summary: "you're ours," he breathed, desperate, honest, "and we're yours. Whatever you say, whatever you decide, we'll always be yours." you got a job as a new caretaker and the boys are pretty sure you are their mate.
a/n: this isn't quite a 'traditional' hybrid fic I guess but I really enjoyed writing it! I'm looking forward to finishing the other parts!
You smoothed a hand down the front of your blazer, checking for any unwanted creases or specks of dust. It was, as you had planned it to be, flawless. As a hybrid caretaker, you knew that your cilents were often particular about colours, fabrics, cleanliness, and you strived to have a positive first impression.
It wasn’t your first time on the job - you’d been working as a caretaker since you left university - but it was the first time you had been placed with an established pack.
As you drove, you mentally walked through the information package that had been given to you. There were eight of them, a mixture of predator and prey, all having worked with each other for the last eight or so years as part of an idol group. They had been under the care of one person before you, a well established caretaker, but he had taken early retirement and so the entertainment company had searched for a replacement. One that you hoped would be you.
No reason to be nervous, you reasoned with yourself. You were damn good at your job, your commendations were proof of that.
You had been told that HR, the group’s manager and the leader of the group - Hongjoong, red panda - had personally selected the shortlisted candidates. They must have thought well of you.
Still, you checked your outfit for the second time, shifted at your wrists to ensure your scent wasn’t overpowering and reapplied a scentless lipgloss before you climbed from your vehicle and approached the main door.
The receptionist smoothly took your name, handed over your guest page and gave directions to the third floor meeting room.
It was already busy when you arrived. You could see another candidate through the slip of glass in the soundproofed room. You sat on the awaiting chairs and tried not to squirm too much.
When the door opened, one person left and a lady with a sweet face and hair slicked back leaned out to call your name.
“I’m Jihoo, from the human resources department,” she introduced herself with a bow. “I hope the journey wasn’t too bad.”
You were quick to stand, bowing even lower, as you said, “It’s nice to meet you Jihoo-sshi.”
“Please, come on in,” she ushered you into the room.
It was larger than expected, with a wide table in the centre. There was an open chair on one side for you and on the other, two faces looked back at you. One was older, wrinkles appearing around his eyes when he smiled, standing up and offering his hand to shake. “I’m Kyunghim, manager of ATEEZ.”
The other - younger, careful points to his features, amber eyes watching intensely - was clearly the group leader you had been told about. For prey hybrid, Hongjoong held himself with the confidence of a predator, shoulders broad, gaze steady.
As you had been trained, you angled your head, baring your neck, as you bowed. It was supposed to put a hybrid’s instincts at ease, a subtle form of submission.
Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow at you. He gave his name with a curl of his tongue. “Thank you for taking the time to meet us,” he murmured.
His voice was calming, each word purposeful. You understood why, despite the stereotypes of his breed, he was the leader.
“Let’s start with the formalities,” Jihoo settled herself back into your seat and shuffled her documents around. “Explain how you ended up with the job of caretaker.”
Your answer was well rehearsed. Your uncle was a caretaker, his wife and your cousins were all hybrids. You wanted to help make a difference and so you went to university to study hybrid care. You’d passed with honours and started your career, previously working with young hybrids, who were struggling with the mix of animal instincts and human hormones. Now, you wanted to try something new.
When asked, you spoke through your accreditation and specific cases where you had to deal with a stressful situation.
Hongjoong didn’t speak again until the end. “Can I get your scent?”
You agreed immediately, offering out your wrist. His fingers were long and warm as they wrapped around the smallest part of your wrist, and lowered his head carefully. You felt the press of his breath against your sensitive skin and tried not to shiver.
Scent was important for all hybrids you knew; regardless of your skills or abilities, if your scent was off putting to them, there would be no continuing forward. You’d done this a million times before and yet, the touch of this man made your heartbeat uptick. You shuddered a breath through your pursed lips, tried to hold your composure.
You weren’t going to lose your cool just because of a handsome hybrid, you refused.
When you were released, your skin felt cold. Hongjoong flickered his intense gaze up to your face, expression unreadable. You angled your head but kept eye contact.
He looked away first, lips twitching at the corner. You hoped that meant approval.
Hongjoong didn’t make a comment about your scent in front of you, folded his arms over his chest and conceded control of the conversation back to his companions.
Jihoo smiled widely at you. “Thank you so much, you’ll hear from us soon.”
Even when you left, you thought you felt Hongjoong’s gaze following you out, watching each step you took.
There was nothing you could do now, you told yourself firmly, just a waiting game.
You didn’t know yet but you wouldn’t have to wait long.
-
Lemons and cherry.
That’s what you smelt like.
It stuck in Hongjoong’s nose long after you had left, settled into his body and made him lightheaded. Just a small inhale and it was like you had invaded his senses. It took all of his control to hold himself back from pressing himself closer, from putting the tip of his tongue to your pulse to taste you.
When Jihoo turned to him excitedly and Kyunghim arched an eyebrow curiously, Hongjoong had spoken with a nonchalant edge that belied the way his heart was beating in his ears.
There were only a few times a person had smelt as addicting as you did. Seven times in fact. He’d pulled each of his members close, forming a pack of his own, and he was content with that.
Until now. Until your sweetness had overwhelmed his senses.
Until his animal instincts whined and wanted to roll over for you, bare his belly for your approval.
Mate. Mine. Ours.
His panda had heart eyes.
“I like her,” Hongjoong had said. “The others will too.”
He didn’t let on that there would be no other choice, no other candidate considered.
It was you, could only be you.
When Jihoo and Kyunghim agreed easily, Hongjoong tried not to preen in pleasure. It would take time, he knew, HR and job on boarding processes. KQ had training for those working with hybrids in the industry, specifically covering the expectations between nature and the entertainment industry.
But soon, he would see you again.
You’d be in his home, with his pack, your scent mixing with theirs.
Ours.
Hongjoong put his hand to his face, searching for any lingering remnants of your scent on his fingertips.
He couldn’t wait.
