoo stretched out his arms, lifting her into the air before settling her onto his stomach. She let out a delighted squeal, her laughter filling the room like music. "Good morning, princess," he murmured, brushing her fluffy hair out of her eyes as she wiggled happily.
Last night came to mind—he remembered bringing Yuri to bed after her midnight cries echoed through the house. Both you and Jisoo had stirred awake, but before you could even swing your legs off the bed, Jisoo had already sat up, saying, "I'll handle it," in a sleepy but determined voice.
"What's wrong, Yuri?" he had asked gently as he approached her crib, her tiny face scrunched up in distress. The moment her teary eyes spotted him, her cries softened to sniffles. Jisoo picked her up, her small body melting into his chest as if that was all she needed to feel safe. After changing her diaper and preparing a bottle of formula in the dimly lit kitchen, he carried her back to bed. Yuri had quickly fallen asleep in the middle of the bed, sandwiched securely between her parents.
Now, as the early morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred beside him, your voice soft and groggy. "Who's this little troublemaker..." you mumbled, squinting at Yuri as she crawled toward you.
The moment Yuri heard your voice, her babbling turned into excited squeals, and she wriggled out of Jisoo’s arms to reach you. Giggling, you scooped her up and brought her closer. "Why are you up so early, hm?" you asked, your voice playful as you nuzzled your face into her soft, round belly. Yuri's laughter erupted, a pure, joyous sound that warmed your heart.
"Why don't we all go back to sleep, baby?" you whispered, laying her down beside you and wrapping her in a warm embrace. But being an active and curious 10-month-old, Yuri had other plans. She squirmed free almost immediately, crawling over you and Jisoo with boundless energy.
Jisoo propped himself up on one elbow, watching the scene unfold with a grin. "Yuri, are you that excited already?" he teased, leaning in to tap her nose gently. She responded with more babbles, her tiny hands flailing as if trying to explain her morning enthusiasm.
"Alright, alright," Jisoo chuckled, sitting up and scooping her into his arms. "Let’s let Mom sleep a little more while we go grab some breakfast, okay?" Yuri’s eyes sparkled, as if she understood her father’s plan.
Jisoo placed Yuri gently into her highchair, securing her in place before sliding it up beside the kitchen counter. Her tiny hands smacked the tray enthusiastically, babbling as her big eyes followed his every move. Jisoo smiled at her, responding to her every sound with a soft laugh or a playful "What’s that, princess?" as he prepared her breakfast.
He pulled out a perfectly ripe avocado and sliced it while waiting for the toast to pop up from the toaster. Humming softly, he scrambled an egg for protein, plating everything neatly for Yuri. Her small squeals of excitement filled the kitchen as she watched him work.
Moments later, you emerged from the bedroom, still a bit groggy but ready to help out with breakfast. Stretching as you entered the kitchen, you smiled at the scene before you: Jisoo fussing over Yuri, who was happily babbling away in her highchair.
"Do we have any veggies, babe?" Jisoo asked, peering into the fridge as he looked for something to add to Yuri’s meal.
You joined him at the fridge, pulling out a bunch of broccoli. "I’ll steam these for you. Avocado toast?" you asked, gesturing to the stack of avocados on the counter, too sleepy to consider a more complicated breakfast option.
Jisoo laughed, catching the subtle tiredness in your voice. "Sure, babe. That works. I'll pop some bread in the toaster for us."
Your heart softened at his thoughtful offer, and you leaned in for a quick kiss. He smiled into the kiss, but before he could say anything, Yuri squealed loudly, her little arms flailing in excitement. She loved seeing her parents share affection.
"Mama! Mama!" Yuri called out, her bright voice making both of you laugh.
Jisoo turned to her with an exaggerated look of surprise. "Papa!" he said, pointing to himself and trying once again to coax her into saying his name. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried, but Yuri seemed determined to make him wait.
Yuri stared at him with a mischievous smile, her little cheeks puffing up with glee. Jisoo sighed dramatically, leaning over to press a kiss to her temple. "I’m convinced she’s holding back on purpose," he said, turning back to you with a grin.
You chuckled, finishing up the eggs and setting them on the toast. "She definitely knows how to mess with you," you teased, sliding the toast onto a plate.
Jisoo propped his elbow on the counter, smirking. "Wonder where she got that attitude from," he mumbled playfully, his gaze flicking to you.
"Careful," you said with mock sternness, laughing as you pulled the steamed broccoli out and set some on Yuri’s tray. You grabbed her plate, placing it on the highchair tray in front of her. "Yuri! Let’s eat," you cooed, pushing her closer to the table.
Jisoo laughed as he followed you to the table, carrying the avocado toast you’d prepared for the two of you. Yuri wasted no time reaching for her food, her little fingers grabbing a piece of broccoli as she babbled happily.
"You want coffee?" Jisoo asked, setting your plate in front of you and leaning down slightly to meet your gaze.
"Sure, thanks," you said with a soft smile, sitting beside Yuri to help her with her breakfast.
As Jisoo brewed the coffee, he glanced back at the two of you. Watching Yuri munch on her broccoli, occasionally glancing at you for reassurance, filled him with warmth.
Jisoo glanced at you with a questioning look when you casually slid one of your toasts onto his plate. "What’s this?" he asked, raising a brow in mild disbelief.
"I’ve had enough," you murmured, taking a slow sip of your coffee, avoiding his gaze.
Jisoo narrowed his eyes slightly, unconvinced. In no universe could his wife, you, have possibly eaten enough already. He knew you too well—you never left food unfinished unless you physically couldn’t eat another bite.
"You sure?" he asked, picking up the toast, his tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.
You nodded, quickly redirecting your attention to Yuri, who was happily holding pieces of her soft toast in both hands, her cheeks puffed out as you helped her eat bits of scrambled egg in between.
Jisoo chuckled quietly, still watching you as he finished his food. The three of you remained at the dining table, savoring the cozy morning together while Yuri enjoyed her breakfast. Jisoo couldn’t help but laugh every time Yuri deliberately squished her food between her tiny fingers or smushed it against her highchair tray, giggling as though it was her way of entertaining her parents.
"No, eat it properly," you tried to warn her in your soft yet firm "mom voice," but Yuri wasn’t having it. Her giggles turned into a squeal as she continued playing with her food.
Jisoo leaned back in his chair, stealing glances at you as you sighed and relaxed against the backrest, your eyes wandering to the untouched piece of toast on your plate. He smirked knowingly. You could never leave food uneaten, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.
"Eat it, babe," he said with a warm smile, his tone gentle but encouraging.
You let out another sigh, glancing at the toast before mumbling, "I think it’s time."
Jisoo raised his brows, intrigued. "Time for what?" he asked, leaning forward slightly as if to make sure he caught every word.
"Losing weight," you admitted, your tone casual yet tinged with determination. You glanced at him, waiting for his reaction.
Jisoo tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly. "What’s wrong? You’re perfect," he said sincerely, his voice filled with genuine care.
You shrugged, grabbing a napkin to wipe Yuri’s messy mouth as she continued to babble and grin at both of you. "I know," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s just… I think it’s time to get back on track, you know? Focus on myself a little more."
Jisoo nodded, understanding immediately. He wasn’t one to push you, but he always supported your goals, whatever they might be.
"And since Yuri’s started taking formula now," you added, glancing at your daughter, who was happily gnawing on her toast, "it feels like the perfect time to start the drill."
Jisoo’s lips curled into a soft smile as he reached across the table, placing his hand gently over yours. "Whatever you want to do, I’m with you," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "But just so you know, you’re already amazing as you are."
You smiled back, squeezing his hand lightly. "Thanks," you whispered, feeling the familiar warmth of his support wash over you.
As you gently wiped the crumbs off Yuri’s cheeks, she squirmed in her highchair, babbling excitedly. Her breakfast was a success, as evidenced by the mess she’d created on her tray. You smiled softly, brushing the bits of scrambled egg off her little hands.
Jisoo stood beside the sink, rinsing his plate, and turned his attention to you and Yuri. "Hey," he started, his tone casual but thoughtful, "if you want to hit the gym or go for a workout, I can watch Yuri for a bit."
You glanced up at him, surprised by the offer. "Really? Are you sure?" you asked, carefully unfastening Yuri’s highchair straps and lifting her into your arms.
Jisoo dried his hands on a kitchen towel and walked over to you. "Of course. You’ve been talking about getting back into a routine, and I’ve got no problem keeping an eye on her. Right, Yuri?" He gently poked her tummy, earning a delighted giggle from her.
You chuckled, adjusting Yuri on your hip. "You do realize she’s going to keep you on your toes the whole time, right?"
Jisoo chuckled, "come on, I’m her dad. I’ve got the stamina for this."
"Well, you sound confident. I might just take you up on that."
"Good," Jisoo replied, cradling Yuri in one arm while using the other to brush her hair away from her face. "But seriously, go do something for yourself. Hit the gym, take a yoga class, or even just grab a coffee and relax. I’ve got this."
You smiled at him, the weight of his offer sinking in. "Thanks, babe. I think I’ll take you up on that. I’ve been meaning to check out that new gym a few blocks away."
"If you want to do some cardio, you know I can help, right?" he teased, a playful smirk on his face as he balanced Yuri on his hip.
You turned around, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? And what exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Hong?"
Jisoo’s wink was shameless, his confidence radiating as he adjusted Yuri in his arms. "I’m just saying, some activities burn just as many calories as running," he quipped, his tone dripping with humor.
You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the grin tugging at your lips. "Smooth," you muttered, shaking your head
Yuri, oblivious to her father’s cheeky comment, clapped her hands and let out a squeal. "Mama!" she called, pointing toward you as if demanding your attention back.
You walked back over and gently poked her cheek. "See, Yuri? This is why your dad needs babysitting too."
*
Jisoo sat cross-legged on the living room floor after preparing a snack for Yuri. He placed the plate of crackers on the coffee table and handed one to Yuri, who was perched on the couch, her tiny legs swinging and her eyes glued to the TV screen. Jisoo chuckled softly as he noticed she hadn’t even glanced at the snack.
"You really love your Uncle Jun, huh, Yuri?" he said with a smile, leaning over to press a kiss to her chubby little leg. But Yuri remained entranced, captivated by the drama featuring her Jun Uncle that they had been watching since you left for your pilates session.
With an hour and a half until you’d return, Jisoo was determined to keep his promise to you—Yuri would have a great time with him, no distractions. He still felt a twinge of guilt from the last time you left him in charge when he had dozed off on the couch. Yuri, ever the independent little explorer, had ended up playing blocks alone in her room until your voice startled Jisoo awake.
"You know, I can take her to daycare for a couple of hours," you had suggested earlier, sensing Jisoo's exhaustion. But he had been adamant about being responsible. "I’ve got this," he assured you, wanting to prove that he could handle fatherhood without shortcuts.
Now, here he was, spending quality time with Yuri in front of the TV, though he couldn’t help but notice how absorbed she was in Jun’s drama.
"Yuri, what’s so special about Uncle Jun? Is he handsome?" Jisoo asked playfully, tilting his head as he observed his little girl. To his utter surprise, Yuri nodded—actually nodded—as if she completely understood the question.
Jisoo gasped in mock betrayal. "Seriously? How about Papa? I’m handsome too, you know," he teased, his tone laced with exaggerated offense.
This time, Yuri’s focus shifted from the screen to him, her wide eyes meeting his.
"Papapapa..." she babbled, her tiny voice causing Jisoo to freeze. Did she just say "Papa"?
Jisoo’s heart nearly burst with excitement as he squatted in front of her, his face lit with anticipation. "Say it again, Yuri. Come on, say Papa!" he urged, his voice filled with hope.
But Yuri, ever the mischievous one, smiled sweetly and babbled, "Mamamama…"
Jisoo groaned dramatically, flopping backward onto the floor as Yuri giggled at his reaction. "Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head while his daughter clapped her hands, clearly enjoying her father’s antics.
"Your Mama’s going to love this," Jisoo said with a laugh, reaching over to hand Yuri another cracker. Though she still seemed more interested in the TV, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Even if she didn’t say "Papa" again just yet, moments like these made every second of fatherhood worth it.
Yuri let out a string of happy chatter as she finished the cracker in her hand. Jisoo, feeling playful and wanting to challenge her, decided to turn the snack into a game. "Get one yourself," he said with a grin, placing another cracker on the coffee table just out of her reach.
Yuri, as if she understood the command, looked at the cracker with determination. She pushed herself up onto her feet, her tiny legs wobbling as she steadied herself. She had been practicing standing and walking for a few steps, often holding onto walls or someone’s hand for support, but she wasn’t quite walking on her own yet.
Jisoo, sensing an opportunity, gently pushed the coffee table a bit further away, encouraging her to try. "Come on, Yuri. You can do it," he coaxed, his tone full of excitement.
Yuri first dropped to her knees and crawled toward the table. As soon as she reached it, she pulled herself up, gripping the edge with her small hands. Jisoo crouched beside her, smiling mischievously. "No crawling this time," he said softly as he gently lifted her back onto her feet.
"Let’s take a step," he said, holding her steady before slowly letting go.
Yuri wobbled, her balance shaky, and she plopped back down onto her diaper with a little thud. Jisoo chuckled but didn’t give up. "Come on, baby girl. Let’s try again. You’ve got this."
With his encouragement, Yuri stood up once more. She teetered as she extended one tiny foot forward, her brows furrowed in concentration. When she managed to take her first step, Jisoo’s face lit up with pure joy. "Yes! That’s my girl!" he cheered, clapping his hands enthusiastically.
Spurred on by her dad’s encouragement, Yuri took another unsteady step, then another. Her little giggles filled the room as she reached the coffee table and grabbed the cracker she had been eyeing. She squealed in triumph, holding it up like a prize.
Jisoo let out a celebratory yell, jumping to his feet. "Yuri, you did it! You walked, baby! You actually walked!" He scooped her up, twirling her around as she laughed in delight, her tiny arms flailing.
Still holding her cracker tightly, Yuri babbled happily as if sharing her victory. Jisoo kissed her chubby cheek, his heart swelling with pride. "Mama’s going to be so proud when she hears this," he said, already imagining how excited you’d be to hear about the milestone.
Jisoo was on a roll. After Yuri's triumphant first steps, he couldn’t help himself—he had to see her do it again. He gently set her down on the floor and placed another cracker a few feet away on the coffee table. "Okay, Yuri, let’s go for round two," he said, clapping his hands in encouragement.
Yuri, still riding the high of her little victory, babbled in delight and reached for him before attempting to stand again. This time, her steps were a little more confident, though still wobbly. She managed three tiny steps before plopping down again, giggling uncontrollably at Jisoo’s over-the-top cheering.
"You’re a natural!" Jisoo laughed, scooping her up for a quick cuddle before setting her down again. "One more time, baby girl. Let’s show Mama just how much you’ve improved!"
The two of them turned the living room into a mini walking practice arena. Jisoo spaced out her favorite toys along the floor, creating little "goals" for her to reach. He moved from one end of the room to the other, encouraging her every time she stumbled or hesitated.
"Come to Papa, Yuri! You can do it!" he called, crouching down with his arms open. Yuri squealed and took a few hesitant steps toward him before collapsing into his embrace. "That’s my girl!" he exclaimed, peppering kisses all over her chubby cheeks.
As the minutes turned into nearly an hour, Jisoo didn’t even notice how much time had passed. He was so focused on helping Yuri improve that he didn’t realize the living room was now strewn with toys, crackers, and a pile of pillows he’d used to soften her landing spots.
*
Jisoo entered the practice room, holding Yuri’s hand as she walked beside him. The one-year-old Yuri was a bit shy, flinching slightly as she was greeted by the chorus of excited voices from the members who were eager to see her.
"My wife will pick her up in an hour," Jisoo informed everyone, explaining why he had to bring Yuri to the practice. However, no one really seemed to pay much attention to his words; they were all too busy fawning over the tiny celebrity of the day.
"It's been so long since I've seen her. I can't believe she’s gotten this big!" Dokyeom exclaimed, lifting Yuri into his arms as she reached out with her little hands, clearly asking to be picked up.
"This is what it feels like to be her favorite," Dokyeom grinned, flexing proudly as Yuri clung to his neck, burying her face into his shoulder.
Meanwhile, Seungkwan stood off to the side, feeling wronged. Yuri had been avoiding him, and worse, she outright refused to be held by him. His pout was noticeable, but the others were too caught up in Yuri’s cuteness to notice.
"You shouldn't come to her like that, Kwan," Soonyoung teased, watching Seungkwan’s failed attempts to hold Yuri.
"Dont act like she likes you more than me," Seungkwan shot back. "We’re on the same stage here."
Just then, the door to the practice room opened, and Jun walked in. As soon as Yuri saw him, her eyes lit up, and she let out a squeal of excitement.
Jisoo sighed, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. "Yuri loves Jun. She’s watched all his dramas."
The statement caught everyone off guard, and Jun himself seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation. He quickly walked over and took Yuri from Dokyeom’s arms, and from that moment on, Yuri’s eyes never left him. Even as practice began, with music playing and choreography being rehearsed, Yuri sat on the couch, content with a snack in her tiny hands.
"Sit here while Papa works, okay?" Jisoo called gently, but Yuri didn’t even glance in his direction. Instead, she shamelessly stared up at Jun, her gaze unwavering as if she was completely captivated by him.
The room fell silent for a moment, everyone watching as Yuri refused to acknowledge Jisoo, only caring about Jun. The contrast between the two was almost too funny. Jisoo couldn't help but shake his head, a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face. "I guess I’ll never be her favorite," he muttered under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the others.
"Looks like Jun hyung is the real star of the show now," Dokyeom teased, and the rest of the members nodded in agreement, still entranced by Yuri's devotion to Jun.
The clock struck 10 PM, signaling that it was well past Yuri’s bedtime. You and Jisoo sat comfortably on the couch, unwinding after a long day. Jisoo had just come home from practice, and after you accompanied him during his late dinner, the two of you decided to share a can of beer. It had become a quiet ritual, a time to share stories about your days and simply enjoy each other's presence.
Jisoo leaned back on the couch, a soft smile playing on his lips as he recounted his day. “The members were so obsessed with Yuri during practice,” he said, chuckling at the memory. “No one could focus because she was there stealing the spotlight. Even Dokyeom was acting like her bodyguard.”
You smiled, imagining the scene. “I bet she loved the attention.”
“Oh, she did. But guess who she gave all her attention to?” Jisoo raised an eyebrow, his tone playful. “Jun. She only had eyes for him.” He laughed, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “She wouldn’t even look at me. She was completely smitten.”
You laughed along with him, but his words sparked a thought. “You know,” you began, “I remember watching all of Jun’s dramas while I was pregnant with her. Could that be the reason?”
Jisoo’s brows furrowed in mock betrayal. “You watched all his dramas? You didn’t even watch my variety show!” His eyes widened as if he had just uncovered a great scandal.
You chuckled softly, trying to defend yourself. “Did I say all? Actually, not all of them. And for the record, I did watch your variety show!”
Jisoo raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “The full episodes?"
You cringed, guilt flashing across your face. “The clips,” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes.
Jisoo burst out laughing, pulling you into his arms. “Unbelievable. My own wife.” Jisoo burst out laughing, shaking his head at your guilty expression before pulling you into a warm embrace. "I know you like Jun," he teased.
Your cheeks flushed as you giggled, tightening the hug. "I mean… he’s so handsome. How could someone be that handsome?" you admitted, unable to suppress your grin.
Jisoo pulled back slightly, pouting like a child. "I’m handsome too, you know."
"You are," you reassured him with a smile, "but he’s, like, super handsome."
"Super handsome?!" Jisoo gasped, clutching his chest as if you had just wounded him. "That’s way too much to say about another man who isn’t your husband! You’re breaking my heart here!"
His over-the-top reaction had you bursting into laughter, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, stop being dramatic!"
But Jisoo only leaned back with a mock sigh, mumbling, "I can’t believe I’m losing to Jun in my own house…"
Shaking your head in amusement, you snuggled closer to him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I married you, didn’t I?"
Jisoo grinned, his pout disappearing as he kissed the top of your head. "Yeah, you did. And that’s all that matters. But if Yuri starts calling Jun 'Dad,' we’re going to have a serious talk."
*
A year and a half later, your house was once again filled with excitement when you found out you were pregnant again—this time, with a boy. Jisoo was over the moon, and Yuri, though too young to fully understand, was thrilled at the idea of being a big sister. As the weeks passed, you began to experience all the ups and downs of pregnancy again, but this time, there was a twist—your cravings weren’t food-related. Instead, you had an undeniable, almost ridiculous craving to see Jun in person.
It started innocently enough. One quiet evening as Jisoo folded Yuri’s tiny clothes, you glanced at him from the couch and casually said, “I don’t know why, but I really want to see Jun. Like, just once. Is that weird?”
Jisoo froze mid-fold, turning his head slowly like he’d misheard you. His lips curled into a smirk as he placed the neatly folded onesie on the growing pile. “So now it’s not just binge-watching his dramas, huh? You want to meet him too?”
You groaned, placing a hand on your belly. “I can’t help it, okay? It’s like… I need to see him. Maybe it’s the hormones.”
“Hormones, huh?” Jisoo raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure it’s not your long-brewing celebrity crush finally boiling over? Because if we’re blaming hormones, then I think Yuri was just your cover-up last time”
You grabbed the nearest pillow and tossed it at him. He dodged with ease, laughing as he dropped onto the couch beside you, leaving Yuri’s clothes momentarily abandoned.
“Don’t make fun of me! I’m being serious here,” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest. “I might actually cry if I don’t see him.”
Jisoo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically like you’d just confessed something scandalous. “Cry? You’d cry over another man? A man who isn’t your husband?”
“Oh, don’t start,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t understand. It’s not just about him being… you know…”
“Handsome? Perfect? Tall? Charismatic?” Jisoo listed with a grin, ticking the traits off on his fingers like he was keeping score. “Oh, I understand, trust me.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Of course I am,” he shot back, still grinning. “I get to see my wife all flustered over a guy I personally know. Do you want me to get his autograph too? Or better yet, a signed poster?”
You smacked his arm lightly, laughing despite yourself. “Stop it! You’re the worst.”
Jisoo feigned offense, gasping again. “The worst? Here I am, folding clothes for our child, and you’re plotting a meeting with another man. Unbelievable.”
“Baby,” you groaned, dragging out his name. “I’m pregnant! And it’s not like I’m asking for much. I just want to see him, like… once. It’s not a crime.”
“Alright, alright,” he relented, leaning back against the couch with a teasing glint still in his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m your husband. I’ll see what I can do.”
Your eyes lit up immediately. “Really? You’ll do that for me?”
“Of course,” he said, reaching over to pull you into a side hug. “But don’t think I’ll let you gush over him in front of me. I’ll have to establish dominance as your real favorite.”
“Oh, please. You’re lucky I married you,” you teased, earning a pillow thrown back at you this time. And as laughter filled the room, you thought to yourself how you really did marry the best man after all.
You weren’t sure if he was serious, but you knew Jisoo. When he set his mind to something, he always made it happen. And, true to his word, a week later, he came home with the biggest grin on his face.
“Guess what?” he said, walking into the living room where you were lounging with Yuri.
“What?” you asked, curious but suspicious of his tone.
“I arranged for us to visit the company tomorrow. The members are practicing, and Jun will be there,” he said, casually dropping the news as if it were no big deal.
Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait, really? You’re serious?”
“Of course,” he said, sitting beside you and pulling you into a side hug. “Do you think I’d let my pregnant wife cry over Jun? I’m not that heartless.”
The next day, Jisoo drove you and Yuri to the company, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. As you entered the practice room, the members greeted you warmly, all eyes lighting up when they saw Yuri and your growing belly.
But you only had eyes for one person. There he was, standing near the mirrors, his hair slightly tousled and his warm smile directed at Yuri, who had already run toward him.
“Jun,” you said softly, feeling a little starstruck despite yourself.
Jun turned to you, his smile widening. “Oh, Y/n! It’s so good to see you again.”
You felt your cheeks heat up as Jisoo, standing beside you, tried to stifle a laugh. “Go on,” he whispered, nudging you lightly.
Jun walked over and greeted you politely, his gentle demeanor putting you at ease. He crouched slightly to address your belly. “So, this is the little one who’s been making all the fuss about meeting me?”
You burst out laughing, your nerves melting away. “Apparently. It’s all his fault,” you joked, patting your bump.
As the day went on, you couldn’t stop smiling. Watching Jun play with Yuri and talk to Jisoo like old friends felt surreal. Jisoo, for his part, seemed to enjoy watching you quietly fangirl, even sneaking a picture of you and Jun talking.
Later that night, as you lay in bed, you turned to Jisoo and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for today. It really meant a lot to me.”
Jisoo grinned, pulling you close. “Anything for you. Besides, I’m just glad you didn’t run away with Jun.”
You laughed, resting your head on his chest. “Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite.”
“You better mean that,” he said playfully, kissing the top of your head.
“I do,” you murmured, your voice soft with love. And with that, you drifted off to sleep, feeling incredibly grateful for your husband who always made everything easier—because he’s Jisoo, and he always could.
Honey, Sweetheart (Yoon Jeonghan x 14th Member! Fem! Moon! Reader x Choi Seungcheol)
Summary: You can’t remember the last time Seungcheol or Jeonghan called you by your first name, and honestly? You’re okay with that.
Warnings (A lot of them IM SORRY): I use the nickname Honey and Sweetheart a LOTTT (Because that’s literally the point of the story lol), Poly fic, no actual smut but suggestive, MET Gala inspired by this GIF I found, Readers mentioned to have a stomach bug, Jeonghans enlistment, Seungcheols knee injury, reader cries? Ig that’s a warning, Reader is allergic to peanuts like Vernon, Reader doesn’t get to greet Jeonghan back after basic training due to being in the states for a schedule- this’ll make sense later I promise.
A/N: But your honor, I love them. THIS FIC IS SOOOO LONG LOL. I’m not happy with the ending but oh well.
“Honey,”
You hum, feeling the shuffle of the mattress as Jeonghan slides under the comforter behind you, then you feel his hand curl hair from your cheek, almost sensing how he leant over you, “Are you sleeping?”
“‘M trying,” You murmur back, feeling Jeonghan press his lips to your cheekbone, holding, his arm slipping to your waist, “Hannie, cameras,”
“I don’t care,” Jeonghan whispers back, hair tickling your face so your nose scrunches, head turning so when you open your eyes, you’re staring at him,
“What do you want?”
Jeonghans face drops in mock offense, “I come here with all my love, and this is how you treat me?”
“They gave me permission to sleep on camera, and you’re ruining it,” You grumble, hand on his forehead, before it drops to the jacket on his chest, “Why are you wearing this? It’s so loud,”
Jeonghan giggles, sitting up long enough to tug the jacket off so he remains in a white sweater, your head turning to bury your face in your pillow,
Jeonghans arms move back around you, tugging your back flush against his chest, lips pressing to your shoulder, “It’s cold,”
“Blanket, Hannie,” You yawn, Jeonghans arm lifting long enough to pull the blanket up to your shoulders, his hand sliding beneath your hoodie so you hiss, “Yoon Jeonghan, cold!”
Jeonghans cackle causes you to heave a sigh, fingers curling over top of his hand on your stomach firmly, “Sleep,”
“‘M not tired,” Jeonghan grins against your shoulder, then lifts his head so his chin rested instead, “Tell me a story,”
You exhale, again, twisting to lay on your back so Jeonghan laid on your pillow, thumb gentle on the skin of your hip, “You’re usually the one who’s tired all the time,”
“I’m just messing with you, honey,” Jeonghan soothes, tugging your side closer, so you hum, eyes fluttering shut,
“Can I sleep now?” You whisper, Jeonghan humming back, tilting his head to allow your foreheads to touch.
You feel him instantly relax, fingers gliding across your stomach, your own hand smoothing up his forearm, “Night, Hannie,”
“Night, honey,”
. . .
“Sweetheart,”
You lift your head, Seungcheol rounding the corner to the large area you were in, moving towards the couch you were curled up on,
“Gyu and Josh are starting dinner,” Seungcheol leans over the back of the couch, ignoring Soonyoungs loud singing into the karaoke machine, “What do you want?”
“Noodles?” You blink with a small pout, Seungcheols face moving closer so your noses touch, his free hand not holding himself steady cupping the back of your neck,
“Need something more besides noodles, sweetheart,”
You hum, in thought, lifting a shoulder to shrug, “I’ll have whatever you’re having, Cheol,”
Seungcheol hums back, leaning forward to peck your lips, “Come downstairs with me? You can not be enjoying this,”
Both of your heads turn to Soonyoung, who has dropped to his knees during the emotional line of his song, your giggle light, “Carry me?”
“Aish,” Seungcheol sighs, rounding the couch, and he leans down to lift you, bridal style, your arms looping around his neck, “Carats will think I’m soft,”
“You are,” You grin, looking over Seungcheols shoulder to the camera man behind you, pointing at it, “You seeing this? Princess treatment,”
“Sweetheart,” Seungcheol warns, glancing over his shoulder to the camera, but grins, head shaking as he rounds the same corner he came from earlier, out of the cameras sight.
. . .
“We need to get up, sweetheart,” Seungcheols murmur is quiet. You can hear the clanking of dishes downstairs, where surely Mingyu was preparing breakfast, but you only drag your fingers further into Seungcheols hair, pulling his lips back down to yours,
“They said no cameras today,” You breathe, breath hot against Seungcheols mouth, and you feel his hand squeeze at your hip, “They won’t bother us,”
“Gyu will, eventually,” Seungcheol feels his body fight back against his own choices, sinking further to where he was nearly laying on top of you, teeth catching your bottom lip playfully before grinning, “You know how he is,”
“Gyu can mind his own business,” You huff, firm as you tug at Seungcheols hair, “Please, Cheollie?”
“If we get caught, sweetheart,” Seungcheols lips move to your ear, hand sliding down so his fingers could tease the edge of your shorts, “You get to deal with them,”
“You-,” You pause when the door pushes open, startled, Seungcheol instantly leaning further over you to shield before spotting Jeonghan, relaxing almost as quick when the male at the door raises an eyebrow, scoffing,
“This is why you’re not up yet?” Jeonghan steps forward, clicking the door shut behind him, and Seungcheol backs away enough to let Jeonghan climb on the bed on your other side, letting your hand curl into his shirt and pull his lips down to yours, “Mm. Hi, honey,”
“She’s needy,” Seungcheol grunts, moving to toss the duvet off his legs and stand up, “You’ve trapped yourself now,”
“Sorry for wanting to love on you,” You scoff, pouting, Jeonghan smiling where he leans over you, pecking your cheek,
“You can love on us after you eat, honey,” Jeonghan leans back, tugging on your wrists, grinning when you whine, “C’mon, Mingyu made your favorite,”
. . .
“Think she’s awake?”
The group of seventeen stand outside the hotel door- thirteen band members, NA PD, and three camera men, Seungkwans whisper quiet in the dimly lit hallway,
“She was knocked out when I checked on her a couple hours ago,” Seungcheol shakes his head, half leaning against Mingyu where he stands on his crutches, recent from knee surgery, “So I doubt it,”
“Let me make sure she’s decent,” Jeonghan mutters, moving to the front so he could grasp the doorknob, the rest of the group silent when he slips into the dark room,
He finds you easily, you’re curled under the thick, white duvet, breaths slow when he reaches you. Hes hesitant when seeing your bare shoulders, reaching up to curl the blanket up to your collarbone, turning his head to nod where Soonyoung had his head poked in,
The light flicks on, and Jeonghan almost laughs when you don’t budge. “Honey,” His hand raises to card through your hair, and you exhale a heavy breath, nearly leaning into the touch, “Gotta wake up,”
“Han,” You mumble, eyes now pinching to avoid the overhead light, “Why?”
He giggles, again, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress just when Seungkwan crawls from the other side, hands on your shoulders, “We’re going to Italy, Noona. You gotta get up!”
“What is he yapping about?” Your murmur is quiet, Jeonghan able to hear you since he’s leaned down to kiss your cheek, his grin wide against the skin,
“We’re going to Italy, honey,” He repeats, leaning back just enough for you to furrow your brows, eyes fluttering, and Jeonghan can see the alarm on your face when spotting your members, hands frantic to keep the duvet close to your chest,
“Italy?” You breathe, taking the hoodie Seungcheol holds out to shrug it on, Jeonghan careful in making sure you stayed covered, “It’s four in the morning,”
“You all get ten minutes to get dressed, and pack whatever you can,” NA PD speaks up, laughing when everyone suddenly rushes to their own hotel rooms,
“Italy?” You repeat, Seungcheol shuffling to sit on the bed, his smile light,
“I won’t be going with you guys,” He states, your frown heavy as you crawl from under the covers, arms sliding around Seungcheols shoulders, knees digging into the mattress,
“Get dressed, sweetheart,” Seungcheol slides one arm around your back, free hand guiding your face forward to press a firm kiss to your cheek, “Let’s get you ready for Italy,”
. . .
“Y/N, come here!”
Your whole group falls silent almost instantly. Jeonghans brows knit where he is walking into the kitchen of the AirBNB, phone in hand, “What?”
“You called her by her name,” Seungcheols voice speaks from said device, Jeonghans eyebrows raising in realization, “Sweetheart, c’mere,”
“Am I in trouble?” You lower the mixing bowl you held, eyes briefly glancing to the table when Seungkwan laughs, once,
“You’re not in trouble- you’re spoiled!”
Your eyes move back to Jeonghan, pressing your cheek to his shoulder to look at his phone screen, where Seungcheol was on FaceTime, voice lowering as your group continues to giggle, “Hi, baby,”
“Hi, sweetheart,” Seungcheol tilts his head, “How’re you feeling?”
“I should be asking you that,” You slide your arms around Jeonghans, leaning further into him tiredly, “I’m okay. Stomach settled after Shua gave me some soup,”
“Good,” Seungcheol murmurs, smiling when Jeonghans cheek tilts to rest on your head, “If it starts to bother you again, try some bread. It can help with the nausea,”
You pluck Jeonghans phone from his hand, free hand reaching up to take his fingers, tugging him back into the hallway and away from the noise, “I will. I promise. How’s your knee?”
You allow Jeonghan to wrap himself around you, his arms sliding over your waist, face against your neck as you both now stand in silence, your hand holding the device turning to show Seungcheol both of you,
“As good as it can get,” Seungcheol exhales, deeply, shifting on the screen, “For three days post surgery,”
You offer him a small smile, raising your free hand to entangle in Jeonghans hair, “We miss you. ‘M sorry you couldn’t come with us,”
“Have fun,” Seungcheol orders, “Don’t forget about me,”
“As if,” You scoff, eyes drifting downwards to Jeonghan, “Hannie, it’s too early to be falling asleep,”
“You’re comfy,” Jeonghan mumbles, Seungcheol huffing a laugh so Jeonghan smiles, tightening his arms to tug you flush against him, “Sorry, Seungcheollie, but I’m gonna have to steal honey for the night,”
“Yah,” Seungcheol protests, “You have her for the next four nights,”
Jeonghan sticks his tongue out, your eyes rolling, “We love you, baby,” You remind, “I’ll call you in the morning?”
“Call me whenever, sweetheart,” Seungcheol nods, smiling, “I love you, too,”
. . .
“Hi, honey,”
It’s day three of the NANA Tour, and NA PD had announced this would be a rest day, so your group was allowed to do whatever they pleased.
You can hear Chans loud laughter now that the door is open, but its soon muffled when Jeonghan closes it, moving towards the bed you’ve decided to occupy into the late morning,
“Hi, Hannie,” Your murmur is just as quiet as his greet, and when Jeonghan climbs into the bed, he sees your phone resting on your chest, a FaceTime call on screen,
“He’s still sleeping?” Jeonghan teases, tilting his head to get a better look at Seungcheol, whose face is buried into his pillow, breaths steady,
“Leave him alone,” You scold, tilting the phone up so you could check on your boyfriend, “He’s healing. Let ‘em,”
“Is today rot in bed day?” Jeonghan then asks, curling closer to you to press his cheek to your shoulder, hand smoothing over your stomach under the sheets before settling on your hip, “Cause I’m down for that,”
“Mm, might get up once Cheol does,” You whisper, head tilting to rest against his as you both stare at the screen, “I’m still upset he couldn’t come,”
“I know, honey,” Jeonghan turns his head to press a slow kiss to your bare shoulder, “But knowing him, he’s been playing video games and sleeping. He’s resting,”
“I know,” You echo, “I hate to say it. I can’t wait to be home,”
“Two days,” Jeonghan hums, “Then he can steal you away from me,”
. . .
Seungcheol knew you were coming home tonight. But you knew once he stopped responding to your texts, that he had fallen asleep.
You’re careful as you slip into his dorm room, Jeonghan close behind, and you’re also careful in climbing onto his bed, hands sliding up Seungcheols shoulders before cradling his jaw, “Cheol, baby,”
His hum is weak, eyebrows lifting as his eyes peal open, and he smiles, hand lifting to hold your hip, “Hi, sweetheart,”
“I missed you,” You murmur, leaning down to press a slow kiss to his lips, moving to then kiss his cheek, “I’m having Cheollie withdraws,”
“C’mere, then,” His arm then slides fully around your back, letting you climb under the sheets to press against his side, Jeonghan smiling when Seungcheol turns his head to rest his lips to your forehead, “I missed you both. Have fun?”
“Mhm,” You hum, “I went on a hot air balloon,”
“Without me,” Jeonghan scoffs, moving to crawl onto your other side, arm across your hip to rest on Seungcheol as you huff a breath,
“You didn’t win it, Jeonghan,” You twist your head, Seungcheols hand then lifting to your hair to guide your attention back to him,
“No arguing, sweetheart,” He murmurs, “You just got home,”
“Sorry,” Jeonghan giggles, cheek nuzzling against your shoulder, “Honey, tell Cheollie about Wonu hiding my recorder,”
Your gasp and short laugh makes Seungcheol grin, and suddenly you’re sitting up, hand on his chest, “He took the recorder apart and hid it around the house, Cheol. Three pieces!”
“Evil,” Seungcheol snorts, eyes gazing at Jeonghan before flicking back up to you, “Why’d he have a recorder?”
“It was his mission,” You answer, “He had to play a certain song? I think? I don’t know, my mission was to make Channie laugh twelve times and I almost won, he laughed eleven times before the timer went off,”
“Anything can make Chan laugh, how’d you lose?” Seungcheols brows pinch, Jeonghan grinning so Seungcheol blinks, “What’d you do?”
Your eyes then move to Jeonghan, taking in his expression, before you lean over, shoving his chest, “You told him? Yoon Jeonghan!”
“Hey! I said no arguing!”
. . .
“Sweetheart,”
You’re surprised you heard Seungcheol over all the shouting and clicking of cameras. You glance to your right, where Seungcheol stood, dressed in a dark grey, robe like suit, hand extended,
You stand in your own outfit, also gifted by Boss as is Seungcheols, a floor length gown that matched his in color, a cloak like fabric covering your shoulders, hiding your arms if you were to keep them at your sides.
Your hand reaches out, taking Seungcheols fingers, and you allow him to guide you closer to him, his hand then sliding to your lower back, “You were too far, sweetheart,”
“Sorry,” You murmur, eyes skimming the cameras in front of you before meeting his eyes, “‘M nervous,”
“Me, too,” Seungcheol exhales, free hand in the pocket of his dress pants, doing the same look around as you then looking back to you, “But we’ve got this. We’re doing good,”
“We’re on the Red Carpet, Cheol,” You keep your voice between you, lifting your chin in a smile when a cameraman waves your attention, “The MET Gala. Who would’ve thought?”
“I like this look at you,” Seungcheol murmurs back, your eyes looking up to find his already on you, your lips pulling up, “There it is,”
“There what is?” You huff a laugh, Seungcheols hand tugging you a step closer, so your free hand reaches up, fixing the fabric of his shirt,
“Your smile,” Seungcheol points, “Not forced,”
“There’s just-,” You sigh, and you both pause to smile at the next wave of cameras, “A lot of people here. And we’re the center of the attention. I’m used to the guys being with us in these situations, Hannie, too,”
“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” Seungcheol promises, briefly glancing to the side where the stairway began. He releases you to side step, beginning up the stairs, and he holds a hand out for you to take.
You take said hand, your other lifting the edge of your dress, eyes on your heeled feet. Lord forbid you trip in front of everyone.
You hear the camera clicks grow louder, biting back a smile when you glance up, finding Seungcheol staring at you, smiling once your gaze meets his,
“Good?” He questions once your feet are on solid ground, your nod light, “C’mon, I wanna get some pictures of you for Jeonghannie,”
. . .
You knew you should’ve checked with staff first. “There’s no peanuts in this, correct?” Is usually your go-to, but for some reason, today, it had completely slipped your mind.
As soon as you hear a crunch in your ice cream, you pause. Your eyes flick down, wide, to your small cup, spoon pushing the ice cream around until you finally see the peanuts, your chest squeezing in alarm.
“Vernon, don’t eat it!” Your hands shooting out startles Vernon and Seungkwan, both staring wide eyed, Jeonghans expression matching where you’ve dropped your cup into the grass,
“Why?” Vernon’s on high alert instantly. You were the first to start eating the sweet treat, so you knew exactly what was wrong.
“Call Seungcheol and tell him to turn around,” You push a hand onto Jeonghans shoulder, and his brows pinch as you push to stand up from the blanket, spitting out the melted ice cream and peanut chunks into a napkin,
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Jeonghans phone raises to his ear, your hand wildly gesturing between the cups,
“There’s peanuts,” You cough, once, and Vernon can now see the flush on your face, “I ate it. My-my bag is in the car and they just left,”
“Holy shit,” Seungkwan mutters, Jeonghan rushed as Seungcheol finally picks up, repeating your words to turn the fuck back around,
“What’s going on?” Seungcheol asked, roughly, immediately picking up on Jeonghans panic,
“Does anyone have an epi-pen?” Vernon’s call to staff members startles Seungcheol to reach over, grabbing Wonwoos arm where he was driving the car,
“Turn around,” Seungcheol orders, Mingyus brows pinching from the back seat as he leans forward, hoping to listen in into the phone call, “Jeonghan-ah, what’s going on?”
“Y/N ate peanuts,” Jeonghan breathes, Seungcheols eyes meeting Mingyus, “Her bag is in your car. With her epi-pen,”
“Fuck,” Seungcheol twists in his seat, spotting your black bag on the floor board, grabbing it before digging inside, grabbing the orange tube from the bottom, “I’ve got it, we’re ten minutes out,”
“Paramedics are fifteen,” Vernon has the phone now, watching as three staff members helped you lay back down, your chest heaving, “Shit, hyung. I didn’t even think to bring mine or we could’ve had a backup,”
“How is she?” Seungcheol silently thanks Wonwoo for speeding up, also thankful the road was nearly empty, “She hasn’t had a reaction in almost six years,”
“Honey,” Jeonghan moves to sit behind your head, hands cradling your jaw as your eyes pinch, “Hey, don’t panic, honey. Try to take slow, deep breaths,”
You cough is rough, wheezed as you push to sit up, hand rubbing at your chest as Jeonghan scoots forward, arm around your back protectively, “They’re on their way, honey. I promise,”
“Hannie-,” Your inhale is sharp, eyes blurred as your knees curl up, alerted by Mingyus shout. When Jeonghan looks up, Mingyu has broken into a sprint, orange tube in hand, Seungcheol and Wonwoo close behind him,
“I got it, I got it,” Vernon now holds the epi-pen, hand forcing your knee down, and your eyes pinch when Vernon pops the lid from the tube, the pinch of the needle going into your thigh causing you to jolt,
“Breathe,” Vernon demands, your lips parting to suck in a deep breath, feeling your body fall slack into Jeonghans chest, “Good. Good, you’re good. Steady breaths, N/N,”
“Who the hell gave her peanuts?!” Seungcheols yell is loud, Jeonghans eyes leaving you to watch your shared boyfriend stand by the staff and camera crew, “You’ve known us for ten years and can’t remember her single allergy?!”
“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan demands, voice firm, watching the man turn on his heel, face relaxing, moving to sink down at Jeonghans side,
“Sweetheart,” Seungcheols hand cradles your cheek, not pressed against Jeonghans chest, thumb brushing the flushed skin, “You’re okay, sweetheart. We’ve got you,”
“Seungcheol-ah,” A staff member hovers close behind the leader, “Paramedics are here. They want to take her to the ER for examining,”
“I’m going with her,” Seungcheol is gentle in pulling you from Jeonghan, lifting you with one arm around your back, the other cuffed under your knees, thankful when you slide your arms around his neck, “Quit filming, film without us, I don’t care,”
. . .
“Honey?”
Your hum is light in the quiet dorm. You’re hovering by the stove, hands steady as you flip a pancake, satisfied when finding both sides evenly cooked,
“I got my enlistment date,”
Jeonghan startles when you nearly drop the pancake where you were transporting it to a plate, your eyes wide as you finally face him, grip tightening on the spatula, “When?”
You can see Jeonghan pause, “The 26th,”
“Of this month?” You squeak, briefly turning to shut off the stove then spin, and Jeonghan hates the tears in your eyes, “That’s- not even two weeks away, Hannie,”
“I know,” Jeonghan breathes, finally moving forward with his hands out, and it’s slow as you set down the spatula to step into his embrace, his cheek to your hair, “Hey, I’ll be home in a month, just after training,”
Your exhale is heavy, nod weak as you lean back, his hands catching you by your cheeks so you blink, “I know,”
“Honey,” Jeonghan coos, when a tear slips, “Hey…Four weeks. Then I will be coming home to you two, every night. Yeah?”
You nod, again, blinking rapidly as you cough out a weak laugh, hands raising to run through his hair, “I don’t think I’m ready to see you bald,”
“That’s all you’re worried about?” Jeonghan laughs, sudden, head leaning down so his forehead knocked yours. You sniffle, arms wounding around his shoulders.
“Of course not,” You murmur, Jeonghans head tilting with a small smile, “I just…I’m just not prepared, I guess,” You scoff, pulling away to throw your hands up, “Gosh, I’m not even the one going and I’m the one crying!”
“And that’s okay,” Jeonghan soothes, hand catching one of yours to tug you back, free hand cradling your jaw so you pause, letting him press a slow kiss to your lips, “It’s okay,”
You pull back, “Does Cheol know?”
Jeonghans nod is light. “He found out the date first. Told me this morning,”
You release a slow, long breath, nodding back. “Then I better keep you to myself for the next two weeks,”
. . .
The stage is blooming with life. You’re soaked, by sweat and by the numerous bottles of water the eleven guys around you have thrown, but you’re smiling, jumping to the beat of Aju Nice
You figured you’d be exhausted- you flew in to Japan this morning from the states, a month long schedule for the filming of a small show, and only got an hour nap in before soundcheck
You blame the adrenaline, though, Mingyu coming up behind you to dump a- you’ve lost count- bottle over your head, and his giggle at your defeated stance is enough for him to run off,
Then the crowd is screaming, louder, and your eyes scan the stage in search for the source, but where you stand at the edge of the left side, fans shout, your eyes looking back to see them pointing behind you,
That’s when you turn, and there, on the bright LED screen, stands Jeonghan, dressed in a cap and a white mask, waving where the camera had found him in the nosebleeds,
You blink once, twice. You knew Jeonghan had finally came home to Korea from basic training, halfway into your month long schedule, but for him to fly to Japan to watch your groups show?
Hands grab your waist, then, and you turn on your heel to see Seungcheol, his smile wide, almost as wide as your eyes, “Surprise, sweetheart,”
“Can I go see him?” You ask without thinking, glancing over your shoulder back to the screen, “Or do I have to wait?”
“Dry off a little, first, sweetheart,” Seungcheol laughs, and you now see the towel he holds, wrapping it around you before playfully and aggressively patting you semi-dry, “There’s a guard waiting by the barricade, go,”
You take off before Seungcheol can blink, his second laugh softer as he turns, watching you rush down the steps of the stage to meet said guard, and you allow him to lead you up the long stairway to the top of the stadiums seats,
Jeonghan moves to stand up once he spots you, your hands wildly moving to pull the towel off your shoulders, “I’m soaked,” You breathe, eyes wide and shining, “I’m soaked, I’m sorry,”
“I don’t care,” Jeonghan breathes, reaching out a hand just when you lunge at him, arms around his shoulders to tug him down to your height, one of his arms wounding around your waist as the other cradles your matted hair, “Hi, honey,”
“Hi, Hannie,” You breathe against his shoulder, and you feel the base of his cap bump your own, “I’m so glad you’re here,”
“You were gone when I came back,” Jeonghan teases, squeezing your lower back, “I had to come see you,”
“‘M sorry,” You whisper, leaning back to cradle his jaw, eyes flicking across his face, “The scheduling was shit,”
“It’s okay,” Jeonghan smiles, hands squeezing your waist when you hear shouting, and you both glance out to the stage, finding yourselves on screen,
“Go, honey,” Jeonghan murmurs, “I’ll meet you guys back stage once you’re done. Go have fun,”
“Promise?” You whisper, eyes flickering back up to his, and you hear the people around you scream when Jeonghan tugs down his mask, pecking your lips,
“Promise,”
And promise he did, as forty five minutes later you’re rushing down the steps to the back stage, Jeonghan smiling wide, free of his mask, and he allows you to rush back into him, his exhale heavy as he relaxes,
“Honey, you’re acting like you love me,” He teases, softly, your scoff light as you tilt your head up,
“I do, asshole,” You tug his cap off, hand cupping the back of his neck to press a softer kiss to his lips, “Welcome home, Hannie. I’m sorry I wasn’t there,”
“Stop stressing,” Jeonghan orders, hands sliding to cradle your face with a small smile, “We’re here now, all that matters, honey,”
“Can you come back to the hotel with us?” Your question is shy, hopeful as your fingers glide over his torso to curl into his shirt, eyes watching Seungcheol move to stand next to Jeonghan,
“He gets every weekend off, sweetheart,” Seungcheol answers for the other, “So yes. He’ll be flying home with us in the morning,”
Your smile is wide, Jeonghan mindlessly pushing back pieces of wet hair from your face, “Let’s get you into dry clothes, first, yeah?”
. . .
“And then Mingyu dumped at least two water bottles on me, after Jun had already done it!”
Your voice is the only thing to be heard in the hotel room. You’re finishing up your skin care, hands animatedly moving as you speak, Jeonghan and Seungcheol both laid back on the hotel bed,
“She is aware I saw everything, right?” Jeonghans mutter causes Seungcheol to grin,
“Let her rant,” He mumbles back, just when the bathroom light clicks off, and you move towards the bed, climbing from the end until you could lay in the middle, instantly pressing yourself against Jeonghans front,
“Missed me, huh?” Jeonghan teases, lips pressing down to your damp, freshly washed hair, arm curling around your shoulders to pull you closer, “Don’t worry. I missed you, too, honey,”
Your exhale is heavy against his chest, Jeonghan can feel your arms lightly loosen from his torso, ear pressed firm to the fabric of his t-shirt,
“She’s exhausted,” Seungcheol murmurs, hand sliding to hold your hip, “Gyu wore her out with all the running and chasing,”
Jeonghan hums, head tilting to press a second kiss to your temple, then your cheek, “I love you, honey,” He coos, “We’ll be right here when you wake up,”
Hiii-!!! Ok so first thing first I want to say that I looovee ur workk <3 and I just read Byeol profile and it say that Byeol was raised by her grandparents n Ive been wondering about her relationship with the members parents/family . Can you make a chapter about it ? Maybe she have a really good relationship with her members parents, they treat her as their own Child. Oh and how about scoups and dino parents treated her and called her as their daughter because they don't have a daughter. That's it , feels free if you don't want to make this chapter n also no rushhh .Love yaaa🤍🩵
The Thirteen Parents
summary: having thirteen parents can be overwhelming but filled with warmth and love
word count: 3k+
genre: full of fluff and comfort
seventeen members x 14th member
notes: request by anon!! Thank you for the request! I apologize for the late upload, i haven’t gotten the time to properly write stuff since i got busy with uni and my internship at the hospital. hope this makes up for the lost time hehe enjoy!
If there was anything Byeol would never exchange, it was the boys of SEVENTEEN— and, without question, their parents.
Growing up, family had always felt smaller than it should have been. After losing her parents at ten, Byeol learned how to live quietly under the care of her grandparents, how to make peace with absence, how to accept that some spaces in her life would remain unfilled.
So when she first stood in that practice room during pre-debut evaluations, watching the members reunite with their families, Byeol told herself she didn’t need anything more.
So, she stayed near the corner anyway.
Hands clasped in front of her, eyes quietly observing as the room filled with laughter, familiar voices, and the kind of warmth that didn’t belong to her. Parents called out their sons’ names, pulled them into hugs, fussed over how thin they looked or how tired they seemed.
Byeol just watched the boys. She didn’t notice Choi Seungcheol approaching until he was already standing beside her.
“Why are you all the way here?” he asked, glancing at her. He was already informed that her grandparents weren’t coming at all.
“I’m fine here,” she said softly, offering a small smile.
He didn’t look convinced.
“Come on,” he said, gently nudging her arm. “You should meet them.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “No, it’s okay—”
“It’s not,” he cut in, already guiding her forward.
“Oppa…” she protested under her breath, trying to slow down, but he only held onto her wrist a little more firmly, careful but insistent.
“They’ve heard about you,” he added, like that was supposed to help. “They would really like to meet you.”
“That makes it worse,” she muttered.
He let out a small laugh. “You’ll be fine.”
Before she could come up with another excuse, they were already standing in front of his parents.
“Eomma, Appa,” Seungcheol called casually, catching both attention of his parents. “This is Byeol.”
She froze for a moment, standing still right beside him. For a split second, she considered bowing and immediately running back to the corner.
But it was too late.
Because Seungcheol’s mother had already stepped forward.
“Byeol-ah?” she said gently.
And then she crouched down slightly, meeting the girl at eye level, her expression soft in a way that made Byeol’s nerves falter. “We’ve heard so much about you from our Seungcheol.”
Byeol blinked, caught off guard by the warmth in her voice.
“A-anyeonghaseyo,” she stammered, bowing quickly.
Behind them, Seungcheol’s father smiled quietly, while nearby parents began to take notice.
“Aigoo, such a polite girl.” Mingyu’s mother chimed in, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.
“She’s even prettier from what my channie boy had said!” Lee Chan’s mother said, stepping closer with a fond smile.
And just like that, she was surrounded by a group of parents who had nothing but love for the little girl. She felt welcomed into that circle.
It was overwhelming at first— the way they spoke to her so fondly, the way they insisted, “Call me eomma,” “Call me appa,” as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Byeol didn’t know how to say it back then. But she remembered how it felt.
When their debut was announced in 2017, the parents celebrated just as much as the boys did. Some traveled just to be there, filling the room with pride and excitement that spilled over to Byeol as well. And over the years, without her even realizing when it started, the words came easier.
The worde Eomma and Appa. At some point, she had stopped getting conscious about calling them those words. She felt like it was right to call them that as they had been nothing but have paternal instincts over her.
Byeol basically had 13 parents at this point.
There were times that the boys would whine that their parents would often seen Byeol rather than their own sons.
It showed in the smallest, funniest ways. Seungcheol, being the youngest in the family, was perplexed but not surprised that his parents would rather ask how was byeol was that day rather than knowing their own son.
2018:
It was the time when Byeol had came home from school and Seungcheol was at the kitchen, having a conversation with his parents through voice call.
“Oh princess, you’re home.” Seungcheol perked up at the sight of their youngest coming through the door. Byeol smiled tiredly as she removed her shoes before going inside the dorm.
“Hello Oppa,” She said, walking over to him and planted a kiss on his right cheek, which he patted her back in return.
“How was school?” He asked, setting down his chopsticks to properly face the teen
“It was okay. I’ve got upcoming exams.” She stated.
“Oh? Is that our daughter I’m hearing?” A familiar tone of a woman coming from seungcheol’s phone. Byeol looked at it curiously before she started smiling widely
“Eommaaaa! Appaaa!” She greeted, leaning forward at the table just so she could fin in to the frame of his phone.
On the other end, Seungcheol’s parents smiled just as brightly.
“Aigooo, our baby?” His mother cooed, eyes crinkling. “How is our baby? Have you been eating well.”
“Neee,” Byeol nodded eagerly, lifting her lunchbox. “Gyu oppa made my lunch today!”
From somewhere behind her, Mingyu yelled, “Tell them I woke up early for that!”
Seungcheol’s father chuckled. “You’re taking good care of her.”
“Of course,” Mingyu shot back from afar.
Seungcheol stared at the scene in disbelief for a moment before finally scoffing. “Ya,” he cut in, pointing at himself. “I’m still your son too. Aren’t you going to check on me?”
There was a pause. His mother blinked.
“Oh, right,” she said casually. “Did you eat?”
“I’m literally eating right now!” Seungcheol whined. His father laughed. Byeol couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughter spilling out as she leaned against the table.
And Seungcheol— he just shook his head, but there was no real annoyance in his expression. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure— it was that she was just as much their daughter as he was their son.
The same case occured when Jeonghan had brought Byeol with him just to have dinner at his childhood home.
2020:
“Oppa, are you sure this is okay?” Byeol pouted as they got by at his house.
Before he could even enter the house, the front door was swung open to reveal Jeonghan’s younger sister. She evidently gasped in excited when she saw them arrive.
“You’re here,” she exclaimed. Jeonghan smiled, already opening his arms for her. Except, instead of running in to his arms, his sister just walked right past him and went straight to Byeol.
“Hahaha, unnie!” Byeol giggled, wrapping her arms around the older girl.
“Oh is that Byeol? Ah, our uri baby!” Jeonghan’s mother followed suit, immediately hugging the girl as well while her husband gave the girl a side hug too.
“You’ve gotten tall,” he commented, ruffling the girl’s hair.
“Ne appa, I grew an inch!” Byeol proudly said. The parents smiled fondly at the girl, praising her for such achievement.
Meanwhile, Jeonghan stared at the scene with an unimpressed look. “I also grew!” He fake whined.
