#czennie

[haebo]

b*tches be like “i love emo boys” and its just istj era haechan.

[blessmehachu]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ݁₊⊹ lee jeno

֢

⟢ SYNOPSIS—the stranger you slept with last night is your new boss.

⟢ STARRING—ceo!jeno, fem!reader, idol!aespa, manager!kun, worker!seulgi, idol!nctwish

⟢ GENRE—fluff, modern!au, drabble

⟢ CAUTION—profanity, nsfw

⟢ W.C—2.4k words

⤷ MUSIC: love talk — WAYV

house of cards — BTS

meddle about — CHASE ATLANTIC

✉️ (pls read!) - since this story is a little more explicit than the other’s i just wanted to preface that it is strictly a work of fiction inspired by real people. all the events, dialogues, and characterisation’s have been created for storytelling purposes and do not reflect real-life actions or personalities of anyone mentioned in this fic.

֢

𝐘/𝐍 𝐋/𝐍

you wake up to an unfamiliar ceiling.

soft daylight filters through curtains that definitely aren’t yours, casting a warm glow over sheets that smell expensive—and like someone else. your nose crinkles at the scent, some mix of cologne and sex, clinging to your skin like regret.

your body feels warm. too warm.

when you glance to your right, the reason becomes clear.

there’s a man beside you. silver hair tousled against the pillow, lips parted slightly, one strong arm draped lazily over your waist. his chest rises and falls steadily. peaceful. content. like he didn’t just blow your entire life off track.

your heart sinks.

memories come rushing in all at once—flashes of a bar, laughter, his mouth on your neck, your legs wrapped around his waist, whispered things that made your stomach flutter. and then… nothing. until now.

you sit up, careful not to wake him. what the hell were you thinking? scratch that—you weren’t thinking. you don’t even know his name. you don’t know why you let him talk you into coming back to this hotel. and worst of all? you don’t know why the sex was good enough to make you forget all of that.

you sigh and peel his arm off you, his fingers twitching slightly in his sleep. slipping out of bed, you pad across the room and start scanning the floor for your clothes. your chrome hearts jeans are crumpled by the foot of the bed, your shirt half-tangled in them.

you yank your jeans on, shimmying them up your hips as quietly as possible. but of course, nothing ever goes your way.

a low voice breaks through the silence. rough. groggy. annoyingly sexy.

“what are you doing?”

you freeze, hands still on your waistband. turning your head slowly, you meet his gaze—half-lidded, hazy, but focused entirely on you. his voice alone sends a shiver down your spine and you hate that.

“leaving,” you mutter.

without thinking, you toss your shirt at him like a distraction. he catches it with one hand, confused, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

he stares at it. then at you.

“seriously?” he asks, sitting up against the headboard, the blanket pooling low around his hips. his torso is all smooth skin and sharp lines, abs you definitely remember running your hands over last night. his arms flex as he leans back, muscles moving under skin like sin incarnate.

you snatch your shirt from his hand with a scoff. “don’t act surprised. you knew what this was.”

his jaw clenches. “i thought we had something.”

“we had tequila,” you snap, dragging your shirt over your head. “and a lapse in judgment.”

he raises a brow. “a lapse? princess, if that was a lapse, you need to make more mistakes like that.”

you groan. your head is spinning, not from the hangover, but from the idiocy.

“i have a job interview in less than two hours,” you bite, zipping up your jeans. “i don’t have time for this.”

he shrugs, eyes still glued to you like he owns the air you breathe. “then don’t go . . . stay.”

you pause mid-step, slowly turning to face him.

“what?” you deadpan.

he smirks, the cocky kind that makes your fists twitch. “i said, fuck the interview. stay with me instead.”

your jaw drops.

“are you insane?” you shout. “do you not get that some of us actually have lives? responsibilities? goals?”

“yeah,” he drawls, sliding out of bed, now shirtless and smug. “but your goal last night seemed to be getting me to fuck you senseless. and i’d say we nailed that.”

rage flares in your chest like a lit match. “you arrogant prick—!”

you grab the nearest pillow and hurl it at his head. he dodges it with a laugh.

then the lamp. he catches that one—barely.

“seriously?” he chuckles, clearly enjoying this.

“you’re infuriating!” you scream. “i don’t even know your fucking name!”

he tilts his head, still smirking. “it’s jeno.”

“i don’t care,” you hiss, stalking toward him with arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying not to glance at the way his abs flex with every move. “you could be the boss of the fucking world and i’d still walk out that door.”

“good to know,” he murmurs. “i’ll make sure your résumé gets lost.”

you blink. pause.

“what?”

he grins. “nothing.”

you shake your head furiously. “i’m not risking my future for a random hookup—no matter how good his dick game is.”

“thank you for the review,” he says smugly.

you let out a strangled sound, grab your purse, and stomp toward the door.

“hope you enjoyed the one-night experience,” you call out, voice laced with venom. “because next time, i’m taking your damn clothes with me.”

with one final glare, you swing the door open and disappear down the hall—heart racing, fists clenched, and cheeks burning for so many reasons.

֢

you don’t even remember the drive home—just the blur of city streets, your foot heavy on the gas, and your jaw clenched so tightly that it hurt.

once you’re inside your apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make a beeline for the bathroom, stripping off your clothes as you go. the hot water stings against your skin, but you welcome the burn. you scrub harder than necessary, trying to wash off the smell of expensive cologne and regret.

you should’ve left last night. you should’ve never gone with him in the first place.

but no.

you stayed.

and now you’re spiraling in the shower over a stranger with silver hair and a stupidly good jawline.

when you’re done, you wrap yourself in a towel and march straight to your closet. you pull out a baby pink miu miu set—cropped blazer, matching mini skirt. it makes you look polished and put-together even if you feel like screaming. you slip on a pair of white ralph lauren heels and swipe on a glowy makeup base.

with your birkin slung over your shoulder, you pull the door shut behind you—hard enough to rattle the frame—and make your way down the stairs, the sharp tap of your heels echoing in the empty hallway.

your car waits outside like it knows you’re running late. you slide into the driver’s seat, throw your bag onto the passenger side, and catch a glimpse of the time on your dash.

9:17.

your stomach knots.

you grip the steering wheel, jaw tight, and pull out of the lot. the roads feel slower than they should be—too many lights, too many people in your way. your fingers drum restlessly on the leather as buildings blur past the windows, none of them the one you’re racing toward.

every second that ticks by feels like it’s pressing into your spine.

you’re still buzzing from this morning. not from the rush, not from adrenaline—from him. from his voice, his hands, the smirk you can’t scrub from your memory no matter how hard you try.

you shake it off. try to focus.

and then you see it.

a glass giant in the middle of the city. sunlight reflects off the building like it’s showing off. the letters neo culture technology stretch bold and proud across the front—professional and untouchable.

your breath catches, just for a second.

you pull into a space near the entrance and kill the engine.

a moment passes.

sighing, you adjust your blazer and smooth down your skirt. you also take a second to check your reflection in the mirror and whisper a string of affirmations under your breath.

get it together. don’t let one random stranger ruin your entire morning.

you step out of the car, head high, heels clicking with purpose.

and you walk straight into chaos.

paparazzi crowd the sidewalk, shouting over each other, camera flashes bursting through the sunlight. at first you think they’re here for someone famous—and you’re right.

four girls walk past you, dressed like they belong on magazine covers. one of them flips her hair, completely unfazed by the crowd. another flashes a peace sign.

