genre fluff, short au | starring boyfriend!seungcheol x gn!reader | warnings|contains pouty and shy cheol | wc 0.4k | status proofread | masterlist | jho's notes. cheol's pout might be the greatest thing god created + his dimples
you weren't even trying to catch it. someone screamed, someone shoved and the next thing you knew, the bride's bouquet landed directly in your hands.
you stared at the flowers in your hand with shock, slowly blinking. a few people clapped, someone whistled— but the moment didn't fully hit you until you turned around and saw seungcheol.
he was standing near the back of the crowd, completely frozen. hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks, shoulders tense, eyes slightly wide and lips parted in a small, helpless pout— like he'd just witnessed his own surprise proposal.
beside him joshua was bent over laughing, seungkwan slapping his arm like he'd just hit the jackpot. you watched as joshua leaned in and whispered something in seungcheol's ear— whatever it was, it made his ears turn red instantly.
you bit your lip and held up the bouquet in his direction, trying— and failing— to hide the massive smile threatening to take over your entire face.
he looked at it, then at you still frozen in his place. a deep sigh escaped his lips as he finally moved, walking toward you at a pace like a man heading into his own wedding completely unprepared. when he finally reached you, he didn't say a word— he just kept looking at the bouquet, and then at you.
"i didn't even want to catch it" you teased, barely containing your laughter. he squinted at you, crealy not buying a single word, "sure, you just accidentally manifested it the all day long"
you giggled as he stepped closer, one arm slipping around your waist as his forehead fall against your shoulder with a dramatic groan. "they're never gonna shut up about this" he mumbled into your collarbone, you could feel the smile forming against your shoulder.
"good" you whispered, grin widening, "you look cute when you panic" he whined, then peeked up at you with the saddest, most drammatic expression ever. you tucked a hand into his hair, brushing your fingers through it slightly.
"you know i'd marry you tomorrow, right?" he muttered under his breath. you blinked, stunned for a second making him panicking instantly. "wait, i didn't mean— like, unless you want to" you kissed his cheek before he could melt completely into the floor.
his hand tightened around your waist, grounding himself again. you could feel the heat still raising in his ears, the tension easing out of his body with your touch. after a moment, you said softly "well, you'd make a cute groom"
prompt — “i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman.”
pairing — woozi x reader
genre — fluffy fluff, opposites attract, tiny bit of woozi’s inner turmoil but in a cute way
warnings — light swearing, mutual pining, woozi being emotionally constipated but adorable about it
word count — 600(?) i literally planned longer but my brain farted
note: nonchalant woozi + sunshine reader <3 thank you for this request hehe.
masterlist
he’s watching you again.
not in a weird way. not in a creepy way. probably.
it’s just—you’re laughing. again. and it’s the kind of laugh that bursts out of you like soda fizz, bright and sparkling, and it fills the whole studio. and he’s just—well...
“hyung,” seungkwan says, walking past with his laptop and a raised brow, “you’re staring again.” he sing-songs, rolling his eyes.
woozi blinks, caught.
“i’m not,” he replies, flatly.
“sure,” seungkwan sings, disappearing down the hall.
woozi sighs and sinks further into his chair. you’re sitting cross-legged on the studio couch, scrolling through your phone, earbuds in and completely oblivious to the absolute chokehold you’ve put him in.
and that’s the problem. you always are.
you’re warm, expressive, a walking serotonin shot. you light up every room you walk into and talk with your hands and cry over dog videos and compliment strangers’ outfits just because. you're the type of person who remembers birthdays, texts people good luck before big meetings, and bakes cookies on random tuesdays "just because you felt like it."
and woozi?
woozi is the guy who pretends not to hear compliments because he doesn’t know how to take them, he expresses love through perfectly mixed vocal tracks and buying your favorite snacks and pretending he’s not checking his phone every two minutes waiting for your reply.
and yet you’re here all the time.
you come by the studio even when he doesn’t ask. you bring coffee and snacks and once a tiny plush keychain because "it looked like you and i couldn't not buy it." you ask about his day like you really want to know. you hug him goodbye even though he never hugs back (not properly, anyway).
and sometimes you sit quietly beside him for hours, just vibing, while he works on music. humming under your breath. asking questions about things he thought no one ever noticed. like the way he softens the instrumental under the bridge to highlight the vocals. or how he layers harmonies to make the chorus sound fuller.
you notice everything—and it’s driving him insane.
because he’s not supposed to feel this soft. not when he barely knows what to do with his feelings half the time, not when you smile at him like you know something he doesn’t, like you’re waiting for him to catch up.