-
When you got the call, it took everything not to squeal into the phone. The familiar voice of Jihoo had been warm, excited in her congratulations for joining the team. It began a whirlwind of meetings to sign contracts and NDAs, a series of hybrid specific trainings and conversations with the department head, Ryujin, about expectations within the industry, how to avoid scandals.
There was so much information that it made your head spin but you absorbed all the information, enmeshed yourself in each class with a greedy eagerness. The two week intensive training ended with Ryujin offering all newbies a broad smile and announcing your success.
Which led you to this moment, standing outside a pretty standard looking apartment block in Mapo-gu, nervous curling in your stomach. The agenda for the day was on your phone screen, each part of your day segmented and labelled, designated down to the very minute. Such is the life of an idol, and now it was the life of you.
Your first order of the day, the official meeting between yourself and the rest of the ATEEZ members. Your calendar had a solid hour blocked for initial meetings before you were all swept off into a show recording.
Don’t let them be late, Kyunghim had warned in his email to you.
You refused to make a mistake on your first day.
So you rung up to the specified apartment a minute before 9am, your first foot crossing the threshold right on time.
It wasn’t the first time you had entered a hybrid home. With previous clients, you had been into family home, supported care homes, crowded hybrid homes for young orphans. It was your first time entering a pack home just as this - adult, prey and predator, private in a way that only a handful of people could actually know where they live. It was a privilege to be invited into such a space.
Hongjoong was the one who opened the door, familiar eyes flickering over you in consideration before offering you a soft smile, the one that made his eyes crease at the edges. He said your name with a layer of delight that made your heart pound.
“I’m glad you took the job,” he said.
You couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for your approval,” you commented, “I know nothing would have happened without your say so.”
He hummed in agreement. “Let’s say, you made an impression.”
The word was loaded, heavy with unspoken meaning. The tips of your ears burned.
Hongjoong opened the door wider and gestured with his hand inward. “Come on in,” he said, “the others are excited to meet you.”
-
Yeosang couldn’t say he particularly enjoyed change. It was uncomfortable, disconcerting at times, and ultimately set his instincts on edge.
When Doyoung had told them he was retiring to spend more time with family, Yeosang had understood. The life of an idol’s caretaker was busy, intense and wildly antisocial at times. There were so many days where they were traveling from dawn to dusk, barely able to take a phone call for anything of a personal nature. It was hard, isolating, and he had wished Doyoung a tearful farewell.
But then came the hunt for a new caretaker. Each profile had been presented to them all. It was important that they all came to an agreement, but in their situation, it was high-on impossible. Each member found a reason to reject one profile or another, even down to as petty as the shape of their jaw (that was from San, who stubbornly refused to explain further).
Eventually, Kyunghim had to step in and demand a shortlist be made.
Yeosang remembered your profile vaguely - your credentials were good, you had a lot of experience, your personal statement had been honest and sweet, if a bit on the wistful side of things. He remembered your smile more, the way it seemed to brighten your face like sunshine.
It was the same in person, he mused, now that he was standing in front of you. You had toed off your shoes in the entryway, let Hongjoong take your coat to hang up before walking on tights clad feet towards the main living space. Hongjoong had told them to wait there, a firm look at Wooyoung who was bouncing off the walls in his excitement to meet this new caretaker that apparently smelt so nice.
Lemon and cherries.
It had just been faint when Hongjoong came back, a distant look in his eyes as he murmured that you had smelt so good. Better than good. Perfect. Like a part of them.
Yunho had perked up at the idea, amazed that there was someone else out there who had ensnared their leader. Jongho had blinked sleepily - winter months meant he was tired more often, his bear side seeking any time it could to hibernate - and rasped, “Are you sure?”
It was strong now. Yeosang was searching for it - they all were - and it wafted on the air, beckoning him closer for a better scent. It settled in his chest when you bowed low and murmured how happy you were to meet them all.
His heart thudded. His mouth felt dry. His eyes were wide.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
The deer within him spoke tentatively, unsure but hopeful.
When it was his time to be introduced, Yeosang bowed low, the pink hue of his cheeks hidden by the flop of his hair.
“I look forward to working with you,” you beamed at each of them in turn.
“Can I scent you?” Seonghwa bounced on the back of his heels, excitement meaning he was unable to be still. His nose twitched in anticipation.
It shouldn’t have made Yeosang want to croon when you had offered your wrist so willing, so pliant in your consent. Seonghwa nearly dropped to his knees in his eagerness, pressing his chin into the soft curve of your hand, his eyes closed. If he was stable enough, Yeosang was sure he would have thumped his foot in pleasure. Instead, he tittered, and ran his nose over where the smell was the strongest.
Yeosang watched your face go from pink to red, lips parting in surprise.
It only got worse when Yunho gave into his excitement, announcing “you’re hogging her hyung” and pushing Seonghwa out of the way. Yunho wasted no time pressing your wrist under his nose, eyes wide and mouth open.
“Oh,” he said before his eyes fluttered, momentarily lost.
“I, um, I’m glad you like my scent?” you stammered, smiles wavering with uncertainty. Yeosang wanted to reach out and smooth it away, but any words were caught in his throat.
“My turn!” Wooyoung announced, stalking forward and, in true feline fashion, overstepped any kind of decorum to press his face against the soft juncture of your neck.
Yeosang didn’t know whether to be scandalised or immensely jealous.
Hongjoong snapped a warning and Mingi pulled him off, dropping the cat firmly under his arm and holding him there.
San was apologising and making you promise you wouldn’t leave, worry obvious across his face. Hongjoong was shooting daggers at a very smug looking Wooyoung, whose eyes were more blown.
You stumbled over your words as you tried to reassure the panicking ragdoll. Yeosang watched as you shoved your sleeves down over your wrists and asked whether they all knew what the schedule was for the day.
“Kyunghim-sshi said he’d meet us there,” you told them all.
Jealous, Yeosang decided, when Wooyoung tugged his collar over his face, catching the sweet scent in the folds of his clothes and holding it there. Definitely jealous.
