newworldwritings

[newworldwritings]

unfair nostalgia || song mingi || one-shot

|genre: ex-husband! mingi. ex-wife! reader. angst. |mentions: divorce (mingi and reader). accident. temporary amnesia. seonghwa appearance in this. it mentions a lot of rain-- aftermath of the rain.

summary: After a tragic accident, Mingi's life inexplicably rewinds six years into the past. Believing he is still living in those days, he calls out to you—his ex-wife—convinced that you're still by his side as his partner.

word count: 19.8k

Your days dragged like a snail navigating barbed wire—slow, agonizingly slow and painfully. Each moment felt stretched thin, a painful reminder of the life you used to know. 

Placing your bag down on the couch as you make your way towards the kitchen and pull out the wine from the cabinet. Taking your favorite glass as you returned back to the living room.

Time had lost its meaning, blending one day into the next like an endless gray fog. Tonight was no different. You found yourself perched on the windowsill, a half-filled wine glass balanced between your fingers. The city outside pulsed with its usual rhythm—lights flickering on and off in distant buildings, traffic lights cycling from green to yellow to red and back again. It was all so mindlessly repetitive, yet you sat there, watching as if the monotony might somehow offer solace.

But it never did.

Your eyes, hollow and unfocused, stayed fixed on the scene outside as you took another slow sip. The wine, bitter and stale, barely registered on your tongue. This nightly ritual had become an empty habit—a way to pass the hours until sleep claimed you. Most nights, you didn’t even finish the glass before slipping into bed, leaving it abandoned on the windowsill like an afterthought.

Tonight was no exception. With a sigh that felt heavy in your chest, downing the last bits of your wine before you stood and shuffled to the kitchen. The sound of running water echoed in the quiet as you rinsed the glass, the coldness of the tap biting at your fingertips. It was only as you placed it on the drying rack that you heard it—the shrill, invasive ring of your phone coming from the bedroom.

Your head snapped toward the sound, your brows knitting together in faint confusion. Phone calls this late were rare, and never good. Reminding you of what happened six years ago. A simple sigh, still, you dried your hands on your pants as you made your way to the nightstand. Titling your head to read the caller.

Unknown number.

Your stomach twisted, a subtle unease creeping into your chest. With a hesitant swipe, you answered, lifting the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

Your voice sounded foreign to you—raspy, unused, and weary.

"Is this Mrs. Song?"

The words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you froze, the air in your lungs turning cold. You blink several times, clearing your throat in the process. "You must have the wrong number," you said quickly, your voice tight. "Look, I’m not in the mood—"

"Is this number 010242018?"

A chill ran down your spine. Your heart stuttered, then picked up in an erratic rhythm. "Yes... Yes, that’s my number. Who is this?" There was a pause, a moment heavy with something you couldn’t quite name—comforting, desperate, yet utterly unsettling.

"I’m sorry for the sudden call, ma’am, but we’d like to formally address this at Medic Hospital."

Your breath caught. The glassy haze of your evening shattered as your mind raced. "What? What happened? Who’s hurt?"

"One of our patients woke up just today and is asking for you. They gave us your name and number."

For a brief moment, you considered ending the call—brushing it off as a mistake or a cruel prank. But something in the caller’s tone, in the way your name had been spoken, compelled you to stay on the line.

"Who is it?" Your voice wavered, your grip on the phone tightening. 

The answer came, cutting through the air like a blade, regret washes over you as soon as you heard who it was.

"Song Mingi. He said you’re his wife."

The words slammed into you, knocking the breath from your chest. Your knees felt weak, your stomach churning as if the ground had fallen out from under you. The name that haunted your dreams, the one that turned your days into an endless loop of heartbreak, was suddenly back—alive and demanding your attention.

And just like that, the numbness shattered, leaving only the raw ache of everything you had lost.

You could have told the caller that you were no longer his wife—ex-wife, to be precise. That he had remarried and moved on, leaving behind the pieces of what once was. It would have been easier, cleaner—a way to shield yourself from the storm of heartbreak you knew was waiting to engulf you.

You could have told them to call someone else his best friend since middle school, or band mates, his family—anyone who had more right than you to be by his side now. 

But you didn’t.

Somewhere between the logical protests of your mind and the aching emptiness in your chest, your body betrayed you. Your feet moved, your heart thudded, and your brain chose silence over sense. Before you knew it, you were standing at the hospital’s reception desk, a name on your lips that felt foreign and bitter, like a taste you hadn’t revisited in years.

“Song Mingi,” you murmured, the syllables trembling as if they carried the weight of every sleepless night and unspoken thought. The name that brought has opened so many wounds that you have soullessly stitched back, how many times you closed your eyes and his crescent smile appeared before you, and the amount of tears you’ve cried silently that night he decided to step out of the door. Without looking back.

The nurse at the desk looked up, her face a mixture of concern and relief. She exchanged a glance with the doctor beside her before both of them rose to meet you.

“Mrs. Song…”

The title hit you like a knife, sharp and precise, cutting through whatever composure you had managed to muster. You raised a hand quickly, shaking your head as if to ward off the name. “No. No, that’s not me. I’m just… I’m just a friend.” The words felt heavy, a weak shield against the truth pressing against your ribs. “Call me Tulip.”

The nurse’s brows furrowed, glancing at the doctor as if silently questioning your response. But she didn’t pry. Instead, she nodded and gestured for you to follow.

“Let’s discuss the situation in my office, Miss Tulip,” she said, her voice calm and professional.

You followed her through the sterile hallways, your pulse pounding in your ears with every step. The name you’d chosen—Tulip—felt like a flimsy mask, a desperate attempt to separate the person you were now from the woman you had been when the name Mrs. Song was yours.

But no matter how hard you tried, the memories surged forward.

Each step toward the nurse’s office felt heavier, as if the weight of the past was dragging you down. And yet, some stubborn part of you carried on, pushing through the pain, the questions, and the overwhelming sense of dread.

Because no matter how much it hurt, you had to know.

“…So, he’s suffering from retrograde amnesia due to the impact on his brain, and his memory only stretches back to six years ago?” you repeated, your voice strained with disbelief.

The doctor nodded, adjusting her computer screen to show you the MRI results alongside the CT scan evaluation. The bright, clinical display only deepened the pit forming in your stomach.

“What about his…” The words clawed at your throat, desperate to escape yet refusing to form. Your lips parted, trembling as if even uttering the phrase would break you further. The doctor, noticing your visible struggle, finished the sentence for you, her tone gentle but firm, “His wife is still unconscious. There’s no telling when—or if—she will wake up, unlike Mr. Song.”

The room felt like it had shifted, tilting slightly, leaving you grasping for something to steady yourself. That word—wife—hit you like a punch to the gut, sharp and unrelenting. You blinked rapidly, your throat tightening as you tried to suppress the surge of emotions rising within you. 

“I see,” you finally muttered, your voice hoarse and barely audible. The phrase was hollow, void of meaning, as if saying it would distance you from the gravity of the situation.

The doctor continued to watch you carefully, her face a mask of professional composure, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of sympathy. But no amount of sympathy could soften the blow or untangle the knots forming in your chest. Unconscious. His wife. You swallowed hard, the bitter taste of those words lingering on your tongue, a cruel reminder of the distance between what once was and what could never be again.

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your forehead as the weight of the situation bore down on you. “Do his parents know about this…” You waved your hand in a circular motion, grasping for the right word. “…mess?”

The doctor let out a weary sigh, leaning back in her chair. “Yes. His parents are fully aware. They’ve asked if it would aid Mr. Song’s recovery to stay with someone familiar—someone who might help stabilize his sense of self until his memory returns.”

Your brow furrowed, and you crossed your arms, a clear ‘what-does-that-have-to-do-with-me’ expression etched on your face. Silence filled the room, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the hospital’s fluorescent lights.

The doctor took another measured breath, removing her glasses and setting them on the desk. Her eyes met yours with a seriousness that made your chest tighten. “While it’s true that his memory loss is temporary, there’s something else you need to know.”

The pause stretched uncomfortably long, and you felt the air shift—the kind of moment where you instinctively knew what was coming but still prayed you were wrong.

“He could stay with his family, it is every patient's right to choose and that would be more than enough for his recovery,” she continued, her tone careful. “But Mr. Song…” She hesitated, as though the next words would solidify an irreversible reality. “…has specifically requested to stay with you. He acknowledges his parents but insists that he needs you. His wife.”

Your heart lurched violently at the word, an invisible dagger twisting in a wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

“No,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. You clenched your fists, knuckles whitening as you tried to ground yourself. “That’s a mistake. He…he knows I’m not…” You trailed off, the word wife too bitter to say out loud.

The doctor’s gaze didn’t waver. “To him, you still are. His memory hasn’t reached the point where he remembers anything beyond that.”

You felt like the walls were closing in, the carefully constructed defenses around your heart beginning to crumble. The reality of his condition pressed against your chest, suffocating, as the doctor’s words echoed in your mind.

‘He still thinks I’m his wife.’

A low groan escaped your lips as your hands tangled in your hair, the frustration clawing its way to the surface. You had every right to feel this way. Six years ago, life had been entirely different. Six years ago, you and Mingi were a newly married couple, barely a month into your union. It was the first year of 2019, and you both believed tying the knot of a new year would make it all the more special—a symbolic start to a lifetime of shared milestones and growing together.

The memories came rushing back, unbidden and relentless. The dates that turned into adventures, the quiet evenings spent in each other's arms, and the tender, intimate moments that spoke of love deeper than words could ever convey. All of it played out like scenes from a movie you couldn't pause, set within the walls of the house he bought for both of you—a house meant to hold your dreams, your laughter, and your forever.

Now, here you were, forced to relive it all, the continuation of your adventure begins on the month of your marriage and throughout the years left such significant memories to the both of you. Every moment, every memory, was like a jagged shard piercing through the fragile layers of healing you'd painstakingly built over the years. The metaphorical scab that had formed over your wound was being peeled away, piece by agonizing piece, leaving the pain raw and exposed once more.

Your chest tightened as the weight of it bore down on you. How could something so beautiful, so filled with love, now feel like a ghost haunting you with the echoes of what you’d lost?

DAY 1:

The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped inside your small apartment, your movements heavy, like an anchor tied to your ankle. You flipped on the lights, the soft glow illuminating the modest yet warm space. Stepping aside, you gestured Mingi in, giving him room to take in his surroundings.

He lingered in the entryway, his eyes darting around the room. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he noted the simplicity of it all—cozy, unassuming, you. Yet, beneath the surface, his heart twisted, a subtle ache he couldn’t place.

“It’s… nice,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping across the room once more. His steps faltered when he realized what was missing. The walls were bare, the shelves sparsely decorated. No framed pictures of you and him. Not a single trace of the life you had built together.

His heart sank, and a small pout formed on his lips. “Did we move?” His voice carried a hint of sadness, as though the realization was too heavy to mask. You froze for a moment, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. Turning to face him, you forced a casual smile. “Yeah,” you lied smoothly, though your voice wavered slightly. “Yeah, we did. Work, you know? I had to relocate to be closer to the office. I’m still… in the process of unpacking.”

His brows furrowed, his head tilting slightly, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded, a faint shadow of disappointment crossing his face. “Oh… okay.”

The weight of his gaze followed you as you busied yourself preparing a snack. It wasn’t just the lie that gnawed at you—it was the memories. The house he had bought for both of you, the home that once felt like a sanctuary, now a distant, painful echo of what could have been.

Placing the snacks on the table, you glanced at him. He sat on the couch, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his fingers grazing the armrest absentmindedly. It was as if he was searching for a comfort he couldn’t find. You sat across from him, handing him a glass of water. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, sending a familiar warmth through your skin. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quiet yet sincere.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, your tone light, masking the storm raging inside you. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, searching for answers you weren’t ready to give.You focused on the small moment—sharing a quiet snack, pretending the weight of the past wasn’t suffocating both of you. It was all you could do to hold it together.

A thought hit you like a freight train once you offered to clean up (even though Mingi insisted). You only had a week. A week to help him recover, to guide him through this fragile state. After that, if it felt too much on your plate, his family would step in, as they had promised during that difficult phone call. They had been kind, their gratitude genuine, despite the invisible scars you bore from the past.

The understanding that this arrangement was temporary didn’t bring relief. It only deepened the ache in your chest. 

That night marked the beginning of something fragile and undefined—day one.

You had already marinated some pork earlier, intending to have your usual samgyeopsal for dinner, the plans for yourself were last minute change on the sudden changes of event. But knowing how your landlord frowned upon cooking indoors, you decided to take everything up to the rooftop. The cool evening air would help clear your head, or so you hoped.

Mingi, ever the helpful presence, joined you in setting up. His broad hands moved with a quiet purpose as he arranged the small table and chairs beneath the soft glow of the hanging orange bulbs strung across the rooftop. The lights swayed gently in the night breeze, casting warm shadows across the space.

You took charge of the grill, laying strips of marinated pork neatly across the metal grate. Now, the pork sizzled on the grill as you placed the strips carefully next to each other. The faint crackle of fat meeting flame broke the silence, and you used a hand fan to coax the fire higher, the smell of smoky marinade already making your stomach grumble.

Behind you, Mingi moved with quiet determination. You heard the faint click of a portable speaker, and a soft melody filled the air, one that sent a shiver down your spine. It was that song. The notes carried a haunting familiarity, weaving through the moment like a thread tying you both to a time when things were simpler, happier. Your breath hitched, and for a second, the world felt suspended.

Before you could turn around to glance at Mingi, warmth enveloped you—a strong arm wrapping securely around your waist. Your heart skipped a beat as his touch pulled you back into the present.

“Careful,” Mingi murmured, his voice low and steady, as though grounding you. He was close enough that you felt the faint rumble of his words against your back. His other hand lightly grasped your wrist, stilling the fan in your hand. Your mind is clawing at you as the thought of you have to share some dinners with Mingi, cook breakfast with him— and most painfully of all, to reminisce some memories with him.

You froze, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest like a vice. The music played on, and instinctively, he began to sway, guiding you with an ease that mirrored the rhythm of the song. It was a move from the past—a small, almost imperceptible dance you once shared under different circumstances. His grip on your waist was steady yet hesitant, as though testing boundaries he didn’t quite remember crossing before.

And just like that, the melody pulled you back—back to a morning that now felt like another lifetime.

You could almost see it, the hazy sunlight spilling through the kitchen window, warm against the wooden floor. The smell of fresh coffee and burnt toast lingered in the air, remnants of an overly ambitious breakfast attempt.

Mingi had been there, standing behind you as you flipped pancakes with clumsy precision. The ache of the night before still lingered in your muscles, and in between your legs—a pleasant reminder of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. His arms had wrapped around your waist then, too, steadying you as you nearly dropped the spatula.

“You’re gonna burn them if you keep flipping like that,” he teased, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“And you’re distracting me,” you’d replied, though there was no bite to your words. Instead, you let yourself lean into him, the rise and fall of his chest against your back grounding you. When he swayed you gently in the kitchen, humming the very same song now playing on the rooftop, you laughed, swatting at him with the spatula. “Mingi, stop. The pancakes—”

“Pancakes can wait,” he interrupted, spinning you around to face him. “This? This is more important.”

The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Back on the rooftop, Mingi swayed to the music, guiding you with an ease that mirrored the rhythm of the song. His grip on your waist was steady yet hesitant, as though testing boundaries he didn’t quite remember crossing before. The orange glow of the bulbs cast flickering shadows on the rooftop floor, painting the moment with a bittersweet intimacy. You could feel his breath, warm against your neck, as he whispered softly, “This song… it feels important.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest swelling as you managed a faint nod. “It is,” you replied, your voice barely audible over the hum of the music.

In that instant, it was as if time folded in on itself—past and present colliding in the tender pull of his arms and the bittersweet chords of a melody neither of you could forget.

That night, you lay awake. 

How could you forget? Of all things, how could you forget that your tiny apartment only had one master bedroom? It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent months adjusting to the space—living alone, needing only one bed. Yet, here you were, stuck with the reality that you’d now have to share it with Mingi. Now, the prospect of sharing the bed with Mingi felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows that danced eerily on the walls. You could hear the faint hum of city life outside, a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. Every creak and sigh of the building seemed amplified in the silence of the night, echoing the unease that gnawed at your thoughts.

The soft rustle of sheets beside you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. You turned to glance at Mingi, who was already asleep beside you. His presence was both comforting and suffocating. Memories of your past life together flickered through your mind—late-night conversations, shared dreams, the warmth of his embrace. Each recollection was a double-edged sword, bringing both solace and pain.

You glanced at the edge of the bed, contemplating if you could somehow sleep on the floor instead. The idea quickly felt absurd. You were already here, tucked under the same blanket, with no way out. Your heart pounded in your ears as you lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Mingi suddenly murmured something, his voice low and muffled. Your breath hitched as you turned your head slightly to look at him. He was still asleep, his expression soft, almost boyish in the dim light of the bedside lamp. 

You reached out, your hand trembling as it brushed against his arm. The contact sent a jolt through your system, awakening a longing you had tried so hard to suppress. You pulled your hand back, staring at your own reflection in the mirror across the room. The person looking back at you seemed distant, hollow, as if the vibrant spark that once defined you had dimmed. It has always since the beginning.

Sleep felt like an elusive sanctuary, slipping further away with each passing minute. You buried deeper into the pillow, hoping to drown out the thoughts that refused to let you rest. But even in the darkness, the memories lingered—fragments of laughter, whispers of love, the promise of a future that now seemed like a fragile illusion.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared into the void.

Your mind raced with questions and fears. How could you help someone you barely understood anymore? How could you navigate the delicate balance between compassion and self-preservation, when every moment with him felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss of unresolved emotions?

The night stretched on, each hour dragging longer than the last. The minutes seemed to crawl, each second a testament to the fragility of your existence. You lay there, torn between the desire to protect him and the fear of losing yourself in the process.

Then he whispered again, and your heart stopped. 

“...Tulip,” he said, your name slipping from his lips like it belonged there.

You froze, the sound of his voice stirring something deep inside you. He hadn’t called you that in years, not since—

You shook your head, willing yourself to forget. This was all temporary. Just a week. That’s all you had to endure. 

Turning onto your side, you faced away from him, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. But the heat of his presence, the steady sound of his breathing, and the lingering echo of your name in his voice made sleep feel impossibly far away.

As dawn's first light began to seep through the curtains, you remained wide awake, staring into the new day that mirrored the uncertainty of your heart. The challenges ahead loomed large, but so did the remnants of a love that refused to fade entirely. In that fragile balance, you found a sliver of hope—a determination to navigate the storm, no matter how tumultuous the journey ahead might be.

DAY 2:

When the morning sun peeked through the curtains of your room, it painted the space with a soft, golden glow. The warmth did little to chase away the exhaustion clinging to your body, but you stretched anyway, muscles protesting against the motion.

As the blanket pooled around your lap, your gaze drifted to the figure lying beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as familiarity tugged at your heartstrings. His lips were slightly pursed in a soft pout, his hands curled into loose fists beneath the pillow. For a moment, he looked untouched by the weight of the past, his broad shoulders free of burdens.

A quiet sigh escaped you as you gently pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around his ears, recalling his playful complaints about waking up with frozen ears. "They'll fall off," he'd grumble dramatically, drawing a reluctant smile from you.

Slipping on your fluffy slippers, you padded toward the kitchen. The clink of utensils and the scent of pancakes filled the air as you worked, each flip of the spatula grounding you in the present. But the familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind you, accompanied by the deep rasp of his morning voice.

“‘Morning, love,” he murmured, and your heart stuttered at the endearment. The grip on your spatula tightened, anchoring you back to reality. You glanced over your shoulder, offering him a small, hesitant smile. “M-Morning, Min… Mingi.”

The words felt foreign, a mix of old habits and new hesitations. You could almost smack yourself for the stumble, but he didn’t seem to notice, his expression easy and warm.

You served the pancakes in silence, the clatter of plates and the scrape of chairs filling the space. “Thank you,” he said, flashing you a grin before diving into his breakfast with his usual unhurried pace.

You couldn’t help but watch, your own plate long emptied, as he savored each bite. His methodical movements were endearing—a rhythm you had once known by heart. With your coffee cup cradled in your hands, now cool and untouched, you let the quiet moments of the morning settle over you. The hum of the ceiling fan blended with the occasional scrape of his fork against the plate. But the tranquility wasn’t enough to keep the exhaustion at bay. Your eyelids grew heavy, last night’s restlessness catching up to you.

As your head began to nod, you jolted awake, your coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

“You okay?” Mingi’s voice broke through the haze, his fork pausing mid-air as he looked at you with concern. You forced a smile, shaking off the lingering fog. “Yeah, I just didn’t sleep much,” you admitted softly.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer than necessary, before nodding. The unspoken understanding in his gaze was both comforting and bittersweet, a reminder of the connection you once shared and the fragile peace of the moment.

“Figured,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his tone laced with quiet concern. “You kept tossing and turning. Something bothering you?”

You blinked, heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks. Of course, he’d noticed—how could he not when you’d been forced to share the same bed? The situation felt both inescapable and unbearably awkward, every shared breath and subtle movement magnified in the silence of the night.

Your mouth opened, but the words refused to come, faltering under the weight of your swirling thoughts. "It’s been… a while, you know," you finally managed, the words stumbling out clumsily. “You’ve been in the hospital for weeks, and… yeah.” You trailed off, internally cringing at your own awkwardness, your attempt to downplay the turmoil inside you.

He nodded, his gaze softening with something that looked like understanding. Before you could process it, his hand reached out, enveloping yours in a firm but gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, his voice low and heavy with sincerity.

Your breath hitched, the air in your lungs freezing as the word love echoed in your mind. That nickname—it was a relic of your past, a tender reminder of a time when everything felt whole and simple. But now, it was a cruel specter, dragging you back into memories you weren’t ready to face.

The pressure of his hand on yours felt like a burning weight, and the rising tide of anxiety threatened to engulf you. The doctor’s words surfaced unbidden, sharp and unrelenting: Mingi and his wife, their second anniversary, the plans for a getaway in the east province that had been violently interrupted by the highway accident. The knowledge clawed at you, tearing open wounds you thought had scarred over.

“I’ll clean up,” you blurted out, your voice tight as you pulled your hand away, retreating before the walls you’d carefully constructed crumbled entirely. You stood abruptly, gathering the plates in a hurried attempt to escape the suffocating moment.

Mingi was taken back by your actions but Mingi also stood up. “Nope. Sit.” He gently but firmly took the plates from your hands, his expression leaving no room for argument. “You cooked. I’ll handle this.”

“It’s really fine—”

He turned to give you a pointed look, one that felt too much like the old Mingi, the one who had always insisted on splitting chores despite your protests. “Sit,” he repeated, softer this time. You relented, sinking back into your chair as he moved to the sink. Watching him was surreal—his movements so natural, as though he belonged in this space, as though nothing had changed.

He rolled up his sleeves, his tall frame somehow managing to make your tiny kitchen seem even smaller. The sound of running water and clinking dishes filled the room, a strangely domestic symphony that stirred something bittersweet inside you. The gentle clatter of dishes being washed filled the kitchen, a sound so familiar it tugged at your chest like a forgotten melody.

Mingi was a whirlwind of unconscious domesticity—moving with an ease that made it painfully clear he didn’t just fit into this space. He fits into your life. 

It felt wrong. It felt right.

You rested your chin on your hand, observing him. The way he washed each dish with precision, the way he hummed a tune you recognized as one of his favorites, the way he smiled to himself when he caught you staring—it was all so familiar. And yet, the reality of your situation hung heavy in the air. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know that every swipe of the dishcloth brought memories flooding back. The mornings you spent together, him insisting on cleaning up while you teased him about his overly meticulous ways. The playful arguments about who made the better breakfast. The laughter, the love, the heartbreak that followed.

He didn’t remember the arguments, the pain, the long nights spent trying to piece together a marriage that had already fractured. All he knew was the version of you that existed in his mind six years ago, the version he still believed was his wife.

And the happily new married life he is in.

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup as the weight of it all pressed down on you. Of all the people he could have chosen to stay with during his recovery, why did it have to be you? The ex-wife he didn’t even remember leaving behind.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring, and his face lit up with a grin so pure, it almost made you forget how this all ended the first time.

“What?” he asked, drying his hands on a dish towel.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, averting your gaze.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he teased, leaning against the counter. You forced a laugh, the sound hollow even to your own ears. “Guess I’m out of practice.”

Mingi shrugged, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you. He surveyed the kitchen again, his eyes lingering on the bare walls and countertops. “You’ve really changed things up, huh?”

You tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Just... it doesn’t feel like us, you know?” He gestured around the room, his expression a mix of confusion and longing. “Where are all the pictures? The ones from our trip to Jeju? Or the goofy ones we took on your birthday?”

You scrambled for an explanation, your heart pounding. “I... uh, have asked Seonghwa to come and bring it from your—our house,” you lied, forcing a laugh. 

Mingi nodded, accepting your answer without question. “Well, don’t take too long. This place could use a bit of ‘us’ again.” The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, his words hit you like a freight train, and you had to look away. The difference of “us” is where the fights, the sleepless nights, the way you both unraveled until there was nothing left to hold onto unlike his is somewhere you guess is full of happiness and affection.

As he left the kitchen, whistling a tune, you exhaled shakily. Sharing your apartment with Mingi felt like stepping into a dream and a nightmare all at once—a cruel trick of fate that blurred the lines between the past and the present. Your hand trembled as you set the coffee cup down, the weight of the past and present colliding in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

So when the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city streets. The day had been a whirlwind, filled with moments that teetered between awkward and oddly nostalgic. You barely had time to process any of it when Mingi, with his boyish grin and an eagerness that made your heart ache, suggested dinner at a noodle shop.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. “Why? I mean, I can cook for you—”

He raised a hand, halting your words mid-sentence with a gentle but firm gesture. “You’ve already cooked for me twice today. Why not let me treat you for a change?” He reached for your jacket, draped over the rack, and held it out to you.

You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. It had been a long time since you’d gone out—especially with him. The idea felt foreign, almost surreal.