“you okay?” you ask suddenly, pulling out your earbuds and tilting your head at him. he startles slightly, coughing. “yeah.”
“you were spacing out,” you grin. “thinking hard, genius?”
he huffs a laugh, turns back to his screen. “something like that.”
you shuffle over and peer at his monitor, chin on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t move. doesn’t breathe. you’re close enough that he can smell your shampoo. something citrusy. fresh. “is this the new demo?” you whisper, like it’s a secret.
he nods.
“can i hear it?”
“it’s not done yet.”
“i don’t care.” you whisper, leaning in close to his ear.
and he sighs, already knowing that he’d lost to you with just one look. he hits play and pretends his heart isn’t doing backflips while you listen with that furrowed brow and soft smile. you always listen like this—like the song is a person you’re trying to understand.
when it ends, you turn to him, eyes wide. “woozi. that’s so good. it sounds like falling in love.”
he snorts, ducking his head. “that’s not what it’s about.”
“still feels like it,” you shrug.
he glances at you, a little helpless. you’re too close. too real. too much.
“you always say the dumbest stuff,” he mutters, but his voice is weirdly fond. you grin at this like you know you’ve won something. “you love it.”
and that’s the thing, isn’t it?
he does.
god help him, but he does. and his grumpy disposition falters as he rubs his palm into his eyes.
“i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman,” he mutters under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.
oh, but you hear it.
you blink, going still. lips part like you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you stare at him with an amused look on your face.
his eyes widen slightly, and for the first time in a long time, he feels his composure crack.
“…shit,” he curses, throwing his head back. “did i say that out loud?”
you blink again. then smile, slow and warm and soft enough to melt him right there in the chair.
“yeah,” you say. “you did.”
a beat passes. he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.
“…okay.” he pathetically mumbles,
and then you’re laughing. again. that same fizzy, unstoppable laugh, and you bump your shoulder into his and say, “about time.”
he stares at you, and you stare back. then you reach over and take his hand—gently, casually, like you’ve done it a hundred times—and squeeze.
“don’t worry,” you whisper. “seems like we’re both in trouble, then. you make me feel like i got a few screws loose, lee jihoon.”
and woozi, ever the calm, composed, nonchalant musical genius that he is—completely short-circuits.
join here!
if you liked this, i appreciate a reblog as well :3 it helps my works and writing spread to other ppl very effectively !!
Seventeen reaction to s/o kissing them on their cheek
their s/o kissing them on the cheek
warnings: descriptions; headcanons; gn (mostly) reader self insert;
pairings: svt x gn reader
gender/aus: fluff;
Transforms your peck into an actual kiss: Scoups, Mingyu
He'll either wait for you to do your thing before turning to you, cupping your face and fully kissing you on the lips, or pull up the old famous trick of turning his face in the middle of the peck. On both situations, he just wants to make sure he's repaying your affection displays properly - and even maybe beating you in your own game.
Doesn't really think about it and simply kisses you back: Joshua, Minghao
It'll all happen in a matter of seconds. You leave a little peck on his cheek, unable to contain the sign of affection towards your cute boyfriend, and he won't even blink and just kiss your cheek back. Even if he's in the middle of something, distracted on his cellphone or a book, he'll simply turn and peck you back before returning to his own activity. It's simple as that - there's no need for thinking, since kissing you is an automatic motion for him at this point.