-
Your skin still tingled from the touches, fingers pressing invisible bruises that felt like they’d take an age to heal. Scenting hadn’t ever felt like that before - overwhelming, warming, something that set your skin on edge.
At the beginning, it had been hard, this very animalistic approach to greetings but time had helped you get to use to it. Before, scenting would have meant nothing.
You couldn’t dwell on why it was different this time, both for your own sanity but also because the day unfolded before you had kept you busy.
Part of your job was to ensure the comfort of each hybrid in line with their needs. There was no universal, one size fits all hybrid plan. You had the basics from training years and some key points highlighted in each members notes.
You checked in with each hybrid, each one taking turns from costume to hair to make up. You made sure that the brushes were the right kind for Mingi’s skin and the hair spray was unscented for San. You checked that Jongho had a nest to nap in during downtimes and that the outfit for prepared for Yeosang had the labels taken out to avoid discomfort.
You helped adjust the mic around Yunho’s ears and made sure the bottle of water had cooled enough before giving it to Hongjoong.
You checked the make sure that catering had including carrot sticks and celery for Seonghwa and beef kimbab for Wooyoung.
By the time, they’d stepped onto the stage to the cheers of the live audience, you were flustered, flushed and oh so happy.
This was the job she loved so, as hectic and busy as it was. Watching them through the cameras backstage, knowing you had supported to get them there even a little bit, filled you with pride.
ATEEZ, as always, were as charming as they had been in any interview. You’d done your research of course once you accepted the job. You knew that San and Yunho were charming, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa were calmer, supporting each other to keep control of the situation. Mingi laughed with his members and spoke insightfully when asked. Yeosang and Jongho were quieter but threw themselves into every challenge, every joke, presented to them. And Wooyoung -
Your heart fluttered. You swallowed around a dry throat.
Wooyoung was suitably entrancing, his laugh contagious and his smile wicked. He knew who he was and he, seemly, was unashamedly himself. You respected him for it as much as it made you feel weak at the knees.
You could still feel him against you - nose against the curve of face and neck, and lips parting dangerously. It gave you goosebumps.
He was an attractive man, there was no dying that, but he was your client. Someone you had to work closely with. And, you reasoned with yourself, you doubt it actually meant what it could have meant.
Hongjoong had spoken to you in the car, a mixture of apologies and irritation.
“It’s just how he is sometimes, especially around new people,” he explained, “he doesn’t mean any harm by it. If you tell him to stop, he will stop.”
You had of course emphasised it was no big deal. “I was just surprised,” you murmured, “I’ve never been scented like that before.”
“It’s usually not something you’d do on a first meeting,” Hongjoong replied.
“Unless you’re Wooyoung.”
“Unless you’re Woo.”
But in all honesty, it was a big deal. A big deal in that, the irrational unprofessional part of you, wanted it to happen again. To feel the closeness, the softness of the touch on such a sensitive place.
The rational part of you was confident that was a terrible idea. So you squashed the thought and did your job, never allowing your mind to stray further.
When the boys clambered back down into the green room, slightly sweaty from the set lights and grinning widely from a job well done, you had to work to actively suppress the question.
Professional.
You offered towels to dab their faces; checked the right make up remover went to the right hybrid and handed them their coffee orders (collected by one of the PAs from the show).
When Wooyoung’s fingers brushed yours - purposefully, with intention - you tried not to make it noticeable that your stomach was doing somersaults or your cheeks were red.
Professional, you repeated to yourself firmly. Don’t screw this up.
-
Wooyoung was a lot of things - loyal, affectionate, understanding just as much as he was impatient, stubborn and impulsive. Still, he wasn’t an arsehole. He knew when he’d push it too far with another person without the nagging of Hongjoong or the nervous chatter of Yeosang.
Scenting you there was always going to be intimidate for a hybrid or a human. He’d known that. The neck is where the claiming bite went, it’s where someone’s scent is the strongest and where they are the most vulnerable.
In truth, he hasn’t really thought too far into the repercussions. Linear thinking is what Seonghwa-hyung called it once and Wooyoung was inclined to agree.
When Hongjoong had said that you smelt like you belonged to them, he trusted his leader immediately. No question about it. You were theirs and he couldn’t wait to meet you.
And then you were in front of him, soft in winter blues and greys, a smile that he felt blessed to have received. He could smell you, however faintly, and it embedded itself deep inside. He had an instinctive desire to follow it and pounce like it were prey.
Seonghwa and Yunho had grasped at your wrist and fell into it. You had blushed so prettily for them and Wooyoung just wanted you to look like that because of him.
You had a particularly pretty neck, he would admit, dotted with freckles he wanted to kiss. But your scent there? It was like a drug. The way his head had grown heavy should be studied.
Of course, he’d felt like that before but with other hybrids, ones who knew and understood. The others had bared their necks eagerly for him just as he had for them.
You were human though, not hybrid.
It hadn’t fully clicked exactly why his pack were frustrated with him until your fingers brushed his around an iced americano. You went red, your breath stuttered and you avoided making eye contact. Your scent, so sweet, so enticing, increased and then twisted into something sour.
It made him feel sick, to think he had made you feel this way.
He didn’t get a chance to apologise until later, after the van had pulled up in front of their home. You’d bowed and smiled at each of them, wishing them a good night and complimenting on a job well done.
Wooyoung hunched his shoulders and resisted the urge to reach out to you. “Can we talk?” He murmured. His eyes flickered to this pack and back again. “Alone?”
You looked nervous, but agreed with a nod of your head. Hongjoong nailed him with a firm look of reminder and Seonghwa visibly twitched in that way that told he was worried.
Wooyoung didn’t look at them though, only you.
He waited until they were far enough away, the door to the apartment swinging shut behind Mingi.
Wooyoung bowed as low as he could, eyes averted. “I’m sorry.”
You let out a surprised gasped. Your hands fluttered but didn’t quite touch. “Wooyoung-sshi, you don’t have to - please stand up, I…”
“Not until you accepted my apology,” he said forcefully. “I crossed your boundaries. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
There were more words - begs, pleads for you to still care about him in a way that you couldn’t possibly understand yet - but he held them back. Human, he reminded himself firmly.