“No, you didn’t.” His sister immediately shot back.
It happened quite often to her at times. Whenever she’s at LA, she would mostly spend most of her time eating at the Hong’s residences. Joshua would sometimes get surprised that during one of his calls to his mother, he was surprised to find out that Byeol was there in his LA house.
2021:
“Feeling at home, Byeol-ah?” Joshua jokingly stated through the phone.
“Ne! I’m Eomma’s favorite daughter now.” Byeol smiled widely, hugging Joshua’s mom from behind while placing her chin on the older woman’s shoulder to peer down at the call.
Jaimie Hong laughed softly, patting the girl’s head. “Aigooo, my sweet girl.” She said.
With Jeon Wonwoo’s family, it was always quiet, but never empty. Byeol sometimes would joke that Wonwoo and her are actually relatives due to their surnames. Byeol remembered sitting in their living room during a rainy afternoon, legs tucked under her, while Wonwoo’s mother quietly placed a blanket over her shoulders.
2019:
She didn’t say anything at first, just adjusted the fabric until it covered her properly. “Cold?” she asked her gently with a motherly gaze upon her face.
“A little,” Byeol admitted, smiling upwards at wonwoo’s mother.
From the side, Wonwoo spoke softly, almost amused. “She always says that after she’s already cold.”
His mother hummed, as if that was expected. “Really? Then I’ll make you a quilt before you go back to work,” she said, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind the girl’s ear.
The girl visibly gasped, unable to contain her excitement. “You can knit?” She gasped.
“Can you teach me how to knit? I’ve always wanted to learn how.”
And that was how Byeol ended up sitting on the floor beside her, a soft bundle of yarn placed between them like it had been waiting for this moment all along. His mother guided her hands patiently, correcting the way she held the needles, slowing her down whenever she rushed.
From the couch, Jeon Wonwoo watched the two of them in silence for a while before speaking. “You’re going to make something completely uneven.”
His mother didn’t even look up. “Then she’ll learn.”
Byeol frowned slightly, tongue poking out in concentration. “I can do it properly.”
Wonwoo raised a brow. “You said that five minutes ago.”
“I improved already,” she shot back.
His mother smiled softly, watching her try again. “That’s good. Improvement means you’re learning.”
Wonwoo leaned back, shaking his head lightly as he muttered, “She listens to you more than me.”
His mother finally glanced at him. “That’s because she trusts me.”
The room fell into a comfortable quiet again after that, broken only by the soft clicking of needles and Byeol’s occasional frustrated hums when the yarn slipped. But even then, she didn’t stop. She just tried again, a little slower this time, with Wonwoo still watching from the side like he had no choice but to stay and see how it turned out.
With Woozi’s family, care was never loud, but it was always precise. Byeol noticed it the first time she visited for a meal. There were dishes she liked without having to say it, placed neatly in front of her as if it had been decided in advance that she would need them.
2022:
“Eat this too,” his mother said, sliding another side dish closer to her.
“You’re too thin.” She softly nagged her.
“I’m not that thin,” Byeol replied, but she was already being ignored in the gentlest way possible.
Jihoon sat across from her, watching the entire scene unfold with a tired expression. “Sometimes I feel like Byeol’s more of your child.”
“Aish, what are you talking about. Both of you are my children.” his mother responded without looking at him. “Music geniuses!”
Byeol laughed quietly, eating anyway, while Jihoon sighed but there’s a deep smile on his face
There were also times that she felt unexpected loved from the parente. When Byeol was invited to become a dance teacher for the Chinese program Youth With You Season 2, which was a similar program from Produce 101. Jun and Minghao accompanied her back to their country, insisting that she should stay back and forth in their own homes instead of renting an apartment or a hotel for the duration of her stay in China
And during the duration of her stay in China, she was spoiled… very spoiled. Minghao and Jun’s parents would take her around just to see the wonders in China. She was also spoiled with tons of food. As everyone knows, both parents only had sons so they immediately adopted Byeol as their only daughter within the family. They do love to splurge money on shopping spree on Byeol even though she had the capability to buy her own stuff.
As for the language barrier, well, there was no language barriers at all! In fact, she was actually able to keep up with their conversations as to how Minghao and Jun had trained her with during their train years. Even if there were words that she wasn’t familiar with in chinese translation, the mother hens are there to teach her.
2020:
“Eommaaa,” Byeol called out, catching the attention of her two chinese mothers.
“What do you think?” She asked, posing for them with the outfit that they had chosen for her.
“Omo! It looks so pretty on you,” Minghao’s mother gushed over while Jun’s mother nodded in agreement as well.
As much as they loved the dress, their two sons however wasn’t too keen with the idea.
“Isn’t that neckline too low?” Jun stated, narrowing his eyes as he criticized the dress a bit.
“The length too, it’s too short. You know you get too cold when you’re in Korea,” Minghao somehow turned this into a lecture.
“But isn’t it pretty? I love it.” Byeol said, twirling around while smiling happily when both of her chinese mothers clapped enthusiastically at their daughter.
“I think jie jie looks very pretty!” Jun’s little brother stated, smiling widely. Byeol couldn’t help but coo at the boy’s honest comment.
“Boys, let her have some fun! It looks very pretty on her,” Jun’s mother scolded at them, only to earn grumbling responses from the boys.
At Kim Mingyu’s home, there was no such thing as subtle within the family. They could immediately notice things that she hadn’t noticed before.
2023:
“You got thinner,” his father said immediately.
Byeol blinked in surprise, “I didn’t—“ she said.
“You did,” his mother agreed, already guiding her to sit. She softly said comforting words that her daughter hasn’t been taken care really well, patting her hands in reassurance that the food that she prepared was good for her.
“Mingyu,” his father called out to his son, who sat froze on his seat. “why are you not feeding her properly?”
“I do!” Mingyu defended himself.
Byeol laughed as another portion was placed onto her plate.
“Byeol-ah, eat more so that you’ll grow big,” his mother insisted, letting her husband lecture their son.
“Ne Eomma,” Byeol grinned before diving into her food.
As for the Lee Seokmin’s family, everything felt brighter. It was like she was surrounded by a sun. It was during Chuseok Holiday when Byeol was invited to spend the holiday with the family. Knowing that his parents wanted to see their other daughter, she just nodded in agreement.
2024:
“Wait, wait!” his mother said suddenly. Before Byeol could ask why, a camera clicked.
Seokmin groaned. “You didn’t even warn us!”
His father leaned over, checking the photo. “It’s good.”
“Of course it is,” his mother said proudly. “Our Byeol-ah looks pretty.”
“How about me?” Seokmin asked, pointing to himself with an expectant look on his face.
“Eh, it could’ve been better.” His mother shrugged. DK looked at his mother with mouth wide open in shock, while while older sister snorted and patted his back sympathetically.
“Don’t compete with our dongsaeng or else you’ll just break your heart.”
There were other times that Byeol was at Jeju with Seungkwan, visiting his family. In there, she was surprised and amazed with how much Jeju could offer from the scenery, foods, and culture. Needless to say, she gained a little bit of weight during her one week duration stay with them.
She couldn’t help it. If anything, Byeol was like a food vacuum machine that kept on inhaling the food. She also has complete stock of tangerines deliver by Seungkwan’s father.
2022:
“Eat slowly,” his mother reminded her gently.
“I will, eomma.” Byeol said as she chew onto her food. She gave the older woman a thumbs up, “You always have the best meals.”
“You always say that.” She softly nagged, patting the girl’s shoulder.
From across the table, Seungkwan frowned. “She listens to you more.” He snorted.
“That’s because she doesn’t argue unlike someone.” His older sister side commented, snickering quietly.
“I don’t argue!”Seungkwan squawked. Byeol stuck out her tongue at Seungkwan, shaking her head as she took another bite.
And when Byeol was with Vernon, there is a 100% chance that she would be around his family as well. His parents absolutely adored Byeol, treating her like she was one of their own. With Byeol being a foreigner too and is considered to be Wasian, she coulr honestly relate to this family more than the others.
Sofia, his younger sister, absolutely adored Byeol. She aspired to be her one day despite the three year gap between them with Byeol being the oldest.
Byeol was mostly surrounded by boys, so it was a sigh of relief whenever she’s around with seventeen’s sisters or sofia.
However, not all people liked the idea of. He despised the concept of Sofia and Byeol being in one room. They were like a mischievous duo that kept on doing unworldly but funny things just to bother him
2021:
“Kidney function, is not a right. It’s a…?” Byeol said, holding out a imaginary mic towards Sofia, who grinned.
“It’s a privilege,” The two girls snickered to themselves while Vernon let out s groaning sound.
“Will you quit with that line.” Vernon mumbled.
“Byeol-ah, your mom’s making your favorite strawberry cake.” Vernon’s dad announced, popping his through the kitchen doorway
Byeol gasped loudly, “really?!” She said. “I love you Vernonie’s eomma!”
“Spoiled,” Vernon joked, earning a slap from Byeol.
And when Byeol was with Dino’s parents, it was like Dino and Byeol twins that were separated from birth. Knowing that Byeol was also a great dancer, it was like the dancers in the family were finally complete.
2025:
“Again, again!” his mother clapped from the side of the living room, completely invested.
“Eomma, we just danced,” Chan groaned, hands on his hips, already tired from the constant dance request from both of his parents.
“And? One more time!”
Byeol laughed beside him, slightly out of breath but already stepping back into position. “It’s okay, oppa. Last one.”
Dino deadpanned at the girl, “That’s what you said three times ago.”
His father stood nearby, arms crossed but smiling proudly as he watched the two of them. “You move the same,” he pointed out suddenly.
Both of them paused.
“What?” Chan frowned.
“You and Byeol,” he continued, gesturing between them. “The way you hit the beats. It’s similar.”
Byeol blinked, glancing at Chan, who looked at her too. Then, their faces cracked into smiles.
“No wonder you’re my favorite partner,” he said, nudging her shoulder.
“Ya!” she laughed, pushing him back lightly.
From the couch, his mother gasped dramatically. “See? I told you. If we had a daughter, she would be exactly like this.”
“Eomma…” Chan dragged out, already embarrassed.
But she only smiled wider, looking between the two of them like she was seeing something she had been waiting for.
“I’m changing my last name to Lee now,” Byeol laughed, posing like a rapper, grinning when they all laughed at her.
And maybe that was it. It was never about one big moment or a single realization. It was a collection of small things that slowly built something real. Shared meals at crowded tables, warm greetings the moment she stepped through the door, laughter that came easily without her forcing it, and voices that called her “our daughter” as if there had never been any doubt.
Somewhere along the way, Byeol stopped feeling like someone who was simply included. She became someone who was expected, someone whose presence was noticed when she was gone and welcomed the moment she returned. She found herself with a place waiting for her, not just beside the boys, but within the families that raised them. And for the first time in a long time, Byeol did not feel like she had lost a family. She felt like she had found one again.
synopsis: SEVENTEEN’s Luna and Jeonghan put their relationship to the test as they answer how well they really know each other in the Couple Quiz by GQ.
wc: 7.3k
backstreet’s back alright~ what could this possibly be about ?? it’s jeongna’s first public couple interview, but why now ? why are they both in white ? why now that jeonghan is almost finished with his service ? why not after he finishes ? why are jeongna everywhere ? what are they preparing us for ? . . . the wedding of the century perhaps ?!
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ more interviews
The set was simple, it made everything else stand out more, a clean space with soft lighting that rested gently over them without being harsh, and in the middle of it Luna and Jeonghan sat across from each other dressed in white, the color making them look even softer against the background, like they had been placed there on purpose to contrast yet match at the same time.
They were both holding small cards in their hands, their fingers lightly gripping the edges as if they already knew what was coming but were still curious about how it would unfold. They both smiled at the camera at the same time, not rehearsed, just natural.
Luna leaned forward just slightly as she spoke first, her voice calm but bright. “Hi, GQ. I'm Luna.”
Jeonghan followed right after, his tone just as steady, his eyes still lingering on her for a second longer before shifting forward. “I'm Jeonghan.”
“And today we'll be taking the Couples Quiz.” Luna finished, her voice carried a small hint of amusement, like she already knew how this would go, and when she finished she turned her head toward him, catching him already looking at her, his gaze steady and unreadable but familiar in a way that made her lips curl just a little more.
“Who's going first?” Luna asked.
Jeonghan did not answer with words, he simply lifted his arm and stretched it out toward her, his hand forming a loose fist.
Luna let out a small breath of laughter before mirroring him, her arm extending forward until their hands hovered close, the space between them filled with something light and playful.
They both lifted their hands up and down in rhythm, the movement small but in sync.
“Rock, Papers, Scissors... shoot,” Luna muttered softly.
Their hands snapped into place at the same time, and when the shapes settled it was her scissors against his paper, a clean win, and Luna’s smile widened just a little as she pulled her hand back.
“Okay. I'll go first.”
She said it like she expected to, like she had already prepared herself for this moment, and she began flipping through the cards in her hand, her eyes scanning the questions briefly before she paused and looked back up at him, her expression shifting into something teasing.
“Ready? You'll have to get all of these right or I'll be very upset.”
Jeonghan leaned back into his seat, his posture relaxing as if the warning did nothing to shake him, and he gave a small nod, a quiet hum leaving him that carried confidence more than anything else, like he had already accepted the challenge without thinking twice.
Luna watched him for a second before she let out a soft giggle, her fingers adjusting the card before she read the first question aloud. “What was I wearing when you first saw me?” She lifted her gaze again immediately, her finger pointing at him to make sure he understood exactly what she meant. “When you first saw me. Not when you first spoke to me.”
Jeonghan nodded once, his expression barely changing as he answered without hesitation. “You were wearing a black shirt and black jeans, and you had red Converses on. You were wearing a black zip up sweater over it.” He paused just slightly, like he was looking at the memory again instead of just recalling it.
“You wore black a lot when we were trainees. That was one of the reasons you stood out to everyone.” His eyes shifted to her then, softer. “But you stood out to me because you were really pretty.”
For a moment Luna did not say anything, her smile already there but her cheeks slowly turning red as she nodded, her gaze dropping briefly before she looked back up.
“That's right, I had an emo phase.” She said it lightly, brushing it off even if the reaction lingered on her face, and she quickly moved on, flipping to the next card as if to hide it.
“What is something about me that people get completely wrong?”
Jeonghan answered just as easily, his tone calm. “It used to bother you how people thought you were rude because of how you look.”
Luna nodded immediately, not even letting him finish fully. “I have a resting bitch face.”
There was no hesitation in the way she said it, and Jeonghan let out a small breath of amusement before continuing, his voice steady. “People tend to have that as their first impression of you, that you're rude or a snob, but you're not.”
Luna watched him for a second before nodding again. “Correct.” She said before glancing down at her cards, her energy picking up again as she flipped to the next one. “Next question! What is my go-to order when I'm hungry and don't want to think of what to order?”
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, thinking for a second, not because he did not know but because he was choosing how to answer.
“Go to order? It depends on your mood…” He started slowly. “You normally go for something spicy. If you're feeling something Korean it's Jjamppong. If you're feeling Western it's pizza.”
Luna’s smile returned immediately, a little more playful this time. “What kind of pizza?” She asked it like a test, like she already knew he would get it right but wanted to see him say it anyway.
“Pepperoni pizza with stuffed crust.”
“That's correct.” Luna chuckled, clearly pleased.
Jeonghan turned his head toward the camera slightly, shifting just enough to include the viewers. “She dislikes pizza crusts and won’t eat them unless it’s stuffed.”
Luna nodded right away, her expression serious for a second as if defending herself. “I don’t like plain crust, it’s too dry, so if it’s stuffed I’ll eat it.”
She then glanced back at her card, her fingers tapping lightly against it before she read the next question “What is something I do when I'm shy or flustered? She lifted her gaze again, watching him closely. “You have to be very specific.”
Jeonghan’s lips curved slightly, like he already knew exactly what she was referring to, and he leaned forward just a bit this time as he answered. “You tuck your hair behind your ear even if it’s already tucked, your voice gets quieter without you noticing, and you blink a lot as if you’re trying to hide in your eyelids.”
Luna blinked at him, her lips parting just slightly before she let out a small laugh, her hand instinctively moving up to her hair before she caught herself halfway.
“I didn’t even know about the blinking thing…” Luna raised her eyebrow at him.
Jeonghan nodded. “You blink a lot when you’re flustered.”
Luna shook her head lightly, still smiling, and moved on. “You got all those right, I guess.” She flipped the card. “What is my most used phrase or reaction when I'm annoyed?”
Before she could even look up properly, Jeonghan was already reacting, his face shifting as he mimicked her, his eyes rolling slightly before he spoke in a tone that was clearly hers. “Yoon Jeonghan!”
Luna immediately turned toward the camera, laughing under her breath, her shoulders shaking just a little. “That's my most used reaction when I'm annoyed because he annoys me the most.”
Jeonghan muttered quietly under his breath, just loud enough to be heard. “It's because I like hearing you say my name like that.”
Luna let out another laugh at that, her eyes briefly closing as she shook her head. Her gaze back went to the cards in her hand, her fingers sliding one forward as her smile settled into something more focused, though the softness from before still lingered in the way her lips curved, and without looking up right away she read the next question.
“What did I want to be when I was younger?”
She finally lifted her eyes to him, watching him carefully, and Jeonghan did not take long to answer, his voice steady like he had gone over this before in his head without realizing it.
“You first wanted to be a prima ballerina. Then you wanted to be a psychologist at some point before you wanted to be an idol.”
Luna’s expression shifted almost immediately, her smile widening just a little as she nodded. “Correct!”
Jeonghan leaned back just slightly, his gaze still on her as he added without hesitation. “You achieved the first two dreams in some shape or form.”
For a brief second Luna did not speak, her smile softening as her eyes dropped for a moment before she nodded again, slower this time. “I did.”
There was a small pause, not uncomfortable, just enough for the weight of that to sit, before Jeonghan spoke again, his voice just as calm but softer.
“You're amazing.”
Luna looked back up at him, the compliment landing without surprise.
“Thank you.” She said, shifting in her seat slightly, as if brushing off the moment before it could linger too long, her fingers already moving to the next card.
“Next question… What is my biggest pet peeve?”
Jeonghan leaned forward this time, his elbows coming closer to his knees as he looked at her, his lips already curving with a hint of mischief. “How much time to we have?” He teased, and Luna immediately let out a laugh, shaking her head as if she already knew what was coming.
He did not stop there, his tone turning into something more animated as he went on. “You have a few, but your biggest pet peeve is when someone doesn't close the door after opening it.”
The moment he said it Luna physically reacted, her shoulders lifting slightly as she cringed, her expression tightening before she straightened up in her seat almost instinctively, like she had been waiting for an excuse to say this out loud.
“It doesn’t make sense to me when people open a door, enter, and leave it wide open as if they have a long tail trailing behind them.” She paused only to breathe before continuing, her brows pulling together. “It’s not hard to shut the door afterwards. It’s so annoying. I don’t know why, but it genuinely gets me heated.”
As she spoke Jeonghan slowly turned his head toward the camera, nodding once, his expression calm but knowing, like he had seen this exact reaction too many times before.
“You also hate people who are rude, people who lack common sense, people who walk slow, people who chew loudly… you hate being woken up by turning the lights on. You also hate when someone goes 'Tch'." He shifted slightly before continuing, adding more with the same ease.
Luna was already nodding before he even finished, her lips pressing together in agreement, and from behind the camera a voice from the producer cut in. “Why do you hate when people go 'Tch'?”
Luna turned toward the direction of the voice, her expression thoughtful for a second before she answered. “I don’t know why, but usually people make that sound when they are worrying about something or frustrated about something.” She tilted her head slightly as she continued, trying to explain it clearly. “And I feel like it’s annoying because it’s like they’re making it known they’re annoyed but won’t say anything… they just want you to know they’re annoyed. Does that make sense?”
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle under his breath, shaking his head slightly as he looked at her. “You're so passionate.”
Luna let out a quiet breath of laughter, nodding like she was aware of it herself. “I know.” She answered before quickly moving on, flipping the card again.
“Anyway, next question. What is my ideal day off?”
Jeonghan did not even need a second for that one. “Staying at home doing nothing.”
“Yup. I don't get to do that often, so whenever I can I just rot in bed.” Luna elaborated with a nod, and without lingering she moved to the next question, her eyes lighting up just a little as she read it.
“Next question... ooh this one is good—What is my favorite nickname from you?”
Jeonghan paused this time, actually thinking, his eyes drifting for a second as if sorting through options.
“You call me a lot of nicknames.” Luna said, watching him closely.
Jeonghan hummed before answering, “My moon.”
Luna’s smile returned immediately, softer this time, and she nodded. “That is my favorite, but it has to be a complete answer.”
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright, my pretty moon.”
Luna giggled, she turned her head toward the camera for a second, giving a quick wink before looking back down at her cards.
“Ooh, this one is... okay,” She said before reading the next question out loud, her tone shifting just slightly. “When did I realize that I liked you more than a friend?”
Jeonghan snickered almost immediately, not even pretending to think. “That's a trick question because you always liked me more than a friend.”
Luna tried to keep her composure but it showed, the way her lips pressed together as she held back a laugh, her cheeks warming as she avoided looking at him, her eyes dropping down to the next card instead.
“You're one to talk.” She muttered under her breath, and Jeonghan only shrugged in response, a small smirk settling on his lips as he watched her.
“Moving on...” Luna said quickly, clearing her throat slightly as she continued. “What is something I always steal from you?”
“My clothes.” Jeonghan answered right away.
“You have to be specific.”
“Hoodies,” He said. “Specifically the oversized yellow hoodie.”
“That's right. It's technically mine at this point.” Luna said, lifting her chin slightly as if claiming it fully.
“What's mine is yours. It doesn't matter.” Jeonghan did not look away from her as he responded.
Luna held his gaze for just a second before she looked back down at her cards again. “How many tattoos do I have?” She asked. “Bonus points if you can name what they all are.”
Jeonghan straightened up in his seat this time, his eyes scanning over her instinctively as if the answer was written there, and he let out a quiet breath.
“Give me second...”
Luna nodded, watching him as he went quiet, his gaze moving carefully all over her body as he counted on his fingers one by one, his focus clear.
“You have seven.” He started, then continued without rushing. “The number ‘17’ on the side of your right wrist, a crescent moon on the left side of your wrist, a small letter ‘J’ inside your left ring finger, a bow at the back of your right hand, the word 'eventually' in between your right middle finger, one on your right side by your ribcage that says 'lady of the moon' and one on the back of your neck that says 'lovebug'."
Luna broke into a smile before she even spoke, her hands coming together in a small clap. “Correct.” She said, her tone bright as she nodded at him. “That was really good.” She added, clearly impressed.
Jeonghan leaned back again, satisfied but not surprised.
Luna flipped to the next card without wasting time. “What is something I do when I'm jealous?”
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle at that, his head tilting slightly. “You rarely get jealous.”
“That's true. But what do I do when I am?” Luna pressed, watching him carefully.
“You either ignore me completely or don't leave my side. There's no in between.” He answered confidently.
Before Luna could respond the producer’s voice came in again from behind the camera. “What situation do you ignore him versus not leaving his side?”
“It depends.” Luna and Jeonghan said in unison, their voices overlapping perfectly.
Luna let out a soft laugh right after, shaking her head slightly as the moment settled between them. She then lifted the next card, her fingers lightly tapping against the edge as she glanced down for a brief second before looking back up at him, her expression already hinting that she expected him to get this right without effort.
“What irrational fear do I have?” She asked, “This is really easy.”
There was a small lift of her brow, almost challenging, but the softness in her eyes gave her away, he knows this, he always does.
Jeonghan nodded immediately, not even needing a second to think as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow against his knee while counting off in a calm and steady tone.
“You’re scared of spiders,” he began, his voice even as if he were reciting something he had gone over many times before, “you’re claustrophobic, you hate throwing up, you’re scared of the dark because in extension you are scared of going blind,” he continued, his lips pressing together briefly as he recalled the rest, “and you’re scared of the deep sea.” He finished without hesitation, his gaze fixed on her as if confirming each one as he said it.
Luna nodded along as he spoke, her lips curling into a small smile that grew wider with each correct answer before she let out a quiet hum of agreement. “Other than those things, I’m scared of nothing else irrational,” she said.
She shifted slightly in her seat, the card in her hand flipping to the next one as her eyes skimmed over it before she read it aloud. “What movies or shows do I enjoy watching?” Luna asked Jeonghan as she watched him expectantly.
Jeonghan let out a soft breath, tilting his head as if organizing his thoughts before answering. “You watch a lot of animated shows and movies,” he started, his tone thoughtful but confident, “you prefer comedy over dramas, and you have a weird obsession with documentaries, especially crime documentaries.” He finished, glancing at her with a faint smile as if already knowing he had it right.
Luna smiled at that, her shoulders relaxing as she nodded. “I love a good documentary,” she said, her voice soft with a hint of fondness.
“She was sobbing over an animal documentary a few weeks ago,” Jeonghan said to the camera, his tone calm but carrying a quiet amusement as he turned his head slightly.
“I was,” Luna admitted without hesitation, her lips pressing together briefly before she let out a small breath of a laugh, “they’re unnecessarily sad.”
Without lingering too long, she moved on, flipping to the next card with practiced ease. “What kind of pets did I have growing up?”
Jeonghan answered just as quickly. “You used to have a lot of childhood pets, but you didn’t have anything with fur because your mom is allergic,” he said before continuing without pause, “you had two goldfishes, two angelfishes, two janitor fishes, two turtles, and two hermit crabs.”
Luna’s face lit up at that, her smile widening as she leaned back slightly. “I’m so happy you remember,” she said.
“Of course,” Jeonghan hummed softly, his lips curving into a small smile as he looked at her.
Luna tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes as she added, “I’ll give you bonus points if you can tell me why I had two of each.”
“It’s because you didn’t want them to get lonely,” Jeonghan said with a small smirk, his answer coming easily before he turned his head toward the camera, his expression softening into something more amused, “Isn’t she so cute?”
Luna let out a quiet laugh at that, shaking her head slightly as she looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “You’re such a smooth talker,” she said, her tone teasing but not denying it.
She moved on quickly after that, her fingers tightening slightly around the last card as she glanced down at it. “This is the last question,” Luna said, her voice carrying a small hint of anticipation, “Out of all the gifts you have given me, what’s my favorite one?”
Jeonghan paused this time, his brows drawing together slightly as he thought, his gaze dropping for a second before lifting back up to her. “It’s either Bugs or that ring on your finger,” he said after a few seconds, his tone measured but sure.
Luna nodded almost immediately, her smile softening as she looked at him. “Those are my two favorites,” she confirmed, her voice quieter this time.
There was a brief moment where she simply looked at him, her expression filled with something warm before she let out a small laugh, shaking her head lightly. “You got all of the questions correct,” Luna said, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and admiration.
Jeonghan nodded once, leaning back slightly as a small, confident smile settled on his face. “Of course I got a perfect score,” he said, his tone playful but assured, “I’m just that good.” His eyes flickered toward her, the corner of his lips lifting a little more. “You have to get a perfect score as well now.”
He reached for his cards then, picking them up with ease as Luna straightened in her seat, her posture shifting into something more focused as she prepared herself. There was a small spark of determination in her eyes as she looked at him, ready.
“Bet,” Luna said, her voice certain, as she waited for the first question.
“Okay, first question...” Jeonghan said, scanning through his cards before continuing, “What is something I do when I want your attention?”
Luna did not even take a second to think, her answer coming out immediately as if it had been waiting. “Be extra annoying.” She said it so plainly that it made the crew behind the camera let out a quiet laugh, her tone carrying a certainty that came from experience.
Jeonghan’s lips curved into a slow smirk, his head tilting slightly as he leaned forward just a little, clearly enjoying this. “In what way?” Jeonghan smirked, asking her to elaborate, his eyes fixed on her as if he already knew what she was about to say and wanted to hear it anyway.
Luna exhaled softly through her nose, already amused as she glanced at the camera before looking back at him.
“Remember the door closing thing I mentioned earlier?” Luna looked at the camera, her brows lifting slightly as if pulling them into the moment, “That. He leaves the door open knowing it will get my attention.” Her voice held a mix of disbelief and familiarity, like it was something she had accepted long ago.
Jeonghan let out a quiet chuckle at that, his shoulders lifting slightly as he nodded, not even trying to deny it. There was something satisfied in the way he reacted, like he took pride in how well he annoyed her.
He moved on smoothly, his eyes dropping back to the card as he read the next one. “When and where was our first kiss?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze flickering up to her with quiet interest.
Luna’s reaction was immediate, her expression shifting as a faint blush crept up her cheeks, her lips parting slightly before she let out a small breath of a laugh. “I wasn't expecting that question.” She said it softly, almost to herself, her fingers tightening slightly around her own cards as she tried to gather her thoughts.
Jeonghan raised a brow at her, watching her closely. “You don't remember?” he asked, his tone light but carrying a hint of teasing that only made her more aware of his attention.
“I do...” Luna said, her voice quieter now as she shook her head slightly as if clearing it, “It was in your car on the drive home from Wonwoo's birthday six years ago.” Her voice steadied as she spoke, her eyes lifting to meet his again.
Jeonghan’s expression softened at that, a small smile forming on his lips as he watched her. “You remember everything, don't you?” he teased gently, his tone low and amused.
“Yes! Next question!” Luna waved him off quickly, her hand making a small dismissive motion as she avoided holding his gaze for too long, already knowing the look he was giving her.
There was a quiet glint in Jeonghan’s eyes as he watched her for a moment longer before moving on, flipping to the next card. “What was the first thing I ever said to you when we first met?” He asked.
Luna’s expression softened instantly, her smile turning fond as the memory settled in her mind.
“You introduced yourself to me, asked me my name, welcomed me, and then told me if I needed anything that I could tell you.” She answered with a smile, her voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the air. “You kept me company the entire time, making me laugh because you said I looked like I needed a laugh.”
Jeonghan watched her as she spoke, something softer settling in his expression before he nodded. “Correct. Good job.”
“Next question… Oh—Who is my celebrity crush?” There was already a smirk on his face as he asked it, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement.
Luna let out a small breath of a laugh, her lips curving as she tilted her head. “If it's not me then I don't want to hear the correct answer.” Luna joked, her tone light but her eyes watching him carefully.
“That's too bad because it's actually—” Jeonghan started teasing, his voice stretching the words just enough to make her react.
Before he could finish, Luna leaned forward and playfully poked him with the pointy end of her shoe, her expression warning but amused as he broke into laughter.
“I'm joking.” He said quickly, his laughter soft but genuine.
“I know... you're obsessed with me.” Luna said nonchalantly, her tone steady as if it were a simple fact.
Jeonghan’s smile deepened at that, his eyes lingering on her. “You get a point for that.” He said, winking at her before shifting his attention back to the cards.
“Next question...” he continued, his voice smooth as he read, “Where did we go on our first date?”
“The zoo.” Luna answered immediately, her lips curving as she leaned back slightly. “Because you said if I got bored, at least the animals would be entertaining enough to save the date.” She added, her tone carrying a hint of teasing as she looked at him.
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “That was a good reason.” He said, his voice light.
“It was a very you reason.” Luna replied, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement.
“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, his brows lifting.
“It did.” Luna admitted, her smile softening as she looked at him.
Jeonghan nodded once, satisfied. “Another point for you.” he said before moving on without missing a beat. “What was I wearing when we first met? These are easy questions.”
Luna smiled back, her answer immediate. “A neon green shirt with your name written on it, the shirt they made the trainees wear.”
“Correct!” Jeonghan said, his tone bright with approval as he flipped to the next card, “What's my routine before I go to sleep?”
“Nowadays? Or before you started your service?” Luna asked, her brows pulling together slightly as she needed the clarification.
“Nowadays.” Jeonghan answered simply.
Luna straightened in her seat slightly, her expression focused as she answered, “Once you get home from work you immediately shower, then you eat dinner if you feel like it which is most of the time, then you lay in bed scrolling on your phone or we watch a movie we’ll never finish, then you brush your teeth, and go to bed and sleep.” Her voice was steady, each step coming naturally as she listed them out.
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “You're missing one step.” He said it casually, but there was something in his tone that made it clear he had been waiting to say it.
Luna frowned slightly, her brows furrowing as she replayed her answer in her head. “No I didn't.” She said, her voice firm as she looked at him.
“You did.” Jeonghan smirked at her, clearly enjoying this.
“I didn't. What did I miss?” she asked, leaning forward slightly now, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Jeonghan’s smile turned more smug as he answered, “Before I go to sleep, I kiss you first. You missed the most important step.”
Luna let out a small laugh in disbelief, her head tilting back slightly before she rolled her eyes playfully, her lips still curved as she turned her head toward the camera. “He is doing too much because he knows this interview is relationship centered.” She said it with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation, her tone giving him away completely.
Jeonghan chuckled softly at her reaction, clearly pleased with himself. “You'll get a point for that anyway because I'm generous.” he said as he leaned back slightly.
“I get a point because I was right!” Luna retorted immediately, her voice quick as she looked at him, not letting him have the last word.
Jeonghan did not waste any time as he lifted the next card, his fingers sliding it forward with ease as his eyes scanned the question before he read it aloud. “What's my zodiac sign?”
“Libra.” Luna answered without hesitation. She did not even pause before adding, a small smile forming on her lips as she tilted her head slightly, “That's easy... what's my zodiac sign?”
Jeonghan’s lips curved immediately, his eyes glinting with mischief as he answered without missing a beat. “Intj.”
Luna’s reaction was instant as she reached over and smacked his arm, her brows pulling together in disbelief while her lips parted in protest. “Ya! That's correct and wrong at the same time.” she said, her tone caught between amused and mildly offended.
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh, clearly pleased with himself before answering properly this time, his voice softer as he looked at her. “You're an Aquarius, baby.”
“Mm hmm.” she said, nodding as she settled back slightly, accepting the answer with a small satisfied hum.
He flipped to the next card, his fingers tapping lightly against it before reading, “What's something that you weren't expecting to love about me?”
Luna let out a soft chuckle at that, her eyes briefly dropping before lifting again as she answered, her voice carrying a quiet honesty. “That you’re annoying.” She said it plainly, but there was warmth in the way she spoke. “Normally that would obviously annoy me with other people,” she continued, her lips curving into a small smile as she looked at him, “but it’s one of the traits I love the most about you.”
Jeonghan watched her as she spoke, his expression softening just slightly before shifting into something more playful again. “So you’re saying I’m special?” he asked.
“You’re saying that, not me.” Luna replied immediately, though the smile on her face betrayed her words.
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, studying her for a brief moment before nodding as if accepting her answer anyway. “Sure, sure. I’ll take that.”
He moved on, flipping the card with practiced ease as he read the next question. “What are your nicknames for me? You also have a lot.”
“Jeonghannie, Hannie, Han, Jeongie, and Angel Boy.” Luna answered confidently, her voice steady as she listed them off without missing one.
Jeonghan’s lips curled into another smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “Don't forget...” he said, lifting the cards up to cover his mouth from the camera as he mouthed something to her.
Luna frowned slightly, her brows knitting together as she leaned forward, trying to catch what he was saying. “Huh?” she said, her voice filled with confusion.
Jeonghan mouthed something again.
She squinted slightly, trying to read his lips again, still not getting it. “What?”
Without warning, Jeonghan hooked his foot around the leg of her chair and pulled her closer, the movement smooth as it caught her off guard.
Luna’s eyes widened in surprise as she was pulled toward him, her body shifting forward before he leaned in and whispered something quietly into her ear.
Her eyes went even wider before she pulled back and smacked him, her hand landing against his arm as he threw his head back and laughed, the sound full and unrestrained.
“You're so annoying. Read the next question.” she told him, her voice trying to sound firm but the slight shake of her head and the lingering smile on her lips gave her away.
Jeonghan gathered himself, clearing his throat lightly as he looked back down at the cards, though the grin had not fully left his face. “What's my favorite Lego set I built?” he read.
Luna’s expression brightened instantly, her eyes lighting up as she let out a small gasp. “You really enjoyed the Ferrari set,” she said, her voice animated as she leaned forward slightly, “and the Bowser one we built together.”
Jeonghan nodded at that, his expression softening again. “The cars are my favorite ones,” he said, his tone calm as he confirmed it, “but yeah, the recent one we built... Bowser is my new favorite.”
Luna nodded, her smile lingering as she turned her head toward the camera. “We both have a Lego addiction,” she said.
“What’s your favorite set you’ve built?” the producer asked from behind the camera.
Luna turned back slightly, her expression thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Hannie bought me the Hogwarts Castle that had like six-thousand something pieces. We spent three whole days building it together.” Her voice softened slightly at the memory, her eyes flickering toward him.
Jeonghan watched her as she spoke, his gaze steady and fond, the corner of his lips lifting just slightly.
Luna continued, her hands moving slightly as she spoke, more animated now. “It’s the biggest Lego set we have,” she said, her tone filled with a quiet pride, “and it was one of the reasons we bought a bigger house.” She let out a small laugh at that, shaking her head slightly. “Now we have an entire separate room filled with just our Legos.”
Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, nodding in agreement. “It got out of control.”
“You encourage it.” Luna shot back immediately, her brows lifting as she looked at him.
“That goes both ways. I encourage you, you encourage me.” he replied just as quickly.
“We’re bad for each other.” she said, teasing.
“Absolutely terrible.” Jeonghan winked at her, playing along.
He moved on to read the next question, “What is something I cannot leave the house without?”
“Phone, wallet, earphones... and your emotional support item.” She answered with confidence, her eyes flickering toward him as if waiting for his reaction.
Jeonghan’s face immediately broke into a grin, his head dipping in a small nod as he looked at her. “Correct!” he said as he flipped to the next card between his fingers. “This is another easy one. What is my favorite season of the year?”
Luna let out a soft breath of a laugh, her shoulders relaxing as she answered, “That's easy! We like the opposite sides of the season. I like spring and you like autumn.”
Jeonghan smiled at that as he nodded. “That's right. Good job.” His voice softened slightly as he said it, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer than needed.
Luna turned her head toward the camera then, her lips curving into a small smile as she added, “Basically we like it when it's not too hot and not too cold.”
Jeonghan let out a quiet chuckle at that, shaking his head slightly before looking back down at the cards, already moving on. “What were we doing when I proposed to you? Bonus points if you remember where it was.”
The moment the question left his lips, Luna’s expression shifted, her eyes dropping for a brief second as a faint blush crept up her cheeks, her fingers tightening slightly around her own cards. She took a small breath before answering, her voice softer now. “We were skipping rocks on the lake at a park in Berlin.”
Jeonghan looked at her with a small smile, his eyes soft as he nodded. “That’s correct.” His voice carried a quiet satisfaction, but there was something gentler underneath it. “You even got the bonus.” He added, his tone teasing lightly.
Luna let out a small laugh, shaking her head slightly as she looked at him. “Of course I did.”
There was a quiet confidence in her voice, but her cheeks were still faintly flushed.
Jeonghan glanced back down at the cards, though there was a hint of mischief returning to his expression as he asked her another question. “Is it true that you passed out when I proposed to you?”
Luna’s head snapped up at that, her eyes immediately narrowing as she caught the look on his face, disbelief written all over hers before it turned into a laugh. “That's not a question! Don't lie!” she said, her voice quick as she reached out instinctively to grab his cards, her hand brushing against his as he pulled them slightly out of reach, laughing.
“I didn't pass out...” Luna pointed at the camera as she clarified, her brows lifting as if addressing the viewers directly while Jeonghan continued chuckling beside her. “Almost, but I didn't.” she added, her tone firm but still laced with amusement.
There was a brief pause before the producer’s voice came from behind the camera, clear and amused. “You both got perfect scores.”
Luna’s eyes widened slightly before she turned toward Jeonghan, a bright smile breaking across her face as she lifted both her hands toward him. He mirrored her instantly, and they met in the middle with a double high five, both hands connecting at once with a soft clap.
“Good job.” Jeonghan said, his voice warm as he looked at her, his smile lingering.
“You too.” Luna replied.
“Can we end it with a kiss?” the producer asked, his tone teasing.
Luna and Jeonghan both turned to look at each other at the same time, a brief moment of shared understanding passing between them before Jeonghan reached out, his hand coming up to cup the side of her neck gently. He leaned in without hesitation and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.
Luna smiled at that instantly, her eyes crinkling slightly as she let out a small breath of a laugh.
“On the lips.” the producer teased, chuckling from behind the camera.
Luna shook her head lightly, still smiling as she glanced toward the camera. “He knows better not to kiss me when I have lipstick on.” she said, her tone amused.
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh beside her, nodding in agreement. “She'll tear my head off if I ruin her lipstick.” he said, his voice light as Luna lifted her hand and gave a small wave toward the camera.
The moment lingered for just a second longer before it naturally faded, the two of them still smiling as the scene came to an end.
comments...
@/caratwonwoo • 17 hours ago ╰ SURPRISE DROP??? HELLO??? I OPENED YOUTUBE HALF ASLEEP AND GOT HIT WITH JEONGNA COUPLES QUIZ I AM NOT OKAY 😭😭 this is their FIRST OFFICIAL INTERVIEW AS A COUPLE and they just sat there in white looking like a wedding photoshoot like what do you MEAN?!
@/hanieloveclub • 17 hours ago ╰ when she said “When do I realized I liked you more than a friend?” and he just looked at her like that… and said ““That's a trick question because you always liked me more than a friend.” i’m actually unwell.
@/seokminsmiles • 16 hours ago ╰ the way he listed EVERYTHING she was wearing the first time he saw her down to the red converses??? sir that is not memory that is DEVOTION 😫 we’re not even a minute in!
@/cheolsversion • 15 hours ago ╰ “Yoon Jeonghan!” PLEASEEE the way he mimicked her and then admitted he likes hearing her say his name like that… i need to lie down
@/junhuicat • 14 hours ago ╰ 05:37 JIYEON’S RANT ABOUT THE DOOR NOT BEING CLOSED AND HIM NODDING AT THE CAMERA LIKE “see” IM CRYING they are literally married behavior already 😭
@/minghaosart • 13 hours ago ╰ not him casually saying she achieved all her dreams and calling her amazing and she just softly goes “I did.” like ??? THE INTIMACY ???
@/vernonfilmz • 10 hours ago ╰ 09:30 WHEN HE SAID HE KISSES HER BEFORE SLEEP AND SHE MISSED THAT STEP… the way she rolled her eyes but smiled?? yeah they’re SICK for this 🫠
@/hoshihoranghae • 10 hours ago ╰ “What's mine is yours. It doesn't matter.” JESUS FUCK YOON JEONGHAN WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?!
@/dkenergy • 8 hours ago ╰ “My moon… my pretty moon.” i’m done. pack it up. nobody talk to me ever again. he really looked at her like she hung the damn sky.
@/baebylunalover • 7 hours ago ╰ i don’t know who needs to hear this but LUNA IS SO PRETTY IT’S ILLEGAL. the way Jeonghan kept staring at her like she’s the only person in the room… chemistry is felt THROUGH THE SCREEN! i swear i felt like i was intruding on a date! This interview is TOO intimate 😭
@/jeonghanshalo • 6 hours ago ╰ i blinked and suddenly they’re talking about their FIRST KISS IN HIS CAR??? on the drive home??? six years ago??? after Wonwoo’s birthday??? oh they’ve been insane for each other for a long time.
@/mingyusbiceps • 6 hours ago ╰ 00:30 the way she said “Ready? You’ll have to get all of these right or I’ll be very upset.” and he just leaned back like he already KNOWS everything… yeah that man studied her like a textbook
@/nanayaluna • 5 hours ago ╰ YOON JEONGHAN PULLING LUNA’S CHAIR WITH HIS FOOT TO WHISPER IN HER EAR!!! LORD HAVE MERCY 🥵🥵🥵
@/wooahae • 5 hours ago ╰ Jeonghan: “You wore black a lot when we were trainees. That was one of the reasons you stood out to everyone. But you stood out to me because you were really pretty.” HELLOOOO?!!!
@/hoshishamster • 4 hours ago ╰ HER FACE WHEN HE GOT THE TATTOOS RIGHT??? ALL OF THEM??? even the tiny ones??? i’m actually screaming Jeonghan is a human Bae Jiyeon Encyclopedia 😝
@/dinosfuture • 3 hours ago ╰ 10:35 “What did I miss?” “I kiss you before I sleep.” HELLO??? SIR??? THIS IS A PUBLIC PLATFORM
@/scoupsleadernim • 2 hours ago ╰ i love how she kept trying to move on when he got smug like she KNOWS he’s about to say something that’ll embarrass her 😭 their dynamic is everything to me! I miss them soo much 🩷
@/caratdeul • 1 hour ago ╰ the way they both said “It depends.” at the same time about Jiyeon’s jealousy… yeah they’ve had that conversation before LMAO
@/hanieangelcore • 1 hour ago ╰ 11:50 when he mouthed something and pulled her chair closer??? and she smacked him after??? WHAT DID HE SAY I NEED ANSWERS!!!
@/moonlightbaeby • 30 minutes ago ╰ the lego room reveal??? SIX THOUSAND PIECE HOGWARTS SET??? they really built a whole life together brick by brick i’m crying
@/ot14forever • 52 minutes ago ╰ the way they both got perfect scores like of course they did… they’ve been orbiting each other for YEARS this was light work for them 😭
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girl u need to more dad mingyu fics!! love ur writing btw! 🫶
Expecting || Dad!Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: YES I DO!!!
Wc: 2,580
Warnings: none just fluff :)
MASTERLIST
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Mingyu’s driving with one hand resting easy on the wheel, the other resting loosely on your thigh. His thumb moves in slow, lazy circles against your skin like he doesn't even realise he's doing it.
In the backseat, your daughter fills the quiet with her own little world, babbling nonsense to herself like it’s the most important conversation she’s ever had.
Her tiny shoes tap against the car seat in uneven kicks, soft thuds that come and go as she wiggles, completely content with the attention she’s giving herself.
Eleven months old, and somehow already running both your lives without even trying.
You twist slightly in your seat, looking back at her, your expression softening. She catches your eye for a split second and lets out a bright, proud sound, like she’s been waiting for you to notice.
“She’s in a good mood,” you say, turning back around, a smile still lingering on your lips.
Mingyu glances at you briefly before returning his attention to the road, the corner of his mouth lifting. “She always is when she’s about to show off,” he murmurs, voice low and amused. “Wait till your sister starts paying attention to her.”
You let out a soft huff of laughter, settling back into your seat. “She gets that from you.” That earns you a look.
He turns his head just enough, brows lifting slightly, eyes flicking over you with that familiar mix of mock offence and quiet fondness. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Gyu," you say easily, tilting your head against the headrest as you watch him. “You love attention. Don’t even try to act like you don’t.”
There’s a second where he just looks at you, like he’s deciding whether to argue or not. Then his hand tightens on your thigh, a gentle squeeze that lingers for a second longer than necessary.
“I think you’re projecting,” he says, but there’s no real bite to it.
You smile faintly, not bothering to respond, because you both know you’re right.
Then, after a second, his voice goes softer. “You okay?”
Your fingers drift down to your stomach without thinking.
It’s still early. Not obvious. Not something anyone would notice unless you told them. But you know. And he knows.
You glance over at him, catching the way his grip on the wheel has tightened just slightly, the way he’s not looking at you now but still completely tuned in.
“I’m okay,” you say softly. Your voice comes out calmer than you expect, steadier too.
“Just…” you pause, exhaling lightly as your thumb brushes over the fabric of your top. “Thinking about telling her.”
He finally looks at you properly this time, eyes softening in a way that makes your chest tighten just a little.
“She’s going to lose her mind,” he says, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
You let out a quiet hum, already picturing it.
“Mm. At you, specifically.”
That gets a small laugh out of him, low and under his breath, like he already knows exactly how it’s going to go.
“Yeah,” he mutters, glancing back at the road. “I figured.”
The corner of his mouth lingers in that smug smile for a second before his hand slips from your thigh, reaching for yours instead.
His fingers slide easily between yours, like it's instinct, like he's done it a thousand times and will do it a thousand more.
He lifts your joined hands slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss against your knuckles.
"I'm sure your sister will understand though," he murmurs against your skin. His eyes flick toward you, glint of playfulness in them.
"I can't seem to get enough of you."
You scoff immediately, but it comes out lighter than you intend, your lips twitching as you try to fight the smile threatening to break through.
“Please,” you mutter, nudging his arm slightly with your shoulder. “You’re so—”
“So what?” he presses, amused, glancing at you again.
You shake your head, rolling your eyes, but there’s no real anger behind it. “You just love it when I’m pregnant, don’t you?”
There’s a brief pause. Then he hums. Not even denying it.
Your brows lift, turning toward him properly now. “Mingyu.”
“What?” he says, completely unfazed, a grin tugging at his lips like he’s been caught and doesn’t care in the slightest.
“If it were up to me,” he continues casually, giving your hand a small squeeze, “you would’ve been pregnant sooner.”
You let out a louder scoff this time, half incredulous, half laughing as you pull your hand back just enough to swat lightly at his arm. “Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.”
He just laughs, shoulders relaxing further into his seat like he’s pleased with himself.
~
By the time you pull into the driveway, you barely have time to unclip your seatbelt before the front door swings open.
Your sister's alreadyt there, like she's been watching for your car, bouncing slightly on her feet with barely contained excitement.
You laugh under your breath. “She’s been waiting.”
“Obviously,” Mingyu murmurs, cutting the engine as he glances toward the house, already spotting her standing there. “Not for us, though.”
You hum in agreement, pushing the door open just as she steps forward.
“Finally—” she starts, but the second you’re within reach, she wraps her arms around you, squeezing tight, quick and familiar. “Oh my god, it’s been too long.”
“I saw you last week,” you mumble into her shoulder, smiling anyway.
“Exactly. Too long,” she insists, already pulling back, only to immediately lean around you, eyes lighting up. “Give me my niece.”
“No hello for me?” Mingyu mutters from the other side of the car, but there’s no real complaint in it.
He’s already moving, already opening the back door and carefully unbuckling your daughter from her seat.
Your sister rolls her eyes like clockwork, completely unimpressed. “Hi, Mingyu,” she says flatly, waving a hand in his direction without even properly looking at him. “Now hand her over.”
“She just got here,” he protests, lifting your daughter up with easy familiarity, one hand supporting her back as he brings her against his chest.
She melts into him instantly, like that’s exactly where she wants to be. “At least pretend you missed me.”
“I did,” your sister replies without hesitation, tone dry. “Now give me the baby.”
You can’t help the laugh that slips out as you close the car door, leaning back against it for a second just to watch.
Your daughter, traitor that she is, clings happily to Mingyu instead, tiny hands gripping his shirt as she lets out a delighted little squeal, face lighting up like she’s just been handed her favourite thing in the world.
Which, apparently, is him.
Your sister freezes mid-step, blinking. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Mingyu looks down at her, then back up at your sister, a slow grin spreading across his face as he adjusts his hold, bouncing your daughter lightly.
“Looks like she’s made her choice,” he says, voice laced with quiet satisfaction.
“Unbelievable,” your sister mutters, hands dropping to her hips as she stares at the two of them. “I’m literally her aunt.”
Your daughter only giggles louder, pressing her face into Mingyu’s chest for a second before peeking back out, completely unbothered by the betrayal she’s committing.
You push yourself off the car, shaking your head as you walk over. “You’ll survive.”
“I won’t,” your sister argues immediately. “This is personal.”
Mingyu huffs out a laugh, shifting your daughter slightly, his hand splayed securely across her back as she continues to cling to him like she’s glued there.
“You’re just jealous,” he says easily.
“I am jealous,” she shoots back. “Give her to me.”
He pretends to consider it. Actually looks down at your daughter like he’s asking her opinion.
“Should I?” he murmurs softly. She responds by grabbing onto his collar even tighter.
Your sister groans. “She’s dramatic. She gets that from you.”
You snort, crossing your arms as you lean against Mingyu’s side for a second, glancing up at him. “Told you.”
“Unbelievable,” your sister mutters again, stepping aside to let you both in. “I carried you for nine months,” she says to the baby, pointing accusingly. “Well, not me, but still. You owe me something.”
You laugh under your breath as you slip your shoes off, the familiar scent of her place wrapping around you instantly.
Behind you, Mingyu steps in carefully, ducking his head slightly out of habit even though he doesn’t need to, your daughter still tucked securely against him.
She looks around curiously, eyes wide, taking everything in like it’s brand new, one hand still fisted tightly in his shirt.
"See?” your sister continues, shutting the door. “Not even a second glance at me.”
“She’s just overwhelmed,” you say lightly, though you’re already smiling because you know that’s not entirely true.
“She’s not overwhelmed,” your sister argues, walking past you into the living room. “She’s obsessed with him. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Mingyu replies easily, following after her. “I'm literally her dad.”
“Don’t start,” she mutters, dropping onto the couch.
You end up curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you, while Mingyu sits beside you, your daughter comfortably perched on his lap.
She’s completely entertained, tiny fingers wrapping clumsily around his, pulling them toward her mouth, only for him to gently stop her each time with quiet patience.
“No, no,” he murmurs softly, adjusting her grip, letting her hold onto his thumb instead. “That’s not for eating.”
She lets out a small, frustrated sound, then immediately gets distracted again, reaching for him like he’s the most interesting thing in the room.
And he lets her. Every time.
You watch him for a second longer than you mean to.
The way his big hands move so carefully with her. The way he instinctively shifts whenever she wiggles, keeping her steady without even thinking about it.
Your sister notices.
Of course she does.
She leans back into her seat, arms crossing loosely as she watches them for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly like she’s analysing something she doesn’t quite trust.
Then she looks at you. “You got lucky,” she says bluntly.
You blink, pulling your gaze away from Mingyu. “With?”
She gestures toward him, chin tilting in his direction. “That. He’s… annoyingly good at this.”
There’s a second where Mingyu glances up, catching the tail end of it.
A slow, knowing smirk pulls at his lips.
“You can just say you’re impressed,” he says, voice easy.
“I’m not,” your sister shoots back immediately, not missing a beat. “I’m suspicious.”
You snort, shaking your head as you lean back into the couch. “Of what?”
“Of men who are that good with babies,” she says simply. “There’s always something behind it.”
Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh, looking back down at your daughter as she grabs at his fingers again. “Yeah? Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she mutters. “Too much experience. Too much confidence. It’s unsettling.”
“Or,” he counters, glancing up briefly, “I just love my kid.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves it off. “Still suspicious.”
There’s a lull in the conversation after that. Your sister goes on about something—work, maybe—but you’re only half-listening.
You try to follow. You really do.
But your thoughts keep circling back to the same place, over and over again. The timing. The words.
The exact way you’re going to say it. The way she’s going to react.
Mingyu must notices your silence, because his eyes flick toward you briefly, something knowing in his expression.
You take a breath.
“Hey,” you cut in gently, interrupting your sister mid-sentence.
Your sister stops mid-sentence, blinking as she turns to you. “Yeah?”
You hesitate just for a second, then say it. “I have something to tell you.”
That gets her full attention immediately. Her posture straightens, eyes narrowing just slightly as she studies your face. “Why do you sound like that?” she asks, suspicion creeping in. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” you say quickly, already smiling a little to soften it. “It’s just—”
Your hand moves to your stomach again, instinctively. “I’m pregnant.” Silence. For exactly one second.
Your sister just stares at you, blinking once like she’s buffering, like her brain is trying to catch up with what you just said.
Then, “Another one?!”
Her voice practically bounces off the walls, loud and sharp with disbelief as her head snaps so fast toward Mingyu it’s almost comical.
Mingyu freezes mid-bounce, your daughter still in his hands as he blinks at her, caught completely off guard by the sudden attack.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, half laughing already because he knows exactly where this is going.
“Because this is your fault,” she says, pointing at him dramatically.
You can't help but burst out laughing.
“Give my baby sister a break, Mingyu!” she exclaims. “It hasn’t even been a year!”
He lets out a disbelieving laugh, shifting your daughter slightly as she starts babbling at the sudden noise. “Okay, first of all—”
“No, no, don’t ‘first of all’ me,” your sister cuts him off. “Do you not know how to—”
“Alright,” you interrupt quickly, laughing harder now. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
Your sister looks like she absolutely wants to anyway, mouth already half open, but your reaction only makes it worse.
“I’m getting blamed like I did this alone,” he mutters, glancing over at you like you should be backing him up.
You only laugh more, shaking your head. “You’re not helping your case.”
You just laugh even more, shaking your head as you lean back into the couch. “You’re not helping your case at all.”
“I’m not even saying anything,” he argues, though he very clearly is.
“You don’t have to,” you shoot back, still smiling. “Your face says enough.”
“That’s exactly my point,” your sister cuts in immediately. “Another baby? Already?"
Mingyu finally looks up properly at that, like he’s deciding whether to take this seriously or not.
“I mean…” he shrugs, shifting your daughter on his lap as she leans into him, completely unbothered by the chaos she’s indirectly caused.
One of her hands fists into his shirt again, and he steadies her without even thinking about it. “I like my wife.”
There’s a split second of silence.
Then your sister makes a face.
“Disgusting,” she says, but she’s already laughing, shaking her head like she doesn’t even have the energy to argue with that.
“I’m being honest,” he says, completely unapologetic, like that alone should clear him of any accusations.
Your sister groans, dragging a hand slowly down her face as if she’s physically trying to wipe the conversation away. “I don’t need to hear this. I really don’t.”
“But you asked,” he points out.
“I didn’t ask for details!”
“I didn’t give any details,” he shoots back, still grinning, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head, but before either of them can keep going, your daughter lets out another bright squeal.
His grin softens, one hand coming up to steady her as she wiggles excitedly. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice lowering without him even thinking about it. “You having fun?”
She grabs at his collar again, babbling nonsense back at him like she understands everything that’s going on.
He lets out a quiet chuckle, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek, lingering just for a second before pulling back.
summary: You’ve been avoiding Jungkook for the past few weeks because of exams, and it takes him just one visit at your apartment to remind you how wrong you were to do so.