Makes a big fuss about it just to embarrass you: Jeonghan, Hoshi
"Wait, what? Is my baby clingy today? Do you want some kisses?" plus some infinite cooing and teasing. He won't let you live, especially if you kissed him out of the blue or out of a cute aggression strike you had. After making you a blushing and annoyed mess, he will pepper your face with little kisses, just for good measure. And you can be certain that he'll tease you afterwards for that too!
Blushes a little and pecks you back: Jun, DK
He's slightly taken aback by the kiss, and tries not to show it too much, but his cheeks give away. He thinks a kiss on the cheek is an actual very adorable way of showing affection, and kinda melts if you do it - especially if it's your way of thanking him for something or after a compliment. He will feel a little giddy and probably kiss you back after the startle.
Pretends to be nonchalant but actually feels fuzzy inside: Wonwoo, Woozi, Vernon
As soon as you leave the little unexpected peck on his cheek, he'll look at you with a questioning gaze. He might blurt out "did I do something?" with a restrained smile, but when you shrug and tell him you just wanted to do it, he'll shrug too, eyeing you as if you were weird. Little did you know he's actually melting on the inside with the sudden affection.
Asks for another kiss on the remaining cheek: Seungkwan, Dino
"C'monn, it'll feel lonely!", he'll try to convince you, pointing at his other cheek until you finally relent and give him another kiss. He'll smile, satisfied, and will probably be bashful about it for some moments before resuming whatever he was doing before.
the whole room is dark, except for the faint glow of your phone. you lay in your bed, scrolling through absolutely random trivia reels. cheol's laying beside you, one arm thrown across your waist as he cuddles into the heat of your body. he should have been sound asleep by now. but he's only halfway through there, being pulled back to wake by your questions.
"cheol?"
he hums back, voice thickly layered with sleep.
"what color do you think i am?"
the room turns silent. you wait for a moment.
"cheo-"
"blue. you seem like blue to me."
"why blue?"
"cause, to me, blue means calm, peace, and secure. like i dont have to worry about anything. like i can let down all my thoughts to rest for a while. and you feel like all those things to me."
you just hum back in response, the next question thats displayed on your screen preventing you from thinking over his words.
a minute passes before you ask again, "cheol?"
"...yes, love?"
"what icecream flavour am i?"
a beat passes before he replies, "you're cookies-n-cream. because you're soft and sweet, with a little crunch at times."
you hum yet again, registering his answer.
"plus, its your favourite," he adds, which brings a soft smile to your face.
you turn your attention back to your phone, searching for the next question.
"cheol...?"
"love.... how about we go to sleep now, and i'll answer all your questions tomorrow?" he asks, looking at you with eyes drooping with sleep.
you just smile and nod, turning off your phone and keeping it aside before you get back into bed. as soon as you lay down, seungcheol's quick to snuggle into your side, his face nuzzled into your neck, his breaths tickling you. you take a look at the sleepy man with you before closing your eyes.
.
.
"cheol!"
"yes, my love?
"...i love you."
he doesnt respond immediately, but you feel him smiling into your skin, his breath hitching for the slightest of moments before returning to normal as he mumbles back.
It all began when you noticed tiny things disappearing from your bag; notebooks, charging cables, staplers. You'd get your answer soon enough, but it seems the world enjoys watching you run around in circles.
wc: ~1.4k | contains: Jeonghan x reader, fluff, Jeonghan being a menace in multiple ways
for the @camandemstudios 'a very seventeen christmas' Secret Santa collab!
[a/n]: ring ring, @shuaflix, it's your Secret Santa calling!!! I hope you have fun reading this Alice and I can't wait to hear your thots hehe 🤍 big ty to @highvern for beta-ing and to @amourcheol for coming in clutch with vocabulary when I couldn't think of the phrase for "in full swing" KJNSFKJGNS
masterlist
Five days a week, like clockwork, you kiss your boyfriend as he sleeps in the early hours of the morning, packed and ready to leave for the library to get your work done.