“I—”

Before you could finish, he sighed, crossing the room to where you sat on the couch. He eased himself down beside you, the sudden proximity causing a jolt of heat to rush through your body. His warmth seeped into the small space between you, igniting a flush that climbed up your neck and settled in your ears.

“Take it as a date,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a playful charm that only made your pulse quicken. “For all the days I missed while I was in the hospital. What do you say, love?”

The nickname cut through your resolve like a whisper of the past, stirring emotions you’d worked hard to bury. Your mind raced with possibilities, weighed down by the unfairness of reliving memories you hadn’t asked to revisit. Was this wise? Could your heart withstand the bittersweet sting of nostalgia?

But when your gaze met his, every carefully constructed barrier began to waver. His eyes held the same spark you remembered—curiosity mingled with unspoken hope, as though he had just stumbled upon something new and couldn’t wait to share it with you. And then there was that smile, the one that always had the power to unravel your overthinking.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you felt your body relax against your better judgment. The battle between your heart and mind ended with a truce neither was happy about.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the past seemed to lift, leaving only the quiet promise of a single evening.

When Mingi said that he wanted to try some noodles that he just saw some streets up where you both passed yesterday, you weren’t expecting it would be some other ramen house. 

Not just any noodle shop—Home Ramen House.

The ramen house that you and Mingi frequently go to whenever he feels like it. You hesitated, the weight of the memories tied to that place pulling at you. But his excitement was contagious, and before you knew it, you were sitting across from him in the cozy little corner booth you both used to claim as your own. Mingi scanned the menu, his eyes lighting up as though discovering it for the first time. “We’ll have the spicy seafood ramen and the dumplings,” he told the waiter, his voice filled with conviction. You blinked, startled.

It was second nature to him, a detail woven so deeply into his muscle memory that he hadn’t even realized it. The smell of broth wafted through the air, stirring emotions you had buried long ago. As the waiter brought out steaming bowls of noodles and a plate of golden-brown dumplings, the atmosphere shifted. The familiar clatter of chopsticks, the hum of quiet conversation from nearby tables, the way the condensation on the glasses trickled down—it all felt like stepping into a memory.

Mingi leaned forward, inhaling the aroma with a satisfied sigh. “This smells amazing,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that way that used to make your heart skip.

You nodded, stirring your noodles absentmindedly. “It does,” you murmured, trying to focus on the present. The first bite was pure nostalgia. The flavors exploded on your tongue, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. Mingi noticed, grinning triumphantly. “Glad you still love spicy ramens after you let me sleep on the couch for a week.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Indeed it was true, it was the first time you tasted spicy food and it took you a lot of milk to calm down your tongue that was numb from the intense spice in it. Because of the influence of Mingi and him laughing at your red face, which he thought is cute, you told him to sleep on the couch. 

Conversation flowed easily, much to your surprise. He talked about the food, his thoughts on the day. You found yourself laughing at his terrible joke about dumplings being “wrapped gifts for your stomach,” despite the ache in your chest.

You had been too focused on picking up a particularly slippery noodle, and a rogue strand of sauce had made its way onto your cheek. Mingi notices it and chuckles, without missing a beat, Mingi reaches across the table, napkin in hand. “Hold still,” he said softly, dabbing at the spot.

The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it left you momentarily breathless.

His fingers lingered for just a second too long, and you caught his eyes—warm, familiar, and filled with a fondness that felt achingly real. Your pulse quickened, and you quickly turned your attention back to your bowl, muttering a quiet “thanks.”

As the meal went on, you couldn’t shake the sensation of déjà vu. The way he teased you for eating too fast, the way you both reached for the last dumpling at the same time, the shared laughter—it was all too much and not enough, all at once.

When the bill arrived, Mingi grabbed it before you could protest, his lips curling into that familiar playful grin. “I’m your husband,” he said, his tone light but laced with a deeper emotion you couldn’t quite place. “I should be treating you to the greatest things in life.” He added a playful wink that made you roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice lingered, disarming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Deep down, it was almost too much—the familiarity of the moment, the ease with which he slipped back into old habits. It felt like walking into a dream you knew would shatter the moment you woke up.

As you stepped out into the crisp night air, the world seemed quieter, the stars scattered above like a tapestry of fragile hope. Mingi tilted his head up, his hands buried in his pockets. The glow of the restaurant’s lights illuminated his face, softening the lines of worry and regret you had grown used to seeing since his accident.

“This feels nice,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of wonder, as if he were rediscovering something long forgotten. “Like I’ve found something I didn’t know I lost.”

His words pierced through the fragile walls you had built around your heart. You bit your lip, the ache in your chest swelling.

You did.

It was a truth you couldn’t say out loud, one you weren’t sure you were ready to admit even to yourself. Yet in the stillness of that moment, it hung in the air between you—unspoken but undeniable.

DAY 3:

The day began like any other—quiet, unassuming, and unremarkable. You woke early, your mind preoccupied with a client meeting about revisions to a blueprint. The sharp scratch of your pen against paper and the hum of your laptop filled the air as you scribbled down notes, entirely absorbed in the task.

The faint clink of porcelain pulled your attention. A steaming mug appeared beside you, its rich aroma filling the room. Startled, you looked up to see Mingi, holding his own coffee and offering a soft, familiar smile.

“Have a coffee first, love,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to your busy thoughts.

You took the mug, fingers brushing his briefly, and nodded your thanks. The nickname rolled off his tongue effortlessly now, as if no time had passed since he last used it so freely. It wasn’t just the words, though—it was the way he said them, laced with warmth and something deeper, something unspoken.

But the kisses? Those you hadn’t quite grown used to.

There was the time, just last week, when you’d been rushing around before a meeting, juggling your bag, phone, and scattered papers. Mingi had stepped into your chaos like an anchor, hands firm on your shoulders as he steadied you. He’d kissed your forehead so gently, it left you stunned. Without a word, he handed you a brown bag of snacks and ushered you to the car, driving you to work while you sat in quiet disbelief, his thoughtfulness lingering far longer than the ride.

Now, as he left a kiss on the crown of your head and stepped out of the room, your heart did what it always seemed to do around him these days—it stumbled, tripping over feelings you weren’t ready to name.

Yet, beneath the warmth that spread through your chest, a shadow loomed. With a soft sigh, you returned back to your work.

Later, when your meeting concluded, you found yourself sprawled on the couch, half-laying and half-sitting, as Mingi flipped through Disney+. He eventually settled on an Avengers marathon. The easy camaraderie, the quiet moments together—it felt so natural, so right.

And so unfamiliar.

Just as the movie’s opening credits rolled, a knock at the door echoes. Both of you turned toward the sound simultaneously, like startled meerkats. Mingi paused the movie and moved toward the small monitor connected to the doorbell cam. 

“Oh, it’s Seonghwa-hyung,” he announced. Your ears perked up. The memory of your impulsive request to Seonghwa came rushing back. After Mingi had offhandedly mentioned that the apartment did not feel like “ours,” you’d acted on instinct, reaching out to your best friend and asking him to retrieve a box of old photos from your attic.

The door opened, and there he was—Seonghwa, effortlessly chic as always, with his silver hair and the familiar box in his hands.

“Hey, babe!” he greeted, his grin infectious as he breezed in. You smiled back, leaning in for air kisses before he set the box on the coffee table.

“I’d stay and catch you up on all the office gossip,” he said, glancing at his watch, “but my baby mama’s in the ER—she’s about to give birth!”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, Seonghwa! Go, go, go!”

He chuckled, pulling you into a quick hug before turning to Mingi with a firm handshake and a knowing smile. As you walked him to the door, he shot you a look—one filled with silent understanding and something unspoken. As you walk Seonghwa to the door, Mingi had caught Seonghwa’s knowing look given to you before he left. 

The moment Seonghwa was gone, the apartment felt quieter, but in a strangely comforting way.

You turn around with a small smile on your lips, “Well the picture is here, let’s get started?” Mingi had helped you hang up the picture frames, most of them old photos of trips they had taken together. Mingi holding each of the frames made his hand tremble for no reason or that one reason why he suddenly had a flashback of where the same photo shattered on the ground, glass shards glinting like jagged tears in the sunlight. The arguments. The silences. The distance.

“Mingi, you okay?” Your voice, soft with concern, broke through the haze. He blinked, snapping back to the present. Forcing a smile, he nodded and placed the frame on the shelf. “Of course, love,” he said gently.

But you saw it—the flicker of something unresolved in his eyes. A shadow of a past neither of you dared to name but both still carried. You didn’t press him, though. Instead, you continued working side by side, filling the quiet with small, easy conversations. The unspoken truths could wait for another day. For now, this—rebuilding, frame by frame—was enough.

The golden afternoon light filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. You were curled up on the couch beside Mingi, your head resting against his broad shoulder, the toll of the early morning meeting plus the small clean up around the apartment made you tired. 

The lingering hum of your morning on-call meeting still played faintly in his mind. He had watched you work earlier, eyes fixed on your focused expression as you scribbled notes and responded to clients, your determination unwavering even through the early hours. Now, it was just the two of you, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The world outside felt distant, irrelevant, as if it had been locked away somewhere far beyond the safety of your small apartment.

The silence between you wasn’t heavy. It was peaceful, almost sacred.

Beside you, Mingi shifted slightly. His fingers reached out, adjusting a photo frame on the coffee table without thinking. His gaze lingered on it—a snapshot of laughter frozen in time—before wandering toward the bookshelf by the window. The sight of the cluttered shelves, books stacked without rhyme or reason, brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips. Some of those books he recognized as ones you’d read until the pages frayed; others were strangers to him, spines barely creased.

Then, like a wave crashing without warning, the memory hit him.

The bookstore.

His hand froze, mid-movement, gripping the edge of the couch as the vivid recollection unfolded in his mind. He could feel the chill of that rain-soaked day, the dampness clinging to his skin as you guided him through the streets after picking him up from the hospital. The weight of the moment had pressed heavy on his chest—uncertainty, exhaustion, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

You had found refuge in that tiny, unassuming bookstore. Its wooden shelves lined with worn books and the comforting smell of paper and ink offered a sanctuary neither of you had expected. You’d both lingered there, surrounded by stories belonging to others, as if searching for something in the words you didn’t yet know how to say to each other.

The memory of your hand reaching for his, tentative and warm, surfaced with startling clarity. It was a touch that had pulled him out of his own head, grounding him in the present, in you.

“Hey,” your voice now pulled him back to the room, gentle and curious. He blinked, his grip on the couch loosening as he turned to look at you. The concern in your eyes was subtle but unmistakable. You always seemed to notice when he drifted too far into himself, and for that, he was endlessly grateful.

“Just remembering something,” he murmured, his voice low but steady.

Your head tilted slightly, an invitation for him to share if he wanted to. He didn’t, not yet, but the way you leaned into him, your warmth so close, was enough to soothe the tightness in his chest.

The photo frame sat untouched on the table, a silent witness to the weight of the past and the fragile beauty of the present.

The memory of the rain, the bookstore, and your hand in his still lingered, but now, it felt less heavy. It wasn’t just a memory of pain anymore—it was one of quiet strength, of a moment where everything else had fallen away except for the two of you, finding your way back to each other in the most unexpected places.

Mingi sighed, his hand settling lightly over yours. “Thanks for being here,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your skin in an unspoken promise. The quiet sincerity in his voice hung between you, tangible and real.

Your eyes fell to his hand resting on yours, tracing the way his fingers seemed to fit so naturally. Without thinking, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. The warmth of your touch sent a flutter through him, “Thank you for letting me stay,” an inexplicable yet familiar feeling, like a forgotten piece of a puzzle finally sliding into place.

For a moment, the world seemed to shift, the sunlight filtering through the window growing softer, warmer, as if the connection between you had become the room’s very heartbeat. Quiet. Steady. Unbreakable.

And yet, beneath the tranquility, a faint ache lingered.

Why did he feel like something was missing?

“Do you remember the library we went to?” His voice broke the silence, soft and tentative, as though reaching for something fragile.

You looked at him, noticing the way his gaze wavered, a flicker of something unspoken glinting behind his eyes. Hesitation? Longing? It was hard to tell, but you could feel it—something pulling at him, tethering him to a memory his heart wasn’t ready to let go of.

You sat up slightly, your movements drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. His eyes followed you, searching, waiting.

“Do you want to go to the bookstore, Min?” you asked, your voice gentle, careful.

The nickname rolled off your tongue, easy and familiar, but to Mingi, it was both a comfort and a quiet reminder of something he couldn’t quite grasp. The corners of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, as his heart reacted before his mind could catch up.

He nodded, almost absentmindedly, his eyes still on you as if the answer lay in the way you moved, the way you spoke. There was a dullness in his chest, a faint shadow of the vibrant emotions he once knew, but even in its muted state, it yearned for something more.

As you stood and moved toward the bedroom to grab your things, Mingi stayed rooted on the couch, watching you disappear through the doorway. His hand lingered on the cushion where yours had been moments ago, his thoughts a quiet storm.

The memory of rain-soaked streets and the quiet sanctuary of the bookstore flickered to life in his mind, tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He didn’t fully understand why the thought carried such weight, but the pull was undeniable. He exhaled softly, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the room. Maybe, just maybe, revisiting that moment would help him find what he felt was missing—something intangible, yet so profoundly important.

The rain caught them off guard. One moment, the sky was a dull gray, and the next, a torrential downpour had them sprinting down the street, their laughter mingling with the sound of splashing puddles. By the time they ducked into a small, tucked-away bookstore, both were drenched, water dripping from their hair and clothes. 

The rain stopped a few hours ago and the blue sky was enough evidence to not bring any umbrella yet they should have still brought it.  Mingi shook his head like a dog, sending droplets everywhere and earning a half-hearted glare from her as she squeezed the water from her sleeves. He grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his damp hair as he took in their surroundings.

The bookstore was charming in an old-world way—creaky wooden floors, overstuffed chairs, and the comforting scent of aged paper. His gaze wandered over the shelves, the rain outside creating a rhythmic backdrop.

“This place…” His voice trailed off as something stirred faintly in the back of his mind. “It feels familiar.” She glanced at him, her expression guarded, but said nothing.

Mingi meandered through the aisles, his fingers brushing the spines of books until one caught his eye—a worn-out copy of a novel that made his heart stutter.

Why this book?

He pulled it out and stared at the cover. A wave of warmth and nostalgia washed over him, but it was laced with something he couldn’t quite name, like trying to remember the details of a dream slipping through his fingers. Turning to her, he held up the book, a small smile playing on his lips. “Didn’t we read this together? I think I remember… something about this story. It’s special, isn’t it?”

Her eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t place, but it wasn’t the joy or excitement he expected. Instead, it was heavy, almost bittersweet. “You… you said it reminded you of us,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with a sadness she tried to mask.

 Mingi frowned, his thumb brushing the frayed edge of the book’s spine. “I did?”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her tone carefully neutral. “You did.”

His gaze remained fixed on her, studying the way her eyes avoided his, the way her smile didn’t quite reach them. Something about her felt different—familiar, yes, but distant. Her eyes, he realized, didn’t shine the way he remembered. There was something missing, a light he couldn’t name but that he was sure used to be there. He had always told her that her eyes were like stars, vibrant and full of wonder. Now, they were like stars lost behind clouds.

The thought sent an uncomfortable ache through his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer. She nodded quickly, too quickly, and busied herself with flipping through the pages of the book. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to the book. Sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs, he motioned for her to join him. She hesitated before settling into the chair across from him, and they both fell into a comfortable silence.

The sound of rain against the windows, the scent of old paper, the warmth of the tiny space—it all felt so… intimate. As if they were stepping into a memory.

Mingi began reading aloud, his deep voice filling the space. He didn’t understand why the words felt so familiar, why they tugged at something deep inside him, but he didn’t question it. When he looked up, he found her staring at him, her expression unreadable. He grinned, holding up the book. “You always said I read too slow.”

Her lips twitched, and for a brief moment, there was a spark of something—something that reminded him of the past, of those star-like eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the same guarded look.

Mingi leaned back in his chair, the ache in his chest deepening. Something was missing, something important, and it wasn’t just the gaps in his memory.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a serene stillness that seemed to blanket the world in a gentle calm. The two of them stepped out of the bookstore, the sound of their footsteps splashing against small puddles on the cobblestone street. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked ground and the faint aroma of nearby flowers.

Mingi glanced around, taking in the scene. The streetlights cast a warm, golden glow that reflected off the rain-slicked surfaces, making the entire place shimmer as though it were draped in a thousand tiny diamonds. It was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that made him feel small and yet deeply connected to the world around him.

He turned his gaze to her. She was walking slightly ahead of him, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the streetlights. The way her hair caught the light and the way her steps seemed to glide over the wet pavement—it all felt so familiar.

A tug in his chest pulled him closer to her. Without even thinking, his hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing against hers. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his in the dim light. He hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering, unsure if she would pull away. But then, her fingers curled around his, and Mingi felt a warmth bloom in his chest.

To him, it felt like home.

Her hand in his was soft and warm, fitting perfectly as though it had always belonged there. He squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. There was a comfort in the gesture, a sense of belonging that he couldn’t quite put into words.

For her, the touch was bittersweet. It felt like a memory, distant yet vivid, as though it were something she had dreamed of many times before. She glanced at him, her heart catching in her chest at the way he looked at her. His eyes held a softness, an affection that seemed unguarded, almost innocent.

The quiet between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. Instead, it was filled with unspoken emotions, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

The streets around them seemed to come alive in the aftermath of the rain. Raindrops clung to the leaves of the trees, catching the light and sparkling like tiny jewels. The occasional chirp of birds returning to their nests added to the tranquil ambiance. It was as though the world itself was holding its breath, watching them, waiting for something to unfold.

Mingi finally broke the silence, his voice soft and contemplative. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The way everything sparkles after the rain… It feels peaceful.”

She nodded, her eyes drifting to the shimmering reflections on the ground. “It does. Like everything’s been washed clean.”

His gaze lingered on her, a small smile playing at his lips. “You always used to say that, didn’t you? That the world looks brighter after the rain.”

She stiffened ever so slightly at his words, the smile on her face faltering for a brief moment before she quickly recovered. “Maybe I did.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied her expression. There it was again—that fleeting look in her eyes, as though she were hiding something. It was like a veil had been drawn over her emotions, keeping him at arm’s length.

But then, she turned to him fully, her hand still in his, and smiled softly. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Home.

The word echoed in his mind, and he held onto her hand a little tighter. The apartment they were heading to didn’t feel like the home he remembered, but her presence made it feel closer to what he thought home should be. As they walked side by side, the cool breeze brushing against their skin, Mingi couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this moment than he could understand. Her hand in his, the glimmer of raindrops on the leaves, the gentle hum of the world around them—it all felt so right, so familiar, yet tinged with an unspoken melancholy.

And for her, each step they took together felt like she was walking through fragments of their past, pieces of a life they had once shared but could no longer fully claim.

The rain had stopped, but the storm within them lingered, quietly shaping the path they walked together.

DAY 4

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the small apartment. You woke to the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen, the familiar sounds weaving comfort into the quiet morning. Stretching lazily, you padded out of the bedroom, your footsteps light as you made your way toward the source of the sound.

And there he was.

Your feet slowed, hesitating as your eyes locked onto his figure. For a moment, the world seemed to blur, leaving only him—the man standing in the kitchen, framed by the warm glow of morning sunlight. A wave of nostalgia hit you, so sudden and raw it almost stole your breath. Your throat tightened as memories clawed their way to the surface, unbidden yet familiar. How many times have you stood right here, watching him? The way he swayed softly to the music playing from his phone, completely unaware of how the light kissed his side profile, softening his edges and making him seem almost otherworldly. Majestic, yet achingly human.

It was so vividly him. And yet, it wasn’t.

Because now, the unspoken weight of six years—years filled with pain, silence, and the harsh reality of your separation—stood between you. The barriers of divorce and his amnesia loomed like shadows, carving a chasm between what was and what could never be again.

You wanted to step closer, to reach out and shatter the invisible wall that had formed over time. But the ache in your chest reminded you that the past was no longer yours to claim, and the present...

The present felt fragile, like the sunlight itself—beautiful but fleeting, slipping through your fingers no matter how desperately you tried to hold on. And yet, you stayed there, rooted to the spot, watching him as if the act alone could bridge the gap between your pain and his.

You brought yourself back to reality, sighing as you made your way to the kitchen. Mingi stood at the counter, his back to you as he brewed coffee, his movements unhurried. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of sizzling eggs, creating a symphony of warmth that filled the air. 

“Good morning,” you greeted softly, your voice still touched with sleep yet a hint of heaviness in them. He turned at the sound of your voice, his grin easy and familiar. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

You nodded, stepping further into the room. “I did. Coffee smells amazing, by the way.”

“Help yourself,” he said, gesturing to the counter as he flipped an egg in the pan with practiced ease. “I figured I’d return the favor this morning.”

Your heart gave a small flutter at his words, a sensation that left you momentarily speechless. Grabbing a mug, you poured yourself some coffee, the rich aroma filling your senses as you watched him move around the kitchen. There was something almost mesmerizing about the way he carried himself—calm, assured, and so at ease.

“You always wake up this early?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Old habits,” you replied, shrugging. “And someone has to make sure the coffee gets made properly.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and contagious, as he turned to set two plates on the table. “You really do make a great wife,” he said offhandedly, his voice casual yet filled with something unspoken. Your hand froze for a fraction of a second, your heart tripping over itself before you forced a small laugh. “Maybe… I did.”

The two of you sat down to eat, the conversation flowing effortlessly between bites of food and sips of coffee. Mingi asked about your day, your work, and the little details you often overlooked. Yet, hearing his interest in the mundane felt oddly comforting, as though he wanted to be a part of every piece of your life, no matter how small.

When breakfast was over, you reached for the dishes, but he stopped you, his grin playful but firm.

“You cooked. I’ll clean,” he said, already gathering the plates before you could protest. Your eyebrow furrowed, “But … you cooked,” You whisper but he ignores your words and proceeds to lean against the counter, you watched as he rolled up his sleeves, his movements unhurried as he rinsed the plates. He hummed softly under his breath, a tune you couldn’t quite place but that filled the space between you with warmth.

And in that moment, something inside you tightened.

He looked so natural, standing there with soap suds on his hands and the morning sunlight catching the curve of his smile. So much like the man you remembered, but lighter now, as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Yet, there was a bittersweet edge to it—a gentle ache that reminded you how fleeting these moments might be. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, the quiet push and pull of time and memory, weaving something fragile yet undeniably real between you.

As he turned back to you, drying his hands on a towel, his smile reached his eyes, soft and knowing. “Thanks for letting me stay,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.

You offered him a small smile, your chest tightening. “Thanks for being here.” 

And for a moment, it felt like the sunlight wasn’t just streaming through the window—it was radiating from the two of you, filling the small apartment with something unspoken yet profound.

Later that day, you find yourself walking through the bustling streets with him— Mingi wanting to walk around to memorize the place— the two of you weaving through the scattered crowd. The sun shines brightly overhead, and the remnants of yesterday’s rain glisten on the leaves and pavement, creating a shimmering path beneath your feet. As you turn a corner, his gaze shifts, locking onto an elderly woman struggling to carry several heavy bags of groceries. You watch as he pauses for only a moment before stepping forward, his long strides quickly closing the distance.

“Let me help you with those,” he offered, his tone gentle and reassuring. The woman looked up at him, surprised but grateful, as he effortlessly took the bags from her. “Thank you, young man. I didn’t realize they’d be this heavy.”

Mingi carried the groceries to her car, his movements easy and practiced. It was as though helping others was second nature to him, something he didn’t even have to think about.

You watch from a few steps away, your heart aching at the sight of him.

He’s always been like this—fiercely kind, endlessly giving. It’s one of the things you loved most about him. Memories flood back unbidden: the countless times he’d gone out of his way for you, fixing a broken appliance late at night, or carrying you in his arms when you sprained your ankle during that unforgettable hike. His kindness was a constant, a thread woven through every moment of your shared life.

When he returns to your side, his smile is radiant, his mood seemingly lighter. “Ready to go?” he asks, his tone so casual, so familiar.

You nod, forcing a smile. But as you fall into step beside him, the bittersweet ache in your chest deepens. The man beside you feels like a dream you once lived in—a beautiful, fleeting thing you can’t quite hold onto anymore.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks suddenly, his brows furrowed in confusion.

You blink, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been quiet,” he says, his voice softer now, tinged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

The words catch in your throat. You hesitate, searching for a response that won’t betray the truth. “No, it’s just… you remind me of someone I used to know.”

He tilts his head, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Someone as charming as me?”

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes, lightening the heaviness in the air for just a moment. “Maybe,” you reply, shaking your head.

But as the two of you walk on, your smile fades. Watching him help the elderly woman had stirred something deep within you—a longing for the man he used to be, and for the love you once shared. To him, it was just another act of kindness. To you, it was a glimpse of the man you still love, even if the cruel truth of reality says he’s no longer yours to love.

Later, the afternoon sunlight pours through the apartment window, painting everything in a soft, golden glow. He sits cross-legged on the couch, flipping absently through a magazine he picked up from the bookstore. Across the room, you busy yourself at the kitchen counter, organizing the groceries, keeping your hands moving so your mind doesn’t linger too long.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice cuts through the comfortable silence, startling you.

You pause, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Of course.”

“Back there, when I helped that woman… You looked at me like I’d done something surprising,” he says, his tone light but his gaze steady, searching.

You set down the box of tea bags, turning fully to face him. “I guess I was just reminded of how naturally kind you are,” you say carefully. “You’ve always been like that—helping people without expecting anything in return.”

He tilts his head, his expression softening into something you can’t quite decipher. “I don’t think that’s anything special. Isn’t that what anyone would do?”

You move toward him, settling on the couch beside him. “Not everyone,” you reply, your voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “You’ve always had a way of putting others first, even when you didn’t have to. It’s… one of the things I admire about you.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, something unspoken flickering behind his eyes, but neither of you says more. You wonder if he feels the weight of what you’ve left unsaid. Or if the truth, the one you’ve been carrying alone, will shatter the fragile peace of these moments when it finally comes to light. He watched her carefully, the faintest hint of a frown tugging at his lips. 