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x female!reader
genre: college au, established relationship, fluff, little angst, hurt, comfort
word count: 1,734
You turned the page of your textbook for the hundredth time, the words starting to get blurry now as you became more and more tired. What frustrated you was that you have been studying the same topic for hours now, but no matter what method you tried, you were not able to complete it.
Your finals were going on, you were done with all other subjects except this one, and the last one seems to be frying your brain the most. You have been surviving on 4 hours of sleep and caffeine for the past two weeks, and you just wanted to be done with it now.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could allow yourself to bask in the sadness, in the constant feeling of being a disappointment and just not good enough, you closed the textbook. Maybe a break is what you need right now.
The chair scraped against the floor as you pushed it back to stand up. Before you could stretch your body to somewhat relieve the knots in your muscles, you hear your phone buzz on the table.
Three new messages!
Jungkook ❤️: going out with taehyung hyung
Jungkook ❤️: do you wanna join? we can have dinner at your favorite chinese place.
Jungkook ❤️: haven’t seen you in weeks, miss you :(
Your heart ached at his messages. Because of the exam stress, you started spending less time with him so that you could focus only on studying. Being away from him hurts; you miss being close to him. But it’s just about a few more days; you can do this. Right?
You: sounds tempting, but I can't. i'm sorry :( i need to study
You hesitated a little before pressing send. You quickly put your phone back on the desk and went to the kitchen to look for something edible and to make yourself another cup of coffee. You did know that drinking this amount of caffeine is bad for your health, but you really needed to ace these finals. You have to make do with what you have.
After having some light snacks, you go back to your desk with your new cup of coffee and get back into those stupid formulas.
˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊
Knock-knock-knock.
The sudden sound of knocking jolted you up, and you realised you had accidentally fallen asleep on your desk. Glancing at the clock, you noticed you had wasted two hours sleeping. You felt fresh tears well up in your eyes as you bit your lips to stop them from trembling. You only have two more days; what are you doing?
Knock-knock. Another set of knocks reminded you that someone’s at your door. Who would it be at this hour? You take a few deep breaths before heading to the door. Before turning the knob, you glanced out through the peephole. It was him.
“Jungkook…?” you whispered to yourself, confused as to why he was here, but relieved at the same time.
You quickly opened the door, and there he stood. Your boyfriend of almost a year was dressed in his usual jeans and hoodie, looking as handsome as ever. His cheeks were slightly flushed, probably because of the cold. One of his fingers loosely held a takeout bag you remember was from your favorite Chinese place.
“Were you sleeping? I’m sorry if I woke you up.” He smiled apologetically, but you could see it was strained. The distance was hurting him too. You suddenly felt that ache return. You didn’t mean to hurt him.
You nod. “I fell asleep. What are you doing here?” You moved away to let him enter. The sight of him in your small apartment felt all too familiar, with him being here many times before. He took off his shoes and walked to the kitchen to put the takeout bags down before starting to take them out on the counter for you to eat.
“You’ve been avoiding me, baby. You didn’t even say you missed me back earlier.” He spoke softly, though it was laced with quiet hurt. He finished setting up the food before turning back to you. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
There it was. Those eyes. He was looking at you with those pleading eyes that made you feel like shit for making him stay away from you for weeks. You wanted those eyes to always crinkle with happiness, not be filled with sadness.
You nod, looking away. “I know. It’s just.. exams. I was… studying.” You felt pathetic saying those words. Looking at him was too much right now. You don’t like making him sad.
You felt him coming closer to you—felt his hands cup your face before turning it back to him, his brows scrunched up in concern. “What’s wrong, baby? I know it’s not just exams.” His words made you want to cry, and before you knew it, your eyes filled up with tears.
His eyes widened slightly before he pulled you into a hug, one hand behind your head while the other rubbed your back. “It’s okay; you can cry. Let it out, baby.” His soothing voice made you do exactly that, as you broke down in his arms. You truly did miss him.
Wrapping your arms around his waist, you looked up at him with the tears still flowing down your cheeks. “I- I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I didn’t mean to avoid you, I’m just- so stupid.” You pressed your face back into his chest, letting his hoodie absorb your tears.
“Hey, you’re not stupid. You’re just going through whatever you’re going through alone, but I’m here, yeah? We’re together in everything, right, baby?” He smiled softly as he felt you nod with your face still pressed in his chest.
After another five minutes, you finally calmed down. He pulled away enough to wipe your face clean with his sleeves before pulling you towards the couch. “I got you your favorite; you hungry?” After receiving another nod, he went to get the food he set up earlier and put it in front of you on the coffee table.
He handed you the chopsticks before gesturing towards the food. You looked down at the food before looking back up at him. “All this is for me? Isn’t it a lot?” He shook his head. “I didn’t eat anything. I wanted to eat with you.”
Your heart fluttered at his words. You have always known him to be considerate, but it never stops to make you smile. “Okay. Thank you.” Turning back to the food, you both started eating. The silence surrounding you two was not an awkward one, but rather comforting.
After you two were done, he quickly put away the empty packages in the trash before coming back to sit with you on the couch. You stay seated in your position, with your hands balled into fists on your lap. A heavy silence sat between you two as you debated how to tell him what you are feeling.
A surprised gasp left your lips as you suddenly felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you close until you were settled on his lap. His hands held your hips in place before moving away to hold your hands.
Warmth slowly crept onto your body as you both intertwined your fingers, letting them rest on your lap. “I missed you.” The words were simple yet held profound meaning. And this time, Jungkook expected you to return the sentiment.
“I missed you, too. I’m sorry.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. A soft tug at your joined hands made you look up again. He gave you a comforting smile. It eased your tension a little, your body relaxing. At least he didn’t look sad anymore.
“You know that my finals are going on right now, right?” At his nod, you continued. “I’ve always had this feeling of…. not being good enough. There’s not much I am really good at. Academics is the only thing I can excel in if I put in enough effort. I thought that if I continued spending time with you during my exams, I wouldn’t be able to focus… I know it’s stupid, but I couldn’t help but feel that way. And I ended up pushing you away. It was never my intention to hurt you. I’m- I’m sorry…” You held your breath, waiting for his reply.
Understanding dawned over his face. “Baby, that’s not true. You’re kind. You’re always thinking of others before yourself even when it annoys me. You’re such a hard worker. You always try to make others feel at ease. I’m the happiest when I’m with you. Even if you were to fail your exams, it would not change the way I feel about you. You’ll always be amazing to me. It doesn’t matter whether you excel in academics or not. Just don’t avoid me, baby. Please.” He finished. One of his hands was now cupping your face softly, eyes gazing softly at you.
It never stops to amaze you just how good he was with words, how his touch could make you feel better immediately.
You nodded. Maybe it will take some time for you to actually believe those words, but you can at least try starting today. “I- I won’t. I’ll try to communicate better.”
He smiled softly, with you mirroring it. “That’s all I want. Come here.”
His hands wrap around you, pulling you into his chest with you still on his lap. He hummed when you shifted slightly to find a comfortable position; your hands wrapped around his neck. “This feels nice,” you whispered.
Sometime later, you both end up sprawled on your bed, still cuddling. His chin rested on top of your head as you pressed your face into his chest. This is how you want your days to always end, in his arms. “Jungkook?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. Thank you for always being here. Even when I’m not being nice.”
He hummed, his arms around you tightening. “I love you, too, baby. And I’m always here.”
One of his hands shifted to the back of your head as his fingers started massaging your scalp slowly. The last thing you feel is his lips on your temple before your eyes begin to close, slowly drifting into the sleep your body had been screaming for for days.
Pairing: Basketball Player Mingyu! x Roommate Reader!
Genre: Roommate to lover au!
Type: fantasy, fluff
Words Count: 14k
Summary: After being roommates for years, Mingyu finally see 'your' cat for the first time—and it's not technically a cat.
Mingyu pushed open the door to his apartment, the weight of the crutches under his arms feeling heavier than his own body. His right leg, wrapped in a brace, ached with every small movement, a dull reminder of the career-threatening injury he had suffered during practice. The air inside was still, silent—too silent. Usually, he wouldn’t have noticed, but tonight, the quiet felt suffocating.
The moment he stepped inside, reality hit him all over again. No more training. No more games. No more adrenaline-pumping moments on the court. He had spent years building his life around basketball, and now, with one wrong landing, it was all on pause.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he forced a breath through his nose. Positive mindset, positive mindset… at least, he would have a year to rest. A whole year to recover, reset, maybe even enjoy things outside of basketball. But who was he kidding? His life revolved around the game. The thought of sitting on the sidelines, of watching his teammates push forward without him, gnawed at his chest like an open wound.
With a grunt, he shuffled further inside, his good leg bearing most of his weight. But just as he adjusted his crutches, his left crutch suddenly slipped, and his balance wavered. A sharp jolt of panic shot through him as he struggled to keep himself upright.
“Shit!” he hissed, his grip tightening just in time to prevent himself from crashing down. He glanced at the floor, only to see a crumpled wet tissue stuck beneath his crutch—the likely culprit. His brows furrowed as he glared at it, frustration bubbling in his chest.
You. You must have left it there before heading out.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but right now? He couldn’t even bend down to pick up a damn tissue. With a defeated sigh, he leaned against the wall, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat.
That tissue was staying there until you got home. And when you did, he was going to make sure you heard about it.
Mingyu lowered himself onto the couch with a groan, adjusting his injured leg carefully on the cushion. The dull ache was a constant reminder of everything he had lost—at least for now. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and started typing out a message to you.
Mingyu: Got injured. Won’t be playing this season. Basically jobless now, stuck at home 24/7.
Mingyu: Except for when I have to stay in the hospital for surgery. Yay, fun.
Mingyu: Anyway, just letting you know before you freak out or something.
He hit send, then leaned back against the couch. But before he could even set his phone down, he heard a familiar notification sound—from the kitchen.
Mingyu’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t his phone.
Slowly, he turned his head, spotting your phone sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter. His lips parted in disbelief before he let out a long, exasperated sigh.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.
Of all the times for you to forget your phone, it had to be now? He shook his head, rubbing his temple. How could you be clumsier than him? At least he had an excuse—he was injured. But you? You were just naturally chaotic.
Six years ago, you and Mingyu met at a volunteer project for an animal rescue club. You—a self-proclaimed cat lover—had eagerly signed up, hoping to spend your time caring for rescued kittens. Mingyu—a very proud dog person—joined with equal enthusiasm, but for the dogs. Naturally, the two of you had nothing in common.
That was until fate decided to be cruel.
On your first day, you were assigned to work together. Not with kittens. Not with puppies. But with snakes.
Both of you despised snakes. Yet there you were, forced to clean their enclosure, standing stiffly at opposite ends of the room, watching the creatures slither while pretending to be unbothered. That pretense lasted all of five minutes before Mingyu nearly tripped over his own feet, sending you shrieking into a corner. From then on, your dynamic was set—filled with bickering, sarcastic remarks, and the occasional truce when neither of you could deal with a particularly terrifying task.
Fast forward a few months, and somehow, your lives became even more tangled.
Mingyu’s dorm contract was expiring, and he was scrambling to find a new place. Meanwhile, your landlord had suddenly hiked up your rent, making it impossible for you to afford the place on your own. The solution was painfully obvious. So, despite your history of playful feuds, you reached out to him with an offer—split the rent and become roommates.
Mingyu agreed.
And, surprisingly, living with you wasn’t as bad as he had expected. You cooked, you cleaned, and you practically ran the apartment while he was barely home, only crashing on his rare days off. When he did have free time, he’d find you deeply immersed in your work as a linguistic researcher—something he never quite understood, no matter how many times you patiently explained it. But over time, he started noticing little details about you.
One, you loved meditation.
Your yoga mat was always neatly rolled up in the corner, and the scent of aromatherapy candles lingered in the apartment. Some mornings, he’d wake up to the sound of soft instrumental music playing from your room—peaceful, calming, something he’d never admit he actually found nice.
Two, you enjoyed tea and reading.
The kitchen cabinet had an entire shelf dedicated to neatly arranged tea bags, and your mug collection was surprisingly excessive for one person. Whenever Mingyu came home early, he’d often find you curled up on the couch, book in hand, a warm cup of tea beside you. You looked so at ease in those moments that even he, someone who never had the patience to sit still for long, could appreciate the tranquility of it.
Three, you had a cat. Or at least, you claimed to.
This one, however, was a mystery. Mingyu had never seen the cat. Not once. And yet, there was a litter box, a food container labeled with a cat’s name, and bags of cat food neatly tucked away in the cabinet. It didn’t make sense. If you had a cat, where was it? Was it hiding? Was it imaginary? At this point, Mingyu was starting to wonder if you were messing with him.
Mingyu was about to scroll mindlessly on his phone when his ears suddenly caught a faint sound—a soft, whimpering noise coming from right beside him.
His brows furrowed. That was... a cat?
Before he could process it, the blanket next to him shifted, a small lump moving underneath. Then, out of the folds of fabric, a white cat slowly emerged, its fluffy body trembling as it cautiously peeked up at him with wide, round eyes.
Mingyu froze.
For months, he had questioned this cat’s existence and now, here it was, staring right at him. His injury, his frustration, the long, miserable day he would be having—suddenly, none of it mattered. The only thing occupying his mind now was how ridiculously cute this cat was.
"Hey..." Mingyu said softly, barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle the tiny creature.
The cat flinched at the sound of his voice, its small body shivering ever so slightly. Mingyu could feel the hesitation radiating off of it, its big, untrusting eyes locked onto him.
"That's okay," he reassured gently, keeping his voice calm. "I'm Y/n’s roommate. I live here too, just like you."
He stayed perfectly still, giving the cat space, hoping it wouldn't bolt and disappear like some kind of spirit again. A tiny part of him—the competitive part—was determined to win this cat over.
Before Mingyu could even think about reaching out, the white cat suddenly bolted.
In a flash of fur, it leaped off the couch and sprinted across the living room with an urgency that made Mingyu blink. He barely had time to react before the cat launched itself at your bedroom door—and to his absolute shock, it jumped up, grabbed the doorknob with its tiny paws, twisted it, and pushed the door open.
Mingyu sat there, mouth slightly agape.
The door creaked open just enough for the cat to slip inside, and then—slam! The door shut from the inside, as if the cat had personally decided that Mingyu was no longer allowed in its presence.
For a long moment, all Mingyu could do was stare at your now-closed bedroom door, trying to process what had just happened.
Then, finally, he muttered under his breath,
“…Is that actually a cat?”
*
"I met your cat, Caty, yesterday," Mingyu announced as he walked out of his room, his voice still thick with sleep.
You barely glanced at him, focused on the eggs sizzling in the pan. "Want some?" you asked.
Mingyu held up four fingers. "Make it four."
"Put some spinach, please," he added, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You ate all of it two days ago," you shot back instantly.
Mingyu rolled his eyes. He had thought there was still spinach left, only to realize that, yet again, he hadn’t gone grocery shopping in months.
As he took a seat at the counter, he leaned forward on his elbows. "By the way, about Caty," he started, a smirk playing on his lips. "She’s not a cat, right?"
You raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I mean, she immediately bolted when she saw me," Mingyu said, his tone half-exasperated, half-amused. "Then she—get this—jumped up, twisted the doorknob with her tiny paws, and slammed your bedroom door shut in my face."
He leaned back, laughing at the memory, his deep chuckle filling the kitchen.
"She hates people," you said simply, placing his plate of eggs in front of him. "Especially you."
Mingyu scoffed, clearly offended. "Excuse me? That was the first time she saw me—how could she hate me already?" He crossed his arms dramatically. "Girls will be girls, I guess."
Rolling your eyes, you placed a pair of chopsticks beside his plate before untying your apron and hanging it up.
Mingyu's gaze flickered to your outfit—plaid shirt, sweater, and your signature gray glasses resting on your nose. His brows furrowed. "You're leaving again?"
"I have work," you replied, slipping your bag over your shoulder. "Unlike someone who’s injured and stuck at home for a year."
Mingyu scowled. "That was uncalled for." But then he perked up, grinning. "Still, at least I met your cat."
"Whatever, Mingyu. Caty hates you—just like I hate you. I’m going."
Mingyu burst out laughing. "You love me!" he called after you.
"The opposite!" you yelled back, slamming the door behind you.
Mingyu never thought an injury could slow him down this much. Being forced to stay home, get plenty of rest, and eat healthy, home-cooked meals felt like a punishment at first. But to his surprise, the food was actually good.
He never realized you were this skilled in the kitchen. Sure, he knew you could cook—he had been eating your leftovers and stealing bites from your plates for years—but now that he was home for every meal, he was truly appreciating it. His days were suddenly filled with steaming bowls of soup, neatly arranged side dishes, and hearty meals that made recovery feel a little less miserable.
And the more time he spent at home, the more he realized just how little he actually knew about you.
You had always been the "mystery roommate" in his life—someone who was just there whenever he came back after a long day, quietly keeping the apartment running while he was off chasing his own schedule. But now, with nothing to do but observe, he found himself studying you.
Your routine—or rather, your lack of a consistent one—was oddly amusing to him.
One morning, you were up at dawn, doing yoga on your mat with soft meditation music playing in the background. The next day, you barely rolled out of bed on time, rushing through breakfast while half-asleep.
Some evenings, you came home and immediately sat at the dining table, sipping tea and reading quietly like some calm, sophisticated scholar. Other nights, you collapsed on the couch face-first, dead asleep within seconds.
It was as if you didn’t live by a routine at all—just a collection of habits that changed depending on your mood.
Is that even considered a routine?
But what entertained him the most was just how much you slept.
After work? Nap.
After dinner? Nap.
Before bed? Another nap.
If he were to break down your day, at least 70% of it was spent sleeping.
Mingyu had never met someone so committed to maximizing every second of rest. You woke up exactly one hour before your commuting time, never earlier. Sometimes, you even set multiple alarms just to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep.
And the funniest part? Now that Mingyu was home all the time, you started making breakfast for him, too.
Not because you wanted to. But because if you didn’t, Mingyu would guilt-trip you.
"You forgot about my existence, Y/n?" he would dramatically gasp over the phone if he caught you sneaking out without feeding him first.
"You have hands," you would grumble.
"But you make it better," he would whine, and somehow, that always worked.
A week after his first surgery, Mingyu was lazily scrolling on his phone, booking a cab for his rehab appointment when you suddenly spoke up.
"You have rehab today?"
He glanced up, surprised that you even remembered. "Yeah," he mumbled, still tapping at his screen.
"I'll drive you," you said casually.
Mingyu froze mid-scroll.
"You have a car?" he asked, staring at you as if he had just discovered a whole new side of you.
"Yeah?" you replied, confused.
His mouth fell open. "You're rich…"
You snorted. "It's my dad’s."
Mingyu clutched his chest dramatically. "And you're driving me? You’re—" he gasped. "You’re personally escorting me? This is love, isn’t it?"
You rolled your eyes and grabbed your keys. "Just hurry up," you muttered.
Mingyu grinned, slowly getting up from the couch, his movements sluggish as he adjusted his crutches. You waited by the door, watching as he hobbled over at a painfully slow pace.
"This is taking forever," you muttered.
"You try walking with one leg," Mingyu shot back.
Still, even as he struggled, even as he whined the whole way down to the car, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
Because, for the first time in forever, you were driving him somewhere. And for some reason, that made his day.
*
During dinner, Mingyu brought up something that had been bugging him for weeks.
"It's been two months, and I still haven’t seen Caty since that first time," he complained between bites, setting his chopsticks down dramatically.
You barely looked up as you reached for a piece of the chicken dish—one that Mingyu had proudly insisted on making that evening, just because he had groceries delivered in the afternoon.
"Why are you so obsessed with my cat?" you asked, popping a bite into your mouth. To your surprise, it was actually good.
"This is good," you admitted, pointing at the chicken.
Mingyu’s lips curled into a smug grin. "Of course it is."
You shook your head at his self-satisfaction and returned to eating, but Mingyu wasn’t about to drop the real conversation.
"Caty is so cute. Her eyes are huge, and her fur is so fluffy. I want to bite her," he said with a dreamy sigh, as if he were talking about some mythical creature he had only encountered once in a vision.
"You saw her just once," you deadpanned.
"And I want to see her again." He leaned forward eagerly. "Come on, where is she? She’s in your room, right?"
You hummed, neither confirming nor denying it, but your head shook slightly. "Caty is a very solitary creature. She doesn’t like company. She doesn’t even like my calm and reserved company."
"Maybe she likes mine," Mingyu said nonchalantly, as if that were the most logical thing in the world.
You rolled your eyes. "Good luck with that."
The conversation drifted to other things as the two of you finished dinner. Later, as you plopped down on the couch, stomach full and ready to unwind, you flipped through the channels until you landed on an animated movie.
Mingyu, with nothing better to do, joined you, stretching out comfortably on the other end of the couch. The movie followed a boy who lived apart from his parents, only for tragedy to strike when they unexpectedly passed away.
A quiet moment settled between you both as you watched. Then, out of curiosity, you asked, "Do you miss your parents?"
Mingyu didn’t hesitate. "Sometimes," he said, his voice casual but thoughtful. "But they don’t live too far. I visit them sometimes."
You nodded, keeping your eyes on the screen, but something about his answer stuck with you.
Mingyu had always been surrounded by people—friends, teammates, fans. Yet, for someone who thrived on companionship, he never really talked about his family.
And for the first time, you found yourself wanting to ask more.
"How was your childhood, Mingyu?" you asked, your voice light but curious.
Mingyu didn’t even hesitate. "I’ve always been a bright child. Very likable, very—"
"Noisy," you muttered under your breath.
Unfortunately, he heard it.
"Hey," he shot you a look, placing a hand over his chest as if you’d deeply wounded him. "I call it opinionated, sweetheart. And my parents were very lovely with their children, by the way."
A small smile tugged at your lips. "I can tell."
Mingyu turned to look at you then. He didn’t like how the atmosphere had shifted. Talking about his sunshine-filled, warm family was natural for him, but it was almost as if… you couldn’t relate.
He wanted to ask.
He wanted to know more about you.
But instead, he changed the subject. "How did you meet Caty?"
You let out an exaggerated sigh, fingers pressing against your temple. "Not with Caty again!"
"Why not? Caty is your family, right? I'd like to know!"
You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the screen. "Caty..." you started, your voice unusually soft. "Caty has always been there. She's always been there with me."
Mingyu frowned slightly. "She doesn’t look old."
"We age like fine wine. It’s in our DNA."
Mingyu snorted. "So, she’s your daughter?"
You smiled, but instead of answering, you turned your head back to the movie.
And for the first time, Mingyu really looked at you.
The soft glow from the TV illuminated your face, casting shadows along your features, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the way your lips curled ever so slightly, the way your eyelashes framed your eyes.
You were beautiful.
Like, very beautiful.
And what surprised him the most… was that he had never really noticed before.
*
One night, Mingyu noticed that you hadn’t come out of your room since the afternoon. You hadn’t even touched your dinner. He remembered you mentioning your latest research paper and how much of a pain it had been, but he found it annoying how focused you could get—so much so that you skipped meals without a second thought.
Grabbing his crutch, he slowly made his way toward your door, knocking gently before calling your name.
"Y/n, you haven’t had dinner," he said, eyeing the takeout he had ordered for you hours ago, now cold and untouched.
Silence.
"Y/n?" His voice softened, worry creeping in. "You okay? I'm coming in, alright?"
But when he carefully pushed the door open, he was met with an empty room.
His brows furrowed. You had gone out? Without a word?
He was about to leave when something caught his eye—a small, curled-up figure on your bed, rising and falling gently with each breath.
A white furball.
Caty.
Mingyu's heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting months for this moment.
He stepped inside, moving as quietly as he could, marveling at the sight of the elusive cat finally in the flesh. "Caty…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid of startling her.
The cat stirred, her ears twitching as she opened her wide, curious eyes. But the moment she realized who was approaching, she immediately scooted away, eyeing him with distrust.
Mingyu huffed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Don't be afraid, Caty. I’m Y/n’s friend. Y/n, your owner, who, by the way, left you all alone tonight. Can you believe that?"
His gaze wandered, and his frown deepened when he spotted her food bowl—completely empty.
"Ah, no wonder you’re grumpy," he muttered, shaking his head.
Determined, he hobbled toward the cabinet where he had seen you store Caty's food before. It took some effort, balancing on one crutch while scooping out the dry kibble, but as soon as he poured it into the dish, Caty sprang to life.
She ran straight to the food, brushing past him as if he was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle in her path.
Mingyu blinked, then grinned. Progress.
His heart softened as he watched her eat eagerly. "How dare you leave her hungry, Y/n," he mumbled under his breath.
Carefully, he reached out, fingers hesitating just above her fur before finally making contact.
Soft. So soft.
Caty stiffened for a moment but, to Mingyu’s utter delight, she didn’t run. Instead, she let out a quiet purr.
Mingyu clapped a hand over his mouth, barely stopping himself from squealing.
"Oh my god," he whispered, eyes shining. "You’re my favorite cat. Can’t believe Y/n’s been gatekeeping you from me."
Caty continued eating, completely indifferent to his excitement.
Mingyu smirked, scratching behind her ear. "Your loss, Y/n," he murmured smugly. "She's mine now."
*
Mingyu had been grumpier than usual lately—you noticed. Maybe it was the cabin fever from being stuck at home for so long, but he seemed to get irritated over the smallest things.
Your hair strands on the couch? A crime.
Dishes left unwashed? He huffed.
And the worst? When he held up a piece of your underwear he found in the laundry machine with an unimpressed look, only for you to sprint across the room to snatch it from his fingers.
So, when you saw him sprawled on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone, you decided he needed a change of scenery.
“Wanna come with me?”
Mingyu barely looked up. “Where?”
You shrugged. “A field visit. Secluded area, about two hours of driving and an hour on the ferry.”
That got his attention.
His ears perked up, eyes lighting up at the mention of a ferry. “Wait, on a ship?”
You nodded.
He sat up immediately, his boredom vanishing in an instant. “I’m coming. Wait for me.” Without another word, he grabbed his crutch and hobbled toward his room to change.
Not long after, the two of you were on the road, Mingyu comfortably settled in the passenger seat as you drove. You let him choose the playlist, and he happily took on DJ duties, filling the car with upbeat tracks.
As the music played, Mingyu danced along, his upper body swaying dramatically to the beat. You chuckled, half-focused on the road, occasionally singing along to the lyrics you knew.
“Ohhh, you actually know this one?” Mingyu teased, turning up the volume.
“Shut up.”
He grinned, throwing his hands in the air as the chorus hit, and for the first time in days, he looked genuinely happy.
As the road stretched ahead, the rhythm of the music and the hum of the engine filled the space between you. Mingyu was busy drumming his fingers on the dashboard, nodding along to the beat, when you glanced at him and asked,
“How’s rehab going?”
Mingyu blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh. It’s… fine, I guess.”
“You guess?”
He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just slow. Feels like I’m barely making progress. They keep telling me to be patient, but it’s frustrating.”
You nodded, understanding. “You’re used to moving all the time. Must be hard to slow down.”
Mingyu exhaled through his nose, staring out the window. “Yeah. Feels like I’m stuck.” Then, after a pause, he mumbled, “I kinda hate it.”
You didn’t rush to respond, letting his words settle. Instead, you reached over and gave his knee a small pat before putting your hand back on the wheel.
“You’ll get there,” you said simply. “You just need time.”
Mingyu turned to look at you, and for a moment, he didn’t have a smart remark or playful retort. He just watched you, as if he were seeing you in a different light.
Then, shaking off the weight of the conversation, he suddenly leaned forward and cranked up the volume.
“Alright, no more sad talk. Sing this part with me.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing as he dramatically belted out the next lyrics, completely off-key.
The salty breeze whipped through your hair as the ferry glided across the waves, the rhythmic rocking of the ship creating a slow, lulling motion. You leaned against the railing, gazing out at the endless stretch of water, while Mingyu stood beside you, adjusting the strap of the bag he had insisted on carrying for you.
He glanced over, eyes squinting slightly against the sunlight. “So, what exactly are we doing when we get there?”
You turned your head, watching as seagulls circled above. “Just an interview with an old woman for my paper,” you replied. “She has a lot of knowledge about oral traditions in the area.”
Mingyu nodded thoughtfully before grinning. “And after that? We can go sightseeing and eat, right?”
You smirked. “You just want food, don’t you?”
“I always want food,” he declared shamelessly. “You know this.” Then, tilting his head, he asked, “You like seafood, right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.”
Mingyu hummed, clearly pleased. “Good. Because I’m eating everything.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Try not to bankrupt me.”
“No promises.”
A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both looked out at the open sea. The horizon blurred where the sky met the water, and the sound of waves slapping against the ship’s hull was oddly soothing. Mingyu exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
“This is nice,” he admitted. “Feels like a reset.”
You glanced at him. “You needed a break.”
He nodded. “Yeah. More than I realized.”
You didn’t say anything, but you understood. The months of being stuck at home, of forced stillness, had been suffocating for someone like Mingyu. But now, with the wind in his hair and the vastness of the sea stretching ahead, he looked lighter. More like himself.
“You’re lucky to have work that takes you places,” he mused, watching a fishing boat in the distance.
You smiled. “I think so too.”
Mingyu turned to you then, studying you for a moment. “You really love what you do, huh?”
“I do.”
He hummed in approval before nudging your shoulder lightly. “Alright, then. Let’s get this interview done quickly so we can feast.”
You laughed. “Deal.”
The village was exactly as you had imagined—quiet, nestled between lush green hills and the vast blue sea. The scent of saltwater mixed with the earthiness of the damp ground as you and Mingyu stepped off the ferry, your shoes crunching against the wooden dock.
Mingyu took a deep breath, stretching his arms. "Alright, lead the way, researcher-nim."
You rolled your eyes but smiled, leading him through the narrow streets where elderly locals greeted you with warm smiles. The air buzzed with the faint sound of waves in the distance, children’s laughter echoing from somewhere unseen. Mingyu, ever the curious one, peeked into open storefronts, his eyes lighting up every time he spotted something new.
Your interview with the elderly woman took place in a small, traditional house with wooden floors and the scent of dried herbs lingering in the air. Mingyu, despite not having much to do, listened attentively from the side, nodding along as the woman spoke of old myths and stories passed down through generations. At one point, you caught him staring at you instead, watching the way you took notes, the way your brows furrowed in focus. He quickly looked away when your eyes flickered to him.
When the interview was over, the two of you explored the village, wandering through small paths that led to breathtaking cliffside views. Mingyu took photos, claiming it was for "memories," but he sneakily snapped a few of you when you weren’t looking.
Lunch was a feast—freshly grilled fish, buttery scallops, spicy seafood stew. Mingyu ate with the enthusiasm of a man who had been starving for days, humming in delight with every bite.
“You’re going to cry over food again,” you teased, watching as he closed his eyes in exaggerated bliss.
“I might,” he admitted, stuffing another piece of fish into his mouth. “This is happiness.”
By the time you both decided to head back, the sky had turned a soft shade of orange, the sunset casting golden hues across the water. The ferry ride home was quieter, more peaceful. Mingyu sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours every time the ship swayed.
“Thanks for bringing me today,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.
You turned to him, surprised by his sincerity. “I didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much.”
Mingyu chuckled. “Me neither. But I did. A lot.”
The warmth in his voice made something stir inside you, but you pushed it down, nodding as you turned back to the sea.
By the time you reached home, it was already late. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the window. You both kicked off your shoes near the entrance, exhaustion settling into your limbs.
You yawned. “That was a long day.”
Mingyu hummed in agreement, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, but a good one.”
You nodded, reaching to switch on the hallway light when suddenly—
Mingyu grabbed your wrist, turning you toward him. Before you could process what was happening, he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, warm, familiar in a way that made your stomach flip.
His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before he whispered, almost to himself, “I really want to kiss you right now.”
And then he did.
The kiss was slow, unhurried—like he was memorizing the way you felt against him, the way your lips fit together perfectly. His hand slid up to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he had been waiting for this for a long time.
You were speechless.
Even after Mingyu pulled away, even after he chuckled softly and rested his forehead against yours, even after the warmth of his lips lingered on yours—you couldn't find a single word to say. Your mind was blank, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
Mingyu, on the other hand, had a million thoughts racing through his head.
He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t even thought about kissing you before today, at least not consciously. But now that he had, now that he knew what it felt like—soft, warm, and entirely too natural—he didn’t know how to go back.
Because this was you. His friend. The person who had let him crash at her place, who had cooked him meals, who had dealt with his grumpiness and his boredom. You, who he had always seen as someone steady in his life.
And yet, at some point, that steadiness had become something more. He hadn’t realized it until now, until he kissed you and felt the undeniable pull in his chest.
Mingyu swallowed, suddenly feeling like he had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could retreat from.
“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, stepping back slightly, giving you space. “You okay?”
You blinked up at him, lips parted slightly, still trying to process everything.
Mingyu forced a small laugh, trying to mask the sudden conflict waging inside him. “You’re looking at me like I just spoke in an alien language.”
You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “I just… I didn’t expect that.”
“Yeah…” Mingyu shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Me neither.”
Silence stretched between you, the air thick with something neither of you dared to name just yet.
Mingyu glanced at you one more time, his expression unreadable. Then he cleared his throat. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
You nodded numbly, still dazed.
And as Mingyu walked off to his room, closing the door behind him, he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could keep pretending that what he felt for you was just friendship anymore.
*
Mingyu barely got any sleep. The kiss kept replaying in his mind, over and over, as if his brain was determined to dissect every second of it. Was it the right thing to do? Did he just ruin everything? The moment had felt so natural, so inevitable, yet now, in the morning light, doubt clung to him like a shadow.
He sat on the couch, his crutch resting beside him, his fingers drumming against his knee. Normally, by now, he would hear the soft sounds of you moving around—your sleepy footsteps padding into the kitchen, the clatter of dishes as you made breakfast. But today, there was nothing.
His brows furrowed as he glanced at your door. Still shut.
Mingyu pushed himself up, walking over to knock softly. “Y/n?” His voice was gentle, but there was a hint of concern beneath it.
No response.
He frowned, knocking again. “Y/n, you awake?”
Silence. A familiar unease crept up his spine. Don’t tell me you already left?
He hesitated before slowly pushing the door open. And sure enough, your room was empty.
Caty was in the middle of it, lazily sprawled out on your bed, her fluffy tail flicking. The place was messier than usual—blankets half-tangled, papers scattered on your desk, as if you had rushed out in a hurry.
Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You really left without saying anything?” he mumbled to himself, glancing around the room.
Caty, now realizing she had an audience, stretched and let out a tiny chirp before hopping off the bed. She trotted towards Mingyu but got distracted halfway, swatting at a fallen pen instead.
“Caty,” Mingyu called, shaking the kibble container to get her attention. The second she heard the sound, she perked up, immediately scampering toward him. He walked to the kitchen, pouring some food into her dish, watching as she eagerly began eating.
He crouched down, gently rubbing behind her ear. “I see Y/n forgot to feed you again…” he muttered, shaking his head with a small sigh. “She was really in a rush, huh?”
Caty purred under his touch, completely unbothered by the absence. Mingyu, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in his chest.
You left without waking him up. Without a single word.
Did it have something to do with the kiss?
Mingyu didn’t like the way that thought made his stomach twist.
He exhaled heavily, leaning against the counter as Caty purred beside his hand, rubbing her head against his fingers like she had finally accepted him as an ally.
“At least you don’t hate me,” Mingyu muttered, scratching under her chin.
*
That week, Mingyu finally ditched the crutch—a massive milestone in his recovery. It felt liberating, almost like reclaiming a piece of himself he hadn’t realized he’d lost. But as he walked into the apartment, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, he noticed something else.
You were on the couch, curled up with a book, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. The sight was so... normal. A stark contrast to the avoidance act you had been pulling lately. If Mingyu counted correctly, he had seen Caty more than he had seen you this past week—a fact he wasn’t sure he wanted to categorize as progress or not.
"Hey," he greeted, setting his keys down.
You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in days, you actually smiled at him. "You're walking now," you noted, putting your book aside, your attention fully on him.
Mingyu smirked, stepping further into the room. "Not just walking," he said, twirling on the spot with exaggerated grace. "I can even ballet."
It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to break through the strange tension hanging between you two. But even as you let out a small chuckle, neither of you could ignore how much thicker the silence had become.
The kiss still lingered in the space between you, unspoken but impossible to forget.
Mingyu hesitated for a moment before finally lowering himself onto the couch beside you. He didn’t sit too close, giving you space, but he was near enough that you could feel his warmth. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken words.
He cleared his throat. "So…" He drummed his fingers on his knee, glancing at you before looking away. "About that night."
Your grip on your cup tightened slightly, but you said nothing. Mingyu caught the shift in your expression, the way your lips pressed together as if bracing yourself. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to pretend nothing had happened.
"I don’t want to pressure you or anything," he said carefully, his voice softer now. "I just… I don’t regret it, you know?" He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t want you to think it was just some impulsive thing that didn’t mean anything to me. Because it did."
Your fingers traced the rim of your cup, eyes fixed on the steam rising from your tea. "Mingyu…" You started, then stopped, as if searching for the right words.
He didn’t rush you. He just watched, waiting.
"I just didn’t expect it," you finally admitted, still not meeting his gaze. "And I don’t know what it means for us."
Mingyu nodded slowly. That was fair. You had been friends, living under the same roof, never crossing that line—until now. "I don’t know either," he admitted with a small chuckle, leaning back against the couch. "But I do know that I like you."
This time, your eyes snapped up to his. Mingyu smiled, not teasing, not playful—just honest. "And I’m okay with figuring it out together. No pressure. No rush."
He could see the conflict in your eyes, the thoughts racing through your mind. But he also saw something else—something softer, something hesitant but not entirely unwilling.
Your amusement faded as quickly as it came. You set your cup down on the table, fingers lacing together in your lap as you exhaled slowly. "Mingyu… you shouldn’t like me."
His brows furrowed, the lightness in his expression fading. "What do you mean?"
You hesitated, pressing your lips together. There was a part of you that wanted to let this happen, to let yourself believe in the warmth he was offering. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew that if he found out the truth, he would regret ever feeling this way.
"There are things about me you don’t know," you said quietly. "Things I can’t tell you."
Mingyu frowned but didn’t interrupt. He was patient—he always was with you.
You swallowed, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. "If you knew… if you found out, you’d regret this. You’d regret ever letting yourself feel that way about me."
Mingyu’s jaw tightened. "That’s not fair," he said, voice firm but gentle. "You’re deciding for me how I’d feel without even giving me a choice."
You finally looked at him, and he saw it—the fear in your eyes, the weight of something you were carrying alone. "Because I know what it would do to you," you whispered.
Mingyu shook his head. "Y/n, whatever it is, I—"
"You don’t," you cut him off, standing abruptly. "You don’t know, Mingyu. And I can’t—" You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. "I can’t let you get caught up in it."
He stood too, searching your face, his frustration evident. "You don’t get to decide that for me."
"But I have to," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "Because I’d rather be the bad guy now than let you hate me later."
Mingyu stared at you, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what you were hiding, but he knew one thing for sure—you were terrified. Not of him, but of whatever secret you were keeping.
And that only made him more certain.
"I’m not walking away," he said, his voice steady. "No matter how much you try to push me away, I’m not going anywhere."
You looked at him, eyes conflicted, torn between hope and fear. But before you could say anything, Mingyu stepped back, giving you space. "I won’t force you to tell me," he said softly. "But I hope one day, you trust me enough to let me in."
And with that, he turned and walked toward his room, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your carefully built walls cracking just a little.
*
You sat at your desk, staring at the open document on your laptop, but the words blurred together, refusing to make sense. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. Your head ached from the lack of sleep, your body felt sluggish, and your mind was stretched thin from everything—your workload, the constant deadlines, your barely functioning routine, your health that you hadn’t been taking care of, and most of all… Mingyu.
You pressed your palms against your face, exhaling shakily. Everything was piling up, suffocating you. The late nights, the skipped meals, the self-imposed isolation—it was all catching up to you, and now Mingyu, with his unwavering presence, his persistence, his feelings, was another thing you didn’t know how to handle.
You shouldn’t have let it get this far.
Your chest felt tight as you leaned back in your chair, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to look at you like that—with warmth, with patience, with something deeper that you weren’t ready to name. He wasn’t supposed to tell you he liked you. He wasn’t supposed to fight to stay when you were doing everything to push him away.
And yet… he was still here.
You knew he was in the next room, probably watching something on his phone or reading messages in the group chat. You could hear the occasional shuffling, the sound of video played on his phone. It was comforting, but also suffocating in its own way. Because you wanted to believe in the comfort, but you couldn’t afford to.
Not when you were already breaking under the weight of everything else.
You ran a hand through your hair, gripping the strands in frustration. Your schedule was a mess, your health was deteriorating because you barely had time to take care of yourself, and your work wasn’t slowing down. The pressure was relentless. And now Mingyu—Mingyu, with his steady eyes and his stubborn heart—was making it harder to keep things in check.
A part of you wanted to walk into the living room and tell him everything. To let yourself lean on someone for once. But you couldn’t.
Because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to stop. And you couldn’t afford to fall apart.
Not now.
Your breath was shallow, uneven. The weight pressing against your chest refused to ease, your hands trembling as you clutched your desk for stability. The walls of your room felt like they were closing in, suffocating you with the pressure you had been trying so hard to suppress.
No. Not now. Not this.
You pushed yourself up, pacing in an attempt to ground yourself, but your legs felt weak, and the buzzing in your head only grew louder. You needed water—maybe that would help. Maybe if you cooled down, if you just focused on something else, the panic wouldn’t consume you.
Your steps were unsteady as you walked out of your room, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as you reached for a glass. The water was cold against your lips, but even as you gulped it down, it did little to ease the storm inside you.
And then, you felt it.
The dizziness. The telltale warmth flooding through your limbs. The sensation that always preceded the shift.
No. No, no, no.
Not now. Not here. Not with Mingyu in the apartment.
You gripped the counter tighter, willing your body to stop, to fight it, but it was too late. The overwhelming sensation crashed into you, your vision blurring, your balance giving out. You barely registered the sound of the glass slipping from your fingers, shattering against the floor, before your body gave in.
The last thing you saw before everything went black was Mingyu.
Standing at his door.
Eyes wide.
Mouth slightly open.
Frozen in place.
Watching as you—
Became Caty.
*
Mingyu jolted awake, gasping for air as he found himself lying on the cold floor. His head pounded, his heart racing in his chest. What the hell just happened?
He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the moment before his eyes landed on the small figure sitting beside him.
Caty.
The white-furred feline stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, her fluffy tail curling neatly around her paws. She looked normal—just a cat, nothing out of the ordinary.
But that was the problem.
Mingyu let out a strangled, surprised noise and immediately scooted back, his body dragging against the floor as he put distance between himself and the animal. His breath was uneven as his mind scrambled for explanations.
Was it his medication? Had the lingering effects of his painkillers messed with his head? No—he hadn’t taken them in days. Was it exhaustion? A hallucination? But he had quit drinking. Why would he be seeing things now?
His eyes darted toward the kitchen. The shattered glass glistened under the dim lighting, water pooling around the broken shards. His gaze then shifted to your bedroom—wide open, empty.
He was sure you had been there.
He was sure he had seen you.
And then—
Mingyu swallowed hard, eyes flickering back to Caty.
Was it real?
Had he really seen you shrinking—morphing—into a cat?
Was Caty… you?
Mingyu swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at Caty like she might suddenly start speaking. His mind screamed at him that this wasn’t possible, but his gut told him otherwise. He had seen it—hadn’t he?
Slowly, he sat up, never taking his eyes off the small creature. He needed to confirm it somehow.
"Y/n…?" His voice was hoarse, hesitant. "If—if that’s really you, can you… meow?"
Silence.
Caty blinked once but didn’t move.
Mingyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Uh, can you—jump?" He pointed at the couch, waiting, hoping for any kind of response.
Nothing.
Caty just sat there, tail twitching slightly, ears perked.
Mingyu frowned, his frustration growing. He had to be losing his mind. "Alright, what about sitting? Oh, wait—you’re already sitting," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his temples. "Fine, then. Blink twice if you’re Y/n."
Caty blinked.
Once.
Mingyu held his breath.
Caty licked her paw and started grooming herself.
Mingyu let out a strangled groan, slumping back against the floor. "Oh my god, I’m losing it," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "This isn't real. This isn’t happening."
But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his eyes kept drifting back to Caty—who sat there, unmoving, watching him with those all-too-familiar eyes.
Mingyu sighed as he crouched down, carefully picking up the shattered glass pieces from the kitchen floor. The mess was everywhere—your discarded clothes near the counter, the spilled water, the broken glass. It felt surreal.
Above him, Caty sat perched on the kitchen counter, watching his every move. Her tail swayed lazily, but her eyes never left him. It was unsettling.
Mingyu exhaled, shaking his head as he reached for the broom. "Okay, so let’s go over this again," he muttered, mostly to himself, but also to the silent feline observer. "You were standing here. You tried to drink water, and then—bam! You turned into a cat."
Caty’s ears twitched.
Mingyu dumped the glass shards into the trash and wiped his hands on his sweats. He glanced at the pile of clothes on the floor—the ones you had been wearing just minutes ago. His face heated up at the realization.
"Oh my god, this is insane," he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He turned to Caty, pointing at her. "So all this time… you were Caty?"
Silence.
Mingyu let out a breathy laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You’ve been sleeping on the couch. Sitting on my lap. I even fed you tuna last week!" He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh my god. Oh my god."
Caty just blinked at him, expression unreadable.
Mingyu leaned against the counter, staring at her. "You know, the least you could do is react. Maybe a guilty meow? A tail flick? Something?"
Caty licked her paw and groomed her face.
Mingyu groaned again. "This is ridiculous. I—I need a drink. Wait, no, I quit drinking." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need answers."
His eyes met Caty's again, and this time, there was something different—something knowing.
"You really are Y/n, aren’t you?" he whispered.
Caty finally did something. She blinked. Twice.
Mingyu let out a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling as Caty—you—sat comfortably on his stomach. He had never been a cat person, but here he was, hosting the biggest secret of his life on his body, staring at him with those too-familiar eyes.
"This is insane," he muttered, gently poking your tiny forehead. "I should be freaking out more, right? Like… panicking, losing my mind. But no, here I am, talking to a cat—you—like this is normal."
Caty blinked slowly.
Mingyu groaned, rubbing his face. "You’re not gonna talk, huh?" He tried again, looking at you. "Maybe blink twice if you can understand me?"
You just stared at him.
Mingyu huffed. "Okay. You’re either messing with me, or you really can’t answer like this." He let his head fall back against the couch. "Either way, you’ll probably shift back soon, right?"
That thought struck him suddenly. If you turned back into a human, you’d be—Mingyu’s eyes widened. "Crap, you’re gonna need clothes!"
He carefully moved you off his stomach and onto the couch before rushing to his room. Grabbing a couple of blankets, he returned and draped them over the cushions. "Here. If you shift back while sleeping, just—just wrap yourself in these, okay?"
He pointed at the blankets and then at you. "Inside them when you sleep, alright? Caty? Y/n? Whoever you are!"
You flicked your tail, making him sigh.
"Okay, fine. Ignore me." Mingyu plopped back onto the couch, still watching you with curiosity and concern. His head was still spinning, but there was nothing he could do except wait.
The next morning, Mingyu stirred awake to the soft glow of sunlight seeping through the curtains. He stretched, muscles stiff from sleeping on the couch, before something caught his attention.
There, curled up under his blankets, was you.
Not Caty. You.
Mingyu stilled. His breath hitched as he sat up, staring at your peaceful face. The blanket was wrapped securely around you, your hair a little messy from sleep, but there was no doubt—you had shifted back.
It was real. All of it.
Mingyu leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. "Holy shit."
Caty had been you all this time.
*
You sat on the couch, a human-sized bundle of blankets, while Mingyu stood in front of you like a detective who had just uncovered the most absurd case of his life. His arms were crossed, his jaw slightly dropped, and his eyes were scanning you as if expecting you to sprout whiskers at any moment.
"So… you are Caty?" he asked slowly, as if hoping he had misheard himself.
You nodded, peeking up at him from the cocoon of warmth.
"You shift into a cat," he continued, his voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. "Am I right?"
Another nod. This time, you kept your gaze firmly on the coffee table.
"So you're human… but you can also turn into a cat?"
You nodded again, bracing yourself.
Mingyu opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—like a fish trying to form words but failing. And then, as if his brain short-circuited, he let out a loud, exasperated groan and ruffled his hair so aggressively it looked like he’d been caught in a wind tunnel.
"You should’ve just told me it was all a dream!" he burst out, pacing the living room. "Or that I was hallucinating! That I was seeing things! Y/n, what the hell?! How—why—how does a human just shrink into a—into a cat?!"
"I'm sorry," you mumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself like they could somehow shield you from his meltdown.
Mingyu let out another deep breath, his hands on his hips. He turned away for a second, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "I quit drinking for this?" before whipping back around to face you.
"Okay, wait. You said it happens when you're stressed?"
You gave a small, pitiful nod.
Mingyu blinked, as if this somehow made less sense than before. His brows knitted together in deep thought before he squinted at you suspiciously.
"So… all this time, when I was talking to Caty… was that you? Were you ignoring me on purpose?"
Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically. "No! That was Caty! I—I can't control myself when I shift. It’s like… I become the cat version of me, but I don’t remember anything when I change back."
Mingyu opened his mouth again, closed it, rubbed his temples, and then let out a long sigh as he dropped onto the couch beside you.
"This is insane," he muttered, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to his problems.
You swallowed hard, watching him carefully. He looked like he was either going to burst into another round of questions or possibly combust.
Then, after a long, heavy pause, Mingyu exhaled deeply, shook his head, and mumbled, "Of course the girl I like turns into a damn cat."
Mingyu sat there in stunned silence, his brain slowly piecing everything together like a detective in a crime drama—except the crime was you being a cat.
He turned to you, eyes narrowing in deep concentration. “Wait a minute.”
You tensed. “What?”
His gaze scanned you like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, his mouth fell open as realization hit him like a truck. “Oh my God.”
You blinked. “…What?”
Mingyu shot up from the couch, pointing at you like he had just solved the biggest mystery of the century. “It all makes sense now!”
You pulled the blankets tighter, suddenly very nervous. “…What does?”
“All of it! Your hobbies—meditating, reading, and drinking tea—you do everything to reduce stress. And your sleeping habits!” He started pacing. “You nap all the time, and you hate waking up early. You curl up in the weirdest positions when you sleep—like a cat!”
Your jaw dropped slightly. “I—I do not—”
“Oh, you do!” Mingyu pointed an accusatory finger. “And your attitude—how you act all distant sometimes, but the next moment you’re affectionate? Total cat behavior! And don’t even get me started on how you disappear for hours and then show up like nothing happened!”
You sank deeper into the blankets, heart pounding. He was way too good at this.
Mingyu continued, voice getting louder with every revelation. “You love warm places! You always complain when it’s too cold, and you sit next to the heater like your life depends on it!” He gasped. “And the hair! The random strands of hair I keep finding on my clothes—it was you!”
“I mean—technically, it was still my human hair—”
“And the way you stare at me sometimes, like you’re silently judging me but won’t tell me why! That’s such a cat thing to do!”
You opened your mouth to argue but… well. He wasn’t wrong.
Mingyu groaned, running his hands down his face. “How did I not see this sooner?”
You bit your lip, guilt creeping in. “I—I wanted to tell you, but—”
He spun around, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I bathed you.”
You winced. “Oh. Really?”
He pointed at you again. “I carried you like a baby after you fell asleep on my lap! I let you sleep in my bed!”
“…You must had volunteered that one.”
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE A REGULAR CAT, Y/N!”
You shrank under his intense stare, whispering, “I was a regular cat at the time…”
Mingyu let out a strangled noise, like his brain was overheating. He collapsed back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I need a minute. Or maybe ten.”
You hesitated before mumbling, “…You still fed me tuna.”
Mingyu groaned into his hands. “I fed you tuna.”
Silence stretched between you before he finally peeked at you through his fingers. “Okay. So you turn into a cat when you’re stressed. But why? How?”
You sighed, tugging at the blanket. “It’s… complicated.”
Mingyu exhaled sharply. “Y/n, everything about this situation is complicated.” He tilted his head at you, still processing. “But somehow… it still makes sense.”
You blinked. “It does?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s weird, but it’s you. And honestly, the cat thing explains a lot.”
You stared at him, heart stuttering in your chest. After all this—after watching you shift, realizing you had basically been living a double life, learning he had bathed and fed you tuna—he was still sitting here, talking to you like you were just… you.
Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the worst-case scenario after all.
*
From that day on, Mingyu became obsessed with monitoring your stress levels.
It started small—like when you reached for your morning coffee, and he immediately snatched it away.
“Caffeine increases stress,” he said, squinting at you like a scientist observing a volatile experiment. “You could shift if you get too anxious.”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Mingyu, I won’t turn into a cat just because I drink coffee.”
He didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, Y/n. You shift when you're stressed. What if caffeine speeds up the process?”
“Mingyu—”
He grabbed a tea bag and handed it to you. “Just to be safe.”
You glared. “I don't want tea.”
“You don't want shifting in front of me more.”
You wanted to argue, but… fair point.
Then it escalated.
Every time you sighed even slightly too heavily, he’d whip around like you had just announced you were about to combust.
“Are you stressed? Are you shifting? Should I get a blanket?”
“I just sighed, Mingyu.”
“Yeah, but was it a regular sigh or a cat-inducing sigh?”
“Oh my God.”
At one point, he even started doing random check-ins.
“You good?” he’d ask, mid-lunch, mouth full of food.
“Yes, Mingyu.”
“You sure? No tiny paws incoming?”
“I swear to God.”
Even when you were peacefully reading, he'd suddenly lean in, staring suspiciously at you. “You seem tense.”
“I am tense,” you deadpanned, “because you keep asking if I’m tense.”
“So you are stressed?”
“Mingyu.”
He hummed in thought. “Should I get some chicken? Maybe chicken will help.”
You threw a pillow at his face.
And the worst part? You actually started feeling stressed because of him.
At work? You were fine. Dealing with your schedule? Manageable. But Mingyu constantly watching you, gasping dramatically whenever you so much as blinked too hard?
That was starting to become a real problem.
One night, after yet another "Are you feeling shifty?" question, you groaned and flopped onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow. “Mingyu, I swear, if I shift into a cat, it’s going to be your fault.”
Mingyu gasped. “So I am stressing you out?”
“Yes!” You shot up, glaring at him. “You’re so paranoid that I’m going to turn into a cat that you’re actually making it more likely to happen!”
His eyes widened like he had just uncovered a terrible truth. “Oh my God.”
“Oh my God, what?”
Mingyu clasped his hands together. “So what you’re saying is… I’m your trigger?”
You blinked. “That’s not—”
His face lit up. “Does this mean I have power over your shifting?”
You groaned, throwing yourself back onto the couch. “I give up.”
Mingyu, now grinning like a kid who had discovered a new toy, leaned over you. “Don’t worry, Y/n. I promise to use my powers wisely.”
You peeked up at him. “If you ever use this as an excuse to mess with me—”
“I would never,” he said, hand over his heart. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “But, you know… if I ever need a cute little furball to do my bidding—”
“Mingyu.”
He laughed, dodging the second pillow you threw at him.
Mingyu was out grocery shopping when something in the pet accessories aisle caught his eye—a delicate, silver cat collar with a tiny pendant hanging from it.
He picked it up, examining the details. It wasn’t just any collar; it had an adjustable strap and a small locket that could be opened to store a tiny piece of paper inside.
"You can adjust the size, sir," a salesperson said, approaching him with a polite smile. She took the collar from his hands and demonstrated how it worked.
Mingyu nodded, intrigued. It was simple but elegant—something you would probably like.
"How old is your cat?" the salesperson asked casually.
Mingyu blinked. Well. Technically, you and Caty were the same age, and there was no way in hell he was about to blurt out, Oh, she’s 27, actually.
"Uh… four?" he answered, hoping that was a reasonable number.
The salesperson beamed. "Oh, how sweet! This locket is great for adventurous cats. You can write their name inside—or even a personal contact number, just in case they like to wander off."
Mingyu nearly laughed. You liked to wander off. You loved adventure. If anyone needed a tag in case they went missing, it was you.
As ridiculous as it was, he suddenly found himself imagining slipping this around your neck—not just when you were Caty, but even as yourself. It would be a little secret between the two of you, a playful reminder that he knew your real secret.
Yeah. This would make a great gift.
Grinning to himself, he grabbed the collar and headed toward the cashier.
*
During dinner, Mingyu suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table toward you.
“I got you something,” he announced, leaning back with a smug grin.
You looked at him suspiciously before picking up the box and opening it. The moment your eyes landed on the contents, you froze.
"You got me what?"
"A collar," Mingyu repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
You blinked at him. “Mingyu. I’m human.”
He nodded, completely unfazed. “And also a cat.”
You groaned, closing the box with an exaggerated sigh. "Not this again."
“Hey, listen—it's adjustable! And I got one with a little pendant so I could write my number inside. Y'know, in case you ever shift outside and get lost.”
You shot him a deadpan look. “You seriously think I’m going to wake up in an alley one day and some stranger will check my collar for your number?”
Mingyu shrugged. “It’s just a precaution. Plus, it was pretty expensive, so you better appreciate it.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Where did you even find this?”
“Hm…” He scratched his chin, pretending to recall. “You know, at—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—E-Mart.”
You let out a scoff. “So you just casually browse the pet aisle for gifts now?”
“Only for my special cat-human hybrid roommate.”
Rolling your eyes, you tried to push the box back toward him, but Mingyu was already reaching over. Mingyu’s fingers brushed against your skin as he adjusted the collar, the cool metal of the clasp briefly pressing against the nape of your neck before he fastened it in place. His touch was light—careful, almost reverent—as if he didn’t want to startle you, as if this ridiculous gesture somehow held more weight than either of you had expected.
When he finally leaned back, his gaze lingered on you, a slow smile stretching across his face. There was something different in the way he looked at you—not just teasing amusement, but something softer, something unreadable.