“giselle! giselle, over here!” a cameraman shouts.

you can’t help but laugh softly when she sticks her tongue out in response.

but before you can process anything else, the noise shifts. it gets louder.

“the boss is coming!” someone yells.

you glance up just in time to see a man in a perfectly tailored navy-suit, step out of a sleek black car.

it was as though the air had suddenly shifted and the camera’s seemed to click even louder.

even women on the sidewalk turned to stare.

you do too—if only for a second. but your gut tells you to look away.

so you do.

you keep your head high, stride toward the entrance, and walk in behind him, careful to keep your distance.

inside, the lobby is massive—high ceilings, marble floors, glass walls that stretch forever.

you head silently toward the front desk where a woman with a sharp bob and perfect eyeliner is typing something on a screen.

her name tag reads seulgi.

she looks up and greets you with a smile. “hi there! how can i help you today?”

you clear your throat and try to sound put-together, “i’m here for a job interview,”

“name?” she asks sweetly.

“y/n l/n.”

her fingers click quickly across the keyboard before she nods. “you’re in room 127, fifth floor. elevators are to the right.”

you thank her and turn to head toward the elevators.

as you get closer, the doors slide open to reveal a group of six guys. they’re chatting, laughing, and clearly in the middle of some inside joke. one of them—the one with a bag covered in keychains—grins at you as they pass.

“i like your green star thing,” you say with a small smile.

he lights up. “thanks!”

as they walk away, you hear a burst of laughter.

“yo! she called wichu a green star thing!”

your cheeks burn as the elevator doors close behind you. you bury your face in your hands for a second, then laugh it off.

it’s fine. nothing you can’t survive.

a soft ding announces the fifth floor, and you step out into a quiet hallway. your nerves come back full force. your fingers twitch as you walk, nails digging into your palm with every step.

you stop in front of a glass door labeled 127. behind it, you see a large conference room—long table, high-backed chairs, neutral walls.

you swallow hard and push the door open.

inside, a man looks up from his tablet. late twenties, sharp features, polite expression. you vaguely remember the name kun from your email thread, but at this point, you’re not sure if your brain can be trusted.

“good morning, l/n,” he says, gesturing to the opposite seat. “you can sit there.”

you nod and walk across the room, trying not to wobble in your heels.

the silence stretches just a second too long.

“the interview will begin as soon as the ceo arrives,” kun says, checking his watch. “he should be here in about—”

the sliding door opens with a whisper.

you don’t need to look up. your whole body knows who it is.

but you do anyway . . . and your stomach lurches.

jeno.

silver hair swept back. navy suit hugging his frame like it was made for him—which, honestly, it probably was.

abruptly, he meets your eyes—and smirks.

your jaw tightens.

“sorry i’m late,” he says smoothly, settling into the seat at the head of the table.

your mouth is dry and your hands feel uncontrollably numb.

your one-night stand is the ceo of neo culture technology. the same man who told you to skip your interview and stay in bed with him.

he doesn’t even look at you—at least, not directly. but when your eyes meet for the briefest second, there’s something there. recognition. amusement. heat.

he knows.

and he’s enjoying this.

you look back at the other guy—kun, was it?—and try not to panic.

“shall we begin?” he says, adjusting his blazer.

jeno gives you a look. “yes, let’s begin.”

֢

kun starts asking standard questions—your experience’s, your goals, your interest in the position. you try to focus, answering as best as you can without choking on the panic rising in your throat—but you can still feel jeno watching you.

finally, kun leans back in his chair and glances at jeno. “would you like to ask her anything, sir?”

jeno leans forward slightly, folding his hands together. “do you have any… reservations about joining our team?” he asks.

you hesitate. “i mean . . . i do have one concern.”

kun tilts his head. “which is?”

you glance quickly at jeno. he’s staring straight at you, unblinking.

“i just think…” you start carefully, “…sometimes it’s hard to stay… professional if you’ve had a previous interaction with someone on the team. especially one that’s… complicated.”

there’s a silence.

kun looks confused, but jeno’s lips twitch slightly.

“understood.” kun nods.

jeno clears his throat. “well, i think we can work around that. you’re clearly competent. and we’re severely short on interns right now.”

you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, his gaze sharp.

“two-hundred dollars an hour,”

you blink. “excuse me?”

“two-hundred an hour, flexible schedule. full access to the executive suite. you’ll be assisting me directly.”

your mouth opens, but no words come out.

jeno leans back in his chair, folding his arms.

“you need the money,” he says quietly. “and we both know you’re more than qualified.”

he tilts his head, that smirk of his still evident on his face. “so, what’s it gonna be?”

you stare at him. at the man who slept with you, and now wants to hire you.

kun watches the two of you curiously, unaware of the firestorm happening beneath the surface.

you pause.

then, finally—reluctantly—you mutter, “fine.”

jeno smiles.

but it’s not a friendly smile.

“great,” he says coolly.

kun grimaces, rising from his seat. “welcome to the team, l/n.”

you plaster on a polite beam as he exits the room, leaving you two alone.

just you. and jeno.

the door slides shut.

and in the sudden silence, jeno speaks again—his voice lower, rougher, real.

“so… still think it was a mistake?”

you don’t answer.

you just grab your bag and stand.

but not before you catch the look on his face.

like he’s already planning what he’s going to do with you next.

[altjisung]

INTERSTELL⭐️R

pairing: idol p.js x f! reader

wc: 5.1K

genre: smut, fluff, angst, 18+

warnings: fingering, slight restraint, praise, m x f, condom use (stay safe people), ji is a soft dom, (im super new to writing smut so if I missed any I AM SO SORRY)

summary: There’s something about the universe that makes everything feel bigger—and smaller—all at once. This fic is about a night that feels infinite, and the silence that follows when it ends too soon. it’s about almost-love, fear, and the kind of connection that doesn’t really leave, no matter how far you run from it. Set between soft starlight and quiet mornings, it follows two people who meet at the right time… but not in the right way—and what happens when they’re given a second chance to do it differently. it’s messy. it’s honest. it lingers.

a/n: hiii! I’ve been waiting to post this since I saw the vlog of ji at the planetarium </3. I had eye surgery so the writing and post got delayed…but after some time IT’S READY!! Also this is my first time writing smut friends so I’m sorry if it’s bad 😔 let me know what you guys think :)

The evening air in Seoul carried a crisp edge, the kind that hinted at autumn's arrival without fully committing to the chill. You adjusted the scarf around your neck as you waited outside the planetarium, the grand dome looming like a silent guardian against the city lights. Jisung had texted you twenty minutes ago, apologizing for being late—practice had run over, as it often did with NCT schedules. But you didn't mind. Moments like this, stolen from his whirlwind life, felt precious.

Your phone buzzed.

Tosung Park 🪐

here, look up!

You glanced skyward, and there he was, jogging across the plaza with that familiar lopsided grin. Park Jisung, all six feet of him wrapped in a black hoodie and jeans, hair tousled from the wind. His eyes lit up when he spotted you, and he quickened his pace, pulling you into a hug that smelled faintly of vanilla and exertion.

"Sorry," he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your ear. "Wouldn't blame you if you ditched me for the stars already."