He heard you released a long sigh and your scent twinged with heat. Wooyoung’s heart leap - that was good right?
“Wooyoung, please, stand up,” you murmured, “I accept your apology.”
He chanced a look up at you through the curtain of his hair. God, even in the low light, you were so pretty. Your cheeks were still flushed but your eyes, they sparkled as they looked at him, followed him as he straightened back up to full height.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you started.
Wooyoung shook his head. “I did. You don’t have to pretend.”
You hesistated for a moment and then corrected, “Okay, just a little. I’d never been…scented before like that. Scenting at the neck is usually…not for first meetings right?”
“Right,” Wooyoung admitted.
You cocked your head to the side. “So then, why did you…?”
You fidgeted, slipping a straight of hair behind your ear. Wooyoung followed it with his eyes and oh so wanted to reach out, to smooth the strands of hair between his finger tips, to nudge his nose against your cheek. To make you smell like him and he like you.
But he couldn’t explain that to you. Not only was it not his place, not really - Hongjoong was the pack leader, he should be the one to explain the nuances of these dynamics - but also how could he? For you, you’d only met that day, merely strangers at this point.
How could he explain that intense feeling in this gut that told him that you were theirs? That Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to tug you into their home, into their den and surrounded you in their scent? To have your sweetness mixed with theirs until they were all indistinguishable from each other?
The panther in him craved it.
You blinked sweetly at him, confused, waiting for a response.
If you had any kind of reaction, it wasn’t like theirs. Hell, Wooyoung didn’t even know what this could feel like for a human or if they felt anything at all. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment.
“I was just excited to meet you,” he answered, a half truth, “I wanted you to like me.”
“I do like you,” you admitted softly and it made his panther purr.
Wooyoung offered a toothy smile. “I like you too,” he said. “I want you to feel safe around me.”
As close to a confession he could right now.
“Strangely, I do,” you murmured, “but next time you want to scent me like that, maybe give me some warning next time?”
Next time.
God, he really hoped there would be a next time.
Wooyoung hummed in agreement. “If I overstep, feel free to scruff me,” he told you.
You looked aghast. “I’m not going to scuff you. You’re not a kitten.”
He laughed. “Joongie would.”
“Pack leader duties I suppose,” you smiled back.
You both smiled at each other, dumb grins that stretched across your face. Wooyoung didn’t know how long they stood there but he would have for hours, just to look at you like this.
In the distance, a car honked and the spell was broken. You ducked your head and gestured towards the apartment. “You should go in,” you ordered, “it’s cold.”
Wooyoung reluctantly agreed. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”
And you beamed brighter than any artificial street light. “8am sharp. You can’t scare me off that easily.”
He hoped he never would. The scent of lemon hung in the air and he inhaled, held it within him to hold him over for the night. This would be enough for now, Wooyoung comforted himself, it would have to be.
𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗜𝓞 ──── in which your daughter disappears down a store aisle, nowhere to be found. that is, until she comes back to you with a handsome stranger holding her hand and a brand-new toy.
﹙ 1,079 ﹚ choi san x singlemom!fem!r | 𝑓𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧＆𝑐𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 + petnames strangers to (???) physical touch not proofread ﹗
─ emi is about 3 years old here.
𝓁ani speaks : not my best work but i’ve been struggling to write lately so i’m taking this as a win
she had been right there.
standing at your side, in the bread aisle, holding onto the fabric of your sweatpants as you picked up two loafs to put into your cart. she followed behind you closely as you pushed the cart when you left the aisle, traveling to get the next thing on your list.
but in an instant, she was gone. you were calling her name, asking her about snacks and what she would want for dinner.
“emi?”
there was no response. you had stopped pushing the cart, realizing you didn’t feel her tugging at your pants or hear her occasional giggles as she imagined all sorts of games and cartoon characters.
you turned to find nothing but a shelf of chocolate next to you, your daughter not in sight.
“emilia?” you called out, looking down one of the aisles. there was a lady who glanced at you and turned back to the item she was holding.
she couldn’t have gone far, you tried to convince yourself.
leaving the cart where it was, you jogged back to the bread aisle. and again, there was no sight of her.
“emi? baby?”
you ran to another aisle, searching everything up and down, checking behind the items that stood on the shelves.
no emi.
your heart’s pace began to pick up, faster than its normal rate. usually you’d put her in the cart but there were too many groceries this time, and you were not pulling that red wagon that she loved to sit in when you both went on walks.
you checked a few more aisles before eventually finding an employee, jogging up to her for some extra help.
“excuse me, um,” you stop in front of her, your chest heaving.
she looked at you, her eyes widening with concern. “yes?”
“i’m sorry— have you seen a little girl around here? pink sweatpants and a white tee shirt?”
she looked down the aisle she was stocking in. “no, i’m sorry. no one’s really been down this one.”
you drag your hands down your face, groaning. you thanked the young lady anyway, hoping to find someone else who could be of more help. but before you could walk away, she called out.
“i could ask around, if you’d like? maybe she’s looking for you,” she offered a tender smile, climbing down from the small step stool to stand by your side.
“that would be great, thank you.” you let out a shaky breath. together, you both roamed the aisles, calling out your daughter’s name—to which you received no response.
as the minutes passed, the more you walked up and down those aisles, your stomach sank. you couldn’t lose her, not your baby.
the employee eventually turned to you, after walking down the seventh aisle.
“would you like me to call the police?” her eyebrows were furrowed as she studied your anxious expression.
before you could even start to say yes, a small voice called out, nearly bringing tears to your eyes.
“mama!”
you turned around so quickly, you almost lost your balance.
there was emi, her face lighting up when she saw that it was you. she held something in her hand that was nearly as big as her, and a hand that you did not recognize.
your gaze shifted to the figure next to her, traveling up to reveal a man—an all too good-looking one—with sharp features but a gentle smile on his face. he held emi’s hand tightly, a protective grip that ensured she wouldn’t wander off again.
you caught yourself staring, quickly clearing your throat before greeting your daughter.
you crouched to her level, watching as she immediately let go of the man’s hand and he watched as she ran to you, his smile growing wide.