“You talk like you’ve known me forever. Like we’ve been married for a long time.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words pressing against her chest. Because honestly, it was true—every single word. Way back then, when your love was untainted by time or circumstance, the two of you had been inseparable. Two years of dating felt like an eternity and yet not nearly enough, as if every moment was still just the beginning.

Mingi had been everything—your best friend, your partner, your home. He had this way of looking at you, like you were the answer to every question he didn’t even know he was asking. And on your third anniversary, he did the one thing that solidified the depth of his love.

He proposed.

It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it was perfect. The way his hands trembled, holding the ring box, his eyes shining with a mixture of nerves and joy. His voice cracked when he said, “Across all these universes, may my soul search for yours, destined to find you, to love you in every single one.”

He used to say your love was stronger than gold. To him, it wasn’t just a sentiment; it was a promise. He saw a future so vivid, so tangible—one filled with laughter, shared dreams, and the quiet comfort of growing old together. He had been excited to spend his life in your arms, to build something lasting and unbreakable.

And yet, here you were now, standing in the fragile ruins of what once was. The man who once held your world in his hands now looked at you with the same hopeful eyes, completely unaware of the truth that would break him.

The truth that your love, though still stronger than gold in your heart, had been twisted and reshaped by time. That his future, the one he envisioned so clearly, now belonged to someone else.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, your breath hitching as the memory of that proposal flashed behind your eyes like a cruel echo. How could something so beautiful, so full of life, turn into this? How could you bear to look at him, knowing what you know?

And yet, you smiled, hiding the storm raging inside you, because this wasn’t about you anymore. This was about him, his recovery, his healing. The sacrifice of pretending, of playing your part, weighed heavily on your soul, but you’d carry it for as long as he needed.

Even if it meant breaking your own heart in the process.

DAY 5

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but the weight of yesterday’s conversation still lingered in the air. You moved about the small apartment with a practiced rhythm, avoiding looking at Mingi too directly. He seemed more pensive than usual, his usual chatter subdued, as if he were trying to process something just out of reach.

The knowledge that he’d be returning to his family in just three days gnawed at you. The purpose of his stay was clear—these days together were supposed to help him recover before transitioning back to the care of his parents. But your heart ached at the thought of him leaving, even as your brain screamed at you to protect yourself, to not let him back into the fragile pieces of your heart you’d painstakingly put together after the divorce.

“I’m going for a walk,” Mingi announced suddenly, breaking the stillness of the afternoon.

You had come to terms with yourself, silently agreeing that this moment might be your only chance to recreate a life you once cherished. It was fleeting, you knew, but being with this version of Mingi again—so unburdened, so much like the man you had fallen in love with—made you feel like the person you had been six years ago. Even if it tore at your heart, the thought of reliving those moments, even for a little while, was worth the pain.

“Do you want some company?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He paused, his boyish grin spreading across his face in a way that sent a pang through your chest. “Always.”

You had come to terms with yourself, silently agreeing that this moment might be your only chance to recreate a life you once cherished. It was fleeting, you knew, but being with this version of Mingi again—so unburdened, so much like the man you had fallen in love with—made you feel like the person you had been six years ago. Even if it tore at your heart, the thought of reliving those moments, even for a little while, was worth the pain.

The two of you wandered through the lively streets, the world around you a gentle hum of activity. The buzz of conversation from passing strangers, the distant laughter of children playing, the occasional bark of a dog—it all blended into a comforting symphony. At first, the silence between you was tentative, but as the minutes passed, it softened, giving way to something familiar.

Mingi seemed more relaxed, his long strides unhurried as he pointed out little details that caught his attention—a street performer playing a wistful tune on a violin, a quirky storefront painted in bold, mismatched colors, the way yesterday’s rain sparkled like diamonds on the leaves of a tree. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself smiling, your heart lighter than it had been in days.

Then, as you passed a photo booth bathed in colorful neon lights, he stopped abruptly.

“Oh!” His exclamation startled you, his face lighting up with a mischievous sparkle that made him look impossibly young. “Let’s do it!”

“What?” you asked, blinking in confusion as he tugged at your hand.

“The photo booth,” he said, already pulling you toward it. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You barely had time to protest before you were crammed together inside the tiny booth, your knees brushing against his as the screen flickered to life.

“Pose!” Mingi commanded, throwing up a ridiculous face that made you burst into laughter.

The countdown began, and for the next few minutes, the two of you dissolved into pure, unfiltered joy. Silly faces, exaggerated poses, and moments of shared laughter filled the air. You forgot everything—the pain, the truth, the weight of what you were hiding. For a brief, blissful moment, it was just the two of you, exactly as you had been.

As the timer ticked down to the final shot, Mingi’s laughter faded, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Before you could process what was happening, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was tender and full of longing, as though the six years that had separated you had never existed. Your mind reeled, your heart hammering in your chest. The world outside the booth seemed to vanish, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours, soft yet insistent, familiar yet new. 

It was the same as the first time he kissed you—the same warmth that spread from your chest, the same dizzying sensation of the world tilting on its axis, the same undeniable certainty that this was where you belonged.

The flash went off, its light momentarily blinding, but you barely noticed. Your world had narrowed to the feel of his hands and the taste of the kiss that lingered, soft yet searing. Your fingers had moved instinctively, gripping the fabric of his jacket, as if holding onto him could stop time, could keep him from slipping away again. His fingers lightly cupped your jaw, grounding you, pulling you closer as if he, too, was afraid to let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, the faint warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. His eyes, soft and searching, met yours, and in them, you saw everything you had once known—love, hope, and the promise of forever.

But the ache in your chest only deepened. He looked at you as though no time had passed, as though the years of separation hadn’t carved out pieces of your soul. Yet here you were, on opposite sides of a chasm you’d helped create.

He pulled away slightly, his gaze lingering, filled with an almost unbearable tenderness. It made your heart ache—an ache that spread through your whole being, a longing to pour out the words that had been locked inside you for so long.

You wanted to tell him how much you regretted signing the papers, how you had spent countless nights replaying every moment that led to that decision. You wanted to confess that you should have fought for what you had, that you should have held on tighter when everything was falling apart.

But everything was too late. Six years too late.

You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, forcing a fragile smile as the photo booth’s mechanical hum brought you back to reality. And as the moment passed, slipping through your fingers like sand, you realized that some wounds, no matter how much time passes, never truly heal.

The booth fell silent except for the faint hum of the machinery spitting out the photo strip. Your emotions were a whirlwind—confusion, longing, hope, and a pain so sharp it was almost unbearable.

Mingi’s eyes searched yours, his expression soft yet unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“For what?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“For forgetting,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “For making you carry this alone after the accident.”

Your breath was caught in your throat, some tears threatened to spill in the corner of your eyes. The accident. Not the divorce, not the heartbreak you thought he meant. His words held the weight of sincerity, of regret for memories stolen rather than choices made.

Your heart clenched, the ache deepening as you realized he was apologizing for something entirely out of his control. “Mingi…” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady.

The machine beeped softly, a sound that felt louder in the confined space, breaking the spell of shared laughter and fleeting joy. Mingi turned slightly, retrieving the freshly printed photo strip from the slot. As his eyes scanned the series of images, a small, almost wistful smile tugged at his lips, a mix of nostalgia and something unspoken shimmering in his expression.

“Look,” he said, his voice soft as he held the strip out for you to see.

Your breath falters as your eyes fall on the final frame. It wasn’t a silly pose or a playful expression like the others. Instead, it was a moment you hadn’t expected—a soft, unplanned kiss. His lips touched yours, the emotion behind it was unmistakable.

It was hauntingly familiar, a mirror of a moment from years ago—the tender kiss that sealed your vows on the altar. The memory crashed over you like a wave, unearthing a rush of feelings you thought you had buried.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air felt heavy, charged with a mix of longing and heartbreak. His thumb traced the edge of the photo strip absently as though trying to etch the memory into his mind.

“Mingi…” you began, your voice trembling. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for something—perhaps understanding, perhaps forgiveness. “I don’t know why,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But this… it feels like something I should never have forgotten.”

His words hung between you, pulling at the threads of your carefully guarded heart.

For now, you let him fold the photo strip and tuck it into his pocket. As you stepped out of the booth, the cool air hit your face, grounding you. Mingi walked beside you, his boyish grin returning as he pointed out a street performer nearby, as if nothing had changed.

But something had.

As you walked back home, the atmosphere felt quieter, almost solemn, as if the world had slowed just for the two of you. The rain from yesterday had left everything glistening, tiny droplets clinging to the edges of leaves and the curves of streetlights. The golden afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, casting a soft, ethereal glow that felt almost too perfect for a moment like this.

Without warning, Mingi reached out and took your hand.

His fingers laced through yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way that sent a ripple through your chest. You glanced at him, startled, but his gaze remained fixed ahead, a slight furrow in his brow as though he were lost in thought.

“It feels right,” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the whisper of the wind. The words settled between you, simple yet profound, leaving you unsure whether he was speaking to you or to himself. Your steps faltered slightly, but his hand tightened, a gentle reassurance that he wasn’t letting go—not now, not yet.

The warmth of his touch lingered as the two of you continued down the glistening path, your heart a conflicted mess of emotions. You wanted to pull away, to keep your walls intact, but the pull of his presence was undeniable.

That night, as the city outside settled into its usual hum, you lay awake, staring at the faint patterns of moonlight on the ceiling.

The memory of his hand in yours, the quiet conviction in his voice, echoed in your mind. The fifth night had come and gone, and still, your thoughts revolved around one question.

Was this fleeting comfort worth the risk of reopening wounds that had never fully healed?

Day 6

The tension from the previous day clung to you like a second skin, heavy and unshakable. It had been impossible to look Mingi in the eye that morning, his boyish charm and newfound tenderness pulling at strings you thought were severed long ago.

As you finished tying your shoes near the doorway, you glanced at him hesitantly. Mingi was standing by the window, a book in his hand as his eyes skimmed on the letters inside, the golden morning sunlight casting a warm glow across his face. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers tapping lightly against the spine of the book.

“I’m meeting Seonghwa for coffee,” you said softly, your voice careful, testing the waters.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he said simply, his tone gentle but distant.

You blinked, surprised by the lack of resistance. “Okay?”

Mingi’s gaze softened, his hand snapped the book close as he walked toward you. “Okay,” he repeated, and for a moment, you thought that was the end of it.

But then he stopped in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. Before you could say anything, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of it made your breath hitch, your heart lurching painfully in your chest.

“Be safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “And enjoy your time with Seonghwa-hyung.”

You stared up at him, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his words. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he pulled away, leaving you standing there, feeling as though the ground beneath you had shifted.

“I… I will,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He offered you a small, boyish smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still carried a trace of the man you once knew. And as you stepped out the door, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze on your back, a silent tether that refused to let you go. 

The tension from the previous day clung to you like a second skin, heavy and unshakable. It had been impossible to look Mingi in the eye that morning, his boyish charm and newfound tenderness pulling at strings you thought were severed long ago.

You were desperate for clarity, for a sense of balance, which was why meeting Seonghwa now felt so vital. As you slid into your usual seat at the café, your chest tightened, and the weight of everything threatened to pull you under.

Seonghwa arrived moments later, his presence as steadying as it was piercing. His warm gaze swept over you, concern evident in the slight downturn of his lips.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting across from you. His voice was gentle, but it carried an edge—a readiness to say what you weren’t ready to hear. You forced a smile, wrapping your hands around the warm coffee cup in front of you. “Hey.”

The soft hum of the café enveloped the quiet between you, but Seonghwa didn’t let it linger. He leaned forward, his elbows settling on the table, his fingers grazing yours with a touch that sent sparks up your arm. His voice was steady, yet his gaze carried the weight of unspoken truths. “Are you doing this for yourself, or for what you think you could have saved?”

His words hit like a jolt, unraveling the fragile composure you had carefully held together. Your pulse raced as you turned away, pretending to find solace in the rain-streaked window. “Seonghwa…” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the soft patter of rain.

“I’m not mad at you, babe,” he interrupted, his voice faltering on the last word, betraying the calm facade he was trying so hard to maintain. His eyes shone with a mixture of anguish and desperation as he leaned forward. “But I’m terrified. Terrified that you’re tying yourself to the past again, to him, when it nearly destroyed you the first time.”

The sharpness of his tone cut through you like a blade, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Your chest tightened as you fought to steady your breathing, to keep the tears threatening to spill at bay. “It’s not like that,” you whispered, though the tremor in your voice gave you away.

“Then what is it like?” he pressed, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. The air between you crackled with unspoken truths and heavy silences. “You could’ve told the truth—” He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if bracing himself for the storm his words would unleash.

He opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours with a quiet pain that made your heart shatter. “The truth that his wife is now conscious in that hospital room. Why didn’t you?”

The night after you and Mingi shared a quiet walk under the stars, your phone buzzed with a message. It was from the doctor—the one who had delicately outlined Mingi’s condition, her words laced with a cautious hope that had felt fragile but comforting.

"Mingi's wife has regained consciousness. She’s currently in surgery, slowly recovering from the head trauma."

The words blurred as your eyes scanned them again, your breath catching in your throat. At first, they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s story. But then, the meaning sank in like a weight dropping in your chest.

Mingi’s wife.

The words struck you like a lightning bolt, jolting you into a reality you had somehow let yourself forget. His wife—the legal wife. The woman whose place you could never fill, no matter how fleeting the moments you shared with him had been.

Your heart plummeted as the realization hit you with earth-shattering clarity. For days, you had let yourself sink into the illusion of being close to him, of stepping into a role you had no right to play. And now, like heaven and earth colliding, you were reminded of the truth you had buried so deeply.

Mingi was never yours and no longer yours.

The thought tore through you, an ache blooming in your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. The walls of the room seemed to press in, the space shrinking with every passing second. Relief warred with despair, confusion tangled with longing, and you could barely grasp at the threads of your own emotions. Somewhere, the rational part of you knew this was how it was supposed to be—that Mingi would return to her arms, to the life he had built with someone else. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

The question struck like a hammer to your chest, robbing you of breath. You turned your head away, your eyes squeezing shut as if that could block out the weight of his words. The ache of emotions you had buried deep within clawed its way to the surface, and you felt the sting of suppressed tears.

“Because…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, raw and broken. “Because he needed someone.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes swimming with unshed tears. “He woke up not knowing anything, Seonghwa. Not even himself. How could I just leave him to that kind of emptiness?”

His jaw tightened as he searched your face, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his frustration and fear. “And what about you?” he asked, his voice trembling, barely holding together. “What about your emptiness? What about the nights you couldn’t breathe, the times I had to hold you together because you couldn’t stand on your own? What about everything you’ve been through?”

You couldn’t answer. The words lodged in your throat like shards of glass, too sharp to speak.

He reached out, his hand hovering near yours before retreating, his fingers curling into a fist. “How do you think this ends for you?” His voice cracked, and the vulnerability in it made your chest tighten further. “Do you think this fixes anything? Or are you just breaking yourself all over again for someone who might not even give a second look the moment they remember?”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you met his gaze, his expression so raw, so full of love and worry, it almost undid you. “I don’t know,” you said honestly, your voice barely a whisper. “But he’s not the same, Seonghwa. He’s… different. He doesn’t remember the fights or the divorce. He doesn’t remember why we fell apart. He only remembers me—us. And it’s…” You trailed off, your voice breaking under the weight of unsaid words.

“It’s what?” Seonghwa prompted, his hand reaching across the table to hold yours, grounding you.

“It’s killing me,” you confessed, the tears spilling over now. “To see him like this, to see him not remember the life we had—or the pain that ended it. It’s like I’m living in this cruel, beautiful lie.”

Seonghwa inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on your hand. “You’re not responsible for fixing him,” he said firmly, though his voice trembled with emotion. “You’ve already given so much of yourself to him. I’m scared you’ll lose what’s left.”

The rawness in his voice shattered something inside you, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full weight of his words.

“I just…” You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “I needed to be there for him. Even if it’s only for now.”

The weight of the unspoken hung heavily between you and Seonghwa, a reminder of the ticking clock counting down the days until he would leave. You tried to ignore it, burying the ache deep within, but it clawed relentlessly at the edges of your resolve.

Before either of you could say more, your phone buzzed against the table, the sound jarring in the heavy silence. You glanced down and froze when you saw Mingi’s name flashing on the screen.

Seonghwa’s eyes flicked to the phone, his expression calm but his jaw tight. “Answer it,” he said softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.

With trembling hands, you swiped to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Mingi’s voice came through, warm and familiar. For a moment, it felt like coming home. But there was an edge to his tone, a weight you couldn’t quite place. “I was just thinking about you. Can we talk when you get back?”

Your heart clenched at his words, his longing bleeding through the line. “Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice thick with unspoken emotions.

When you hung up, Seonghwa was watching you, his dark eyes searching yours. “He remembers you,” he said quietly, each word measured. “But not the pain. Not the fights. Not the divorce.”

You nodded, your fingers trembling as you wiped at the tears threatening to fall. “And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Seonghwa reached out, his hand finding yours again. His thumb brushed softly against your knuckles, grounding you in the present even as the past threatened to overwhelm. “I’ll support you, no matter what,” he said, his voice steady but laced with quiet anguish. “But promise me, if it gets too much, you’ll walk away. You deserve a future—not a life trapped in the shadows of what could’ve been.”

You nodded, but the promise felt fragile, like a thread stretched too thin. “I’ll try,” you whispered.

His gaze softened, though the worry lingered in his eyes. “That’s all I ask.”

“A drive?” you repeated, startled. On the way back home and after bidding goodbye to Seonghwa, your nerves were everywhere, anxiety rising as to what Mingi wanted to talk about. Your mind races with many thoughts and one of them were the conversations you just had with Mingi and dread washed over you.

“Yeah,” he said, already standing. He was already in his sweater and jeans, the keys juggling in his palm,  “It’s been so long since I’ve just… gone somewhere for no reason. You in?”

The logical part of you wanted to decline, to keep the boundaries clear, to protect your heart. But the part of you still tethered to him—the part that had never quite let go—nodded. “Okay.”

The car hummed softly as it came to life, the familiar sound filling the quiet. Once you hit the open road, Mingi rolled down the windows, letting the cool night air rush in. It carried the scent of damp asphalt and distant pine, and for a moment, you felt like you’d stepped back in time. He fiddled with the radio, flipping through stations until a familiar melody filled the car. A smile spread across his face. “Remember this?”

You nodded, the song tugging at memories you thought you’d buried. It was your song—the one that played on countless late-night drives, the soundtrack to a thousand shared moments.

Mingi’s grin widened as he sang along, his voice exaggerated and dramatic. His arms gestured wildly, just like he used to, and you couldn’t help but laugh. The sound bubbled up, surprising even you, cutting through the heaviness that had settled in your chest.

“Your turn,” he said, glancing at you with a teasing smile.

“I don’t sing,” you replied, shaking your head.

“Your voice is my favorite song,” he said, the words slipping out so naturally they caught you off guard. Your laughter faded, replaced by a quiet ache. You turned your gaze to the window, watching the darkened trees blur past. “I hope you still do.”

The miles stretched out beneath you, the city lights fading into quieter, darker roads. The wind whipped through your hair, wild and untamed, but you didn’t bother to fix it. For a fleeting moment, it felt like nothing else mattered—just the open road, the music, and him.

But the memories crept in, unbidden and sharp. The countless nights spent in this very seat, his hand brushing yours on the gearshift. The shared dreams, the unspoken promises, the way you’d believed you were untouchable.

“Mingi,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the engine’s hum.

He turned to you, his expression curious.

“Why did you want to go for a drive?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the road ahead before answering. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do remember, this is our sweet grand escape.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “It is.” And in that moment, with the road stretching endlessly ahead, you wondered if you’d ever truly move forward—or if some part of you would always be here, caught between what was and what could have been.

The road ahead stretched out in silence, the hum of the engine blending with the soft whispers of the wind. By the time you turned back toward the city, the air had grown colder, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. The stars above were scattered like fragments of light against the inky blackness, their brilliance mirrored in your quiet longing.

Mingi reached over, his hand finding the console between you. His fingers brushed against yours—light, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of something fragile. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your breath hitched before you could stop it.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter the delicate moment. His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the vulnerability etched into his profile.

“But being with you…” he continued, his words catching slightly, as though they carried more than he could say. “It feels like I’m home. Like I’ve been away for a long time, and now I’m finally back where I belong.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, seeping into every crevice of the space between you. Your chest tightened, the ache blooming anew. You wanted to hold onto his words, to let them wrap around you like the warmth of his touch, but they carried a bittersweet weight that was impossible to ignore.

You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting out the window as you struggled to steady the storm of emotions inside you. The city lights glimmered in the distance, but they felt impossibly far away—like the future you’d once dreamed of with him, now nothing more than a faint glimmer on a distant horizon.

He took a quick look at you, his eyes held so much love— like he was carrying the entire aurora borealis in his eyes, “You’re my home.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. You wanted to tell him the truth, to let him know that this wasn’t his home anymore—that you weren’t his home anymore. But the words refused to come.

Instead, you let your hand slip into his, your fingers intertwining as naturally as they always had. And for the rest of the drive, you let yourself believe, just for a little while, that you could still be his home.

Day 7

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” You nudged Mingi gently, your voice soft but insistent, fingers brushing against his arm. He stirred, blinking up at you with groggy confusion. “What time is it?” 

You gave him a soft smile, “Just get up.” He groaned but sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Without protest, Mingi followed you, the two of you making your way out into the quiet stillness of the world before it woke; yet the weight of what was to come pressed heavily on your chest.

Last night had been a sleepless one. After the late-night drive, you had returned to the stillness of your shared space, the echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his presence lingering in the room like a ghost of the past. But the peace you so desperately wanted to hold onto eluded you. Instead, your mind raced, caught in a storm of emotions that refused to settle.

The entire week with him had felt like an unraveling—his presence a salve to old wounds that had never fully healed, yet at the same time, it had torn open scars you had worked so hard to seal. Being near him again, feeling his touch, hearing his laugh—it was everything you had once dreamed of. Everything you had wished to return to, even when you told yourself it wasn’t possible.

But the truth loomed over you, undeniable and inescapable. Mingi deserved to know it, deserved to have the clarity you had ignored for so long. As the hours dragged on and sleep remained a distant hope, you had spent the night removing the shards embedded deep in your heart, one by one.

The memories were sharp, cutting with each recollection: the way he looked at you with those eyes full of unspoken longing, the touch of his hand brushing yours in the car, the sound of his voice when he said you felt like home. Every moment was a reminder of what you had lost—and what you could no longer pretend to have.

Your tears had soaked into the pillow as you wrestled with the decision, the battle between selfishly holding onto these fleeting moments and doing what you knew was right. You couldn’t let him live in the illusion any longer. He deserved the truth, even if it shattered the fragile connection you’d rebuilt.

The air was crisp, carrying the biting chill of dawn that made you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself. Above, the sky remained a canvas of deep navy, stars beginning to dim as the first strokes of orange and pink teased the horizon. The world felt suspended in a quiet hush, the stillness amplified by the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze.

You led Mingi to a secluded hill overlooking the city, the spot you’d discovered during one of your solitary escapes. It was a place of solace for you, where the sprawling cityscape seemed small and far away, swallowed by the vastness of the sky.

Neither of you spoke as you sat side by side on the damp grass. The cold seeped through your clothes, grounding you in the reality of the moment. The faint hum of distant traffic mingled with the melody of birds waking to the light. Slowly, the darkness began to yield, giving way to the soft warmth of the approaching sunrise.

Mingi’s breath fogged in the air as he spoke, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “It’s beautiful.”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the horizon. The first rays of sunlight painted the edges of the sky in hues of gold and pink, chasing away the night. “I thought it’d be a good way to end things.”

He turned to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “End things?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Mingi’s heart thudded unevenly in his chest, a gnawing sense of unease creeping through him. Your tone wasn’t cold—it was resolute, distant in a way that felt unfamiliar and wrong. He opened his mouth to respond, to ask what you meant, but the words tangled in his throat.

His mind raced, flooded with fragments of emotions and half-formed thoughts. What’s happening? Why does it feel like something’s slipping away? He searched your face, looking for answers in the curve of your lips, the downward tilt of your gaze.

Is this why you’ve been so quiet? Why your smiles seemed forced? He thought of the past week, the stolen moments of warmth that felt almost too fragile, too fleeting. His chest tightened. Were those memories or just illusions of something we used to have?

Were those moments we shared just days ago … were my memories?

And then there were the flashes—images that didn’t make sense but stirred something deep and aching within him. Your tear-streaked face, eyes red and swollen, though he couldn’t recall ever seeing you cry. The ghost of your voice, trembling with words he couldn’t quite grasp.

Mingi wanted to ask, to demand why this felt like goodbye when he wasn’t ready for it. But fear held him back, rooting him in silence. What if asking makes it real? What if I lose you all over again?

You exhaled slowly, breaking the silence. “Mingi… you’re going back to your family tomorrow. This…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “This was temporary. A way for you to heal. But it’s not real. Not anymore.”

His breath hitched, and he turned his gaze back to the horizon, unable to meet your eyes. His thoughts screamed against your words, but his voice refused to cooperate. The truth loomed like a shadow he wasn’t prepared to confront, a storm he couldn’t outrun.

The sunlight began to spread, illuminating the city below in soft, golden light. Mingi clenched his fists against the damp grass, the weight of the moment pressing against his chest. He wanted to reach out, to tell you that it was real, that you were his anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

“I love you…” he said suddenly, his voice soft yet firm, like a whisper of truth he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hand finding yours, squeezing it as if telling you to stop joking yet none of your eyes says that you were.

It felt like a dam had broken within you. The walls you had so carefully built to protect yourself crumbled, and the flood of emotions hit with brutal force. Your shoulders trembled, a sharp inhale escaping you as your head shook, denying the reality of his words. You fought with everything you had to stay composed, but your heart betrayed you, a painful ache spreading through your chest.

“No…” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you had buried deep inside. It was more than just the words, more than just the confession— it was everything you couldn’t say, everything that had been left unsaid for far too long.