You laughed softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. Those dark eyes, always so earnest, held yours for a beat longer than necessary. He looks down at your phone to see his contact on your screen. “Tosung Park?” he said through a stifled chuckle “you remembered the korean word for saturn I taught you and made it my nickname?” he smiles.

“Yeah..I thought it was fitting.. especially with all the rings you wear.” A faint smile and blush crept onto your face.

He blushed, a faint pink creeping up his neck, as he took your hand smiling. His fingers intertwined with yours seamlessly, calluses from guitar strings brushing your skin. "Come on. Show's starting soon."

Inside, the planetarium hummed with quiet anticipation. Jisung had booked a private dome viewing—just the two of you under the massive projector. He led you to the reclining seats, his excitement bubbling over as he settled beside you, arm draping casually over your shoulders. The lights dimmed, and the ceiling bloomed into an infinite canvas of stars.

Jisung's voice was a low whisper in the dark. "This is my favorite part of escaping. Space doesn't care about schedules or comebacks. It's just... endless." His thumb traced lazy circles on your arm. As constellations wheeled overhead, he pointed out Orion's Belt, then Cassiopeia, his words weaving facts with wonder. "Did you know neutron stars spin a thousand times a second? They're tiny but so dense, holding more mass than our sun."

You turned to watch him, the starlight casting soft glows across his face. His profile was sharp yet boyish, lips parted in quiet awe. "You're glowing," you said, half-teasing.

He glanced down, catching your eye. "Nah. That's you." The projector shifted to a nebula, swirling pinks and blues filling the dome. Jisung leaned closer, his free hand finding yours again. "This one's the Orion Nebula. Stars being born right there. Makes you feel small, right? But in a good way."

The show progressed, galaxies spiraling into view, black holes devouring light. Jisung's arm tightened around you during the cosmic collisions, his body a steady anchor. When the Milky Way unfurled in high definition, he sighed contentedly. "I could do this every night."

After the presentation, neither of you moved. The dome stayed dark, stars lingering like an afterimage. Jisung shifted, turning fully toward you. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip. "Thanks for coming here with me. It's better with you."

You leaned into his touch. "Always."

His kiss started slow, lips pressing softly against yours in the starlit hush. It deepened naturally, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you parted for him. He tasted like the mint gum he'd chewed earlier, mixed with something uniquely Jisung—warm, inviting. When you broke apart, foreheads touching, he whispered, "Your eyes... they look like the universe right now. All those stars reflecting back at me."

Heat bloomed in your chest. You kissed him again, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The dome felt like your own private cosmos.

Hand in hand, you left the planetarium into the night. Jisung suggested a walk along the Han River, the city lights mirroring the stars you'd just seen. Street vendors hawked hotteok and fish cakes, but he waved them off, more interested in stealing glances at you. "Hungry?" he asked, stopping at a bench overlooking the water.

"Starved," you admitted.

He pulled a thermos from his bag—homemade ramyeon, still steaming. "Figured we'd need fuel after all that cosmic energy." You ate side by side, knees touching, his shoulder against yours. Conversation flowed easy: his latest track ideas inspired by space sounds, your work stories, dreams of traveling beyond Seoul someday. Jisung listened intently, nodding, his eyes never straying far.

As the night deepened, he stood, offering his hand. "My place? It's closer, and I don't want this to end yet."

You nodded, heart racing.

His apartment was a cozy haven in the chaos of idol life—posters of space missions on the walls, a telescope by the window, vinyl records stacked neatly. Soft lighting from a galaxy projector painted the living room in purples and silvers. Jisung kicked off his shoes, pulling you into the kitchen for tea. "Chamomile? It’s my favorite."

You watched him move with quiet grace, sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms honed from dance practice. When he handed you the mug, his fingers lingered on yours. "You know," he said, voice dropping, "I've been thinking about you all week. That date at the planetarium? I’ve been planning it forever."

"Romantic," you teased, sipping the tea. “What’s this?” You ask, gesturing to the massive telescope.

He follows your gaze to the telescope, and for a moment he looks almost shy—like you’ve caught him in a private corner of himself he doesn’t usually share. “That?” he repeats, setting his mug down carefully on the counter as if the answer deserves full attention. “That’s my escape hatch.”

You tilt your head. “Escape hatch?”

A soft laugh slips out of him, warm and unguarded. “From everything. From schedules, noise, people talking at me all day.” He walks over to it, fingers brushing along the metal frame with something close to affection. “Up there, it’s just… quiet. Even if it’s not actually quiet, you know? It feels like it is.”

You step closer, drawn in by the way the galaxy projector light spills over his face, turning his features softer, almost unreal—like he belongs more to starlight than to this room.

He glances back at you. “Come here.” You do. Jisung gently adjusts the telescope’s angle, motioning for you to stand beside him. His shoulder brushes yours, intentional or not—you can’t tell, but he doesn’t move away.

“Okay,” he says, voice quieter now, slipping into something patient and focused. “So this is a refractor telescope. It basically gathers light through lenses here—” he taps the front carefully, “—and focuses it so you can see things our eyes can’t really catch on their own.”

You lean in slightly, trying to follow, but your attention keeps drifting between the telescope and him. He notices. Of course he notices.

He smiles faintly. “You’re not listening.”

“I am,” you insist, though it comes out weaker than you intended.

He hums, unconvinced, but not teasing you for it. Instead, he steps closer behind you, guiding your hands gently onto the adjustment knobs. “Try it,” he says. “Slowly turn this one.” His fingers cover yours—warm, steady, patient. You feel the faint pressure of his guidance more than his touch, like he’s making sure you’re the one in control even while he’s right there with you. As you turn the knob, the telescope shifts with a quiet mechanical sigh.

“There,” he murmurs. “Now it’s aligned with the window.”

You hesitate. “With the window?”

He nods. “For now. The city lights are a little too bright to see deep space properly from here. But you can still see something.” He steps aside slightly, gesturing for you to look. You hesitate again, then lean forward.

At first it’s just darkness. Then slowly, your eyes adjust—and there, scattered through the haze of light pollution, a handful of stars begin to appear. Faint. Fragile. Still real. A quiet breath leaves you. Jisung watches your reaction more than the sky.

“They look closer than they are,” he says softly. “But they’re not. Some of them might not even exist anymore by the time their light reaches us.”

“That’s… kind of sad,” you whisper.

“Or kind of beautiful,” he counters gently. “We’re always seeing the past. Even when we think we’re looking at now.” You stay like that for a moment, hands still on the telescope, his presence just behind you like a steady gravity.

Then he adds, almost casually, “You know what I like about it most?”

“What?”

He pauses, and when he answers, his voice is quieter than before. “It makes me feel small in a good way. Like my problems don’t get to be the center of everything.” A beat passes. Then you glance back at him slightly. “That’s very philosophical for someone with a galaxy projector and vinyl collection.” He laughs, real and bright this time. “I contain multitudes.” The telescope clicks softly as he adjusts it again.

“Here,” he says. “Try this.”

He guides your hand upward just a fraction, and suddenly the view shifts. A brighter point of light settles into focus—steady, glowing more than the others. “That’s Jupiter,” he says. Your breath catches. “That’s… Jupiter?” “Mhm, you can’t see the stripes clearly from here, but sometimes—if the air is steady—you can catch a hint of them.”

