#a Korean entertainment company | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kathaelipwse · 9 days ago

Text

The Moment I Saw You || C.San

Pairing: Rookie.Idol!Reader x Idol!San

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 10,495 words ; Reading Time: 40-ish mins

Synopsis: They called you the "guitar rookie" — cool, mysterious, and unforgettable on stage. But for San, it only took one performance to fall completely under your spell. What starts as quiet glances and backstage banter slowly turns into secret texting, emotional confessions, and late-night comfort. But fame is cruel, and love in the spotlight even more so. When the hate gets brutal, San does something no one expects — he fights for you.

Author’s Note: This story’s a love letter to that electric spark between two people who meet in the whirlwind of fame and find peace in each other. I adore writing flustered San, loyal San, "ride-or-die" San — so this fic gave me life. Hope you enjoy the slow burn, tension, and soft chaos.

The air in the practice room always smelled faintly of sweat and ambition, a potent cocktail that you had grown accustomed to. Just six months into your solo debut, the buzz around you was a low hum, a quiet acknowledgment of the raw talent that crackled through your live performances. In a sea of perfectly synchronized dance routines and polished pop anthems, you offered something different: grit. Authenticity. And a damn good electric guitar.

Your company, a smaller label that had taken a gamble on your unique blend of idol charm and rockstar edge, was cautiously optimistic. Your digital single had performed respectably, earning you a small but fiercely loyal fanbase who appreciated your self-composed tracks and the way your fingers danced across the fretboard during live stages – a genuine rarity in the current idol landscape.

You yourself preferred the quiet hum of anticipation to the deafening roar of immediate fame. It gave you space to breathe, to hone your craft, to let the music speak for itself. Your stage presence was a carefully constructed paradox: cool and composed, almost aloof, yet undeniably magnetic. There was a mysterious charm about the way you’d offer a fleeting smirk after a particularly sharp riff, the way your dark eyes would scan the crowd with an unreadable intensity.

Tonight, however, the quiet hum was about to be amplified to a deafening roar. Tonight was the culmination of a year’s worth of relentless work: the prestigious Gayo Daejun. The air backstage thrummed with nervous energy, a chaotic symphony of hurried footsteps, last-minute mic checks, and the hushed excitement of idols from every corner of the industry.

Your own dressing room felt like a small island of calm amidst the storm. Your black custom guitar, affectionately nicknamed 'Shadow', leaned against the wall, its sleek body gleaming under the soft lighting. Your stylist fussed with the subtle silver chains adorning your black leather jacket, while your makeup artist dabbed at your already flawless smoky eye.

“Ready, Y/N-ah?” your manager, a kind but perpetually stressed man named Mr. Kim, poked his head in.

You offered a small, confident nod. Inside, however, a familiar flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. This was the biggest stage you’d ever performed on. The audience wasn’t just your fans; it was the entire Korean entertainment industry, fellow idols you admired, and millions watching at home.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension backstage thickened. Snippets of other performances drifted into your room – the booming bass of a powerful dance track, the soaring vocals of a ballad. Then, Mr. Kim gave you the signal. It was time.

Walking towards the stage felt surreal. The backstage area was a blur of glittering costumes and anxious faces. You took a deep breath, the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume filling your lungs. The roar of the crowd beyond the heavy curtains was a tangible thing, a wave of sound that promised both exhilaration and potential disaster.

Your name flashed on the monitor, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins. This was it.

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight pierced the darkness, landing squarely on your silhouette as you stood center stage, Shadow slung low across your hips. A hush fell over the arena, a pregnant silence that amplified the frantic beating of your own heart.

Then, you raised your hand, your fingers hovering over the strings. A single, clean note rang out, cutting through the silence. It was the opening of your self-composed track, a raw and edgy anthem about breaking free. The crowd responded with a wave of cheers, but you barely registered it. Your focus narrowed, your world shrinking to the six strings beneath your fingertips.

The first chord hit like a punch to the gut – a gritty, distorted power chord that reverberated through the stadium. The stage lights pulsed in time with the music, casting sharp shadows that danced around you. Your cool composure settled over you like a second skin. Head tilted slightly, you launched into the opening riff, your fingers a blur of practiced precision.