“mama!” she said again, dropping the box in her hand and wrapping her hands around your neck. you pulled her in for a tight embrace, your arms wrapping around her smaller frame.
“oh, thank goodness,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. you rubbed her back, staying there with her for a moment.
“where did you go?! i thought i lost you, i thought—“ you rambled.
emi pulled back to look at you, “i don’t know,”
“you don’t know?” you laughed shakily, your breathing still uneven.
she shook her head before hugging you again, tighter this time.
“i’m sorry,” she mumbled into your jacket. without saying anything, you kissed the side of her head, lifting her up in your arms.
your gaze landed back on the man, who still stood in front of you.
“i found her in the toy section,” he said softly, glancing at the box that sat on the ground. it was a new teacup set with little utensils inside, which emi didn’t need but that didn’t matter at the moment.
“um, i— thank you,” your lips formed a small smile, watching as he held out his hand. you took it, your palms sliding against each other’s as you gave his hand a firm shake.
“it’s no problem, i’m glad i could help,” his dimple deepened as he beamed, still holding your hand.
your face felt hot as the handsome stranger gazed back at you, a twinkle in his eye.
“uh, did you need help? with anything else?” he asked, his grip on your hand turning loose as he bent to pick up emi’s new toy.
“no, no,” you reassured him. “i…i think we got everything.”
he handed you the toy, as you readjusted emi in your arms.
“thank you, again. i really appreciate it.”
he nodded, saying that it was no problem. emi sat up in your arms, facing him.
“thank you, mr. san,” she spoke quietly, suddenly shy. he chuckled m, leaning in to give her head a small pat.
“of course, but stay close to mama, okay? she was really worried.” his tone softened when he spoke to emi, as if she was the most delicate thing ever.
emi nodded before wrapping her arms around you again, nuzzling into your neck.
you looked at san once more as he waved to you and emi, giving you one more smile before turning back down the aisle.
“how did you manage to find the most gorgeous person in the store?” you murmured more to yourself than to emi.
she yawned, her small hand patting at your back. “wan’ go home.”
you nodded, forgetting all about the cart that was filled with the items from your list.
rarely talks about his day, opting to ask about yours instead. he’s always been one to listen and support others, whether it be his members or you. however, when you ask him about his day out of the blue, his breath gets caught in his throat. all of a sudden, he’s a stuttering mess. he feels your hand slip into his, your thumb stroking the back of his hand, and he tells you about every aspect of his day: the little kid who said he wanted to be like him, how the new choreography hurt his bones so he must be getting old, and how he missed you all day. at the end of it, you’re the one who’s flustered, smiling at the thought of being on his mind all day.
— seonghwa.
can’t help but lean into your touch when you run your hands through his hair. “mm, keep doing that,” he tells you, closing his eyes with a gentle smile on his face. he’s laying his head in your lap, hiding his face in your stomach. and he’s lucky that you can’t see the blush on his cheeks as you comb your fingers through the soft strands. “what was that? you want me to stop?” slowly retracting your fingers, you hear a tsk. seonghwa laces his fingers around your wrist and brings it back to his head. and when you lean down to give his forehead a soft kiss, a grin breaks out on his face — all because of you.
— yunho.
feels so incredibly giddy when you laugh at his jokes. he melts at the sound of your laughter. to him, it sounds like everything beautiful in the world. and when you look up at him with the remnants of that glorious sound leaving your lips, he can’t hold himself back from placing his hand on your jaw, and slowly leaning down to kiss your lips. you’re both laughing into the kiss — the feeling of nothing but joy encased between you two — and he feels his heart burst in his chest.
— yeosang.
knows that he isn’t always the best at giving you affection. of course, he tells you he loves you every day, and does little things for you, but physical touch has never been his strongest point. so when you lean your head on his shoulder to get comfortable after a long and tiring day, yeosang looks at you with love in his eyes. to be this comfortable with him and to initiate the touch he craved so much makes him fall for you even more. he leans his head on yours, taking the chance to slowly intertwine his fingers with yours.
— san.
feels his heart rate pick up when you pull him into a hug. there’s something so innocent about the way you hold onto his waist, pulling him towards you so you could wrap your arms around him, and he loves the pure kind of love you show him. he hopes you can’t hear the beating in his chest (you can), and he prays that you never let go. “san.” he simply hums in response. “you give the best hugs,” you murmur into his chest. a breathy laugh leaves his mouth, and you know by the sound of it that he’s smiling. his eyes are probably crinkled, his dimples making an appearance. and you smile, too, hearing the way the beating in his chest gets just a bit faster.
— mingi.
feels his face burn when you tell him you’re proud of him. especially after a performance. with sparkling eyes, you tell him the three words that mean so much to him — “i’m so proud” — which sound a lot like three other special words to him. and sometimes, he’ll pretend it was nothing, saying “of course you are, i did great out there.” but when you nod in agreement, pink paints his cheeks. other times, he’ll look at you and simply pull you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and wishing you’d tell him those words forever and more.
— wooyoung.
lives for your attention. he says he can’t live without it. he often surprises you with little gifts, or by wrapping his arms around your waist to catch you off-guard, but once those actions are reciprocated, wooyoung feels his whole body warm up with the feeling of pure love. and when you show him that you were thinking about him by cooking for him instead like he always does for you or randomly coming up to him to kiss his lips, he realizes that he’s never felt this type of love before he met you. “what was that for?” he’ll say smugly, taking ahold of your waist after you kiss his lips. “hm? nothing, just felt like doing that.” and with that, he’s pulling you in for another kiss — this one deeper, and slower. you can feel his heart beating in his chest against yours, and he hopes that your hands won’t notice how warm his cheeks are.