You don’t look away. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“It is,” he replies. A pause. Then, softer he adds: “And you’re seeing it the way I see it when I miss you on tour.” You turn slightly at that, startled by the honesty tucked into something so simple. He doesn’t look embarrassed. Just calm, like he’s decided not to hide it. “I always come back to this,” he continues, nodding toward the telescope. “Because no matter how far I go, the sky is the same. It’s like… a reminder that distance isn’t the same as absence.” The room feels quieter than before. Even the galaxy lights seem to dim into something more intimate. You finally step back from the telescope, turning to face him fully now.

His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I mean it." His lips found your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your pulse. You tilted your head, a soft gasp escaping as his teeth grazed lightly. "I want to make you feel like you're floating among the stars." He whispered gently.

The tea was forgotten. Jisung guided you to his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you. Moonlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, mingling with the projector's glow. He kissed you deeply, hands roaming your sides, slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your spine. Clothes shed slowly—his hoodie first, revealing a plain white tee clinging to his lean frame. Yours followed, his fingers deft but unhurried, reverent.

Naked now, skin to skin, he laid you back on the bed, his body hovering over yours. Jisung's eyes roamed, dark with desire but softened by affection. "You're beautiful," he breathed, voice roughened. His mouth trailed down your collarbone, kisses feather-light, then firmer, sucking gently at the swell of your breast. You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He paused, looking up. "Tell me what you want." Always checking, always caring.

"You," you whispered. "All of you."

A low hum of approval. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting you with care, circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. He watched your face, adjusting pressure based on your breaths, your soft moans. "Like that?" he murmured, slipping one finger inside, then two, curling them just right. Your hips bucked, pleasure building steady.

Jisung kissed you through it, swallowing your gasps. When you clenched around his fingers, trembling on the edge, he didn't rush. "I've got you," he promised, free hand stroking your hair. Orgasm washed over you gently, waves rather than a crash, his name on your lips.

He shed the last of his clothes, hard length pressing against your thigh. Condom from the nightstand—always prepared, always safe. He rolled it on, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ready?"

You nodded, pulling him down. He entered you inch by inch, stretching you perfectly, pausing to let you adjust. Fully seated, he stilled, forehead against yours. "Feels like home." Then he moved—slow thrusts, deep and measured, hips rolling in a rhythm that built heat without frenzy.

His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Look at me." You did, and in the dim light, his eyes held galaxies—yours reflected back, endless and deep. "The universe is in your eyes," he whispered, voice breaking with emotion. He kissed you softly, pace quickening just enough, every slide hitting that spot inside you.

Sweat beaded on his skin, muscles flexing under your palms. Jisung's dominance was quiet, in the way he controlled the tempo, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand when you tried to touch, releasing them to let you claw at his back. "Good girl," he murmured, lips at your ear, breath hot. But it was laced with tenderness—kisses peppered across your jaw, your throat, praises whispered like secrets. "So perfect for me. Feel so good."

You wrapped your legs around him, urging deeper. He obliged, grinding against your clit with each thrust, chasing your second release. It hit harder, pulling him over the edge with you—his groan muffled against your shoulder, body shuddering as he spilled inside the barrier.

He didn't pull away immediately. Stayed buried deep, kissing your temple, your eyelids, murmuring, "You okay? Need anything?"

"Just you," you sighed, arms around his neck.

Jisung eased out carefully, disposing of the condom before gathering you close. The sheets tangled around you, his heartbeat steady under your cheek. He traced patterns on your back—constellations, you realized, from the planetarium. "That nebula we saw? This one's yours." His voice was sleepy, content.

You smiled into his skin. "Promise more dates like this?"

"Every chance I get." His fingers combed through your hair. "Space is infinite. So's this."

Morning didn’t arrive gently.

It slipped in like something unwelcome—thin light stretching across the room, touching everything you didn’t want it to. The galaxy projector had shut off at some point in the night, leaving behind no trace of the universe Jisung had built for you—no constellations, no soft glow, no illusion of infinity. Just morning. Just reality.

You stirred slowly, still caught in the warmth of sleep, instinctively curling closer to the heat beside you.

Except—there wasn’t any.

Your hand drifted across the sheets, half-asleep, searching for something familiar—his arm, his chest, the steady rise and fall you’d fallen asleep against. There was nothing. Cold.

Your eyes opened, lashes fluttering against the unfamiliar quiet. For a moment, your mind refused to catch up, refused to accept what your body already knew. You turned your head.

The space beside you was empty.

Not just empty—undisturbed. The pillow was barely creased, the sheets smooth in a way that didn’t make sense. It was like he hadn’t just gotten up. It was like he’d been gone for a while.

Your heart stuttered.

“Jisung?” Your voice came out soft, sleep-worn, fragile.

No answer.

You pushed yourself up slowly, the sheets falling to your waist, the cool air brushing against your skin where warmth had been hours ago. The room felt different. Too still. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn’t belong in a place where someone should be.

“Jisung?” you tried again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

A faint unease curled in your chest, tightening as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. You reached for the first thing you could find—his shirt from the night before—and pulled it over yourself, the fabric slipping down your thighs, swallowing you whole. It still smelled like him. That made it worse.

You stepped out into the hallway, each step too loud, like you were disturbing something that had already settled.

The living room came into view.

Empty.

The telescope stood by the window, unmoved. The vinyl records were stacked neatly. The faint imprint of last night lingered in objects—but not in presence.

Your stomach dropped.

“No… you’re here somewhere,” you murmured under your breath, as if saying it could make it true.

You checked the kitchen. Nothing. The bathroom. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked to the front door. Closed. But something about it felt final—like it had already been opened and shut again long before you woke up.

That’s when your chest tightened for real.

You turned back toward the bedroom, something pulling you there—instinct, maybe, or something quieter. Something that already knew.

And then you saw it.

A small piece of paper, folded neatly on the nightstand. Waiting.

Your breath caught.

For a second, you didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it. Because somehow, deep down, you already understood—whatever was written there wouldn’t make this feel better.

But your hand moved anyway. Slow. Careful. Like you were afraid it might disappear if you touched it too quickly.

His handwriting. Messy. Rushed. Familiar.

You unfolded it.

I’m sorry.

The words hit you instantly, sharp and quiet all at once.

Your grip tightened.

Something came up. I had to leave early. I didn’t want to wake you. Last night meant a lot to me. I’ll explain soon.

-J

You stared at the note for a long time. Too long. Waiting. For more words to appear. For meaning to shift. For something to click. But it didn’t.

“Soon?” you whispered, your voice barely there.

The word echoed in your chest.

It felt empty.

At first, you tried to understand.

You told yourself this was normal. That his life wasn’t predictable. That things did come up. That maybe he really didn’t want to wake you, not after everything you’d shared. That maybe this was his version of being considerate. So you texted him.

Hey… I woke up and you were gone. Is everything okay?

You stared at the screen after sending it, your thumb hovering like you could pull the message back if you tried hard enough. It delivered.

You waited.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then two. You told yourself not to overthink it. He’s busy. He’ll reply. He always replies. Eventually, your phone buzzed. Your breath caught as you opened it.

Sorry. Practice ran over. I’ll explain soon.

Soon.

That word again.

You read it over and over, looking for something between the lines—something that sounded like him. But it felt distant. Flat. Like he’d typed it quickly without sitting in it, without feeling it. Your fingers moved before your thoughts could catch up.

Okay.

That was all you sent. Anything more felt like asking for something he clearly wasn’t giving.