From the side of the stage, hidden in the shadows after the explosive finale of his own group’s performance, Choi San stood catching his breath. Ateez had just delivered a high-octane set, leaving the crowd in a frenzy. He was about to grab a water bottle when a lone figure walked onto the stage. He barely glanced up, expecting another flashy dance number.

But then, the first chord struck.

San froze. The plastic water bottle slipped from his suddenly numb fingers, clattering unnoticed on the floor. His jaw went slack, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t just the sound – though the raw, live tone of the electric guitar was a shock in itself – it was the sheer confidence emanating from the figure bathed in the spotlight.

His heart, which had been pounding from Ateez’s intense performance, now seemed to have vanished entirely, replaced by a strange, hollow ache.

He watched, unblinking, as you moved with a fluid grace that belied the aggressive energy of your music and your soft voice blending well. The way your head would snap back with a flick of your dark hair during a particularly powerful strum, the fleeting smirk that would play on your lips as you effortlessly shredded a solo – it was captivating.

The music surged, a tidal wave of sound washing over the arena. San was oblivious to the cheers of the crowd, the flashing lights, the murmurs of his own members nearby. His entire world had narrowed to the figure on stage, the girl with the guitar, the raw talent that seemed to bleed from her fingertips.

He watched as you stepped closer to the edge of the stage during a particularly intricate solo, your eyes locking with unseen members of the audience. There was a fire in them, a fierce passion that resonated deep within him.

The final chord crashed, echoing through the stadium before fading into a sudden, profound silence. Then, the arena erupted. The cheers were deafening, a testament to the captivating performance they had just witnessed.

You offered a small bow, the corner of your lips tilting into that enigmatic smirk one last time before you turned and walked off stage, disappearing behind the curtain.

San remained rooted to the spot, his mind a complete blank. The echoes of the music still vibrated in his chest. It wasn't just that you were talented; there was something else, something that had resonated with him on a visceral level.

Finally, as his members started to nudge him, concern etched on their faces, San managed a single, breathless utterance, his voice barely a whisper amidst the lingering roar of the crowd.

“…who is she?”

The adrenaline from Ateez’s performance had long since faded, replaced by a persistent, almost unsettling hum within San. Back in their dorm, the usual boisterous energy of the members felt muted, a backdrop to the insistent replay echoing in his mind. He’d excused himself shortly after they’d arrived, claiming exhaustion, but instead, he’d retreated to his bunk, phone clutched tightly in his hand.

The YouTube video title glowed on the screen: “Y/N - Iconic Solo Debut Stage @ Gayo Daejun” He’d found it within minutes of searching, the algorithm already attuned to the sudden spike in interest surrounding the mysterious guitarist.

He pressed play.

The opening chord of ‘[Your Song Title]’ reverberated through his earbuds, sending a familiar jolt through him. He watched, his eyes glued to the screen, as you stepped into the spotlight. Every subtle movement, every confident strum, every flick of your hair was magnified, imbued with a significance he couldn’t quite articulate.

He watched the entire performance again, and then again. A strange tension coiled in his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t just admiration for your talent; it was something deeper, something that felt intensely personal.

On the fourth viewing, he paused the video. It was a fleeting moment, almost imperceptible – a small, genuine smile that flickered across your lips after nailing a particularly challenging riff. It wasn’t a practiced idol smile for the cameras; it was a flash of pure, unadulterated joy, a glimpse behind the cool facade. San’s thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the curve of your smile as if he could somehow capture the feeling it evoked within him. His chest tightened.

He replayed the solo, the intricate melody and the raw energy of your playing sending shivers down his spine. He’d always appreciated good musicianship, but this… this was different. It wasn't just skill; it was soul. It was like the music was an extension of you, a direct line to something honest and captivating.

A restless energy began to build within him. He needed to know more.

He exited YouTube and opened his browser, typing in your stage name. Information flooded the screen: your full name, your company, the name of your debut single, even a few interviews where you spoke shyly about your music and your unconventional path as a guitar-playing idol. He clicked on every link, devouring every piece of information, piecing together a fragmented image of the person behind the captivating performer.

He learned you were a soloist, which surprised him. Your stage presence felt like it could command an entire band. He scrolled through fan forums, reading comments that echoed his own fascination: “Who is this girl?”, “That guitar solo was insane!”, “Her vibe is so cool.”