Tears brimmed in your reddened eyes, threatening to spill, but you willed yourself to hold them back. Every part of you screamed to push him away, to refuse him, but a deeper part of you— the part that remembered the love you once shared, the tenderness and joy— fought against the words that had already formed in your throat.

“No, you don’t.”

The words left your lips in a breathless rush, the weight of them heavier than anything you had ever spoken. Your chest tightened with the unbearable pressure of it all, a battle raging inside you. The pain, the confusion, the loss. 

Mingi tilted his head, confusion clouding his expression as he tried to make sense of it all. “But I’m married to you.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. It was a sound of disbelief and pain, born from the weight of everything that had happened. Your gaze fell to your intertwined hands—a fragile semblance of connection in a world that had shattered between the two of you.

You pulled away with sudden resolve, the movement decisive. It felt like a necessary break—like something had to give for you to survive this moment.

“Was,” you corrected softly, your voice trembling but steady. “I was married to you—before we divorced.”

The words hit the air between you like an invisible force, heavy and unrelenting. His mouth opened as if to argue, to hold onto something that didn’t belong to either of you anymore, but you stopped him before the denial could take form.

The quiet strength in your voice broke through his confusion. “You left me, Mingi.”

Your tone softened, the bitterness giving way to something raw, something vulnerable. The weight of years—of heartbreak, of unanswered questions—had finally found their voice. “You said you didn’t feel the love between us anymore. That you found it with someone else. And now…”

Your voice faltered, breaking like the tender thread of a once-beautiful memory. You balled your hands into fists at your sides, trying to hold onto what little strength you had left. “You already belong to someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

The silence stretched between you as the sun climbed higher, its golden rays casting light on his face. But the clarity in his eyes wasn’t there—only the raw confusion, the hurt that mirrored your own. He struggled to process your words, his fingers twitching as if to reach for you, but they stopped short, hanging in the air with unspoken regret.

“I don’t remember that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the pain in his tone cutting deeper than anything before.

You nodded slowly, your heart aching as the tears you had tried so hard to hold back slipped down your cheeks. “I know,” you whispered back, the sorrow in your voice thickening with each breath. “And that’s why I wanted to do this—because I needed to let go. I needed to find closure—for the both of us.”

Mingi stared at you, his eyes locking onto yours as if searching for the pieces of himself that had slipped away, hoping they were hidden somewhere inside your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, as if trying to reconcile the weight of his feelings with the reality of what had been lost.

“But I feel it,” he said finally, his voice breaking with desperation. “I feel like I love you— No! I love you, you’re my home. How can that not be real?”

The words—those words—shattered the last vestiges of your composure. You smiled through your tears, the smile that came from a place of bittersweetness—an expression that was both tender and laced with pain.

“Because sometimes, love isn’t enough to keep something whole,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “And sometimes, it’s about knowing when to let go.”

The finality in your voice hung in the air like a heavy fog, and the truth of it sank in, sharp and undeniable. You were letting go. You were finally releasing everything you had tried so hard to hold onto.

You looked at him one last time, your gaze lingering, as if you were trying to memorize every detail—his mole on the left side of his cheek, the sharp curve of his nose, the way his eyes crinkled into that crescent-shaped smile that always made you feel like the world had melted away. In that instant, you allowed yourself to drown in the present, to feel the weight of everything that had once been yours.

But it was fleeting. Too fleeting.

This—this moment—was all that was left of him, the man who had once been everything to you. The man you loved so fiercely, so completely, and yet, whose love had faded as quickly as it had come.

As you stood there, watching him in all his vulnerability, you finally allowed the tears you had been holding back to fall freely. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. This was the end. The closure you had been yearning for was finally here.

“I’ll miss you, Min,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the weight of your words took hold of your chest.

The name—his name—felt like a dagger, sharp and bittersweet, as it slipped from your lips. You closed your eyes for just a moment, and in that second, the rush of memories hit you like a wave. The laughter, the tenderness, the warmth that used to fill every space between you two. But as quickly as the memories came, they were replaced by the painful reality that this was no longer your life. He wasn’t yours anymore, and you weren’t his. Not in the way you once were.

“I love you, Tulip,” he whispered, his voice breaking like shattered glass, his hand reaching for yours with a desperate kind of tenderness.

But you pushed his hands away, the motion sharp, your heart aching at the rejection you had to force upon him. “Stop, Mingi,” you said, your voice trembling with raw emotion, your bottom lip wobbling as tears streamed unchecked down your cheeks. “I’m no longer your wife.”

The words fell like a gavel in a silent courtroom—final, undeniable. They echoed in the small space between you, shattering whatever fragile illusion of reconciliation had lingered in his hopeful gaze.

Mingi stood there, frozen, his hand still hovering mid-air as if waiting for a different outcome, one that would never come. His lips parted, and for a moment, it seemed he might argue, might plead, might try to close the gap between you. But then he saw the anguish in your eyes, the pain you carried, and it stopped him in his tracks.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured, his voice laced with confusion, his gaze darting between your face and the floor as though searching for answers that didn’t exist. “I feel it, Tulip. I feel this love—so real, so strong. How can you say that we’re not—”

“Mingi.” Your voice cracked as you interrupted him, your tears falling faster now. “The love is there. I know it is. But it’s not enough anymore. It died six years ago.”

His shoulders slumped as if the weight of your words had finally crushed him, the realization dawning painfully slow.

“I don’t remember the fights,” he said quietly, his tone almost childlike in its confusion. “The hurt, the divorce… I don’t remember any of it. All I know is what I feel now. And it feels real. It feels like I love you— No! I love you and I’ve always loved you.”

Your breath hitched, the raw vulnerability in his words cutting through you like a knife. You reached up, covering your mouth as a sob escaped.

“It’s not about what you remember,” you said, your voice trembling. “It’s about what we’ve both lived through. The pain, the betrayal, the breaking of something so beautiful—we can’t just erase that. We can’t rewrite the past, no matter how much we want to.”

His eyes filled with tears as he took a tentative step closer. “But Tulip…”

You shook your head, the motion small but resolute. “You might not remember the scars, but I do. They’re a part of me now. A part of us. And I— We can’t keep living in this unfair nostalgia, holding onto something that’s already gone.”

Mingi’s face crumpled, his tears finally spilling over as he stared at you, helpless. “So that’s it?” he whispered, his voice breaking. You looked at him for what felt like the last time, your gaze lingering on every detail of the man you once called your everything. His mole on his left cheek, the sharp bridge of his nose, the way his crescent-shaped eyes still managed to smile even through the tears..

Your hand reached out, trembling, to settle on his cheek. He leaned into your touch without hesitation, his eyes fluttering closed as though savoring the moment. Your breath caught in your throat, a lump of sorrow and love you couldn’t swallow.

Maybe untying the fragile, fraying knot that held together your broken strings would set you both free—free to be bound to something stronger, something whole.

“I’ll miss you, Min,” you whispered, your thumb catching some of his tears, the words so soft they almost dissolved into the air, but their weight carried the entirety of your heart. Mingi’s lips parted, his gaze snapping to yours, as though he wanted to protest, to hold you there with him forever. But no words came. He simply stood, frozen, as you turned away.

He watched you walk away, each step you took feeling like it carved pieces out of him. The silence between you was deafening, each footfall heavier than the last.

The words weren’t just a goodbye—they were a love letter to the life you had shared, the dreams you had built, the memories you would carry forever. The unfair nostalgia lingered in the air between you, thick and suffocating, a reminder of what once was and what could never be.

Again. 

[newworldwritings]

strangers by nature | masterlist

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever.

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chapter i ⋆ chapter ii ⋆ chapter iii ⋆ chapter iv ⋆ chapter v ⋆ chapter vi ⋆ chapter vii ⋆ chapter viii ⋆ chapter ix ⋆ chapter x

[newworldwritings]

random bf!ateez texts // san

a/n: if you saw me post this last night, no you didn’t 😁 I’ve finished the maknae line though, we love to see it

warnings: swearing, suggestive in the silly haha way, a mild threat(?) (I don’t take someone telling me to choke seriously whatsoever but just putting it here just in case)

seonghwa | hongjoong | yunho | yeosang | mingi | wooyoung | jongho

ateez masterlist | general masterlist

[newworldwritings]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

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@bunny4yungi @zl-world

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[newworldwritings]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar |

@bunny4yungi @zl-world

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[newworldwritings]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[newworldwritings]

The Next Morning

maknaeline x f!reader

Genre: humour, explicit, fluff

Warnings: MDNI 18+

a/n: i saw a couple of you when you read drunkteez were interested in seeing the boys' reactions the next morning and thay said, so here it is, enjoy xx

San

Y/N stretched and yawned, feeling the warmth of the bed as she slowly woke up. Beside her, San was still asleep, his arm draped lazily over his forehead, a faint smile playing on his lips.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of last night. He had been so drunk, so earnest, and so utterly ridiculous. She had lost count of how many times he’d repeated his desires, his words slurring more with each attempt. She shook her head, already planning how she was going to tease him about it.

Slipping out of bed, Y/N padded quietly to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee. The rich aroma filled the apartment, and soon enough, she heard the soft rustling of sheets as San began to stir. Moments later, he appeared in the doorway, looking adorably disheveled with his hair sticking up in all directions.

“Morning,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Late enough,” Y/N teased, pouring two cups of coffee. She handed him one, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Feeling okay?”

San groaned, taking a sip of his coffee. “My head is killing me. How much did I drink?”

“Enough to make some pretty bold declarations,” Y/N replied, turning in his arms to face him. She couldn’t resist any longer. “Do you remember what you said last night?”

San blinked, a frown creasing his brow as he tried to recall. “Uh… no? What did I say?”

Y/N bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face. “You were very insistent about a few things. You told me that all you wanted in life was to have a good time, that you wanted me, and…” She paused for dramatic effect, watching his expression. “That you wanted your dick sucked.”

San froze, his eyes widening in horror as the words registered. “I… I said that?”

Y/N nodded, barely containing her laughter. “Multiple times, actually. You even started listing the different ways you like it.”

San groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was so drunk…”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. She reached up, pulling his hands away from his face so she could see him. “San, it’s okay. It was actually pretty funny.”

He sighed, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to be so… blunt.”

“Well, maybe not in those exact words, but…” Y/N paused, looking up at him with a softer expression. “Is it true, though? I mean, you said you wanted me, in all the ways.”

San looked down at her, his gaze suddenly more serious. He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Yeah, it’s true. I do want you, Y/N. In every way. I want to be with you, and… well, I wasn’t lying about how good you are at, uh, you know…”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his sincerity. She reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “You could have just said that, you know. I didn’t need the drunken confession.”

San laughed, the tension easing out of him. “Yeah, well, I guess I have a way with words when I’m drunk.”

“Apparently,” Y/N teased, leaning in to kiss him softly. “But just so you know, you don’t need to be drunk to tell me what you want.”

San smiled against her lips, pulling her closer. “Good to know. But, um, just for the record… you are really good at it.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she kissed him again. “Noted. Now, how about we have some breakfast before you embarrass yourself even more?”

San grinned, his embarrassment melting away as he followed her to the kitchen. “Sounds like a plan. But, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe later… we can revisit that conversation?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but the smile on her face said it all. “We’ll see, Casanova. We’ll see.”

Mingi

Mingi was sprawled out next to Y/N, his face buried in the pillow, snoring softly.

Y/N smiled, the memory of his drunken confession replaying in her mind. She knew he wouldn’t remember a thing, and the thought of telling him made her giggle to herself.

A few minutes later, Mingi began to stir. He groaned, rubbing his face with one hand as he slowly woke up. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning,” Y/N replied, watching as he blinked groggily at her. She decided to let him wake up a bit more before dropping the bombshell.

After a few minutes of stretching and trying to shake off the remnants of his hangover, Mingi turned to Y/N with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night, did I?”

Y/N couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “Well, actually, there was one thing…”

Mingi’s eyebrows shot up, a mix of curiosity and concern crossing his features. “Oh no, what did I do?”

She bit her lip, trying to suppress her laughter. “You, um, you told me something very interesting.”

He sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued. “What did I say?”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep a straight face. “You said that you wanted to… rub your dick between my boobs.”

For a moment, there was complete silence. Mingi’s eyes widened, and his face flushed bright red as the words sank in. “I… I did?”

Y/N nodded, biting her lip to keep from bursting into laughter again. “You did. Very seriously, I might add.”

Mingi buried his face in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I said that!”

Y/N reached over, pulling his hands away from his face so she could see him. “It’s okay, really. It was actually kind of hilarious.”

He peeked at her through his fingers, his ears still burning. “But… I mean, that’s not really something you say when you’re drunk, right? Like, that’s… wow.”

Y/N chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Well, it’s something you said when you were drunk. And honestly, I wasn’t offended or anything. It was just funny.”

Mingi finally lowered his hands, though his cheeks were still tinged pink. “I just… how did I never think of that while sober? Like, now that I’m thinking about it, it’s not a bad idea…”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she laughed, shaking her head. “Mingi, I can’t believe you’re considering this right now.”

He shrugged, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Hey, just because drunk Mingi said it doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea. Maybe he was onto something.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Well, we can talk about it later, sober Mingi. Let’s just get some breakfast first.”

Mingi nodded, still grinning as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Sounds good. But just so you know… I’m definitely going to remember this idea.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she got out of bed. “I’m sure you will, babe. I’m sure you will.”

Wooyoung

Y/N woke up to the sound of Wooyoung's soft breathing beside her. She smiled, remembering the events of the previous night. His sudden confession had caught her off guard, and she was curious to see if he remembered any of it.

As if on cue, Wooyoung stirred, blinking his eyes open. He groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "What happened last night?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/N chuckled softly, rolling over to face him. "You had a good time with the boys, that's for sure. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got punched repeatedly," he admitted, wincing. "Did I do anything embarrassing?"

Y/N bit her lip to hold back a laugh. "Oh, you could say that," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Wooyoung's brow furrowed in confusion. "What did I do?"

"Well," Y/N began, sitting up and leaning on her elbow, "you came home pretty drunk, which is fine. But then, you started telling me all sorts of things."

He looked at her with wide eyes. "Like what?"

Y/N grinned, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. "You told me I was pretty, which was sweet. But then... you asked me to tie you up."

Wooyoung froze, his eyes going wide as he processed her words. "Wait, what?" he stammered, his face flushing red. "I asked you to do what?"

"You asked me to tie you up during sex," Y/N repeated, barely holding back her laughter at his mortified expression. "You said you thought it would be fun and that you think about it all the time."

He buried his face in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. "Oh my God, I can't believe I said that. I don’t even remember! Did I really say that?"

Y/N nodded, still chuckling. "You were very serious about it too. You even made me promise not to forget."

Wooyoung peeked at her through his fingers, his face still flushed. "And... what did you say?"

"I said we’d talk about it in the morning when you were sober," she replied, smiling warmly. "So, here we are."

He flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. "I’m never drinking again," he muttered.

Y/N laughed and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "It’s okay, Wooyoung. We can just forget about it if you want."

Wooyoung hesitated, then looked at her thoughtfully. "I mean, maybe we don’t have to forget about it," he said slowly, surprising both himself and Y/N. "I mean, if you’re okay with it, we could… explore it. But only if you’re comfortable."

Y/N's eyes softened at his honesty. "We can talk more about it when you're feeling better," she said gently. "There’s no rush, and we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for."

Wooyoung nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Y/N. I’m glad you’re the one I blurted that out to."

She smiled, lying back down beside him. "I’m glad too. Now, how about we get some breakfast and forget about last night for a little while?"

He sighed in relief, snuggling closer to her. "Sounds perfect. But Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don’t tell the boys."

She burst out laughing, her laughter filling the room as Wooyoung hid his face in her shoulder, groaning in mock despair.

Jongho

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. She stretched lazily, feeling the empty space beside her in bed. Jongho must have gotten up early, she thought. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the events of the previous night came flooding back, making her chuckle.

She got out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where she found Jongho standing by the stove, humming softly as he cooked breakfast. He looked surprisingly refreshed despite the amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before. His hair was slightly tousled, and he was wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants, looking every bit the picture of domestic bliss.

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted, sliding her arms around his waist from behind and resting her head on his back.

Jongho turned his head slightly, smiling as he placed a hand over hers. “Morning, babe. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” she replied, her voice still tinged with amusement. “How about you? Feeling okay after last night?”

Jongho laughed, a bit sheepish. “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t usually drink that much, but the guys were in a celebratory mood, and… well, you know how it goes.”

Y/N nodded, remembering his drunken antics all too well. She decided to tease him a little, knowing he wouldn’t remember everything. “You were pretty funny last night, you know.”

“Was I?” Jongho asked, flipping a pancake onto a plate. “What did I do?”

“Oh, you know… just the usual drunken storytelling, laughing at Seonghwa trying to dance on tables, Hongjoong’s singing,” she began, her tone casual. “And then, there was that one thing you said… right before I went to the bathroom.”

Jongho furrowed his brows, turning around to face her, clearly trying to recall the moment. “What did I say?”

Y/N bit her lip, holding back a grin. “You said, very seriously, that one night, during sex, when I’m in doggy, you want to spank my ass.”

Jongho’s eyes widened in shock, his face flushing bright red. “I… I said that?”

“You did,” she confirmed, unable to contain her laughter as she watched his mortified expression. “And you were very sincere about it, too.”

Jongho groaned. “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Y/N stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, her laughter subsiding into a warm smile. “Hey, it’s okay. It was kind of adorable, honestly.”

He peeked at her through his fingers, still embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “In fact, I think it’s cute that you’re comfortable enough to say stuff like that, even when you’re tipsy.”

Jongho sighed, finally lowering his hands. “Well, if I’m being honest… I do like your ass a lot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his bashful confession. She reached up to cup his cheek, pulling him down for a soft kiss. “I’m glad you like it,” she murmured against his lips.

He kissed her back, his arms encircling her waist. “I love everything about you, Y/N. Even when I’m being a drunken idiot.”

“And I love you,” she replied, her voice full of affection. “Even when you say silly things.”

Jongho chuckled, pulling her closer. “I’ll try to keep my confessions a little less… colorful next time.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N teased, resting her head on his shoulder. “I kind of like it when you’re honest, even if it’s a little embarrassing.”

They stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, before Jongho finally spoke. “So, about that breakfast…”

Y/N laughed, letting him go. “Let’s eat, and maybe we can revisit that conversation later, when you’re not so mortified.”

Jongho grinned, his embarrassment fading into warmth. “Deal.”

[newworldwritings]

The Next Morning

hyungline x f!reader

Genre: humour, explicit, fluff

Warnings: MDNI 18+

a/n: i saw that a couple of you when you read drunkteez u were interested in seeing the boys' reactions the next morning and what they said, so here it is, enjoy xx

Hongjoong

Hongjoong woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth dry as sandpaper. Squinting through the haze of his hangover, he found himself lying in bed, the sunlight streaming through the curtains making his head throb even more.

Y/N was sitting on the edge of the bed, a bemused smile on her face as she sipped her coffee. Seeing him stir, she set the cup down and leaned closer. "Morning, sleepyhead," she teased.

Hongjoong groaned, trying to sit up but wincing from the pain. "What happened last night?" he mumbled, rubbing his temples.

Y/N’s smile widened. "Oh, just the usual. You got pretty hammered and said some interesting things."

Hongjoong's eyes widened with concern. "What kind of things?"

She smirked, trying to suppress a laugh. "Well, at one point, you looked me dead in the eye and asked if I’d ride you like a noble steed."

Hongjoong’s face turned bright red. "You’re kidding."

Y/N shook her head, still amused. "Nope. I was tempted to pull out my phone and record you, but I didn’t want to embarrass you too much."

Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, mortified. "Please tell me I didn’t actually say that."

Y/N laughed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Oh, you definitely did. And just for the record, you’re lucky I find you charming even when you’re drunk."

He groaned again, trying to process the embarrassment while Y/N’s laughter echoed in his ears. "Never again," he muttered.

"Sure, sure," she said, patting his back. "Just make sure to take it easy next time. And maybe let’s avoid any more requests for medieval-themed activities."

Hongjoong could only nod, still hiding his face, while Y/N continued to chuckle at his expense.

Seonghwa

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room. Y/N stirred first, blinking against the sunlight as she slowly came to her senses. Seonghwa was still asleep beside her, his hand loosely gripping hers, a peaceful expression on his face. She smiled, the events of the previous night coming back to her.

Carefully, she slipped out of his grasp and headed to the kitchen, deciding to make some coffee before he woke up. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee soon filled the air, and as Y/N poured two mugs, she heard the sound of shuffling feet behind her.

"Morning," Seonghwa's voice came, still groggy with sleep. He leaned against the doorway, rubbing his eyes as he tried to shake off the remnants of his hangover.

"Morning," Y/N replied with a warm smile, holding out a mug to him. "How are you feeling?"

He took the mug gratefully, taking a cautious sip before answering. "Like I got hit by a truck," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "I barely remember anything from last night."

Y/N chuckled, motioning for him to sit down at the small kitchen table. "Well, you were pretty out of it. We had quite the adventure getting you home."

Seonghwa winced slightly, sitting down and running a hand through his messy hair. "I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, did I?"

Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing, taking a seat across from him. "You were mostly just your usual charming self," she said teasingly. "But there was one thing you said that was… interesting."

Seonghwa's eyes widened slightly, a look of curiosity mixed with apprehension crossing his face. "Oh no, what did I say?"

She hesitated for a moment, trying to keep a straight face. "Well, you mentioned something about wanting me to, uh… choke you during sex."

Seonghwa froze, his eyes widening in horror as a deep blush spread across his cheeks. "I said what?"

Y/N couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer, the memory of his drunken confession too much to keep to herself. "Yeah, you were very sincere about it, too," she managed to say between giggles.

Seonghwa groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing. I can’t believe I said that."

Y/N reached across the table, gently placing her hand on his. "Hey, it’s okay," she said softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "We all say weird things when we’re drunk. Besides, it’s not like I’m judging you for it."

He peeked at her from between his fingers, still mortified but comforted by her understanding. "I just… I didn’t want to freak you out or anything."

Y/N smiled, her eyes warm as she looked at him. "You didn’t freak me out, Hwa. It actually made me realize how much you trust me. That means a lot."

Seonghwa finally lowered his hands, his embarrassment fading into something more tender. He reached out to intertwine their fingers, giving her a grateful look. "I really do trust you, Y/N. With everything."

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand. "And I trust you too, Seonghwa. No matter what you say—drunk or sober—I’m here for you."

He smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he relaxed into the moment. "I love you," he said softly, his eyes filled with affection.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, her heart swelling with emotion.

Yunho

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Yunho groaned softly, the remnants of his hangover pressing against his temples. He blinked his eyes open, squinting at the brightness before he noticed Y/N sitting at the edge of the bed, a cup of coffee in her hands and a knowing smile on her face.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," she teased, handing him the coffee as he sat up, rubbing his face.

Yunho took a grateful sip, the warmth soothing his slightly throbbing head. "Morning," he mumbled, still trying to piece together the events of the previous night. "Did I do anything stupid?"

Y/N chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, you were quite the chatterbox last night."

Yunho raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What did I say?"

Taking another sip from her own cup, Y/N leaned in a little closer, her voice light and playful. "You told me all about your fight with a kangaroo... and then, you got really serious and said something about wanting to... you know... do it in the car, in the middle of the city where everyone could see."

Yunho froze mid-sip, his eyes widening as he processed her words. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, but instead of getting embarrassed, a slow smirk spread across his face. He put the cup down and looked at her, his expression equal parts amused and thoughtful.

"Did I, now?" he mused, a hint of playful challenge in his voice. "Well, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had."

Y/N's jaw dropped slightly at his response, her face flushing a deeper shade of pink. "You're not serious," she said, half-laughing, half-nervous.

Yunho leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Why not? Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? A little bit of adventure never hurt anyone."

She stared at him in disbelief, a mixture of amusement and exasperation bubbling inside her. "Yunho, you were drunk! That wasn’t you talking, that was the alcohol."

He shrugged, still smirking. "Maybe, but now that you’ve mentioned it, it’s not like I can stop thinking about it." He reached out, gently taking her hand and pulling her closer to him. "What do you say, Y/N? Up for a little spontaneity?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "You’re impossible, Yunho," she said, shaking her head, but there was a spark of intrigue in her eyes.

Yunho grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "That’s why you love me," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She sighed, leaning into him. "Just promise me one thing," she murmured.

"Anything."

"Let’s save the wild ideas for when you’re sober next time, okay?"

Yunho laughed, the sound rich and full. "Deal," he agreed, but the playful glint in his eyes told her that this wouldn’t be the last time he brought it up.

Yeosang

Y/N stirred in bed, her head pounding slightly from the previous night's indulgence. She groaned quietly, rubbing her temples as the memories of their drunken escapades began to filter back into her mind.

Beside her, Yeosang shifted, his face buried in the pillow as he mumbled something incoherent. His hair was a mess, and he looked as disheveled as Y/N felt. She smiled at the sight, a wave of affection washing over her as she recalled his silly, drunken confession from the night before.

Sitting up slowly, Y/N stretched, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the dull throb in her head. As she looked around the room, the events of the previous night replayed in her mind like a hazy dream—stumbling into the apartment, the shared laughter, and, of course, Yeosang's bold declaration.

She glanced over at the windows, the city now bathed in the gentle light of the early morning. An idea sparked in her mind, and a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her lips. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb Yeosang, who was still half-asleep.

Padding over to the windows, Y/N stood in front of them, the light from outside illuminating her figure. She turned her head slightly, glancing back at Yeosang with a teasing glint in her eyes. The memory of his words—"one night, I want to have sex right here"—echoed in her mind, and she couldn't resist playing along.

Yeosang stirred again, this time lifting his head groggily as he tried to orient himself. His eyes found Y/N standing by the windows, the morning light framing her in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. For a moment, he was confused, the events of last night still a jumble in his mind. But then, as he saw the playful expression on her face, it all came rushing back—the fumbling in the dark, the laughter, and his own tipsy confession.

"Y/N..." he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep as he propped himself up on one elbow. "What are you doing?"

Y/N didn’t say anything at first, just continued to look at him with that teasing smile, her body angled slightly toward the glass. "Just thinking about what you said last night," she finally replied, her tone light and full of amusement. "Something about these windows... and the city lights."