The days that followed didn’t break you all at once. They wore you down slowly, like water against stone. At first, he still replied. Still answered. But something had shifted, and you could feel it. In the way his messages got shorter. In the way he avoided specifics. In the way every time you tried to bring up that morning, he redirected gently.

He’d tell you he’d explain properly. Not over text. That he just needed a little time.

Time for what?

You wanted to ask.

Time to find the right words? Or time to figure out how to say something he didn’t want to say? You started to notice the imbalance. You were the one reaching. He was the one responding. And even then—not fully. Never fully.

Two weeks in, something in you shifted.

You didn’t decide to stop texting first. You just didn’t. You waited. One day. Two. Three. Your phone stayed silent…that silence said more than anything he’d ever sent.

He knew exactly when you stopped trying. There was no final message. No confrontation. Just silence. And somehow, that felt worse…because it meant you were tired.

He sat in the back of the van, phone in his hand, your chat open. Your last message—Okay.

He hated that message. Because it didn’t ask anything. Didn’t push. Didn’t hold him accountable. It just… accepted. He didn’t deserve that.

He thought about texting you every day. He really did. He’d type something, stare at it, then delete it. Over and over again. Nothing felt like enough. Nothing justified the way he’d left. The truth sat heavy in his chest—he hadn’t trusted himself with something that real, with someone who made him feel like that.

So instead, he said nothing.

And watched the distance grow.

Spring came quietly. The city softened. The air lost its bite. Light lingered longer in the evenings, stretching across the river in gold instead of gray. Life moved forward, like it always does. You moved with it.

Not completely. Not easily.

But enough.

You still thought about him sometimes. In passing moments. In things that didn’t ask permission to remind you. A song. A night sky. The word soon. Jupiter, especially. Jupiter stayed. You didn’t mean to go back to the river.

It just… happened.

The weather was nice. The air felt light. Like something might change, even if you didn’t expect it to. You sat on a bench, watching the water move slowly under the fading light. You didn’t realize it was the same spot at first.

But your body did.

Your chest tightened before your mind caught up. You almost left.

But you didn’t.

The people of Seoul gathered at the river for spring, friendly neighbors catching up, children running happily, couples picnicking- everything went quiet. Behind you, footsteps. You didn’t turn.

“...You still come here.”

The world didn’t stop. But something inside you did. Your breath caught so sharply it almost hurt. That voice. You knew it instantly. Even after months. Even after silence. Slowly—You turned and there he was.

Park Jisung.

Standing a few steps behind you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be closer.

His hair was longer now, brushing his forehead softly. His frame looked the same—but there was something different in the way he held himself. Less careless.

More… aware.

And his eyes—God. His eyes looked like he’d been carrying something for a long time. Neither of you spoke, how do you start again with someone who never really ended?

“You’re back,” you said finally.

Your voice came out steadier than you felt. He nodded.

“Yesterday.”

A pause. “I—” He stopped himself. Like the words were stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. You stood. Slowly. Not moving closer. Not yet.

“You said you’d explain,” you said.

No accusation. Just truth. His jaw tightened slightly.

“I know.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know.”

The air between you felt fragile.

Like one wrong word could shatter it completely.

“I waited,” you admitted.

The words slipped out before you could stop them. His expression changed instantly. Sharp. Pained. “I waited longer than I should have.” Your voice wavered now. Not from weakness. From honesty.

“I know,” he said again—but this time it broke. Not loudly. But enough.

“Then why didn’t you come back sooner?” you asked.

And there it was.

The question that had lived quietly inside you for months.

He inhaled slowly. Like he needed the air just to say it.

“Because I didn’t think I deserved to.” That wasn’t what you expected. It hit harder than anything else he could’ve said.

“What?” you whispered.

“I hurt you,” he said.

His voice was steady—but his hands weren’t. You noticed the way they curled slightly at his sides, like he was holding himself together. “I left without explaining. I made a decision for both of us and called it protection.” A small, bitter exhale.

“It wasn’t.” Your chest tightened.

“I thought giving you space would make it easier for you to move on,” he continued. “I thought if I stayed away long enough, you’d stop waiting.” Your throat burned.

“And did you?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head.

“No.”

A beat.

“I didn’t stop waiting either.”

Silence. Heavy. Full.

“I tried,” he added. “I told myself I did the right thing. That it was better for you not to be tied to something unstable.” His eyes finally met yours fully. “But every city I went to… every stage… every night I looked up—” His voice faltered.

“You were there.”

Your breath caught.

“In everything,” he said softly. “The sky. The music. Silence.” A faint, broken laugh. “Jupiter, especially.”

That did it.

Your eyes stung.

“I kept thinking about that night,” he continued. “How you looked at it like it was something unreal… and how I told you it was real.” He swallowed.

“And then I went and made us the unreal part.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them. Quiet. Uncontrolled.

“You don’t get to say things like that now,” you said, your voice trembling. “Not after disappearing.”

“I know.”

“You don’t get to come back and act like you didn’t break something.”

“I know.”

His voice didn’t rise. Didn’t defend. It just… accepted.

“That morning—” you started, then stopped, your chest tightening painfully.

“You left a note, Jisung.”

He flinched.

“A note,” you repeated, your voice cracking now. “Do you know what that felt like? Waking up thinking something changed overnight? Wondering what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quickly.

“Then why did you leave like that?” you demanded.

“Because I was scared of how much you meant to me.”

The words came out fast. Unfiltered. Raw.

Silence hit again. Harder this time.

“I knew I was leaving,” he continued, stepping closer now without realizing it. “Longer tour than I expected. No control over my time. No way to show up for you the way you deserved.” His voice dropped. “And I didn’t want to watch something real slowly fall apart because of distance.”

Your chest rose and fell unevenly.

“So you ended it before it could even try?” you whispered.

“I thought I was protecting it,” he said. Then quieter—

“I was protecting myself.”

That honesty hurt more than anything else. Because it was real.

“I would’ve tried,” you said. Your voice was softer now. Not weaker. Just… tired.

“I know,” he said. “And that’s what scared me the most.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away.

“You would’ve stayed,” he said. “And I didn’t trust myself not to ruin that.”

You stared at him. Really stared. And for the first time— You saw it. Not just regret. Not just guilt. But fear. The kind that lingers long after the moment has passed.

“I hated myself for leaving,” he admitted. “Every single day.”

Your heart ached.

“Then why didn’t you come back?” you asked again, softer this time.

“Because the longer I stayed away, the harder it felt to face you.” A shaky breath. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I hurt you because I didn’t know how to love you properly?’”

“Yes,” you said.

Immediately. Firmly. He froze.

“Yes,” you repeated, stepping closer now. “That’s exactly what you should’ve said.” Another tear slipped down his face.“I needed the truth,” you said. “Not silence.”

“I know.”

“You don’t get to decide how much I can handle.”

“I know.”

A long pause. The kind that doesn’t feel empty. Just… heavy with everything that came before it. “I don’t trust you the same way,” you admitted quietly. His expression softened. “I don’t expect you to.”

“But I still—” you stopped yourself.

Your chest tightened. He waited. Didn’t push. Didn’t interrupt.

“I still think about you,” you finished.

Something in him broke. You saw it happen. “Every day,” he said. Barely above a whisper. The space between you shrank. Not completely. But enough.

“I don’t want easy,” he continued. “I don’t want perfect.” His voice steadied. “I just want real. With you. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s hard.”

Your heart pounded.