Later, when a few of the members had gathered in the common room, their post-show buzz slowly dissipating into comfortable exhaustion, San couldn’t contain it any longer. He wandered in, his phone still clutched in his hand.

“Do you guys know the rookie guitarist from tonight?” he asked, his voice a little too eager.

Wooyoung, sprawled on the couch scrolling through his own phone, looked up, a playful smirk already forming on his lips. “You mean the one you haven’t stopped watching on your phone?”

San flushed slightly, trying to appear nonchalant. “I was just… impressed. Her live playing was really something.”

Jongho, ever the straightforward one, nodded. “She was good. Definitely stood out.”

Hongjoong, who had been quietly sketching in a notebook, looked up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Bro. You’ve watched that clip six times since we got back.”

San’s ears burned. He hadn’t realized he’d been that obvious. He mumbled something about needing to analyze different performance styles.

Hongjoong leaned back, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Analyzing, huh? Or maybe… admiring?” He tapped his pen against his chin thoughtfully. “She did have a certain… je ne sais quoi.”

San avoided his leader’s gaze, suddenly finding the pattern on the rug intensely interesting.

“Just ask her out already, Romeo,” Hongjoong added, his voice laced with playful teasing.

San’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Hyung! What? No! I just… I was curious about her music.”

The other members exchanged knowing glances, a chorus of suppressed chuckles filling the room. San knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. The image of you on stage, bathed in that single spotlight, the raw sound of your guitar echoing in his ears, was firmly imprinted in his mind. The quiet hum of curiosity had morphed into something far more insistent, a burgeoning fascination that felt dangerously close to… obsession. And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the music show backstage buzzed with a familiar, almost sterile energy. A few days had passed since the Gayo Daejun, and the memory of your performance still lingered in San’s mind like a favorite song he couldn’t stop humming. He’d tried to play it cool around his members, deflecting their teasing with awkward jokes and feigned disinterest. But the truth was, he’d spent a significant amount of his downtime rewatching your stage and scrolling through any new information he could find about you. He even found a few fan-made compilation videos of your live guitar moments, each one further solidifying his initial captivated impression.

Fate, or perhaps his own carefully orchestrated movements, had brought them both to the same music show today. Ateez had an early performance slot, and San had been surprisingly subdued throughout their pre-show preparations, his usual playful energy noticeably absent. His mind was elsewhere, a nervous anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. He kept replaying Hongjoong’s teasing words – “Just ask her out already, Romeo” – and a ridiculous scenario where he tripped over his own feet while trying to introduce himself.

He’d subtly inquired about your schedule from one of the staff members he knew, feigning general interest in the lineup. When he learned your dressing room was on the same floor, a few doors down from Ateez’s, a plan began to form – a flimsy, transparent excuse to be in your vicinity. He’d even rehearsed a few potential opening lines in his head, ranging from a simple “Hello” to a more elaborate (and probably disastrous) compliment about your guitar tone.

Now, his heart hammered against his ribs as he stood outside your dressing room, a half-empty water bottle clutched in his hand. He’d “coincidentally” run out of water just as Ateez’s segment wrapped up, and this hallway, he’d reasoned, was the most logical place to find a water dispenser. He leaned against the cool wall, trying to project an air of casual nonchalance, taking slow, deliberate sips. Every distant footstep echoing down the corridor sent a jolt of nervous energy through him. He silently berated himself for his lack of composure. He was Choi San, for crying out loud. He commanded stages filled with roaring fans. Why was this one potential interaction turning him into a stammering mess?

Then, the door to your dressing room opened.

San’s breath hitched. You stepped out, your manager, a slightly harried-looking man in a crisp suit, a few paces behind you, both seemingly engrossed in a quiet conversation. You were dressed in a stylishly understated outfit for your post-performance interviews – dark wash jeans, a slightly oversized band tee, and a delicate silver necklace peeking out from beneath the collar. Your dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that accentuated the sharp angles of your jawline and the delicate curve of your neck. San’s gaze lingered for a fraction too long.