The air between you shifted, quiet and thick with unspoken things. The usual banter was missing, the jokes fading into something more uncertain. Mingyu wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smirking. He was just looking at you, his brown eyes warm, thoughtful, studying you in a way that made your pulse stutter for a second.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Your breath hitched.
It was just a word, a casual compliment, but something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or the way his gaze softened ever so slightly, like he had never really looked at you like this before. Like he was seeing something new—something more.
You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the collar resting against your skin, the weight of it foreign yet oddly grounding. “It’s—” Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. “It’s just a collar, Mingyu.”
He grinned, the spell breaking just slightly, but his eyes never lost that unreadable glint. “Yeah. Just a collar.”
And yet, as you sat there, your fingers brushing the pendant absentmindedly, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed. Even the air felt different—charged, expectant.
You had spent so long keeping a distance, so long making sure that Mingyu never got too close. But now, sitting here with his warmth still lingering near you, with the way his gaze held just a fraction too long, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—it was already too late.
The moment Mingyu pulled your wrist, you barely had time to react before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t rushed or playful like you would have expected—it was slow, deep, and entirely consuming. His hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as he leaned into you, his body warm and solid against yours.
Without thinking, your arms lifted, slipping around his neck as he crouched down to meet you properly. The chair beneath you felt distant, the dinner forgotten. All you could focus on was the way his lips moved against yours—gentle yet insistent, like he was memorizing every second of it.
His fingers curled slightly against your waist, and a shiver ran down your spine. There was no hesitation in the way he kissed you, no uncertainty—just quiet, deliberate affection. It wasn’t like the first time, the one that had left you confused and shaken. This time, there was no doubt.
Mingyu was kissing you because he wanted to. Because he meant it.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you slightly breathless. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your shirt.
Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt all too clearly.
“You…” You swallowed, trying to gather your thoughts, but the words felt tangled in your throat.
Mingyu exhaled a soft laugh, his breath fanning against your skin. “Yeah.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost tender. “Me.”
Your heart pounded, but this time, you didn’t want to run. Not when his hands were still holding you close. Not when his lips were still tingling against yours. Not when, for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you were supposed to be.
The moment your fingers tightened around the collar of his shirt and you pulled him back in, Mingyu knew—dinner was over. The food, the conversation, the playful banter about the ridiculous collar—it all faded into the background.
His lips met yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation. Mingyu took it as a sign, as permission, as everything he had been waiting for. His hands moved instinctively, one sliding up to cup your face, the other pressing against your back, pulling you closer. The chair scraped slightly against the floor as you shifted, molding into him, deepening the kiss like neither of you could get enough.
Mingyu wasn’t gentle anymore—not because he wanted to rush, but because he needed you, and he was finally letting himself show it. The way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way your breaths mingled between kisses, the way your body leaned into his—it sent his heart into overdrive.
He barely registered how he had lifted you, how your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you away from the table. The scent of dinner was still in the air, but all he could focus on was you. The way your lips never left his, the way your hands explored, the way his name came out in whispers between breaths.
By the time he reached his bedroom, both of you were already lost in each other, in the heat, in the pull, in the undeniable truth that this had been building for far too long.
Mingyu wasn’t thinking anymore. He was feeling. And right now, he felt like he needed you more than anything else in the world.
Mingyu’s breath was warm against your skin as he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your cheek before trailing down to your jaw. His voice was barely above a whisper, but every word sent a shiver through your body.
“I like you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I want you… I need you.”
Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it. His words weren’t just words—they were filled with something raw, something real. The weight of his body against yours, the way his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on your skin, the way his gaze held yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away—it was overwhelming.
You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Mingyu noticed, his lips curving into a soft, almost teasing smile as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Are you nervous?”
You exhaled, trying to steady yourself, but the truth was, it wasn’t just nerves. It was him. The way he made you feel—like he could unravel you with just a look, like he was seeing all of you and still wanting more.
Mingyu leaned in again, his forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with restraint.
Your breath hitched, panic creeping into your veins as your body tensed beneath him. The warmth of Mingyu’s touch, the weight of his body pressing into yours—it was too much. Not in a bad way, but in a way that sent your heartbeat into overdrive, your nerves firing off alarms you couldn’t ignore.
You could feel it happening.
The shift.
Your skin prickled, a deep sensation rolling through your bones, telling you that your body was about to betray you at the worst possible moment.
“Mingyu—” you gasped, trying to warn him, trying to push against his chest, but he was too lost in you. His lips dragged over the sensitive skin of your neck, down to your collarbone, his grip firm as he held you in place, his breath heavy with desire.
“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with emotion.
Don’t say that, Mingyu… You clenched your eyes shut, your head spinning. Your stomach twisted, your blood rushed too fast, too hot. It was coming. It was coming.
You barely managed to shove at his shoulder before it happened.
Your world tilted. Your limbs curled inward. The familiar dizziness hit you like a freight train, and before you could even process it—
Poof.
The weight of the blankets suddenly felt ten times heavier. The warmth of Mingyu’s body was gone.
And in his place?
A very, very stunned man, now lying chest-down on the mattress, his arms empty where you had just been.
“...What the—?” Mingyu blinked, slowly lifting himself up, eyes searching the space where you had been seconds ago.
And then, finally, his gaze landed on the small bundle of fur now tangled in his sheets.
Silence.
Pure, deafening silence.
Mingyu sat there for a long moment, his brain clearly short-circuiting. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled, voice flat.
“You have to be kidding me.”
*
The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stirred awake, your body stretching instinctively against the soft sheets—only to realize, with a jolt, that you were naked. Your breath hitched as your fingers clenched around the blanket, pulling it tighter around you. The air smelled like Mingyu—like warmth, like home.
Then, a voice, teasing and low—
"Awake, kitty cat?"
Your head snapped toward the doorway, where Mingyu stood leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching you with barely contained amusement. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his smirk told you everything.
Your mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing you remembered—Mingyu, his hands, his lips, the way your body reacted to him, the way your nerves got the best of you—oh god.
Mingyu pushed off the doorframe and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. Instinctively, your arms tightened around the blanket, shielding yourself from the weight of his stare.
"I still can't believe it," he mused, shaking his head. "Caty really did that." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before giving you a pointed look. "Do you have any idea how traumatizing it is to be cockblocked by a cat? A cat that just so happens to be you?"
You swallowed, cheeks burning.
Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to gently tug the blanket away from your face. His fingers brushed through your hair, a quiet tenderness in the way he touched you.
Then, his voice dropped, turning serious. "After last night…" He hesitated, his thumb grazing your temple. "You know we can’t just go back to being friends, right?"
Your heart pounded in your chest.
"I like you, Y/n," he confessed, his tone unwavering. "So much that I wanted you. And I could feel it last night—you wanted me too. But you were nervous." His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm, grounding. "And then you shifted."
Shame curled in your stomach, and you lowered your gaze. "I'm sorry…" you whispered.
But Mingyu shook his head. "No, don’t be sorry. I get it now." He exhaled, his hand moving down to grasp yours. "But please—tell me you want this too. Tell me we’re together."
The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just asking for an answer—he was asking for you. And you knew, despite everything, despite the chaos, despite the impossible nature of what you were—you wanted him too.
"But Mingyu… I'm a cat," you whispered, your fingers gripping the sheets tighter. "I can shift anytime—just like last night. And..." Your voice wavered as you swallowed hard. "I can't even communicate with you when Caty takes over. You don’t understand how—how frustrating that is. How helpless it feels."
Mingyu sighed, his fingers tightening slightly around yours as if afraid you'd slip away—not just figuratively, but literally. His brows furrowed as he looked at you, deep in thought, but there was no hesitation in his expression.
"So?" He said simply, tilting his head.
You blinked. "So?"
"So what if you’re a cat sometimes?" He shrugged, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I mean, yeah, it’s insane. But you think that’s enough to make me not want you?"
You bit your lip, eyes flickering downward. "Mingyu… I shifted right in the middle of—of that last night. That’s not normal. I can’t control it. What if it happens again?"
Mingyu dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before leaning closer. "Then we deal with it," he said, voice softer now. "We figure it out. And maybe next time, we make sure you’re not stressed, huh?"
You frowned. "You stress me out most of the time."
Mingyu gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me?! No way."
You shot him a flat look, but he only grinned, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Look," he continued, "it’s a little complicated, sure. But Y/n, I like you. Whether you’re human or a cat, whether you ignore me as Caty or let me kiss you as Y/n—I like you."
Your breath hitched at his words, your heart tightening in your chest.
"Besides," he added, flashing you a lopsided smile, "if you shift again, I’ll just put your little collar on. That way, if you run away, at least people will know you belong to me."
Your mouth fell open. "Mingyu!"
He burst into laughter as you smacked his arm, but the warmth in his eyes never faded. You wanted to argue, to tell him how ridiculous this all was, how dangerous it could be. But the way he looked at you—like shifting into a cat in the middle of making out was just another small inconvenience, like it didn’t change the way he felt about you—made you wonder.
Maybe this wasn’t so impossible after all.
*
Mingyu came home after practice, greeted by an unsettling silence. The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow from the city lights seeping through the curtains. He stepped inside, his muscles aching from the long day, and made his way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he changed into his pajamas, slipped on his wedding band, and went to find you.
It was already past ten, but the quiet felt unusual. You were a night owl, always awake, always up to something. Yet tonight, not even the hum of the TV or the soft clatter of your late-night snacking filled the space.
“Babe, where are you?” Mingyu’s voice echoed slightly in the stillness, laced with growing concern. He checked his phone, scrolling through his messages—he had texted you earlier, letting you know he’d be late because of practice. No reply.
A frown settled on his face. "Did she go out?" he muttered, not liking the idea one bit. The thought of you wandering around alone, pregnant, made his stomach twist.
It still amazed him how much life had changed. When he first met you, he never imagined falling this hard. But after months together, he knew—he knew—you were the one. Through all the ups and downs, his knee surgery, his return to the team, he always came back to you. Marrying you was the easiest decision he’d ever made.
Meeting your family, however, had been chaotic. He would never forget the way your father—so nervous about meeting his future son-in-law—had turned into a cat right in front of him. Then there was your brother, Wonwoo, who had also shifted into a sleek black cat the moment he found out you were pregnant before marriage. Mingyu had nearly lost it. But somehow, after all that madness, things smoothed over, and now, he was officially part of the cat family.
And now, with you seven months pregnant, he was counting down the days until he could hold his baby girl. Though, he did have a sneaking suspicion that one day, she too might randomly turn into a cat.
But that was fine. Mingyu had long since accepted that cats—especially you—were cute.
"Baby?" His voice carried through the apartment as he checked the master bedroom. Empty. The nursery? Empty. His frown deepened. Where the heck is she?
Feeling increasingly uneasy, Mingyu perched on the barstool and dialed your number. The moment he hit call, he heard a faint rustling noise. His head snapped toward the pantry.
A breath of relief escaped him. There you are.
But when he opened the pantry door, he didn’t find you.
Instead, he found Caty.
A very pregnant Caty.
Mingyu groaned, rubbing his temples as his gaze shifted to your phone and the pile of clothes discarded beside her.
"Not this again," he sighed, exasperated but unsurprised.
Shaking his head, he scooped Caty into his arms, along with your things, cradling the small, fluffy body of his very human wife-turned-cat.
"You just had to stress yourself out, didn’t you?" he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Caty’s head as he carried you back to bed.
“What was it this time? Did you watch a sad movie? Did Wonwoo say something weird again? Or was it me? It’s me, isn’t it?”
Caty—you—only flicked an ear in response.
Mingyu huffed, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming,” he muttered, glancing down at your small, round belly. “You’re literally seven months pregnant, Y/n. You can’t just shift like this every time you panic.”
But deep down, he knew you couldn’t control it. The stress, the hormones, the whole being-pregnant-and-turning-into-a-cat thing—it was a lot.
Mingyu gently laid you down on his pillow and covered you with the blanket, careful not to make you feel trapped. Then, he sat beside you, rubbing his face tiredly.
“We really need to figure out a way to stop this from happening,” he mumbled to himself. Then, he side-eyed you. “What if you shift during labor? Am I gonna have to explain to the doctor why there’s a cat in the maternity ward?”
Caty blinked.
“Oh my god,” Mingyu groaned, flopping onto the bed. “I’m gonna be a dad and a cat owner at the same time. This is a nightmare.”
Despite his complaints, his hand found its way back to stroking your fur. He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “At least you’re cute.”
He yawned, exhaustion from practice finally catching up to him. He wasn’t sure when you’d shift back, but until then, he’d just have to wait.
“Just don’t go into labor while you’re still a cat, okay?” he mumbled sleepily. “I don’t think I can handle that.”
With that, Mingyu let his eyes drift shut, one hand still resting protectively over you.
*
Mingyu woke up to the sound of soft shuffling beside him. His arm instinctively reached out, landing not on soft fur but warm skin. His brows furrowed as his fingers flexed against the familiar shape of your waist. Slowly, he cracked one eye open.
And there you were—back in your human form, sitting up in bed, stretching with a yawn, his oversized pajama top slipping off one shoulder.
Mingyu blinked blearily. Then, his mind caught up.
“Oh, thank God.” He groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back. “I thought I’d have to raise a kitten instead of a baby.”
You scoffed, pulling the blanket over yourself. “I was planning to wake up in human form before giving birth, you know.”
Mingyu sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. “Yeah, well, forgive me for being concerned when my pregnant wife disappears and a pregnant cat magically appears in her place!” He dropped his hands to his lap, staring at you pointedly. “You really gotta stop doing this to me, babe.”
You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” Mingyu sighed, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, thumb brushing against your cheek. “You scared me, though.”
Your eyes softened, fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves. “I’m sorry…”
Mingyu exhaled, then suddenly pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
“You should be,” he muttered against your hair, his grip tightening. “I lost at least five years of my life because of you.”
You giggled, snuggling into his embrace. “You’ll be fine. You still have, like, a hundred years left.”
Mingyu snorted, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands rested on your belly, thumbs rubbing small circles over the bump. “I guess we should start preparing for the fact that she might inherit your little condition.”
You groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. “I really hope she doesn’t.”
Mingyu leaned on one elbow, gazing down at you with a knowing look. His fingers traced absentminded circles over your belly as he asked, “Is that what you were stressing about last night? The fact that she might inherit the cat DNA?”
You hesitated, then sighed, covering your face with your hands. “Okay, maybe…”
Mingyu let out a short laugh, amused but not mocking. “Babe.” He pried your hands away gently so he could see your face. “You really think that’s gonna make me love her any less?”
You pouted. “It’s not just that, Mingyu… What if she suddenly shifts for the first time at daycare? Or what if she can’t control it, just like me? What if—”
Mingyu pressed a finger to your lips. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”
You blinked up at him, and his expression softened. “You think I haven’t already prepared myself for this? I married into a literal cat family, Y/n. I knew what I was signing up for.”
You exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift from your chest. “You’re really okay with it?”
Mingyu grinned. “Are you kidding? I think it’d be adorable if our kid turns into a tiny furball. She’s gonna be the cutest kitten and the cutest baby.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, some of your worries melting away. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re stuck with me,” Mingyu teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, with a smirk, he added, “But for real—should we get her a tiny collar? Just in case?”
“Mingyu!”
Your husband only laughed as you smacked his arm, his affection and lightheartedness making it impossible for you to stay worried for long.
Mingyu smirked, leaning over you, his nose brushing against yours. “Well… if she does, at least she’ll be a very cute kitten.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as Mingyu kissed you softly, his warmth melting away the last remnants of your stress.
summary: in which, byeol gets a new career in her idol life. then she realizes that this would be the perfect time to get back at the boys for their pranks.
word count: 2.8k words
genre: fake angst and pure fluff
seventeen x 14th female member oc
masterlist۰࣪⭑ | byeol’s acting career | written works
[AUGUST 21, 2019]
BYEOL WASN’T SURE WHAT SHE WAS ABOUT TO WITNESS AS SHE MADE HER WAY TO THE CONFERENCE ROOM, FOLLOWING HER MANAGER. She was called earlier by her manager to meet with Pledis CEO in the conference room. She wasn’t sure why she was called, and was immediately pulled out in the middle of practice.
This didn’t go slightly with the boys as each of them looked at her with worried looks on their eyes. They knew that getting called in would be discussing about a major good news, or worse an issue. Seungcheol was even willing to follow her, to at least negotiate on behalf of her just incase an issue resurfaced— it wasn’t exactly their first rodeo in that aspect.
Thankfully, her manager, YoungHwan, reassured them that it wouldn’t be necessary as he will be accompanying her all the way.
Byeol didn’t realize that they had reached the conference room until a hand was placed on her shoulder, immediately catching her attention. Her manager smiled softly down at the girl, noticing the faint worry lines on her forehead.
“Are you sure this isn’t serious? Because I swear I haven’t done anything! If I was seen in a dating scandal that would be totally impossible since I’ve been mostly with the boys.” She rambler her thoughts out, looking at her manager with wide eyes. Even though she was already 19 years old, she still look the same the young twelve year old Hanbyeol that they all know.
“It’s going to be fine. I’ll be by your side.” Younghwan reassuringly smiled.
Byeol took in a deep breath before doing her “sharpay evans” warm up drills just to bring confidence to her. “Prr! Prrr! Ma! Ma!” She said.
“Okay, I’m ready now.” She nodded to herself before knocking at the conference room.
Byeol sat stiff as a board with Hwan’s relaxed stature sitting down next to her. She was already sweating bullets under Wonwoo’s jean jacket that she had borrowed prior to the start of the practice.
From across her, sat the CEO of Pledis, Kim Yoonseo. He smiled widly at the girl.
“Hanbyeol-ah, how have you been doing?” He warmly asked.
“Oh, I’m doing well. H-how about you, Sah Jang-nim?” She asked, wearing a weary smile.
“Good. Good. Very good.” He nodded before clearing out his throat. “I called you in here because I wanted to discuss something. I’ve received some news from the show that you’ve auditioned recently.”
Byeol’s head slightly tilted, completely stuck in thought before eyes widened in realization. She sat up more relaxed than before, “Yeah. I auditioned but I wasn’t sure if I did really good in my audition tape.” She said, chuckling awkwardly afterwards
“Did any of the boys know about it?” He asked.
Byeol laughed, “None of them know yet. They might just laugh if I told them any sooner.”
The CEO smiled, folding his hands together. “Well, lucky for you, we got great news.”
“You’ll be starring as one of the main cast in a new show called the Penthouse.”
The girl narrowed her eyes a bit, glancing back at her grinning manager to her boss. “You mean to tell me…?”
The CEO chuckled and nodded in confirmation. “Yes, you got the role of Bae Rona.”
Byeol immediately covered her mouth out of excitement. “Woah— really? This is amazing.” She exclaimed, accidentally letting out a small squeal of happiness— which she of course apologized afterwards.
The CEO just laughed and waved his hand. “I’m glad that you’re happy. I’ve already forwarded the details to your manager who will be handling your schedules.”
“Thank you so much Sah Jang-nim! I’ll definitely bring honor to our company.” The girl enthusiastically said, bowing a bit before shaking the man’s hand.
Byeol stepped out of the office with a smile she couldn’t quite hide, even if she tried to press her lips together.
Her chest still felt light, almost like she was floating.
“I got it,” she said, her voice coming out softer than she expected as she looked at Hwan. “I actually got it.”
Hwan glanced at her from the side, a small amused smile forming as he nodded. “You did. They were quite impress with your emotions during the audition.
She let out a breathy laugh and ran a hand through her hair, pacing once along the hallway before stopping in front of the glass wall. Her reflection stared back at her, wide eyed and still in disbelief.
“I’m going to act,” she murmured, almost to herself, as if repeating it would make it more real to her. It has always been her dream to be an actress.
Byeol swiveled around, glancing up at him with expectant but mischievous look on her face. Hwan slightly stepped back, already knowing what she had in mind.
Before she could even say anything, he already said the word ‘no’ at her way.
The girl whined, pouting at his words. “Waeeeeee? I haven’t even said anything!” she said, playfully poking at his sides just so she could tickle him.
He stared down at her in amusement, not really getting tickled since he didn’t have those ticklish sides. “I know that you’re planning on doing something mischievous, which is why I don’t want to be in any part you’re planning to do.”
Byeol clasped her hands together in front of her, tilting her head slightly as she gave him a hopeful smile. “Just hear me out,” she said. “I just want to prank them!”
“No,” he repeated, firmer this time.
“What if we don’t tell them right away?” she suggested, her tone far too innocent to be trusted.
Younghwan stared at her, unimpressed. “Still no.”
“What if we make it seem like something bad happened first?” she added, her eyes practically sparkling now.
“Absolutely not,” he replied without hesitation.
She took a small step closer, lowering her voice like she was negotiating something serious. “Younghwan oppa! Just for a few minutes. I’ll fix it right away,” she insisted, swinging her hand in a swirly motion like bibbidi-bobbidi- boo.
“You know your older brothers wouldn’t like that prank,” Hwan muttered, already rubbing his temple.
“They’ll just laugh, Oppa,” she said quickly. “Just act like my contract is ending and I have to leave the group!”
“They won’t definitely laugh at that idea,” he shot back.
“They will,” she countered, a grin slowly breaking through. “Just trust me.”
Hwan let out a long sigh, clearly losing the battle. “I’m not taking responsibility,” he warned.
“That’s fine,” she said immediately, already smiling wider. She gave her a salute, “I promise this will be quick.”
The sound of music pulsed through the practice room even before the door opened.
Inside, the members were still dancing, their movements sharp despite the exhaustion written all over them.
Byeol paused just outside, taking a quick breath.
“Serious Byeol mode on,” she whispered under her breath, trying to wipe the smile off her face. She looked at her manager and swatted him softly by the arm. “You should do it too! You look too relaxed for someone breaking devastating news to them!”
“This isn’t going to work.” He said with a deadpanned voice.
He glanced at her. “You’re going to laugh.” He taunted.
“I won’t,” she insisted, though the twitch of her lips said otherwise. Younghwan just sighed, already tired from this. He grabbed the door and slid it open to reveal the boys going over through the steps for their upcoming comeback.
The music cut abruptly. The boys turned towards the door, smiling softly at the sight of their maknae being back.
Seungkwan lowered the volume and turned toward them, grabbing a towel. “You’re back,” he said casually before narrowing his eyes. “Why do you both look like that?”
Byeol said nothing.
She stood near the entrance, hands clasped tightly, her gaze lowered just enough to make it noticeable. Joshua, who was nearest to her, placed a hand behind her back. He sensed that there was something wrong from her quietness.
That’s when Younghwan decided to step in and continue the act. His tone shifted into something serious.
“We need to talk,” he said.
The room stilled almost immediately. The boys glanced at each other, sensing the seriousness behind his voice.
Seungcheol straightened, his attention fully locked in. “What is it?” he asked, his voice steady but alert.
Hwan didn’t hesitate.
“Byeol will be leaving for a while,” he stated.
The words landed heavily.
Joshua frowned slightly, glancing between them. He nervously let out a laugh as majority of the people in the room started quieten down. “Leaving for schedules?” he asked carefully.
Younghwan shook his head once. “No.”
A faint tension crept into Seungcheol’s expression. “Then what do you mean?” he pressed.
“She’ll be gone for a while,” Younghwan repeated. “The ceo has officially stated that she won’t be continuing her contract with this group.”
The practice room suddenly quietened down, only hearing the faint sound from the air conditioning unit. Byeol almost laughed at each of their horrified faces when her manager broke out the news.
“Ah, sorry I think I’m have a hearing problem.” Woozi said, letting out a nervous laugh.
Joshua frowned deeply, glancing briefly at his team to Byeol’s way. “That’s impossible we just recently renewed.”
Minghao crossed his arms together, “Why would they do that? It wouldn’t make sense.”
This erupted complains from the boys, overlapping each other’s voices as they voiced out their concerns.
“No,” he said firmly, already turning. “This isn’t right.
“Hyung—“ Dino tried to speak, eyes brimming with worry.
“I’m going to the CEO.” Seungcheol continued, already turning. He worriedly glanced at Byeol, who looked at him in with the mixed of disbelief and sadness.
“They don’t get to decide that to their own.” His voice tone snapped her out of her thoughts.
“Hyung, maybe you’re thinking out of proportion—” Mingyu called out, reaching for him.
“No Gyu, they can’t just decide that,” Seungcheol continued, shrugging him off. “She’s part of the team.”
Before he could even march out of the room, a snort came out from her way. She quickly covered her mouth, bending slightly as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m sorry,” she said between laughs, though it only made it worse.
“Your faces— it’s too funny!” She cackled, her british accent showing through her english.
The room went quiet again, stunned at what they’re seeing. She was basically laughing at the most timing. She was practically getting kicked out of the company!
Seungkwan blinked, completely thrown off. “She’s laughing,” he said slowly, as if confirming it out loud.
Hoshi frowned, studying her. “This is not normal,” he muttered.
“This must be her way of coping with the news,” Dokyeom added, nodding seriously. “It’s okay byeol-ah, just let it out. It must be the stress.”
This even made things funnier for Byeol. She basically used her manager to hold onto him.
Seungcheol turned back, his brows drawn together in confusion. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, clearly not amused. He was definitely not happy that this situation was taken not seriously by her. “This is a serious news.”
Byeol shook her head, still trying to breathe. “I can’t— I’m sorry—” she managed, her voice breaking into another laugh.
Younghwan finally stepped in, looking mildly exasperated. “You’re enjoying this too much,” he muttered before facing the group again.
“She is leaving,” he said, his tone firm enough to snap their attention back. The tension returned instantly.
“But it’s just going to be just for a while,” he continued. “She’s been cast in a upcoming drama.”
A pause followed.
Wonwoo blinked. “A drama?” he repeated.
Byeol straightened, lowering her hands as a bright smile finally broke through. “I got one of the major roles in the show,” she admitted. “I’m going to be an actress.
For a second, no one moved. Then everything exploded at once.
“WHAT?!” Seungkwan shouted as he rushed forward, nearly tripping over his own feet.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “You scared me!” he complained loudly, squeezing her.
Dokyeom joined immediately, pulling both of them into a hug. “I thought you were leaving for real,” he said, his voice half-panicked, half-relieved.
“I almost cried,” he added, pouting.
“You always cry,” Seungkwan shot back, though he didn’t let go of the girl.
“This time it was serious,” Dokyeom argued.
Byeol laughed, hugging them both. “I said I’m sorry,” she said, still catching her breath.
Before she could step back, Jeonghan pulled her into another hug.
“You’re really something,” he murmured, his voice quieter now as he held her a little tighter than usual. “Don’t do that again.”
“You’ll forgive me,” she said lightly.
He pulled back just enough to give her a look. “I might not.” He half threatened, cracking a small smirk. Then he hugged her again anyway.
The others quickly followed, surrounding her in a messy group hug.
Mingyu’s arms nearly crushed everyone as he joined, laughing. Joshua reached in with a warm smile, while Dino squeezed in from the side. Even Wonwoo gave her a small pat on the head, his lips curving slightly before he was pulled closer by the others.
Woozi was extremely relieved that his co-producer wasn’t going to leave the group. He would’ve died from a heart attack if that ever happens. Hoshi, Vernon, and Minghao were all ecstatic with news. All of them were truly proud and excited for her achievement.
Jun, who had prior experience with acting, was extremely happy to learn about the news of her pursuing acting. Back in the their training days, she often discussed her childhood dream of becoming an actress.
“Congratulations, byeol-ah!” Jun said, hugging her side.
“Why didn’t you tell us? I could’ve given you an advice.” Jun half joked.
Byeol cracked a smile, “I wanted to make sure that I got in before telling you guys.” She said.
“Wah! Our byeol-ah’s so cool now.” Dino teased.
“She’s too cool for us now.” Minghao chuckled.
Her eyes drifted among her members then to her leader, who started approaching her way. She softly smiled, hands on her side.
He stopped in front of her, his expression calmer now but still carrying the remnants of earlier tension.
“You made me ready to fight the company,” he said, crossing his arms, pouting a bit.
Byeol winced. “That’s my fault,” she admitted. “I thought it would be fun to get back to all of you for pranking me before.”
He sighed, then reached out and flicked her forehead lightly. “Don’t joke like that again,” he said.
Then his voice softened. “You did well.”
Her smile turned gentler. “Thank you Oppa,” she replied.
For a brief moment, the room settled.
Then Hoshi clapped his hands together suddenly, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Wait,” he said, looking around. “We have to do something!”
Woozi immediately shook his head. “No,” he said flatly, already predicting what was coming. “Whatever you’re planning is bad already.”
Dokyeom gasped. “Yes,” he said, grabbing Byeol’s arm, surprising the girl.
Seungkwan pointed dramatically. “I know exactly what this is.”
Before Byeol could react, the three of them dragged her to the center of the room.
“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing in disbelief.
Hoshi raised his arm like he was leading a ceremony. “Everyone, give space,” he announced, swinging his arms around in a waves.
“This is a sacred ritual,” Dokyeom added, nodding seriously.
Seungkwan folded his arms, trying to look authoritative. “For her first drama success.” He said in his hosting voice.
Byeol looked around at the others, feeling betrayed when she saw them holding back their laughter. “Why does this feel dangerous?” she asked.
“It’s because you are the offering,” Seungkwan declared.
Byeol stared at them with wide eyes. “Uh, that doesn’t sound very comforting.” She said, looking back at the others boys.
“Please take me away before they sacrifice me to the devil.” She hurriedly stated towards the other boys, who just laughed at her expense.
“Byeol-ah, stop squirming. This is for your own good,” Dokyeom clarified, holding the girl in place.
Hoshi pointed at her dramatically. “Basically, gives you good luck. So you must act well.”
“I will, just let me go,” she protested, trying to pull her arm free.
They ignored her completely. The three of them began circling her, moving in the most ridiculous ways possible. Hoshi swayed like he was performing some kind of abstract dance. Dokyeom bounced around with zero rhythm. Seungkwan spun dramatically, nearly losing his balance midway.
“Congratulations! Congratulations!” they chanted loudly, singing random notes.
Woozi and Vernon were already on the floor, completely dying from the scene in front of them.
Byeol stood in the middle, staring at them in disbelief before laughing again. “I regret everything,” she said, though she was clearly amused.
Around them, the others watched, some clapping along, others shaking their heads in fond exasperation.
summary: you return back to your hotel room after a long show on tour. to your misfortune, an unfamiliar figure lurks in the shadows. to his misfortune, you chose violence that day.
word count: 4.4K
warning: Al1 / TEEN,AGE eras, not proof read, fem!reader, stalker/saesang, violence, weapons (reader kicks his ass with a lamp), mentions of assault and murder (NOTHING happens!), minor injuries (reader gets cut with glass & a concussion), seventeen being shocked pikachu meme, jeongcheol being concerned parents, dark humor, slight crack fluff
nats notes: THIS APP HATES ME. i’ve tried posting this like 3 times and every time it doesn’t save or doesn’t post im gonna LOSE MY MARBLES. anyways, i don’t intend to post this so soon but i finished it last night and figured why tf not. i have some other works im wrapping up that SHOULD be out soon, ive just been so busy between work, preparing for college, dead mom stuff, yk the whole lot. but hopefully i can find some FREAKIN TIME & finish up what’s sitting in my drafts. i just needed this out so i could focus on those.
this also has slight focus on y/n & jeonghan’s friendship, so i figured i could post it in honor of jeonghan day! i hope you enjoy. if not…just scroll idk i wrote 85% of it half asleep leave me alone</3
You and the members had stayed out too late — again.
To be fair, you had just wrapped up just another leg of tour, and more than half of you had decided to celebrate over drinks, while the rest went back to their rooms to actually rest.
By the end of the night, you, Mingyu, DK, Dino, and Seungkwan remained. You had always been apart of the last few to head off to bed. You were the only girl, so you had always gotten your own hotel room even when the others had to share back in the earlier days. And while that was nice, being alone in so many new spaces so often had made you anxious. So, you’d try to tire yourself out with the boys, head off to your room, and crash without even thinking about it. Or, if you were lucky, you’d accidentally fall asleep in one of the boys’s rooms and they’d let you stay. Whichever came first.
This particular night seemed to be the first option. It was freakishly late, only a few more until the sun would start to rise. The adrenaline was finally wearing off. Boys were yawning more, Seungkwan was dozing off onto Mingyu’s shoulder. DK and Dino had finally stopped singing. You and Joshua were starting to be more quiet, a telltale sign that you were ready for bed.
“Y/n-ah,” Mingyu called your name, snapping you out of your sleepy haze. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, yeah?”
You nodded, for once not fighting it. You grabbed your things, mumbling goodnights to remaining members as you followed Mjngyu out the door, Joshua even trailing behind you. This was the usual routine. Once someone else was ready for bed, they’d walk you to your door, say goodnight, and head off to their own rooms. Which was exactly what happened here. The boys mumbled goodnights and “see you in the mornings” while you fumbled with your hotel key. You grumbled in reply before pushing your door open, trudging inside.
You dragged your feet along the carpet, taking off your slippers you’d been wearing from your room to theirs. You had changed into comfier clothes after the show, a tank and sweatpants with athletic shorts. And now you were too exhausted to change into any other clothes, so you simply made your way to your bed, passed the closed bathroom door, passed the arm chair and side table, plugged in your phone, tugged off the sweatpants so you were just in your shorts, and practically collapsed into the mattress.
You closed your eyes, reeling over the plans for the next few days. Schedules, some sight-seeing with Minghao and Mingyu, maybe take some photos with Hoshi. Then you have to think about the next show. You forgot to give the stylist back your top, wearing it back to the hotel when you first got back. You’d left it in the bathroom-
Wait a minute.
You thought back to right after the concert. You came in, wearing your stage top and sweatpants. You hadn’t meant to leave in it, you were just in such a rush trying to get out of there it just…happened. You’d changed into what you’re wearing now, leaving the top hanging on the bathroom door handle before you wandered back out to meet with the boys.
You had left the bathroom door open.
And now, it was shut, and the shirt that was previously hanging on the handle was nowhere to be seen.
You open your eyes, still surrounded by primarily darkness. You felt it, the anxiety starting to build, rising up your spine as you properly sat up in bed. You looked around, blinking to adjust to the lack of light. You barely had to react to the shadow in the corner.
Wait- what?
You blinked a few times, starting to stumble out of bed. “What the fuck-“
You were stopped by the shadow lunging. The wind knocked out of your lungs as you and the figure tumble to the ground. Your head smacks the floor, causing everything to hurt immediately. The figure, a man, has his knees on either side of your hips, practically straddling you as he grabs your wrists. You fight back, your ears still ringing.
“You remember me, don’t you?” The voice wasn’t as low as you initially expected. It was higher and nasally, with a rasp you figured was from cigarettes, considering the smell coming off his clothes. “I know you saw me. Tonight. And at the Seoul shows. You waved. You blew kisses at me. That’s how I knew. You were ready.”
Everything wasn’t processing. Whether it was due to shock, or due to the pending concussion you surely had, you didn’t know. You couldn’t even scream. Nothing was coming out of your mouth. You didn’t even think about what you were ready meant. All you knew is that you needed him off of you. Now.
“I’ve waited for you, for so long. I was there at your debut, you know? That was the first time I saw you. The first time I knew I had to have you.”
Oh, ew. You thought, realizing how much older this guy was. He was definitely older, well into his thirties and was in his late twenties when you debuted. You had only been fifteen. This guy had been keeping track of you for years. Undetected.
Fight or flight kicks in. Every self-defense class and martial arts training you’d ever watched, and the few you took, flood your brain at once. Like hell you’re going to get kidnapped, assaulted, murdered, or whatever this guy had planned. With your head still pounding, you scrunch your face as you adjust your feet. You move upwards, thrusting at his hips with all the strength you could muster.
He doesn’t expect it, tumbling forward. He lets go of your wrists to catch himself, and you take the advantage to reach for one arm, wrap your leg around one foot, and use your strength to take him down and roll the both of you over. He hits the ground, groaning in pain. You don’t take a second, your eyes focused on the hotel door.
You stumble to your feet, moving forward. The guy is quick, grabbing you again in an attempt to tackle you. You scream. The first time you’ve screamed this entire time, you realize. He lifts you off the ground by your waist, and you use your foot and push against a nearby dresser. The two of you stumble, collapsing into a glass side table that had been next to the armchair.
Glass shattered around you, cutting up the both of you. But you didn’t care. You used the opportunity this time to punch and punch hard. Your fist met his face with a sickening crack, the man grunting in pain. You hit him again. And again. And again. Until his nose is bleeding and your knuckles hurt from glass and cheekbone. You were still screaming. Hoping any of the members could hear you, or nearby staff, anybody. You just kept punching and screaming. Then, you pushed off of him, shouting in pain at the glass shards in your hands and feet. You stumble, limp your way through the room, breathing heavily. You just needed to get out the door.
As soon as you tugged the handle, a fist wrapped in your hair. This guy was like Michael Myers, you thought. He just wouldn’t stop. The door opened as he pulled you away, your hands refusing to let go of the handle. You could hear sounds of confusion from the hallway, familiar voices in the distance.
Freedom. You twist your body, your elbow hitting the guys gut. He stumbled backwards in pain, and you swing around to kick him in the face. It hurts. The glass in your feet stabbing into your skin and cutting his face at the force. He stumbles back, and you reach for a lamp that has been sitting on the front table by the door. You swing, hitting him on the side of his head. The force sends him down immediately, into an ugly unconscious heap of dark clothed limbs.
You’re breathing heavily, stumbling out of the room slowly, lamp still in hand. The light from the hallway consumes you, causing you to squint as you let the hotel room door swing shut in front of you. The man’s unconscious body disappears from view.
“Y/n?”
You flinch, snapping your head up to see Hoshi and Dino in front of you, probably heading back to their rooms before the commotion. Behind them, you could see an alarmed DK standing at his door, and more members starting to come out of their rooms.
“Yah, who was screaming?” Jeonghan muttered as he looked around. When his eyes found your figure, he froze. They all did.
You were standing there in a tank top and shorts that hardly covered anything, your legs and arms severely cut up, your hair a disheveled mess, your eyes wider than they’d ever been, holding a broken lamp, shaking like a leaf.
You looked at everyone. DK who was still standing in his doorway. Seungkwan who’d stepped further out into the hall at the sight of you. Hoshi and Dino who stood in front of you like deer in headlights. Vernon who’d woken up to the sound of your screaming. Woozi who was now fully in the hallway, not caring that he was shirtless now that he saw you.
A door behind you opened, and you flinched again. Seungcheol had been in the room just across from you, and had just fallen asleep when he heard a scream followed by some commotion. His eyes found you. Found your shaking figure. Your scraped knees. Your bloodied arms. Your bruised hands. Your wide, terrified eyes.
The rest of the members were now stepping out, too. It felt like it was slow motion, but it all had to be less than thirty seconds. Jun who’s eyes went from tired to alert, Minghao who was stunned into silence, Wonwoo who hadn’t even bother to put his glasses on, and Mingyu and Joshua who had been the ones to walk you to your room. The two of them opened their doors, and to their horror, found you.
“Y/n,” Jeonghan calls out, walking closer. You snapped your head at him, panicked. The adrenaline was still flooding through you. Everything hurt but your body refused to acknowledge it. The man had been in your room. He’d been following the entire tour. He’d waited in the shadow of your room. You had been too exhausted to even notice. How could you not notice? If you had seen him, you would’ve had a better chance. What if you hadn’t noticed the bathroom door? Who was he? What was his plan?
Jeonghan steps into your line of focus, disrupting your thoughts. “What happened?” He whispered.
You blinked. Your voice was trapped in your throat. You could see Seungkwan on his phone, likely alerting your managers. You slowly looked at your door again, as if the man would come bursting out of it, ready to grab you again. Perhaps he could.
You shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. “There’s a guy in there,” You deadpan. Surprise crossed every members features. “He’s, uh, unconscious now.” You muttered awkwardly, gesturing to your shut hotel room door.
Everyone stared at you, as if waiting for you to say you were joking from your tone. But they saw you. Saw the blood which continued to seep down your legs, the cut on your forehead ugly and deep, the way your knuckles were turning a nasty shade of purple. The way your eyes looked a way they’d never seen before.
Seungcheol’s expression darkened. It was almost scary the way he straightened his posture and barked into the hall, “Call security!” He shouts. Vernon disappears into his room, rushing for a phone.
You didn’t move, though you watched warily as Jeonghan stepped closer. “Y/n, can you hand me the lamp?” You looked down, realizing you were still holding the lap with a death grip.
“Sorry,” You muttered, handing it to him for him to pass it to Dino.
“He’s still in there?” Hoshi asks, stepping forward to look at your door. He was keeping himself calm, but you could feel the rage rolling off of his spine.
The shock was the only thing keeping you standing. “Yeah.” You could feel the pain now. Your head, your limbs, your feet, your side from crashing into the table. Everything was settling in now and tears were starting to form. “He was waiting for me. I didn’t notice, I didn’t-“
“Come on,” Jeonghan reached for you. “Somebody get her a jacket.”
You took your first step, shouting in pain and stumbling into Jeonghan and Dino. The sharp, stabbing pain in your feet was unbearable. It was a miracle you’d gotten this far without collapsing.
Mingyu came rushing forward, the largest member scooping you up into his arms. Members gasped or looked away when they saw the injuries. “Woozi, open your door more.”
“Hyung,” Seungkwan called out to Seungcheol as Mingyu, Jeonghan, and you disappeared into Woozi’s room. “Managers are coming down.”
“This shouldn’t have happened.” Hoshi counters, standing in front of your door. “How long has he been here?”
Joshua shook his head, “Me and Mingyu walked her to her room. He must have already been in there.” He muttered in thought.
“I walked her to her room when we got back from the concert.” Wonwoo points out. “We always wait for her to get in there safely.”
“He must have snuck in when she was with us,” Dino says, looking between Seungkwan, Joshua, DK, and Hoshi.
Woozi, standing in front of his door like a body guard, shakes his head. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Who has the extra key to her room?” Seungcheol asked. Nobody could ignore the intensity of his voice. Every protective instinct he had flooding through him in a way he hadn’t felt in so long.
Jun steps forward, moving without a word to open the door. The members weren’t afraid, too angry to worry about anything else other then who the hell had attacked their maknae.
The room was a disaster. Glass covered the floor, your bed a disheveled mess, random things knocked over or shoved into a disarray from the struggle. And in the middle of it all was the man. Wearing all black, including a beanie on his head, unconscious and bloodied and bruised.
“She really got him,” Seungkwan muttered in amazement.
“She kicked his ass.” Hoshi said simply. Members blinked at the beaten man, now feeling more proud than anything.
“Remind me to never steal her snacks again,” Dino muttered.
In Woozi’s room, you were sitting with Jeonghan and Mingyu, the two of them tending to you and making sure you were okay. One of Woozi’s jackets was draped over your shoulders while Jeonghan was trying to pick at the glass on your hands.
Mingyu was holding you, primarily to keep you from yanking out of Jeonghan’s grip and hurting either of you. “It hurts.” You mutter, tears now rolling down your face and staining your shirt.
The door opened, Minghao sticking his head in. His eyes immediately finding you. “EMS is here,” He says.
“Hao,” Your lip trembles as you look up at him. Jeonghan stops what he was doing to let Minghao walk further in, leaning down to wipe your tears and gently touch your face.
“I’m here. We all are,” He says, voice soft and soothing. He looks towards the door as the EMS crew starts coming in. “They just gotta check on you, okay? I’ll be right here.”
And he was. Minghao stayed in the room while EMS did their assessment. Jeonghan stayed by the door with Mingyu and Woozi, the three of them watching the police drag out the man who’d been in your room.
“You did that!?” Mingyu shouts. You look up, furrowing a brow. “You broke his face!”
“I would’ve done more if he hadn’t thrown me into a table,” You add, earning a chuckle from a near by staff member.
Woozi looks back at you, nodding. “He won’t bother you anymore.” He said. A promise, more than anything, that something like this would never happen again.
The EMS said you more likely than not had a concussion. A minor one, but still worth going to the hospital. The boys agreed to meet you there once they finished with the police, Minghao and Jeonghan heading with you.
“You broke his nose!” Hoshi told you, practically bouncing off the hospital walls once he and the others got there. “His nose, his jaw, his arm, his rib-“
“You kicked his ass.” Mingyu cut in, smiling and laughing as he leans into DK.
Now that the initial fear, adrenaline, and pain had all subsided, you were able to smile in amusement as the members talked over each other in amazement. “I saw him and immediately thought, wow, I never wanna fight with Y/n again,” Dino said, eyes wide as he shakes his head. You couldn’t help but laugh, throwing your head back and cackling. You didn’t even mind the panging in your head.
“We need to stop underestimating her! She’s gonna kick our asses next!” DK adds on, nudging at Mingyu as he looks around the group.
You look to Joshua, who’s taken the spot next to you on your bed. “Was it really that bad?”
“I couldn’t tell you what he’s supposed to look like.” Joshua mumbles, a slight smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Well, now you know, so don’t come into my dorm unannounced anymore.” You say, purposely loudly as you look in Hoshi’s direction.
“Yah!”
Members are laughing again and you look towards Seungcheol, who’d been quietly observing next to Jeonghan. You raise a brow, tilting your head at him like a cat. “You okay?”
Seungcheol clenched his jaw for a moment, as if debating his answer. What answer would be best to give you? Honesty? That he was angry he hadn’t thought to stay up late and make sure you were in your room safely? Angry he hadn’t checked your room before he went to his own? Angry that you were sitting in a hospital bed, regardless of how minor or severe the injuries were, because he and the rest of them had failed to protect you? But also how proud he was? How proud he was that you defended yourself? Proud that you won? Proud that you beat up this creep to a pulp and came out of your hotel room, lamp in hand, ready to fight again?
You must have known what he was thinking, he realized as he looked at you again. You raised an eyebrow, and all he could do was chuckle under his breath. “You’re crazy.” He muttered softly.
“What did you expect?” Jeonghan asked, nudging his side. “We raised her.”
Seungcheol nods at that, watching as you divert your attention to Jun and Joshua again. You started telling them the story, every detail in dramatized actions. You told the story with energy, waving your bandaged hands around as you reenacted from your bed. The others awed and gasped, even they themselves acted dramatically at every word you said. A way to make the situation lighter on your shoulders. A way for you all to laugh despite the dark reality of the situation.
It took a couple days of filing statements, charges, and getting checked out by medical professionals before you and the boys were finally “alone” again. You all stayed back a couple extra days to make sure everything you needed to do to legally hold the man accountable was secured.
It had turned out he really had been following the group for years, since debut. At almost every tour, every fan sign, even ended up at some of your solo schedules. Always lingering. Always out of sight just enough nobody noticed. The idea made your stomach twist, and it fueled the members protective anger.
You didn’t go back to that room. The hotel offered a new one, free of charge, but instead you chose to sleep in Jeonghan’s room, needing to be around someone comfortable and familiar.
He didn’t mind. Didn’t mind when you stayed up late, doom scrolling on your phone cause your mind was too loud. Didn’t complain when you twisted and turned cause every time you closed your eyes to worried he’d be lurking in the corner. Didn’t say a word when you asked to turn on a TV show until you fell asleep. Or he said a lot when you asked him about his day, his life, what he’s currently into, and let him talk you to sleep. Even when he struggled with his own sleeping, he didn’t complain to you ot anyone else once.
The other members helped too. A gentle, protective force around you when you all headed back home. The gentle barricade that surrounded you at the air ports, your arm linked with Wonwoo. The food Jun made you, refusing to let you help him cook and lightly smacking your hands away like a sassy grandma. Seungkwan who reminded you to take any pain medicines you’d been prescribed.
The group was meeting up for your first practice since the incident, you walked in alongside DK and Vernon, sipping on your morning coffee casually. The boys tried not to make it a big deal, knowing how you just wanted to get back to work after everything.
“There’s our WWE fighter!” Hoshi cheered, earning surprised cackles from others as he bounded his way towards you. “If anyone pisses you off, fight Mingyu. He’s the biggest.”
“What? Why me!?”
“We all know she’d kick his ass when she’s in a good mood,” Woozi points out. The others start to laugh again as you narrow your eyes playfully, pointing at Mingyu as if to say I’m watching you. The man, despite being significantly taller than you, cowers away with wide eyes as he clutches onto Seungcheol like a child hiding behind his father.
And practice continued as such. Jokes, dancing, playful shoves, and a few moments you playfully threatened to hit Dino or Seungkwan with your water bottle. It was normal, something you’d wanted the entire time.
But then there was Jeonghan, who’d seen you in the moments that the reality of the situation dawned on you. The one who stayed up with you while you cried about the possibility of never feeling comfortable to have your own hotel room again. The one who held your hand in the hospital waiting rooms. The one who made cafeteria runs to get you whatever you wanted. The one who stayed up after you finally fell asleep because even he worried who lurked in the shadows.
He’d been one of the first out of the oldest members to develop a close bond with you. You’d became his little sister in every sense. He’d always made sure you were doing well in school, in practices, he’d supported you during your solo performances for the company, he’d stood up for you when other trainees said cruel words, he’d been the first one to protect you from the harsh realities of the industry, even when you didn’t need it. And now, as he watches you dance on feet that weeks ago he pulled glass shards from, high-fived DK with hands that still had healing cuts, and wore a log sleeve due to the healing bruises on your arms; Jeonghan felt sick.
He didn’t know how you did it. How you were able to push through the hardest moments with a smile and dark humor. How you were still so undeniably you despite the situation that could’ve changed you forever. How you were ready to continue the tour despite the anxiety creeping in the back of your head. He didn’t get it. He was almost jealous. Of your strength, of your power.
But he was also so proud. Proud as he watched you perfect a difficult dance move in a couple tries. Proud as he watched you share your snacks with Woozi and Mingyu. Proud as you sang along with the tracks and performed in the studio as if you were performing for thousands of people. Proud as you adjusted Jun’s shirt and tied his shoes when he didn’t notice they untied. Proud as you scolded Vernon for stealing a sip of your coffee. Proud as when practice finally ended, you sprawled out on the floor with heavy breaths and laughter as everyone was relieved their days were over.
As members started filing out of the room, heading home or to another meeting, Jeonghan lingered. He watched as you remained on the floor, taking a moment to yourself. He almost didn’t want to interrupt. You had pulled your hair from its ponytail, letting it halo around your head. Your limbs were lazy strewn out on the wooden floors.
He walked over, his steps precise and gentle. Slowly, silently, he sat down next to you, and then laid back. You didn’t say anything, letting the two of you sit in a comfortable silence.
“I’m proud of you, you know.” He says, cutting the silence through with a soft voice. “And I promise, nothing like will ever happen again.”
For a moment, you didn’t respond. You stared up at the ceiling as the night flashed through your mind. The heaviest parts engrained into your brain like a tattoo that you regret getting. You pressed your lips in a line, turning your head to Jeonghan now. “Thank you,”
The words meant more to you both than it would’ve to anyone else. So much left unsaid in between them. Thank you for being there. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for carrying the weight with me rather than letting me handle it on my own. Thank you for holding me on the nights where I felt like I was going to shatter. Thank you for laughing with me. Thank you for letting me feel normal.
Jeonghan didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. He reached over, linking his hand with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.
You didn’t need to question it. Jeonghan, just like the other members of Seventeen, loved you unconditionally. They would never let you drown. They would never let you shatter without being there to pick up the pieces. They were your family. There wasn’t a world where they weren’t. And even in the moments where they can’t control what happens, they’ll be damned to let anything happen to you. You’ve never felt safer. Never felt more loved. Not by anyone but them.
You looked at him again, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Wanna go get ice cream?” You chirp.
Jeonghan looked at you, his eyes soft and warm and filled with the same admiration he’s had since he met you in the trainee practice rooms. “Always.”
summary: you need help and you just don't know whom else to call...
tags: hurt/comfort, ex-boyfriend!wonwoo, panic attacks, warnings: mentions of mental illness
word count: ~2,1k
a/n: anyone know that clip of mingyu pranking wonwoo and asking for money and wonwoo is ready to lend it to him no questions asked? that kinda had me thinking that wonwoo is really the kind of person who is ready to help you if you're in trouble, no matter what. and then i tought "dang, if you said you needed him he'd probably still show even if you'd broken up already" and then this drabble happened ...why do i write ex-bf scenarios so often?
Masterlist
It’d been a while since Wonwoo and you had broken up. It wasn't that you'd fallen out of love. Your life patterns simply weren’t matching and it felt like it didn't make much sense to stay together. So you’d mutually decided to end things.
The last time you’d spoken was months ago. You knew you wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if you stayed in contact.
And yet you still hadn’t deleted his number.
And yet
you were sitting in a public bathroom stall
your thumb hovering over the call button.
You'd been contemplating making that call for what felt like hours but surely wasn’t more than a few minutes. Panic attacks were like that sometimes, things simultaneously felt unbearably fast and yet so slow, the passage of time just a weird incomprehensible construct.
If you were being honest with yourself, you should have seen this coming. You'd felt weird from the moment you got out of bed, jittery and on edge, and it continued from there. You hadn’t planned on leaving the house, but then your mom had called to remind you that her important dinner was in a few days. She bugged you about whether you’d already bought new dress pants because you couldn't show up in the shabby ones from last time (you hadn't) and if she had to find a last minute accompaniment for you or if you finally had someone new (you didn't).
So, despite everything, you dragged yourself out of your apartment to look for some fancy pants.
Needless to say that it didn’t go well.
You’d just felt so wrong, in every way possible. The people were too much, the noise was too much and trying on these godforsaken pants was even worse.
You’d felt the panic attack coming then, as you stared at the stranger in the mirror with their ill fitting dress pants and empty eyes.
Your chest tightened and breathing got harder with every passing second.
In theory, you knew what to do about this. Take deep, slow breaths. Count backwards in your head. Visualize a flower meadow to distract you. It wasn’t your first panic attack and you’d found some strategies that were usually helpful.
But nothing was working, not this time.
You watched in a haze as the person in the mirror peeled themselves out of the dress pants and slipped back into their own clothing. All the while, your breathing kept growing more erratic.
With blurry vision you left the tiny changing room and made your way out of the shop
Count slowly, you reminded yourself, a futile attempt to somehow keep it together, at least a little longer. But the numbers came too quickly and you kept mixing up the order.
The corridors of the mall were full of people, worse than the shop. It was too much. Of course, most of them were too focused on themselves to even notice you, but you still felt as if you were being stared at and judged at every corner.
You wanted to go home, but you knew you wouldn't even make it to the station and even there you’d still have to deal with the people around. No, you needed silence, you needed a small space without all these strangers.
Your steps got faster and more rushed until you were practically running towards the restroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls as if you’d been hunted.
You'd thought maybe you could go home after calming down a bit. But now that you'd been sitting here for a while, crouched on the toilet lid, your legs pulled close to your chest, you weren't sure if that was realistic.
Everytime you'd calmed down a little and considered getting up and leaving, a new wave of panic rushed over you. Just the thought of walking through all these people again, of waiting at the station
—you couldn't do this. You'd come to that conclusion a while ago but finding a solution wasn't that easy. You needed someone to get you out but there wasn't anyone, not really.
Your mom wasn’t very understanding of these kinds of things. Calling her would just make things worse. She'd probably scold you for making a scene and embarrassing her and it would leave you feeling guilty on top of everything.
Your best friend didn't live in the same city as you did and you couldn't exactly ask her to drive four hours just to pick you up from a public bathroom, even though you knew that she would in a heartbeat. Your other friends were nice and you liked them—but you weren't really that close. You hadn’t told them about your panic attacks and you didn’t know how they’d deal with it. And it seemed a little risky to find out in the middle of one.
So the only person that came to mind, really, was Wonwoo. He knew this side of you and he wouldn’t judge you about it ever.
Still, how could you call him months after breaking up? How could you expect him to just drop everything to come here?
He had surely moved on with his life, it wasn't fair to pull him back into your mess now.
But at this point it felt like there was no other choice.
With trembling fingers you pressed the call button and held your phone against your ear.
For a while there was nothing but the dialing tone and you already considered hanging up again when you heard a click in the line.
"Hello?"
Your heart ached when you heard his voice. He still sounded the same, of course he did.
"Hello?" he asked again, when you didn't reply.
It occurred to you then, that maybe he didn't know who was calling. Just because you hadn't deleted his number didn't mean he did the same.
It was a mistake to call him. You shouldn't have barged into his life again.
Just when you were lowering your phone again to end the call you heard his voice, hesitantly, questioningly, but full of warmth.
"Y/n?"
You couldn't suppress the sob that escaped your lips when you heard him call your name. You immediately covered your mouth to silence yourself, but he must have heard it anyway.
"It's you, isn't it?"
"Sorry," you choked out between sobs. "I shouldn't have—forget that I called."
You sniffed, feeling more and more guilty about contacting him. "I just—I didn't know whom to call but—it's really nothing."
You forced a laugh but you should have known better than to think Wonwoo would be fooled by that.
"It's not nothing," he calmly replied.
"I mean it's—I'll be fine. You shouldn't have to deal with this," you rambled on, still trying to make your voice sound lighter.
"Where are you?"
"I'm—I'm in the mall, but it's fine, really, I'll just take the bus in a bit." Another forced laugh.
"Where exactly?" You heard rustling and movement at the other end of the line. But his voice stayed even. He'd always been like that, able to keep his calm when you couldn't.
"No—it's—"
"Y/n. Where exactly?"
You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "The restrooms on the first floor."
"Got it. I'll come get you."
You knew you should decline, tell him not to come, reassure him that you were okay.
But you weren't okay. And Wonwoo knew you well enough to be aware of that.
You wouldn't have called him in the first place if there'd been any way for you to handle this by yourself.
So instead of refusing his help again, you just sniffed out a small "Okay."
You heard the clattering of keys through the line and the sound of steps. It was good, it was reassuring. He was on the way.
"Did you count?" He asked, maybe to remind you of trying it or maybe just to distract you by making conversation.
"Mhm."
"Didn't help?"
“Mh-mhm,” you declined.
"How about the flowers?"
"No."
"Didn't try or didn't help?"
"I couldn't focus."