“And if you get scared again?” you asked.

“I tell you,” he said immediately. “No running. No disappearing. No ‘soon’ without meaning it.”

A small, fragile silence. “Come with me,” he said softly. You hesitated.

“Where?” He glanced up. The sky stretched above the city—faint stars fighting against the glow of Seoul.

“Somewhere we can actually see them,” he said.

The drive was quiet. Not awkward. Not forced. Just… careful. Like both of you were relearning something that used to come naturally. He took you outside the city. Far enough that the lights faded. Far enough that the sky opened up again. When you stepped out of the car—Your breath caught. The sky wasn’t just visible.

It was alive.

Stars scattered across it in a way you hadn’t seen in months. Clear. Endless. Real.

Jisung moved to the back of the car, pulling out a blanket. Of course he brought one. Of course he thought of that. You sat side by side. Close—but not touching yet. The space between you felt intentional. Respectful.

“There,” he said softly after a moment, pointing upward. You followed his gaze. A bright, steady point of light.

“Jupiter,” you whispered. He nodded.

You stared at it longer this time. Not because it felt unreal. But because it didn’t.

“I used to look for it,” you admitted. “I know,” he said. You glanced at him. “How?” He gave a small, sad smile. “Because I did too.”

Your chest tightened.

“I’d find it and think… ‘you’re probably looking at this too.’” A pause. “Even if you weren’t.” You swallowed hard. “I was,” you said. That was it. That was all it took..

The space between you closed.

Not all at once. But slowly. Naturally. His lips found yours. Carefully. Like before. But different this time.

More certain.

You didn’t pull away.

The kiss sealed unspoken words. I’m sorries, what ifs, should haves, could haves, would haves, all fading into black. He pulls away, searching, longing, lost in the reflection of your eyes.

“I’m still scared,” he admitted quietly.

“Me too.”

A small exhale. Then— “That’s okay,” he said. You leaned into him. Resting your head against his shoulder. The sky stretched endlessly above you. Stars burning quietly across something infinite.

“This time,” he murmured, pressing his cheek lightly against your hair, “I’m staying.” Your fingers tightened around his.

“Good,” you whispered.

Because this time— You believed him.

And this time— He didn’t let go.

[weirdkpopgirl]

parenting | dream headcanon #16

headcanon: how they'd be as parents

genre: tooth-rotting fluff

warnings: none :))

word count: ~3.5k

author's note: omg it's been way too long since i last made a group post T.T. i really do apologize, it's just my inspiration for them have been running really low. but it's only because i feel like i've gotten to write most of the things i wanted to for them. anyway, i really hope you guys like this one. i definitely wasn't smiling like an idiot while writing it. thanks for reading as always ^ ^

~ ~ ~

mark 

Mark is the kind of parent who would be completely obsessed with his kid. Like the moment your baby is born, he knew he was a goner. You’d watch him cradling your son or daughter in his arms with pure love overflowing from his eyes. He’d lean close to little face and whisper, “Hi there, baby. I’m your dad,” grinning as if he had just won an award. 

If you had a boy, he would be super excited. The nursery would be filled with various shades of blue, and most nights would be spent with him lulling your little one to sleep by strumming his guitar. You would also hear Mark laughing as he fed him rice porridge airplane-style. He would also be very active with a boy, spending any spare time he got kicking around a ball or letting himself be tackled to the ground. 

From another aspect, he would make sure that your son knew how to treat women properly and never let him disrespect you in any way. He’d praise your son for any sort of good behavior and lovingly scold him if he misbehaved. With Mark as his role model, your son would grow up surrounded by steady love and unwavering support.

On the other hand, if you had a daughter, Mark would be quite different. Oh, she would have him wrapped around her finger and spoil her endlessly. He would be raving every five seconds about how cute she is, holding her up in his arms with the brightest smile on his face. He’d constantly be speaking to her in the softest voice and practically die every time she showed him affection.

Once she got older, though, Mark might have a hard time disciplining her. So you’d probably have to end up handling that part most of the time. It’s because he would break at the slightest hint of a pout, softening his heart in an instant. He simply couldn’t bear making her cry, even if she clearly needed to learn her lesson—  it would break him. 

And if his little girl ever came to him sad about something, he’d hoist her up onto his lap and squeeze her into the warmest hug without a second thought. He’d whisper all the sweet words into her hair to make her feel better and give her tickles just to see her smile again. Then he’d take her to the store and buy whatever snacks she wants.

Regardless of the gender, Mark would undoubtedly be a great father. He would just fall into the role so naturally, and your love for him would deepen every day. Even with his crazy life, constantly juggling different projects at work, he’d always make time for his kids and ensure that they never questioned how important they were to him.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

renjun 

Renjun wouldn’t act too differently with his kid, whether it was a boy or a girl. He’d still love them with his whole heart and be the best father he could be. He’s also the type of father who would praise his kids for small things and gush to you about how adorable they are. Oh gosh, cuteness aggression would be a recurring thing for him, too. Sometimes you’d catch him biting the air or balling his fists in pure excitement, while you held your baby up in your lap.

He would also be good when it came to disciplining your kids. If they misbehaved, he’d crouch down to their level, gently steady their shoulders, and maintain eye contact as he’d ask, “Was that okay or not?” In those moments, it was impossible for you not to be charmed by Renjun, even though you knew he was being serious. 

If you guys had a daughter, you would have so much fun dressing her up in different outfits. He’d also spoil her with cute accessories, especially hairpins. One day, he’d come back home and show you these pink and yellow bows he bought just because they made him think of your little girl. He would also buy matching outfits if you had a boy. He’s the type of dad who would be walking down the street with your son hand-in-hand, and people passing by would stop to awe at how adorable they looked.

Honestly, you would have a lot of fun seeing the father side of Renjun come out. He’d come up with different crafts for your kids to do together. The table would be scattered with papers and crayons, where he’d be teaching them how to draw something. He’d also teach your kids Chinese and how to write different characters, so they end up being bilingual. 

Renjun would want to do so many things with your children—  whether it was teaching them something new or coming up with a fun activity to keep them entertained. With him around, your kids would grow up to be bright and creative. While he’d take pride in their growth, the fatherly love he’d have for his kids would be genuine and deeply sincere.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

jeno 

Ugh, Jeno would seriously be the most gentle father. Like the second he finds out you’re having a baby, he just becomes ten times softer. During the first few months, when the baby cried endlessly, he’d insist on handling it and letting you stay in bed. Night after night, Jeno would hold your little one in his arms, soothingly patting their back and murmuring soft pleas to lull them back to sleep. His hair would be messy, and there might be a little spit-up on his shirt, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

It didn’t matter if you had a boy or a girl because your admiration for him would deepen regardless. But if you guys had a daughter, Jeno would be so whipped for her that he wouldn’t even realize it. He’d give in so easily if she wanted something and proceed to badger you with puppy eyes until you agreed. His eyes would be all smiley just from looking at her, marveling at how tiny she was. He’s also the kind of father who’d come home with candy tucked in his pockets, secretly slip a piece to your daughter before dinner, and raise a finger to her lips, whispering, “Don’t tell mommy.” Of course, there would be times you’d catch him doing this, and he’d just glance up at you with a helpless grin.

Then, if the latter were to happen, there is a high chance that your son will turn out to be a lot like Jeno. And it would be so cute catching all the similar mannerisms and expressions. His face would light up when your son would do or say something that he usually would, making him very proud. 

