Hello ^^ REQUEST ok this is a bit weird and u might not know this idol / trainee (but he shall debut). So basically im not sure if yk but Starship Ent is currently running this kpop surival program called “debuts plan - newkids in starship” and i was wondering if u could write for one of the contestants on the program called Jang Yonghoon. That is if yk the show or r willing to write for him anyway. Ik it might be a bit much cause technically speaking he hasn’t officially debuted yet but i like ur style of writing so ya :)) anything really like maybe cute moments with him , or like bf thoughts / drabble. Idm anything really.
YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS REQUEST IF U DONT KNOW HIM I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND T-T
Cooking with Yonghoon - Short Fic - Request
wc: 361
Genre: 💖 Fluff 💖
It started because you both forgot to eat lunch and were too lazy to order dinner.
Yonghoon was stretched across the couch, flipping through his phone with no real purpose, and you were in the kitchen staring into the fridge like the answers would appear if you looked long enough.
“We could cook,” you called out, already pulling out a pan.
A beat passed before you heard the soft shuffle of his socks against the floor. “Like, actually cook? Or fake cook—like ramen?”
“Real food,” you said, looking over your shoulder with a grin. “But I’m not doing it alone.”
Yonghoon groaned dramatically, but he was already beside you, sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy from how he’d been lying down. He smelled like the clean hoodie he’d thrown on and the faint hint of your laundry detergent from last time he stayed over.
The two of you moved around each other like a slow, clumsy dance—he kept bumping your hip with his, and you kept stealing little bites of whatever he was chopping when he wasn’t looking.
At one point, he caught you mid-bite and flicked a bit of water at your face with a smug little, “Caught you.”
“Okay,” you said, grabbing a wooden spoon like a weapon. “War.”
You didn’t actually hit him, just waved it dramatically while he laughed, hands in the air. The kitchen was a mess—flour on the counter, a trail of sliced garlic that was definitely not meant to be shaped like a heart (but maybe was), and two half-filled bowls of something simmering on the stove.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, he came up behind you, hands settling at your waist, chin lightly resting on your shoulder. You didn’t say anything—just leaned back into him, letting your head bump against his softly.
“I like this,” you said quietly. “Us. Even if we’re about to burn dinner.”
He laughed, breath warm against your neck. “It’s fine. Burnt food tastes better when you’re cute.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Exactly,” he whispered. “Now stir that before I have to pretend I know how.”
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I hope that this is okay and you enjoy…🙏🩷🩷