Yeosang’s eyes widened slightly as the memory fully clicked into place, and he felt a flush creep up his neck. He groaned, half in embarrassment, half in amusement, and flopped back down onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. "Oh God, did I really say that?"

Y/N laughed softly, her voice filled with warmth. "You did," she confirmed, moving away from the windows and back toward the bed. "And you were so serious about it, too."

Peeking out from behind his hands, Yeosang looked up at her, his expression a mix of sheepishness and fondness. "I was drunk," he said, as if that excused everything.

Y/N leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "I know," she whispered, her smile turning tender. "But it was cute, in a way."

Yeosang groaned again, but there was a smile playing on his lips as well. "I can’t believe I said that," he muttered, shaking his head. "But... you were right. It would be beautiful, though."

Y/N nodded, settling back down on the bed beside him, her head resting on his chest. "One day," she echoed, the two of them sharing a quiet moment of understanding.

They lay there together, the memories of the night before gradually fading into the comfortable silence of the morning. The city continued to hum outside, but within the walls of their apartment, everything was calm and peaceful. Y/N closed her eyes, the remnants of her hangover slowly easing as she listened to Yeosang’s steady heartbeat.

[newworldwritings]

Heartbeat

౨ৎ PAIRING— park seonghwa x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— angst, fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, vampire!seonghwa

౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, mentions of blood, vampire themes, halloween themes, fluff

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 3.0k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— it’s a relaxing halloween night with your boyfriend seonghwa, until a movie brings out his true nature.

౨ৎ A/N— tysm for reading!! feedback is appreciated!!

“Are you sure you’re okay staying in tonight? It’s Halloween,” Seonghwa asks, biting his lip worriedly while he looks at you.

You glance over at him, “If you want to stay in, I’ll stay in with you.”

“I don’t want to make you miss the fun just because of me,” he pouts as you walk over to him with the candy bowl and a blanket.

“I’ll have much more fun with you than I would at some lame, stuffy party,” you respond with a wave of your hand.

“But—” Seonghwa tries to argue, but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it, Hwa,” you smile, sitting down beside him. “We can watch movies and stuff.”

“Okay,” he replies, sighing, obviously still worried about messing up your night.

“Oh! There’s a new vampire movie,” you point out, scrolling through the movies on the TV.

Seonghwa freezes, swallowing, as he glances at you. Subconsciously, he runs his tongue across his teeth, making you furrow your eyebrows when you give him a sideways look.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Huh?” he looks at you as if he hadn’t heard you. “Oh, um, nothing.”

“Alright…” you trail off, clicking the movie, letting it start playing. Seonghwa shifts beside you, nervous.

But, he soon starts to calm down as you cuddle into his side, the movie starting. Maybe he can get through this.

After about thirty minutes of the movie, Seonghwa is struggling. The vampires on the TV, even though they make Seonghwa cringe, are also making him jealous. He can’t remember the last time he was able to drink blood from an actual human.

It was making him feel dizzy, being this close to you and watching a movie like this at the same time. Just when he starts to think he’s going to have to excuse himself to take a breather, you pause the movie, stretching. “I’m gonna use the restroom really quick,” you inform him before you press a quick kiss to the side of his head, standing to go to the bathroom.

When you exit the room, Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief, his vision clearing slightly, the dizziness fading slowly. He feels his fangs slowly retract back into his gums, and he hopes his eyes are still brown instead of red.

“Do you want me to get you something from the kitchen?” you ask when you reenter the room, looking over at the couch.

“No, I’m good, love,” Seonghwa responds, his voice a little raspy, making you tilt your head at him, concerned.

“Are you sick, baby?” you ask, walking over to him, carrying your glass of water.

“No, I’m just tired,” he responds, offering you a reassuring smile.

“Wanna finish the movie, or are you sick of it?” you ask, laughing slightly. “It’s pretty scary.”

“I’m not scared. We can finish it if you want to, unless it’s scaring you,” Seonghwa tells you, against his better judgment, but he’s already ruining your night by forcing you to stay in on Halloween.

“We can finish it,” you shrug, snuggling back into Seonghwa, noticing when he tenses slightly, but decide to let it slide.

Ding dong.

“First kid of the night, I suppose,” you laugh slightly, getting up from the couch to go and open the door, leaving Seonghwa sitting.

“Trick or treat!” the little boy exclaims, dressed as a vampire.

You smile at him, “Vampires are popular this year, huh?”

He nods, grinning, “Yeah! All the cool people are dressed as vampires!”

“Nice!” you exclaim, dropping some candy into his bucket, before bidding him a good night, watching as he runs back to his mom, who smiles at you in thanks for the candy.

As you close the door, you turn back around to face Seonghwa, seeing him facedown on the couch, making you shake your head, laughing slightly.

“What’s wrong, Hwa?” you ask, slightly confused when he doesn’t immediately respond.

Walking over to him, you shake him gently, watching as he rolls over a little, peeking up at you, but barely letting you see his face.

“Seonghwa?” you ask, laughing as you gently shove him, knowing he’s joking with you.

“I think maybe I should go home,” Seonghwa mumbles into the pillow, making you frown, really confused now.

“What?” you ask, blinking and pouting. “Why? You just got here.”

“I just really think, um, I need to go,” he mutters, his voice sounding an octave deeper than normal, but it’s probably just because he’s talking into the pillow.

“Come on,” you pout again. “It can’t be that bad! You were okay a few minutes ago.”

“I just started—” he pauses, sucking in a breath. “Uh, feeling sick.”

“Do you need something? I could—”

“No! No, I just… I’ll go,” Seonghwa stands hastily, shakily, moving around the couch, still not letting you see his face.

“Park Seonghwa!” you snap, gripping his wrist. He freezes, unmoving, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“What?” you ask quietly.

Seonghwa slowly turns around, the eyes that meet yours not your boyfriend’s usual eyes. These are crimson red and glaring. You’re taken aback for a moment, but you don’t release his wrist yet, because now you’re frozen, staring into his eyes.

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Seonghwa takes a single step closer to you, his voice deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine.

“S-Seonghwa?” you question, before you realize. It’s Halloween. With a laugh, your face softens away from the fear. “Haha, good one.”

“Hm?” he hums, tilting his head slightly, watching with predatory eyes as you bite your bottom lip absentmindedly.

“It’s Halloween,” you laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” he responds, his hand shifting to grasp your wrist in a semi-tight grip where you had been holding his before.

“You’re being scary on purpose,” you nod at him, gaze flickering across his face. “You are… aren’t you?”

“You’re scared?” Seonghwa asks, crimson eyes snapping up to meet yours, making genuine fear catch in your chest.

“I—” you trail off, starting to grow more anxious at the frightening gleam in his eyes.

“Darling?” Seonghwa starts, phrasing it as a question as he slowly begins lifting your wrist to his face.

“Y-yeah?” you ask, swallowing.

“Would you mind if I…” his gaze falls to your wrist, brushing his velvety lips against your skin, right above your pulse. “Have a taste?”

“Seonghwa,” you furrow your eyebrows with a small eye roll. “This isn’t funny! I know you heard what I said to that kid.”

“Mhm,” Seonghwa hums absentmindedly, his attention still on your wrist.

“Hwa, baby,” you whimper, feeling yourself grow a little shaky in his grip.

Seonghwa’s eyes snap back up to yours, softening slightly at the pet name before he gently tugs you closer. You stick your ground, though, too scared to follow him, though you usually would with no hesitation.

This proves to be a bad idea, however, because Seonghwa releases a low growl, yanking you into him. You crash into him with a surprised yelp, but he catches you easily.

“It’s best not to resist, darling,” Seonghwa coos, his hand lifting to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

“I didn’t agree to this role play thing or whatever the heck you’re doing,” you snap, trying to yank your arm away, but his grip is frighteningly strong and he doesn’t budge at all. Instead, he holds you tighter.

“Role play?” he questions, chuckling lowly with a smirk before his smile fades, replaced with a fierce gaze that has you cowering in fear.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to consent to something like that before you just freak me out like this by acting like a vampire!” you exclaim, growing more and more freaked out.

“Acting?” Seonghwa purrs, his free hand lifting to brush the tips of his fingers against the base of your throat. “I’m not acting.”

“Yes, you are,” you laugh it off, your hand coming up to grab his, trying to lower it away from your neck. “You have to be, Hwa. Vampires aren’t real.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been slowly trying to back away from him until your back hits the wall, making you try to slide sideways so you won’t be cornered, but Seonghwa beats you to it, pushing you further into the wall and caging you in.

“You won’t mind, will you?” he whispers, his lips moving close to the side of your head, brushing against the shell of your ear. “I’ll make it as painless as I can.”

“No,” you push against his chest, frantic. “You’ve taken this too far, Hwa. Please just stop.”

“Stop? But I haven’t started,” Seonghwa backs his head away slightly, his unnaturally crimson eyes searching your face, and you breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Well, maybe another day you can have your fun, but today I don’t feel like it. I just wanna cuddle you, Hwa. Like we were doing earlier,” you pout, your hands sliding up his chest cautiously, wondering if he would stop the act now.

He wordlessly let's his eyelids flutter shut at your touch, and you’re certain you’ve won him over. But when you try to move, he doesn’t let you and you whimper, growing tired.

“Please, Seonghwa,” you beg, squeezing his biceps beneath your fingers, trying to ground him back to reality.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re rich and soft and brown.

“Hwa?” you question again, warily.

He breathes in deeply with a small, broken groan. “I’m so sorry,” he’s breathless, and you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“Why? You were just playing, right?”

“No, I-I wasn’t,” his chin wobbles slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between his. “I couldn’t tell you when I met you, and I knew you’d leave me if I ever told you, so I just didn’t. I’m so sorry I scared you, and I understand if you want me to leave forever. In fact, I probably should, I—”

Shaking your head, you watch as he starts to move away, and, even though you try to interrupt him, nothing works. Slightly desperate, you quickly lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

He freezes momentarily before he melts into the kiss with a sigh through his nose, gently pushing you back against the wall, his hands coming up to cup your face.

You pull away slightly when you feel several pricks against your bottom lip. “Sorry,” he mumbles against you, but doesn’t try to pull away as you shake your head, only slightly worried, the worry overshadowed by Seonghwa’s intoxicating kisses.

“Hwa, baby,” you mumble between kisses. “Maybe we should calm down.”

“Y-yeah,” his voice is husky and wobbly as he pulls away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours, his skin slightly sweaty against yours. “It’s hard to… control myself sometimes.”

“Because you need to… eat?”

He blinks at you, flashes of crimson hear and there before he sighs, nodding defeatedly, “It’s been a while.”

“How long is a while?” you ask, genuinely interested, though you should honestly be running for the hills right now.

“Couple months, I guess,” he frowns. “The less I keep up with it the better.”

“Do you need me to help you?” you ask, and his gaze snaps back to yours with a frightened expression.

“Don’t ask me that,” he responds, slightly shaky.

“Why not?” you ask, confused. “I wanna help.”

“No, you don’t,” Seonghwa frowns, sucking in a sharp breath. “I could kill you.”

“But you want me to help you, don’t you?” you ask, your hands gently squeezing his muscular biceps beneath your fingers.

“I—” Seonghwa hesitates, looking down, before he shakes his head, almost frantically. “No! I don’t, please, I—”

“What?” you push, wondering why he’s being so stubborn. “You what?”

“Don’t tempt me!” he snaps suddenly, taking you aback. “I can barely control myself as it is! If you let me feed off of you, I won’t be able to stop and I could kill you! I can’t do that, y/n. Not ever.”

“Hwa,” you coax him to look at you again. “I’m not afraid of you, not now that I know the truth.”

“You were pretty scared earlier.”

“Because I was confused!” you explain, laughing slightly. “I love you, Seonghwa. You won’t hurt me.”

“I will,” he responds, gaze fierce and stubborn.

Rolling your eyes, you lift your wrist back up to his face, watching as his eyes lock on your skin, a hungry look growing in his brown eyes.

“I’ll be okay, Seonghwa,” you tell him again, trying to sound convincing. “I trust you.”

“I don’t trust myself,” he mumbles in response, but contradicts himself by gripping your wrist ever so gently, lifting your hand to brush his lips across your pulse point, so delicately you almost can’t feel it for a moment.

When his gaze finds yours again, his eyes are once again red, but this time they’re much darker. Blood red.

“Will it hurt?” you ask suddenly, and his eyebrows furrow.

“You just said you trust me,” he replies, voice once again deeper than usual.

“I know, but will it be like… actually painful?” you ask, swallowing.

“My bite has what you could call soothing properties once I’m actually drinking the blood,” Seonghwa explains softly, his cold fingers brushing the hair away from your shoulder, exposing your neck to his view. “It’ll pinch at first, like getting four shots all at once, but it’ll subside. Are you sure you want me to do it?”

“You need it, Hwa,” your voice is a little more shaky than you expected but you hope he believes you. “You know when to stop, right?”

“I’m a royal vampire,” he chuckles slightly. “I’m the only kind that knows when to stop.”

“Royal?” your eyes widen, even more confused.

“It just means I’m superior,” Seonghwa teases, making you smile up at him a little, still trying to get used to the red eyes.

“Will you take care of me?” you ask quietly, your hands shaking a little when Seonghwa gently takes them into his.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he replies softly. “I’ll try to make it painless.”

“You said that earlier too,” you point out, giggling slightly.

“I wasn’t in my right mind then,” he responds, running a hand through his hair. “I am now, and I’ll try to stay there. Would you like to move to the couch?”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding nervously.

Once you get over to the couch again, Seonghwa gestures for you to sit down on his lap, making you furrow your eyebrows, slightly confused. “How will this work?”

“I’ll have better access this way,” he responds. “I know it isn’t like the pictures or stories you’ve seen and read, but I do it a little differently if I’m trying to make it feel good.”

“It’ll feel good?” you’re really confused now, but Seonghwa just laughs, his eyes sparkling slightly.

“I told you it has soothing properties to a degree,” he explains. “Some people even get addicted to it.”

“Oh?” you question, your nerves soothed slightly.

“But I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Seonghwa tells you, pulling you a little closer to him once you take a seat on his lap.

“Be careful,” you tell him one last last time, earning a soft smile from Seonghwa as he nods.

When he moves closer to you, his eyelids flutter closed as he breathes you in. “Mm, you smell so good, love,” he whispers, his nose nudging your jaw slightly.

You smile, letting your hands slide to brace against Seonghwa’s chest, preparing for the pain.

“Ready?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin, and all you can do is nod, bracing yourself.

It’s a sharp burst of pain in one spot as his fangs sink into your skin, making you try to flinch away, but Seonghwa lifts a hand, pressing it against the other side of your neck, pushing you further into him.

Soon, however, just like he’d promised, the pain subsides and you release a small sigh, melting into Seonghwa, who hums with pleasure against you, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

It's about five minutes later when Seonghwa pulls away, a pinch of pain coursing through you when his fangs pull out, but he quickly notices, replacing his sharp fangs with his soft lips, pressing a soothing kiss against your neck.

When he pulls away from your neck, he rests his forehead against your shoulder, sucking in a ragged breath.

“Better?” you question, hoping you sound more stable than you feel. The room is literally spinning, but you push through.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice deep and raspy. “So much better.”

“I’m glad,” you respond, moving to get off of Seonghwa’s lap, but your legs are so wobbly that you immediately fall back onto him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Whoa,” Seonghwa chuckles before a wicked smirk grows on his face. “Careful there. Are you falling for me again?”

“Hard not to,” you send him a wink, though you’re still blushing hard. He smiles at you before he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, making you cringe when he tastes like metallic.

“You need to brush your teeth,” you crinkle your nose.

“Thanks for the info,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I will later. First, can we cuddle some more? Maybe without the vampire movie?”

“Of course,” you smile, running a hand through his soft hair. “And just let me know if you ever need me again.”

“I always need you,” Seonghwa responds cheekily, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“You know what I mean,” you tell him, and he smiles.

“I will,” he nods, leaning back against the couch to let you snuggle into him. “Thank you… I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, Hwa,” you respond, smiling against him from where your head is placed against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

Suddenly, you realize, making you lift your head to look at him with wide eyes, meeting his confused gaze.

“Hwa… um, why do you have a heartbeat?”

[newworldwritings]

Baby, Love Me Lights Out | Choi San

❤️ Summary: San comes home after filming content for the Wanteez series. He's drunk and loud, but you can't get mad he woke you up at 2 AM on a work night when his silliness makes up for it.

❤️ Pairing(s): idol!San x GN!Reader

❤️ Genres/Tropes: idol AU, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship

❤️ Warnings/Tags: no use of (Y/N), gender neutral reader, san is drunk, petnames (love, darling, sannie), not beta read

❤️ Wordcount: 1.0 k

❤️ Author's Note: I had to get this one out of my system. My Yunho zombie apocalypse oneshot is like 90% done, but I needed a lil pause from all the angst and BOOM this was created. I present drunk and romantic Sannie!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form.

AO3 Masterlist Click on me!

San insisted on being dropped off at your door instead of returning to the dorm with Mingi and Seonghwa. Their manager was torn on what to do, but with enough drunken encouragement of Seonghwa slurring about young love and San being love-sick, he swerved right onto your street and helped the idol out of the car. If there was someone San could always rely on, it’d be his Seonghwa-hyung. It was decided, he was going to give him a massive hug when they’d see each other again.

The promise was forgotten the second San succeeded in unlocking your apartment (after many failed attempts) with the spare key you gifted him. It was by some miracle San refrained from shouting out his usual ‘Darling I’m home’ and just quietly exchanged his shoes for the slippers assigned to him specifically. The darkness swallowed him whole, but he had no trouble navigating to your bedroom.

The sight of your sleeping figure tucked beneath the covers set off an explosion of warmth in his chest. His face hurt from cheesing too much, but he couldn’t help himself. You looked so  cute and cuddly, like a kitten passed out from a very exciting day of discovering new things. As much as he wanted to pepper you with kisses, trap you in his arms and not let go until you freed yourself from his death grip (much to his dismay), San knew it would wake you up. San may be a lightweight, but he was a self conscious lightweight. You had work in the morning and he’d hate for you to lose sleep over his selfish need for some cuddles.

He granted himself one light peck to the top of your head and ventured back into the living room. The couch would suffice for the night. The sound of rustling sheets accompanied by your hoarse voice stopped him before he could cross the threshold. 

“Sannie?”

Said man hummed in reply and leaned against the doorway. His eyes adjusted to the dark enough to make out you sitting up with the sheet pooling around your waist, hair slightly messy and sleep adorning your eyes.

“When did you get home, baby?”

“Some minutes ago,” he slurred with the brightest grin you had ever seen.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Mhm, need to wash up first.”

“Okay,” You yawned. “Do that baby then let’s cuddle. I’ve missed you.” You laid back down in the comfort of your bed and closed your eyes with the intent to just rest them until San was done.

“Missed you too,” San said to himself as he stumbled into the bathroom.

The minutes ticked away and there was still no drunk San in your bed. You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand. San would never pass up on a cuddle session, whether it be a two second long kiss or being wrapped up in each other’s embrace for hours, he’d be there. It didn’t take a genius for you to figure out something was wrong when the clock on your nightstand showed twenty past two and San was still not beside you. The lack of noise out in the hall added to your suspicion. It was seldom that a drunk man was silent. 

With the quilt wrapped around your shoulders and each foot tucked in your bunny slippers, you went to check on San. You flicked the light switch and lo and behold, your boyfriend laying flat on his back with each limb stretched out akin to a starfish and a pillow slapped on his stomach. He quickly threw an arm over his eyes and hissed from the sudden brightness.

“Sannie? Love? What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“I see that, but don’t you wanna sleep in the bed?”

“I am in bed.”

If it weren’t for the fatigue tugging at your eyelids you’d be hunched over from laughing too hard.  

“Love,” you started, “that’s the living room floor.”

“‘M comfortable,” he insisted and waved his other hand, urging you to let the darkness back out.

“Are you sure? Your back is going to hurt tomorrow and you still have practice for your comeback.”

“I promise, darling. Lights off, please.”

How could you deny him anything when he spoke in that honey smooth voice with his lips jutted out and one arm coming around the pillow he proclaimed as his cuddle buddy?

A few moments later, when the moon was at its highest point in the sky and the streets finally decided to call it a night, a loud noise of something dropping against the floor washed over you like ice cold water. The speed you leaped from the bed would've made long jump athletes fear for their position. The frantic shout of your lover’s name erupted before you could reach the door. Horrid thoughts plagued your mind and it worked over time to create scenarios that could have him nursing an injury. Everything from falling and cracking open his head to dropping something heavy on his feet. 

Ripping open your bedroom door, you relaxed to see him unscathed and in the same condition you left him; alive and breathing. However, the accommodation was entirely different and you understood where that loud thunk came from. San was no longer laying on the floor, no. He had somehow managed to open one of your old suitcases and shuffled inside it with his previously worn t-shirt used as a blanket.

Breathing out in relief you retrieved your phone from your nightstand and snapped a couple photos of his unconscious form folded into the bag.

“Sannie?”

“Lights off!” He whined and pulled the shirt over his face.

“Love, no. Come on. Let’s get to bed.” 

You gently took the fabric from him and slipped your hand into his, weaving your fingers together and giving it a gentle tug.

“Wanna sleep here~”

Despite his complaint, he listened to you and for the third time that night, you were back in bed but with your lovely boyfriend to keep you company. The trail of kisses you pressed on his neck, cheeks and nose were apologies for your future actions. The photos captured in your camera roll would serve their purpose sooner or later, until then you’d remind him of your never ending love and hope it would suffice as a good enough apology (it would, he could never be angry with you).

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[newworldwritings]

ups and downs

san x f!reader

fluff, suggestive, smut/ wc: 2.6k

warnings: suggestive content!! sex scenes, kissing, injury

note: i was really afraid of writing this! san's just such a good boyfriend, takes such good care of his gf i want what they have TT . if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

san masterlist - main masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Y/n stirred, stretching lazily as she woke up. She turned to find San watching her, a soft smile on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful," San whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"Good morning," Y/n replied, her voice still groggy from sleep. "What's with the smile?"

San's grin widened. "Pack your bags. We're going to Jeju Island for the weekend."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. "Are you serious?"

San nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "I've got everything planned. It's going to be amazing."

They spent the morning packing their bags and then headed to the airport. The flight to Jeju was short but filled with anticipation. San held Y/n's hand the entire time, occasionally squeezing it and giving her reassuring smiles.

As they landed on the island, Y/n marveled at the beauty of Jeju. The clear blue skies, lush greenery, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filled her with a sense of adventure and tranquility.

They picked up a rental car and headed to their hotel, a charming seaside resort with a stunning view of the ocean. Their room was spacious and beautifully decorated, with a balcony overlooking the beach.

"Wow, San, this is perfect," Y/n said, looking out at the view.

San wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'm glad you like it. We've got a lot planned for this weekend."

Their first day was filled with exploration. They visited the famous Seongsan Ilchulbong, also known as Sunrise Peak. The hike to the top was challenging, but the view was worth every step. 

"Ready for this?" San asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/n nodded, determination set on her face. "Absolutely. Let's do this."

They began their ascent, the path winding through lush greenery and rocky terrain. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of birds chirping. As they climbed higher, the views became more breathtaking, the ocean stretching out endlessly below them.

San held Y/n's hand, helping her over particularly steep sections. "You've got this," he encouraged, his voice steady and supportive. Y/n smiled, grateful for his presence.

They paused occasionally to catch their breath and take in the scenery. At one point, they found a small clearing with a bench overlooking the ocean. They sat down, enjoying the cool breeze and the stunning view.

"This is amazing," Y/n said, her eyes wide with wonder.

San nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "It really is. I'm so glad we're doing this together."

After a brief rest, they continued their climb, the path growing steeper and more challenging. Their legs ached, and their breaths came in short gasps, but they pushed on, driven by the promise of the view at the top. San was a few steps ahead, offering encouragement and helping Y/n over particularly tricky sections.

Just as they approached a narrow, rocky part of the path, Y/n's foot slipped on a loose rock. She lost her balance and fell, scraping her knee and landing hard on her side. The sudden fall left her gasping in pain and shock.

"Y/n!" San exclaimed, quickly turning and rushing to her side. His heart pounded with fear as he knelt beside her, his hands gently touching her shoulders. "Are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

Y/n winced, sitting up slowly and examining her knee. "I... I scraped my knee pretty badly," she said, her voice shaky. "But I think everything else is okay."

San's eyes scanned her injury, relief flooding him when he saw that her ankle was uninjured. Her knee, however, was scraped and bleeding. He could see the pain in her eyes, and his heart ached for her.

"Stay still," he said softly, his voice steady despite the panic he felt. "Let me take a look."

He carefully examined her knee, his touch gentle yet firm. Y/n watched him, her eyes glistening with tears of pain and frustration. "I'm sorry, San. I didn't mean to ruin our hike."

San looked up at her, his expression tender. "Hey, don't say that. It's not your fault. Accidents happen." He gave her a reassuring smile. "We're going to get you down safely, okay?"

Y/n nodded, trusting him completely. San took a deep breath and gently helped her to her feet, supporting her as she tested her weight on her legs. "Lean on me," he instructed. "We'll take it slow."

The descent was slower than before, each step taken with care to avoid aggravating Y/n's injury. San kept his arm around her, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of her pain. They stopped frequently to rest, San checking her knee to make sure it wasn't getting worse.

With patience and care, they finally made it back to the base. San led Y/n to a bench, helping her sit down. "I'm going to get some ice for your knee and clean up the scrape. Stay here, okay?"

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. She watched as San hurried to a nearby visitor center, returning quickly with a first aid kit and a bag of ice.

"Here," he said gently, kneeling in front of her. He cleaned the scrape on her knee, his touch tender and precise. Then he carefully wrapped the ice pack around her knee to help with the swelling. "This should help."

Y/n smiled through her discomfort, grateful for his care. "Thank you, San. You're always taking care of me."

San looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of love and concern. "I always will, Y/n. You're too important to me."