He is also the kind of father who would like to take naps with his kid— especially when they’re younger. So it would be a normal occurrence to find them curled up on the couch with the little one resting contentedly on top of him. You would definitely snap a bunch of photos because how could you not?

Jeno is the physical embodiment of cuteness in general, even though he never tries to be. Witnessing the small moments would be so heartwarming—  how he’d effortlessly scoop your kids in his arms if you had more than one, or the way he looks at them like they’re his whole world. And really, how could he not, when they’re a part of both him and you?

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

haechan 

Hoo boy—  where do you even start with Lee Donghyuck as a dad? Among all the Dreamies, he is one who has clearly stated he wants kids someday, and it’s not that hard to envision him in the role. He would definitely want more than one child, because he loves the idea of having a warm, close-knit family that the two of you built together.

He would be such a loving parent, but also a menace at the same time. This guy is a big tease, and his kids will not be exceptions to that. Even when they’re little, you’d constantly find yourself pushing Haechan away and chastising him for antagonizing your baby. But he would also treasure those infant-stage moments, happily playing with their tiny feet and blowing raspberries just to hear that sweet little laugh. 

And oh gosh, you can bet that if you end up with a girl, he’s gonna be all over her. Much like Renjun, only far more dramatic, he’d practically die every time she did something even remotely cute. He would glance at you with an utterly defeated look. “Babe, she’s too adorable—  I might die.” And you would just shake your head with a smile because Haechan himself can also be very endearing.

However, the difference that would separate Haechan and Renjun as dads is that your daughter would be spoiled to no end by him. It was already game over the second she was born, and he got to hold her for the first time. From carefully choosing the best gifts, feeding her pieces of fruit, or helping her pick the perfect dress for an event, Haechan would pour his heart and soul into it.

Then, of course, he’s never going to scold his little angel. How could he? It can even get kinda frustrating at times—  like when her room is still a mess— but Haechan, with all his nerve, would just pull your daughter close and make up excuses for her. “She’s just not done playing yet!” He’s the type of dad to secretly drink all her milk when she was supposed to, just when you weren’t looking. What a devil he can be—  and make no mistake, he will.

Now Haechan is going to act differently with a boy for sure. He might even get jealous of his son from time to time. And since your child would be Haechan’s son, there’s a very high chance that he’d be just like him. So Haechan would definitely whine when your son hogs all your affection, giving you a look of betrayal. He’d dramatically flop beside you and cry, “Ugh, I’ve been replaced. My wife doesn’t love me anymore!” You’d have to resist rolling your eyes and generously shower him with kisses just to stop the pouting. Honestly, the line between who was actually the baby wouldn’t feel that different.

On a different note, Haechan would raise your son to be a mini-version of himself —  with all the sass and cleverness. Of course, there would be times when it got thrown back at him, and watching the shock in his face would have you and his members rolling on the floor in laughter. But Haechan would also have your son running little errands for him—  like fetching extra vegetables from the friendly ahjussi on a trip, or handing him a tool when he’s trying to fix something.

Nevertheless, Haechan would give his everything to your kids, just like all the other members. Even if he can be a little over the top at times, anyone could see how much he loves his kids. He would do anything to keep them safe and never let a frown linger for long. Because that’s just the kind of person he is, a big lovable sweetheart.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

jaemin 

Na Jaemin is undeniably a walking green flag, and that easily applies to fatherhood as well. He’s a man constantly overflowing with love, never hesitating to pour it into the people he cares about, and it showed in your relationship. You never once had to question his devotion when he was always there to remind you in every lingering hug, every passion-filled kiss, every sweet word, and every thoughtful gesture. The idea of having children with him feels exciting and comforting, because you know in your heart he would be an incredible parent.

He’s the kind of father who would be present in your child’s life long before they were even born. The minute he found out you were pregnant, he’d make sure to take time every day to talk to your baby. In a soft, loving voice, he’d share little stories about his day and whisper how he can’t wait to meet them. And when the moment finally came and he held them for the first time, he would be glowing with pride and joy. 

It’s very easy to picture Jaemin as a girl dad. He’d never want to put her back down, wanting to savor every moment while she’s still tiny and delicate because he knows that one day she’ll grow up and won’t need him in the same way. From the start, he would be fiercely protective of her. He’d jokingly—  but very seriously—  remind you, “She’s not dating until she’s thirty.” You would also get used to hearing your daughter’s giggles every time Jaemin peppered kisses all over her chubby cheeks—  something he did at any chance he got.

On the weekends, he’d spend as much time with her as he could, making sure you got a break from the heavier tasks. He would happily indulge in all the games she invited him to play—  whether it was a princess tea party or a pretend hair salon. You’d laugh when you saw his hair covered in sparkly bows and clips, while your daughter beamed proudly as she searched for yet another one to pin in place. Jaemin really sets the gold standard, and your daughter would probably struggle with future suitors because her father is impossible to top.

But Jaemin would have just as much fun if you had a son. He’d be the dad making dramatic sound effects while they played toy cars, or pretending to be a fearsome monster that needed to be defeated. He’d also be the type to whisk your son away for some ice cream after dinner, always finding little ways to squeeze in extra moments together. 

Like Mark, your son would learn how to be a proper gentleman by watching how Jaemin treats you. And if he’s Jaemin’s kid, he’d grow up with a big, loving heart, he’d naturally want to share with others. And Jaemin would make sure to commend him for what a kind child he is.

To be honest, there are so many other reasons why being a dad fits Jaemin so well. But he is also someone you wouldn’t ever have to worry about when it comes to how your child will grow up. He’d also make sure you never felt alone in parenting, always stepping in to prove how strong a team you were together.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

chenle 

Being a parent might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Chenle, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t excel at it. In fact, he’d be an amazing father—  because once Chenle commits to something, he always gives his 100%. He’d be determined to become the best father imaginable, and he’d proudly show it every step of the way.

He is someone you could probably see having a son more, maybe because of his dynamic with Mark. But nonetheless, he would make the most out of being a dad. He would want your son to be involved in all the things he likes, such as his basketball obsession. He’d have him sitting in his lap during a game, wearing matching jerseys. Every few minutes, you could hear Chenle cheering from the living room, and would catch him raising your son’s tiny hands in enthusiasm.

You would also shake your head whenever Chenle brags about how much your little boy is so much like him. He just can’t help it because the idea of having a carbon copy of himself feeds his ego. He is also the type of father who will run a hand over his son’s head and spontaneously pull him in for affectionate hugs. Those moments would be really cute to witness.

Chenle would also be great with a daughter, too. On outings, especially family trips, he’s the kind of dad who carries her on his shoulders all day, and happily changes directions whenever she points at something that catches her eye. And obviously, she’d be given whatever she wants because that’s just the type of person Chenle is.

If he sees her eyes light up at a stuffed animal behind a window display, they’re stopping to buy it before anyone else even gets the chance. If she wants some overpriced popcorn for the movie they’re about to watch, he’s getting her the largest bucket they sell. And if her feet have grown and she needs a new pair of shoes, Chenle will purchase her a pair in every color to match her outfits. 