"Hm," he hummed and you heard the sound of his car starting in the background. "Tell me about it. Describe it to me."
It felt stupid, sitting on a public toilet and describing a made up flower field to your ex boyfriend who was on the phone. But he just waited patiently for you to start and so you reluctantly did. You described the colors of the flowers, the shapes of the leaves and petals, the little bumble bees flying around. The more you said, the easier it got to focus.
All the while, he listened, humming from time to time to reassure you and show that he was paying attention.
When you didn't know what to say anymore, he'd ask small questions to make you think of more details to tell him in between small sniffs and sobs.
"I'm at the parking lot now," he said after a while. You nodded, adding a hoarse "okay" once you remembered he couldn't see you.
You hadn't noticed when you'd stopped crying, but now that you knew he was about to be here you felt yourself tearing up all over again.
It didn't take long for you to hear his steps on the tiles of the bathroom. You weren't sure why you were still able to recognize the sound of his steps, but you knew it was him before he even said anything.
"Y/n?" He asked close to the door, gently knocking against it.
Reality hit you once more—you'd really made your ex-boyfriend drive all the way here to pick you up because of a stupid panic attack.
"Let me in," he interrupted your thoughts. It didn't sound mean, his voice still warm. But it didn't leave much room for discussion either.
You took a deep breath before leaning forward and unlocking the door.
He pushed it open, slipped into the stall with you and locked it behind him. You didn't look up, instead staring holes into your knees that were still pulled up to your chest.
Wonwoo crouched down in front of you, looking at you from below and waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you finally did, the tears you'd felt welling up in your eyes came spilling out immediately. You hadn't seen him in so long and you'd pushed aside all thoughts of him for months. But now that you saw his face, his warm eyes looking at you with endless patience, it all came crashing down on you again.
You'd missed him.
You'd really missed him a lot.
"I'm sorry," you choked out between sobs but you weren't even sure what you were apologizing for.
He just shook his head lightly. It was a small gesture, but it felt so familiar, so reassuring.
"Do you need space?" He asked after a moment of silence.
He'd always asked that back then too. Because he knew how hard it was for you to admit what you needed, even if he directly addressed it.
He wasn't asking if you needed space, not really. He was asking if you needed a hug, if you needed to be held.
You didn't look at him when you replied. "No."
You saw him nod from your peripheral vision, before he got up and opened his arms for you. A new wave of tears made their way down your cheeks and you roughly wiped them away with your sleeve before you stood up too.
You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and sob into his chest, but somehow it felt hard to do it now, the word ex-boyfriend still ghosting through your mind.
But when he tilted his head with a small smile, his arms still wide open for you, you let yourself fall into his embrace. His arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you close.
Your hands clung to his shirt as if your life depended on it, and you were sure it would leave terrible crinkles in the fabric, but he didn't say anything about it. He just held you, resting his head against yours and drawing slow patterns on your back.
All of this felt like home, from the warmth of his body to the scent of his fabric softener.
You stood there hugging until your tears had stopped and still a little longer after that. Wonwoo had never been the first to pull away. Even if you’d long calmed down, he would always hold you until you decided it was okay to let go.
Today was no exception. He only loosened his hold on you when you pulled away.
"Better?"
You nodded.
He let you go, only to reach for your hand instead, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he unlocked the bathroom stall.
Pairing: part-time barista!college student!joshua x college student!fem!reader (x college student!seungcheol [platonic])
Summary: In a sea of college students trying to get by, Joshua only seems to struggle with one thing: his big, fat crush on you. In a desperate attempt for you to at least look his way, he takes the barista job at your favorite cafe, Handsome Coffee. Will you finally notice him?
Warning/s: cheol being a tease, shua being so down bad, chaotic, kim seokjin mentioned and a bit of jungkook, some swear words, lowkey obsessed joshua, religious joshua, mentions of murder but nothing serious (trust)
Notes: this is in the same universe as my yoongi fic! thought it'd be nice to have it in the same universe bc why not? the beginning part is actually a callback to my yoongi fic (it'll make sense, I promise)
Songs: espresso by sabrina carpenter, sunday morning by maroon 5, enchanted by taylor swift, you are in love by taylor swift, crush by david archuleta, adore you by harry styles, pretty u by svt, just one day by bts, i wish by one direction, everything about you by one direction, i would by one direction
Word count: 20,779
P.S. I had accidentally posted this 😭 so I'm tagging the three people that gave it a like when it got posted so they can read the full fic: @explore-my-world @blqckie @jkoishi-11.
PROLOGUE
Kim Seokjin was very happy. Having established his own successful business, he deserved more than just a pat on the back. After all, he didn't ask his extremely wealthy father for help. Rather, he did all of it on his own, and he worked very hard. Due to this, Kim Seokjin decided it was best to open another branch of 'Handsome Coffee' for a number of reasons: 1.) to manage the original branch's foot traffic, 2.) to target a new market, and 3.) to earn more money. Because honestly, who doesn't want more money?
Seokjin gathered all his courage, savings, and patience and opened a second branch near several universities. It was a smart move, considering his first branch was in the business district. He also made the decision to place some of his part-time baristas to run shifts at the second location. After all, they were university students themselves, and it was more accessible to them compared to the first branch. After three months, when Handsome Coffee was already stable enough, Seokjin thought it was time to hire a manager. After all, he couldn't manage two Handsome Coffee branches at the same time. So, it was time to hunt for the best candidate.
-
Lee Jihoon wanted to be a music producer; a serious music producer. Don't get him wrong, he loved his job at the TV network. He loved his colleagues, he loved the company's building and amenities, he loved its location, and he loved the work-life balance that it offered. However, after three years of working there, he decided it was time for him to stop. It was clear that he wasn't going anywhere with that career path. He wanted to produce music that would speak to people. Heck, he even dropped out just for his passion. Alas, all he did for three years was create background music for the morning news, the afternoon news, the evening news, the late-night news, and if Jihoon was being extra good at his job (not sure how that's possible because he's simply the best at his job), they'd make him create background music for talk shows or dramas.
With a heavy heart, he typed out his resignation letter.
"Dear sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health…" Jihoon mumbled to himself as he typed. He quickly shook his head and erased it. "That's so Hamilton-coded."
He sighed and stretched his back before typing again. This time, he really locked in.
"I am incredibly grateful for the opportunities that I have been given in this post. I deeply value the insights I have learned, and I expect them to help me in my future endeavors. I would also like to express my sincere gratitude for being a support system in my growth both professionally and personally. I have enjoyed my time as a television composer and I have enjoyed working with you and the rest of the team.
Let me know how I can help in making the transition of responsibilities as smooth as possible for everyone involved.
Thank you.
Best wishes,
Lee Jihoon"
Not knowing what to do after sending his resignation via email, Jihoon went out to treat himself at the new coffee shop that just opened.
Upon entering, Jihoon took note of the aroma that enveloped the whole place. It was clear that the design was catered to students. Ergonomic chairs, a loft-style space, a mezzanine with bean bags, high-speed WiFi, small meeting rooms for group projects, and many, many charging areas for gadgets. The area itself was clearly designed for students to collaborate and study. Jihoon thought he was out of place. Though, he figured, there was absolutely nothing to be insecure about because the students in the cafe were minding their own business. Some were there last night, and others just got there.
"I'm probably the only one who isn't a student." He thought to himself. With one more look at the place, he got up to the counter to order for himself.
"Welcome to Handsome Coffee! What can I get for you?" A young man smiled at him. Jihoon thought the man's eyes resembled boba… now, he wants boba, but he couldn't back out now or that'd be awkward.
"Hi, um…" Jihoon squinted his eyes and read the cashier's name, "Jungkook. I, uh, I'll just have an iced Americano. I'll keep it simple today."
The cashier, Jungkook, nodded and punched his order. After paying, Jihoon waited at the hand-off area and saw a small sign that said: "URGENT HIRING: STORE MANAGER AND BARISTAS".
A voice pulled him away from his thoughts, "Are you interested in applying? Everyone's welcome."
Jihoon looked at the person and found a man sliding his iced Americano and looking at him with a small smile on his face.
"I'm Kim Seokjin, by the way. I'm the manager and I own the place. Um, this is actually the second location of Handsome Coffee. I need someone to manage this place while I manage the main branch."
Jihoon smiled and introduced himself. Then, Seokjin walked around the counter and began discussing with Jihoon about the position. Seokjin may not have the usual talents others have (i.e., singing, dancing, etc.), but he can definitely spot potential in people.
Jihoon and Seokjin took a seat nearby and they continued their discussion. Jihoon didn't expect to get stuck in this situation. He didn't know how to get out of it either. Jihoon then realized that he didn't have a job after sending over his resignation letter.
"When a door closes, another one opens." Jihoon thought, as he looked at Seokjin animatedly, talking to him about Handsome Coffee's roots.
"So, are you in?" Seokjin asked, looking at him intently.
Jihoon thought Seokjin was a kind man. A kind, no-nonsense kind of man who's just passionate about his business. He thought it was a good trait to have.
"Fuck it." Jihoon said to himself.
"Yeah, I'm in." Jihoon smiled as he shook hands with Seokjin. After all, how bad could it be?
CHAPTER 1: THE CRUSH THAT STARTED EVERYTHING
Joshua Hong usually kept to himself. After graduating high school in LA, he went to college in Korea. He figured it was time to get in touch with his Korean heritage even more. The move wasn't easy because he was away from his family, but he took the risk anyway. He wanted to start fresh.
The adjustment was difficult at first. After all, he felt more Western than Asian. He learned about proper greetings, how to address people properly, and how to speak with different levels of respect depending on who he's talking to. It was challenging, but he overcame it.
Making friends was kind of difficult for him, though. The guys at his university already had a set of friends. He was nice to people he met, but he didn't have his own circle.
"It's not that deep," he told his mom one night, "I can survive."
"Joshua, you need to put yourself out there. You don't even have a girlfriend!"
"Mom, chill. I'm still young! I just started college. Besides, I still have plenty of time. Right now, I'm focused on my goal in being a registered Child Psychiatrist."
"Aish, but that's so far away. I know you'll get there, but you still have a lot to do. You're only a freshman, after all."
"Mom, I'll be fine. I'll visit soon, okay? I have to go or I'll be late."
Joshua's conversations with his mom consisted of talks about his future. His relationship with his ex-girlfriend wasn't that serious, anyway. They were on and off for about a year and a half. Joshua didn't really see a future with her, but he liked having her around, liked having a girlfriend to spoil, and liked having a person to talk to. His ex-girlfriend felt the same way. The reason why they were on and off was because they weren't sure where they're going.
Joshua's freshman year consisted of walking to university from his dorm, going to the library to do his homework, and getting invited to parties sometimes because everyone likes having a nice guy around, right? Despite that, he still hasn't made any friends.
Joshua genuinely didn't mind, but it was starting to become lonely sometimes. After all, he was only human. Nevertheless, he just focused on his studies, spoke to his friends and family back home, and roamed around Seoul in his free time.
When summer came around, he went back to LA and spent his summer with his friends. A few weeks into his summer vacation, he got notified that he was added in a Facebook group for sophomores in their university. He browsed through it and saw familiar names and faces. Shrugging it off, he placed his phone back in his pocket and carried on as usual.
Being a sophomore psychology major is trickier than being a freshman. Joshua's classes were now held at the other building which is in the opposite direction of his dorm. He didn't have a car in Korea, nor did he have a Korean driver's license… not yet, at least (even though his mom was pestering him to get one already). If he knew about the change, he'd move to a different dorm. Alas, he guessed it wasn't meant for him.
Now, he had to wake up earlier than usual in order to get to class at least 10-20 minutes before the professor came in. Joshua didn't really fancy waking up super early.
-
Today, Joshua was having a really bad day. He snoozed his alarm 3 times, arrived late, got in trouble for being late, and accidentally handed over his reviewer notes in lieu of his homework which he left on top of his desk. After twenty minutes of begging and pleading with the professor to allow him to hand over the real one before grading, he came out with a small smile on his face and his reviewer on his hand.
He checked his watch and realized he was late for a group meeting for his group project in one of his major subjects. His group mates asked for him to meet them at the university's courtyard which was located at the university's other other building.
"This university has way too many buildings…" Joshua huffed to himself as he awkwardly ran around the university. While running, he took out his phone and started texting their group chat.
It was then that he collided with another person, and the collision was hard, to say the least. Papers and books were strewn around them, and Joshua quickly got up to help gather papers. When he looked up, his whole world stopped. In front of him was you. Your hair was effortlessly let down and you looked at him with a small smile.
"Thanks." You said as he handed you your papers and books.
"You too." Joshua softly muttered to you causing you to chuckle a bit. "Oh, um, I mean, you're welcome." His face was beet red. Was it embarrassment? Was it because he was shy? He wasn't sure, and he didn't care.
"Thanks, again. Bye!" You smiled and left. Joshua looked at you as you walked away, almost forgetting he was supposed to meet his group mates at the library.
Since then, Joshua has been seeing you everywhere. It was as if everything's falling into place. Has he ever spoken to you since he bumped into you? No. He definitely didn't want to talk to you after that. Well, he wanted to, but he knows he'd only make a fool out of himself.
Every time he'd see you, his day instantly got better. It's as if you were the missing piece in his lonely life in Korea. He'd often call his mom and best friend from LA just to talk about you.
"What's her name?" His best friend asked.
"I didn't ask, but does it even matter? She's an angel, I swear. Oh! I saw her today and god, she looked amazing. She had a cute skirt on, paired with a long-sleeved shirt and a cute vest. She even had high socks and some loafers on."
"Are you, by any chance at all, talking about season 1 Rachel Berry?"
Joshua made a face, "Dude, no, I swear I'm not. I'd rather have Santana Lopez. She's hot."
"True. Anyway, back to your crush. Just talk to her!" his best friend exclaimed.
"I'll consider it."
"Or just find out where she hangs out the most and hang out there too."
"That sounds stalkerish." Joshua hummed.
"You idiot. Of course, you'd have to talk to her!"
"BIG NO!" Joshua said. Even the thought of talking to you made him panic. He liked you so much, he might explode.
He ended up taking his best friend's advice and began following you around in his free time. Well, "follow you around" is a strong phrase. Joshua preferred to call it "observing you from afar". At least that's what he uses every time he tells his best friend and mom.
He learned a few things about you:
Your favorite color is (Y/F/C).
You only hang out with two guys everyday. One of them, he learned over time, was your twin. (Equally pretty in his opinion. He had to double check if he was a man or a woman because of his features.)
You always hang out at Handsome Coffee with the guys you're always with. Most often, it's the guy who isn't your twin.
Joshua figured you loved Handsome Coffee so much. He'd go there sometimes even when you're not there, just to get a feel of the place. Joshua grew to like the place too. He always changes his orders, so he could try all of their drinks.
Sometimes, when you're there, he'd hear you laugh with the guy you're with. He couldn't help but feel jealous too.
"Joshua, you're being ridiculous." He'd often tell himself as he observed you from afar. He truly felt ridiculous because who was he to get jealous, anyway? You're free to do whatever you want. Besides, you didn't know him at all, and he doubted that you remembered him at all.
On this day, Joshua watched from his seat as you left with the guy. He sighed to himself and swirled his iced mocha around. Just as he's about to leave, he saw a sign on the window that said: "URGENT HIRING: PART-TIME BARISTAS".
Joshua quickly looked for the manager and said, "I would like to apply as a part-time barista. When can I start? I can deliver, I promise! Please hire me."
Jihoon, the branch manager, looked at him like he was crazy.
"Jihoon, be kind to yourself. He's crazy. You don't need another crazy barista." Jihoon thought to himself as he stared at Joshua, who was waiting for his reply. However, Jihoon had promised Seokjin that he'd give part-timers a chance because they're in need too. With a heavy inhale, Jihoon could only nod, making Joshua happier than ever.
CHAPTER 2: JOSHUA FROM LA LIKES THE REGULAR CUSTOMER AND SEUNGKWAN DISCOVERED IT. GIVE HIM A BONUS, JUSEYO. -BOO SEUNGKWAN
"'Hi, what can I get for you?' No, that sounds robotic." Joshua said as he practiced his dialogue to nobody. After all, he got the solo dorm because he didn't want to deal with having a roommate. "'Hey! Ordering something?' That sounds rude."
Today is Joshua's first day at Handsome Coffee. He's pretty excited. Today will be pretty chill because it's the weekend. Their only customers would be outsiders or university students who have Saturday classes. It's Joshua's first-ever job and he's genuinely looking forward to seeing you as his customer… and he's looking forward to working with his co-baristas and gaining new friends.
Upon arriving at the cafe, Joshua was greeted by Jihoon, the branch manager. All hands were on deck that day despite the slow day. Apparently, Kim Seokjin had told Jihoon that weekends should be full of staff in case there's an increase in foot traffic.
-
It's been a month since Joshua joined Handsome Coffee, and he's been loving it so far. He loves being able to make drinks, loves joking around with his workmates, and he loves seeing you whenever he's on shift. He had learned more about his workmates over time. He even created a personal Google Sheet containing his workmates' profiles just so he can remember them and their roles in Handsome Coffee (he's very forgetful).
NAME: LEE JIHOON ROLE: Manager / Shift Supervisor
STATUS: Full-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Manages daily operations, schedules staff shifts, handles inventory, trains new employees, reports directly to Kim Seokjin (owner), handles cafe playlist
JOSHUA'S NOTES: his energy resembles a single parent of chaotic children
NAME: BOO SEUNGKWAN
ROLE: Front Counter / Customer Relations
STATUS: Full-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Takes orders, handles customer complaints, recommends drinks, maintains cafe vibe
JOSHUA'S NOTES: loves tea (the gossip), cheekbones higher than my grades, knows customer gossip, great people skills, graduated college early (so smart) with the course of Communication Arts
NAME: KWON SOONYOUNG
ROLE: Coffee & Beverage Specialist STATUS: Full-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: oversees drink preparation, trains baristas, maintains drink quality, creates seasonal specials (subject to approval by Kim Seokjin and Lee Jihoon)
JOSHUA'S NOTES: energetic, tiger obsessed, creative, dances while cleaning, temporarily stopped studying to save up for tuition, sometimes absent to join dance competitions for extra cash, ex-coffee master at Starbucks
NAME: WEN JUNHUI
ROLE: Pastry Handler / Bakery Support
STATUS: Full-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Plates pastries, slices cakes, restocks baked goods, warms food, prepares pastry displays
JOSHUA'S NOTES: martial arts guy, graduated early with the course of Hospitality Management (another smart alec), can work under pressure (honestly so amazing)
NAME: JEON WONWOO
ROLE: Inventory & Logistics Support / Barista / Asst. Manager STATUS: Part-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Tracks ingredients, restocks supplies, manages deliveries, handles maintenance support, helps in drink preparation, acts as manager when Jihoon is on day-off
JOSHUA'S NOTES: calm, quiet, reliable, detail-oriented, full-time gamer while being a part-time worker, no one knows if he goes to uni
NAME: KIM MINGYU
ROLE: Maintenance Support / Cafe Utility / Custodian / Barista STATUS: Part-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Fixes broken chairs, assembles shelves, moves heavy supplies, maintains cafe cleanliness, cleaning floors, sanitizing restrooms, emptying trash, makes drinks during peak hours
JOSHUA'S NOTES: don't let his j.d. fool you bc he's clumsy, 4th year high school, handsome :))
NAME: LEE CHAN
ROLE: Custodian / Barista / Delivery Boy (weekends)
STATUS: Part-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Maintains cafe cleanliness, cleaning floors, sanitizing restrooms, emptying trash, makes drinks during peak hours, washes dishes, handles delivery
JOSHUA'S NOTES: fast-moving, energetic like Soonyoung, 2nd year high school student
NAME: LEE SEOKMIN
ROLE: Barista
STATUS: Part-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Prepares ingredients, makes drinks, restocks drink supplies, assigned at the bar (hot and iced beverage) station JOSHUA'S NOTES: loud, funny, good tandem with Seungkwannie, 4th year high school
NAME: XU MINGHAO
ROLE: Barista / Cafe Design Support
STATUS: Part-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Designs chalkboard menus, creates seasonal posters (subject to approval by Kim Seokjin and Lee Jihoon), decorates cafe according to theme, latte art specialist, assigned at the blended beverage station
JOSHUA'S NOTES: loves tea (the drink), calm, meditates before shift, sells hand-painted phone cases for extra cash on the side, I owe him ₩300 for the hand-painted phone case I bought from him, 4th year high school
NAME: CHWE HANSOL VERNON
ROLE: Barista / Social Media Specialist
STATUS: Part-time
RESPONSIBILITIES: Runs cafe social media, takes photos of drinks, posts promotions, edits reels/videos, assigned at the blended beverage station
JOSHUA'S NOTES: fellow American homie :)), weirdo, 4th year high school (accelerated)
Joining the team, Joshua was assigned at the bar along with Seokmin. Soonyoung was proud that Joshua was able to pick things up fast. It didn't take long for him to get the rhythm of the cafe.
Sometimes, if his schedule allows him, he'd get a morning shift. Morning shifts are really busy. He'd see familiar faces getting their coffee fix before going to class. It's always so loud. Students taking their online classes in random tables with AirPods on, Seungkwan taking orders, professors and students in line to buy themselves breakfast, the coffee machines in effect, the bell of the door ringing, the low hum of the oven, the fridge opening and slamming shut, and one of them calling out orders quickly. It was chaotic, but still doable. After all, the morning shifts are usually for people who are working in Handsome Coffee full-time. Only about 2-3 part-time workers are there.
Afternoon shifts are chill. It's more relaxed because some students are still in class, and others just finished class. Handsome Coffee would be partly occupied for chilling. Sometimes, joggers around the area also go there for their fix of caffeine. This is where Seungkwan steps away from the counter to spill random customer gossip no one has ever asked for.
"Ha Ji-Young is pregnant and the baby daddy is some guy she met at a club. Listen, I'm all for being free, wild, and y'know… the S word, but at least wrap it up. Don't feed into the breeding kink fantasy because once you're ACTUALLY bred, you might regret it. Anyway, I heard her course is pretty stressful, so good luck, I guess." Seungkwan told Joshua on a random Tuesday.
"Where do you get these things?! And who's Ha Ji-Young??" Joshua asked, earning a smack on the arm from Seungkwan.
"Shh, don't be so loud! She's the one wearing an ugly tracksuit by the window. It's so last year. She's probably wearing it because she peaked last year. Did you know a lot of guys and girls follow her wherever she goes? Now they're all gone. Why? Because she's with child. Pretend you don't know, okay? Let's not make her feel awkward." Seungkwan said as they both looked at the subject in question.
"Who are you guys talking about?" Mingyu asked as he got back from bringing the plates to the backroom for Chan to wash.
"Ha Ji-Young." Seungkwan answered. Mingyu's eyes widened and he whispered, "Jinjja? Is it true that she's pregnant?!"
"Like a pregnancy test, POSITIVE." Seungkwan answered. "I heard her crying on the phone a month ago. She keeps telling everyone that she's bloated, but her body is definitely not bloated. Plus, she's a cheerleader, isn't she? She quit cheerleading."
"Oh my god. It's scary that you know a lot." Joshua shook his head as he wiped down the counter. 'Poor Ha Ji-Young', Joshua thought. 'Not safe from Seungkwan's gossip'.
Evening shifts were ones that Joshua loathes. Just as they finish announcing last call orders, they experience a second wave of peak because by some magical force, EVERYONE within the vicinity wants to order Handsome Coffee. Jihoon is at his wits end at this point. He'd call up Seokjin at random times to ask and report things.
"Seokjin-sajangnim, I'm sorry for calling this late. How do we navigate the advanced app orders again?"
"Sajangnim, I'm sorry for calling now, but it's urgent. The customer didn't like their coffee and they're demanding for a Handsome Coupon. Shall I give it or shall I give something else?"
Once the influx of customers are gone, they're too tired to function. However, they still have to clean. Chan usually doesn't work night shifts unless it's a Saturday, so most of the time, Soonyoung washes the dishes because he's quick with it and he's desperate to go home. Jihoon would close sales, Jun would close the pastry area, Joshua or Seokmin would close the bar, Minghao or Wonwoo would close the blended beverage station, and Mingyu and Seungkwan would clean the customer area. Whoever finishes first would help Mingyu and Seungkwan because the customer area has a mezzanine.
Today is kind of a busy day. The university announced that classes have been cancelled for two days, so all the part-time workers are working full shifts. Jihoon informed this to Kim Seokjin, and as thanks, Seokjin told Jihoon that they'll be getting additional payment. Of course, the part-timers were happy, and the full-timers can now rest.
Seungkwan was feeling under the weather, so Wonwoo is currently behind the counter. At Handsome Coffee, regardless of where you're assigned, you're still required to learn the basics about the other stations. As for Joshua, he's only been there for a month. His cashier training hasn't begun because he's not yet beverage certified.
"Welcome to Handsome Coffee." Wonwoo greeted flatly as customers came in.
"Geez, at least pretend to be happy." Soonyoung nudged him. Wonwoo gave the customers a small, fake smile before taking their orders. Soonyoung stood beside Joshua and said, "Alright, let's see what you've got when you're alone. Seokmin-ah, go support Vernon with the blended beverages. He's swamped and no drinks are coming out on his end."
"Got it, boss." Seokmin saluted and quickly went over to Vernon who was, indeed, struggling with the blended drinks. At some point, the blended blue lemonade spilled, so while Vernon was cleaning it, Seokmin made the pending drinks quickly.
Wonwoo sent over the orders to the bar and Soonyoung looked at the screen before turning to Joshua, "Alright, you can do this. Try and do one drink and then when you're done, do two drinks at the same time."
Joshua nodded and began pulling the espresso shot before grabbing the appropriate cup size and pumping caramel syrup in it. By the time the espresso is done pulling, Soonyoung double checks if the shot is good. Thankfully, it is, and Joshua pours it in the cup. He gives it a little swirl before adding oatmilk (requested by the customer) and ice, topping it off with caramel drizzle and a lid. Joshua found comfort in the routine, memorizing recipes and workflows until they became second nature. Well, almost second nature. He still has a lot to memorize, and it's tricky when he's sort of forgetful.
He can never forget your beautiful smile, though. It's his only motivation to go to work.
"Joshua, mocha," Soonyoung called, sliding an empty cup toward him.
Joshua blinked, snapping out of his thoughts before nodding quickly. "Got it."
He pulled the espresso shot before reaching for the syrup, counting the pumps under his breath like he always did. One of the first things he learned about himself while working here was that he tended to forget things when he got overwhelmed. So he developed small habits—quiet counting, mental checklists, and occasionally double-checking the recipe sheet tucked neatly beneath the counter.
Soonyoung slid him two cups to work on to test his speed in making two drinks at the same time. Joshua did well. All he needed was to make sure the milk he was using was correct and if he pulled decaf (upon customer request).
"You're getting fast," Soonyoung remarked from the hand-off area, arms crossed after handing the drinks to their customers.
Joshua let out a small laugh as he grabbed a towel and cleaned the station, "Just trying to keep up."
"And I'm very proud." Soonyoung smiled happily.
Joshua felt a small sense of relief settle in his chest. Maybe this job wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be. Maybe he was finally getting used to it.
The café moved in its usual rhythm— orders being called, drinks sliding across counters, quiet conversations blending into white noise, low hum of the oven, the roar of the blender, the sound of ice being swirled inside the cup. Joshua liked this part of working in Handsome Coffee.
It wasn't peak hours, but the customers were going in and out which annoyed the baristas because they'd always look up every time someone entered and went out due to the door chimes ringing. After five minutes, everything was now calm. No one was leaving and no one was coming in. They all enjoyed the peace.
"Fucking finally! I was getting pissed at the door." Vernon exclaimed as he cleaned the blender.
"Me too, and I don't get angry easily. No wonder Seungkwannie is always annoyed." Seokmin said as he wiped their area clean.
"With or without the door chimes, he's always annoyed." Soonyoung chuckled. "True," said Wonwoo as he cleaned his glasses.
Just then, the door chimes were heard again followed by a hushed "god dammit" from Vernon and a groan from Wonwoo, who was already socially drained.
Joshua was grabbing the caramel sauce to refill it when he looked up out of habit as he heard the door. At first, he didn’t think much of it. Just another customer. Just another order, but then he saw you. You walked in with the same guy you were always with, the guy who isn't your twin, laughing softly at something he said as you approached the counter.
Joshua could've fainted then and there. He turned to Soonyoung and quickly said, "I think dishes need to be washed. You don't need me out here, right? Please let me stay at the back. Please, please, please."
"No, what's wrong with you?" Soonyoung asked. "Stay. You need to polish your skills."
Reluctantly, Joshua faced the espresso machine. He glanced at your direction as you and the guy spoke to Wonwoo about your orders. Then, he just froze. He completely froze. "Oh my god." Joshua muttered under his breath.
The guy you were with was very handsome. He was muscular and he seemed like a nice guy. His shirt was tight on him which made his muscular features more evident.
"Is this what a heart attack feels like?" He thought to himself. There's no way he could compete with someone he assumed was your boyfriend.
He forgot if he was holding anything.
He forgot what he was doing before you came in.
He forgot how to breathe normally.
He forgot where he was because in his mind, it was only you in the cafe.
"Joshua?" Soonyoung's voice snapped him back to reality. Joshua blinked rapidly, realizing he squeezed the caramel sauce too hard, causing it to spill out of the bottle and on his hand.
"Oh shit!" Joshua exclaimed. Just as he was cleaning, he overheard something that made his heart shatter into a million pieces.
"Baby, I dare you to pick something that isn't your usual." The guy said.
"Baby? Baby?!" Joshua thought. "Oh my god, he's her boyfriend?! I'm too late. I'm too late. So fucking stupid of you, Joshu-"
"Joshua! You got two drinks to make, man. C'mon!" Soonyoung clapped his hands in front of Joshua's face.
"Sorry, sorry!" Joshua quickly looked at the screen for your orders and quickly made the drinks: iced salted caramel latte and iced chocolate. Easy, right? To normal Joshua, sure. To a panicked-and-potentially-heartbroken-Joshua, absolutely not.
"Hey, man," A voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Joshua looked up and made eye contact with the guy. "I forgot to tell the cashier… Can you make the salted caramel latte less sweet and less ice?"
"S-Sure!"
"Thanks, man. Oh, and can you make it quick? My girl's in a hurry." The guy smiled sweetly before walking over to the hand-off area where Seokmin is conversing with you about their new strawless lid. Random, but informative.
"Stop!" Soonyoung exclaimed, taking the cups from Joshua's hands. "He asked for salted caramel, less sweet. He didn't ask for diabetes and she ordered the iced chocolate, not chocolate with no milk and no ice. What's wrong with you?"
Soonyoung quickly made the drinks and handed them to Seokmin, to which Seokmin called out, "For Seungcheol?"
The muscular guy you were with walked over to Seokmin as Joshua watched this flawless man grab the drinks and hand one over to you. His jaw hung open.
"Thanks, hon." You smiled at Seungcheol. Joshua didn't know if he wanted to faint because of your pretty smile or if he wanted to die because you called Seungcheol 'hon'. Both of you thanked Seokmin and left the cafe.
Joshua's eye was twitching. He didn't know if he was tired or not. One thing was for sure, though. He was heartbroken.
The next day, Joshua was still heartbroken. To make things worse, he's on the night shift. Jihoon is on day-off, so Wonwoo is at the back, counting the sales from the morning and afternoon shifts. It's 7:00PM, and it's only one hour before closing time when the cafe's foot traffic dies down.
Seungkwan sent bar orders from in-app orders, Joshua and Seokmin made the drinks, Jun was heating the pastries (while pre-closing bit by bit), and Mingyu was washing the dishes in the back. The night was slow, and when the app orders were picked up, the guys had nothing to do. Seungkwan, Joshua, Seokmin, and Jun were now joined by a semi-drenched Mingyu. All five men stood in a circle and began talking about their slowest shift ever. Wonwoo walked out of the back and said, "You can start pre-closing. I know some of you are slow, and I want to go home on time so I can stream." With that, Wonwoo walked back inside.
"I'll get the stuff that we can already put in the back, okay?" Seokmin nudged Joshua as he began getting empty whipped cream canisters, metal dishes with chemical solutions inside for their counter towels, empty pitchers, and more.
"Okay. I'll close half of the bar and blend stations." Joshua said as he walked over to the blended beverage station. There were four blenders, so he turned off two of them and began cleaning the two blenders. Seungkwan helped by replenishing everything needed on all stations. Jun had already (successfully) pre-closed his area, so he was sort of relaxing. Mingyu was at the back washing everything Seokmin brought in and prepping the stuff needed for the morning shift.
Just then, the door chime rang.
"Good evening, welcome to Handsome Coffee!" Seungkwan greeted cheerfully. Joshua looked up and saw you. It was weird because you were alone. No Seungcheol, no twin. Just you. It was a breath of fresh air.
"Hi, I just want the large iced chocolate and a slice of carrot cake, please." You smiled and gave your name and payment. Seungkwan sent over the bar order and Joshua quickly made the drink perfectly. He made sure to add chocolate powder on top. You didn't request any, but it was free, anyway. Unbeknownst to him, Seungkwan was watching with arms crossed.
Jun placed the tray with the carrot cake on the hand-off counter and opened his mouth to call your name out, but Joshua stopped him. "No!" Joshua exclaimed. Jun looked at him weirdly.
"I'll bring it over to her. I mean, uh, she seems busy." Joshua reasoned. Jun shrugged and left the hand-off area without saying anything before joining Mingyu in the back room. Joshua placed the chocolate drink on the tray, walked around the counter, and brought the tray over to where you were sitting.
Feeling a presence walking over to you, you looked up and quickly moved your things to make space for the tray. Joshua set it down and said, "Um, hi. Enjoy! I, uh, I added extra chocolate powder to your drink."
"Oh, I didn't ask for any, but how much is it?"
"It's free! Don't worry about it." Joshua smiled, and you smiled too. Gosh, he was a goner for your smile.
"Oh, well, thank you! I couldn't focus in my dorm because my stupid twin is on a group call, so I decided to come here and do a bit of homework. I'll be out of your hair in no time, I swear." You told him and he shook his head, "No, no, no! Take your time. I insist. I mean, we insist. We won't kick you out."
Joshua grinned and you thanked him. Both of you were staring at each other. For him, it was absolutely the best thing ever. For you, it was getting awkward.
"Um, is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" You awkwardly asked and Joshua cleared his throat, "Nothing else. Um, enjoy again!"
Joshua quickly walked back to his station, and you carried on doing your homework. Joshua quickly cleaned the stations along with Seokmin and by the time they were done, Joshua leaned over the hand-off area, rested his chin on his palm, and stared at you.
"How can someone look so ethereal?" Joshua thought. To him, you resembled a fairy. Soft features, beautiful hair, and tantalizing eyes.
Seungkwan walked past the bar, wiping his hands on his apron after wetting his hands. He slowed, then stopped. Joshua hadn't moved in at least thirty seconds, hunched over with his chin resting on his palm, and eyes locked in one direction. Curious, Seungkwan followed his line of sight.
Bullseye!
There you were seated near the window, alone, doing your homework, blissfully unaware that Joshua was gawking. You were hunched slightly over your notebook, pen-tapping softly against the page as you worked through a difficult part of your homework. Your drink, three-fourths full, sat away from your papers, untouched for the moment as it condensed.
He knew something was up when Joshua wouldn't let Jun call out your name. Seungkwan blinked once. Then twice. Slowly, very slowly, his head turned back toward Joshua, still unmoving, still leaning against the counter like the world had paused just for him. Joshua had a tiny smile on his face as he watched you, chin resting on his palm, eyes soft, and completely, painfully focused. His gears were turning, then Seungkwan's eyebrows shot up.
"No way!" Seungkwan thought. He quickly glanced at you, then at Joshua, then back at you, and back at Joshua again. He repeated the pattern three times before sucked in a quiet breath, pressing his lips together, to keep whatever noise was threatening to escape.
"Oh. Oh, this is bad. This is very bad. Well, not bad-bad," Seungkwan thought as he looked up at the ceiling before smirking to himself and looking at Joshua again. "But juicy-bad."
Seungkwan felt like he was going through some kind of heavenly change. It's other-worldly, even! Joshua had never mentioned any girl since they met, but this? THIS IS GOLD. Seungkwan felt like he was transforming into Sailor Moon.
The information made his chest feel tight because there was suddenly something juicy inside his brain and absolutely no one to tell. Not yet, at least.
Seungkwan shifted his weight from one foot to another, fingers twitching at his sides. Should he stand still? Should he walk around? Should he pretend to check the app for new orders? He wasn't sure.
He looked around quickly; once toward the counter, once toward the back, once toward the entrance, and once toward the security camera. He made sure no one else had noticed before him because if someone else had noticed first? It'd be absolutely-positively-unacceptable! He's the gossip king in this establishment and it should remain that way. Someone else finding out before him would ruin his image (not really, but he's very dramatic).
This discovery was his alone. This discovery was his baby.
His eyes snapped back to Joshua who was still staring, still blinking slowly, and still quiet. Seungkwan swallowed hard, pressing his hand flat against his chest as if that would calm the sudden rush of energy buzzing under his skin.
"Oh my god," Seungkwan thought, holding back a squeal, "Joshua has a crush. Joshua from LA. Joshua-who-forgets-recipes-when-nervous. Joshua fucking Hong has a big, fat crush on iced chocolate drinker-resident-baby girl regular."
Seungkwan sucked in another quiet breath and immediately turned away before Joshua could catch him looking.
Abort eye contact. Abort mission. DO NOT get caught.
He started walking again, a little too fast, then slowed abruptly, forcing himself to look normal as he passed the counter.
"Be normal, be normal, be normal." Seungkwan quietly chanted to himself. His whole body tensed when Joshua shifted slightly, and Seungkwan nearly jumped out of his skin before pretending to adjust his apron.
"Don't look. Don't look. Don't-" He looked at Joshua again to see if he noticed. Thankfully, he didn't. Joshua was still busy staring, still busy being a goner.
Seungkwan bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a sound. This information was too big. This is info overload. His brain can only handle so much info. This was clearly too big to keep to himself. Too dangerous to sit on.
His gaze darted across the cafe. He searched and scanned like how Eliza Schuyler was searching and scanning for answers. He was looking for someone. Not just anyone, oh, no. He needed someone reliable, someone who would understand the gravity of the situation. Someone who-
Seungkwan watched Seokmin enter the production area with whipped cream canisters, ready to be used tomorrow morning. Seokmin neatly put them on the counter before squatting down to check if the fridge is clean.
Seungkwan inhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders tightening as he locked onto his target like a predator spotting prey. He wiped his sweaty palms against his apron, took one steadying breath, then began moving quickly, but careful because this? This was classified information, and he needed to tell someone before he combusted.
Seokmin was still squatting in front of the fridge, humming to himself, as he arranged the items in it. Seungkwan approached him like a thief in the night. He crouched down beside Seokmin so suddenly that Seokmin nearly fell over.
"YA-!" Seokmin was cut-off by Seungkwan's hand covering his mouth. "Shh!" Seungkwan hissed before pulling both of them up and leading them to the pastry area.
He removed his hand from Seokmin's mouth and Seokmin could only blink at him. "Why?" Seokmin could only ask. Seungkwan was acting weirder than usual.
Seungkwan glanced over Seokmin's shoulder and said, "Don't look now."
"…Don't look at what, exactly?" Seokmin asked. By nature, Seokmin wanted to look at whatever it was Seungkwan said not to look at. As his head was about to turn, Seungkwan held his face in place.
"I said, don't look now." Seungkwan said in a low voice.
"You're scaring me." Seokmin whispered. Seungkwan swallowed hard as his hands landed on Seokmin's shoulders. His eyes darted toward Joshua, and then at you. At the same time, you sneezed. Joshua thought it was the cutest thing ever. He quietly chuckled to himself.
Seungkwan looked at Seokmin and breathed, "Joshua…"
Seokmin blinked, "What about him?"
Seungkwan sucked in a quiet breath, his shoulders rising like he was about to deliver breaking news on national television. "Joshua," he whispered, voice trembling with carely-contained excitement, "has a crush."
Seokmin's eyes widened as his entire body froze. "…No." He whispered in disbelief.
Seungkwan nodded aggressively, "Yes."
"No."
"Yes." Seungkwan nodded faster.
Seokmin scrunched his eyebrows and covered his mouth as it hung open, "On who?"
This time, Seungkwan allowed a shit-eating grin to grace his lovely face, "Iced chocolate drinker resident baby girl."
If Seokmin's mouth was open before, it was now on the floor. Sensing that Seokmin was about to react loudly, Seungkwan whispered, "DON'T expose him."
Seokmin nodded frantically and crossed his heart. The two men stared at each other before Seokmin said, "You're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"You're joking, then."
"I'm not joking."
Not able to contain himself any longer, Seokmin turned his head to look at Joshua. "I said don't look!" Seungkwan hissed, but it was too late. Seokmin was now looking at the lovesick idiot that was Joshua Hong. Seokmin looked back at Seungkwan and said, "Oh my god."
"I told you so." Seungkwan said.
"You weren't lying."
"No, I was not."
"You weren't joking."
"No, I was not. When have I ever joked about gossip?" Seungkwan crossed his arms.
"What do we do?" Seokmin asked.
"Absolutely nothing. I'll tell you when I have plans. I'll think about it at home. I didn't graduate college early for nothing, you know." Seungkwan answered.
"Sometimes, I forget that you graduated ahead of us." Seokmin shook his head.
Seungkwan rolled his eyes, "Don't hate me, 'cause you ain't me."
"You deserve a raise for this discovery!" Seokmin said playfully to which Seungkwan agreed.
CHAPTER 3: NO ONE MOURNS THE WICKED? NO. NO ONE MOURNS THE LOVESICK, ESPECIALLY NOT CHOI SEUNGCHEOL
"Yes, the wind blows a little bit colder, and we're all getting older, and the clouds are moving on with every autumn breeze."
The song playing in Choi Seungcheol's headphones was indeed a stark contrast to his appearance. The man was very much aware of how he looks. Tall, fair-skinned, with thick brows, an intimidating stare, pink lips, broad shoulders, and a dorito-like build, and dark-toned, oversized clothes to pair with scary-looking black boots.
Screw everyone, right? He loves Disney. He loves the songs, the movies, and he planned on working very hard to go to Disneyland. It's his dream. To everyone else, it seemed so silly. To him, it was his life's mission to give himself a great life to go to every Disneyland in the world. So, forgive him if he's enjoying Princess Anna's voice to kickstart his Monday.
After all, the song parallels his life. It's a new academic year, and he's now a third year college student taking up BS Business Administration Major in Marketing Management. Humming along to "Some Things Never Change", Seungcheol decided it was best to go to Handsome Coffee to start his day.
The door chimed as he entered, followed by a cheerful greeting from Seungkwan. He was somewhat familiar with the staff at his favorite coffee shop.
"Absolutely! How's the new academic year treating you so far?" Seungkwan asked politely. He was always blessed with communication skills. Those skills alone granted him a bonus from none other than Kim Seokjin himself.
"Oh, it's been quite stressful. I know I'll rise above it, though." Seungcheol chuckled. "Anyway, I don't want to keep you with my boring anecdotes. I'll just have a large iced Americano with two packs of Stevia."
"Oh? Trying something different, are we?" Seungkwan smiled as he punched Seungcheol's order. Seokmin stared at Seungcheol as he gave money to Seungkwan.
"Joshua's competition is a grade-A hunk! Oh, he's already losing. Poor Joshua." Seokmin thought to himself as he shook his head.
"Do I have something on my face?" A voice pulled Seokmin out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Seungcheol looking at him.
"Oh, no! Nothing is, uh, on your face. You're just, um, very-" Seokmin panicked, earning a painful nudge from Seungkwan.
"Don't mind him. He just graduated high school. He's now a freshman student here." Seungkwan smiled before eyeing Seokmin.
"Oh! Congratulations! What course are you taking?" Seungcheol asked, now interested in the weird barista.
"Music. Bachelor of Arts in Music." Seokmin answered. "Which means I can sing very well."
"Oh my god, he didn't ask that." Seungkwan muttered under his breath. Who could blame Seokmin? He was nervous.
"But now, there's nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love asiiiide! I'm out of my head, hopelessly devoted to youuuu! Hopelessly devoted to you~" Seokmin sang beautifully.
Seungkwan gave him a look. Jun clapped and cheered from his post. Jihoon watched from the back room's doorway with arms crossed. Minghao's jaw dropped. Seungcheol was too stunned to speak.
"That was... wow! Best of luck to your endeavours in music." Seungcheol smiled. "I'll, uh, wait for my drink over there. Excuse me."
Seungcheol walked over to the hand-off area and went on his phone. Seungkwan gave Seokmin a look, "Really?"
"I was nervous!"
"You're just like Joshua. Just be cool! Don't be obvious." Seungkwan hissed before going back to the counter. Seokmin began making his drink and handed it over to Seungcheol who smiled, thanked him, and left.
As soon as he left Handsome Coffee, Seungcheol was greeted by the cool air. He took a sip of his iced Americano and hummed in approval.
"It seems the barista isn't only a talented singer. He's also a talented barista." Seungcheol said to himself.
"Who ya talkin' to?" A voice said next to him, earning a tiny jump from him. He looked to his side, and there stood his best frenemy, Yoon Jeonghan, who had a shit-eating grin after being satisfied in giving Seungcheol a fright.
"Don't do that! Jesus." Seungcheol clutched his chest before walking, with Jeonghan matching his stride.
"Where's my twin?" Jeonghan asked. "She left early."
"How am I supposed to know? I'm not her keeper." Seungcheol said as he changed the song. No hate to Pocahontas, but he just didn't feel like listening to Colors of the Wind because he might cry, and crying in front of the Yoon Jeonghan would be a crime and he intends to be out of Jeonghan Jail forever.
Jeonghan took a peek at his friend's phone and snorted, "Really? 'Part of Your World'?"
"What? It's a classic!" Seungcheol exclaimed. Jeonghan nodded, "I know it is. Talk to me when you've listened to the Encanto soundtrack already."
"You just want to be Isabela Madrigal." Seungcheol eyed Jeonghan suspiciously.
"Absolutely! We both have great hair, both pretty, both soft-spoken, both great dressers, and we're both the older siblings. Convince me that I'm not her, and I'll shave my hair off." Jeonghan smirked to himself as he winked at a group of girls. Seungcheol rolled his eyes and continued walking.
Jeonghan quickly stood in front of him, blocking his way, "Where's my twin?"
"I told you, I don't know!"
"Well, she left early and she usually stays with you if she's not with me. So, where is she? Did you commit murder? I was just joking about wanting to strangle her because she ate my muffin that one time, but I didn't mean it, Choi Seungcheol!"
"Okay, whoa! Do I look like I'm capable of murder?!" Seungcheol shrieked.
Jeonghan eyed him up and down before nodding, "You seem like the type."
"I take offense."
"You should. I'm the best Communication Arts student on this campus, and I intend to use my degree to expose you!" Jeonghan pointed at him.
If Jeonghan didn't look so pretty with his bangs, Seungcheol would've given him an uppercut by now.
"I told you, I didn't see her. And stop overreacting! She probably hung out at a friend's dorm or something."
"I love my twin, but she has no friends. She only has you and me." Jeonghan said, looking at his nails as they began walking again.
Just then, they bump into someone causing Seungcheol to spill coffee all over the unknown victim.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Seungcheol apologized. "Oh, I ruined your shirt. I feel terrible. Wait a second, you look familiar. Do I know you?"
"I don't think so." Joshua panicked. "I have to go!"
"Wait!" Jeonghan stopped him, "I know you. I know you very, very well."
"You do?" Joshua gulped as sweat began to form on his forehead.
"Mhm," Jeonghan nodded with crossed arms. "You were in one of my general subjects last year! John? Joseph? Jobe? James?"
"Geez, name all of the people in the Bible, will you?" Seungcheol huffed.
"He had a biblical name!" Jeonghan exclaimed.
"It's Joshua." Joshua said in a quiet voice. Seungcheol and Jeonghan looked at him. "I'm gonna need you to speak up, hon." Jeonghan said.
"It's, um, Joshua. My name's Joshua." Joshua said.
"How is that a biblical name?"
"Ahh, yes. The church boy from LA! I remember you now."
Seungcheol and Jeonghan said at the same time. They looked at each other and chuckled lightly.
"Please don't hurt me." Joshua said in a hushed voice.
"Hurt you? I'm too delicate to hurt anyone." Jeonghan scoffed. "Worry about him." Jeonghan cocked his head to the side.
"Me?! What's wrong with me? I couldn't hurt a fly." Seungcheol whined.
Jeonghan snickered, "Tell that to your outfit."
Seungcheol looked down at his clothes and groaned. If things were different, Joshua would've chuckled, but this was his reality now. He can't possibly chuckle, nope. Not when he's in front of his crush's boyfriend. His crush's muscular boyfriend. He can't compete with that.
"Anyway, Josh, may I call you Josh? Sorry about your outfit. I'll make it up to you when I see you again." Seungcheol said.
"No worries!" Joshua began to walk away, but stopped himself. He turned around and said, "For the record, Joshua's a biblical name because Joshua was Moses' aide. He's very loyal, and when Moses died, he took over. So, um, yeah... just thought you should know since, uh, you asked how 'Joshua' is a biblical name. Anyway, bye!"
The two men watched as Joshua walked away with confusion written all over their faces. "That guy is so awkward." Jeonghan shook his head. "He should relax."
"HANDSOME COFFEE!" Seungcheol grinned as Jeonghan eyed him weirdly. "He's a barista from Handsome Coffee! That's where I know him." Jeonghan rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and began walking with Seungcheol trailing beside him.
Joshua felt like he made a fool out of himself in front of your extremely hot boyfriend. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a pebble in frustration. Now he felt like a complete loser. Just as he was wallowing in his sadness, you breezed right past him k-drama style. Everything was in slow motion for him. He paused and watched you run to Seungcheol and Jeonghan.
"Hey, wait up!" You said, loud enough for Seungcheol and Jeonghan to hear. They turned their heads and stopped walking when they saw you.
"Oh, finally! Your twin was about to kill me!" Seungcheol said, resting one hand on his hip.
"Where HAVE you been?! I've been looking all over for you! I've been through the mud and the muck, high and low, through the jungle, in the Amazon rainforest, and in mom and dad's attic just looking for you!" Jeonghan huffed and stomped one leg.
"Such a drama queen." You sighed and ruffled your twin's hair when you finally caught up to them, not noticing Joshua's stare. You know who did notice? Choi Seungcheol.
Seungcheol looked at the bright-eyed Joshua who was too busy staring at you. He was too busy giving Joshua a look, not knowing you and Jeonghan started walking away.
"Cheol, you coming?" Jeonghan called out. Seungcheol glanced at him and nodded, "Yeah!"
"Oh, Joshua likes her, and he likes her A LOT." Seungcheol thought to himself.
-
Choi Seungcheol was very bored. He was physically in class, but he was bored. He stared at the professor with a bored expression. He rested chin on his palm as his mind began to wander on Joshua or 'Joshua the church boy from LA' as Jeonghan calls him.
Based on what he saw, it was clear to him that Joshua liked you. Now that he really thought about it, he'd always notice Joshua doing the extra mile for you, but you didn't notice.
"Oh, this is a lot of whipped cream, but I absolutely love it!" You grinned as Joshua handed you the iced chocolate drink. "I even added, uh, extra chocolate powder." Joshua said nervously as he wiped his hands on his apron. "How much will I pay for the additionals?" Seungcheol asked, pulling out his wallet. "Um, no! No charge at all. It's totally free. It's fine. You're fine, so, so fine. I MEAN NOT IN A 'YOU'RE SO HOT' KIND OF WAY. Not that you AREN'T hot, but, um, anyway, enjoy." Joshua quickly ran to the back room. "Well, that was weird." You chuckled and sipped your drink. "Let's go, hon."
If Seungcheol was right about his guess, Joshua has probably liked you for a long time now. Judging by his overall, quick scan on Joshua, he was able to conclude that he's a genuine guy. He's a guy he could trust if he or Jeonghan aren't around to help you. Besides, he thought you two would look cute together.
He quickly grabbed his pen and opened the back of his notebook to start writing his crazy idea.
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL'S PLANS:
1. Make Joshua jealous
2. Say and do things to make Joshua spiral
3. DON'T TELL HANNIE
4. Confront Joshua
5. Be Joshua's wingman
"Poor guy probably thinks Y/N and I are dating." Seungcheol chuckled to himself. To Seungcheol, this was very interesting. The last interesting thing that happened in his life was when his ex-girlfriend totally picked a fight with you on a random Saturday at the mall. Jeonghan was with you at that time and both boys didn't know what to do, but stared. It wasn't until you yelled, "Help me!" that they sprung into action. Seungcheol broke up with the girl then and there because no one treats his baby girl like that. Okay, that was cringey, but you're his and Jeonghan's baby.
You were born minutes after Jeonghan, and you had a few complications which actually made you a bit weaker than other kids, but you were fine. Seeing Joshua made Seungcheol believe that he could look after you.
Seungcheol tapped the end of his pen against the paper, lips slowly curling into a grin as he glanced back at his list, eyes scanning the messy bullet points he had scribbled in the back of his notebook.
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL'S PLANS:
1. Make Joshua jealous
2. Say and do things to make Joshua spiral
3. DON'T TELL HANNIE
4. Confront Joshua
5. Be Joshua's wingman
He underlined Number 1 twice. Not because he was evil. Not because he wanted to make Joshua miserable, but because Joshua's reactions were HILARIOUS. And honestly, harmless fun never hurt anybody. Right?
A slow grin spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair, completely ignoring whatever lecture his professor was rambling about. All he had to do was act a little closer to you than usual. Maybe sit beside you more, sling an arm around your shoulders, call you something ridiculous like "baby" just to see Joshua short-circuit in real time. To make things more in his favor, cute nicknames are normal in your friendship and it's yours and Jeonghan's habit to call everyone "hon".
Seungcheol pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing out loud. Yeah, this was going to be fun. Very fun. While he's busy doing the first thing on his list, he'd observe Joshua at the same time. After all, a good strategist studied his subjects very well.
For this study, Joshua was his subject and his subject isn't subtle at all. Over the course of his short time observing how Joshua acted around you, plus the k-drama-like gaze he saw yesterday, Seungcheol realized that Joshua was a goner. A lovesick idiot whose eyes followed you like a lost puppy, whose hands trembled whenever he handed over your drink, whose ears would turn pink every time you'd speak to him.
Seungcheol leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm again. His boredom? Gone. It was now replaced with something far more interesting—anticipation. After all, tomorrow's a new day and he already knew exactly where you three would be; Handsome Coffee.
And tomorrow, the experiment will begin.
CHAPTER 4: SEUNGCHEOL CALLS THE SHOTS, JOSHUA SCREWS UP THE SHOTS, AND HANNIE NEEDS A SHOT OF SUGAR BEFORE HE COLLAPSES
"Welcome to Handsome Coffee!" Seokmin greeted cheerfully with a wave.
"Ugh, I regret this already." Seungkwan moped. Jun took a (well-deserved) vacation leave and went back to China for a while, so Seungkwan manned the pastry area today and left the cashier operations to the next best option to take his place (sometimes): Lee Seokmin.
Seungkwan crossed his arms as he watched Seokmin take orders like a pro. Was he jealous? No. He was hired way before Seokmin, anyway. Was he upset? No, he's a professional through and through.
Okay, maybe he was a teeny tiny bit jealous. Interacting with customers is his favorite part of the job. How the hell can he interact with anyone from the pastry section? All he can do all day is fix the display, bake, and reheat. It was boring! No offense to Jun, of course. I'm sure he had fun doing all this pastry stuff.
Seungkwan just found it... a little bit unfair. Mingyu got to interact with customers when he bussed tables. Soonyoung got to talk to customers for a bit while making drinks along with Joshua. Vernon got to speak to them at hand-off. He wanted that too, but Seokmin wasn't trained for baking yet. Besides, Jun submitted his name to Jihoon prior to leaving.
"Damn you, Wen Junhui." Seungkwan thought. "I don't mean it. Please bring me back tangerines."
Just as Seungkwan sighed for the nth time that day, he turned to the door. It seemed to never close as customers always filed in. He didn't know Kim Seokjin that well, and they only met a handful of times when he came to visit, but Seungkwan was sure that with all the money their branch was earning, Kim Seokjin could open a third branch somewhere.
The line was pretty long, so everyone was busy. Except for Seungkwan. No one really ordered pastries when it's peak and if they did, Seungkwan did his job quickly. After all, it was easy to reheat pastries. He folded his arms on top of the pastry case and rested his chin on top of his hands. Just then, the girl of Joshua's dreams entered with two guys. Seungkwan's eyes widened and he turned to Seokmin, who was busy taking customers' orders back to back. He turned to you, then at Seokmin, back at you, then at Joshua (who was doing his best getting orders out quickly with Soonyoung getting quicker and quicker in making drinks which was pretty intimidating), then back at Seokmin, and then back at you.
He gulped and put his hands on the sides of his head, tugging his hair a little bit. Minghao left the back room while putting his apron on to join the production area. His shift just started. He quickly supported Vernon in his area because he was on his own which meant Minghao got to do hand-off duty too.
"Another person to be jealous of." Seungkwan thought, but it's not about his jealousy right now. It's about Joshua and his crush which means his groundbreaking discovery can now be seen in real time. But how can he get Seokmin's attention?
Seungkwan thought real hard about it. Then his thinking got cut short because Seokmin sent over several pastry orders.
"Ah, shit." Seungkwan muttered under his breath. He read through the pastry orders quickly and prepared them in fast movements.
“Wow, look at Kwannie go! Think you can do it as quickly as him, Josh? Try it. Don’t let the orders swallow you whole.” Soonyoung said to Joshua as he dumped half-made drinks by his side. The drinks were almost complete, they just needed ice.
Seungkwan paid them no mind. He was DESPERATE to get these orders out quickly. Of course, he had to make sure everything was complete before placing it on the hand-off area. After all, he didn’t want to keep going back and forth for every request. When he was done, he looked up and saw that your little group was nearing the counter.