They sat there for a while, the sun setting behind them, casting a golden glow over the landscape. Despite the mishap, the beauty of the moment wasn't lost on them. San held Y/n's hand, their connection stronger than ever.

As the last light of the sun disappeared, San helped Y/n to their car. "Let's get you back to the hotel," he said. "We'll take it easy tonight, and tomorrow we'll find something less strenuous to do."

Y/n nodded, leaning on him for support. "That sounds perfect."

They made their way back to the hotel, where San helped Y/n to their room. Despite the tiring day and the incident, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each moment they spent together.

As they entered their room, San helped Y/n to sit on the bed. "Let's get ready for dinner," he said, glancing at the clock. "We have reservations in an hour. Do you think you'll be okay to go?"

Y/n nodded, smiling warmly. "I think I'll manage. Thank you, San, for everything today."

San brushed her hair back gently. "You don't have to thank me, Y/n. I just want you to be happy and safe."

As San turned to get ready, Y/n's gratitude and love for him overwhelmed her. She stood up, ignoring the slight pain in her knee, and moved closer to him. "San," she called softly.

He turned around, surprised to see her standing so close. "Y/n, you should be resting."

Before he could say more, Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It started as a gentle, grateful kiss, but soon it deepened, fueled by the day's emotions and the intensity of their bond.

San hesitated for a moment, concerned about her knee, but the warmth of her lips and the urgency in her touch dispelled his worries. He kissed her back, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her closer.

"Y/n," he whispered between kisses, "we should get ready for dinner."

"I know," she murmured against his lips, "but I can't help it. I want you to know how much you mean to me."

San's heart raced as her words sank in. He gently guided her back to the bed, sitting her down and kneeling in front of her. "I know, Y/n. I feel the same way." He kissed her again, his hands caressing her face and sliding down to her shoulders.

Y/n's hands roamed over his back, feeling the strength and warmth of him. The heat between them grew, and they both knew where this was heading. San's hands moved to her waist, San lifted her gently, being mindful of her injured knee, and laid her down on the bed. He climbed in beside her, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The kisses grew more passionate, hands exploring and clothes slowly coming off.

San's touches were gentle and deliberate, making sure Y/n was comfortable and enjoying every moment. He worshipped her with his hands and lips, eliciting soft moans and whispers from her.

San pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. "Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" he whispered, his voice a soothing balm.

Y/n nodded, her trust in him unwavering. "I will," she promised, her voice breathless with anticipation.

With a soft smile, San continued, his hands moving to remove the last barriers between them. He kissed her slowly, deeply, his lips a gentle pressure against hers. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour, as if memorizing her by touch alone. Each kiss, each caress was a testament to his love and reverence for her.

San's dominant side began to emerge, but it was tempered by his unwavering respect and care. He gently guided her hands above her head, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Keep them here," he murmured against her lips, his tone firm yet loving.

Y/n shivered at his words, her body responding to his command. She felt a thrill of excitement course through her, knowing she was safe and cherished in his hands.

San's lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses. He paused at her collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. His hands slid down her sides, teasing and exploring, until they reached her hips. He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers.

He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction. His mouth descended, and he began to worship her with his lips and tongue. Y/n's moans filled the room, her back arching off the bed as he skillfully brought her pleasure. San groaned softly, the sound vibrating against her, heightening her senses.

He continued, his focus entirely on her, until she was trembling beneath him. As she reached her peak, he held her hips steady, his movements becoming more intense. Her cries of pleasure echoed around them, and he drank in every sound, every shiver, with a deep sense of satisfaction.

When she finally came down from her high, San moved back up, kissing her tenderly. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and love.

Y/n pulled him closer, her hands finding their way to his hair. "I want you, San," she breathed, her eyes locked onto his.

San's heart raced at her words, but he maintained control, wanting to prolong the moment. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice a gentle command. "I want to take my time with you."

He kissed her again, his hands exploring her body with renewed purpose. He could feel his own desire building, but he held back, wanting to savor every second. His kisses grew more intense, his touch more insistent, as he pushed both of them to the edge of control.

When he finally couldn't hold back any longer, he positioned himself at her entrance, pausing to look into her eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n nodded, her eyes shining with trust and love. "Yes, San. I'm ready."

With a slow, deliberate movement, he entered her, his breath hitching at the sensation. He started off gently, letting her adjust to the feeling, but as the intensity built, he began to move faster, his control slipping. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his groans and moans mingling with hers.

They moved together, their bodies in perfect harmony, each thrust bringing them closer to the edge. San's pace quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, yet he never lost his focus on her pleasure. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You feel so good," he groaned, his voice a rough whisper.

Y/n's hands clutched at his back, her nails digging in slightly as she lost herself in the moment. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion, their shared breath and whispered words of love.

As they reached their peak together, the intensity of their connection seemed to explode, leaving them both trembling and breathless. San collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, holding her close as they both came down from the high.

"I love you, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "So much."

Y/n snuggled closer, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "I love you too, San. Always."

After the intensity of their intimate moment subsided, San and Y/n lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of their love. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing.

San brushed a strand of hair from Y/n's face, smiling softly. "I think we should get ready for dinner for real this time. You must be starving by now."

Y/n laughed, her stomach growling as if on cue. "Yeah, I guess I am. Let's get dressed."

They reluctantly untangled themselves, both feeling the lingering warmth of their connection. As they dressed, San couldn't help but steal glances at Y/n, his heart swelling with love and pride. She caught his eye and smiled, a blush coloring her cheeks.

Once they were ready, they headed out to the restaurant they had planned to visit. The walk through the bustling streets of Jeju was filled with light chatter and laughter, the earlier tension completely gone. They arrived at a cozy restaurant, its warm lighting and inviting aroma promising a delightful meal.

San held the door open for Y/n, his hand gently resting on her lower back as they entered. The hostess greeted them with a warm smile and led them to a quiet table near the window, where they could enjoy the view of the city lights reflecting on the water.

As they settled into their seats, San reached across the table, taking Y/n's hand in his. "How's your knee feeling?" he asked, concern still evident in his voice.

Y/n smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "It's fine, really. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Now, let's enjoy our dinner."

They perused the menu, deciding to order a variety of dishes to share. The food arrived quickly, and they eagerly dug in, savoring the flavors and enjoying each other's company. The atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the earlier events of the day feeling like a distant memory.

Between bites, they talked about everything and nothing, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Y/n recounted funny stories from her latest book, and San shared amusing anecdotes from his training days.

As the evening progressed, they found themselves lost in each other, the outside world fading away. The restaurant began to empty out, the waitstaff subtly hinting that it was closing time. They paid the bill and headed back to their hotel, the night air cool and refreshing.

Back in their room, they changed into their pajamas and settled onto the bed, their bodies instinctively finding each other. San wrapped his arms around Y/n, pulling her close, his breath warm against her neck.

"Today was amazing, thank you" Y/n whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. 

San kissed her temple, his heart full. "I'd do anything for you, Y/n. Always."

They lay there in the darkness, the steady rhythm of their breathing lulling them into a peaceful sleep. The day had been filled with ups and downs, but they faced it all together, their love growing stronger with each passing moment.

-

taglist: @dinossaurz @taz-97 @soso59love-blog @tiredlittlevirgo @everythingboutkpop @abibliolife @k-zuzu @ateezswonderland

[newworldwritings]

quiet affection

↖ navigation: ateez masterlist || main masterlist 

pairing: bf! yunho x gn! reader

↬ tags: i might just make sleepy fics my personality right now, super fluffy + written on a whim!, another short work hehet <3

summary: a sleepy, affectionate moment unfolds as he snuggles into your embrace on the sofa, finding comfort and warmth in your presence

word count: 397 words

you hear the soft pattering of his feet against the wooden flooring before you see him emerge in your line of vision. hair mused up, shirt askew and eyes barely opened, yunho makes his way towards you.

your relaxed form on the sofa jerked downwards as he sat down on it heavily, sleep lacing his veins. back leaning against the armrest, you secretly took a picture of him: all cuddly and tired.

"why didn't you join me..." he mumbles, making a face. yunho yawns, stretching a little before slumping back against the sofa. you couldn't help but melt at his actions, this side of him unknown to his friends.

"you were sleeping so soundly, body all sprawled out on the bed."

you even had a picture to prove that: you had to stifle your laughter when you found him sleeping in a less than ideal position. he awoken to your rustling as you were putting away your things, mumbling a "you're back..." and then falling back to sleep right after.

"i decided to let you have that proper rest and chose to lie down in the living room instead."

you propped up your legs closer to your body so that he could sit properly, but he chose to push your legs apart before slumping into your embrace, his body snuggled between your thighs and arms slung haphazardly around your middle.

"whatever. i want you to hold me now." yunho presses his face into your chest—much like a cat would—and you lightly chuckled at his actions.

"yes, yes. whatever you say."

switching your phone off, you soothed his already sleeping self, hands roaming up and down his back, just the way he likes it.

"good night again, yunho."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[newworldwritings]

Cyberpunk's bartender

》 Pairing: bartender!Wooyoung x gn!erader

》 Genre: Fluff

》 Wordcount: 1,800 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Wooyoung chuckled to himself as he saw a group of girls walk inside the club and saw one of them stand out from the others. She looked sheepish and definitely did not want to be outdoors right now. He understood far too well that sometimes, people just don’t like being forced to go out. As soon as Mingi, the bouncer that let these women in, gave a signal and pointed to the incredibly shy girl that flinched at everything, Wooyoung nodded and gave a thumbs-up in return. After all, he was also used to helping introverts like that woman escape. 

“I NEED THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES FOR BOOTH 1024!”

Wooyoung heard Jongho’s voice resonate within the dingy strip club and he nodded. He set to work on making the mixed drinks, pouring each amount of tequila perfect into the metal shaker before adding ice and closing it. He started shaking it with one hand while the other gathered three glasses so he could pour the drink in. Once he set the shaker down, he grabbed a strainer and placed it over the opened shaker before pouring each drink into the frosted glasses. He grabbed the tiny umbrellas and stabbed three maraschino cherries before topping the drinks with it. 

“THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES!”

Wooyoung’s voice was incredibly loud, even through the booming techno music the strippers were dancing to. Jongho hurried over to the bar and grabbed the drinks carefully before thanking him and walking over towards the booth. Wooyoung sighed and quickly washed his tools so he could prepare for making the next few drinks. He hated using dirty tools when making drinks. He believed that the remnants from the last cocktail mixed in with the new cocktail would make it taste bad. It’s a silly ideology, but to him, it made the most sense. He was currently watching the crowd and observing the different dynamics they got going on here. Soon, he felt a presence in front of him and he smiled brightly. 

“Well well. If it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You giggled and playfully rolled your eyes at his compliment. Wooyoung had first met you when you came in with so much stress. You weren’t one to drown your sorrows in alcohol, but you had just about enough. As an event coordinator and a travel planner, it seemed like you could never catch a break. The only upside to your job is that you were self-employed so you were your own boss and you could take as many days off as you want. After the occasions you helped out with, you were definitely taking a month long vacation. 

“Do you say that to all your customers?”

“Of course not, doll. They aren’t as put-together as you.”

“Ok ok fine. Enough with your pretty words. You know the drill.”

“So the usual then?”

You nodded and Wooyoung set straight to work. He decided to put on a little show for you since you expressed that you felt fascinated with the way Wooyoung makes drinks. From a simple whiskey on the rocks to the most complicated cocktail (i.e. the cosmopolitan), you believed he had the magic touch. After Wooyoung set your drink down, you thanked him and took a sip. You were surprised. Your usual, which was green apple Crown Royal mixed with Sprite, tasted stronger than usual. Not that you didn’t mind of course. You had a strong tolerance. However, this normally only had one shot of Crown mixed into it. 

“Woo. Did you put two shots in this?”

“I did. And before you ask, I didn’t fuck up. I added another shot intentionally. After everything you’ve told me, I figured you’d need to relax a bit more.”

Your heart fluttered at Wooyoung’s thoughtfulness and you thanked him by raising your glass to him. He poured his own shot and clinked his glass with you before knocking it back. He set his empty shot glass in the sink and handed you the menu. 

“Order what you want. It’s on the house.”

“Woo, no -”

Wooyoung reached over and put his finger on your lips to shush you. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes and shoved his finger off, but for some reason, you felt a bit flustered under his touch today. It definitely wasn’t the alcohol speaking. You weren’t even tipsy yet! Perhaps it’s just the environment you’re in. After all, you were technically in a place where women’s hormones go crazy. Once upon a time, you used to be like them. Now? You had your priorities straight. 

“It’s fine, doll. I mean it.”

“Fine… I’ll take the takoyaki and katsu pork bites please.”

“Want to throw some potstickers in there as well?”

“Sure.”

Wooyoung nodded and took your order to the kitchen while you sipped on your drink. While you were waiting for him, you noticed a girl trying to shrink back into the booth she was at with, who you assumed were, her coworkers. You chuckled as she tried her best to be a wallflower in a place such as Cyberpunk. You also felt bad for her as well. Mingi told you briefly about this woman and you honestly wanted to beat those women’s asses. Sadly, it’s none of your business. The most you can do is wish that she smoothly escapes them as soon as possible. 

“One order of takoyaki, katsu pork bites, and potstickers for my favorite customer.”

Wooyoung’s voice snapped you out of your observant haze quickly and you turned around to see the food placed in front of you. You were salivating. After weeks of eating nothing but healthy food in your own home, you considered today a cheat day. You grabbed your chopsticks and picked up a katsu pork bite before eating it. Apparently, this was a new thing on the menu. 

And you hoped they’d keep it. 

“Woo… this is fucking bomb! Tell the chef to keep this on the menu!”

Wooyoung chuckled smoothly and found your love for bar food so adorable. He made a mental note to do that before he left. As he watched you eat, he couldn’t help but stare at you. The way your hair fell in front of your face (he wanted to reach out and tuck it behind your ear), the way your cheeks puffed up as you kept eating (there were a few crumbs stuck to the corners of your mouth and he wanted to wipe them away with his thumb badly), and the way you drank your strong drink with such poise? Yeah this man is in love. 

“I NEED A ROUND OF SHOTS PLUS THE STRONGEST DRINK YOU HAVE FOR BOOTH 1117!”

Jongho’s voice broke Wooyoung out of his lovestruck stupor and he sighed deeply. He knew which booth Jongho was referring to. Setting to work, he first made the cocktail since it was a longer process. Once the drink was made, he took out a lot of shot glasses and placed them on the tray. 

“WHAT ALCOHOL DO THEY WANT?!”

Jongho asked the customer real quick on what shots they wanted to order before yelling back. 

“SOJU!”

Wooyoung nodded and took out some soju bottles before pouring the spirit into each frosted shot glass. Once he was done, he double checked to make sure everything was in order before shouting out to Jongho.

“A ROUND OF SOJU SHOTS AND A STRONG COCKTAIL!”

Jongho walked over and grabbed the tray once more before placing a dollar bill in front of Wooyoung. It was a tip. A generous one at that. Wooyoung pocketed the money before turning back to you. His eyes widened at the empty plate and they trailed up to you, still sipping on your drink as if you didn’t order so much bar food. 

“Well I’ll be damned. I’m calling you Kirby with the way you practically inhaled that food.”

“That would require me having a black hole for a stomach though, and we both know I don’t have that.”

Wooyoung laughed at your sassy reply and nodded before pouring himself another shot.

“To our aspirations of becoming Kirby!”

You clinked glasses and knocked back your drinks before setting the glass down. Wooyoung took your empty glass and looked back up at you. 

“You want a refill?”

“Nah. It’s ok. I think I’m done for today.” 

“Perfect!”

You were confused as to why Wooyoung said that and said it in that tone. It wasn’t until your eyes landed on an empty shot glass that you realized what he was doing. You immediately shook your head. 

“I have work tomorrow -”

“What time do your clients come in?”

“Uh… around noon or 2 PM.”

“Great! Now come on. Knock one back with me.”

“Wooyoung, I don’t know -”

“Did you drive here? If you did, I’ll take your decline.”

“Well no. My car’s in the shop so I took an uber here…”

“All the more reason to take a shot! Come on. It’s Friday!” 

“Woo…”

Wooyoung took your hand in his and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. You felt more flustered than before and you couldn’t help but find him so handsome underneath the dim lighting of the bar. His black hair was tied back into a small ponytail while two strands hung in front of his face. His jawline was sharp, his lips looked tempting and kissable, and his eyes were shining with mischief and amusement. There was also a sincerity behind them too. 

“You work so hard, Y/N. You deserve this. I’ll take care of you. Like always.”

You didn’t say anything, prompting Wooyoung to continue. 

“I’m not going to lie. I mainly just wanted to flirt with you and get a rise out of you. I’m fine with being friends. However, if you’re on the same wavelength as me, then I will tell you right now. I fell in love with you. I’m so in love with the way you talk, move, and hold yourself. I figured someone like me could never be with someone like you. But I’m willing to shoot my shot and give us a try. The question now is… are you?”

You were taken aback by Wooyong’s confession. The bartender that you like also likes you back. You felt your heart hurt when he said that he doesn’t deserve someone like you when in reality, it’s sort of the vice verse. However, seeing as he’s willing to give it a try, you thought “Fuck it.” in the back of your mind. You were independent, made good money, and had a stable life overall. Why not share that life with someone? You intertwined your fingers with his and a small smile appeared on your face. 

“Yeah… I’m willing to give us a try.”

With that, you both took your shots, and the rest is now history. 

[newworldwritings]

Omega (3)

Summary: Your future meets your past.

pairings: omega!seonghwa x omega!reader, referral to omega!wooyoung x reader, slight wooyoung x alpha!san

c/w: angst, smut, fluff

a/n: I was provoked (I also got lazy at the end, I'm sorry)

w/c: 6.5k

net: @mirohs-aurora-society

Since you'd left his apartment that day, you've been Wooyoung's Roman Empire. There wasn't a day that he didn't think of you at least once, even now that he'd been with San for a good 5 years now. You were once his closest friend, and he'd had the closest form of intimacy with you. He did love you, he will say it until the end of his days, even if no one will believe him. He was just scared. And he loved San, too.

So why would he give up one thing that he loved that was societally accepted in favor of another that was not?

He'd never let anyone tell him that it was simply because you were not worth it. He'd never let anyone say that, and he'd never let you think that.

Even if it was true.

Because what else could it have been? He loved you, but he did not love you more than he cared for his reputation. Sacrificing his probably greatest love for a comfortable love.

He didn't have the heart to say that he regretted it since San was still his partner, but there would always be a tiny part of him that looked at San and wondered what would have happened if he had picked you. If he had not ruined everything, even your friendship.

"You are spiraling," the voice of his partner said as a finger poked between his crunched eyebrows. Wooyoung sighed, opening his eyes and looking at San from where he laid on the bed.

San put his hands on his hips and tilted his head in question, "Is there anything that would make you feel better? We're supposed to be on vacation."

Wooyoung let guilt permeate his veins. San was right here, and they were on a couple's vacation to the city. Wooyoung had told San that he wanted to explore and take pictures, and San surprised him with a fully planned week in an Airbnb apartment.

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung said, smiling wearily at his partner, "Maybe I should do some grocery shopping to clear my head."

San smiled, "Okay. Do you know what you want to make for dinner tonight?"

Wooyoung distracted himself, if at least for a moment, by reciting the groceries he needed to make dinner out loud to San while San wrote it down. Wooyoung could have typed it into his phone, but this was more fun.

"Do you want me to come with you?" San asked, and Wooyoung waved him off, "No, I'm okay. I just need to clear my head. I'll be back."

The grocery store wasn't far, just about a block and a half away. The air was cool, but not enough that he could see his breath. He actually would have preferred to celebrate the holidays in the city as opposed to this spontaneous weekend, but he was still excited for the rest of the week.

When he stepped into the grocery store, it wasn't that crowded, to his surprise. A worker greeted him, and he returned it, making his way through the aisles. The sound of a little girl laughing, her footsteps indicating that she was running made Wooyoung smile.

Daughters.

He bit his lip again. He wanted kids with San, sure, but not at the risk of them being daughters. Daughters were for you. He couldn't think of daughters without imagining their shining eyes and bright smiles being identical to yours.

Kids wouldn't happen any time soon.

He had been especially melancholy these days. He didn't know why. Something in him told him to be alert, his hairs standing on end for no apparent reason. It had gotten especially bad since coming to the city.

He let out a sigh, going into the next aisle to grab ramen when he suddenly froze. There was a voice. It kind of sounded like yours. He was surely mistaken, though. He'd been thinking about you so much that he was now hallucinating, he would have concluded...

...if you had not been standing right there.

You had a shopping basket hanging in the crook of your elbow as you looked at the ramen packages. He noticed the ones already in the basket, your favorite brand. His heart clenched to know that it hadn't changed.

But you. You had changed.

You were glowing. Happy. It was radiating off of you in waves like it never had before, not even while you were with him. What had changed in your life for you it to manifest physically on you like this?

He didn't realize he was staring until he heard your gasp. He refocused his eyes to find that you were looking right back at him, frozen just as he was.

You don't know how long you stood there, looking at the ghost from your past look at you like he saw a ghost. You didn't know whether to pretend you didn't know him, although that would be hard considering the eye contact you were maintaining right now, or say hello. He was a part of your past, a dark part. Even though you were over it, moved on from him for a long time now, the ugliest memories in your mind still came forth, making old wrong feelings resurface.

Wooyoung would never let you think it, but you did anyway. I wasn't worth it to you.

"Y/n!" he suddenly said, shaking and breathy, a pacifying smile on his face. You didn't move as he approached you tentatively. He wanted to be civil. He didn't deserve to be anything more or less than that.

You still didn't say anything, but he didn't let how much that bothered him show on his face, "It's- it's been a long time... how are you...?"

Your irises shook as you figured out what you wanted to say to him. You'd thought about it for so long, countless nights, before and after Seonghwa, thinking about everything you'd spit at him about how he had betrayed you, all the things you were too emotional to say that final night.

But you found that you were just as emotional now, unable to string the words you wanted to say together.

Wooyoung tried hard not to frown as he said again, "You look happy."

That prompted you to say something, giving way for a smile on your face that took Wooyoung's breath away. "I am...so happy." You would never pass up the opportunity to tell someone how grateful you were for the life you lived.

"That's good," Wooyoung said, his own happy facade wavering. "Um, your favorite ramen is the same."

"Oh. Yeah," you mumbled, looking down at your basket. This interaction was awkward. Once upon a time you never could have imagined this kind of tension with Wooyoung. It was awful and you both hated it, but while Wooyoung wanted the atmosphere to improve, you wanted to avoid it entirely.

You could see that he was trying to reconcile, but you didn't want to reconcile. He could see that, too, but it didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"I- Can I just tell you how sorry I am-?" "We're in the middle of a grocery store," you cut him off, "I hardly think this is the place where we should put aside our differences and become friends again, not that that was an option in the first place."

Wooyoung's heart sank, "Y/n-" You cut him off with a sigh, rubbing your temples with your middle fingers making Wooyoung feel pathetic. "I don't want to be angry or rude," you said softly, "But I don't think I can be anything else to you."

"I know," he was quick to say, "And you have every right to." "I don't need you to tell me that."

You were short with him, and that made him want to cry.

"Y/n, please," he whispered, "I love you."

"You don't get to say that to me," you chuckled helplessly in disbelief at what you were hearing.

"I never stopped," he tried to convince you, his hand grabbing the fabric of his shirt right above where his heart was beating so hard he thought he had some kind of arrhythmia, "I was wrong, I know, but you have to see where I was coming from back then."

"I do see that," You said, lips pressed into a thin like as you looked at him with no remorse, "But ruining my entire life didn't have to be a part of that."

"I was scared," He whispered ashamed, "You know I was scared."

"You didn't ever tell me that," you replied bluntly, "You were the one who played around too much and got us caught, yet I was the one blamed. Blamed for something that you used to reassure me over and over again wasn't wrong."

Sparks flew in a dangerous way, akin to lightning, between the two of you: two heartbroken people broken by the same person. Wooyoung broke your heart and his along with it. This was all his fault and he knew it.

"You know Yuna ended up with one of the other dance teachers in the school," he said, trying to make conversation, "An omega. They're getting married in-"

"Why did you think that would make me feel better?" You asked him, genuinely baffled at his gall. He gulped, "Our town is progressing... you... I'm sure if you came back you'd be welcomed with open arms."

You shook your head, a helpless smile coming to your face, "I'm happy here."

"Come on, y/n, please-" "What happened to San?" you suddenly asked. He stilled and let guilt eat him again. You got your answer, disappointment etched across your face.

"He knows that I love you," Wooyoung tried to defend, though San didn't know that he still loved you and thought about you and wished he was with you-

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, exasperated. "Forgive me!" he said desperately, "Forgive me and come back."

"Wooyoung," You scoffed, your chest welling up with emotion, "You- I was a dirty little secret to you. You never loved me proudly while I would have- I would have fought everyone who spoke ill of you just for loving me, but you ruined not only what we had, but my life. I lost my job, my parents..."

Wooyoung did realize the gravity of his accusations against you after you had moved out, whispers of you being wrong continuing even after you left. At the time, even though he felt guilty, it still relieved him to know that he avoided being talked about like that, only to realize that it wasn't the fact that you liked omegas that they thought was wrong. It was the fact that they thought you'd forced yourself on him. When in reality, you could consider it the other way around.

He'd went to your parents to try and clear your name, at least to them. They told him that he didn't have to defend his abuser, and he yelled at them that you were nothing of the sort. They only looked at him with pity. "Whatever the case may be, it was embarrassing for us to tell people she couldn't keep an alpha, and it was worse when everyone found out that she liked omegas. Really, it's better for everyone that she's gone. Even her."

Your father's words had been so callous, Wooyoung wondered what he must have said to you, when this was supposed to be considered him being polite. His heart continually ached for you.

But he persisted, even though he didn't deserve to. "I was wrong!" he pleaded, "But I- I can be better now-"

"I don't want that," you whispered, eyes closed as you attempted to control the wobble of your lower lip, "I don't need you to be better now, not when it's easier for you. I needed you when times were hard. I needed you to be proud to love me and stand in the face of everyone who tried to hurt us. But you hurt me instead. Instead of being proud to love me, you were ashamed of me. You lied when you told me you didn't think it was wrong, and you proved that when you threw it away for what was easy."