Five days a week, like clockwork, Jeonghan would emerge bleary eyed from the bedroom to the doorway where you’re slipping on your shoes, hugging you for the last time before you have to leave for the day.
Five days a week, like clockwork, you get to the library to set up your things at your desk by the window, with just the right amount of sunlight, not right under the vent, and certainly not by the busy library entrance.
Five days a week, like clockwork, you always seem to neglect to pack a minor need in your bag before leaving, insignificant things like an eraser or a specific charging cable, but annoying just the same.
It didn’t take long before the sneaking suspicion of it all began to creep at your thoughts, but not a single suspect in sight or mind.
You began to pack your bags the night before instead, double checking and leaving it beside the door before retiring for the night. The next day, you shuffle through your bag one more time, at the door right where you left it, before you’re out the door for the day. The mental checklist is all ticked and sorted, and you’re determined you’ve left nothing behind.
Halfway through closing the front door behind you, you hear a distinct call. “Wait!”
Jeonghan opens the door, still half asleep. One of the legs of pyjama pants have ridden up to his knees, the other side, the waistband is dropping below his underwear. Safe to say, he’s frazzled.
He meets you at the threshold, gesturing you to let him hug you before you leave. You speak into his ear as he squeezes you tight. “You don’t have to do this everyday, Han. I promise I’ve never forgotten your good morning kisses, no matter how loud you’re snoring.”
“Hmm,” he hums but it’s more like a whine. “But you’re gonna be gone aaall daaay.”
“You big baby.”
“Kiss,” he demands as he pulls away slightly. You tiptoe and press a kiss onto his lips. He remembers to behave and keep his mouth closed; he knows how much you hate morning breath.
Just as the elevator is about to close, you hear a distinctly sleepy yell of, “And I don’t snore!”
By the time you get to the library, the good mood you’re in is largely unaffected, setting up your things in your usual spot. The hours pass in relative uneventfulness, and you’re glad about it as you return to your desk with a hole punched stack of papers.
Sticking a hand into your bag you attempt to find the box of large binder clips you keep to tie together larger stacks of papers. Your fingers grapple onto everything but what you need, even when you quite literally empty your entire bag onto the table.
Your seatmate, who seems to be in the deep trenches of something mathematical, is not amused.
The tiny blue box is nowhere to be found.
Exhaling heavily, you realise you have to deal with your predicament as it is. The idea of dealing with loose papers is not appealing, but you cannot physically staple the thick pile.
You could’ve sworn you saw the string during your checks the night before, even this morning, right next to your pencil case on the right side of your bag. There’s no holes in your bag, nor have you left your seat to anywhere you couldn’t see it on the desk.
But even as you deal with the loose stack of papers on the desk, attempting to refocus, there’s only one logical explanation left. It’s hard not to scoff.
It’s been a week since you’ve been to the library, the holiday season now in full swing as you retire for the semester.
Christmas mornings with Jeonghan usually turn into Christmas afternoons, taking full advantage of the errand-less day. By the time you do emerge from the den that is your bedroom, the sun is high in the sky, and Jeonghan is in the process of ordering takeout.
There’re boxes under the tree, beside which the both of you seat yourselves as you wait for your food.
You hand him his present, which is flat for the most part. He unwraps the paper and opens the box, only to find a large envelope inside.
Jeonghan laughs, “Does handing me an envelope need to be this elaborate?”
“I can’t wrap an envelope,” you pout.
“Right. Because it’s already wrapped,” he chortles. He rips it open to find yet another piece of paper.
“Medieval dining experience?” Jeonghan reads off the reservation.
“Brick walls, candle lights and everything. Knights with swords too.” His eyes light up as he registers the swords.
When he hands you your present, you note that he has three separate packages next to him.
It’s a polaroid camera, one that you’ve been wanting for a while. However, it looks like it’s already been opened as you take out the camera. He hardly lets you look at it and thank him properly before he’s shoving another box in your direction.
Unwrapping it reveals a scrapbook. Of polaroids. Of Jeonghan’s face. Full of Jeonghan’s face. It’s almost like he ran an entire reel of film dry with the amount of photos in the book.