Your home would be filled with all sorts of things he’d bought for her to the point where you’d regularly bicker with Chenle about his habit of unnecessarily overcompensating. And every time he would just give you that incorrigible little shrug. “What’s wrong with my buying her stuff? It’s not like she’s gonna stay this small forever, you know.” *sigh*

This might sound bad, but Chenle as a parent is so predictable. He’s the type to exude a smug sort of pride about how incredible his kids are, and there’s no doubt they will be. But fatherhood would also bring out a new level of maturity in him, and he’d embrace every high and low of the journey with you by his side.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

jisung 

Some might think Jisung would be kinda clueless when it comes to parenting, given his maknae image and all. But he’d seriously be such a good father. He’s someone who cares deeply for his family, and his heart would grow 100 times bigger for his child. Jisung has also talked about being a dad in the past, so having a baby would genuinely bring this man so much happiness.

He would go to any length and measure to ensure you two were fully prepared to bring new life into the world. And even if he receives endless teasing (he will) from his members for taking everything so seriously, Jisung doesn’t care. He just wants the absolute best for your children. Then, when that baby comes, he’ll be the one crying his eyes out. Despite being in tears yourself, you’d find yourself patting his back in an attempt to calm him down.

Your baby would be held tightly in his arms as he gazed at them as if they were the most precious thing on Earth. And the way he leans in, speaking softly and smiling when those tiny hands reach out for him, would melt his heart entirely. Then he’d glance over to you to make sure you saw it, and you’d give him a smile of acknowledgment.

Jisung would also be really good at soothing your child during the hardest nights. Being tired the next morning doesn’t bother him because he wants to cherish every time he gets to cradle your child in his arms, and let them know that he’s never going to let anything happen to them. There would also be moments when you’d be lying in bed together with the little one, dozing off between you two. He could easily watch them sleep for hours.

He also wouldn’t act that differently depending on the baby’s gender, though he might be a bit more nervous if you had a daughter first. Having grown up around guys all the time—  and still being part of a large group of them, Jisung wouldn’t be entirely sure what to do at first. But with your gentle guidance, he’d figure it out.

Jisung would love it when his daughter sat on his lap, pressing her tiny hand against his. With his own being larger than the average, the contrast would be almost comical. The first time he noticed it, he’d blink in genuine surprise and exclaim, “Wah! How could her hands be so tiny?” Ever since, he’d enjoy comparing their hands, just like he used to do when you first started dating.

But if you guys had a son first, Jisung would be much more confident, thinking, “I know how to handle this one.” And honestly, he would. Jisung is the type of dad to chase him around the couch with toy guns in their hands. He would also enjoy losing every game to his son, just to hear him laugh in victory. But if your little boy seemed a little too boastful, a tickle attack was sure to ensue. 

Naturally, Jisung can be a bit emotional at times. So it wouldn’t be unusual to see tears in his eyes every time your child hit a milestone. More than anything, you’d find him to be incredibly wholesome. He would feel sad at the thought of your kids growing up, and you’d just have to remind him that was just a part of parenting. This would only motivate him further to appreciate every moment and treasure them as much as he can. 

Watching him step into fatherhood would be truly beautiful.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[afullsunbirthedme06]

Without you..

pairing: boyfriend!haechan x reader

genre: romance, fluff (it's just cute)

synopsis: living together with your boyfriend haechan, y/n quickly learned that haechan is very extra when it comes to attention and affection. He can't help it, he loves you to much.. Always craving closseness, being close to you. Whether it's hugging you, smothering you with kisses or just simply being so close to you. And you actually enjoyed it but would u admit? Mmm no, simply because you already know that he knew how much u enjoy it. That's how well he knows u..

"Mhmm... Hyuckk i can't breath."

You could feel his warm breath against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Haechan had pratically thrown himself on top of you, laying his head on your chest murmuring a small "I can't help it.", his voice muffeled against your shirt ( that you stole from him ) You giggled at his cuteness, reaching down to play with his soft messy hair.

it's started getting uncomfortable though, for you. You gently tried to push him off of you, but his grip only tightened. He looked at you with those eyes, those eyes who were so familiar to you since you saw Haechan almost every day. Those beautiful wide, dark puppy-like eyes. You couldn't help but melt for those.

"Babyy, stop pushing me away. Don't u love me?," he said with a whiny voice, pouting a little bit before sliding his head back on your chest, as if you were his pillow. You just rolled your eyes and murmurred jokingly "here he goes again.."

But Haechan wasn't done yet. He looked up to you with big, doe, dark eyes, slightly pouting in a way that could no longer let you stay upset.

"You know you love me," he said, his voice thick with affection as he titled his head to kiss your neck, his lips lingering there. The ticklish feeling made u squirm slightly, you put your hands on his shoulder, but didn't actually push him away.

He didn't stop there. He kept kissing you. He kissed u on your cheek, neck, ears , nose , lips. You felt him smothering you with kisses and pecks. You actually felt so loved.

That's when he suddenly stopped kissing u, you guys made long comfortable eye-contact. And that's when you both understood what u wanted. And Haechan took the first step (as he should)

You felt your heart race as his lips hovered just above yours. The air between you two felt charged, like everything around you disappeared. Slowly, Haechan leaned in, his lips soft and warm against yours. The kiss started slow, tentative, as if he was savoring the moment.

But it didn’t take long for it to deepen. His hands slid up to your neck, pulling you closer, tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss even more. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the way he kissed you—slow, but desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you either.

You let out a soft gasp when his tongue gently brushed against your lips, and without hesitation, you parted them, allowing him in. His kiss was passionate, full of longing, and each movement made your heart beat faster. His hands roamed to your back, pulling you even closer, if that was even possible.

You could feel him smiling against your lips, and it made you grin, too. The way he kissed you so intensely, yet with such tenderness, was everything. Every touch, every movement felt like it meant something more—like you were both lost in the moment, just existing in each others arms.

Haechan finally pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to catch your breath. His eyes were half-lidded, a playful glint in them as he spoke, his voice low and husky.

"Told you... You love me soooo much."

Haechan giggled before pressing another quick, soft kiss to your lips before resting his head back on your chest and his arms are back to being wrapped around your waist.

You giggled softly, a blush creeping on your ears, while wrapping your arms around him, feeling his warmth and gently stroking his hair. " You're lucky i love you."

"I'm too obsessed with you baby," He said with a chuckle, softly in your arms with a big smile as if hugging you was like heaven and murmurred a small "can't live without you."

And that’s it for now! 💖 I hope you liked this little fluff! If you want more, follow me and let me know what you want to see next! Your support means so much to me!🌸

[bang-chan-my-man]

nct jaehyun ~

[yunst4r]

jaehyun is huzz

[emislove]

NCT WISH NEIGHBOR TEXTS 🏠

✎ neighbor nct wish 📍

warning: some swearing & that's about it I believe..? 🥐

content under ⋆˚࿔

Gn reader

𝜗ৎ

SION

𝜗ৎ

RIKU

𝜗ৎ

YUSHI

𝜗ৎ

JAEHEE

𝜗ৎ

RYO

𝜗ৎ

SAKUYA

© emislove 2026

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

taglist: no one 😳

A/N: I wasn't too creative but yeah. I had a grammar mistake in Ryo's part, it's supposed to be "right outside your door", but I was too lazy to change it. English isn't my first language guys 😢😢 (I've been speaking English for 10+ years now). The kai photo card is actually my photocard and the stickers in the picture are stickers that my little brother gave me 😭😭😭 but yes, please let me know if you enjoyed!! and thank you for reading <𝟑 .ᐟ