Wooyoung finally let the tears spill, and you let one out, too, the emotion in your voice raising into your throat, "I needed you to love me proudly. Now, I have-"

The giggles Wooyoung had heard earlier were suddenly right next to him as a toddler pushed passed him, barreling into your legs.

"Hwayoung!" a man with beautiful hair and a sharp nose, scolded the child, "You can't do that!" He grabbed her by the sides of her jacket, pulling her toward him as she protested, and Wooyoung smiled at the man politely. "Beautiful kid."

"Thank you." But the man didn't say it.

Wooyoung's head turned to you as his neck was a rusted door hinge. You said it. It took him a minute to process why you said thank you, before he looked at the man, again: Seonghwa, who was now looking between you and him, confused.

Wooyoung took the man in. He was much taller, his features sharp, but yet delicate, his hands cradling his child against his chest. Beautiful. He was beautiful, and he was yours.

And he was an omega.

And this was your-

"This is my daughter," you said, fondness dripping from your voice despite the situation as you addressed your child that had clearly become the new elephant in the room, "Hwayoung."

Daughter. Daughters. Your daughter.

Daughters. Daughters. Daughters.

It rang in his head like an incurable tinnitus as he eyes were blown wide, looking at your beautiful little girl again.

You did have daughters. Just not with me.

He took a deep breath, and you realized the extend of Wooyoung's shock at this new revelation.

You put a hand on Seonghwa's arm, "Can you do the rest of the shopping? I'll be right with you."

"Of course," he said quietly, looking warily at Wooyoung who was still in a concerning state of shock, "Did you get the ramen?"

"I got mine, and yours-" The one she had been holding in her hand had been for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn't notice that it had been different from what was already in the basket. Wooyoung's heart clenched further.

"I didn't get Hwayoung's, though. I'll find it and bring it to you when I'm done here."

When you're done here. Wooyoung was now a temporary fixture in your life. Worse than temporary. Fleeting. Ephemeral. Unimportant.

"Okay," he said, kissing your cheek: an unintentional but clear sign that you were his that did not fly over you or Wooyoung's heads. It made you swoon, and it made Wooyoung want to throw up.

"I confided in you... I told you that no one had ever felt right before you-" "Well was that because it was me or was it just because I'm an omega?" "It's because of you and you are an omega!" You exclaimed, "We- we talked about daughters, Wooyoung-"

"Y/n- that was never going to happen," he said, making your stomach drop, "We're omegas, I'm- you're not- you're not an alpha. I love you, but you're not an alpha. It was never gonna-"

"I was never serious to you."

He was the one who considered you almost as a fling. Even though your hearts were intertwined as friends for longer than he could remember knowing how to walk, somehow he thought he would ever be able to let you go.

But the reality was that he was the one that was only a momentary stepping stone for you.

You had moved on, but Wooyoung could never forget you.

"Okay," Seonghwa said, eyeing Wooyoung one more time, "Don't stress out too much, okay? It's not good for the baby."

Another arrow to his heart. Was he finally dead now? Could he finally be at peace?

Of course not, and he didn't deserve to be.

Wooyoung's breath left his throat shakily and you patted Seonghwa's arm for him to leave. "Bye, uncle!" your extraverted daughter said sweetly with a wave behind Seonghwa's back, and Wooyoung could only wave back with the saddest smile you'd ever seen on him.

"Daughters," he whispered, "You had daughters... with someone else."

You looked at him pained. You weren't pained by him, but for him. It seemed that he really had been affected by your "break up" if you could even call it that, than you had assumed, but you were still angry.

"I thought we-, we talked about daughters." You let out the coldest laugh you'd ever produced. "That didn't stop you all that time ago," you spat, blood rushing to your head.

"Y/n-" "I wanted daughters with someone who'd love me proudly," you said, not caring much for your volume anymore, allowing Seonghwa to hear your conversation from wherever he was in the store. His heart broke for you. So this is Wooyoung.

"You fooled me into thinking that you would, but I wasn't fooled again," you cried, "Now I have that. I have another omega who loves me without fear."

"It can't have been that easy," Wooyoung tried to say, but you shook your head. "It's never easy, even if it's societally acceptable," you said, "But he went against everything he thought was normal, everything he was used to, just to be with me. I was more important to him."

Wooyoung shoved his teeth into his bottom lip, looking down.

"I'm sorry that you still love me," you choked, "But it was never fair to me that you only loved me behind closed doors. I- Once upon a time, I thought I was just born wrong, but it turned out that I just deserved better."

Wooyoung let out quiet sobs.

"And I found it." And it's not you, Wooyoung.

Wooyoung wiped his tears, nodding in reluctant acceptance. "Right," he sniffed.

He looked at you one more time, taking in your beautiful form. He took in all the parts of you that he didn't get to watch form. He imagined that under your shirt, there were stretch marks that was proof of your motherhood. He saw the happy weight you'd gained in your face. He saw the ever so small curve of your tummy, indicating the second child he knew you hoped was another daughter, but would be just as happy with a son.

"Congratulations," he whispered. "Thank you," you said in the same tone.

He gave one last assured nod and turned away. You watched his back until he turned into the other aisle. You didn't know that he had immediately put his shopping basket down and walked straight out of the store, struggling to contain himself until he got outside, sobs choking as he mourned.

This was the life he had wanted with you.

He loved San, but this was his dream, and he let it go. Achieving dreams were never easy. He shouldn't have expected himself to be satisfied taking the easy way out.

San could smell the reason why Wooyoung had come back so soon, breaking down further than he seemed to already have in his arms. You.

San never thought ill of you. He felt almost worse than Wooyoung knowing that he'd hurt you so terribly. You were a good partner to him once upon a time, he just knew that he wasn't what you wanted, even though you desperately tried to make him feel like you did. He appreciated that, but he knew you were putting yourself into a box that you didn't fit into. He didn't want you to hurt yourself anymore.

He didn't realize that it'd result in the box you'd ended up fitting in crushing you. And it seemed that now it was crushing Wooyoung.

"I messed up," Wooyoung blubbered, "She's in love, and she has a daughter, and she's pregnant, and she's happy."

San rubbed Wooyoung's hair comfortingly. "I already know you asked for her to take you back."

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung whimpered. San sighed, "We'll get through it, but this... we wished her the best, didn't we?"

Wooyoung nodded, heaving his breaths, "It still hurts, though. To see what I lost."

San put his hand on Wooyoung's cheek, smiling reassuringly, "Lost one thing to experience another. There's no time to regret me. Now we have all the time in the world to make a life that makes you just as happy."

I don't think I'll ever get to that point. But he would. Life moves on, and even if it hurt, he would move on, too.

Just like you did.

Seonghwa looked at you, worried as you came back to him with a pack of chicken ramen with a low spice level for your daughter, a blank look on your face.

"Are you okay, my love?" he asked, putting Hwayoung down who immediately gravitated towards her mother. You picked her up and put the ramen in Seonghwa's basket. You didn't answer.

"Amma~," Hwayoung cooed, "That uncle handsome." There were stars in her little eyes, and you couldn't help but chuckle, wiping the hair out of her face to admire her eyes that looked just like her father's.

"He is handsome, huh?" you entertained with a chuckle. "Was he your friend?" "He was," You murmured, "But not anymore."

"Aw," she said with a pout, but didn't complain, squirming out of your hold.

"If Amma puts you down and you start running again, I'm putting the sweets you wanted back on the shelf," Seonghwa threatened and she gasped, looking at you to defend her.

Your mood instantly lifted, looking at Seonghwa with faux rage as you pressed your cheek against your baby's.

"How dare you!? My princess gets all the sweets she wants!"

Seonghwa smirked at the playfulness that you both knew would get you in trouble later. You weren't supposed to disagree with Seonghwa in front of Hwayoung, but you couldn't help but tease him sometimes.

"Well, if she doesn't run away, then she does! Simple," Seonghwa said, raising a brow at his daughter.

She pouted, crossing her arms. You put her down and found that she was pouting too hard to think about running again making both you and Seonghwa chuckle. Your husband looked at you again, "I asked you a question."

"I don't know," you replied instantly. Am I feeling okay? Was that cathartic or do I regret not forgiving him?

You didn't have the patience to think about it while you were supposed to be getting groceries. "Can I give you a better answer after I go home, shower, lay in bed and see if I cry?"

Seonghwa knew the answer already, drawing you in for a hug and letting you dig your nose into the fabric of his coat. He instinctually grabbed the hood of Hwayoung's own coat as he could sense her about to dart away while he wasn't looking.

"I'm sorry," your voice was muffled. You pulled away to look at him as your arms snaked around his waist, "Look at me getting upset over an ex."

"He was your best friend," Seonghwa said, putting the basket down to cup your cheek, "Your feelings for him are much more complicated than just your ex."

"I know," you murmured, closing your eyes, "But my feelings for you transcend all of that, so I shouldn't still be feeling hurt by him. My feelings shouldn't be complicated anymore. I hate him."

"You don't hate him," Seonghwa rationalized, "You hate what he did."

"And I can't forgive him," You said tightly and he nodded, "And that's okay. You told him what you needed to. The best revenge is a life well lived."

"And I got the perfect life that I wanted," You whispered, making Seonghwa smile, his expression filled with his love for you.

"Exactly," he returned, giving you a light kiss on the lips.

He pulled away, looking around to see if anyone had noticed your PDA, but it seemed as though you two had gone undetected.

You grinned, "Are you embarrassed by me?" It was a tease, but his eyes widened as you playfully accused him of the very thing you had angrily accused Wooyoung of only moments prior.

"Of course not-!" "I know," you reassured, rubbing your nose against his, "I know you don't like PDA, but I love when people see us."

You pressed your lips to his earlobe as you whispered, "When they see me love on you."

"Okay, that's enough," he said with a satisfied grin, "At this rate we're going to make you double pregnant in the dairy section."

You giggled, looking back down at Hwayoung. "You can let her go, if you grab the rest of the stuff, I'll keep an eye on her."

"Do you think we can get Yeosang or Jongho to watch the baby tonight?" Seonghwa asked, eyes glinting with mischief, but you shook your head, "Jongho's studying for his final exams, and Yeosang has a date. Hongjoong?"

"Hongjoong would fall asleep with the stove on," Seonghwa scoffed, "I am never leaving our baby in a room alone with him. Supervised only."

You laughed, pushing him back slightly, "Then whatever you're planning in your head to distract me isn't exactly going to work then is it?"

"Maybe," he sighed, pouting the same way his daughter was. You kissed his lips one more time before slapping his hand away from Hwayoung's hood, releasing your little puppy back into the store. Seonghwa sighed, watching after her as you reassured him you had her under control, and you took off after her.

She had just gone back to the ramen section, staring in awe at all the colorful packages.

"I want that," she said, pointing at a red packet of 2x Spicy Buldak Ramen. You chuckled, "That's too spicy. I got your favorite one, Hwayoungie, when you're big and like spicy food then I'll get you that one."

Hwayoung pouted again and looked at you, "But you'll but two eggs on my ramen today, right?"

You smiled down at her, ruffling her hair that was done up in two pigtails, curtesy of your darling husband, "Of course~ but appa might get jealous."

"You have to give him three eggs!" You chuckled, holding out two of your fingers to hold as you walked with her through some other aisles, pointing at colorful foods and objects to distract her from how long she had to wait for Seonghwa to finish grabbing what was left on the shopping list.

Turns out it wasn't long; Seonghwa had gotten everything and come to find you to leave before you knew it.

You took some bags from him to take to the car while Hwayoung motioned for him to lean down so she could tell him a secret. "I told amma to give you three eggs!"

Seonghwa gasped, eyes shining, "Really!? Thank you, Hwayoungie!"

She giggled.

At the house, Seonghwa took the liberty of putting all the groceries away while you off Hwayoung's coat and left her to her toys so you could get started on the Ramen.

Seonghwa deliberately brushed past you every time he passed by in order to tease you even though you both knew he had enough room.

When he was done with the groceries, he went to the bedroom to chance, coming back to take over the ramen so that you could do the same.

"It doesn't need that much attention, my love, it's just ramen," he chuckled, kissing your cheek and patting your butt as he dismissed you.

You passed by your calendar on the way to the bedroom when something caught your eye. You gaped. Time had escaped you, and you were surprised Seonghwa hadn't seen it.

"Seonghwa!" you called. "Yeah?" "I think we forgot something!"

Seonghwa turned off the stove before he even got to fry any eggs to come to you, paying attention to whatever it was you were looking at. He, too, gaped.

"How did I forget," he murmured, blush coating his cheeks. "I guess we're going to have to ask someone to watch her for the next week," you chuckled, your hand instinctually reaching underneath your husband's loose pajama shirt to touch the skin of his abdomen, making him shiver in delight.

You smiled at him, "You didn't feel the pre-heat?" Seonghwa chewed on his bottom lip, a little nervous, "No..."

That meant this heat was going to come hard. "I cant even make the baby, why do I have go through heat," Seonghwa whined and you laughed, going back into the bedroom, "At least we don't have to worry about two simultaneous heat cycles until this one is born." You patted your swollen tummy making Seonghwa warm up with love.

"Yeah because not working two weeks out of the month because we have to take care of each other isn't exactly the most practical thing," he sighed, "I wish we'd just sync up already. Like that last time."

Your heats didn't often coincide, but when they did... You shivered at the memory.

"After dinner, I'll call amma," you said, referring to Seonghwa's mother who had become like your own after welcoming you as her son's omega, despite what she knew was normal.

Seonghwa's omega. And Seonghwa was your omega.

It always made you giddy to think about.

"Call her now," Seonghwa mumbled, attaching himself to your back to suck on your neck. He wasn't in heat yet, but all that talk of it had him a little antsy.

He helped you change into house clothes before going back to the kitchen. "Say goodbye to Hwayoung," you whispered, "Because you won't be seeing her until you get me double pregnant in the dairy section."

"Stop it," he laughed, before doing as told. He played with your daughter until the ramen was ready. You'd called your mother-in-law while you fried the eggs, and she agreed to come pick up Hwayoung after she fell asleep.

Hwayoung hated leaving her father, so even sleepovers with her halmoni were like covert transport operations.

You put the ramen bowls with their respectful fried eggs and toppings your lover and daughter's liking before putting on a movie. Hwayoung's eyes were glued to the screen, her mouth being prompted to open every so often as Seonghwa fed her some noodles, cooing at her cute little slurping sounds.

She'd eaten fast, not having finished the ramen, of course, as she was only three years old and the portion was too big for her. You grinned at Seonghwa as he, ever the eater, finished it for her.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes while Seonghwa gathered Hwayoung into his arms. "Go to bed. I'll situate her and wait for my mother then join you."

You nodded, getting up with him, kissing him on the cheek as you grabbed the bowls to just put them in the sink before heading to bed.

You wished you could say bye to Hwayoung, but you couldn't give her any indication that she'd be spending the night anywhere other than home if you were going to get her to go to grandma's house, so you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, you felt your husband's bare chest, sweaty against the thin fabric on the back of your shirt.

"Already," you chuckled, turning around to look at him. Your hands tingled as you put your hands on his warm chest. He was still sleeping, which was good. You didn't have to take care of him until his body started writhing with the desperation to release.

But did you want to wait until that point? What's the harm in relieving him a little early?

You looked at his peaceful face. Well, I guess the harm would be in how little sleep he's going to get in the next few days. Might as well let him rest now.

You sighed, impatient. You could try getting yourself off, but you weren't in heat, so you weren't insatiable. You had to save your libido for him. You forced yourself to go back to sleep.

You were happily surprised when you regained consciousness.

The familiar feeling of a gentle touch between your thighs had you sighing out in satisfaction, even before being touched properly.

Normally, Seonghwa would speak to you gently, "You woke up? My sweet baby?" But right now, he had a one-track mind.

It wasn't his hands that glided along your skin beneath the blanket, it was his nose.

You felt him breath you in through your panties that you'd worn knowing that he'd wake you up like this.

You heard him groan at the smell of you from beneath the sheets and laughed, pushing them down a little to see his tuft of hair peaking out.

You small small sounds as he indulged himself in your pussy, trying hard not to get worked up too quickly. This was for him. You'd last for as long as he needed it. You saw his head move with the action of him licking you through the fabric and closed your eyes in content.

He discarded your underwear pretty quickly, his tongue making direct contact with your clit as you clenched around nothing.

Your arms raised against the pillows on the bed, reveling in the feeling of your husband tasting you for his own pleasure.

He wasn't satiated until your body reached its peak from the consistent movement of his mouth on your slit, your body shaking gently from the orgasm that had built up over who knows how long at that point.

He breathed, satisfied as he kissed up your stomach, tasting the light sheen of sweat that had resulted in your body warming up with desire. He pushed your shirt up until your breasts were released, moving up to admire them for a moment.

Yes, he was in a sex-needy haze, but he was also needy to breed you. His brain only told him he wanted more offspring, and the sight of your tits which would soon be filled with milk to feed them riled him up to no end.

He licked one of your nipples before taking it in his mouth. He would take his time before his body forced him to fuck the life out of you. Even though you were trying to be calm, he wanted you to enjoy it too. To him, his heat wasn't just for him, but for you as well. A period of time where you'd get to enjoy him insatiably touching you, the same way you were with him during your heat.

You wrapping your hands around his head loosely as he gave attention to your chest.

"I can't wait for them to be filled again," he murmured against your skin, "For them... but for me, too."

You smiled down at him, your body heating up further. An omega's favorite activity. Well, at least yours. Feeling your omega feed from you the milk your body made for his children was a visceral experience. You couldn't explain it. The vulnerability that came with both feeding and being fed. It was a uniquely omega relationship experience.

After the first time he'd experienced it, Seonghwa realized why alphas were just not an option for you. He couldn't imagine anything he loved more than this, than you.

He leaned up to kiss you softly, pouring every beautiful feeling that you'd created in him into your lips.

You moaned, feeling his covered hips instinctually roll against you at a slow pace.

"Are you sure you're in heat?" you mumbled against his lips, teasing.

It was obvious he was. He was sweating head to toe and barely speaking. He was usually so vocal with you, telling you how much he loved you, needed you, etc.

Seonghwa didn't answer, kissing down from your lips to your neck. Your back arched wantonly as his presence consumed you. This was love.

"Stop teasing," you breathed, "Please." He didn't object, pulling down his sleep pants just enough to release his member that hit your pelvis as he released it making you bite your lip.

You sucked a deep breath in when he entered you. He couldn't hold himself up, chest collapsing on top of yours as your arms tightened around his head and his wrapped around arching waist.

Once he was in you, he lost himself, rutting into you desperately, mercilessly. Your bodies were pressed so close together that you couldn't tell where he started and you ended. Your breathy whines spurred him on, his own whimpers continuously leaving him.

"Come Seonghwa, my love. My perfect omega," you breathed urgently. "I love you," he grunted out tightly, "Pretty, pretty girl."

His words were a little jumbled, indicating his mental state. He needed to come, so you rolled your hips as much as you could manage along with him.

He propped himself up just slightly in order to be able to make a little more movement that greatly helped as you could sense him about to release.

You pulled him up to your face for a kiss and he moaned, that would have sounded painful if not for the context, right into your mouth as you licked into his.

His lips came to a slow stop, but he didn't pull out, collapsing once again as he breathed heavily.

You giggled, running your hands through his hair, "This isn't how your heat starts."

"It hasn't started fully yet, it's still pre-heat," he murmured, kissing your chest where he laid, "It was still for me, but... I just felt like being gentle with you."

You pulled his face up so that his chin was leaning on your chest to look at you as you gave him a questioning gaze, "Why? There's no need for that during your heat. It's all about you."

"Just 'cause of yesterday," he said, a little shy.

You wracked your brain for what happened yesterday before the lightbulb went off in your head. "Oh. Wooyoung."

"Yeah," he murmured, moving up to lay his head to look at you from the side, half his body still covering yours. You rubbed his side as you looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, a smile on your face.

"Huh... I totally forgot about it."

You looked at Seonghwa with a glittering smile on your face prompting Seonghwa to return it. You were so happy. Wooyoung was the last thing on your mind, and nothing he said could sway you. He had no power over you anymore.

"You seemed so distraught yesterday, though," he said. I shook my head, "I think it was just because it was so sudden, but I haven't been thinking about...anything he said. Not from before, not yesterday... I haven't even been fantasizing about putting him in his place... since, you know, I already did it yesterday."

Seonghwa breathed in relief, happy that this part of you that he knew affected you so horribly had come to a closure. "Well," he joked, "You can fantasize about and act on putting me in my place any day."

You chuckled at him, pressing one more kiss to his lips.

You wished the best for Wooyoung. And if he had really wished the best for you, then you would thank him and hope that your well wishes would do the same for him.

--------

Taglist: @ad0rechuu @spooo00oky @jaerisdiction @soso59love-blog @potatos-on-clouds @intartaruginha @hwasa28 @stacey-stonem @skersey33 @altxrr-ego @sunnyhokyu @dawn-iscozy @newworldwritings @deltamoon666

[newworldwritings]

Boyfriend (j.yh x reader)

<jeong yunho x fem!reader>

summary: You can't believe you're dating Yunho. Others can't either.

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please use protection!), fluff, use of pet-names a/n: let me know literally anything about this :) word count ~3.6k

You were dating Jeong Yunho; you really were. 

You went on dates, held hands, kissed, and said the cheesiest, most sweetest, tooth-rotting things to each other. All the time. And yet, none of the boys had caught up. By some mysterious miracle or rather an ominous curse, guys and the staff have considered you two to be just really good friends. You could've screamed love proclamations at each other from mountaintops, and nobody would take that seriously. His habit of calling you his little bro, or some variation of that, as a pet name did not help in the slightest.

At first, it was funny. Just at the beginning of your relationship, when you intended to keep your fondness away from prying eyes and wanted to enjoy exploring each other in this new, intimate side of things, having people consider you pals was great. You can recall Seonghwa making a few remarks about how cute you would look together, but it was dismissed rather quickly. The first time it happened, you totally saw Yunho's ears go red, him stammering out something about friendships and trust and members making you uncomfortable. 

At the end of your third date, you were sure you wanted this man next to you for life. He took you to the aquarium. It was a cliché, but it's something you have always dreamed of. You love animals, love to learn new things, and you think you love Jeong Yunho. He looked dashing in just a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater; your heart definitely skipped a beat when he smiled, hands reaching to greet you in a short embrace. It skipped a beat again when you heard him laugh lightly at some joke you made. And again, when his hand brushed against yours as you walked to your destination. Stepping into a room with tiny fish specimens showcased in various tanks, blue lights now illuminated his frame and those round sparkling eyes. Your heart doesn't seem to work correctly. 

Few hours went flying. You took pictures. Half of them when he wasn't paying attention. You told him he looks like the prettiest starfish they have and didn't miss his cheeks darkening with blush even in the dim lights. Not too long had passed before you started to point out funky ones to each other, exclaiming, 'You!' and laughing. After a particularly accurate comparison of you to a dwarf puffer ('Dwarf puffers are aggressive, sensitive, and active' the sign read), he reached and intertwined your fingers, not a single hint of trying to hurt you with that juxtaposition, his eyes full of adoration, a huge smile on his face. You could have just kissed him.

He insisted on ice cream later in the evening. You were just heading out the shop when you bumped into Mingi. Faces red but happy, Yunho's arm hugging you to his side, a small bag of sweet treats in his hand. It took a second for Song Mingi to take the sight in. And another second for him to smile and greet you, to ask how's it going and where you're going to go.

''Oh, my girlfriend and I are just going to relax somewhere in the park nearby.''

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Girlfriend. You can definitely get used to being called his girlfriend. And then it happened. Cue Mingi's cluelessness, or the fact that he's just tired from their hectic schedules. 

''Man, it's great that you can be so close with each other and aren't afraid someone will mistake you for a couple. If you could act a bit better, maybe you'd even get a discount sometime!'' With that, he was gone. 

There was a little tradition your small company liked to keep. Board games. 

Every once in a while, when everyone wasn't busy, you'd spend an evening playing, talking, lightly drinking, and overall just relaxing. Adult life could take a really boring turn, the one that only had 'road work ahead, and so should you' sign. Bills, taxes, colleagues being stressed and mean, and yada-yada. Idol life was probably even worse. 

There was some catching up due, and this Saturday night seemed just the perfect opportunity. The lot of you chose a game, lo-fi music was put on for background, and the living room area was cleaned so up to ten people could comfortably sit in a circle. Drinks were cold and ready to be handed out. 

You took a seat in between your beloved Yuyu and Yeosang, a dear friend of yours who got you in the group. You'd expect him to know your heart of all people. Although when you told him about your new boyfriend, all he did was laugh and say that was a good one. 

Bewilderment washed over you in a tidal wave. It showed up on your face, swimming behind your eyes and overflowing in a strangled sound from your lips. And you, Yeosang? With your confused and hurt whimper, the topic was brought to everyone's attention. 

''Did you guys know y/n likes Yunho?'' Maybe it was the alcohol, but you heard more laughter. 

''Oh? But y/n likes all of us, don't you?''

''Well, yes, but—'' you were not going to finish that sentence. He heard what he wanted.

''See?'' Wooyoung looked so smug; if your brain wasn't so busy being confused, you'd be infuriated. Right now you looked like there was a loading circle turning in your head. Hopefully you won't bluescreen. 

''Are you guys pulling my leg?''

''Are you? Seriously, you and Yunho.'' There came a playful nudge to your side. 

You wanted to protest, to ask your boyfriend to back you up, but turning to him, you saw his eyes creased by a smile. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to say that it's fine and they will catch up to it eventually. He knew it was going to take them a while. And with his hand lightly caressing your back, your anger dissipated, replaced by a warm feeling inside your chest. Was it always so hot in here?

''Just relax, little pal. I got you.''

A while has passed before you decided to be openly affectionate, at least around those closest to you. 

It was a day off for the both of you. You planned on going out, but upon seeing your boyfriend's tired eyes, you opted to offer a quiet night in. Weather seemed to agree with that, given that it started raining against the broadcast's best predictions. 