For a split second, your eyes met his. Your expression was neutral, a polite acknowledgment of a familiar face in the industry. But for San, it felt like a spotlight had suddenly illuminated him. He froze, his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance crumbling into a jumbled mess of nerves and a sudden, intense awareness of his own slightly sweaty post-performance state.

He hadn’t planned what to say, hadn’t rehearsed any smooth lines that could possibly convey the impact your performance had had on him. All the witty remarks and carefully crafted compliments he’d mentally conjured vanished from his brain, leaving him with a single, overwhelming thought: it’s really her. Up close, the intensity he’d witnessed on stage was somehow both amplified and softened.

As you drew closer, his throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. He pushed himself off the wall, his legs feeling strangely unsteady, like he’d just finished a particularly grueling choreography session. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled, almost bird-like sound. He winced internally.

“You were…” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the relatively quiet hallway, and tried again, his gaze fixed somewhere around your shoulder, unable to meet your eyes directly. “You were… amazing. At the Gayo… the guitar part? Insane.” He cringed internally at his utterly inadequate delivery. Insane? Really, San? That’s the best you could come up with?

You stopped walking, a genuine hint of surprise flickering in your dark eyes. You shyly tucked a loose strand of hair that had escaped your ponytail behind your ear, a delicate, almost unconscious gesture that San found inexplicably endearing. A faint blush, barely perceptible, dusted your cheeks. You lowered your gaze slightly.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, your voice even more melodic and nuanced than he’d expected from your powerful yet soft singing voice. “I… I didn’t think anyone noticed. It felt a little… out of place, maybe, amidst all the other amazing performances.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile.

San’s internal monologue was a chaotic scream of flailing limbs and incoherent noises. She doesn’t think anyone noticed?! It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! Tell her! Tell her how it made you feel! Tell her you haven’t stopped thinking about it!

But outwardly, he could only manage a slightly wider, albeit still awkward, smile and a more emphatic nod. “Noticed? Are you kidding? It was… captivating. The way you played, the energy… it was completely different. In a really, really good way.” He finally managed to meet your eyes, and the intensity he felt seemed to momentarily surprise you. He quickly looked away again, suddenly feeling like he was staring.

He wanted to say so much more – to tell you how the rawness of your sound had cut through the usual polished perfection, how your confidence with the guitar had been incredibly inspiring, how he’d rewatched your solo countless times. But the words seemed trapped in his throat, choked by a sudden wave of self-consciousness and the unexpected reality of you standing right in front of him.

He offered another small, slightly less awkward smile, hoping it conveyed at least a fraction of the genuine admiration and burgeoning fascination he felt. You returned the smile, a brief, shy curve of your lips that sent another unexpected jolt through him, settling somewhere warm and unfamiliar in his chest.

Then, your manager, who had been patiently observing the exchange, gently placed a hand on your arm. “We should probably get going, Y/N-ah. The interview with Star News is starting soon, and they’re waiting.”

“Right,” you said, nodding apologetically. You offered San another quick, polite nod, your eyes briefly meeting his again with a hint of something he couldn’t quite decipher before continuing down the hallway with your manager.

San watched you walk away, your ponytail swaying gently with each step, his mind still reeling from the brief but impactful interaction. He’d actually spoken to you. He’d sounded like a complete idiot, but he’d spoken to you. He replayed the exchange in his head, dissecting every word, every glance, the shy tuck of your hair, the soft melody of your voice.

He took a long, shaky gulp of water, the coolness doing little to quell the heat rising in his cheeks. He leaned back against the wall again, a goofy, starstruck grin slowly spreading across his face. Choi San, the charismatic performer known for his powerful stage presence and confident charm, was officially a flustered mess. And he had a distinct feeling that this brief backstage run-in was just the beginning of a much more complicated – and potentially exhilarating – chapter.

The weeks that followed the music show took on a surreal quality for both you and San. For you, the unexpected compliment from a senior idol, especially one as charismatic as San of Ateez, had been a pleasant surprise. You’d replayed the brief interaction in your mind a few times, a faint warmth spreading through you at the memory of his earnest, if slightly stammering, praise. You’d even found yourself looking up Ateez’s performances afterwards, a newfound curiosity piqued by his intense stage presence and the powerful dynamic of his group.

Then, the “bump-ins” began.