— jongho.
he acts like he hates it when you call him cute because he is anything but cute. to him, you’re arguably cuter than he is so why would you be calling him cute, huh? however, his physical reaction would say otherwise when he can’t help but feel his face get warm. “y- you shouldn’t say that so suddenly,” he’d stutter and turn away from you to hide the very apparent blush on his face. he’s not known to be shy and doesn’t always know how to handle it, but he always seems to find it embarrassing. you reassure him that you don’t say it to make him feel inferior or anything, but rather that you just love him so much that you can’t contain your words sometimes. he’s actually quite understanding, concluding that his red cheeks could only be a sign of mutual, loving feelings for you too.
𝐚/𝐧: this was originally gonna be a yunho messaging story, but i felt like the text i wrote fit wooyoung more so i switched it last minute 😭😭 but i hope you all enjoy!!
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sex, teasing, use of the word “mommy”, praises
You show up on Jongho’s dorm couch without warning because you have run out of places to be “fine.”
Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff
WC: 2.7k
Mon’s Note: to all my Jongho girlies who’ve been left starving for soft boyfriend Jongho—this one’s for you.
Jongho showed up with no warning and all certainty, like the universe had finally decided you’d been through enough.
You were curled up on his dorm couch—unannounced, shoes tucked by the door like you belonged there—half wrapped in a blanket burrito with your phone balanced on your stomach. The living room was dim and quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy.
The lock clicked.
A beat of silence. Then the door opened, and Jongho stepped in smelling like cold air and practice—sweat still clinging to him anyway. His bag thumped softly to the floor. He took one step into the living space and stopped the moment he saw you on the couch, like the whole room had rearranged itself around that fact.
For a second, he just looked.
Then his shoulders dropped, his expression going startled-soft.
“Honey?”
You just hummed in response, not moving yet.
Jongho paused in the doorway with that look. The one that said I am going to fix this, but politely.
He stepped closer, and crouched beside the couch. His hand hovered over your forehead for one second like he was taking your temperature without touching you. Then his palm landed gently on top of your head.
Warm.
Steady.
“Are you alright?”
The question was quiet enough to be safe. Like if he said it softly, it wouldn’t scare you off.
You nodded because it was easier than explaining the way your chest felt too tight for your ribs, the way your thoughts kept slipping sideways like wet soap. Your throat worked around nothing.
Jongho stayed crouched beside you, palm still resting on your head, thumb making the smallest circle through your hair. His eyes tracked your face with that slow patience he saved for you.
“Hey.” His voice was gentler now, almost careful. “You should’ve told me you were here.”
You stared at the ceiling. The dim light made the corners of the room blur. If you looked at him, you were going to crack.
He exhaled, and the sound carried more guilt than it should’ve.
“I would’ve tried to wrap up practice sooner,” he said, like it was his fault you’d run out of places to go.
You swallowed. Your mouth tasted like metal.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” The words came out thin. Wrong.
Jongho’s eyebrows pulled together. “You’re not a bother.”
Silence stretched. You could feel the lie you’d been living in your teeth, in the way your smile had been held together with sheer will. It was getting harder to keep it on. Every second he looked at you like this made it impossible.
Jongho waited through the quiet like he knew it was something you had to climb through on your own.
When you didn’t say anything, he shifted closer, his knee bumping the couch, and lowered his voice again.
“Talk to me.”
You tried.
Your lips parted and nothing came out. Your eyes stung. You blinked fast, furious at yourself for it.
Jongho’s hand slid from the top of your head to your cheek, warm against the cold there. He tilted your face just enough that you couldn’t hide in the ceiling anymore.
“There you are,” he murmured, like he’d finally found you.
That was the thing.
You’d been hiding for so long you didn’t even know how to be seen without shaking.
Your breath hitched. Once. Twice.
“I’m tired,” you said, and it was the most honest thing you’d said in weeks.
Jongho’s eyes softened in a way that hurt.
“Tired how?”
Your chest tightened. The answer pressed against your throat, too big, too sharp. You looked down at your hands tangled in the blanket. Your fingers were white at the knuckles.
“I don’t…” Your voice broke. You swallowed it back down. “I don’t know how to keep pretending.”
The room went still.
Jongho didn’t flinch.
He just nodded once, slow.
“Okay,” he said. “Then don’t.”
You laughed, small and wet, because it sounded impossible.
He leaned in closer, forehead nearly touching yours.
“You don’t have to do that here,” he told you. “Not with me.”
And something in your chest—some last stubborn thread—snapped.
You covered your face with your hands and the sound you made was ugly, too loud for the quiet room. You tried to swallow it down, tried to apologise, but Jongho’s arms were already around you, pulling you forward like he’d been waiting for the moment you stopped holding yourself together.
“It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
His words were steady even when you weren’t.
He held you like it was simple.
“I’m sorry,” you started, because apologising was what you were used to. Because if you said it first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when he realised you were too much.
Jongho pulled back just enough to look at you.
Before the next sorry could spill out, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
Soft.
Unhurried.
Like he was sealing the apology shut.
Your breath hitched again.
“Hey.” His thumb brushed under your eye, wiping at the wetness you hadn’t even felt fall. “Look at me.”
You tried to turn away on instinct, but his hand cupped your jaw, gentle and firm, guiding you back. Not trapping. Just… there.
You met his eyes, and it made everything worse in the best way.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, voice low, like a promise. Like he wasn’t asking to fix you, just asking how to stay.
Your mouth opened. Nothing.
Need was a language you’d forgotten.
You swallowed, eyes burning.
“I—” Your voice trembled. You hated it. “I don’t know.”
Jongho nodded like that was an answer. Like it counted.
“Then we’ll start small,” he murmured.
You stared at the front of his hoodie, at the way his chest rose and fell so steadily it felt unfair.
The words came out before you could talk yourself out of them.
“Can you…” You licked your lips. “Can you hold me?”
For a second, his face softened so much you thought you might break all over again.
“Yeah,” he said immediately. No hesitation. No questions. “Come here.”
He shifted onto the couch, tugging the blanket open with one hand and pulling you into the space against him with the other. Your cheek pressed to his shoulder, your arms folding around his waist like you were afraid he’d vanish.
Jongho wrapped both arms around you, solid and warm, and held you like he’d been built for it.