Seungkwan looked at Seokmin with daggers. He needed Seokmin to look ASAP. Pretending to get paper towels from the cabinet under the counter, Seungkwan cleared his throat loudly. When Seungkwan looked up to see that Seokmin was still busy talking, he had to pull out the big guns a.k.a pretending to mentor Seokmin while on the counter.
Seungkwan quickly stood up and smiled at the customer. He glanced at Seokmin’s screen and ‘tsked’, causing Seokmin to stop talking to look at him.
“Double check before you send the order. We both know Soonyoung will get mad if he makes the wrong drink.” Seungkwan said tauntingly, knowing that Seokmin gets nervous easily. As Seokmin was double checking, Seungkwan leaned over and whispered in his ear while pretending to point at the screen.
“Iced-chocolate-drinker-resident-baby-girl is back with the two guys and they’re almost near.” He whispered quickly. Luckily, Seokmin was able to get it as he looked up and saw your group laughing about something. He turned to Seungkwan in a panicked state because if Joshua freezes in front of Soonyoung AGAIN, it’ll be bad for his barista career.
Then, Seokmin slowly smiled. Once he was done with his current transaction, he turned to Joshua, who was taking a breather, and smiled the “I-know-something-you-don’t” smile which weirded Joshua out when they made eye contact, but shrugged it off.
Seungkwan slapped Seokmin’s arm and shook his head, “Don’t! Don’t look at him. Just focus.”
After transacting another customer, it was finally your turn.
“Standing around made me very tired. I’ll go find us a seat. You know what I want, right?” Jeonghan said with crossed arms before he left to find a seat on the ground floor. He hated the mezzanine.
You and Seungcheol approached the counter with bright smiles. Seungkwan’s eyes were wide, Seokmin bit his lip from laughing, and Seungcheol was waiting for this moment. “Baby, what’s Hannie’s usual again?” Seungcheol asked, making sure to emphasize ‘baby’.
Hearing the familiar voice, Joshua quickly looked up and froze. His girl, you, were standing right there with him. Seungcheol, through his peripheral vision, noticed Joshua’s spiral.
“Bingo.” Seungcheol thought to himself as he smiled at Seokmin. For extra measure to make Joshua spiral, he put his arm around you and pulled you close. Seeing this, Joshua went stiff.
“Hannie mentioned he didn’t want an iced Americano today, said he needed sugar in his system.” You said in a hushed voice as you looked up at him. Seungcheol looked at you and nodded, “Okay, so what’ll he get?”
“The iced blended strawberry lemonade.” You answered with a cute smile. Seungkwan and Seokmin watched the whole thing and they had to admit, you guys were kinda cute. But they were rooting for their no.1 LA boy.
“Okay, tell the nice cashier what you and Hannie are getting.” Seungcheol said as he pushed some hair out of your face. Joshua wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He was just… frozen. He was the standing guy emoji.
Seokmin punched your orders as you turned to Seungcheol, “What’re you getting, hon?”
“I’m getting the sea salt latte for a change. Make it large and make it less sweet.” Seungcheol smiled at Seokmin. Recognizing him, Seungcheol asked, “Hey, how’s music coming along?”
Joshua looked at Seokmin whose eyes were wide, “Um…”
“You know each other?” You furrowed your brows.
“Not really.” Seungcheol chuckled. “He sang for everyone at the cafe yesterday. Rad voice.”
“T-Thanks!” Seokmin said nervously. Seungcheol paid for the drinks and slid his hand from your arm to your lower back to guide you to the hand-off area.
Joshua was a mess at this point. He knew that Soonyoung was frustrated at him and he knew he’d get an earful later. He kept dropping things, spilling the milk, and would forget how many times he pumped the syrup.
Just as he spilled the milk again, Soonyoung sighed, “Just throw away the whole milk, will you?”
“Sorry, sorry!” Joshua said as he quickly wiped down the counter. Of course, Seungcheol saw everything and because he’s a menace, Seungcheol smirked to himself and said, “Hey! Joshua, right?”
Joshua nearly dropped the whole drink. Thank god he was able to compose himself before putting it on the hand-off area. “Yes. Yup, that’s me. Hi!” Joshua rambled.
“Are you okay? You look… nervous. Did something happen?” Seungcheol asked with the best look of concern on his face. He knew Joshua wasn’t fine at all.
“I’m okay!” Joshua exclaimed as he handed Seungcheol a tray of their drinks.
“Baby, go ahead and get your drink. I’ll get mine and Hannie’s.” Seungcheol said sweetly. You smiled at him and got your drink from the tray Joshua was holding. Both men watched as you took a sip of your drink and hummed in approval.
“It’s so good.” You raved.
“But you always get this drink!” Seungcheol laughed, causing you to laugh too. Oh, Joshua wanted to die right then and there. He didn’t know if he was jealous of Seungcheol or happy that you liked how he made your drink.
“Yah, hurry up!” Jeonghan called from the table nearby with his legs crossed and hands resting on the table.
“Well, that’s our cue.” You said before looking back at Joshua with a smile, “Thanks again!”
“Thanks, Josh. See ya around.” Seungcheol smirked before walking towards Jeonghan with you.
Joshua, out of habit, watched you and Seungcheol leave. Obviously, Seungcheol knew that Joshua was watching. To add another layer of harmless fun, Seungcheol held the tray with one hand and placed his other hand on your lower back to guide you through the cafe. Joshua noticed. He always did.
Joshua gulped and looked down to continue working because if he didn’t, he knew Soonyoung would have his head. His chest felt tight, his hands were trembling, sweat was forming on his forehead, and he forgot how to make the sea salt foam caramel latte. Soonyoung would kill him for real now.
“Pull s-shot,” Joshua muttered to himself as he shakily pulled the espresso shots, “Four pumps of caramel syrup.” Joshua pumped four times then stopped, “Or was it five? Shit.”
The espresso shots were done. Joshua quickly poured it into the cup. Then he added milk and ice. As he grabbed the lid, Soonyoung stopped him, “Yah, what drink is that?”
“S-Sea salt f-foam caramel latte.” Joshua stuttered. Soonyoung nodded, “And where exactly is the sea salt foam?”
Joshua looked at the drink he was holding and said, “Shit. Um…” He grabbed a clean spoon and scooped some of the ice out of the cup. Soonyoung shook his head and continued working. Joshua quickly placed the drink on the counter before bending down to get the whipping cream from the fridge. He placed the whipping cream down in a hurry causing the drink he made to spill.
“Oh my god, Joshua! Focus!” Soonyoung said. He was frustrated. Joshua felt so bad.
There were no customers in line now, so all the pressure was in production now. Seokmin and Seungkwan looked at each other while everyone was busy. They bit their lips from laughing. They both understood that Joshua was currently spiraling and it was hilarious because he was usually so put together. It’s just funny because all it took was you to turn him into a nervous wreck.
You and Seungcheol finally joined an annoyed Jeonghan. “Yah, I was waiting for a long time! How hard is it to order? Jesus.” Jeonghan complained.
Seungcheol set the tray down and Jeonghan quickly grabbed his drink. You and Seungcheol watched as he took a sip and he made a face. “What’s wrong?” You asked softly with a hint of amusement. Your twin really was something.
“It lacks sweetness. I might die over here with no sugar in my body!” Jeonghan sighed exasperatedly.
“You can raise your sugar if you eat a lot of rice.” Seungcheol suggested.
“That’s different. I want SUGAR as in, like, something sweet.” Jeonghan sighed. “This drink is sweet, but not sweet enough.”
“Do you want to make it sweeter?” You asked him. Just then, Seungcheol had a bright idea to make Joshua spiral even more.
“I don’t want to be a burden to the baristas-”
“It’s fine. Adding sugar is free. Who knows? They might remake it too.” Seungcheol suggested, earning an impressed nod from Jeonghan.
“Alright. I’ll ask them.” Jeonghan said as he started to get up. “No, you can sit. Let Y/Nie ask.” Seungcheol said.
“Why me?” You pouted.
“Yeah, why her? It’s my drink.” Jeonghan said, crossing his arms. Seungcheol turned to you and said, “Because, baby, you’re the youngest in this table.”
“We were all born the same year, and Hannie and I have the same birthday.” You frowned.
“I’m older by, like, five minutes. That counts. Run along, Y/Nie. I’ll buy you dinner tonight.” Jeonghan said as he handed his drink to you.
Just as Joshua thought he could breathe, you walk right up to him at the hand-off area. His breath hitched once more and he swore he was about to cry. He was so overwhelmed.
“Hi, there! It’s me again.” You chuckled lightly.
“God, thanks for blessing my eyesight.” Joshua thought. “Hi! Is, um, what happened?” Joshua asked. “Wow. Real smooth, Shua. Real smooth. What a stupid question.” Joshua mentally facepalmed.
“I’m so sorry about this, but Hannie over there wasn’t satisfied with his drink. He said it wasn’t sweet enough. Is there something you could do…” You read his nametag, “...Joshua?”
His brain, figuratively, exploded. His heart was beating very fast. He could basically hear his classmate, Changbin, screaming, “LISTEN TO MY HEARTEU BEATEU!~” Joshua could hear fireworks. Joshua could get lost in your eyes and he wouldn’t mind. In fact, he’d burn the maps just to remain lost in your eyes.
“Um, hello?” You waved a hand in front of him and he snapped out of it. “Sorry! Um, yeah, I-I can fix it.” Joshua said.
You had doubts, though. The man didn’t look fine at all. He was sweaty, pale, and he looked like he was about to faint. “Um, I don’t doubt your skills, Joshua. I’m sure you’re a good barista, but is there anyone else available to make the drink? You look… sick. No offense.”
“None taken.” Joshua said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Um… what drink is it?”
“Uh, blended strawberry lemonade.” You smiled.
“Okay.” Joshua said as he grabbed the drink from you and asked Vernon to remake the drink while pointing at you. Vernon looked over and waved at you.
“Do you know her?” Joshua panicked.
“No.” Vernon snorted. “I’ll remake the drink. Go entertain her.”
Joshua got out of his hair and walked back to you. “Vernon’s making the drink… again. I hope, um, it’ll be enough for uh-”
“Hannie.”
“Yeah, him.”
You both stared at each other awkwardly, so you just looked around, admiring the design of the place. Joshua just looked at you, but he didn’t want to be creepy, so he looked for something to do.
Seungcheol usually paid attention, but he was getting on Jeonghan’s nerves because he kept looking over at yours and Joshua’s direction. Jeonghan let it slide at first, but he was starting to be suspicious. “Is Cheollie in love with Y/Nie?” Jeonghan thought. “Oh, hell no. Not on my watch.”
“So she’s totally being mean and I said- Cheollie, are you even listening?” Jeonghan raised a brow at him. Seungcheol quickly looked at him and nodded.
Jeonghan squinted, “I’m not dumb. Why do you keep looking over there?”
Seungcheol froze for half a second, but he instantly brushed it off with a shrug, “Nothing interesting.”
“Nothing interesting?” Jeonghan’s brows were now raised and he scoffed, “I don’t believe you because if it really wasn’t interesting, you’d only look once. You, my friend, have been looking over your shoulder for a few times now. I’m surprised you haven’t broken your neck.”
Seungcheol’s cheeks turned pink. He was caught, but he won’t let himself falter. “Maybe something interesting happened, no?” Seungcheol said.
“Yeah, you’re not slick and I’ll find out.” Jeonghan smirked lightly. “I always find out, Choi Seungcheol.”
You and Joshua remained in silence. “Thanks again for making my drink. It was good.” You said with a tight-lipped smile.
“No problem. I had fun making it.” Joshua replied. “Geez, Vernon. How long does it take to make the fucking drink?” Joshua thought.
Vernon joined Joshua at the hand-off area, “Here you go. Sorry it took so long.” He left as quickly as he came. You reached for the drink and thanked Joshua, “Thanks again and give my thanks to the guy who remade Hannie’s drink.”
“Okay.” Joshua said in a small voice as he watched you walk away. Unbeknownst to him, Seungkwan and Seokmin were internally freaking out. Soonyoung looked at both of them and shook his head, “Why is everyone so weird today?” He muttered under his breath.
You walked back to the table with Jeonghan’s drink. Jeonghan looked like an excited puppy when he saw the remade drink. It looked even prettier than the previous one. Jeonghan immediately grabbed it from you, took a sip, and his face brightened instantly.
He let out a dramatic sigh, “Finally! Sugar!”
Seungcheol watched you sit, but his eyes quickly darted to Joshua across the cafe. As usual, Joshua was watching again before he went back to work even though he was barely functioning. His movements were slower, his eyes were unfocused, his demeanor was quiet, and he sent occasional glances toward your table. Being a senior barista, Soonyoung noticed Joshua’s behavior and he was tired of it.
Soonyoung put his hands on his hips and gave Joshua a tired look as he knocked over the salted caramel syrup. “Shua, what’s wrong with you today? Just tell me if you’re tired. We can send you home. It’s fine, really.” Soonyoung sighed. He’d rather send Joshua home than have him around and create a mess. Wonwoo and Jihoon were starting to wonder about the amount of supplies they were losing. Soonyoung didn’t tell them it was because of Joshua’s accidents, of course.
You, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan fell into conversation about random stuff as usual. Being the guy that he is, Jeonghan took out his mini fan and turned it on. Just as he sat comfortably, he glanced at Seungcheol who was busy looking between you and the barista at the counter. It was subtle, but not too subtle. Jeonghan narrowed his eyes and began observing the barista Seungcheol was looking at. That’s when he noticed the barista staring at you with love in his eyes. Jeonghan looked at you and then back at the barista. He raised his brows in realization, “The barista likes Y/Nie!”
Jeonghan smirked to himself before he paid attention to your funny anecdote. Meanwhile, Seungcheol let out a satisfied sigh. He knew he got Joshua. He came to a conclusion that Joshua, the barista from Handsome Coffee and the guy from university, is lovesick. “The subject is a confirmed lovesick.” Seungcheol thought to himself. He was pleased that he was able to knock down three steps in one day.
After three hours, your drinks are long gone. Jeonghan stretched dramatically and said, “I’m sick of this place. Let’s go before I end up not coming here anymore.”
“Yeah, let’s go. My butt hurts from sitting.” You chuckled. The three of you stood up and grabbed your things. Seungcheol noticed Joshua staring at you again as he carried your bag for you. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Joshua immediately looked away. Needless to say, Seungcheol was very entertained.
As the three of you were walking, you turned and bid goodbye to the staff. “Bye, guys! Bye, Joshua!” You smiled and waved. Your action gained attention from Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Seungkwan.
Joshua grinned too wide and bright. He smiled and waved too, “See you soon!”
Seungcheol playfully smirked and put an arm around you, “See you again, Josh.”
Joshua wanted to crash out when he saw that. Like, of course a girl like you would have a boyfriend like that. Seungkwan and Seokmin were holding each other, with one hand on their mouths as they stood by the pastry case, watching it all unfold.
“Oh my god, oh my god. Did you see that?” Seungkwan hissed. Seokmin nodded, “I did! Joshua faltered. I felt him falter.”
Joshua watched as you walked away with Seungcheol’s arm around you with Jeonghan eyeing him up and down before following. Seungcheol was very pleased. He wasn’t allergic to love. It’s quite the opposite, actually. He loved love. He just isn’t a fan of grown men acting like a lovesick fool instead of confronting their true feelings towards a woman they like.
No one mourned the lovesick. Especially not Choi Seungcheol.
Joshua stood frozen behind the counter, still staring at the door long after you left. The espresso machine hissed beside him, snapping him back to reality. He exhaled shakily. “Tomorrow,” he told himself. He’d do better tomorrow.
CHAPTER 5: SO THIS IS LOVE
Yoon Jeonghan. The campus pretty boy. He knew it, you knew it, Seungcheol it, and everyone else knew it. Girls and boys always double-take when they look at him. It’s both a blessing and a curse. He likes the attention, but sometimes he wants to be left alone. However, it was difficult for a communication arts major like himself to be alone. He’s constantly surrounded by people. It made him envy you. You’re taking up BS Nutrition and Dietetics. He’s happy that you’re happy in your studies, but he envies the peace you have. He loved you—his little sister, even if you were his twin.
Jeonghan is meticulous about appearances. Every morning, he plans both of your outfits. It had to be coordinated, of course. Being twins meant looking like twins, and in his mind, it made it easier to keep track of you. It was only natural. Sometimes, Jeonghan would feel things that you were feeling. That’s why he took extra care of you and he made sure you two never played roughly. He also didn’t want you to experience heartbreak. So, he’d squish every guy’s moves on you. Most of the time, he’d thank the Lord for making you super oblivious to romance. “You’re lucky to have me as a twin”, he’d often say.
Today, on Jeonghan’s free day, he had a mission. He’d straight up confront Joshua alone. Jeonghan is very direct. He doesn’t beat around the bush and he wants to observe Joshua. Seungcheol seemed to be teasing the guy by being extra sweet with his sister and Jeonghan felt the need to check it out. On his first scan of Joshua, he almost approved because Joshua didn’t seem like the type of guy to break your heart. Seungcheol might tease, but Jeonghan would be the judge.
Jeonghan decided to pay him a visit at Handsome Coffee. He entered your room to check if you were still sleeping and when he saw you still knocked out, he smiled to himself before going through your closet. He was wearing pink, so you should wear pink as well. He picked out the perfect pink outfit and laid it on your bed before leaving the room. With one last look in the mirror and a swipe of lip balm, Jeonghan grabbed his tote bag and left.
-
“Got me spinning like a ballerina, feelin’ gangsta every time I see ya”, Jeonghan sang softly to himself as he walked towards the infamous cafe. He pushed the door open and was immediately hit with the familiar aroma of roasted beans hitting him like a warm hug. He scanned the cafe and smiled when he saw Joshua. He instantly fell in line.
Joshua’s working the counter today because neither Wonwoo nor Seungkwan were available to work. Wonwoo was out of the country and Seungkwan was sick. Today, he’s being monitored by Jihoon and Jun. Soonyoung wasn’t at work either because he had a dance competition to attend to. Chan was working the bar today and Minghao was working the blended beverage station.
Jihoon was overseeing Joshua’s communication and math skills. So far, he wasn’t disappointed. Joshua was doing so well, until Jeonghan was in front of him. There was no sign of you, but he panicked. Joshua’s hand shook and Jihoon watched as sweat started to form on Joshua’s forehead.
“Are you feeling hot, Joshua?” Jihoon asked, concerned.
“Um, no.” Joshua gulped. “I’m good.”
He turned to a smirking Jeonghan who had his arms crossed. “Hello, Joshua. I know you know who I am.” Jeonghan said confidently.
“Hi, Jeonghan.” Joshua greeted with a shaky voice.
Jeonghan sighed in satisfaction, “I’ll have my new favorite drink, please. The blended strawberry lemonade. Make sure it has enough sugar.”
Joshua quickly punched his order and Jeonghan paid by card. He looked at Joshua as the receipt was printing and asked, “What time is your lunch break?”
“Um…” Joshua stammered, “In a while.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting, Joshua.” He said slyly and walked away to pick up his drink at the hand-off area. When he grabbed his drink, he sat at a table nearby and waited for Joshua’s lunch break. As he waited, Jeonghan pulled out his iPad and watched a drama starring Byeon Woo-Seok.
An hour passed and Joshua was finally on lunch break. Joshua left the back room and immediately ordered his food. Thinking Jeonghan already left, he was able to let out a sigh of relief. He was very wrong, though.
“Oh, Joshua!”
He heard the sticky, sweet voice of Jeonghan. Joshua grabbed his tray and turned to look at the twin of the girl of his dreams. They say the devil wears Prada, but the devil actually wears pink.
“Yoo-hoo, come here!” Jeonghan called from his seat with a grin on his face. Joshua reluctantly placed the tray down and sat across from Jeonghan.
“Joshua, take a deep breath. You look like a puppy about to be scolded—cute, but also a little pathetic.” Jeonghan smirked.
Jeonghan took his iPad away and crossed his legs and leaned back, “Hello again, old classmate.”
“Hi-”
“I didn’t come here for small talk.” Jeonghan began. “We need to talk,” he said, the words firm, no nonsense.
Joshua blinked. “Uh… about what?”
Jeonghan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice but keeping his gaze unwavering. “About you. And your crush on Y/N.”
“Wait, what?” Joshua panicked. Jeonghan loved the panic in Joshua’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Jeonghan said, tilting his head, “I know about your silly crush and Seungcheol knows about it too. He’s teasing you. I see everything.”
“Her boyfriend’s teasing me?” Joshua asked, immediately feeling bad about himself. He was never a target for bullying before. He definitely didn’t expect to be bullied in college, of all places.
“You know! The guy you’re always with. The one who accidentally poured coffee on me!” Joshua exclaimed. Jeonghan’s face turned from fierce to relief. Then, he laughed. Like, really laughed, earning looks from other tables.
“That’s not her boyfriend. In fact, she’s never had one.” Jeonghan said.
“Never had one? Impossible!” Joshua exclaimed. “She’s too pretty to be single!”
Jeonghan made a face, “I’m single and pretty too. It’s very possible.”
“Right.” Joshua said sheepishly.
“Anyway, I only know you as a classmate. I need to know what kind of guy you are. Because, Joshua, I will find out if you’re the type to hurt her. And trust me, I won't hold back.”
Joshua opened his mouth, then closed it, caught between fear and admiration. “Listen, Jeonghan, I… I like her. I’ve liked her for years now. And I’d never—”
“Stop right there,” Jeonghan interrupted, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t want promises yet. I want to see it. How you treat her, how you make her laugh, how you respect her space… Do you understand?”
Joshua nodded quickly. “Yes. I do. I’ll… I’ll show you.”
Jeonghan leaned back, arms crossed, giving a subtle nod of approval. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear. And just so you know…” He paused, letting the words sink in. “…if you ever hurt her, I’ll personally make sure you regret it because I’ll let Cheollie beat you up.”
Joshua chuckled nervously. “Noted. I get it.”
Jeonghan smiled sweetly, “Alright. You now have my permission to court her. Absolutely no extreme activities, okay? She’s weak. No rollercoasters either. She gets tired easily.”
“You’re giving permission that quick?” Joshua was taken aback. He didn’t expect to go this far, actually.
“Yes,” Jeonghan nodded. “Besides, seeing Cheollie act all sweet and shit towards Y/Nie is getting boring. I’ll tell him to stop now. You and Y/N talk here often, no?”
“Well, only small talk.” Joshua said shyly.
“That’s a start. I’ll let you hang out with us now and neither Cheol nor Y/N can say no because I’m the unspoken leader of the friend group.” Jeonghan grinned. “Everything I say in the group is the law.”
“I can see that.” Joshua nodded.
Jeonghan stood up, smoothing his outfit. “Alright. That’s enough. Do you have my number? You know what, don’t answer that.” Jeonghan quickly reached out his hand and Joshua quickly unlocked his phone before giving it to him. Jeonghan quickly added his number, took a selfie, sent a text to himself, and handed it back to Joshua.
“There, I just blessed your phone. I’ll text you her schedule everyday. That girl just listens to me, anyway. I’m basically her manager.” Jeonghan said.
“Is she an idol or something?” Joshua chuckled.
“She could be if she wanted to, but none of you deserve her.” Jeonghan smiled. “Anyway, don’t be a stranger! Send me your schedule too and we can work on a group hangout. I’ll add you in the gc”
With that, he winked and walked out, leaving Joshua both tense and oddly reassured, knowing he’d passed the final boss, at least for now.
-
“Y/Nie, why aren’t you wearing the clothes I laid out for you?” Jeonghan whined. “How can we coordinate now? I told Cheol and our new friend to coordinate too!”
You rolled your eyes, “It’s just today, Hannie. I always wear what you tell me to wear. I just wanted to try my own style today.”
Jeonghan stared at you and sighed, “Fine. You’re lucky you’re my favorite person ever. Anyway, I’m off to pick-up our new friend. You and Cheol will take the bus to the city, yes?”
“Yes.” You nodded.
“Good. Cheol will have the payments covered. We’ll meet you at the mall, okay?” Jeonghan asked.
“Okay. Who’s the new friend, anyway?” You asked sweetly. You were always soft-spoken. It’s one of the things Jeonghan and Cheol loved about you.
“You’ll see him later, dearest. For now, I’ll pick him up. Behave, okay? Listen to Cheol, he’s older. He’ll be here soon.” Jeonghan waved you goodbye and left.
Jeonghan quickly got in his car and made sure everything was set before driving over to Joshua’s dorm. Yours and Jeonghan’s dorm was a bit far from Joshua’s. By walking, it would take fifteen to twenty minutes. By car, it only takes five minutes.
Jeonghan leaned back in the driver’s seat as he parked and put the car on hazard. He quickly shot a text to Joshua. Not even a minute later, Joshua approached the car. Joshua fumbled with the passenger door, trying to look casual.
“Alright, Joshua,” Jeonghan began, voice smooth but commanding, “here’s the rundown. Today is your first official hangout with us. I need you to know Y/N’s schedule so you don’t screw it up.”
Jeonghan reached for his iPad, unlocked it, and handed it to Joshua. Joshua blinked, clutching his water bottle a little tighter than necessary. “Uh… okay. So, this is her everyday schedule?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan said, tilting his head, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you memorize every little detail—just the major points. First, breakfast at 9. Then music scrolling. Then her mid-morning smoothie— it’s a non-negotiable,” Jeonghan said seriously. “Miss that, and she becomes dramatic.”
Joshua nodded, “Got it.”
“I’ll share that file with you, don’t worry. I’ll also send you a schedule on when you can go on dates without clashing with Cheol time, Hannie time, family time, solo time, and friend group time.” Jeonghan said as he began driving.
“That’s a lot.” Joshua said.
“Welcome to the club.” Jeonghan snorted. “Back to the schedule. She likes to wander around the campus for a bit. Then her class schedule starts from there. Today, don’t get distracted. I need you to note how she interacts with the group, how she laughs, her… quirks. This is all vital intel.”
Joshua’s eyes widened. “Intel?”
Jeonghan waved a hand dismissively. “Details, Joshua. You need details. And remember, do not embarrass her. Do not embarrass yourself. And definitely do not argue with Seungcheol. He is her chaos twin, and trust me, he may look friendly, but he is not to be challenged. He’s also protective. Don’t mind the cute nicknames he calls her and don’t mind her calling him ‘hon’. It’s a Yoon thing. If you get jealous of Cheol, you have no place in our group.”
“Got it.” Joshua swallowed nervously. He took a sip of his water.
“And finally,” Jeonghan said, smiling in that infuriatingly charming way, “you just have to have fun. Observe, respect, laugh, and keep up. If you can do all that, I approve. Fail, and you’ll have me to answer to.”
Joshua nodded frantically, trying to act calm while internally panicking.
“Alright, enough briefing. Let’s go meet the others. I’ve already warned Cheollie that you’re coming, so behave.” Jeonghan winked.
Joshua nodded frantically, trying to act calm while internally wondering if dating you came with an orientation manual. If it did, he’d read it the same way he read The Bible; every day, morning and night.
Seungcheol wasn’t looking forward to this hangout, but his heart melted when he saw that you were excited. On the bus ride, he couldn’t help but feel your excitement radiating throughout the whole trip to the mall.
“Your style is different today, Y/Nie.” Seungcheol commented.
“Is- is it bad?” You asked nervously. Seungcheol turned to you and smiled, “Never. You look great. I’m surprised Hannie let you wear it.”
You smiled sheepishly, “I told him that it’s only for today. I love coordinating with Hannie, but it gets too much sometimes. I just wanted to try something new today.”
“Well, I love it. I also adore how you were able to stand your ground. That’s amazing, baby.” Seungcheol smiled sweetly and gave you a gentle head pat.
When you arrived at the mall, you instantly let Jeonghan know. You and Seungcheol were waiting by the fountain when Jeonghan texted back saying that he was looking for a parking spot.
Joshua didn’t realize they were at the mall until Jeonghan parked and turned off the engine. People passed by to go to the entrance and Joshua watched as he tried to calm himself down. He adjusted his shirt for the nth time, glancing at his reflection in the side mirror.
“Relax,” Jeonghan stifled a laugh, stepping out of the car. “This isn’t a job interview, Joshie.”
“It feels like it.” Joshua gulped as he stepped out of the car, still gripping his water bottle.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous! It’s far from it.” Jeonghan locked the car with a sweet, menacing grin. “This is worse.”
He walked ahead, not even checking if Joshua was following. By natural response, Joshua rushed to follow him, not wanting to be left behind.
“They’re already inside, waiting by the fountain.” Jeonghan said casually as they rode the escalator from the basement to the ground floor. Of course, Jeonghan isn’t Jeonghan without telling a little lie. “Cheollie insisted on arriving early. He said something about ‘needing to scope you out’.” Jeonghan lied, but Joshua didn’t need to know that. “Save it for the best man's speech.” Jeonghan thought to himself.
Joshua choked on his own spit. “Scope me out?! What does that even mean?” Joshua was frantic.
Jeonghan glanced over his shoulder with a tiny smirk on his pretty face, “Don’t worry. You’ll live. Probably.”
Joshua followed closely behind Jeonghan as they stepped off the escalator, his grip tightening around his water bottle like it was a lifeline. Jeonghan walked confidently in every stride while he felt like he looked stupid. Today, Jeonghan looked like he stepped out of a magazine. Meanwhile, he was sweating his balls off.
And then, he saw you. You took his breath away. His world went in slow motion again. He didn’t know how and why you managed to make him feel this way. He didn’t mind, though.
You were standing beside Seungcheol near the fountain, sunlight bouncing off the water behind you. You looked relaxed, chatting softly, completely unaware of the emotional battlefield Joshua felt like he was walking into.
Joshua stood there, frozen. Jeonghan smiled at you from a distance, “There they are!” He said brightly, striding forward like he owned the mall. It was weird, but even if you were separated for a short time, Jeonghan missed you.
Seungcheol noticed them first. His eyes immediately landed on Joshua and narrowed. Joshua felt eyes on him and saw Seungcheol glaring. Joshua felt his soul leave his body. You followed Seungcheol’s gaze and blinked when you saw Jeonghan approaching with Joshua just… standing. Jeonghan turned and saw Joshua, basically frozen, and rolled his eyes, “Yah, you can’t get to know her if you’re standing there!”
“Sorry!” Joshua awkwardly jogged to catch up.
Your brows furrowed slightly. “Hannie? Is that-”
“Surprise!” Jeonghan sang. “This is our new friend, Joshua. We all know Joshua, don’t we?”
Joshua bowed slightly out of instinct. “H-Hi.” He stammered.
Seungcheol didn’t smile, nod, and blink. He just stared. Hard. Joshua swallowed nervously.
“Hi, Joshua!” You smiled, tilting your head. “It’s nice to see you outside of Handsome Coffee. You must be our new friend. I’m glad Hannie made friends with you!”
Joshua blushed.
“It turns out, he was my former classmate.” Jeonghan said casually. “He’s our current victim now.”
Joshua grew even more nervous. Seungcheol finally spoke, “Hey, Josh. Glad to see you.” Seungcheol’s voice was calm, but something about it made Joshua uneasy.
Then, there was silence. Seungcheol stood up straighter, circled around Joshua, and looked at him up and down. Scanning. Judging. Evaluating.
Jeonghan crossed his arms (a new habit of his) and rolled his eyes dramatically, “Oh my god, stop it.” He groaned. Seungcheol ignored him as he stood in front of Joshua after circling around like a vulture.
“Cheollie?” You said sweetly. “What’s wrong? Joshua’s nice. You know him too!”
Seungcheol folded. He loved and hated that ability of yours. Jeonghan slapped Seungcheol’s arm and snapped, “Yah, stop it! Calm down, and last time I checked, I’m her twin, not you. Relax.”
You blinked. Joshua blinked. Seungcheol blinked. The fountain behind you splashed quietly in the background to ease the tension. You were confused at Seungcheol’s behavior. He had never been like that before. He was always so nice to Joshua at the cafe.
Seungcheol sighed through his nose, slow and controlled. Then, he muttered, “I am relaxed.”
“You look like you’re about to interrogate him under bright lights. BE NICE.” Jeonghan shot back and widened his eyes for effect. Joshua mentally agreed, strongly. You stepped forward slightly, peeking around Seungcheol. Your eyes landed on Joshua; soft, curious, and gentle. Joshua forgot how to breathe.
“Sorry about him, Joshua.” You said quietly with a pout.
Joshua blinked rapidly. “I-It’s okay.”
It’s absolutely not okay, but it was worth it because you smiled at him. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” Joshua thought.
“Thanks for making my drink extra special. I know it’s you putting the extras I never asked for. I really enjoy them!” You said sweetly.
Jeonghan smirked.
“See?” Jeonghan said smugly. “She likes him already. So, move out of the way, Choi. He’s alright and whatever I say, goes, remember?”
Joshua internally screamed. Jeonghan lightly pushed Seungcheol out of the way and began walking with their arms locked together, “Keep up, guys!” Jeonghan called out to the two of you.
You and Joshua walked side by side, trailing behind Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Joshua gripped his water bottle tighter and sweat formed on his forehead.
Say something, idiot! Joshua told himself.
“Um, I love your outfit. It’s- it’s different from whatever you’ve worn before.” Joshua said shyly.
You turned to him with an excited grin, “Really? I dressed myself up! Hannie usually coordinates what we wear so he can easily find me, but he finally let me style myself. It’s only for today, though. I wouldn’t want to upset Hannie. I know he likes styling for the two of us. Besides, he’s more of a fashionista than I am.” You chuckled lightly.
Joshua thought you were the sweetest girl ever. He fell more in love with you. The next two minutes were filled with comfortable silence. Jeonghan led you to the food court. Joshua’s stomach dropped. “Of course,” Joshua thought, “Public eating. Judgment. Evaluation. Humiliation. Wonderful.”
Jeonghan led them to a table near his favorite pizza place. He let go of Seungcheol’s arm and quickly sat down, clearly already tired. You sat next to Jeonghan. Just as Joshua sat across from you, Seungcheol turned to him and asked, “Can you carry trays?”
Joshua blinked.”Who does he think he is, asking me a fuck-ass question-”
“Yes…?” Joshua answered, confusedly.
“Good,” Seungcheol said flatly. Joshua didn’t know if that was approval or a threat. Seungcheol walked towards Jeonghan’s favorite pizza place and fell in line. Jeonghan looked at Joshua with a proud smile, “Congratulations on surviving the first fifteen minutes.”
“Joshie, would you please tell Cheollie that I want A&W today. It pairs well with the pizza.” You asked politely.
“Joshie?!” Oh, you’ll be the death of Joshua.
“Sure!” Joshua smiled.
“Joshua, are you coming?” Seungcheol called from the counter. Joshua looked at you and Jeonghan before leaving.
“He’s adorable.” You chuckled lightly, earning an amused look from Jeonghan.
“Yeah?” Jeonghan smiled sweetly and you nodded happily. “I think so too. I can give you his number if you want?”
“Hm…” You thought before nodding, “Alrighty!”
Jeonghan passed you Joshua’s number, which you saved with a contact name that you’d easily remember: josh handsome coffee.
The food court was packed by the time Joshua and Seungcheol got the food. Seungcheol turned to Joshua and said, “If you want to get the girl, carry the tray. We don’t let her carry stuff.”
Joshua quickly got the tray, but it was heavier than expected. Heavier than expected. Way heavier. “Why is it so heavy?” Joshua thought, but he didn’t falter in front of Seungcheol. He had his pride to protect now.
Seungcheol walked ahead and sat at the table, across from you. His arms were crossed, eyes sharp. Joshua took a deep breath and walked towards the table with the heavy tray. Steady. Careful. Focused.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps. Someone bumped into him. Joshua’s heart stopped when the tray tilted dangerously. Your A&W wobbled. Time slowed. Joshua skillfully lunged slightly forward to stabilize it, gripping the tray harder. The shake steadied. No spill, no disaster.
He carefully placed the tray on the table. Success.
You smiled at him. “Thank you,” you said gently.
Joshua’s heart fluttered. That smile of yours was worth the mini-panic. Seungcheol nodded once, barely noticeable, but Jeonghan saw it and smirked.
Test no.1: PASSED.
-
After eating, Jeonghan dragged everyone toward the fashion hall of the mall. Clothing stores ranged from affordable to nepo-baby goods.
“Shopping time!” Jeonghan declared happily. Your parents gave you and Jeonghan money regularly for clothing allowance. It wasn’t a lot, but it was still a large sum. Plus, Jeonghan made a lot of money by selling both of your clothes, ones that he felt weren’t needed anymore, online. The money he earned from there was split into three: extra clothing allowance, his allowance, and your allowance. You were surprised that Jeonghan even had customers because he never sold your clothes cheaply despite it being pre-loved.
Upon hearing the declaration, Seungcheol sighed. Joshua panicked once more, but when he turned to look at your excited expression, he’ll admit, he was willing to buy you a shit ton of clothes.
Jeonghan entered his favorite store and greeted the sales associates. They already knew each other by name considering he was a regular customer. The associates knew you too because you’d always model for Jeonghan.
Jeonghan shoved random clothes into your arms. “Try this, and this, and this.”
You nodded obediently and went to the fitting room. The three men waited for you outside and sat on what is known as “the boyfriend couch”. After a while, you walked out wearing a soft, pastel outfit.
Joshua froze. He thought you were beautiful. Extremely beautiful.
“Does it look okay?” You asked shyly. You weren’t confident in this particular dress despite it looking cute. Jeonghan praised you as usual and Seungcheol complimented you. However, those comments didn’t matter. You wanted Joshua’s opinion because he was new in your group, a pair of fresh eyes. You looked at him and the other two men looked at him expectantly. Joshua didn’t pay them any mind because he was in his own little world when he looked at you.
“It looks beautiful on you.” Joshua nodded with a happy grin on his face.
You and Jeonghan ended up buying more clothes than usual. Joshua held all the shopping bags. Then, Jeonghan kept handing him more and more shopping bags. “How many outfits do they need?” Joshua asked himself as you all walked to the escalator that led to the parking lot.
Joshua didn’t complain, though. How could he? The clothes you bought made you happy. That was enough for him. Seungcheol walked beside him while you and Jeonghan walked ahead, arms linked together.
Seungcheol walked quietly, waiting for Joshua to mess up. Though, he never did. “You’re not tired?” He asked Joshua.
“A little,” Joshua admitted. “But it’s fine. She’s happy, isn’t she? If the bags I’m carrying are her source of happiness, then who am I to complain?”
Seungcheol hummed quietly. Not impressed, not disappointed. He was simply observing. You didn’t hear the conversation, but Jeonghan did and he grinned like a menace.
Test no. 2: PASSED.
-
After putting the bags in the trunk of Jeonghan’s car, the four of you made your way to the top floor where the arcade is located. The arcade was loud. Bright lights adorned the place and sounds of the game machines rang nonstop. You clapped your hands softly. Joshua saw this and if he were a snowman, he’d have melted already simply by your cuteness.
As Seungcheol and Jeonghan were deciding on which one to play, you stared at the claw machine nearby. You turned to Joshua and said, “I’m always unlucky with these things.”
“Really?” Joshua asked and you nodded.
“All I’ve ever wanted was one of those cute bunnies.” You sighed sadly.
“My princess is sad? Not on my watch.” Joshua had a determined look on his face. He was a man on a mission. “Wait here.” He told you, and you being you, you listened.
Joshua walked up to the counter and bought a lot of coins. Jeonghand and Seungcheol saw him and quickly walked up to him.
“What’re those for?” Jeonghan asked.
“I’ll win her something.” Joshua muttered.
“Ooh! I’ll watch.” Jeonghan said giddily. Seungcheol nodded. Joshua went back to you and quickly inserted one coin in the slot and the machine came to life. You, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol watched as Joshua carefully maneuvered the claw through the joystick. All four of you inhaled sharply when the claw grabbed a beige bunny. You all watched as the claw lifted the bunny up, drew itself back, and successfully made it through the slot.
All four of you cheered. Victory!
“You did it!” You gasped softly as you clapped gently.
Joshua picked up the bunny from the slot and happily handed it to you. “For you,” he said proudly.
You smiled. “Thank you,” you said quietly, hugging your new plush bunny to your chest. Seungcheol watched closely then looked away. Jeonghan nudged him and when Seungcheol looked at him, Jeonghan wiggled his eyebrows.
Test no. 3: PASSED.
-
Later, while walking through the mall, you slowed slightly. Your steps became smaller, slower. Joshua noticed first. “You okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded, “Just a little tired.”
Before Seungcheol could react, Joshua stepped in front of you and crouched down. “Hop on, Y/Nie.” he said.
You blinked and asked, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I don’t want you to walk around tired. Hop on.” Joshua said sweetly. You carefully hopped on Joshua’s back and he held your thighs carefully (and respectfully). You wrapped your arms around his neck and got comfy.
“Thanks, Joshie.” You said softly.
“Anytime, Y/Nie. I’ll be your personal carriage.” Joshua chuckled lightly causing you to laugh.
Seungcheol saw the whole exchange and froze. That wasn’t planned. That wasn’t forced. That wasn’t even part of the test. That was pure instinct. Jeonghan saw it too and smirked.
(Unexpected) Test no. 4: PASSED.
-
Everyone was quiet in the car ride back to the university. Jeonghan drove to Joshua’s dorm first because you, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol lived in the same dorm building. When Jeonghan pulled up in front of Joshua’s dorm building, he turned to look at him, “Thanks for hanging out with us, Shua!”
“Thanks for inviting me.” Joshua said politely. As he got ready to leave the car, you grabbed his wrist and his heart stopped for a second. He turned to look at you and you had the cutest, sleepy look on your face.
“Thanks for the bunny and the piggyback ride.” You said softly.
His eyes softened, “It’s no problem, Y/N. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“I’m very, very happy.” You said sleepily with a soft smile on your face.
“Good.” Joshua grinned. He said one last goodbye to everyone before exiting the car. You fell asleep when he left. Jeonghan drove slower. He always did that whenever you’re asleep in the car.
“Today went great, no?” Jeonghan said. “What do you think? Is our baby girl all grown up now?”
Seungcheol leaned his head on the window and said, “Perhaps. I guess I’m just not ready for another man to be in our circle and I definitely didn’t prepare for a moment like this. I thought we had more years, Hannie.”
“Well, it was bound to happen.” Jeonghan quickly glanced at Seungcheol before looking back at the road, the dorm building coming into view. “I’m just glad that it’s Joshua. My feelings are light towards him. It’s a good thing. Mom and dad would love him.”
“True, but I’ll still keep an eye on him.” Seungcheol said.
Jeonghan chuckled, “Of course. I’ll keep an eye on him too.”
Later that night, Joshua received a text from you and he instantly replied.
Joshua went to bed that night with a smile on his face.
Just as you were about to put your phone away, Jeonghan opened your door and said, "Hon, it's time to sleep."
"I know. I was about to put my phone away." You said softly. Jeonghan fully entered your room and you felt the bed dip as he sat down and played with your hair.
"Are you happy? Did you have fun today?" Jeonghan asked.
You nodded, "I had so much fun. Thanks for inviting Joshua, Hannie. That was very nice of you."
"It's no problem." Jeonghan said. "Do you like Joshua?"
"Hm... well, he's nice and he's cute when he panics." You said, earning a chuckle from Jeonghan. "I also like his face."
"Alright, that's enough." Jeonghan said. "Get some sleep, Y/N."
"Stay?" You yawned.
"Always." Jeonghan smiled and played with your hair until you fell asleep. When he was sure that you were asleep, Jeonghan took out his phone and sent a quick text to Joshua before falling asleep next to you, too lazy to go to his room.
CHAPTER 6: JOSHUA FROM LA FINALLY GOT THE GIRL WITH THE HELP OF SEUNGKWAN. GIVE HIM A BONUS, JUSEYO. -BOO SEUNGKWAN
Time passed faster than anyone expected. What started as awkward group hangouts slowly turned into routine. Joshua seamlessly fit into your group without even trying so hard and he felt himself become more comfortable and confident.
Mall trips became movie nights. Movie nights turned into casual dinners. Sometimes it was arcade runs, sometimes just walking around the mall aimlessly while Jeonghan complained about boredom and Seungcheol pretended he didn’t enjoy any of it.
Joshua was there for all of it.
At first, Seungcheol watched him like a hawk—sharp eyes always tracking his every move. Jeonghan, ever the more relaxed one, preferred to observe quietly, pretending not to care while noticing everything. Weeks passed, then months and somewhere along the way, Joshua stopped feeling like a guest. He became part of the routine, part of the group; part of your life.
Eventually, Jeonghan would hit him up with hangout messages according to the curated schedule Jeonghan lovingly put together based on his masterlist of each of your schedules.
“I know you’re not working today. Come hangout with us. That’s an order, not a request :)”
“Today is a friend group hangout! We’re going to the beach. Cheol is driving and you’ll stay in the passenger seat. Y/Nie and I will stay in the back because we’re too pretty to give Cheollie directions :p”
“I know you’re staying in a solo dorm, so we’re moving the hangout at your place. Our dorm is a mess and Cheol’s dorm is too cramped for four people. We’re bringing the food and drinks in return. See ya!”
Jeonghan didn’t want to admit that his baby sister (younger twin) was growing up. Alas, he had no choice but to see it all unfold in front of him. He noticed that you had taken a liking to Joshua. So, he had to do what he had to do—meddle.
Jeonghan started letting you go out with Joshua alone. He genuinely didn’t want to because he wasn’t ready to be separated from you. He wasn’t ready for the possibility of you having a boyfriend. This time, it was Seungcheol telling him to calm down.
So, Jeonghan made the decision of finally letting you go out with Joshua on your own. Not directly, of course. He didn’t want you to feel abandoned. He never said the words out loud. Instead, it came in the form of suspiciously timed excuses.
“Ah… I’d love to go,” Jeonghan sighed dramatically, checking his phone. “But I have plans today.”
You blinked. Jeonghan never had plans that came before you. Plus, he had a perfectly curated schedule that aligned with everyone. All of you had access to that Google Sheet file.
“Plans?”
Jeonghan hated seeing you so down, but he had to push it down. “Very important plans,” he nodded seriously. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Jeonghan would only give you at least two hours with Joshua before joining you after his “plans”. You looked across the room and asked sweetly, “Cheollie?”
Across the room, Seungcheol would keep his gaze on his phone to avoid looking at your puppy eyes because he knew if he looked, he’d give in.
“Same,” he muttered. “Busy.”
You didn’t question it, but Joshua did. Because somehow, their schedules only became “busy” whenever he’d ask you to hang out.
Which was exactly how you ended up standing in front of Handsome Coffee on a quiet afternoon. The familiar bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside. The warm scent of coffee beans filled the air, mixed with the low hum of conversations and soft music playing in the background.
Behind the counter, Joshua stood frozen. Mid-wipe, rag still in hand, eyes wide because you were standing in front of him with a sweet smile on your face.
“Hi, Joshie!” You greeted.
“H-Hi! What’re you doing here? According to the Google Sheet, it’s a free day.” Joshua said. He’s very thankful for Jeonghan’s skill of organization. It helped his forgetfulness.
“Yeah. I asked everyone to hang out here, but they all said no again.” You sighed. “I know you’re out early today, so I’ll just wait for you.”
“You sure? I still have three hours.” Joshua said as he looked at the clock. You nodded, “Yes. I have my iPad to keep me company. Maybe we can go to the mall after?”
“I’ll go wherever you want, baby.” Joshua said without thinking. Then, he froze again.
“Baby?” You said, tilting your head.
“Um, sorry! I just- Cheol and Hannie call you that, so I-”
“It’s okay! I like it. I like your speaking voice too. It’s very soft. I’ll sit over there, okay? See ya in a bit, Joshie!” You smiled before walking toward your usual table.
Seungkwan watched the whole scene unfold with his arms crossed. He noticed everything, of course he did. Before, he noticed how Joshua checked the door every few minutes, how he fixed his hair whenever the bell chimed, how he suddenly forgot basic human functions whenever your name was mentioned. It was embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing.
Now, he noticed the new Joshua. He was more confident now and walked with his head held high. His style got better now too. He was laughing more, smiling more, and relaxing more. He was happy to see Joshua thrive, but he was sick of him pining. So, he took matters into his own hands.
By the time Joshua’s lunch break arrived, the two of you were seated at a small table near the window. A sandwich sat between you. Half-eaten. Mostly because Joshua forgot how chewing worked whenever you smiled at him.
“That’s so embarrassing!” You laughed.
“I know, right?” Joshua laughed. “I never went back to that place because the embarrassment eats me up alive every time.”
“Oh my gosh,” your face was red from laughing. “I need to calm down. I’ll go to the restroom for a bit, okay?”
“Sure. Take your time, Y/Nie.” Joshua smiled as you stood up and went to the restroom.
Seungkwan passed by your table, pretending to wipe a perfectly clean surface. He leaned close to Joshua, very close, and whispered, “Ask her out.”
Joshua looked at him, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I am working. I’m working on helping you to get the girl of your dreams because I’m so sick of seeing you lovesick. Now, ask her out.”
“What?”
“Did I stutter? Ask. Her. Out.” Seungkwan said through gritted teeth.
Joshua panicked internally, externally, and spiritually. “I can’t.” Joshua whispered.
Seungkwan clicked his tongue and said, “If you don’t ask her out right the fuck now, I’ll tell Mingyu to ask her out because I know for a fact that Mingyu flirts with her every time she comes here alone.”
“Mingyu’s doing what?!”
“ASK. HER. OUT.” Seungkwan said before going back to the counter.
Joshua inhaled slowly as he glanced at Mingyu collecting the dirty dishes from tables. His hands felt warm and slightly shaky when you came back from the restroom.
“I’m back.” You smiled cutely.
Joshua looked into your eyes as you sat comfortably across from him. He’s a goner. He’s totally in love with you now and there’s no way in hell he’d let you slip away from him. There’s no way he’d let Mingyu ask you out.
“Y/Nie…”
You blinked softly. “Yeah?”
He swallowed hard. His palms were now sweaty. “Would you…”
Then a pause. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
“...like to go out with me? Like, as a date?” Joshua looked at you nervously. Silence fell between you. Joshua’s heart pounded wildly. It was loud enough to drown out the entire cafe.
You looked at Joshua with the softest look on your pretty face. Time slowed down as you stared at him. Joshua felt defeated. Your lack of response made him think he didn’t have any chance.
“On second thought, it’s okay if you don’t want to.” Joshua said, looking down.
You gave him a small smile, “I’d love to go out with you, Joshua.”
Joshua froze. His head shot up quickly to look at you with a surprised expression. Did you just say yes to him? He stared at you like you had just spoken another language.
“You… would?” Joshua asked, just to confirm, of course.
You chuckled lightly at his expression and nodded, smiling wider. “Yes, I would, Joshie.”
Oxygen in his lungs? Gone.
Thoughts? Gone.
Brain? Disconnected?
What is air?
What’s his name?
Who am I?
He’s probably going to faint.
Meanwhile, across the cafe, Joshua’s coworkers were watching. Seungkwan and Seokmin were watching intently, Jihoon had his arms crossed, Minghao was watching with Jun from the pastry area, and Mingyu watched while holding a tub of clean dishes.
“Why are we watching again?” Jihoon asked. “I have stuff to do.”
“Aish, sajangnim, calm down. You have plenty of time.” Seungkwan replied. “Right now, we’re watching Joshua ask his crush out on a date.”
“His crush?” Minghao asked. “I didn’t know he liked iced-chocolate-drinker-resident-baby-girl.”
“Well, he does and Seungkwan discovered it first!” Seokmin said proudly. “Then he told me first.”
“He was painfully obvious, anyway. Soonyoung was annoyed at him messing up the drinks, but I kept seeing him stare.” Jun chuckled.
“Can’t blame him. She’s so pretty.” Mingyu swooned.
“Stop that.” Seungkwan gave him the side-eye. “She looks better with Joshua. You look like a playboy.”
“Ouch.” Mingyu pouted.
Joshua just stared at you. You let out a small laugh at his stunned expression. You leaned in close, rested your elbow on the table, and rested your chin on your palm. “Joshua?”
He snapped back to reality, “Yes!” He said way too loud, earning looks from most people in the cafe. Joshua shrank slightly in his seat.
“Sorry,” he whispered, bowing to people he made eye contact with before turning to you. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone calling his name loudly.
“JOSHUA!” A loud voice echoed from behind the counter. He looked over and saw his coworkers staring at him with Seungkwan standing, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed.
“Your break ended two minutes ago.” Seungkwan said with a sassy look on his face.
“What?”
“You heard me. Don’t make me repeat it.” Seungkwan said. “It’s Mingyu’s turn to have his lunch break and he’s whiney.”
Joshua looked at you, then at Seungkwan, and then back at you. He internally screamed.
“It’s okay,” you said gently. “You should go back to work. The sooner you go back to work, the sooner we can go on a date.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s only you and me today. And I did say that I’ll wait for your shift to end. We can go on our first date after.” You smiled sweetly.
Joshua nodded and quickly stood up, almost knocking his chair back. He caught it and placed it back and looked at you. He’s still processing the fact that you actually said yes.
“I’ll see you later.” Joshua said, trying to act cool about it. You nodded with a smile on your face. The same smile that made his brain malfunction. He smiled and walked back to the back room. He quickly put his apron on and joined his workmates behind the counter.
Seungkwa grabbed him by the sleeve. “What did she say?” Seungkwan demanded. He wants the full tea. The others looked at him expectantly. Joshua took a deep breath and said, “She said yes.”
Seungkwan gasped dramatically, “FINALLY.”
Joshua covered his face, slightly embarrassed, but smiling. You watched quietly from your table, hands folded neatly on the table with your iPad in front of you. Your heart was beating fast too. Because now, you had a date with Joshua. You took out your phone and sent a text to Jeonghan to update him.
“Joshua,” Seungkwan whispered sharply. Joshua turned to look at him.
“You just made the same latte twice. You’re lucky Soonyoung’s coming in later.” Seungkwan hissed from the counter.
“Oh.” Joshua blinked slowly. Pause, then, “She said yes.”
Seungkwan sighed. “You really are a goner. You’ve said that four times already.”
Joshua didn’t respond this time. He just let out a small breath of laughter, still smiling as he turned back to his work. Across the cafe, you looked up from your phone for a moment and caught his eye. Joshua straightened instantly, like he had been caught doing something illegal.
You smiled at him.
And for the first time since he saw you, Joshua didn’t feel so nervous anymore. He smiled back before looking away. He was sure he finally found the one person he could proudly introduce to his mom.
EPILOGUE
You to Jeonghan (during the date)
Cheol and Hannie (after picking you and Joshua up)
Seungkwan to Joshua (days after)
Joshua to Mingyu (after Seungkwan’s text)
You to Joshua (a month or so later)
A/N: AAAAAHHH IT'S FINALLY HERE! hope u guys liked it :> pls give me feedback so i can improve!
"Dear sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health…" Jihoon mumbled to himself as he typed. He quickly shook his head and erased it. "That's so Hamilton-coded."
LMFAOOO THE HAMILTON REFERENCE MADE ME SING OUT LOUD
“Shh, don't be so loud! She's the one wearing an ugly tracksuit by the window. It's so last year.”
HE’S SO ELLE WOODS 😭😭😭
"Baby, I dare you to pick something that isn't your usual." The guy said.
bro, i, too, will faint
“He searched and scanned like how Eliza Schuyler was searching and scanning for answers.”
AAAA I LOVE HAMILTON SM AND THE REFERENCES 🤌🏼🤌🏼
"Iced chocolate drinker resident baby girl."
I LOVE THE ALIAS LMAOOOO iced chocolate drinker resident baby girl 🩷
“The song playing in Choi Seungcheol's headphones was indeed a stark contrast to his appearance.”
OH KY GOD THE MEMEEEEHEHEHHEHE
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL'S PLANS:
1. Make Joshua jealous
2. Say and do things to make Joshua spiral
3. DON'T TELL HANNIE
4. Confront Joshua
5. Be Joshua's wingman
oh he kinda has some twisted ways pf being a wingman LOLLL
“She could be if she wanted to, but none of you deserve her.” Jeonghan smiled.
AW THEY SO LOVE HER 🥹🥹🥹🥹
GODDD THIS WAS SO TAYLOR’S HYGTG CODED 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼
i love everything ab this like i love baby’s dynamics w her boys, i love her han and cheol loved her sm, i love how they tested joshua lmaoo
what a Freaking Masterpiece. the world deserves to see this and authornim deserves the world to see this masterpiece.
Mingyu becomes your boyfriend and quickly realizes 3 things about himself:
1. He’s clingy.
2. Patience brings him nowhere.
3. He is not built for a long distance relationship.
wc: 2.2k
genre: fluff, suggestive, non-idol au, friends to lovers
content: mingyu x f!reader, (newly) established relationship, lots of kissing, making out, biting/hickeys, mentions of alcohol and food, terms of endearment (baby, babe, pretty girl, loverboy), some teasing/banter, they're kinda obsessed w each other, honeymoon phase but for ppl who aren't married yet, their friends are dramatic(?)
Patience has always been one of Mingyu’s best qualities.
It shows when his friends tease him endlessly about his habit of stumbling over his words, and his only reaction is to roll his eyes at them. It shows when his sister makes him get up at 5AM to queue for a special edition bag, and he only grumbles out a total of three complaints. It shows when his boss gives him a too short of a notice about a weeklong business trip, and all he can do is pack his luggage like it’s a race.
That’s why he desperately wishes it would show now, as he sneaks a glance at you from across the dinner table while Seungcheol holds him by the shoulder—barraging him with things he missed due to said business trip.
Mingyu clinks his glass of soju against Seungcheol’s and downs it before his eyes finds you again.
You, dressed in a top with delicate straps tied into even more delicate bows. You, with your hair in that effortless updo that he always liked. You, sipping your drink with your glossy lips in a soft rosy shade that drives him crazy.
Contrary to Seungcheol’s eager ramblings, the only thing Mingyu missed during his trip was you.