It started subtly. At the company cafeteria, you’d be mid-bite into your kimbap when you’d glance up to find Ateez at a nearby table, their usual boisterous energy filling the space. More often than not, your eyes would meet San’s, and he’d offer a quick, friendly smile, sometimes accompanied by a small wave. You’d offer a shy nod in return, a blush creeping up your neck.

At music show waiting rooms, their paths seemed to intersect with increasing frequency. He’d always find a reason to approach – a casual “Hey, Y/N-ssi, your performance today was great,” or a lighthearted comment about the chaos backstage. Once, he’d even complimented the unique design on your guitar strap, sparking a brief, slightly awkward but undeniably pleasant conversation about your musical influences.

You tried to rationalize it as coincidence, the inevitable overlap of schedules in the relatively small and interconnected idol world. But a persistent feeling, a delicate dance of anticipation and nervousness, began to bloom in your chest. Every time his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you, a little spark ignited within you.

You found yourself paying more attention to your appearance on days you knew Ateez would be at the same events, and a nervous flutter would erupt in your stomach whenever you heard their distinct laughter echoing down the hallway.

San, on his end, was far from relying on mere chance. He’d become a surprisingly adept strategist, his internal radar constantly pinging for any sign of your presence. He’d casually inquire about your schedule from friendly staff members, linger a little longer near common areas he knew you sometimes frequented, like the practice room hallways or the studio lounges, and even subtly enlist the help of Wooyoung and Seonghwa to “casually” scout ahead.

His members, initially amused by his sudden, laser-like focus, were now exchanging knowing glances and offering increasingly unsubtle teases. “Looking for your sunshine again, San-ah?” Hongjoong had quipped one afternoon, earning him a playful shove.

Then came the official announcement that sent a genuine tremor of excitement through the industry: a special collaboration stage for the upcoming Golden Disc Awards. And your name was listed alongside Ateez. Specifically, the press release detailed a duet and a joint performance piece that would culminate in a powerful instrumental break featuring your guitar playing alongside Ateez’s signature dynamic energy. And the duet partner? Choi San.

A wave of surprise, quickly followed by a surge of nervous excitement that made your palms sweat, washed over you when your manager relayed the news. A collaboration with a group as globally recognized and incredibly talented as Ateez was a monumental opportunity, a chance to reach a wider audience. But the thought of working so intimately with San, the idol who had sparked this unexpected and rather persistent flutter in your heart, sent a different kind of thrill, a more personal and slightly dizzying sensation, through you.

Rehearsals began a week later, a whirlwind of choreography practices with Ateez’s formidable dance line, vocal run-throughs where your voices surprisingly blended with a unique harmony, and meticulous stage blocking sessions. The song was a powerful, emotionally charged ballad that built to an explosive instrumental bridge, perfectly designed to showcase both Ateez’s dramatic performance skills and your raw, emotive guitar prowess.

During these rehearsals, San’s attention was often, though not always overtly, fixed on you. It wasn’t the intense, unwavering gaze from the Gayo stage, but a softer, more curious observation. When you were carefully tuning Shadow before a run-through, the delicate movements of your fingers across the fretboard seemed to captivate him.

He’d lean against the wall, his usual playful banter momentarily silenced, his eyes following your every adjustment. Once, he’d even asked, his voice genuinely curious, “What tuning are you using for this song? It sounds… different.” You’d explained the drop-D tuning and how it lent a heavier feel to the lower register, and he’d listened intently, nodding thoughtfully.

Between takes, as you’d often hum the melody to yourself, lost in the intricacies of the arrangement, his gaze would linger on you, a soft, almost fond smile playing on his lips. Sometimes, he’d even hum along quietly, and you’d catch his eye, a shared moment of musical connection passing between you.

From his perspective, every small detail about you seemed to be etching itself into his memory. The way your brow would furrow in intense concentration as you worked out a particularly complex chord progression, the way you’d tap your foot rhythmically even when you weren’t playing, the small, almost imperceptible sigh you’d let out after a particularly demanding vocal section.

Even the subtle scent that seemed to perpetually surround you – a delicate blend of warm vanilla and a bright, refreshing citrus – became a comforting and uniquely yours sensory detail that he’d subconsciously started to associate with moments of quiet focus and unexpected smiles.