His lips brushed your temple.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered.
You tried to breathe. You tried to let the steady weight of him rewrite your heartbeat.
The hallway outside the dorm living room creaked—pipes settling, or a door down the hall, or maybe just your nerves turning every sound into a warning.
Jongho’s gaze flicked toward the entrance, and you felt his body go alert without letting go of you.
“Wooyoung will be back any second,” he murmured, like he didn’t want the name to startle you. You stiffened at the idea of anyone seeing you like this—snotty and shaking.
Jongho tightened his arms a fraction. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Then, like it was the easiest decision in the world, he slid one arm behind your back and the other under your knees.
You made a small sound of protest, more embarrassment than refusal.
“Jongho—”
“Shh,” he said, and kissed your forehead again, quick and soft. “Let me.”
The blanket fell away as he lifted you. The room shifted, the couch leaving your spine, the air colder on your legs. You instinctively clung to his shoulders.
He carried you down the short hallway with quiet steps, like he’d done it a hundred times in another life. Like you weighed nothing.
His room door was half closed. He nudged it open with his foot and slipped inside. The lights were off except for the small lamp on his desk, casting everything in honey-soft shadows.
He set you down on his bed carefully, like you were fragile glass instead of a person who’d been trying so hard to stay unbreakable.
The mattress dipped under you. The sheets were warm.
Jongho climbed in beside you without asking, like he’d already decided you weren’t going to be alone. He pulled the comforter up and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in against his chest.
“Better?” he asked, voice barely there.
You nodded into his shirt.
“Tell me if you want me to go,” he added, steady and serious.
You shook your head.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Then I’m staying.”
His hand smoothed over your hair, slow and repetitive, like he was petting a stray cat into trusting him. Each pass caught a few damp strands and tucked them away from your face.
The comforter was warm from his body, and his hoodie still held that faint practice smell. It wrapped around you in layers, like your senses could finally land on something real instead of free-falling.
Jongho shifted until you were properly tucked into the curve of him.
Not hovering. Not tentative.
Just there.
His arm tightened, the weight of it firm across your shoulders and upper back, and the pressure made your bones feel like they remembered how to exist.
“Okay,” he murmured, voice brushing your ear. “Personal weighted blanket mode: activated.”
A tiny sound escaped you—half laugh, half breath.
He hummed like he’d won. “Good. I’m very expensive, so you’re lucky you caught me in a charitable mood.”
You sniffed, embarrassed.
“Mm.” His hand paused at the back of your head, thumb pressing a gentle circle there. “No refunds either. Once you request the blanket, you’re stuck with it.”
Your shoulders trembled again, but this time it wasn’t from panic. It was from something lighter trying to exist in the same space.
Jongho felt it anyway.
“That’s it,” he said softly, like praise. “Let it out. Then let it go.”
He adjusted the pillow with his free hand, nudging it under your neck so you didn’t have to. Then he settled again, broad and solid beside you. His fingers traced slow lines along your arm through your sleeve—warm skin, warm fabric—until the buzzing under your skin started to quiet.
“Too much?” he asked.
You shook your head, the smallest movement.
“Too little?”
You hesitated, then tucked closer.
Jongho’s breath warmed the top of your head. “Copy that.”
He pulled you in with a gentle squeeze that made you feel safely pinned to the present.
Outside his room, the dorm was alive in tiny ways—muffled footsteps in the hall, someone’s laughter two doors down—but in here, it was just you, the dim desk lamp and Jongho’s arms.
He kissed your hair once, “You’re doing good,” he whispered. “You’re here. I’m here.”
And when your breathing finally evened out, he sighed into you, pleased and sleepy.
“See?” he murmured. “Told you I’m useful.”
You let out a shaky breath that almost counted as a laugh.
“Arrogant,” you mumbled into his hoodie.
“Accurate,” he corrected, and you could hear the smile in it.
He stayed quiet after that, giving you space to exist. His hand kept moving, slowly, the kind of touch that didn’t demand anything back.
Your eyes burned in that tired way that meant sleep was hovering close, but your body still didn’t trust it.
Jongho seemed to feel the tension anyway.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We don’t have to solve anything tonight. We just have to get you through the next hour. Then the next one.”
You swallowed. “What if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll do it with you,” he said, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t heroic, just practical.
The simple certainty of it made your chest ache.
You shifted, trying to wipe your face on his sleeve without making it obvious.
He clicked his tongue. “Hold on.”
He reached over to the nightstand and came back with a tissue from a crumpled packet, offering it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You took it, embarrassed.
“Don’t apologise,” he said immediately, like he’d heard the thought forming. “If you say sorry again, I’m adding a late fee to the weighted blanket service.”
You made a sound that was definitely a laugh this time, small but real.
“There it is,” Jongho murmured, pleased.
You turned your face slightly, just enough to look at him.
His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but his focus didn’t waver. Like all his tired belonged to him, and all his attention belonged to you.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Jongho’s expression softened. “For what?”
“For… not being mad. For not making me explain everything.”
He brushed his knuckles along your cheek. “I’m not mad.”
Then, quieter: “I’m just sorry you felt like you had to carry it alone.”
Something in your throat tightened again, but it didn’t tip into panic this time. It just… hurt in a way that felt survivable.
You closed your eyes.
Jongho adjusted you like he was arranging something precious—tucked your shoulder in, pulled the comforter higher, nudged your forehead to the warmest part of his chest.
“If you wake up and it’s bad again,” he murmured, “you nudge me. Even if it’s three a.m. Even if you think you’re annoying. You nudge me.”
You nodded, already drifting.
“And tomorrow,” he added, voice turning lightly serious, “we’re going to eat something. Water too. Like responsible adults.”
“Mm,” you hummed.
“And,” he said, just to make you smile again, “if you behave, I might even let you rate my blanket services online.”
You managed a tiny laugh, your cheek warming.
Jongho’s hand resumed its slow rhythm at the back of your head. Then he shifted, careful, and pulled the comforter up higher so it covered the tips of your shoulders. He tucked the edge around you like he’d done it a thousand times, like he’d been saving that small kindness just for you.