You were met with Hongjoong, who opened the door and let you in. When you entered their living room, you saw Yunho, still in sweatpants and a big shirt, holding a steaming mug. 

''Hey.'' He said, ''Isn't it my favorite little dude!''

''Hello, honey.''

The warmth in your voices could melt the arctic icebergs. You took a few moments just to look at each other, gentle smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths. 

''Oh, hey, bro! I'm also in the room, where's my sweet greeting?''

It was San, a pout already present on his sleepy face. 

''You'd get it when you have a girlfriend.''

The day was spent in the comfort of their couch, with soft cushions and comforters draped around. None of you cared for the cancelled plans, not really, when all you ever wanted was to be in each other's presence. That was enough. Several movies were watched, hot tea keeping the cozy atmosphere company. You were cuddled with Yunho, feeling warm and giddy. That's when Seonghwa made another comment about how cute the two of you were. 

''But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, y/n. Don't take this close to heart. We know there's nothing romantic going on.''

It was as though they were doing it on purpose.

''It's okay, Seonghwa; we are together. Like, I love him and all that.''

Your voice was steady, your face was serious, and yet…

''Of course you are,'' San almost scoffed. ''But that behavior is exactly why you can't get a date these days. People see Yunho and don't dare approach you.''

A light chuckle could be heard from the room; Yunho also couldn't contain his. The more blunt you were at stating your relationship status, the more oblivious band members became. 

''Little broski is saying she doesn't need a date. She has me. Right, darling?''

Yunho was being honest. You nod at him, darting your eyes back at your friends in hopes of seeing the realization there. Yet, his playful tone and charming smile did nothing to convince the others. It's not like you've been actively trying to make them believe you were an item. Though now it seemed to irritate you a bit. Was it really that hard to imagine you and Jeong Yunho together? Were you not good enough in their eyes? Or was it his habit of calling you bro? You never knew. 

''Why is it so hard for you to believe we're dating, though?''

You voiced your thoughts, needing to know the answer now.

''Y/n, love… You'd date a reputable scam artist before Yunho; we know that much. You'd probably even date Hongjoong first if-''

''I can hear that!''

That was the captain's answer from the kitchen.

''A reputable scam artist?''

That was your confused reply. What does that even mean?

''And what is so wrong with dating me? I'm handsome, I'm charming, and so, so funny! A real treat. I could also be a scam artist if I really wanted to.''

A strangled sound tore from your chest.

''See? That's a laugh.''

There was another. He was not at all interested in proving them wrong.

You couldn't believe your luck when you showed up at the dorms a week later and no one was there. 

Yunho had called you, asking you to come in, some mischevous spark laced in his tone. It turns out, the boys had work, and those who didn't decided on spending the day outside. There was undoubtedly a need for shopping for essential items, as well as just a bit of fresh air and relaxation for those workaholics. Well deserved. Yunho needed it too. So when he asked if you could just cuddle him a bit and maybe cook something easy later, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny this request.

His bed? Soft. His body? Warm. Hands? Big and strong and held you against him perfectly. You were happy. You basked in the feeling of his chest pressed against your back, like puzzle pieces, you thought. You traced the veins on his arms, switching to play with his fingers from time to time. This feels nice. This feels so right. How could his members not see this? You were practically made for each other. You decided to bring it up.

''Why do you think our friends don't take us seriously?''

He let out an amused hum, his breath fanning over your neck. 

''I dunno. Maybe they all want you, just can't take the fact I already hogged you for myself.''

He hugged you tighter. In all honesty, that was distracting. How could you think about other guys, about anything else, really, when your big and strong boyfriend held you so tenderly against himself? The thought of him wanting you and caring for you as much as you did for him should melt your heart. Instead, with the way his fingers played with your shirt, caressing your skin where it had rode up, it sent hot waves someplace else. Were you cruel enough to ruin this perfect cuddle session with your dirty thoughts? 

''You're here, love?'' His hand went up to cradle your face. 

Turning to him, you couldn't avoid looking at his lips. So pink and soft. You know just how nice they feel against yours. Your eyes had darkened already, the feelings you had for this man had your head all dizzy. Without much thinking, you moved forward, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You felt his breath hitch. A tiny sound tried to escape his throat, but your mouth didn't let it. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair. You just couldn't resist massaging his scalp and tugging gently, soft locks slipping through your fingers. And god were you rewarded with another sound from him, right into your lips, chest reverberating against yours. He stopped kissing you; for a moment he just needed to look at your face. Rose hue on your cheeks and blown eyes — no doubt he looked the same. 

''I see,'' he chucled. Hands roaming your body, skimming your sides. ''You're so amazing. I can't get enough of you, my little bro.''

There it was again. The way he said it was ethereal. His voice so soft and perfectly low, his eyes dark and full of adoration. But it was the bro part that got your mind out of the gutter. Only for a moment, though.

''I want to make love to you so badly,'' you started. He sucked in a breath. His eyes fixated on your face, jumping over to your lips for a second. ''But please, stop with the bro thing. You can put that mouth to better use.''

''I'll be good,'' is his promise. 

With that, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time pressing into you harder, needier. You couldn't control yourself any longer, too. With a soft moan, he moved even closer, almost getting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. And it feels, oh, so good. You bite on his lower lip carefully, anything to hear his beautiful sounds again. You let him take the lead, tongue gliding over yours. He moans at the taste. 

Tongue keeps rooling over yours; he lets his hands slide under your shirt. He kneads your breasts, then moves his hands over to grab at your hips and thighs, and back under your shirt again. You feel on fire. You want him to touch you everywhere at once; you want to touch him even more. You're the first to give in, reaching to help him take his t-shirt off. 

He's gorgeous. Hair a bit messy, lips glossy and red from the kiss. He pants a little, and you reach to glide your hand over his abs and chest, circling over his nipple. You can hear a tiny pleased sound leaving him, but it's not enough. He reattaches himself to you right away, mouth finding your neck. He kisses, bites, and licks at your most sensitive spots. You take him back gladly, hugging him close and moving your hips to meet his. He seems eager to do the same, another perfect sound leaves his lips. It's a groan, and it's right into your ear, and it makes your head spin. 

''God, you feel amazing.'' He breathes out, and you can't take it anymore. You want him, you need him with you, on you, in you. Your clothes get swiftly discarded, that eagerness earning you a quiet snicker. You don't care; your brain is in a fog, Yunho is the only thing on your mind.

''Please, touch me.'' you ask, settled in his sheets and looking up in his eyes, dark pools filled with lust to the brim. 

He obliges, positioning himself at your side. ''How do you want it, baby?'' He asks, but his hands are already on you. He groups your breasts once more, bringing his mouth to suck at your neck, moving down until he can lick your nipple. He plays with you as he pleases, kneading your skin and ghosting over the area where you want him the most. ''Please,'' you whine. 

''What? Isn't it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?''

He moves his hand to massage your thighs so close to your hot core, playing with your inner thighs, pinching slightly. You start to buck your hips involuntarily. Oh, but then he moves it over your belly to your nipples again. You tug at his hands and whine again. With more and more whimpering coming from you, he surrenders. 

Long fingers find your sticky folds to roll through them. The sound you let out makes his dick twitch in his underwear. When he finally pays attention to your clit, you feel exstatic. You look at him, at his concentrated face as he plays with you. You're lost in this feeling, lost in him. His fingers enter you suddenly, and you try to say something, but no real words come out. All you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. Your fingers can never do what his long ones can. They strech you a bit, just enough to feel this sweet pressure and leave you wanting more. Just enough to reach that gummy spot there that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. 

''You look so good like this, fuck.'' He praises. His voice brings you back to reality. ''So fucked out already, and I barely even done anything.'' 

You want to protest, to say that you are not fucked out yet, but the way your walls clench around his fingers is a dead giveaway. You are losing your mind a little. Can he really blame you, though, when he's the one pressing on that spot inside of you, so, so well. You can't really say anything, the only sounds escaping are your moans. Yunho thinks your voice sounds like honey, so sweet and thick with arousal. He bucks his hips against you, breathing deeply.

You reach for his cock, still trapped in his sweats and boxers. Suddenly, the fabric is just so frustrating. He lets out an airy laugh at your feeble attempt at touching him, taking his fingers out. You mewl at sudden loss pathetically. 

''What's wrong, love? Do you miss me already?''

He leaves your side not even for a minute, but it feels like forever. With a teasing grin, he discards the rest of his clothing and finally climbs back to bed, now on top of you. It's great. He's big and pinning you down and pressing to you just right. 

You want him inside, so you try to shift a little, make it more comfortable for him to finally fuck you, but he doesn't budge. The look you're giving his way is comical. You're flushed and needy, and there's that throbber almost visible on your forehead again. Your boyfriend doesn't give you time to ask, diving into another heated kiss with you. Your moan is bordering on a sob when he opts to fuck your mouth with his tongue instead of fucking you like you desperately need him to. 

When at last he's lining his cock up with your slit, you think you're actually going to cry. He's so hard and so big, the stretch feels euphoric. Pleasure overtakes and your eyes flutter shut as he slowly bottoms out. 

''Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby.'' 

His words come out in a mix of a moan and a growl. You swear you could come just listening to him, hand-free and all that. You open your eyes, and the sight is breathtaking. He moves inside of you, your walls feel hot and tight and like the most expensive velvet. You can see all of that in his eyes. He feels so good, and you're the one making him hiss and groan in pleasure, his mouth forming the perfect O's and stuttering muddled praises. God, you love him.

You can't keep thinking about it for much longer. The pace he's set becomes a bit faster and sloppier, and he reaches his hand in between your bodies to put pressure on your clit. With it comes his strangled warning, '' 'm close, honey.'' And you can feel it, too. His dick hits that spot in you just right, and with your clit stimulated, the familiar feeling is building in your stomach faster and faster. ''Me too,'' your eyes close without you realizing it, and with a cry of his name, you come all over his cock. A string of curses follows, and you feel him twitch, hips stilling, and warm liquid fills you up. 

You take a minute to come down to earth again, and so does he. Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek, he rolls over beside you, still panting a little. 

''Fuck. My baby, you did so well.'' 

You're not sure how it is possible to feel so giddy and syrupy after being so unbelievably horny just a second ago. Guess he has that effect on you.

''It was amazing, Yuyu. I love you, so much.''

''I love you too.''

He drapes his blanket over the both of you, snuggling closer, stroking your hair with your head on his chest. You want to say more cheesy things to him. Just as you open your mouth, though, there's a knock on the door, and Mingi's figure pops in, hand covering his eyes.

''Are you guys done? Please tell me you're decent; I do not want to see y/n's boobs or worse!'' 

You yelp, tugging the covers to your chin. Both Yunho and you decide to speak.

''We're decent.'' 

''When did you come back?!''

''Just in time to hear the closing credits.''

Mingi is now taking in the scene. Clothes scattered on the floor, Yunho's disheveled look, you trying to hide in the blanket. Lovely.

''I am traumatized, by the way.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''We brought beef, by the way. Wanna join us in the kitchen?''

You're lost. You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or offended. Mingi doesn't bat an eye at your barely covered form. At least that's what it feels like.

''Let us maybe get dressed first?'' Yunho chimes in, hugging you to him to try and cover himself a bit too. 

Mingi leaves, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You start to shift a bit when the door gets burst open once again, followed by, ''Wait, so you are actually dating?!''

[newworldwritings]

ateez when their s/o gives them cutness aggression

-> words count : 963 words

-> genre : fluff

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> author's note : @mjilv gave me the idea of doing an ateez version so here it is ! hope you'll like it !

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist

svt version | ateez version

KIM HONGJOONG

cause of the aggression : hongjoong coming home very sleepy after a long day working at the studio.

actually, it’s more the way he latches on you as soon as he spots you that melts your heart.

you immediately wrap your arms around him and bury your nose in his hair, then you leave a string of kisses on the crown of his head. 

even after so many hours working, he still smells so good and you’re a little jealous. 

and hongjoong is too tired to try and stop you from doing your thing, on the contrary, he relaxes even more in your embrace, quietly humming in satisfaction.

“how was your day joongie ?”

“so much better now that I’m with you.”

PARK SEONGHWA

cause of the aggression : seonghwa proudly showing off the new lego set he just built. 

you had always thought that your boyfriend’s passion for lego was endearing, but the way he always seeks out your approval on everything he adds to his collection makes you want to keep him with you forever. 

so instead of paying attention to the piece in his hands, you squish his cheeks and kiss his lips repeatedly instead. 

seonghwa whines a few times, asking you what you are doing but honestly, he loves the affection so he quickly shuts up.

“now, what were you saying, baby ?”

“i’m not sure i wanna talk about legos now. can you kiss me again instead ?”

JEONG YUNHO

cause of the aggression : you know the golden retriever energy he has ? yeah, that is enough.

because why does his whole face light up when he finds you in the cereal aisle at the grocery store, showing off the new ice cream flavors he’s been wanting to try. 

and you don’t care that you’re in public because you just need to show him that you love him.

so you grab his arm and stand on your tippy toes to be able to kiss his cheeks as many times as you want.

and yunho’s giggles as you do it don’t help calm you down.

“what was that for ?”

“don’t act like you don’t know how cute you are, jeong yunho.”

KANG YEOSANG

cause of the aggression : you know the way he’s looking above himself sometimes ? that is literally the cutest thing ever wtf ???

so when you pass behind the couch and your boyfriend does that, you cannot help the urge to bend down and leave a trail of kisses along his forehead.

yeosang sometimes doesn’t understand you, but he loves your kisses so he lets you do your thing. 

when you finally let him go, you notice his red ears, and you chuckle lightly before giving him a real kiss on the lips.

“i’m never getting used to this.”

“good, i want you to be surprised everytime i come out of nowhere to give you affection.”

CHOI SAN

cause of the aggression : san pouting at you because you don’t want to sleep with him due to the unbearable heat of the summer. 

you were already sweating like crazy, and you didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night all sticky because your boyfriend wasn’t able to keep his hands off of you.

but the way he was pleading you with his whole face was too cute to ignore. 

so you simply sighed as you settled in his arms again and went to kiss his pouty lips. and as soon as you were done with your attack, san was all smiley again.

���you’re such a child.”

“maybe, but you love me.”

SONG MINGI

cause of the aggression : his big smile, the one that makes me want to kill myself because he’s too fucking pretty for this world. 

when he’s smiling like that, it’s already hard to manage, but when that smile is directed at you, it’s impossible to pass on the opportunity to kiss his whole face.

so you don’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands and press your lips against every inch of his skin.

and his smile doesn’t leave him as you go on, his own hands going down to grab your waist.

as soon as you’re done, he’s pressing a kiss to your own lips, and his eyes are filled with love.

“i really don’t deserve you.”

“you do mingi, you deserve the world.”

JUNG WOOYOUNG

cause of the aggression : we all know how cute he is when he’s taking care of kids so seeing him be all lovey dovey with your little cousins makes your heart flutter. 

as soon as wooyoung said his goodbyes to the little girl because you had to go, you’re all over him.

he doesn’t understand what’s happening, and he’s whiny at the beginning, trying to push you off of him.

but he progressively gives up on his plan and simply lets you do your thing. 

and when you finally let him go - and breathe some fresh air - he cannot hide his cheeky smile.

“something’s wrong with you, i swear.”

“as if you’re not just as crazy !”

CHOI JONGHO

cause of the aggression : once again, the smile. like, his big gummy smile… killing myself again.

no but how can you resist him when he’s smiling at you like that ?? you can’t ! 

so even if he didn’t ask for this, you kiss his face as many times as you can before jongho starts to protest. 

but both of you know that it’s only to try and keep his composure, because he loves it when you’re showering him with your love like that.

but he has a reputation to hold (he has none but you let him believe it because he’s cute).

“all of that just because of my smile ?”

“don’t play dumb ! you know very well how weak i am !”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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[newworldwritings]

Bump and Trim

SUMMARY |  San helps you trim the hair around your intimate parts since you're pregnant.

PAIRINGS |  San x Reader

GENRE |  smut, established relationship, pregnancy, non-idol au

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (both f/m receiving/giving), praise kink, pet names

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH |  2,285 words

TAGLIST | --

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

“San! Honey!” You called out from the bathroom, waiting for you husband of many years to answer your beckon. It took only a few moments and then you were face to face with his handsome self leaning against the doorway, a smile plastered to his lips.

“Hmm?” he hummed at you and you tried really, really hard to not focus on how that particular little noise was going straight to the region you wanted to shave. Damn his voice for having so much control of you.

Instead, you held out the razor towards him and smiled. His brow raised in confusion and you wiggled the object closer. “San, can you help me shave? I can't reach down there and my belly is in the way and..."

"Love, why do you need to shave? Won't it affect the baby? Not to mention how bad it'd be if you got a cut." San interjected before you could finish.

"But it's a freaking forest down there." You pouted, letting your hand drop to your belly that housed your unborn child, his hand covering your own. You saw a spark of a firelight behind San's eyes as his attention fell to your belly and his hand rubbed circles gently across its surface.

"How about we trim it to keep it nice and tidy?" He suggested and then kissed the bridge of your nose to add emphasis to his desire to not harm you or your womb mate. "And then after you give birth, I will personally take care of the grooming of the forest that will reside between those heavenly legs of yours. Do you agree?"

You pretended to mull it over for a few moments, humming in feigned thought before giving a small giggle as San's hand cupped your ass and pressed himself firmly against your swollen midsection. A quiet moan left your throat and his fingers dug into the flesh. He needed you; his hormones were in just as much disarray as yours.

"Lovely idea, my dearest husband." You managed to rasp.

"Indeed it was..." his voice dropped several octaves.

He picked you up, easily and carefully, and then sat you gently on the bed, laying out towels and propping a pillow to lean against your back, keeping your pelvic region open to him. Carefully he separated your legs, just a few inches, before wetting the pubic area a little with a wet cloth he retrieved from the bathroom. He got the clippers ready and checked everything and you couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, eager to feel his tender hands between your thighs.

"What is so funny, wife?" He questioned, turning the clippers on before gently taking some hairs between the blades. He clipped them neatly, making sure none was too long or too short and didn't make a mess. Your skin tingle from the new sensation.

"Just your adorable concentration." You giggled softly, propping the pillow and yourself a little more and caressing San's smooth face while he worked on a very ticklish area. It wasn't an unusual task for him to do this, and you thanked your lucky stars every day that San was comfortable with things most males were shy with. He was gentle, loving and quite talented.

"I'm concentrating on an area that I have very deep appreciation for." He hummed happily as he snipped another tiny clump of hair.

"Oh, so you care more about my forest than about your baby and wife, do you?" You teased, playfully poking his cheekbone. He smacked your finger with his own finger, his lips quirked in a smile.

"If I don't tend to the forest, how else will you allow me access to the tree situated in the middle?" He answered.

The statement made you break into a loud burst of giggles. "You're so weird sometimes!" You snorted through a laugh, resting the back of your head on the pillow behind you. He looked up from his careful work, grinning from ear to ear, baring teeth, tongue stuck out slightly.

"Only for you, babe." He teased back.

"If only my husband would always stay between my thighs...all my stress would go away and the world would be right again." You stated boldly, feeling empowered in that moment to admit how much you craved your husband's attention and adoration. It felt great.

"Aren't you needy all the time?" He added.

"You're the one who made me like this, San."

"Guess I better hurry this trimming up so I can fulfill my wife's request..." He growled.

Once your lower pelvic region was nicely trimmed, he was going to pull back and stop there. However, that didn't exactly go according to plan.

You let out a small whine from behind clenched teeth and pouted at him, making a shoving motion between your legs with your hand. His gaze fell there and he knew immediately you didn't want any of this stopping now that you were feeling this aroused. "I'm waiting, husband."

It's been four months since you and San stopped having sex because of the pregnancy and it was really, really frustrating. Of course the doctor said it would be safe to have sex during pregnancy, but this was San and he was a worrywart for both yourself and your little one.

"Are you certain, my love?" His expression was that of longing. Longing to touch you. Longing to have you beneath his skilled fingers. Longing to claim what belonged to him and no other.

"The doctor said it was fine, San." You replied. He waited still. "I just...can you please, please get to business here? I'm fucking horny as fuck right now and I just need you like eat me out or something."

And that he did, slowly and deliciously dragging his tongue across every bit of skin from inner thighs to pubic bone. He enjoyed the tangy taste of your sweetness on his tongue and you enjoyed the way he groaned his enjoyment of it, the vibrations from his mouth on your sex, hitting you just the right way, sending hot sparks of arousal up and down your spine, leaving you breathless and clutching at the blankets. Your body trembled from all the stimulation he was sending through your being, tongue dipping into every fold and tasting every part.

San held you gently, his hands cradling your swollen belly while he made slow love to you with his mouth. His tongue stroked and swirled across your clit and then sucked ever so slightly upon the bundle of nerves, smiling at each gasp, groan, and moan that escaped your parted lips. You clasped your hand on his hand that rested on your belly and gripped your other hand into the bed sheets.

"I can't believe that our daughter is growing in your beautiful body right now..." He murmured after another tender lick that ended at your sweet entrance. "She'll be the cutest little lady that anyone could ever meet, next to you, my love."

"Keep- keep talking, honey..." Your body spasmed, waves of heat pulsing through you, getting closer and closer to completion. He rubbed your belly with one hand and then made sure to find one of your own hands and laced his fingers with yours.

"So strong and gorgeous, aren't you, my queen." He breathed against the apex between your thighs, feeling them quake under his hold. You moaned a bit louder, losing your sense of volume, knowing you had a very sexy and attractive husband between your legs who was loving your pussy and teasing you to the point of almost being able to orgasm.

Almost.

"Please..." You begged him, pleading with him to help bring you that last bit further.

"I love you, y/n" he smiled from the spot where his nose was nestled among your trimmed, yet moist curls and licked a little longer, pressing his thumb against your nub, stroking at the sensitive flesh. His long fingers prodded against your cunt and slid inside without warning, giving you the opportunity you needed. He curled his fingers just right and pulled another loud groan from you. Your back arched off the bed, but he leaned down quickly, laying his head onto your belly and rubbing it a little firmer, so you were laid flush to the bed.

"O-oh!" Was all you could say, every muscle tensing, a feeling of euphoria washing over you in waves of hot pleasure, shuddering around San's fingers. As if on cue, he removed his digits slowly from inside of you, placing soft kisses and kitten licks on your clitoris, down along your slit. It didn't matter much, though because your body went slack against the bed, breath coming in gasps and your entire being trembling, dripping wet and covered in sweat.

"Done eating my forest?" You groaned out, trying to catch your breath, cheeks flushed from the wonderful moment he just gave you. He chuckled and kissed his way up your body, mindful of your pregnant belly, and claimed your lips sweetly.

"Most certainly. I can see my way through." San joked and nuzzled his nose along your temple lovingly. "You okay, my love? Was that good?"

"So, so amazing. Thank you so much, San." You blushed from your head down to your neck, hiding your face in your husband's shoulder, biting down slightly, wanting to return the favor, even if it couldn't be nearly as spectacular as his skilled tongue could do.

He flinched at the feeling and shivered, laughing at your bashfulness. "And how would you repay my deed?"

"How about my hands?" You suggested, a smile spreading across your face. He helped you move into a comfortable position and leaned down to kiss the bridge of your nose tenderly.

"As long as they're attached to an amazing wife, anything will do." San moaned softly into another kiss to your mouth.

His pelvic muscles quivered when you took hold of his heavy length and stroked carefully along the length and felt the hot length pulse in your fingers, a whisper of a name falling past his lips, mingling with his soft moan, filling the quiet bedroom. San bucked lightly into your hand, wanting more friction and you were quick to oblige by running your palm up and down a little faster, the girth twitching when you squeezed just enough around him.

His hands took hold of your free one, intertwining fingers, placing sweet kisses on your knuckles and panting loudly, groans of praise and excitement muffled with his sweet touches. The scent of his excitement, precum leaking profusely from his swollen cockhead, causing your hand to slide easily across his shaft.

"I love you so much..." San murmured in your ear. You hummed your approval of the lovely words, brushing your thumb over his tip, swiping more beads of precum from the tip. With a loud exhale, his brow furrowed, chest heaving with the breaths.

"Are you close?" You asked him, licking your lips and squeezing again, thumb brushing and feeling the blood coursing underneath the flesh. It throbbed under your hand and it made you want to taste him, even if the sensation wasn't quite the same.

"Gods...don't stop, babe...right there..." his moans grew higher pitched as he arched off the bed, movements growing erratic, jerking himself with your hand around his aching cock. You increased the pace a bit more and kissed his flushed cheek when he craned his neck to rest his head on the pillow behind him.

San couldn't quite form sentences anymore. Just pleas for more, to keep going. To milk his thick shaft for all its worth. And that was exactly what you did. In seconds his warm, sticky cum painted across his chest and spilled a little on your belly, pooling above your naval. The creamy white substance oozed from him, overflowing as you continued your slow, languid strokes, relishing the feeling of his climax in your fingers, his shaky, erotic expressions.

The moment his breathing slowed and his body relaxed against the bed once more, he let out a loud sigh. A satisfied sound that left no doubt he enjoyed every minute of that. Your lips found his own in a sweet and tender kiss.

"That was glorious." San grinned lazily from beside you.

You giggled a bit at the euphoria covering his face. He sat up, cleaned the two of you up a bit before pulling you against his frame, wrapping his arms around you lovingly. His attention turned towards the baby bump between you. He was silent for a few minutes, admiring the view he had of his future child in there and the feel of you cuddled in his arms, a glow about you he adored.

The baby kicked and moved in you, causing you to squeak. The look on San's face went from surprise to full fledged affection for both you and your child. His hand immediately came to your stomach and felt the baby shift about, the sensation a little uncomfortable to you, but wonderful all the same.

"Already so protective." You hummed and laid your palm across San's, helping him map your stomach.

"How can I not be? You and our baby are everything I've always wanted." San admitted, watching the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you laughed and how they closed when you were pleased with something he said or done.

"God, I hope the baby has your eyes, San." You whispered into the evening air, San kissing the crown of your head and continuing to caress your stomach as you two snuggled together in bed.

You would just have to wait and find out a few months later.