“Gently used,” Jeonghan provides. “By me.”
It earns him a big fat kiss, so you suppose he succeeded.
But there’s one package left, a slightly bigger box that notably rattles as Jeonghan slides it over to you. “Unofficial present.”
You look justifiably confused. Undoing the wrapping paper, all you hear is things rattling around in the box, and you wonder what it could possibly be.
The box is…a shoebox? The Nike logo glares back at you as you stare. But you don’t recall a pair of shoes ever being this noisy.
Opening it reveals everything. Quite literally, everything.
There’s a white stapler with purple flowers on it, a number of white, hardly used erasers, the distinct coil of a charging cable, and…a tiny blue box. Amongst other things.
Everything that’s mysteriously disappeared from your bag these past months, lies in the shoebox.
“Sorry,” Jeonghan says, but the smile on his face proposes that he’s far from it.
You look at the contents of the box, and then back up at him. This repeats for a few minutes as you gape at the situation.
“W–Why?” You can’t help but release a laugh at the ridiculousness of the ordeal.
Jeonghan shrugs. “I hoped you’d miss your stuff enough to come back home. Or just start studying at home entirely.”
You stare at him as he picks at the tufts of rug beneath him. “You were gone all day. I just missed you.”
He looks up at you, hint of a smile on his face. “I know I said I was sorry, but I’m not really.”
Surging forward, your arms find his neck as you push yourself onto his lap, holding him tight. “Kinda figured you weren’t. It’s okay.”
Letting go, you bring your lips up to his to kiss him, properly. He pulls you closer, his hands firm on your hip and back. His mouth moves against your own, engulfing you in ways beyond just physical touch.
Pulling away for a moment, you mumble against his lips, “Just say you miss me next time.”
Jeonghan smiles against your mouth, “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
It was a strange way to communicate, to let you know to take it easy, to spend more time within his vicinity, because he considered your mere presence near him as spending time with you. Jeonghan didn’t ask for much, as opposed to his nature as it sounded. He was a simple man, who simply wanted time with you.
However, even after the semester resumes, and you leave the house for significantly less stretches of time than before, there are times where your bag suddenly ceases to carry things you’re positive you packed.
But this time, all it evokes is a smile, and a mellow reminder that there’s a warmth of someone’s arms waiting for you.
PAIRING: Woozi idol! x f!reader
GENRE: fluff, relationship
I liked to tease my boyfriend when he was focused on working.
Everyone knows how Jihoon is when it comes to getting down to business.
"Ji, do you think it's a good idea for me to cut my hair?" He loved my long hair.
"Um," I affirmed without even turning around.
"Yeah, I think I'll do it. The other day Mingyu told me I'd look pretty like that." I tried to provoke him to see if he'd pay attention.
"Yeah, sure."
I rolled my eyes, exasperated and huffing.
"You know, I've been seeing Mingyu much more muscular lately. Today I touched his arms and I freaked out." Silence fell, and I waited.
He turned quickly in his chair.
"What?" he said, pouting. I started laughing, and he knew I was joking.
"Stop teasing me, babe," he said, shaking his head but smiling.
I pout at him and complain. He gets up and comes closer to me.
"Come on, make some time for me. I'm going to take a break. Should we order your favorite food?" he asks, already lying next to me with his phone in his hand.
"Yes!" he says happily, jumping on the sofa in his studio.
"You're so silly," he pinches my nose.
I tell him to tell me all about the new songs he's writing while we wait for our food.
I love listening to him tell me everything that's on his big mind, giving me details about everything.
"I don't think people will ever be prepared for everything you are, Ji," I say, looking him seriously in the eyes.
He blushes and just smiles; he's not good at taking compliments. But it's a fact: Jihoon is a great composer; he's always surpassing himself and the music industry, and it infuriates me how little he values himself.
Jihoon is content with the fact that the people he loves like us and that's enough for him and he doesn't know how much we love him for being like that.