“There,” he murmured. “No draft. Maximum blanket efficiency.”
You made a soft sound of agreement.
His arm stayed heavy across you, the perfect pressure, and his other hand found yours under the covers. He laced your fingers together slowly, giving you time to pull away if you needed to.
You didn’t.
Jongho squeezed once—gentle, steady.
“You can breathe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
You tried, and it was easier now. The rise and fall of his chest behind you guided yours into matching it. He pressed his lips to your hair again, then to your temple, a trail of quiet reassurance. Each kiss was soft enough to barely feel, but you felt all of them anyway.
“Hey,” he said, voice gone even sleepier. “If your brain starts being mean again, you tell it I said to shut up.”
You huffed a laugh. “You can’t—”
“Can,” he corrected, and you could hear the grin. “I’m very strong. I can fight thoughts.”
You shifted closer, a little selfish with him.
Jongho made a satisfied sound, like you’d solved a puzzle. “Good. Exactly like that.”
He nudged his nose against your hair and sighed, warm air feathering your scalp. Then, quieter, more earnest:
“You don’t have to earn this, okay? You don’t have to be okay to be held.”
Something in your chest softened, not breaking this time, just unclenching.
“Okay,” you whispered.
“Good.” He kissed your forehead again, lingering. “That’s my favourite word from you.”
Your eyelids felt heavy. Your body finally believed the bed would keep you. Jongho’s thumb traced slow circles on the back of your hand, over and over, until the last sharp edges in your breathing smoothed out.
“And tomorrow,” he added, like a promise he was tying around your wrist, “we’ll do breakfast. Something warm. Then we’ll take it one hour at a time. Deal?”
You nodded, half-asleep.
“Deal,” he echoed softly, pleased.
He settled his chin on the top of your head and held you like a fixed point in the universe, like nothing could pull you away without going through him first.
Right before sleep took you, you felt him shift just enough to press one more kiss to your forehead.
Request: the reader gets sick or hurt but doesn't want to tell the boys cause they are busy or on tour and don't want them to worry or get sick too.
Warnings: They are idols, mentions of medicine and food, bits of self doubt and reader is injured/sick
A/n: blind by ateez is such a good song fr | daily click
Seonghwa
Honestly, he looks a bit disappointed
He thought you knew him better than that
After all, what did he do to give you the impression that he'd rather not be "bothered" if you ever got injured?
Makes sure to take proper care of you until your complete recover
It doesn't matter if he's preparing for a now comeback
Your well being will always come first to him
"And don't you ever forget, I'm here for you. No matter what. I want to be bothered, so bother me all you want."
Hongjoong
Very similar to Seonghwa
Except he's not necessarily disappointed
He's in denial
Like, there's no way you were sick for almost 2 weeks but didn't tell him because he was on tour
You didn't actually do it
Right?
And he can't believe he didn't notice it before, even if you made sure to hide it
Feels like he failed you a little
Makes sure to check on you all the time, overseas or not
"You know you can tell me all you're going through, right? That's what I'm here for."
Yunho
Low-key doubting himself a bit
Is he that bad of a boyfriend that you thought he wouldn't have the time to take care of you 💔
Or even worse
Did you think he wouldn't want to be there for you?
Wonders what he did to give you that impression
And he is on his way to fix it
While taking care of you!
No way you are escaping him giving you the nurse treatment
Being 100% boyfriend material just in case
"Are you feeling any better? I can go buy any remedy you might want. Or soup! Do you want soup?"
Yeosang
He did think your voice was a bit hoarse when he called you two days before
But it's not until you were sneezing nonstop today is that he caught on
You were sick
And when he asked you about it you dared to deny, even if it was so obvious you were lying
Him being on Japan doesn't mean he can't take care of you?!
Makes sure to order medicines and food to your place
Now there's no denying
"Hey, just letting you know that dinner should be there in less than 20 minutes. I ordered you your favourite :)"
San
He was surprisingly fast at discovering, even if you were trying to hide
Mostly because it's kinda hard to walk around with a sprained ankle
So even though he was tired and wanted nothing more than just sleeping after a tough day at practice
He noticed you were in pain
Don't even try to deny
Suddenly he's all energised, ready to take care of you
And he's demanding answers
Why did you hide it from him? How did you hurt yourself? For how long were you walking around like this?
Will take care of you but will also (affectionately) scold you until your ears fall off
"You should call me right away when something like this happens! You were planning on keeping it a secret or something? Wait what-"
Mingi
Honestly, you should've just told him
"But he's so stressed because of work, I don't wanna worry him"
Well, that did not work
If you had told him from the beginning, he would've probably be less worried
But now, because you said "I fell from the stairs, but I'm okay now" he thinks you're on verge of death
We know you had good intentions
But bro is STRESSING 😭
So please, next time just tell him right away lmao
"For God's sake, Y/n, don't ever do this again. Are you okay, though? For real?"
Wooyoung
Oh wow
This one is feeling like he was backstabbed
Even if you were an oscar winning actor/actress, you would NOT fool this guy
When it comes to you, he knows and noticed everything
So after making sure you're alright, even with the slight pain, he just keeps eyeing you
Waiting for you to tell him how'd you get hurt
But then you don't
And he's honestly a bit hurt you wouldn't rely on him even when your knees were that bruised
Proceeds to take care of you (and interrogate you), all while hoping you'll be able to understand he's there for you
All the time
"Could you put me as your emergency contact? I want to be there for you if you ever need me."
Jongho
Probably the most understanding out of the boys
He was in the other side of the world, after all
And although he'd go back to you in a heartbeat, he knew why you wouldn't want him to
So he understands your point of view
But damn
You guys called each other a few times
He would've appreciated if you had told him
He could've asked a staff to help you, he could've bought you medicine
If he could at least ask how you were feeling, he'd already feel better
So please, don't hide those things from him
"Are you sure you don't want me to go back home? I know, it's just a bit of a fever, but I don't mind going back. Just say the word."
Masterlist | you'll probably like: their s/o is overworked
Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!