He started calling you “sunshine.” It began innocently enough, a casual remark during a particularly grueling rehearsal when you’d offered a quiet but encouraging word to a visibly tired Wooyoung. “You’re like sunshine, Y/N -ssi,” he’d said with a genuine smile, and the nickname had stuck.

He used it sparingly, mostly during lighter moments or when he wanted to offer encouragement. But the way your cheeks would instantly flush a delicate pink every time the nickname escaped his lips, the way your gaze would momentarily soften and then quickly dart away, told him it had a deeper, more personal impact.

You tried your best to maintain your professional composure, focusing intently on the intricate vocal harmonies you shared with San and the precise timing required for your guitar solo within Ateez’s powerful choreography. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the warmth that spread through you every time San’s gaze lingered a little too long, or the way your heart did a little flip-flop whenever he offered you a genuine, encouraging smile, often accompanied by that endearing nickname.

His presence was a constant, gentle distraction, a warm current that made it harder to maintain your focus but also made the often-stressful rehearsal process feel surprisingly lighter, filled with stolen glances and unspoken understandings.

The tension between you was building, an invisible thread stretching taut with each shared rehearsal and fleeting interaction. It wasn’t just the pressure of the highly anticipated Golden Disc performance; it was the undeniable pull of mutual attraction, a silent conversation conducted through lingering glances, shy smiles, and the shared language of music.

You both knew something was subtly shifting, a delicate connection forming beneath the surface of polite professional interactions. The Golden Disc stage was looming, and with it, the tantalizing promise of a closer collaboration, and perhaps, something significantly more.

The exchange of phone numbers had been a purely practical affair, orchestrated with the efficiency of a military operation by your respective managers under the guise of “seamless rehearsal coordination” for the Golden Disc collaboration. Your contact list now held a new, somewhat official-sounding entry: “San (Ateez) 🎤.” You’d sent a polite introductory text confirming your number, a brief “Hi San-ssi, it’s Y/N. Got your number,” and he’d replied with a simple but friendly, “Got it! Looking forward to working with you, Y/N-ssi :)”. The initial exchange felt formal, almost anticlimactic, leaving you wondering if that would be the extent of your direct communication outside of rehearsals.

However, as the intense rehearsal schedule for the Golden Disc Awards kicked into high gear, the need for direct communication occasionally and organically arose. A last-minute change in the choreography blocking that affected your stage positioning, a question from San about the specific tone you were aiming for during the instrumental break, a quick confirmation needed on shared wardrobe elements to ensure visual harmony on stage.

These exchanges were usually brief and strictly professional, yet each notification that popped up on your screen displaying San’s name still elicited a subtle, almost involuntary quickening of your pulse, a tiny flutter of anticipation that you tried to suppress.

Then came the night after a particularly grueling full dress rehearsal that had stretched late into the evening. You were finally back in the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the distant hum of the city lights painting faint, blurry streaks across your ceiling.

Your body ached in places you didn’t even know existed, your mind still buzzing with the complex choreography, the intricate vocal harmonies you shared with San, and the soaring melody of the collaboration song that had been looping in your head for hours. You’d changed into comfortable pajamas and were mindlessly scrolling through social media on your phone, a familiar and usually effective way to unwind before sleep claimed you, when your phone vibrated with a new message.

The contact name displayed brightly on your screen read “San (Ateez) 🎤.” Your thumb hovered over the notification for a long moment, a strange and unfamiliar mix of anticipation, nervousness, and a touch of something akin to excitement swirling within you. It was late; you hadn’t expected to hear from him.

San (1:03 am): Were you nervous that night? At the Gayo. You didn’t look it at all. Like you owned that stage from the moment you stepped on it.

A small, genuine smile touched your lips. He was thinking about your debut stage again. It felt like a lifetime ago in the whirlwind of the past few months, yet the memory of the intense spotlight, the roar of the crowd, and the raw, unfiltered energy of your music was still incredibly vivid. You hesitated for a moment before replying, carefully considering your words, unsure of how much vulnerability to reveal.

You (1:04 am): Terrified. Honestly. My palms were sweating so much I thought I might drop Shadow. I just didn’t want to screw up on such a big stage, especially as a relatively new face.