You and Mingyu—along with your other friends Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Jihyo—have known each other since your college days. However, things began to change a few months ago when you developed an interest in running—suddenly influenced by numerous tiktok videos. Mingyu had been excited when you first mentioned it in the group chat and deemed himself your new “running partner” since the two of you lived closest to each other.
Since then, your time together slowly extended into the day—turning from a simple morning exercise to getting brunch together afterwards to spending the night at each other’s apartment because “We’re gonna go on a run tomorrow morning anyways. Might as well sleep over to save time.”
On one of those sleepover nights, Mingyu decided he's had enough. Something had shifted since you started spending more time together—charged moments where gazes lingered longer than necessary and quiet nights that encouraged you to share a bigger piece of yourselves with each other.
Although you've been part of the same friend group for years, it was still uncommon for just the two of you to meet frequently like this. Despite everyone’s busy schedules, the group chat managed to stay active and always made time to meet up.
It was normal for Mingyu to see you once a week or so—sometimes in a dirty T-shirt and mismatched socks for movie night at Wonwoo's, sometimes in coordinating outfits with Jihyo for dinner. And sometimes, he’d even play wingman to help you get a cute bartender’s number.
It was, however, not normal to squeeze onto your small couch just so he could wake up to you in the mornings. It wasn’t normal for him to run backwards so he could see the glow in your smile as the early sunlight shined on you. And it definitely wasn’t normal for Mingyu’s heart to race whenever he caught his mind drifting to you at random times in the day.
So when he shows up to your place without his usual bag of running gear and dressed in loose sweats, you give him a questioning look. “Running in sweatpants is definitely new for you.”
“No, it's not that,” he inhales deeply, lingering by the door, “I wanted to tell you something.”
You freeze in your spot, nodding at him to continue.
"I really like you. I want to be more than a friend. I know this will change a lot of things for us but it was driving me crazy not being able to tell you how I feel," he says softly, inching closer to you. His eyes are rounded and full of affection as he takes your hands in his, "I love being with you and spending time with you. You feel it too, right?"
Your eyes well up with tears as your brain catches up with everything you just heard. If you were being honest, your newfound crush on Mingyu had been your biggest worry recently. Mingyu has always been a good friend, but being in close proximity to him and taken care of by him did stir all the butterflies in your stomach. You had spent countless nights staring at your ceiling, trying to make sense of your feelings, and gathering the courage to tell him.
You roll your lips between your teeth, attempting to hide your smile, "Was it because I kept staring at your chest and ass when we run?"
He throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, "Well, I can't lie and say I wasn't doing the same thing."
Your smile spreads wider across your face, "Okay, let's call it even then."
Mingyu tugs your body towards his and wraps you in a firm hug. You lean into him, taking the warmth of his body in as he pats your hair tenderly.
"So are we still going on our run tomorrow or what?," you mumble against his chest.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some of my running clothes lying around, would ya?”
———
As it turns out, you did have an extra set of his clothes by your dresser. He did spend the night. You did go on that run together. And like always, Mingyu did buy you brunch afterwards.
But before he could even celebrate his first 24 hours as your boyfriend, an email from his boss showed up—an emergency request for his presence at a conference being held across the country. He had left your apartment begrudgingly as you kissed him goodbye and promised to wait for his call when he landed.
It has been exactly one week since then.
As soon as he landed back home, he had rushed to the restaurant where you were currently having dinner with the rest of your friends. Much to his disappointment, you had been caught in conversation with Seungkwan and Jihyo when he arrived, allowing Seungcheol to drag Mingyu into the seat between him and Wonwoo.
And that was an hour ago.
So if you ask Mingyu, he’d like to think he’s been patient enough. Patiently waiting to see you again, to have a moment with you, to make up the long seven days without you.
The sudden surge of emotions makes him restless. He slumps lower into his chair and shakes his legs, feeling miffed at the entire situation. There's no way Seungcheol has that much to update him on, right? And why have Seungkwan and Jihyo been hogging your attention all night? The last time he checked, you're his girlfriend, not theirs.
“Kim Mingyu. Lighten up a little," Seungkwan chides, yanking him from his cloud of thoughts.
He scowls at Seungkwan then sighs, “I’m going to the restroom.”
Mingyu sends you a weak smile and mouths a discreet “meet me there” before he pulls away from Seungcheol and heads to the restroom, patting cold water onto his face and neck.
When he steps out, he sees you waiting for him in the corner of the small corridor that leads back out to the dining area, tucking your lip gloss and compact mirror back into your bag.
A smile blooms on your face when you notice him.
“Hi.”
Mingyu manages to rasp out a soft hey back before he presses his full weight into you, face buried in your hair and hands snaked around your waist.
You're surrounded by his body heat and the faint woody notes of cologne. You’ve been giddy all day thinking about seeing him again and the feeling of being in his hold after so long makes your stomach flip.
Mingyu finally pulls away to look at you. “Missed me?”
Your stomach does a second flip. He looks devastating. His hair is tousled against his forehead, eyes bright and glassy, small mole dotting his nose perfectly, and lips pulled into a slight pout.
Your hands tighten against his lower back as you interlock your fingers together and whisper against his lips, “So much.”
Mingyu instantly leans forward to close the distance, slotting his lips against yours. His kiss is filled with so much fervor, as if he couldn’t waste any more time not kissing you.
It takes you a second to react; you’ve only kissed Mingyu a handful of times between the night you confessed to each other and him leaving for his work trip—all of which have been short and sweet.
But this kiss is heavy and passionate, his lips moving over yours with intense focus. You’ve never seen him this worked up before but it’s a new side of him that makes your skin tingle with anticipation.
Once you get out of your initial shock, you kiss him back with equal force, hands moving to roam across the broad stretch of his back muscles. You nibble playfully at his bottom lip before giving it a particular harsh suck. He sighs into your mouth as you soothe your tongue over the seam of his lips.
Mingyu reluctantly pulls away first, “I missed you so bad. So so bad.”
You can feel his rough hands absentmindedly toy with the hem of your top, fingertips pressing into your skin.
Your chest heaves against his as you beam up at him, “I can tell.”
Mingyu swears your eyes twinkled when you smiled at him and he has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. His eyes lazily trace the shape of your lips before coming back to hold your gaze.
“This lip gloss shade is killing me,” he says, tongue darting out to lightly lick at your lips.
Mingyu can only stare as you reach up to thumb away your smudged lipgloss by the corner of his lips and chin. His vision is a little hazy but he manages to focus on your lips. The rosy tint has lost most of its shine and color by now, replaced by a soft kiss-swollen hue (Mingyu has half a mind to boast about him being the cause of it) but it’s still pulling him in with the exact same force it did when he first arrived.
“Baby, please,” he swallows hard, but his voice comes out in a dry whisper, “Last one, I promise.”
He ducks his head to capture your lips in another heated kiss. His hands alternate between your waist and ass, only pausing to knead the plump flesh of your hips once in a while.
You pull away from him, trying to catch your breath. “How was your flight back?”
“You’re asking all the wrong questions.”
He leans in, attempting another kiss but you dodge his lips as your hand comes up to cover them.
Your smirk is playful as you say, “I thought you said that was the last one.”
"I take it back," he muffles into your hand before licking it, causing you to yelp and clutch his shirt.
He cups your face firmly and tilts your head towards him, “You’re so beautiful.” Then a wet kiss on your jaw.
"My pretty girl.” A gentle bite onto the side of your neck.
He trails light kisses down your throat and makes his way to the dip by your collarbone. You can’t help but let out soft moans at the sensation as Mingyu continues to suck slowly at the spot.
His lips travel to the curve of your shoulder, where his fingers start to fiddle with the thin ends of your tie straps.
He pulls at it teasingly before letting out a choked laugh, “How functional is this?”
“It’s cute,” you whine in defense.
You lightly pinch his sides to get his attention before you pull him into a kiss of your own, swiping your tongue against his. Your hands move in between your bodies, one pressed against his chest while the other cups his neck. This time, it’s your turn to suck and lick at it as he groans. You pick a spot right in the middle, just below his adam’s apple and continue to nip lightly.
“Baby,” he warns with low moan.
You hum a distracted response, pressing quick pecks all over his cheeks with a final kiss placed on top of his heart through his shirt.
He slumps against you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. You can hear his breathing slowly move from a pant to a steady rhythm.
You gently card your fingers through his hair and press your nose into his temple. “You okay?”
His sigh turns into a dry laugh, “Babe. Whatever happens, let’s never do long distance. Look at what one week apart does to us.”
“That’s just because you’re clingy. I was fine.”
He shifts to narrow his eyes up at you, “I must've kissed you so good, your memories ended up getting jumbled.”
Your cheeks redden, as you giggle and lightly shove him away. “Whatever you say, loverboy. We should head back now.”
He grins as he follows you back to your table, in a much lighter mood than before. Wonwoo eyes him carefully as he settles back into his seat and nods at Seungcheol to take a look. Mingyu manages to stuff a piece of pork belly into his mouth before Seungcheol knocks his chopsticks out of his hands and grabs his collar to inspect his neck.
“Bro.”
Before Mingyu can even respond, the entire table's attention is drawn by Seungkwan who has his hands around your neck, as he shrieks, "What is that?!"
a/n: happy mingyu day week! :) let's pretend this was posted on time...
toto wolff’s reckoning arrives with a wall of thirteen brothers.
ᯓ★ toto wolff x kpop idol!daughter!reader, platonic!seventeen x fem!14th member!reader
ᯓ★ familial estrangement, personal passion v. father’s wishes, miscommunication through assumptions, deep emotional wounds, hypocrisy, crying aftermath, single parenthood, confrontation, father-daughter mirror, 13(!!) protective brothers, technically abandonment, found family v. biological family, reckoning, heavy references to seventeen’s lore*, sibling banter, etc. — angst, slight crack (sponsored by seventeen) — not sponsored by boss!
ᯓ★ paragraph format — 11.7K words
masterlist | part 1 | rookie detective
[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]
ᯓ★ taglist: @wandabillywrites, @bobaaddict, @jsprien213, @mbioooo0000, @missawkwardmarvel, @hazeljisulatte, @aestrelle19, @sandrasteahouse (lmk if you want to be added!)
ᯓ★ all the (austrian) german & korean in this are from google, as usual. there are no physical descriptions for yn, but she is indirectly hinted to be “biologically” related to toto. since she’s a kpop idol, she’s implied to be half-east/southeast asian. her birth year is also specified as 1997—between april 6 and november 7, exclusive. title’s from the band camino’s damage!
ᯓ★ important: you don’t need to know both (f1 & kpop) worlds to understand! but it might be useful to know that *seventeen’s 97-liners in birth order actually goes seokmin-dk/mingyu/minghao-the8, but dk and the8 are officially switched in stuff to keep the8’s branding by making him eighth on member list :D
The Mercedes Team Principal’s office is supposed to be Toto Wolff’s sanctuary. It’s the one place in the entire paddock where he can drop his active guard and simply exist as he is. It’s supposed to be where his current life roles converge, without any titles truly weighing on his shoulders.
Yet, with the now-creased and -tear-stained letter in his hands, and its words seared into his mind, the sanctuary feels more like a fortress.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be.
He has lost count of how many times he has re-read her letter. Much less, how many minutes—hours?—have passed since YN walked out his office door.
All he knows is he unknowingly validated the first thing she apologized for in her letter when he let her leave without telling her he loves her.
He doesn’t need her to be the person he wanted her to be twelve years ago. He just wants her back.
And not just the her that has an affinity and talent for STEM, either. Not just the her who would rather be under a kart than on it, nor the one who assisted him in their home garage and readily participated in various low-stakes experiments and projects. Not just the her that would reach out for easy-to-read STEM books and easy-to-follow STEM videos just because.
He wants the her that earned the nickname "nightingale" with how much she gravitated towards a microphone and musical instruments, too. The her that would sing about anything as she moved about. The her that filled their home with music in varied degrees.
He just wants his eldest—his YN—back.
I’m sorry I used the blueprint you drew to follow a path that took me away from you.
Despite what she personally believes, he knows it isn’t "the blueprint" that took her away from him. Rather, it’s his fear of the path she set her mind to pursue. He had acted on pure logical instinct, dismissing her desire for a creative career because he saw it as unstable and illogical. "The blueprint" only took her away from him because he let it.
He had been incredibly hypocritical. He let his fear of his eldest taking a huge risk swallow him, despite having been quite a risk-taker himself—notably in his youth. She merely inherited that same trait, and applied it to her own chosen path.
In hindsight, it should’ve been a relief for him. At least, YN didn’t follow his early footsteps and pursued a racing career. At least, he didn’t have to worry about her life being constantly in danger inside cars going at insane speeds.
Yet, he let his years as a board executive dictate his perception of what should’ve been an exercise of unconditional love.
It shouldn’t have mattered if being an idol was unstable and illogical. All that should’ve mattered was that his daughter wanted to pursue being one. And he should’ve supported her loudly, regardless of where he was in the world.
Toto exhales as he finally folds YN’s handwritten letter back, following the deepest creases and crearing a new one. However, instead of putting it back inside the album where he found it, he opts to secure the letter inside the left front pocket of his slacks—on the same side where his heart lies.
It’s a very conscious effort not to look at the empty spot on his desk, where a frame of them during one of her science fairs once stood.
It’s an unconscious effort to take out the photobook that the album’s slightly involved packaging conceals. He mentally praises the obvious cohesion in the album title—Happy Burstday—and packaging resembling a one-tier cake in a box.
However, the cohesion seems to have end there, for the photographs inside the photobook are entirely apart from the soft ambience of birthdays. Instead, the concept is obviously dark grunge—delinquent and rebellious.
The YN that greets him, once he finds her pages, is astoundingly different from the perfectly poised professional that he saw during the interview. The latter was clothed in business casual of beige and white, a carefully neutral combination amongst the rainbow of the grid, perfectly matching the other thirteen people beside to her. She had been impeccable in playing the part of a mysteriously charming Kpop idol who is a mere fan of the sport—like that was all she is.
The former, however, embodied the rebel he once thought of her as but never actually was. She had two intersecting scars on her left cheek and a slit on her right eyebrow, courtesy of SFX makeup. Her costume included leather, spikes, fishnets, and chains—although not in the predictable, usual way. Throughout the six pages dedicated to her solo photographs, a smile never graced her lips, as the concept notably required.
Toto doesn’t recognize both versions of the same woman. He does, however, recognize the child and teenager she once was. He saw the analytical glint in her eyes whenever she focuses; the way she crosses her ankles whenever she sits; the habit of raising a pinkie whenever she drinks; and the ease with which she compartmentalizes and—simultaneously—merges both of her interests.
YN’s still—and always will be—his daughter. That’s a fundamental fact that cannot be erased—not by time, distance, nor belief.
In his quest to find more glimpses of her, he eventually flips to the last pages of the photobook. It’s the Thanks To section. He understands nothing from the continuous blocks of Korean letters under the members’ names, which are conveniently written in romanized alphabet.
YN’s name is the tenth name to appear, after a ‘Mingyu’ and before a ‘DK’. Like the previous nine, YN’s Thanks To starts in Korean. However, like the member that goes by the name ‘The8’, the paragraph in Korean is followed by a paragraph in a different language. The8’s second paragraph is in Chinese, based on the strokes of each letter. But YN’s non-Korean paragraph . . . is in Austrian German.
Papa: Vielen Dank für den Spitznamen Nachtigall, die Geige, mit der ich Liebesleid gespielt habe, und das Exemplar von Katz’s Race Car Aerodynamics (1996), das wir gemeinsam gelesen haben. Ich habe alle drei behalten.
[Papa: Thank you for the nickname Nightingale, the violin I played "Liebesleid" with, and the copy of Katz’s Race Car Aerodynamics (1996) we read together. I kept all three.]
A hand flies over his mouth as the gravity of her words’ subtext settles heavily on his shoulders, like a ton of carbon fiber came down from a significant height above—effectively making his eyes water once more.
A ghost of her handwritten words flashes behind his eyelids when he takes a moment to collect himself.
They were all I had.
The irony of YN’s favorite violin piece to play becomes him. Fritz Kreisler’s "Liebesleid"— "Love’s Sorrow," a heartbreak that is a result of a lost love—is a cruel reminder that his lack of support for her chosen path has led them between the very notes of the Viennese composition she loves.
Hours before Flight OZ731 took off to Seoul, the three-day-old tense air between Toto Wolff and YN Wolff still hadn’t dissipated.
They did talk about YN’s acceptance to Pledis Entertainment after dinner three days ago, as he promised, but it didn’t end the way he hoped. She had refused to see reason, and he was adamant not to see past the illogicality.
Unfortunately, being her sole parent for the first years of her life, combined with her strong preference to be around him, they were too alike. Too stubborn, too proud, too headstrong—especially in things they have strong convictions for.
The tension was cold, almost professional, but she still called him "Papa" and he still called her "schatzi."
He still drove her to the airport instead of handing the task to his secretary. He still refused to let her get out of the car when her frustration with the suffocating tension finally resurfaced through her larynx.
"Pull over, Papa," she instructed out of the blue from the passenger seat, breaking the silence that had engulfed them the second they pulled out of their driveway. "Ich nehme einfach den Rest mit dem Taxi." ["I’ll just take a taxi the rest of the way."]
He didn’t miss a beat, his tone just as even as hers did. "Don’t be ridiculous."
He left no room for arguments—he simply couldn’t afford to. After all, he was already running out of time with his eldest—and he knew better than to cut it shorter.
Thankfully, YN didn’t insist.
He might not have approved of her reason for leaving, but he still couldn’t rob himself of the chance to see her off.
Toto was the one who checked in her luggage. There was no hesitation when he accompanied her to the Baggage Check line and handled the check-in clerk for her, even though he knew she could do it herself since she was thirteen.
He handed her passport—and plane ticket—back once they were standing idly at the relatively empty space between the Baggage Check and the Security Check. "Hast du alles?" ["Do you have everything?"]
YN rechecked the items he just handed before patting the bottom of her personal backpack and the handle of her carry-on luggage, affirming non-verbally through touch. She nodded once. "Danke, dass du mich gefahren hast." ["Thank you for driving me."]
With the tension still on the ground they were standing on and in the air they were breathing, everything seemed transactional. Even if it was, deep down, anything but.
He didn’t want her to go, but he couldn’t stop her, either, so he just did everything that he could—without compromising her discretion.
He took out the key he prepared the day before from his pocket. It was a VIP access pass he added to the Mercedes F1 Team’s system himself, deliberately not adding an expiration date and cloning his own access clearance for any paddock as long as a race was scheduled there. The lanyard wasn’t the typical F1 VIP’s, but rather made of a black material with black Mercedes stars littered all around. Her birth name—YN Wolff—was clearly printed on the informational side of the VIP access pass, although it was actually registered under her flight number—OZ731—in the system as a low-energy attempt at encryption.
"You have your Mercedes HQ ID with you?" She nodded in response, patting the backpack strapped on her back once more. "Good. Here, schatzi," he placed the pass on her hand without any prompt, "if you ever decided to visit."
Toto made the delivery as detached as he could, but his suppressed emotion almost broke free through his voice. He kept his expression neutral to sell the nonchalance. Come visit me when you can, whenever you want—in the headquarters or at the paddock.
However, internally, it wasn’t just an invitation. It was a lifeline. It was a key that promised he and his world would never be out of reach, even after she boarded the plane. Please visit me whenever and wherever you want.
YN stared at the pass for a beat too long before she gave any acknowledgment. "Danke, Papa." ["Thank you, Papa."]
She made no promises to use it or her ID, but the mere fact that it was now in her possession had been enough to give him hope. It had to be enough.
His daughter looked back at him before she passed through the Security Check. She held his gaze for a moment, before giving him a small, minuscule nod.
He returned the gesture and held his ground until she was no longer in his sight.
There had been no run for a last hug nor a short affirming declaration of "I love you."
His drive home was silent, but it was nothing like the deafening silence that greeted him back behind the door.
Toto’s hands tremble as he stares at the square cardstock paper he found at the bottom of the album ensemble. It’s another letter, only it’s not a second one from YN; it’s from her bandmates.
To YN’s Papa, Mr. Wolff:
Thank you for the best sister we could’ve ever asked for.
Signed,
YN's brothers
Thirteen distinct signatures surround the message, each with a name written right underneath. He recognizes half of them from their introductions during the press conference and from the Thanks To section of the photobook. The rest are unfamiliar, likely due to their stage names not being the same as their birth names.
He recognizes the names ‘Jeonghan’, ‘Joshua’, ‘Wonwoo’, ‘Mingyu’, ‘Seungkwan’, and ‘Vernon’. He doesn’t recognize ‘Seungcheol’, ‘Soonyoung’, ‘Jihoon’, ‘Seokmin’, ‘Minghao’, and ‘Chan’. ‘Junhui’ is debatable, depending on whether he’s the member who goes by the name ‘Jun’.
Their names aside, the single-sentence letter makes something perfectly clear: the thirteen men YN showed up with love her loudly.
The deliberate use of "our YN" during the press conference wasn’t meant to be a sign of possession. It was an endearment.
They don’t just show their love through gestures. It isn’t just through shielding her from the persistent curious stares, keeping an almost constant hand on the small of her back, or gravitating around her unconsciously. They vocalize their love, too, beyond the "I love you"—securing no room for misinterpretations.
They are proud of their love for her, and they are unafraid for people—most especially YN—to know it.
Their extremely concise letter is much more than an expression of gratitude for sending his daughter their way twelve years ago. It also carries a weight of an implicit report: We’ve been taking care of her, like she has been taking care of us.
More importantly, it’s an unintentional correction of his earlier misconception. Her bandmates didn’t replace him in her life; they are simply the latest, most prominent receivers of her love—and they reciprocate the sentiment in ways YN could never associate with shame or abandonment.
To put it bluntly, the SEVENTEEN boys—her brothers—love her like she deserves. They love her in a way he shouldn’t have deprived her of after it became apparent she wouldn’t be an engineer.
They are not his replacements, but they certainly have been compensating for him—for the father he failed to be—whether they know it or not.
If they had truly replaced him, the flicker of hope he saw die when she noticed the empty spot on his desk would never have ignited. A daughter with no hope wouldn’t have maintained a decade of unanswered album deliveries. But she did, and that silent proof was everything.
Toto takes another look at the cardstock letter before letting his eyes gloss over the empty spot on his desk, where a frame of them during one of her science fairs once stood. His gaze settles on the calendar he keeps right next to it.
The red ink around today’s date stares back at him.
In a world where the advancement of technology has moved calendars onto web platforms, he still purchases a physical desk calendar every year. Not for a second layer of convenience, but solely to keep a semblance of the tradition YN started when she was seven years old alive.
Her evolving handwriting used to accompany the red circle, clearly marking what made that particular date special. For nine straight years, it was a sweet little tradition between him and his daughter. That was, until, on the tenth year, YN had already flown out to Seoul by the time that special date arrived.
It had been a difficult day. The anniversary of her birth had always been a day of celebration, a reason to forget the stress and pressure his job entailed. It had always been a reminder that he had a life outside of his career—outside of Williams, outside of Mercedes. Yet, with her careful all-capitalized handwriting on his calendar and no warmth of her presence on her sixteenth birthday, the guaranteed joyous occasion had turned into an unofficial funeral.
The circle was the only thing he could keep for the first calendar he bought after YN left, and for every single one he purchased after that.
Toto’s hand—the same one he gestures at the pit wall with—reaches for the phone, steady and determined. It isn’t an unconscious move; it is a deliberate one with a crystal clear intention.
His daughter deserves to have an unwavering support system for the challenges her chosen path comes with—more than his silent, clumsy love can give.
And, at last, he’s finally ready to have the checkered flag on sight after twelve laps around the sun.
It’s easy to know where YN and the rest of SEVENTEEN are. After all, the Formula One organization fatefully assigned Mercedes to host their ‘home base’ for the day—which ironically serves as the group’s sanctuary between their F1 collaboration schedules across the entire paddock.
The specific motorhome room loaned to SEVENTEEN is nothing a quick call can’t uncover. And so is their itinerary for the remainder of the day. They’re just simple logistics. He’s great at absorbing logistics.
It’s much more complicated to figure out how to utilize the logistics when they aren’t about a business, but rather about a daughter he hasn’t seen in over a decade.
The logical part of him wants to plan before proceeding beyond the phone. It makes the most sense for the next course of action, given his adamant refusal to mismanage this—potentially last—chance. He needs contingency plans.
Yet, the emotional part of him—the father—wants to just rush over, logic and reputation be damned. There is no sense to consider; just the urge to tell her about the dust-proof cabinet at Brackley and finally hold his eldest again. He doesn’t need contingency plans; he just needs her.
Toto has already lived through a twelve-year consequence of anticipating and managing YN. He certainly doesn’t desire any extensions—or, worse, permanence.
Thus, there he stands: a meter away from the SEVENTEEN-loaned Mercedes room, the door ajar thanks to the branded shoe used as a makeshift doorstopper.
He first registers the noise—or the lack of, that is. For a room that is supposedly housing fourteen people, the absolute silence is strange. There are no low voices conversing, not even clicking cutlery or rustling wrappers, nor a low hum of background music from a portable source.
From his current distance, the only sign of life is the shoe on the door. There isn’t even any light coming from the gap, as if whoever’s in there is considerately conserving electricity.
However, as soon as he gets within three steps of the door, he’s faced with a reality that the Team Principal in him finds absolutely baffling.
The space between the door and the doorframe gives him a clear—albeit partial—view of the situation inside the room. The fourteen SEVENTEEN members are resting, as he unconsciously expected, but the professional decorum is obviously held to a different standard than the one he’s used to.
Toto registers YN first. She’s asleep on the carpeted floor, positioned the same way she had always slept since she was ten. Only the plush toy she hugs in her sleep has been traded for a brother: Woozi, her fellow member-producer, if he remembers correctly. She’s located at the far end of the room, a blanket draped over her. Another member—Mingyu, he thinks, who also belongs in the same team unit as her—serves as her only barrier from the wall. Dino is positioned on the couch above their heads, as does another body that is currently not visible from his current angle. Jeonghan lies by their feet, his head using Mingyu’s legs like a pillow.
He doesn’t need to see the remaining eight members. He already knows they’re also somewhere on the other couch and on the floor, asleep and using each other as pillows, just as Jeonghan has with Mingyu.
Unintentional as it may be, they’re still protecting YN from being easily accessible from unwanted attention and unwarranted disturbance—even in their sleep.
"They say naps between schedules are more comfortable that way," a staff member approaches him without pleasantries, seemingly reading his unvoiced concern. She’s SEVENTEEN’s, based on the triangular logo on her shirt that he has previously seen on the newer albums YN has sent and on the interview backdrop. "They’ve been doing it since pre-debut, I’m told."
"They didn’t ask for pillows or futons," Toto finds himself saying, his eyes wandering over to Dino’s head that’s propped awkwardly against the armrest before staying on his daughter’s sleeping figure.
"They do with what they have," she answers simply as if he’s not the first one to ask about the group’s napping habits. She shifts the black shirt draped on her arm, likely for one of the members inside. "Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Wolff?"
Toto snaps to attention. "Yes, actually." He lets the Team Principal in him take the wheel—purely for professionalism’s sake. "I was hoping to talk to one of the members."
"Is there a specific one you have in mind?" The SEVENTEEN staff member inquires. "JOSHUA is the only one awake at the moment, but I can wake up—"
He remembers reading Joshua’s name after two other names, both in the Thanks To in the album photobook and on the letter they addressed specifically to him. He doesn’t know if it’s just a mere coincidence or if there’s an order he’s not aware of, but he’s willing to bet it means Joshua is one of YN’s older brothers. "JOSHUA is perfect."
Toto doesn’t want to wake any of them up. He knows their itinerary has purposeful gaps between their paddock commitments for them to use as they wish. The fact that they’re using their longest break of the day to nap is very telling of their normal, non-special collaboration schedules.
(They have more freedom to explore the paddock than most visitors, it being a weekday and days away from the hectic race weekend, and yet . . .)
She flashes a professional smile. "Alright. Give me a second to inform JOSHUA."
He remembers Joshua from the interview. He’s one of the members that talked the most, likely because of his fluency and comfort in expressing himself in English. He also appears to be one of the non-intimidating—less intense—members, purely based on his gentler facial features. All in all, Joshua is a great choice to appeal to YN’s brothers as her Papa.
S. Coups, the general leader and her unit leader, theoretically is the best choice. Perhaps even her fellow music producer Woozi, as the member she spends the most time with. However, since those two are leaders of their respective units (Hip Hop Team and Vocal Team, respectively), he figures he’ll inevitably appeal to them as a fellow leader—as a Team Principal—rather than as their sister’s father. He doesn’t want that. (The same rationale goes for Hoshi, who is the Performance Team leader, albeit he doesn’t seem to have any immediately identifiable unique connection with her.)
Toto registers the SEVENTEEN staff member exit the room first, before he sees Joshua by the doorway. His eyes automatically zero in on the wet splotches on the left side of his white shirt, concentrated around his shoulder and chest. They don’t look like they’re from spilled water, more like . . . someone cried on him. "I’ll be with you in a moment, Mr. Wolff."
"Of course," Toto replies, willing himself not to overthink the splotches on his shirt. "Take your time. I’ll wait here."
Joshua gives him a short appreciative nod before disappearing behind the door.
Without the presumed third eldest in his line of sight, his eyes instinctively gravitate towards YN, who has moved closer to Woozi in her sleep.
Despite Joshua—who has changed out of his wet white shirt for the fresh black shirt the SEVENTEEN staff member had brought—nudging the makeshift doorstopper aside and sealing the thirteen sleeping SEVENTEEN members inside, Toto still leads him to a small, empty meeting room a few doors down.
He hasn’t planned what to say—or, more accurately, how to say it. He knows he wants to ask for Joshua’s assistance in apologizing to YN, but he doesn’t know how to vocalize his purpose for speaking with him. Does he just go straight for it, detailing his plan? Does he explain his side of the twelve years first? Does he—
"Thank you for asking to speak to me, Mr. Wolff," Joshua breaks his reverie as soon as they are both situated on the opposite sides of the table. "I was planning to speak with you as well."
Toto instantly knows Joshua wants to talk to him about YN. After all, escalating a simple logistics issue to the top doesn’t seem to be on-brand for the group, which—according to the report he received from the Mercedes representative assigned to SEVENTEEN—is extremely low-maintenance and oddly self-sufficient.
YN apparently requested a Mercedes garage tour, but turned down a guide, and promised to stay out of any lockable doors. Ravi, the Mercedes representative, granted the request under the condition that he accompanies the group as they walk around for Mercedes’ trade secrets’ sake and in case they had any questions. Ravi booked a face-to-face meeting with him later in the day for the full tour report, as the former apparently didn’t feel safe discussing it over the phone (something about YN conducting the tour in Konglish, George tagging along, and Bono making a surprise appearance).
Jun, DK, and Mingyu asked to borrow the hospitality kitchen to cook a pot of ramyeon and several rolls of kimbap. Ravi tried to be a good host representative and offered to have the Mercedes hospitality chefs prepare their requested food, but the three members insisted on doing it themselves. Ravi caved and let the chefs supervise. The result is the anomaly offered in today’s afternoon menu: the Mercedes chefs’ honest attempts to replicate whatever the three gentlemen taught them about making the perfect kimbap—and the slices that found their way to Ravi as a token of gratitude.
Woozi and Vernon, with Red Bull cans and a Moleskine notebook in their hands, asked to borrow a foldable table. They didn’t react much when Ravi regrettably told them there weren’t any available; they just nodded and politely said, "Thank you anyway," before retreating to their loaned room.
Specific details aside, he can’t anticipate what precisely Joshua has to say about YN. Their previous inquiries to Ravi seem to be entirely apart from what YN’s third eldest brother wants to tell him.
"Given the circumstances," he starts slowly, being purposefully vague, "I’d prefer to hear what you have to say first. Please, tell me."
Joshua places his forearms on the table and sits straighter. "I’d like to preface that YN never explicitly told us who her Papa is."
Toto freezes. The YN’s Papa, Mr. Wolff suddenly takes on a completely different meaning. His instincts are telling him to question, to hear specifics, but he holds his tongue. He has given Joshua the floor, and he needs to abide by it.
"He has always just been ‘Papa’—no first name, no occupation, no physical description," YN’s brother continues. "Always a memory; always in the past tense."
As gentle as his delivery is, his words still land with a sufficient blow. Toto doesn’t need him to state it explicitly; he understands YN doesn’t talk about him in the present tense because she can’t. Not when she hasn’t seen and talked to him since she disappeared from his sight at the airport twelve years ago.
"For a time, we thought the worst. It was the only logical conclusion we could come up with, because it was the only one that explained why she’s so vague about her Papa—like there’s an NDA forbidding her to," Joshua pauses deliberately, letting the weight of his words fill the silence. "We were only able to get a solid confirmation that he’s actually alive when YN casually mentioned last week that she’s bringing a signed copy of our latest album here for him."
Toto doesn’t know how to feel about the revelation. He recognizes YN has handled the twelve years in a similar way he did. Only she at least refers to him in remembrance; he refuses to acknowledge her at all. That is, her chosen narrative is that her father’s dead; his chosen narrative is that his true eldest doesn’t exist.
It would’ve been almost comical how alike they are, had it not been so . . . painful.
"We were only able to confirm our suspicions about his identity three hours ago—after YN . . ." Joshua lets his voice fade out before he leans back in his chair, seemingly having no intention of finishing his thought. He removes his arms from the table to loosely cross them across his chest. "What we want to know, Mr. Wolff, is: Why did you stop caring about your Nightingale when she turned ten years old?"
He doesn’t need to think too hard about why he had an abrupt change of heart eighteen years ago. It was precisely a year after he permanently stepped back from the driver’s seat and focused on the business side of the motorsport industry. It was the year he started to value practicality and logic more than risky passion. It was the year he heavily favored her STEM extracurriculars.
"She— she told you about that?" He hears himself ask in disbelief. Frankly, he didn’t think YN would remember when exactly he stopped attending her music competitions and recitals. She hadn’t seemed to mind his absence at the time, since she still happily talked about each one whenever they ate dinner after. He never realized his continuous absence made such an impact—to the point that her new family has heard about it years later.
Her stronger musical inclination aside, his daughter has always been very rational. Even at a young age, after a one-time explanation at bedtime, she understood why he had to be away a lot and why he worked long hours. Her only question, then, was if she could tag along sometimes so she could watch him work.
Joshua nods once, a ghost of a proud smile is suddenly visible at the corners of his mouth, "Her idol name is her birth first name, YN, but her producer name is NIGHTINGALE." His eyes, which have been gently indifferent the entire time, softens. "She said it was a nickname her Papa gave her when she was younger."
The misinterpretation of his question leads him to the most devastating blow yet. The mention of the nickname in her Thanks To isn’t just a nostalgic reference to what their relationship used to be or a loving remembrance to what their identical attitudes forced to become a memory. Rather, it’s a silent declaration of enduring love; it’s her own—slightly more public—version of a circled calendar date. She didn’t just keep the nickname; she immortalized his love and made it part of her professional identity.
The irony isn’t lost on him. YN deliberately signs all her creations for the very career he didn’t approve of with the very nickname he gave her.
It’s another manifestation of her making use of what she has of him because that’s all she has.
The subtle smile on the younger man’s face vanishes as quickly as it appeared. His crossed arms tighten on his chest, his indifferent gaze is a little sharper on the edge, presumably as he realizes the other meaning of Toto’s disbelieving inquiry. "YN told us about how you haven’t attended any of her music-related activities since she was ten the day we won our first award show, after thirteen families—three being overseas—called to congratulate us for the win."
Toto hears the subtext loud and clear: Every member’s families called, regardless of where they were on the globe, except YN’s.
"I remember her shrugging when she said it. I also remember her closing the topic before any of us could react."
Worse: You stopped being there for her when she was ten. Not at fifteen when you opposed to her chosen career path. Ten. Your absence has gone on long enough for her to get used to it and not expect anything from you.
The Team Principal in him would’ve argued the technicality. He would’ve argued that he still tried to make time for her STEM activities, for the science fairs and competitions, so it wasn’t a complete absence. She couldn’t have gotten used to it.
But the father in him knows intentionally selective absence—and not making an effort to attend her music activities—was enough. His daughter has always been perceptive: there was no way she didn’t notice he was only missing her music-related schedules.
YN, his engineering prodigy daughter, used the very skills that make her well-suited to be an engineer to quantify and compartmentalize his disapproval.
"I—" Toto starts to say, but is unable to complete his thought on the first try. "I wanted a different life for her." The admission tastes like a shot of straight, black espresso, bitter and scalding on his tongue, spiking his veins with concentrated regret. "I wanted her to be an engineer."
"Did you dictate the career paths of your other children, too? Or was that a YN exclusive because she’s your eldest?" Joshua’s question is delivered with a sharp edge, albeit his voice remains leveled. His posture is unchanged, as is his composure.
Toto hasn’t even processed the cut of his words before Joshua retracts them, his apology is a reflex that rings hollow. "I apologize, that was out of line. I didn’t mean to be so forward."
For the life of him, he can’t even find the means to be offended. It is, after all, a fair question from a person who loves his daughter completely, deafeningly, and unconditionally.
"I didn’t, not after I saw how it cost me YN."
For a Team Principal, a lack of plan and backup plans is an amateur and detrimental move. However, for a father, it’s almost natural—especially when dealing with the firstborn; especially when dealing with the child that he had parented solo for the first few years.
In hindsight, it’s almost poetic. There had been a lot of thinking on his feet and figuring out things along the way when YN was a baby. Now, it’s like he’s back in the beginning—except she’s already twenty-eight years old and the assistance he’s seeking to survive isn’t his mother’s, but her brothers’.
Joshua drops his arms from his chest, relaxing them onto his lap and resting his elbows on the chair’s armrests. The subtle criticism in his eyes—which Toto hasn’t registered until it’s gone—smooths into an abstruse understanding. "You haven’t lost her completely, Mr. Wolff."
A part of Toto already knows that. It was one of the explanations he came up with that addresses why SEVENTEEN albums manifest at the headquarters’ mailbox 2–4 times a year for the past ten years. It was the only explanation that continues to hold up from the first album (17 Carat) to the last one mailed (消費期限 [Expiration Date]), accounting for the neatly-written ‘Papa’ on every album outbox in permanent marker. Even the newest album—the one she personally delivered, Happy Burstday—upholds it, albeit via letter.
Still, there is great relief in hearing the confirmation straight from someone who knows his daughter more than he does. Especially after he witnessed the hope in her eyes extinguish in real time just hours before. Not all hope is lost, after all.
"In the twelve years I’ve known her, your absence in her musical endeavors is the only remotely unfavorable thing she ever said about you. And she only mentioned it once." Joshua’s register is back to being professionally controlled, betraying nothing and strictly factual. "Every other memory of her Papa, however rare she shares them, are remembered fondly."
He freezes internally. With the tension on his body more lax than when they came inside the meeting room, and his heart notably lighter from fewer unsaid, he finally notices the deliberate distinction YN’s brother has been making. Her Papa is the person she adores, whose love she immortalized in a name, who she hasn’t let go of. He, on the other hand, the person he’s addressing directly through "you," is the person who hurt her, who failed to value what makes her happy, who normalized absence and implied love.
It is a clear mirror of how well YN compartmentalizes. She’s able to still talk about her Papa because she split him into two: one that obviously loves her, and one that put a condition on it. The compartmentalization is the very reason she came in his office with hope still in her eyes, despite his eighteen years of STEM preference and twelve years of radio silence.
"Sora told me you were mystified by our mid-schedule napping." Joshua seems to have moved onto the next topic, but he knows better than to assume it has nothing to do with the point the young man is trying to build up to. "She passed on all the information she had, but there is one thing that sets this particular group nap apart from the usual: it’s entirely unscheduled."
The word "unscheduled" processes like a stalled car, unexpected and anxiety-inducing. He has already accepted that the nap is part of SEVENTEEN’s routine to get through their grueling schedules. He has already rationalized it, even. Yet, to hear that collective quirk is notably—and purposefully—not on the agenda and is, in fact, added on at the last second anyway straight from a source . . .
"We had to do it since we went 13-1 on breaching the F1 collaboration contract after YN broke down because you erased her." Joshua’s tone is absolute. "The nap is a compromise because we wanted to take her away from here as soon as possible, but YN insisted on finishing our commitments here even after mourning a love she believed in all this years."
Toto, despite having decades’ worth of experience in reacting within milliseconds (as a former race car driver and as a current Team Principal for a racing team), struggles to comprehend all the information YN’s older brother just uttered in slow succession.
It’s not data for optimization or repair. It’s certainly not for a machine or a brand, nor from a car or a driver.
It’s data from his own daughter, for the belief he let her walk out of his office with. It’s from the divider of her compartmentalization of him finally breaking from his inaction.
"I didn’t erase her." Toto’s voice comes out weaker than he intends. He clears his throat, willing his conviction to translate into all the channels Joshua can immediately observe. "I didn’t erase her. I— I hid her, every sign of her, in a cabinet back in my permanent office. Not because I’m ashamed of her for choosing for herself, but because I’m ashamed of myself for not supporting her choice.
"I couldn’t— I couldn’t live with all the reminder of my failure, so I hid her." He swallows, tasting the bitterness of the truth stripped bare. "I didn’t think I deserve to say her name, either, so I didn’t."
Joshua’s tone doesn’t lift from factual as he states his assessment, "That’s erasure."
Toto’s shoulders sink. He can’t argue with the younger man’s conclusion. He might have not intended to erase her, but the results of his actions—and lack of—say otherwise.
It is erasure, regardless of his intentions.
He has no defense, nor does he want to. He understands it’s warranted; a long overdue reckoning.
Yet, Joshua’s eyes don’t regain any hint of judgment in them. If anything, they soften even further with something he can’t decipher. "YN really is your daughter."
"What—?" He can’t help but blurt, his confusion evident.
YN’s brother doesn’t give him time to dwell on the accidental unprofessionalism. "I believe you, Mr. Wolff, because you show your love the way YN does: purposely understated and easily overlooked." Nor does he give him a moment to completely process the comparison before voicing his truth. "I noticed how frozen in time YN’s hidden corner—the room with the little nook where she used to take a nap—at the garage is, like someone hit pause."
Once more, Toto takes a moment to comprehend the telemetry. He vaguely remembers Ravi mentioning a garage tour YN requested to lead, the same tour that Ravi booked to give a full in-person report on later in the day. However, the quick summary he was given didn’t mention YN revisiting the unused supply room he had turned into their secret quiet corner—much less include her telling her brothers about the memories she made inside.
Only a selected few of the senior staff know of the room. He hasn’t passed on the trick to open the door—nor have the others, as far as he can tell.
"I’m the one who keeps it the same way she left it," he admits. "I wanted it recognizable and ready for her to use if she ever comes to visit."
A part of him wants to say, I wanted it to still feel like home, but he holds the urge back. It doesn’t seem appropriate to say in front of someone who belongs in her new family.
"I figured as much," Joshua accepts his admission with a small nod. "She is incredibly perceptive, but I don’t think she comprehended the gravity of her old sanctuary’s cleanliness amidst her new truth."
He doesn’t need him to spell it out again. He already connected that the pain of erasure overpowered YN’s sharp perception. "That is on me.
"If you and your brothers will allow it, I would like to show YN that Nightingale has always had a place next to her Papa."
The group nap, as far as YN’s concerned, was another great consensus from SEVENTEEN’s democratic process. It did take a minute to get there since no one is more stubborn than her own brothers, but she technically won the 13-1 debate.
Her thirteen brothers were adamant that they were alright with breaching their collaboration contract with Formula One if it meant she didn’t have to stay in a place that causes her a lot of pain, emotional as that pain may be. She, on the other hand, was adamant that they finish their remaining commitments in the paddock and save themselves from the headache of a breached contract—regardless of their genius idea to give F1 more content than they asked for in exchange for relocating their last ‘big’ schedule there to the old circuit for the Korean Grand Prix.
However tempting it is to have an F1-centric Going Seventeen episode, rescheduling and relocating the ‘big’ schedule—a multi-song performance—will be a guaranteed nightmare.
YN really doesn’t want to deal with all of that, her emotional state be damned.
Thankfully, she somehow succeeded in getting her brothers see reason. She considers that a notable feat, especially since her and Vernon are the only ones with ‘T’ in their MBTIs while the rest have ‘F’. The group nap, where she got to hug Jihoon like they were back on the sofa bed in the Universe Factory’s common room, was certainly a welcomed bonus—and a much-needed hard reset before they face the rest of their hours at the paddock.
Thus, there she is: out of her beige-and-white business casual and into a performance outfit with a Mercedes logo centered on her chest. Her makeup has been redone to incorporate tiny silver star stickers forming a tilde running from her right eyebrow, crossing to her nose, and ending on her left cheek—no doubt a tribute to the logo’s nickname, the Silver Star.
It had been a great idea to insist on being styled with a three-pointed star during the costume fitting weeks ago, instead of letting the stylists decide what team she should represent in the shoot. After all, CARATs have only seen her wear Mercedes whenever she felt like wearing Formula One merchandise. (Her old, well-worn Williams ones—those gifted by her Papa back when he worked for the team during her early teens—stayed out of the cameras in every capacity. Those are her sleep clothes—the fabric thinned by more than a decade of washes, the ones she wears in her home: their old dorms, her apartment, her shared studio complex with Jihoon and Bumzu.)
YN doesn’t wear F1 merchandise too often on camera, just enough times over the years for people who paid enough attention to notice. A team driver cap with Lewis’ 44 on the brim has completed her airport outfit a few times, as does one without any driver number. A team driver tee has hid her athletic figure once for one of "Oh My!"’s recorded dance practices and twice for her impromptu solo live streams. A team jacket has been her outerwear for more times than she can count—her Hit the Road episode, one "TTT" episode for Going Seventeen, "Super"’s choreography video, Nana Tour, concert encores.
She knows the ‘people who paid enough attention’ are mostly—if not all—CARATs. But a part of her has dared to hope her Papa is one of them.
She’s aware that continuing to send albums every comeback despite the lack of response might not be seen for what it is. Not a mere proof of life nor a starting line to her current location as she intend them to be, but a salt in a deep wound or a twisted knife in. Not a hand waiting to receive his like she sees each delivery as, but one with a blade extended.
Thus, as a preemptive countermeasure, she coated her own public identity in silver. She has hoped that, when he’s ready to look at her, he’ll see her in his colors and realize her true intentions with the album deliveries.
But, alas. She gave him his eldest’s heart in his own team's colors, and he mistook it for an idol’s endorsement. He has taken her cipher at face value, completely missing the genius he raised.
Now, she’s set to perform in black and silver when she literally just discovered that she has been signaling a green light to an empty street for the past ten years because a last-minute costume exchange is impossible.
YN takes a deep breath.
She looks into the vanity mirror one last time, searing her reflection—the idol raised as an engineer, decked out in her Pa— Vater’s aesthetics—into her mind.
Her hands unconsciously ghost over the stars adorning her face.
The YN that copies the same movement on the other side of the mirror isn’t the same person that set foot on the same paddock twelve years ago. YN Wolff, who preferred to carry her violin like a backpack than a briefcase, whose go-to everyday makeup consisted of winged eyeliner, mascara, and matte lipstick, only saw the features she inherited from her Papa. YN of SEVENTEEN, who hasn’t played "Liebesleid" in twelve years, whose go-to day off makeup is Korean-style no-makeup, only saw the features she inherited from the other half of her blood; from the mother she never met.
Up until she saw the empty spot on her Vater’s desk, the divide between YN Wolff and SEVENTEEN’s YN has been a mere formality—a thin veil over a singularity. They are one and the same, fundamentally and every way that matters. However, with the knowledge that her Vater has kept no trace of her, she is forced to evaluate.
Unfortunately, she has no time to do such things in depth right away, so she has no choice but to put a pin on it until she does.
One thing is for certain, though: she doesn’t recognize who is staring back at her.
She consciously drops her hand as she slowly turns her head from side-to-side, her eyes never leaving the mirror. "어머, 언니," she starts, her voice laced with genuine amazement and natural playfulness, "저 너무 예쁘게 변신시켜준 거 아니에요?" ["Oh my, Haeun, didn’t you make me look way too pretty?"]
Haeun, despite being used to her compliments about her handiwork, chuckles. "어머, 무슨 소리야!" ["Oh my, what are you talking about!"] The stylist smooths out her hair affectionately, and meets her eyes through the mirror. "우리 YN이는 원래 본판이 예뻐서 그래! 내가 한 건 별로 없다니까!" ["Our YN is naturally pretty! I didn’t do much!"]
"아니에요." ["No."] She drags out the last syllable for a second, and lets the playful pout melt into a smile—one that looks softer than her press conference mask, even if the light doesn't quite reach her eyes. "고마워요, 하은 언니." ["Thank you, Haeun."]
"별말을 다 해." ["Don’t mention it."] Haeun helps her on her feet. The older woman guides her towards the door, almost unconsciously. "오늘 가서 사람들 다 심쿵하게 만들고 와!" ["Go out there and make everyone’s hearts flutter!"]
YN lets out a short embarrassed laugh, her head tilted slightly, "글쎄?" ["Maybe?"] She then gives a little wink and a two-finger salute she picked up from Jeonghan, "노력은 해볼게요." ["I’ll try my best."]
Haeun’s affectionate "너 진짜 네 형제들하고 똑같다!" ["You’re really just like your brothers!"] is the last thing she heard before she closes the door of the designated styling room with a quiet click.
The smile that blooms for no one else to see lights up her entire face, including her eyes.
After all, to be loved is to be calibrated to the same standard.
The assigned guest room for SEVENTEEN inside the Mercedes motorhome—the "borrowed base," as Wonwoo called it earlier, no doubt a jargon learned from his gaming hobby—goes unusually silent the second she opens the door to enter.
If there is one thing SEVENTEEN is known for in music shows’ cramped waiting rooms, it’s the group’s sheer volume. She has seen compilation videos from other idol groups’ contents filmed in waiting rooms where their voices—mostly Seokmin’s—were audible in the background. Their loudness is never intentional, of course, but it is natural. After all, fourteen people are more than what some sport teams put out on the field at a time.
(Some more members and they would’ve had enough bodies to be their own Formula One pit crew.)
YN pauses, her hand still on the door. She doesn’t need any more tells from the thirteen people located deeper into the room—the sudden silence, the loose spread from the couches and the carpeted floor, and the wide eyes of deers caught in headlights are more than enough.
They are talking about her.
Given the day she has had so far, it’s not surprising. Her brothers—the nine older and four younger ones—are just as perceptive and protective as they are sentimental and whimsical. She can’t blame them for conferring, nor does she find them at any fault. It’s just standard procedure whenever any of them fourteen are going through something difficult. By this point, in their twelve years together (ten years as idols plus the two years they spent within the Melona room’s green walls as trainees), it’s subconsciously expected.
YN remembers sitting in a similar conference a handful of times over the years. They have held more than five in total, but the most notable ones for her were the unscheduled strategy discussions about Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Seungkwan. Heavy emphasis on their general leader because they got caught mid-discussion.
Just like how she obviously caught them right now.
She raises an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. "시간 더 필요해?" ["Do you guys need more time?"] Her voice remains flat, her tone dry. However, she can’t stop the teasing smirk that forms at the corner of her mouth. "나 밖에서 기다려 줄까?" ["If you guys want, shall I wait outside?"]
"아니—" ["No—"] Joshua, her third eldest brother, recovers first. Like her, the logo of the Formula One team he’s representing for the upcoming performance rests on his sternum: the Haas F1 Team’s circled H sits proudly between his ribs. Like her, black takes majority of his outfit’s coloring with the second team color—red, in his case—acting as an accent. "Stay. We’re good."
She, understandably, isn’t convinced. "정말?" ["Are you sure?"]
"네, 누나." ["Yes, YN."] Chan replies more convincingly with the perpetually dramatic sigh of being the fourteenth youngest. As much being the only girl is a challenge, having twelve older brothers and an older sister has its own challenges as well. Especially when those thirteen older siblings’ adoration for him often manifests in playful bullying. "믿어주세요." ["Please believe us."]
Only then does the unaddressed tension in the air seem to exit through the door she’s still holding open. YN’s teasing smirk extends to a low chuckle at her younger brother’s dramatics. His borderline pleading eyes are a sight to see, given his current ensemble’s color palette: scarlet red with white. She almost mistakes it as another take on Haas’ aesthetics—maybe even on Alfa Romeo’s—if not for the patches of yellow by his shoulders. With the yellow, his outfit becomes the styling department’s effort to pay homage to Michael Schumacher and Kimi Raikkonen Ferrari eras, since the racing suits then notably have way more white than the current design.
Contrast to Chan’s verbal response, Wonwoo merely catches her eyes and wordlessly pats the spot between him and Junhui. His round, thin-rimmed eyeglasses, despite being scheduled to be removed right before the cameras start rolling, go well with the pink and blue—in more vibrant shades than SEVENTEEN’s official colors, Rose Quartz and Serenity—his styling favors heavily over the white. Contrast to her needing a second to correctly identify Chan’s F1 team personification, her categorization of Wonwoo’s outfit clicks in an instant: Alpine.
"들어올 때 문 좀 닫아줘," ["Please close the door when you come in,"] Vernon politely requests while flattening the collar of his dandelion yellow and cyan blue—definitely classic Renault—leather jacket over his plain white shirt. "도겸이형 . . . 위키드 . . ." ["Dokyeom . . . Wicked . . ."]
YN doesn’t need any more than that. The shenanigans they were up to when the clock struck midnight in their hotel earlier is still relatively fresh in her mind. "알았어." ["Alright."]
She closes the door with a definitive click, sealing them and their impending volume inside their borrowed soundproof base.
She crosses the room in quick, relaxed strides. She subconsciously catalogues the fact that Haeun and the rest of the styling department used black/white as the unifying colors for their costumes—guaranteeing that the fourteen of them still look like one group despite donning colors of different rival teams.
Her two older brothers, the fourth and the sixth, unconsciously move to give her more space as she approaches the spot on the couch that Wonwoo patted for her. Her head immediately finds the way to Junhui’s shoulder as soon as she melts to claim it.
"준휘오빠," she starts, her voice a whisper amidst the growing volume around them, "너 오늘 귤 닮았다." ["Junhui, you look like a tangerine today."]
Junhui has no problem matching her dry wit, "McLaren 들으면 너 죽는다. 걔 파파야에 진심이야." ["You’re dead if McLaren hears you. They’re serious about papaya."]
YN laughs, instantly adapting a teasing lilt, "완전 그쪽 사람 다 됐네." ["You’re already becoming one of them."]
"메소드 연기" ["Method acting"] is all he replies but, in true seasoned actor fashion, conveys more than a playfully smug tone of an older brother. She doesn’t need to look up at him to feel the affection and the warmth. Nor does she need to look around to sense the relief that seems to have filled the air as soon as she laughed.
Wonwoo scoots closer as he adjusts his glasses just before Jeonghan calls her attention from the other couch. "월피," ["Wolfie,"] he begins with the nickname he coined based on her surname, which served as their other nickname for her, "우리가 너 진짜 많이 사랑하는 거 알지?" ["you know we love you a lot, right?"]
YN doesn’t flinch at either displays of affection. She has had twelve years to get used to how easy they say—and show—their affections, and she has also had the same dozen years to get comfortable receiving and reciprocating them.
Her brain doesn’t find the need to rationalize their random bursts of affection. She never needs to. It’s a constant, like gravity.
Just like then. Back when her Williams shirts weren’t as thin and faded as they are now; before her Williams team cap had fraying edges. Back when she took naps on her Papa’s office couch instead of a borrowed motorhome room’s carpeted floor and had a quiet corner to copy the projected blueprints during his meetings to pass time. Back when she was her Papa’s shadow, his little engineer, and his nightingale, all at once.
Still, she finds it slightly ironic that her second eldest brother is currently coated in Williams’ colors. Especially since he looks every bit like the angel he’s been nicknamed as since debut. "알았어." ["I know."]
"야—" ["Yah—"]
"나도 너네 진짜 많이 사랑해," ["I love you guys a lot, too,"] YN adds before Seungcheol can finish his playful whine about the lack of a reciprocation. "More than you know."
That includes you, too, still—against my better judgment.
The volume, just as she—and her brothers and anyone who had ever worked with all fourteen members of SEVENTEEN at once—expected, soared past reasonable decibel levels.
Seokmin had already belted out the infamous "Defying Gravity" war cry thrice, hitting every note while sitting casually on the floor. He was entirely uncaring that his stage outfit is mostly white, or that the Racing Bulls’ signature blue and green is concentrated on his top half. Seungkwan, in his Sauber-inspired and "Thunder" stage-reminiscent green and black stage wear, had also joined in.
So did Jihoon, albeit not of his own accord. That, too, was a sight to see: his arms were nonchalantly crossed—a posture that would have hindered anyone else’s lung capacity—while the Red Bull insignia stretched across his midsection.
Then their self-made background soundtrack shifted seamlessly into the closing notes of "No One Mourns the Wicked." Because, of course, it did. They have just rewatched the Wicked movie before they flew to the circuit: the songs were still far too fresh in their minds.
Amidst the flying high notes, they took photos for the group’s social media and their personal accounts. Aside from the mandatory staff-taken group photos, both as a complete fourteen and as team units, they also took various member-taken group ones. After all, it wasn’t everyday that they collaborate with the F1 organization and don marks of the teams they grew up watching.
YN, in particular, snapped a few selcas with Junhui and Wonwoo flanking her, all three grinning from ear-to-ear. She took a couple with Soonyoung, too, their cheeks pressed together to highlight the facial embellishments Haeun had applied: silver stars for her, faux eyebrow slits for him. The constellation across her face included seven prominent stars—a nod to the seven World Championships under Lewis Hamilton’s belt. Meanwhile, the two slits on both of Soonyoung’s eyebrows represented the four titles each held by Sebastian Vettel and Max Verstappen.
She posed for a few photos with Minghao as well, who was also styled in Mercedes colors, though his palette was a crisp white-and-teal accented by silver arrow hair clips. Then, they called over the rest of their 97-line for a few more: her older Irish twins—Seokmin in his Racing Bulls blue-green-white and Mingyu in his Ferrari red-black—sandwiched her, the four of them standing in total defiance of birth order.