Woozi × Reader | Soft angst to comfort | Established relationship
a/n: kinda rushed this, I'll post a "woozi's pov" soon! i didn't know what else to write about hehe. Hope you like it <3
The first time he told you he was scared of love, it wasn’t poetic.
There were no candlelit confessions, no dramatic sighs or confessions whispered into the darkness. It was just him, sitting on the edge of his studio couch, eyes tired, fingers tapping against his knee, and voice soft with exhaustion.
"I don’t want to ruin the one thing I know I’m good at," he said, looking down. "And sometimes, being in love… it feels like I might have to choose."
You were curled up beside him, your legs tucked beneath you, the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from his closet pooling around your arms. You didn’t speak right away. You just looked at him. Not with sadness, or pity, but with understanding.
You knew how much his music meant to him. How it wasn’t just a job, or a dream, but a part of him. It was in the curve of his fingers when they danced across the keyboard. In the way his face softened when he talked about melodies and progressions. In how his eyes lit up when a track finally came together.
He loved music the way the ocean loved the moon—constant, quiet, deep.
So you never asked him to choose.
Not once.
You became a quiet fixture in his life the same way a favorite melody settles into the heart—subtle, warm, permanent.
You didn’t wait for invitations to show up at his studio anymore. You knew the code. You knew when not to disturb him and when to slip in with takeout or coffee and leave it by the desk. Sometimes, you'd fall asleep on the couch while he worked, lulled by the soft echo of bass through the walls. Other times, he'd pause to glance back at you and just… smile.
He didn’t say much, but you always heard him loud and clear.
He'd come home late most nights. Half past midnight, or later. You never complained. Your body adjusted, naturally syncing to the rhythm of his life.
He always found you.
Sometimes asleep on the couch, your phone still open to a playlist you’d made for him. Sometimes curled up in bed, a book resting on your chest. Sometimes awake, waiting for him with a sleepy smile and a bowl of warm soup.
“You’re still up?” he’d ask, voice rough from the night.
“Always,” you’d mumble, arms reaching out instinctively.
He’d melt into your embrace like he’d been holding his breath all day.
It wasn’t always easy.
There were days when you missed him. Days when you felt clingy, or when your fingers hovered over your phone, wondering if it was okay to text again. There were moments of doubt—not in him, but in yourself. Wondering if you were being too much, asking too little, hoping too quietly.
But never, not once, did you think he didn’t love you.
Because Woozi didn’t show love with grand gestures or flowery words. He showed it when he let you into the quietest parts of his world. When he played you unfinished demos and watched your face as you listened. When he started keeping your favorite snacks in the studio fridge. When he kissed your forehead before leaving and whispered, “I'll try not to be too late tonight.”
He loved you the way he loved music—deliberately, deeply, and without distraction.
One night, he came home earlier than usual. You were in the kitchen, making tea, your hair tied up messily, an old hoodie hanging off one shoulder.
He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You leaned back into him without a word.
“I was thinking about what I said. That time in the studio,” he said, voice low against your neck.
You turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.
“I was scared,” he admitted. “I thought love would be a distraction. That it’d take me away from everything I’ve worked for. But it didn’t.”
He paused, then added, “You didn’t.”
Your eyes softened.
“I never wanted you to choose,” you whispered. “I just wanted to be beside you while you chased what you loved.”
He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You are what I love.”
Your breath caught, heart swelling with a warmth that settled into your bones.
He turned you around then, gently, holding your face in both hands. His thumb brushed under your eye, tender.
“I love you” he said. “I love you so much, darling.”
There would still be late nights, and busy seasons, and moments when the world pulled him in different directions.
But no matter how far the music took him, he always came back to you.
And you—soft, patient, unwavering—you were always there. Waiting. Loving him not despite his passion, but because of it. Loving all of him. Even the parts he once feared no one could love properly.
In the silence between his verses, in the breath between your kisses, in the space where love meets purpose—you both found something rare.
Not a love that asks you to choose, but one that lets you have everything.