As her eighth eldest brother Seokmin bursts into the theatrical version of "For Good," YN’s mischief returns in the form of teasing the first eldest.
"승철오빠," ["Seungcheol,"] she calls his attention with a tone she knows he will recognize, purposely extending the last syllable of his title in relation to her, "Aston Martin green은 너한테 좀 과한 거 아냐?" ["isn’t Aston Martin green a bit too high-class for you?"]
YN, of course, doesn’t mean a word. There’s just something amusing about purposely messing with her easy-to-sulk leader. She knows, unlike her who had requested her F1 team and the rest who were assigned by the styling department, her eldest brother is bound by contract. He’s a current global ambassador for BOSS, which is an Aston Martin F1 Team sponsor. As such, Aston Martin is implicitly the only costume choice for him.
Though, YN personally thinks Seungcheol embodies the Red Bull aura more. After all, strangers—notably other idols—always find him intimidating, even if he’s not doing anything to warrant the intimidation.
"뭐라냐?" ["What are you even saying?"] Excuse you? is the manifestation of his offense. "내가—" ["I—"]
A knock interrupts Seungcheol’s offended sulk.
Once more, a hush falls over the room. However, in contrast to the silence that greeted her entrance, this one is out of respectful intrigue. Their staff—the ones who have been around long enough, at least—know to enter after knocking, since they’ll have better chances of being heard amidst a fourteen-people chaos if they’re not speaking through a door.
However, the person on the other side doesn’t seem to know the custom, for they just knocked again—louder this time—and called through the door. "SEVENTEEN?"
It’s Ravi, the Mercedes representative assigned to care for SEVENTEEN. The poor soul who has to be their gatekeeper from Mercedes’ resources.
"그분께 감사 선물 좀 보내드리자," ["We should send him a thank-you gift,"] Minghao suggests thoughtfully, his eyes locked on the door as most of them.
Wonwoo agrees without a second of thought, his mind presumably cataloging everything Ravi had to do for them so far, "그러게, 꼭 보내드리자." ["Yeah, we definitely should."]
Chan—who coincidentally stands closest to the door with all the shuffling they’ve done—doesn’t wait for a discussion to break, he simply opens the door. "Hello!"
"Hello, Mr. DINO," Ravi greets back. "Is Ms. YN inside? I have someone in the next room who wants to talk to her."
YN consciously ignores the look her brothers give one another. She has no time to dwell on the suspicion that they know something she doesn’t, especially with a Mercedes representative by the doorway.
She pokes her head around Jihoon’s standing frame, her neutral mask back in place. "I’m here!"
Ravi waits for her to halt next to their youngest before continuing, "Ms. YN, I’ve been instructed to only say that you knew them from before—right before you moved to Seoul."
Right before. That about narrows it down to the Mercedes’ senior figures, past and present. After all, her last months of her pre-idol training years was spent getting acquainted with her Papa’s new co-workers since he moved from Williams to Mercedes.
In short, she has no idea who the person in the other room can possibly be.
It’s definitely not her Papa, though.
"I see." YN doesn’t turn her entire body when she addresses her brothers behind her. She instinctively places a hand on Chan’s back. "나 갔다 올게." ["I’ll go and come back."]
She doesn’t wait, because people of the paddock are allergic to waiting. She doesn’t want to accidentally offend whoever is in the other room. She doesn’t have any intentions of causing an issue that will likely follow SEVENTEEN out of the paddock, either.
As Ravi leads her to the next room he speaks of, which apparently is nowhere near the soundproof room loaned to them, YN opts to spend her energy building a theory on who the person may be. Not to build an expectation or anticipation, but to merely occupy herself so her mind can’t be corrupted by the same thoughts she tried to bury with a nap.
YN immediately eliminates Tony Ross, Nico Rosberg’s (later Valtteri Bottas’) race engineer—for the sole reason that Tony doesn’t work at the F1 paddock anymore, as far as she’s aware.
So does Nico Rosberg, albeit he occasionally works for Sky Sports in covering Grand Prix rounds. Since today is an early weekday, she highly doubts Nico is around to report—much less to catch up with the girl who used to follow him and Lewis around twelve years ago.
She takes Peter Bonnington out of consideration as well, because Bono obviously didn’t recognize her during their quick interaction earlier. Unless, of course, he suddenly remembers the fifteen-year-old girl that used to ask him about telemetry and ultimately realizes who she is.
She’s not certain of what to think of those that left Mercedes, but stayed on the F1 paddock. James Vowles has the entire Williams Racing team to run now, a responsibility as heavy as her Vater’s. Lewis Hamilton has the whole Ferrari team—and culture—to get used to as well, having moved to the Italian team from this season and onwards. There is simply no time for either of them to linger in now-enemy territory.
Which leaves her with Andrew Shovlin. She didn’t catch him during the garage tour she took her members and George Russell on but, even then, she doubts Shov recalls a menace from twelve seasons ago. Especially if that menace just disappeared with an unexplained "I’m moving to Seoul."
Ravi breaks her reverie by finally halting in front of a door. He doesn’t comment on her almost bumping into him. He simply opens the door and steps aside to let her through, "I’ll wait here, Ms. YN."
YN nods in affirmation. "Thank you, Ravi."
She doesn’t allow herself a single second of hesitation. She dons her unreadable professional mask with practiced ease, her composure hardening into something impenetrable before she even crosses the threshold.
The sterile, corporate smell of eucalyptus and industrial expense hits her first. Then the scarlet red—
"Lewis," she breathes off-guard before regaining her armor. She clears her throat in reset, for a second chance to embody the rigorous idol training she underwent for two years. "Sir Hamilton."
"Lewis is fine," Lewis corrects with the warmth she remembers from twelve years ago, "unless you want me to call you ‘Ms. Kang’?"
Kang. The Korean surname Pledis gave her, the same way they gave Junhui ‘Moon’ and Minghao ‘Seo.’ Not because it’s essentially the same name like Wen-Moon and Xu-Seo, but because Kang embodies the strength and power that comes with the name Wolff the best. It’s the only surname connected to her public identity, albeit she’s more commonly known mononymously by her first name/stage name YN.
(The ‘real name’ section of her Namu Wiki profile only says "YN," with no surname. "Kang" only appears in her public profiles that has ‘Korean name’ sections for foreign/foreign-born idols. She might be tight-lipped about her family, but she is not a liar.)
For Lewis to know her public surname, when all she left him was ‘Seoul’ . . .
YN relaxes her posture with a grin, willing the professional steel of her spine and her shoulders to melt like ice. "YN for me, then."
The Rosso Corsa on him, where Mercedes colors used to drape, is irrelevant the second he smiles. The lines of team rivalry instantly turn into mere chalk drawings on asphalt the moment he opens his arms for a hug. "You’ve been busy, Engineer Nightingale."
YN enters with the same speed and enthusiasm she reserves for the thirteen people waiting for her, completely abandoning professional decorum for familial warmth. "So have you, Seven-time World Champion."
She closes her eyes when he chuckles, tightening her hold to let herself savor the vibrations of his happiness. "I heard SEVENTEEN won Artist of the Year and Album of the Year recently. Congratulations."
"Thank you," her voice comes out lower than she intends. "That means a lot, coming from you."
"Of course." He pats her back with the same hand that did so when she was fifteen and was bidding a farewell she wasn’t sure the expiration of; the same hand that steered straight into six more titles after she left. "I’ve always known you’re destined for great things, YN."
She lets out a low, embarrassed chuckle. She may have been performing all her life, but she still doesn’t know how to receive compliments—even with twelve years of supposedly getting used to them as an idol trainee and an idol.
"How did you—" YN isn’t sure how to finish her inquiry. How did you know I’m in SEVENTEEN? How did you know about the MAMA Grand Prizes?
After all, Pledis Entertainment only put her in consideration for the SEVENTEEN lineup roughly a month after her training started. She boarded Flight OZ731 not knowing she’ll eventually be starring in Seventeen TV, much less that she’ll eventually be the only girl of a fourteen-membered boy group.
Lewis, thankfully, doesn’t need any more prompting. "I met S. Coups at the Met Gala earlier this year. He said he was there for BOSS, but what intrigued me was his leader position in a Kpop group called SEVENTEEN with only fourteen total members." She hears him laugh as she affectionately presses the constellation on her face onto his Ferrari gear, trusting the unbudging formula of her stage makeup to let her breathe the closest scent of her childhood without any worries. "I searched up the group out of curiosity, and found you. And everything you guys have been up to for the past ten years."
YN chooses that second to pull apart from the hug, partly because she can tell he has no plans of initiating the separation himself. Her "oh" is more than an exhale of comprehension, but also one of silent relief. ‘Ten years’ meant Lewis’ research wasn’t deep enough to unearth their two years in the Melona green room for Seventeen TV, where she was barely learning how to perform and communicate in Korean; where she and the others mostly did whatever they wanted until Pledis staff gave them missions to complete; where they learned to listen to Soonyoung when he’s running dance practice like the army, to never mess with Jihoon especially when he has a guitar in his hand, and to follow Seungcheol’s lead whenever he’s trying to get them out of trouble.
"Did he say he’s a big fan of you?" She tilts her head in genuine wonder, her eyes dancing in mischief. "Because he definitely is. He spammed our group chat as soon as he was off the clock that day."
(Seungcheol might be the general leader, her unit leader, and the only member she really obeys, but she’s also her brother.)
"Not quite," Lewis shakes his head lightly, unable to hide his amusement. "But I’m assuming that’s your influence?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny," she grins. "On a completely unrelated note . . . I have thirteen people who will probably forget how to breathe when you enter the room. Do you have time to meet my members?"
ᯓ★ re: “never mess with Jihoon especially when he has a guitar in his hand” — it’s important to me that you guys know that this meme is actually jihoon and mingyu, thank you for reading (⁀ᗢ⁀)
toto wolff faces his own undoing when the daughter he has long buried reappears at the paddock.
ᯓ★ toto wolff x kpop idol!daughter!reader, platonic!seventeen x fem!14th member!reader
ᯓ★ familial estrangement, personal passion v. father’s wishes, miscommunication through assumptions, reunion, deep emotional wounds, crying, 13(!!) protective brothers, lying by omission, emotional breakdown, technically abandonment, found family v. (biological) family, etc. — angst, slight crack (sponsored by seventeen)
ᯓ★ paragraph format — 9.7K words
masterlist | rookie detective | part 2
[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]
ᯓ★ all the (austrian) german & korean in this are from google, as usual. there are no physical descriptions for yn, nor is she directly referenced to be biologically related to toto. since she’s a kpop idol, she’s implied to be at least half-east/southeast asian. title’s from the band camino’s damage!
ᯓ★ i just wanted an antithesis of the ghost of you!kimi räikkönen, and i somehow made it here? certainly didn’t expected it to be a monster, though, oml. important: you don’t need to know both (f1 & kpop) worlds to understand! :]
Before the program Seventeen TV welcomed its sole female trainee during its third season, Toto Wolff first had to lose his eldest.
The day before Flight OZ731 took off to Seoul, a non-expiring VIP access pass was added into the Mercedes F1 Team’s system. It’s the same pass Toto handed his eldest years ago with a rasped "if you ever decided to visit." It sat like an unfulfilled promise for twelve long years.
Within those twelve years, Toto’s eldest became a whispered myth within Mercedes. Unlike her paternal siblings, her face doesn't grace any of the frames in his Brackley office or the temporary ones he keeps at the paddock. As far as anyone knows, she has never set foot in the Mercedes area—and he has never spoken her name.
Yet, she haunts Mercedes with vengeance. Her presence is felt above the deafening roar and below the absolute silence. She lives in the unsettled tempers and the cold rain.
She exists in the phantom number on his family tree, the only one whose name never reaches the public. She exists in the vague recollections of Lewis Hamilton, Peter Bonnington, Andrew Shovlin, James Vowles, and any other senior Mercedes figures, who remember working for him in the early days.
She exists in the date forever circled in red on his calendar. She exists in the signed music albums he never allows dust to touch.
She exists around him, but never with him since she boarded Flight OZ731 and chased a dream he didn’t approve of.
Now, twelve years later, Mercedes is abuzz with whispers they don’t yet understand: the custom VIP pass they had only heard of just scanned into the paddock.
"I feel like I should fix myself up a bit," one of the mechanics fidgets with his standard-issue uniform. "How’s my hair?"
"Hey, can I hang out here for a bit?" Another finds himself at a different motorhome, seeking refuge. "Mercedes is a jittery hub right now. Something about a ghost visitor."
The air crackles with a nervous energy, a tense anticipation that hangs thick and heavy. They stand on the precipice of a moment they can’t possibly prepare for, holding their breath.
Then, in a single, heart-stopping instant, the wait is finally over.
The fabled VIP access pass swings from the neck of a visitor, catching the light as she moves. A ghost of the man she came from haunts her features, from the determined set of her jaw to the stoicism in her gaze. She's surrounded by thirteen men who move as an impenetrable, well-oiled unit. She’s not their leader, nor their youngest, but their protective wall around her is unmissable.
The whispered "hana, dul, set" halts the paddock's murmurs just in time for the authoritative start of a group introduction. "Say the name—"
"SEVENTEEN!" Fourteen voices echo in the paddock hospitality, synchronized in every beat—down to the humble bow. "Hello, we are— SEVENTEEN!"
As she offers a blinding smile to the murmuring crowd, it's a silent declaration: she belongs to both worlds, yet it's the men standing beside her who truly bring her home.
Toto Wolff can only watch. The world around him blurs, the seemingly ceaseless chatter of the crowd fades into a distant hum. His vision tunnels, narrowing until all he can see is her.
Her—the phantom of a child he once held, a ghost of a daughter who exists only in his memories, superimposed over the woman standing on the makeshift stage. He doesn’t know her.
For a fleeting, agonizing moment, he feels the stoic mask he prides himself on almost shatters. He doesn’t like the thought that just crossed his mind, but her twelve-year absence is a physical weight he can’t ignore. He doesn’t know her.
An F1 staffer purposely hands her a microphone, their hidden agenda as secret as Mercedes’ loud whispers. She accepts it with an inaudible "thank you" before skillfully passing it down the line until the microphone eventually lands on someone who owns it. The familiar, practiced gesture of teamwork makes his chest tighten.
"How does it feel to be here at the F1 paddock?" The interviewer asks.
"Honestly surreal," a clear American accent booms from the foamed microphone. "We’ve been fans of Formula One since our YN—" the possessiveness preceding her name stings, especially with the soft, adoring chuckles the rest directs her way— "introduced us to the sport back in our trainee days. We all came from different backgrounds and had some language barriers then, but watching the races together really brought us closer."
Toto takes every cut each word makes. "Our YN" twists in his gut, a stark reminder that she belongs with them now.
"It’s a dream come true to be here," another member continues succinctly, with a short nod. There’s a slight tremble in his voice, but it fades away when she taps him encouragingly. "It feels like everything’s come full circle."
The ease of their existence around each other pierces through him. He doesn’t know these men whose hearts beat the same way as hers, just like he doesn’t know her.
"Yeah, we just want to say a big thank you to Formula One for having us here," a third member adds on. His American accent sounds more casual than the first, "especially during the year of our tenth anniversary. It really means a lot."
"Congratulations on your tenth anniversary! That’s a huge milestone." The assembled crowd watches as the members pass around the two microphones—almost playing hot potato with them. "Are there any special plans to celebrate the occasion?"
"Thank you," the fourth member unlucky enough to hold a microphone responds. The rest nod along in supportive agreement. "As this is our tenth year as a group, we planned to celebrate the whole year." He chuckles lightly, some chuckling along with him. "But so far we’ve released our fifth full-length album and held a birthday concert with our CARATs."
"We’re actually filming something special while we’re here," her sudden interjection catches a number of people in the crowd off-guard, including him, "but we’ll try our best to stay out of everyone’s way."
Unlike her members, her response is curt and dry. She doesn’t have the playful and friendly undertone the rest had—just professionalism through and through. Even if she tried to smile it off in an attempt to add humor, it’s obvious she says the last part for someone in particular.
Her gaze finds and holds his for a split second, and in that fleeting, devastating connection, he understands. She isn’t there for him.
It makes the most logical sense, yet it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Toto’s ears ring. The air around him thins. His entire world narrows to a single point: her—the phantom of his little girl who loved music more than she loved him.
The interviewer tries his best to bring the energy back. "Since you’ve mentioned you guys have been watching races since your trainee days, which teams or drivers are you guys rooting for this season?"
The one with a clear American accent immediately obliges to his mission. "Oh, we’re all rooting for the same team."
The rest corroborate with a solemn nod—before a cacophony of answers erupts.
"Ferrari."
"Williams!"
"McLaren!"
"Haas."
"Red Bull!"
"Sauber."
"Aston Martin."
"Mercedes!"
"Racing Bulls."
"Alpine!"
The thirteen men name all ten teams at once, effectively making the crowd laugh. It’s a comedic timing perfectly executed. They are cogs of one machine—and he feels the sting of knowing his eldest completes them.
The interviewer chuckles. "It sounds like you guys are a little divided! So which team is the true favorite here?" he asks, looking directly at her. It’s the perfect set-up he must’ve been waiting for.
The entire assembled crowd holds their breath. He finds himself swept up in the silence, his own breath held tight in his chest.
She takes the bait with a nonchalant shrug. Her gaze, cold and steady, finds his, looking away just before her answer changes their lives. "My heart has always belonged to Mercedes."
The backrooms of the Mercedes garage is relatively the quieter part of the entire building, with its padded walls meant to keep the chaos of the paddock out. Toto, as the Team Principal, gets the luxury of occupying the quietest corner, the furthest room from all the action.
In there, he’s just Toto—no decorations attached. Still a boss, a father, and a husband with responsibilities, but with a lifted pressure to perform and be seen. The sterile, white walls of the room serve as a canvas—not an extension of his public persona, but a private space where he can simply exist. It's a sanctuary where he can momentarily step away from the relentless demands of his role and just be.
A knock resonates from the door, breaking his concentration just enough to respond. "Come in!"
He already knows who entered before he looks up. After all, he exists in the fast-paced world of Formula One—his usual visitors start talking as soon as they enter.
His eldest’s silence is purposeful, a deliberate pause between musical notes meant to build anticipation. Her presence, too, vibrates in a frequency distinct from the high-energy rhythm of Formula One—resembling a softer, more complex melody he doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t meet her eyes right away. Instead, he looks up and watches as she scans the room with mild interest, taking in the minimal personal touches he's added. There are photos of his wife, Susie; Lewis and Bono celebrating one of their championships; George and Kimi; Benedict and Rosa at Benedict's university graduation; and Jack with his kart.
"I just wanted to drop this off," she eventually says, her voice clear and professional as she places a white-and-green album on his desk. "For your collection."
"Thank you," his response sounds as disconnected as she did despite his sincerity. "I’ll put it with the others."
He sees her gaze linger on a specific empty spot on his desk, where a frame of them during one of her science fairs once stood.
He catches the second a flicker dies in her eyes—and how quick it was for her shoulders to drop ever so slightly and for the determined set of her jaw to harden.
The blow hits him like a Formula One car coming at top speed. He almost tells her about the custom-made, dust-proof cabinet at his office in Brackley where he keeps his favorite childhood photos of her and all the music albums she has sent. He almost tells her how he doesn’t allow anyone else to see them because he doesn’t have the strength to talk about her without being reduced to tears. He almost— but he doesn’t.
And almost is never enough.
"I won’t keep you, Vater." There’s no warmth, no flicker of emotion in her professional tone. "Thank you for having us."
Without waiting for a response, she turns and walks out, leaving him alone with an echo of "Vater"—a title so foreign it contaminates his memories of a little girl who used to call him "Papa."
His eldest earned the nickname "nightingale" early. She was always singing— performing whenever she had the chance. Her favorite toddler toys were a xylophone and a singing contraption, which were later replaced by a toy microphone and a guitar. Eventually, there were formal lessons. Throughout it all, their home never knew true quiet—and he didn’t prefer it any other way.
Toto was proud of her musical talent, but he saw it as just one of her many skills. She was equally gifted in science and never shied away from working with him on projects. He encouraged the music, believing it was important for her to be a well-rounded person, but he never mistook it for her true path.
He never would’ve thought his well-intentioned encouragement would eventually backfire on him.
YN barreled into his office, vibrating on her feet. A Mercedes hat sat proudly on her head, a VIP access pass comfortably resting around her neck. "Papa!"
"Yes, YN?" He looked up, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he met her sparkling eyes.
She could barely contain herself. She squealed, "Ich habe eine Zusage von Pledis bekommen!" ["I got an acceptance from Pledis!"]
He gestured for her to sit down, secretly afraid she’d start bouncing off the walls if he left her standing. "Pledis?"
She obliged, humming in affirmation. "Remember I told you about that one judge in my last competition? The one that said she liked my performance so much, she sent a video of it to her boss in Seoul?"
He took a moment to think. He stopped attending her music-related activities when she turned ten, so he was left to rely on her relays and debriefs since. Admittedly, it was more difficult to riffle through memories of her retelling than of her actual performances. "The one that said you might be a good fit to train to be a performer in South Korea?"
"To be an idol, Papa," she corrected, her voice filled with undeniable reverence, "but yes, that. Apparently, the company she works for is Pledis."
He considered it with a slow, thoughtful nod. "Herzlichen Glückwunsch, schatzi." ["Congratulations, darling."]
"Danke, Papa," ["Thank you, Papa,"] she beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ich überlege, ihr Angebot anzunehmen." ["I’m thinking of accepting their offer."]
Toto froze at that. He wasn’t versed in what training to be an idol entailed, but the mere fact that she would have to be in South Korea—where he wouldn’t be—was already an unpleasant thought. "Willst du ein idol werden?" ["You want to be an idol?"]
He couldn’t believe his ears. Not when he had a photo of them during one of her science fairs framed on his desk. Not when two more hung on his office walls: one of her mid-laugh after an experiment exploded on her face; another of her grinning, covered in soot and grime, with a wrench in her hand.
She wasn’t supposed to be a performer. She was supposed to be a problem-solver. An engineer.
"I hob glaubt, du willst Ingenieur werden?" ["I thought you wanted to be an engineer?"] He blurted out, the words tasting like ash laced with desperate hope.
"I hob des nie gsogt." ["I never said that."] YN quickly rebuffed, words sharp. "I hob nur gsogt, 'Ingenieurwesen mocht Spaß.'" ["I only ever said, ‘Engineering is fun.’"]
"Ingenieurwesen mocht Spaß" burn him like a soldering iron. Fun. Not a calling. Not a passion. Not the life he had so meticulously—and silently—planned for her. Just fun.
The foundations of his world began to crumble beneath him, but he persevered like a driver pushing old tires to the checkered flag. He had to make her understand. He needed her to know she’d be making a mistake if she pursued that fleeting path. "Becoming an idol . . . Des is ned praktisch, YN. Des is ka sichere Karriere." ["Becoming an idol . . . That’s not practical, YN. It’s not a stable career."]
He almost took it all back when he saw the light in her eyes dim, with her shoulders tensing and her jaw tightening. A short, desperate plea for her to smile again was already on the tip of his tongue, but his fear for her future was far stronger than his immediate regret.
"Owa du host gsogt, i kann do whatever makes me happy." ["But you said I can do whatever makes me happy."] Her voice was quiet, but heavy with accusation.
"Jo, und i man's ernst," ["Yes, and I mean it,"] he confirmed, his voice a touch softer. "But I didn’t mean this."
"Then what did you mean?"
It wasn’t the first time he and YN didn’t see eye-to-eye. It had been an occasional occurrence since she reached thirteen. Still, it was the first time he felt their relationship was truly on the line.
It didn’t help that this was something he wasn’t prepared to discuss with her, either. Frankly, he didn’t even think he would have to. He thought—
Toto sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose, "Let’s talk about this later, after dinner."
YN didn’t move right away, her body a statue of disappointment, but eventually stood. "Okay."
He hated how the conversation went. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. A part of him was convinced he’d have to thread carefully, else he’d risk completely fracturing his relationship with his eldest. He didn’t want that.
"I hob di liab," ["I love you,"] he called after her, subtly seeking a signal that they were still okay.
YN paused by the door, a small smile returning to her features, "I di a, Papa." ["(I love) You, too, Papa."]
Toto blinks, returning to the reality far removed from what it once was. He’s still behind his desk—in same the office, under the same pin on the map—but nothing else stayed the same. Not the scattered decorations serving as peeks into his personal life. Not the title that still rings in the silence he’s left alone with. Not the distance—chasm—that separates him and his eldest.
It’s difficult to believe he was once, as she put it at seven years old, her "most favorite person in the entire universe."
Now, she can’t even look at him for more than three seconds.
The white-and-green album she left mocks him. The bold, emerald green title blazes like a neon sign—screaming at him with an irrefutable taunt that it knows more about the woman his eldest grew up to be than he ever will.
It jeers him—daring him to look at the woman he created a stranger of.
Toto reaches for the album, fingers tentative as if he’s touching thin glass.
He sees a handwritten letter first. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, but he identifies the capitalized block letters of a budding engineer before the familiar script of "Papa" does.
She always wrote "Papa" on the music albums that found their way to him.
Papa,
As we cross ten years since our debut, I want to extend my utmost gratitude to you.
I know this isn’t the life you wanted for me. You raised me to be someone else—someone with a stable career, someone who builds things and solves problems, someone who follows the path you laid out.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be.
I’m sorry I used the blueprint you drew to follow a path that took me away from you.
I used every lesson you ever taught me—to trust myself, to work hard, to stand back up every time I fall—because I was too afraid to hold onto you. I couldn’t bear the thought of being a burden or of you regretting letting me go. They were all I had.
It wasn’t easy reaching ten years. As the only girl in a group with thirteen boys, there were moments I wanted to quit, to find someone who could contact you and just take me home. But every time I almost did, I remembered what you told me once: failure is a necessary part of the journey. You said a true champion’s mark isn’t in their wins, but in their ability to keep going. I never forgot that.
It’s probably not what you want to hear, but a part of you is the reason I made it this far.
So, thank you, Papa. Really.
With love,
Your YN
P.S. I hope it’s not too much to ask for a hug when we meet.
Toto’s eyes blurs as the stoic façade he has fought hard to maintain fractures with a hot, single tear. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away.
He stares at the last lines like they’re his lifeline.
His breath shudders, hands suddenly unable to hold the feather-light paper.
For twelve years, he had foolishly believed his little girl merely haunted him because he refused to let her go. His secret, dust-proof cabinet was a shrine to a time he couldn't get back and to a person he had lost. He had convinced himself that the albums bearing her name and face were just artifacts, not messages.
Worse, he had assumed she was gone because he didn't recognize her in the woman before him. She didn't smile or laugh the same. She didn't look at him the same. She no longer addressed him the same.
But that wasn't the case.
His little girl hadn't left; she had simply learned to protect herself and be self-reliant because she thought she couldn't count on him. She was still here, hidden under all the calluses and the wounds she had endured alone in twelve years.
It was all his fault.
Toto lifts his gaze in a futile attempt to discourage another tear from escaping, but it merely lands on the empty spot on his desk, where a frame of them during one of her science fairs once stood.
His eldest— YN came to his office with a hope for reconciliation, eyes searching for a sliver of love, and found herself completely erased from his life.
She walked out the door thinking he didn’t love her—and he let her.
It’s strange to be back at the paddock where she received the email that changed her life forever. She was only fifteen years old then; now, a lifetime later in her late twenties ("Practically thirty," as she and her members would joke whenever their muscles strained a little too much), she’s a stranger to her own life.
Being back in this domain of her childhood with her members is a surreal full-circle moment. She had first introduced them to this world when a language barrier stood between them. Now, she’s finally sharing its magic with a group that understands her beyond words.
Frankly, she was excited when their staff told them Formula One had allowed them to film here. She would have assumed a working race week would be off-limits for a film crew, but a part of her suspected her birth surname had something to do with the special permission.
Alas, as she just realized, it couldn’t be a string her father pulled.
YN tries not to think about it, but she sees the empty spot on his desk every time she blinks.
"Excuse me," a voice breaks her out of her thoughts just before she reaches the front of the Mercedes garage. She halts. It’s George Russell.
She guards her expression to mask her confusion. Why is an F1 driver approaching her? "Yes?"
"Do you mind if I tag along to the tour for you and your mates?"
She fights hard to not squint at him suspiciously. "Mr. Russell—" she sees no need to pretend she doesn’t know who he is— "with all due respect, don’t you have more important things to do than follow along to a tour of your workplace?"
"Just George, please," he offers an easy smile with his polite request. "And technically, yes, I do. I’m between debriefs and simulator sessions, so I’m free to roam."
She doesn’t buy the flimsy excuse. The paddock is a hive of activity, and an F1 driver doesn’t just "roam." Her eyes flickers to the closed office door she just left, a clear accusation forming on her tongue. He sent you, didn’t he? As his spy, his proxy?
She bites the thought back, in the name of her SEVENTEEN, and reminds herself can’t afford to burn a bridge when she’s a ghost so thoroughly erased. Right now, she’s not just an unwanted reminder of the past her father had apparently buried, she’s also a shield for her thirteen brothers, and she won’t let this man—or the man who sent him—breach her defensive wall. "It’ll be in Korean."
George doesn’t let it deter him. He merely shrugs, his natural charm oozing through, "It’ll be fun."
YN is really contemplating asking if he knows her, because why else is he insisting on tagging along with a bunch of foreign strangers? He doesn’t look like he knows Kpop, much less SEVENTEEN. Alas, she isn’t mentality available to hear any of his possible answers to that, so she just sighs. "I’ll ask."
After all, as her brothers often remind her, she isn’t alone—and SEVENTEEN makes decisions together.
Before either of them can say anything else, she feels her members’ presence before they appear in her line of sight. It's a low hum of energy, a familiar, chaotic rhythm that her body instinctively relaxes into. It's the same feeling she gets just before a show starts or a song drops.
Kimi Antonelli is in front of them, looking every bit like a guide assisting a lost group, his politeness is a stark contrast to the boisterous energy that radiates from the thirteen men behind him. "Here we are," he says with a wide, polite gesture, "the Mercedes garage."
"Thank you, Ki—"
"YN!" Mingyu’s polite gratitude is effectively interrupted by Soonyoung’s unrestrained glee. The sound of her name, shouted in pure excitement, releases endorphins in her brain—dissolving the armor further hardened by her cold encounter with her father.
A smile immediately decorates her features, starting from the corners of her lips and reaching her eyes. Relief visibly spreads through her entire body, relaxing her posture from a tightness she didn’t even realize.
She excuses herself to George with a slight bow, her feet already closing the gap between her and her members. "멤버들!" ["Members!"]
"우리 Max Verstappen 만났어!" ["We met Max Verstappen!"] Her older brother excitedly reports, his voice still filled with awe, as soon as she approaches.
The pure, unadulterated joy on his face is contagious. "Max 만났어?" ["You met Max?"] She asks, her own voice full of genuine, wide-eyed wonder. "와아. 대박! 너희 사진 찍었어?" ["Woah. That’s awesome! Did you guys get a picture?"]
Jihoon hums, his usual dry humor making her smile even wider. "우리도 순영이만 같이 사진 찍게 했어." ["We also got him to pose for a photo with just Soonyoung."]
"순영이형 Max한테 호랑해 시켰어," ["Soonyoung made Max do Horanghae,"] Minghao reports, a hint of playful accusation in his voice. He grins at her, knowing she’ll get the joke.
YN laughs at that, the sound warm and genuine. The heavy weight of her father's disapproval and her own painful memories falls away, replaced by the simple thrill of her members' happiness. She’s the one who told them that Soonyoung and Max should take a picture together, because he's SEVENTEEN’s tiger and he’s F1’s lion.
For a moment, surrounded by the familiar comfort of her brothers, she feels a profound sense of peace—and utterly forgets where she is. "나 그거 좀 봐야 돼." ["I need to see that."]
Unfortunately, it’s not meant to last long, for Chan unknowingly brings her back to the reality. "저 남자가 자꾸 쳐다봐, 누나." ["That man keeps staring at you, YN."]
Her brothers’ expressions change in an instant, sharpening with a promised threat. Twelve older wolves follow the youngest’s line of sight, eyes already narrowed, before she can even comprehend.
"그 남자가 우리 YN 좋아해?" ["Does he like our YN?"] Jeonghan questions for the rest, voice dangerously low and almost conspiratorial.
YN’s sensitive ears picks up Kimi’s amusement from somewhere behind her. "They’ll eat you alive."
The air around her cackles as thirteen pairs of eyes cage George Russell.
YN can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from deep within her, melting the tense cage of eyes into endeared looks.
George Russell joins the tour, in the end. Not because YN vouched for him, but because Kimi did. She is yet to hear how her members unanimously approved of the younger Mercedes driver and his judgement, but she has no complaints. It’s just a shame that his word landed opposite of what she was hoping for.
She could’ve vetoed it, but her curiosity about George’s endgame is a stronger force than her apprehension, so she simply lets it happen.
George doesn’t fight to be their tour guide, but he doesn’t question why she wants to be, either, instead of getting a Mercedes team member to do it. Unfortunately for him, that doesn’t help loosen up her apprehension—if anything, it just strengthens her suspicion that he does know who she is; that he’s sent to her way with a mission.
YN decides to give him a show. After all, she is a performer, and she knows how to play a part.
"Alright, 여러분." ["Alright, everybody."] She claps once, perfectly mimicking the opening of her group’s iconic set opener "Clap." It doesn’t resonate as loudly as Seungcheol’s, but it does its job. "들어가기 전에: 프라이버시 문제로 촬영은 불가하다는 점 다시 한번 말씀드립니다. Capisce?" ["Just a heads-up before we go in: filming is not allowed due to privacy concerns. Capisce?"]
"Capisco!" Her members and George reply in unison. She grins, satisfied. She’s the one who taught her members that, back when Italian was still strong on her tongue.
On any other day, she wouldn't have even blinked at the sound of her own surname. Her members call her "Wolff" so often, on- and off-camera, that it's become their special nickname for her. Her representative emoji is a gray wolf, too, so even their fans—CARATs—sometimes call her "wolf," even though they don't know her birth name. She’s simply too used to the name.
Unfortunately, today is different. Today, she's at the paddock, surrounded by the past she traded away for a future in a field she loves. Today, she's carrying the heavy weight of being erased by someone she'd held onto for twelve long years.
She doesn't even notice her own flinch at the sound of her surname, but she prays it was quick enough that her members missed it.
YN decidedly nods before guiding them towards Mercedes’ F1 cars for this season, signaling the official start of her special tour. "In front of you is the W16—"
She goes to describe the car in great, easily digestible detail, in a mix of Korean and English. She continues to do the same even as she continues on with tour and guides them deeper into the Mercedes garage, often also relating things to what her members understand best. She doesn’t shy away from their—nor George’s—technical questions, either, and actually relishes them.
"Over here are the offices for the team engineers," she gestures to the closed doors around them. "We have race engineers—걔네들은 완전 지훈이랑 범주 같아! 그리고 순영오빠! They make sure all the parts are working properly, and the 최종 제품 is 무대에 오를 준비가 되었는지 확인해." ["We have race engineers—they’re like Jihoon and Bumzu! And Soonyoung! They make sure all the parts are working together properly, and the final product is ready for the stage."]
"The performance engineers are," she pauses to think of a new analogy, but comes up short, "also like 지훈오빠 and 범주오빠. They’re like songwriters—all the data를 보고 driver한테 차를 최대한 잘 쓸 수 있게 얘기해주는 거지." ["The performance engineers are also like Jihoon and Bumzu. They’re like songwriters—they look at all the data and tell the driver how to get the most out of the car."]
YN’s pride bubbles up from her stomach. The utter fascination in her members’ faces is the exact reason why she denied the tour guide Mercedes offered them. Their guide had to be her—not because she spoke Korean, but because she’s one of them.
Besides, she has been waiting to introduce them to the world she grew up in beyond the limitations of a television screen and a yearly subscription. They have immersed her into the contrivances that led them to her throughout their ten years together, and today’s simply her turn. Never mind that she discovered herself nonexistent in what she had considered her home.
"You should say your name, too, YN," Jihoon—the member who has constantly seen her post-11 AM self under neon lights for the past twelve years—pipes up, voice clear despite being in a language he’s not confident in. "You’re our engineer, too."
Heat rises up from the back of her neck to the tip of her ears. She may be used to receiving compliments in her idol life, but one from her members always weighs more than others. Especially one from Jihoon, whose affections rarely escape outside the form of a song.
"Yeah, Producer NIGHTINGALE," Joshua chimes in with a grin.
YN lets out a soundless, slightly embarrassed laugh. Her members have absolutely no idea how much their words mean to her right now, while she’s surrounded by a world that didn’t love her back.
"You flatter me," she playfully waves away their indirect compliments before flashing them a bright smile. "고마워요, but let’s go back to the tour." ["Thank you, but let’s go back to the tour."]
However, before she can continue with her descriptions of the different engineers in the team, one of the doors behind her opens. Her idol manners immediately kicks in, and she turns to greet whoever it is. "Hello!"
It’s Peter Bonnington, the very man she looked over telemetry and data with more than a decade ago. "Oh, hello! I’ve never seen you around here before."
She smiles through the pang that she felt in her chest. "Oh, no, no. I’m not from here." She quickly gestures to the group behind her, unwilling to have the mistaken belonging on her shoulders for longer than necessary. "I’m with them."
"Hello!" She hears her members greet in not-so-perfect unison. She doesn’t need to turn around to know most of them smiled politely.
Bono greets them back, returning the polite gesture. He turns his attention back to her, eyebrows slightly scrunched. "But you’re leading a tour?"
The lie spills out too easily, her voice laced with the conversational professionalism she mastered in the ten years. "My father used to work here, so I remember my way around." But, then again, is it really a lie if the father she met today isn’t the same one that drove her to the airport twelve years ago? "I just wanted to give my members a more personalized tour."
She doesn’t miss how he tried to catch a glimpse of her pass, presumably to get her name. Unfortunately for him, she intentionally wore it the wrong way around. "You must’ve been in here a lot."
She opts to give a non-answer, starting with a half-hearted chuckle. "We’ll try to keep it down, Mr. Bonnington."
YN knows she can just introduce herself. Yet, she has concluded it inappropriate. Not because she’ll be using her birth surname to validate her return, but more so because she has obviously been removed in this world for a reason. She may not know why, but she wants to try and respect that—regardless of it hurting like she has been ran over by an F1 car on a straight.
"Right, well," he takes one hesitant step away without taking his eyes off of her. She tenses under his analytical stare. "I’ll leave you kids to it, then."
She only relaxes once Bono disappears in a corner, full attention returning to the crowd curiously looking at her. For a second there, she was frightened by the thought of being recognized. "You probably recognize his 목소리. That was—" ["You probably recognize his voice. That was—"]
The Mercedes tour continues without any more surprise interruptions. Eventually, she finally leads them to a hidden corner of the garage. Its door is unassuming, perfectly blended with the surrounding walls. There’s also a trick to opening it—something that only a few people back then knew how to do.
And, by the looks of it, that still holds true to this day.
The room looks almost exactly like how she last saw it, with a singular tire at the bottom of the tire rack and a cushioned nook seat. There’s no sprinkle of dust.
"여기서 낮잠 잤었어요," ["I used to take a nap here,"] she says, her voice thick with emotion, looking at the cushioned nook. A familiar, sharp ache blooms in her chest. "Pledis 합격 통보 받았을 때, 여기 있었어." ["I was here when I received the acceptance from Pledis."]
She catches Seungcheol share a look with Junhui, and she takes it as a sign to disperse them and let them explore the room. There’s admittedly not a lot going on in the room, with it being the most uninteresting part of the garage, but—it means something to her, and she knows her brothers can appreciate that.
George slides next to her the second they disperse. For a moment, neither of them says anything. The quiet of the room weighs between them, a stark contrast to the distant rumble of the garage.
"How did you know about this place?" He asks, his voice a low, awed murmur that barely breaks the silence.
YN keeps her eyes trailed on her members, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. She doesn't look at him, but she can feel the weight of his stare. "I used to be here a lot," she replies, her voice softer now, echoing Bono's words like a ghost.
At her peripherals, she sees him turn fully to look at her. The expression on his face is a raw, unguarded look of awed confusion. It’s a look she doesn’t understand, as if her simple answer has shaken his entire perception of this place.
"I didn’t even know about this place," He says, the disbelief in his tone palpable. "And I’ve been here for years."
She finally turns to him, a hint of her old self-assurance returning in a wry smile. She shrugs, pushing back a comment about him being a terrible spy. "Now you know."
You’re a good actor, but not quite as good as me.
She walks away to join her members, the wall between them back in place.
YN almost makes it through. She just has to guide her members and George back to the front of the Mercedes garage, and give her closing remarks. She just has to fall back to her place next to her members before they address the crew for a general thank you—for their hard work, for letting them momentarily invade. She just has to do those three things.
But she doesn’t make it.
Because she made the critical error of freezing as soon as she spots the model car for the W04, Mercedes’ F1 car for the 2013 season. It's the very same model car she last saw in person, the very same one she had asked her father if she could put in the display.
It might’ve been a split-second freeze, but a split-second is enough for them who understand each other beyond words.
The corners of YN’s eyes start to burn.
"Ow!" She hears Seungkwan somewhere behind her, effectively snapping out of her trace. She’s next to him within a blink, as are the rest of their group. "I— I think . . . Too much coffee . . ."
Her personal sorrow is immediately forgotten, having been replaced with worry for a younger brother. "어디가 아파?" ["Where does it hurt?"]
She mentally goes through the paddock blueprint in her head. She needs to calculate the quickest way to the medical center. Perhaps if they—
"아이구!" ["Ugh!"] Seungkwan almost doubles over, but is saved by Wonwoo who steadies him.
"잠깐만, 승관아," ["Hold on, Seungkwan,"] Seungcheol’s leader tone is tainted with concern. "YN—"
She doesn’t wait for him to finish. "어디로 가야 할지 알아." ["I know where to go."]
"알았어—" ["Alright—"] Wonwoo takes that as his cue to lead Seungkwan out the door, with Seokmin hovering on the other side in case he needs extra support. YN follows, with Mingyu’s hand on the small of her back.
"It was wonderful meeting you, George!" Vernon calls over his shoulder. She’s glad her brother did that courtesy for her, because she certainly doesn’t feel like extending it to her father’s proxy herself.
She doesn’t look back as she guides Mingyu’s hand to hold hers instead.
SEVENTEEN doesn’t relax their protective wall around Seungkwan until they’re halfway to the Mercedes motorhome. Despite their extreme proximity barely giving them enough room to walk, their formation—unconsciously formed as it may be—never breaks.
That is, until YN tries to take a turn to the medical center . . . just for Mingyu to tug her back.
"이쪽으로 돌자," ["Let’s turn this way,"] she instructs, lightly gesturing with her head.
Her eyebrows immediately touch when her same-age brother merely lets go of her hand to put an arm around her shoulders. "아니." ["No."]
"근데 승관이—" ["But Seungkwan—"]
"—는 연기를 너무 못 해!" ["—Is terrible at acting!"] Junhui completes her sentence from the back. He sounds incredibly offended, somehow.
YN suddenly stops in her tracks, causing those behind her to stumble on their feet. No one falls, thankfully. "뭐라고?" ["What?"] Her disbelieving eyes search their faces.
Seungcheol intercepts before she can say everything else that’s on the tip of her tongue. "먼저 들어가자." ["Let’s go in first."]
She knows better than to argue with her leader.
Once Joshua finally closes the door to their assigned guest room inside the Mercedes’ motorhome, YN wastes no time. She finds Seungkwan, her gaze still edged with concern amidst her confusion. "승관아, 괜찮아?" ["Seungkwan, are you okay?"]
Seungkwan gives her a thumbs up, his smile a little sheepish. "나 괜찮아, 누나." ["I’m okay, YN."]
"그랬으면 왜—" ["Then why did you—"] She halts, thoughts racing. She thinks back to the garage, to the exact moment she heard her younger brother shout in agony— "Oh."
"‘Oh,’ indeed," Vernon echoes with a short nod.
It’s not the first time one of them feigned an illness to get out of a situation. They’re not exactly proud of it, nor the number of times they’ve resorted to it, but some situations are just too difficult to escape using different methods. Truthfully, they continue to be amazed that they’re still finding new kinds of situations they desperately need to get out of.
Had she been in the right state mind, she would’ve effortlessly seen through the act. She would’ve remembered that such dramatics are reserved for what they codenamed as ‘last resort.’ But, alas.
Her relief manifests in an audible breath. "우리 차 빌려야 할 줄 알았어." ["I thought we’d have to borrow a car."] Unfortunately, that relief also comes with weakened knees and opened tear ducts. "괜찮아서 정말 다행이에요." ["I’m really glad you’re okay."]
There’s already a crowd around her before a tear even escapes. YN’s cries intensified the more seconds passed—starting with a mere silent waterfall on her cheeks, to a loud, sobbing mess. She clings to the closest member—Joshua, judging by his perfume and built—and buries her face.
"미안해." ["I’m sorry."] She apologizes hoarsely, voice breaking with every syllable, overwhelmed with emotion. "I ruined—" her words slips in English, suddenly too emotional to translate them into Korean— "I can’t—"
As always, her brothers understand before she even expresses herself correctly. "괜찮아, YN아, 영어로 말해도 돼. 우리가 이해하려고 노력할게." ["It’s okay, YN, you can talk in English. We’ll try to understand."]
And, right now, that’s all YN needs.
When the program Seventeen TV welcomed its sole female trainee during its third season, her brothers gained a sister who would one day teach them the quiet tragedy of a man’s loss.
She joined them with no Korean they could understand, but they understood her heart all the same. They saw the fire they all had, burning bright and glowing hot. They understood that her passion wasn’t just a dream; it was a lifeline. It was a purpose that gave her strength, a drive that gave her a future, and a dedication that gave her a new life.
Her words might’ve been foreign and broken, but her actions bared her heart—and that was enough.
She was their sister, their YN, from there on out.
YN introduced them to the fast and furious world of Formula One. With table napkins and nearly ink-less pens, she drew them into the horrifying wonders of high-speed corners and the bewildering ballet of strategy. Soon, she hooked them with the blurred colors of dangerous speed, and before they knew it, they were eleven teams and a thousand questions deep. Practices didn’t just end with replays of their final take; they ended with replays of races they were too busy to watch on time. Their performances weren't just powered by sheer energy and passion, but by the lingering thrill of high-speed chases and team rivalries as well. Formula One gave them a drive on nights when all else failed.
While YN introduced them to the vast and open ocean of Formula One, her personal life remained a quiet island they could not reach. The only map they had was an ‘all about me’ worksheet meant for grade schoolers, a single page full of conversation starters that never did.
They learned every detail of her talents, from the formal lessons that taught her piano, guitar, and violin to the raw, self-taught passion behind her every dance. They knew her favorite pieces to play and which choreography was her favorite to perform. They had heard her offer elaborate explanations for her chosen lyrics and composers, yet they had never once heard her utter her father’s name. They knew the names of her favorite fictional characters, the titles of songs that made her cry, and which movie she had seen a thousand times, but they did not know the name of her favorite person in the world: her Papa.
Over time, the surface of her quiet island became charted territory, but the secrets beneath it remained a mystery. Her heart, once a closed off cove, began to open its shores only after their debut. The secrets she carried were not hidden behind grand, fortified walls, but would slowly surface with the rising tide of their trust.
For a long while, the word "Papa" only existed on the ‘all about me’ worksheet she had to fill out during their trainee days—right next to My favorite person is.
Then, there was the "My Papa would’ve liked this" after she had the taste of the Korean dish they made her try during their strictly timed breaks. Back then, it held no real weight, but they agreed it must’ve been a compliment, based on how she went for seconds.
Next was her nonchalant "I used to do this a lot with my Papa" as she expertly loosened lug nuts, her movements quick and precise, the afternoon one of their group vans suddenly needed a tire change on their way back from a television program. Their driver/manager then didn’t know how to do it himself, and she was already on it before he could call for assistance. She didn’t elaborate, even when she said the same thing on a separate morning when their van broke down on their way to a schedule, and she correctly identified the issue after taking a short good look under the hood.
Their curiosity almost overflowed that day, with their own knowledge of cars limited. Thanks to Wonwoo’s cheers ("우리 YN이 가는 것 좀 봐!" ["Look at our YN go!"]), they were able to start building sandcastles on her island’s shore. For her equally nonchalant "별거 아니에요" ["It’s not a big deal"] told them everything they needed then.
The sandcastles of their assumptions were built from those nonchalant, unelaborated statements. The best they could do, given the very limited information, was assume that YN was very close with her father and that he had probably passed before she moved to Seoul. It made sense, consistent with her unwillingness to share anything else. They didn’t want to push through her tides, with the uncertainty of death, so they just let the waves take them adrift.
However, that sandcastle was ransacked by a powerful wave almost a year into their debut. They had just gotten their first music show win for "Pretty U" in Show Champion. Their emotions were high—they had cried on stage, on camera. They were on calls with their parents almost as soon as they were able. Even Joshua’s mother in Los Angeles and Minghao’s parents in Anshan celebrated with them through a video call. Thirteen calls, fourteen members—and YN just shrugged off their expectant looks with, "My Papa hasn’t attended any of my music-related activities since I was ten years old," before asking them if they were up for watching the replay of the F1 race last weekend to celebrate.
Mercedes got a 1-2 in that race, with Nico Rosberg ahead of Lewis Hamilton. They only remember that factoid because YN’s reaction to the win mirrored her reaction to their own. (That, and because Jihoon broke off of the Red Bull Alliance™ with Seungcheol to pledge his loyalty to Mercedes.)
It was difficult to warp their heads around the new information they heard about her Papa. How could he and YN be so close, but he stopped attending something important to her a whole five years before she became a trainee? Is he really dead like they’ve been assuming?
The half-formed new sandcastle crumbled when Chan innocently asked, awestruck, "Mercedes가 네 Papa 팀이야?" ["Is Mercedes your Papa’s team?"]
". . . 네." [". . . Yes."]
It didn’t disprove the strengthened ‘death’ theory, but it did give them a new angle to ponder. Suddenly, her western surname felt heavier than a mere coincidence. Suddenly, her choice to keep it hidden felt heavier than a mere plea for privacy. Suddenly, her body language whenever Mercedes’ Team Principal appeared on screen felt heavier than they ever noticed before.
Suddenly, the new sandcastle was a walled fortress caging a thought: What if YN Wolff is actually Toto Wolff’s daughter?
They collectively hated that thought. Because it’d mean something they couldn’t help her with; something that they couldn’t even begin to understand.
Time helped them to be fluent in silence with each other. Along with that silence came a quiet recognition of the pain and sadness that subtly manifested in YN’s every move, and a growing comfort in knowing their presence hopefully offered enough.
When their managing staff gathered them for a meeting about an offer from Formula One, they were equally ecstatic and skeptical. While it was an honor to be recognized by the very sport that played such a big part in their lives, they were also collectively concerned about how YN would take the offer.
"네 생각은 어때, YN아?" ["What do you think, YN?"] Joshua had innocently asked then, after he sharing a subtle look with the others within his line of sight without moving his head.
It was only appropriate. After all, she was the one who introduced them to the sport. It would be uncontestedly more important to her than it’d ever be for them. "내 생각에 . . . 우리 그 제안을 받아들이는 게 좋을 것 같아." ["I think . . . We should accept the offer."]
"정말 좋은 기회라고 생각해," ["It is a good opportunity,"] Minghao supported slowly, his voice almost dipping, Is that what you really want?
"우리 기념일에 좋을 것 같아." ["It’ll be great for our anniversary."] Yes.
They didn’t contest. They couldn’t. Their concern might’ve been a lingering whisper in their minds, but the sheer, unfamiliar light on her eyes was a resounding promise they had to keep. They supported the choice because it was hers to make.
The members' months were a blur of Caratland, a comeback, and a dozen other packed schedules. YN's anticipation, however, was a steady, quiet beacon they learned to read. They didn’t need her to mention the upcoming schedule; they were fluent in her subtle cues. They saw her joy in the ghost of a smile that seemed to etch itself at the corner of her mouth, in the extra spring in her steps, and in the way she needed less of her usual creative fuel to keep her focused during long nights in the studio.
Up until they saw her with George Russell by the entrance of the Mercedes garage, they had been convinced they made the right choice.
Then they saw her flinch at her own surname, caught her lying to her favorite driver's old race engineer, heard her voice break while talking about her Pledis audition, and witnessed her freeze in front of the car models. (Not to mention her forgetting about their years old ‘last resort’ and believing Seungkwan’s poor execution.)
They didn’t have time to confer, but their shared conclusion was immediate. The team YN loves with her whole heart—Mercedes—is the heart of her pain.
And now, YN’s crying in Joshua’s arms like she hasn’t cried for twelve years.
It’s supposed to be an inside joke between them and CARATs that she has thirteen useless brothers, but in this moment, those words have never felt truer.
The feeling of helplessness is brief, however, because the group’s response is a swift and practiced choreography. Only Minghao and Seungkwan remain, a quiet barrier against the rest of the world as YN leans into Joshua. The others splitup, each with an unspoken purpose: Junhui, Seokmin, and Mingyu go to find something for her to eat; Jihoon and Vernon, in a bittersweet effort to bring her comfort, go to get the Red Bull she drinks like water; and Soonyoung and Chan go to fetch her actual water.
This leaves Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo to do what they do best. This is a crisis, and it is time to strategize.
"우리 여기 오지 말았어야 했어." ["We shouldn’t have come here."] Wonwoo’s observation perfectly encapsulates the unspoken consensus. His voice is a soft whisper, yet firmly absolute.
Jeonghan, who hasn’t found the strength to look away from YN’s shaking form, rebuts with a fact they’ve forgotten as soon as her tears started flowing. "근데 걔 너무 기대했었어." ["But she was so excited to go."] His voice, too, is heavy with the same sadness as the younger one. "걔가 하고 싶었던 거야." ["It’s what she wanted."]
Seungcheol’s shoulders are heavy with self-inflicted blame. As their general leader, and her unit leader, he feels the full weight of their decision. "그리고 우리 더 잘 알았어야 했어. 우리 그랬어야 했는데 . . ." ["And we should’ve known better. We should’ve . . ."]
"아니." ["No."] Wonwoo doesn’t let the eldest continue. He acts as a voice of reason, leaving little room for argument. "그럴 수 없었어. 그때는 그냥 추측뿐이었잖아." ["We couldn’t have. All we had then were assumptions."]
Seungcheol shakes his head, his face an indescribable mix of frustration and sorrow. "봐, 결국 이렇게 됐잖아. 우리 YN만 더 힘들어졌어. 지금 너무 슬퍼하고 있어. ["Yeah, and look where they landed us. Our YN’s worse off. She’s mourning."]
The word mourning hangs in the air, a vacuum of silence. Across the room, Seungkwan and Minghao halt their efforts to soothe YN, their hands freezing in mid-air. They both look at Seungcheol, but say nothing; they, as Jeonghan and Wonwoo, know he’s right.
This isn’t the first time they’ve witnessed YN cry, but it is the first time they have heard her wail—a raw, gut-wrenching sound that tore from her very soul. It was a grief so complete, so all-consuming, that mourning was the only word that could describe it.
No one can blame the other seven who thought of ways to leave the room in a fragile hope of alleviating her sorrow.
"그녀가 여기까지 온 데에는 이유가 있었어요." ["There was a reason she came here."] Jeonghan is the first to break the latest wave of silence. His eyes, still fixed on YN, are glossy—not with tears, but with memories the rest can’t see. He swallows, a quiet effort, before adding, "어 . . . 뭔지는 모르겠는데, 걔는 여기에 와야 했어." ["I . . . I don’t know what it is, but she needed to be here."]
YN’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot by the time half of SEVENTEEN comes back with the physical offerings of their fragile hope.
On the floor of their borrowed room, a modest feast is laid out just for her. There are apparently no foldable tables in the Mercedes motorhome, and she refuses to move from her post-cry state.
She sniffles into her newly cooked ramyeon, the steam a poor comfort against the remnants of her heartbreak. With the blanket pulled tight around her shoulders, she looks feverishly sick, a poster-child for a pain that has nothing to do with a fever.
On any other day, this scene would have been material for a photo, a joke, a birthday post. But her current state was too far from amusing, her stillness too heavy with what she carried.
This isn’t stress, and it isn’t something a few days off can fix.
She has lost a love, and she needs to mourn it.
They cannot fix a loss so fundamentally irreversible, but they can be her home while she navigates it—no matter how long it takes.
YN chews the ramyeon with a faraway look in her eyes, her movements mimicking a machine running on autopilot low on oil. Her voice, light and hoarse, ripples through the weighted silence. "He erased me."
The acceptance in her voice is jarring, as if she has finally surrendered to a fight she had been fighting alone for years. Her resignation needs no translation.
There is no question in their minds who she’s talking about. After all, after the thirteen of them, there is only one "he" they associated with her. Her Papa.
Her Papa who has enough power and influence to never lose touch—and chose to erase her instead.
All twelve members look at Seungcheol, a wordless understanding passing through their gazes. His blink serves as a discreet nod. "갈래?" ["Do you want to leave?"]
YN’s mechanical movements abruptly shudder to a stop. She doesn't flinch, but her gaze, which had been lost in some distant, private world, snaps back to focus on Seungcheol. The gears in her mind slowly begin to turn, and her response, when it comes, is not quick. "못 가—" ["We can’t—"]
Seungcheol breaks out of the loose circle they’ve unconsciously formed around her to squat directly in front of her. "회사 걱정 마. 내가 알아서 할게." ["Don’t worry about the company. I’ll handle them."] He gently takes the ramyeon from her hands, his eyes holding hers with a fierce, unwavering resolve. "네가 이렇게까지 힘들어하는 곳에 더 이상 두지 않을게." ["We aren’t going to let you stay in a place that causes you this much pain."]