Your reply felt honest, stripped of the cool, composed confidence you consciously projected on stage. You wondered if he’d find it surprising, perhaps even disappointing, that the seemingly fearless guitarist had been battling a storm of nerves underneath.

His response came almost immediately, the speed of it making you smile again.

San (1:04 am): Seriously? You were incredible. You commanded that stage like it was your own. The way you moved, the way you connected with the music… and that guitar solo… still gives me chills every time I watch it. You have such a unique energy.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your chest at his words. It was different from the polite, often generic compliments you usually received from industry colleagues. There was a genuine enthusiasm and a keen observation in his message that felt… real and deeply validating.

San (1:05 am): Next time you’re on a big stage like that, I’m cheering for you from the front row. Promise. I’ll even bring a giant banner with your name on it!! :}

Your heart did a little unexpected flutter at that playful promise. A promise from Choi San, delivered in the quiet intimacy of a late-night text message. You typed out a simple “Thank you :]” but deleted it, feeling it was far too inadequate to express the warmth that was blossoming within you.

You (1:06 am): That means a lot, San-ssi. Really. It’s… reassuring to hear that.

The late-night texts slowly but surely became a more regular, almost anticipated occurrence. They were often initiated by San, usually after both of your demanding schedules had finally wound down for the day, when the rest of the bustling idol world seemed to have finally fallen silent.

They talked about everything and nothing – the unique pressures and unexpected joys of being an idol, their individual musical tastes and surprising shared interests in obscure indie artists, funny and sometimes slightly embarrassing anecdotes from their respective days.

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to these digital exchanges, the quiet intimacy of sharing your thoughts and feelings with someone who seemed to genuinely understand the unique and often isolating pressures you faced in the industry.

San was surprisingly easy to talk to, his digital persona mirroring the warm and playful energy he exuded in person, but with an added layer of thoughtful curiosity. His texts were often punctuated with a liberal use of playful emojis and genuine, insightful questions.

He’d delve into your songwriting process, asking about your lyrical inspirations and the emotions you aimed to convey through your music. He even remembered the name of your guitar, Shadow, and would occasionally ask about it, curious about its history and your connection to it.

You found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t with many others in the industry, the relative anonymity and unspoken understanding of the late-night messages creating a safe and comfortable space for vulnerability.

One particularly hectic afternoon, in the midst of a chaotic day of back-to-back schedules that included a radio interview and a photoshoot, your phone buzzed with a picture message from San. Your initial thought was that it was probably another funny meme his members had sent him.

But when you opened it, your breath hitched slightly. It was a selfie of him, looking slightly tired but grinning broadly, his dark hair a little tousled, holding up a piece of slightly crumpled white paper. Scrawled on it in playful, slightly uneven lettering, adorned with a few charmingly crooked doodles, were the words: “Team Y/N”. He’d even drawn a little stick figure playing a guitar next to your name, its shape endearingly lopsided.

A genuine, unguarded smile bloomed on your face, chasing away some of the day’s accumulated stress. You quickly saved the picture to a private album in your gallery, tucking it away amongst your personal photos, a secret little treasure.

Every now and then, when the relentless pressures of the industry felt particularly overwhelming or isolating, you’d find yourself subconsciously scrolling through your gallery and stumbling upon that silly, heartfelt selfie, and a wave of unexpected warmth and quiet support would wash over you, a tangible reminder of the connection you were slowly building. The late-night whispers in the digital darkness were undeniably weaving a delicate but strengthening thread of something special and undeniably personal between you and Choi San.

The Golden Disc Awards ceremony was a blur of flashing lights, roaring applause, and the nervous energy that permeated every corner of the massive venue. Your collaboration stage with Ateez had been a resounding success.

The ballad, initially a gentle blend of your vocals and San’s, had built in intensity, culminating in the powerful instrumental break where your guitar solo intertwined seamlessly with Ateez’s dynamic performance. The crowd had been captivated, a sea of glowing lightsticks swaying in unison.

Backstage, the atmosphere was electric with post-performance adrenaline. You exchanged exhausted but exhilarated smiles with the Ateez members, a sense of shared accomplishment hanging in the air. San’s eyes had met yours a few times amidst the congratulatory chaos, a soft, knowing smile passing between you that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

As the evening progressed, and the awards ceremony moved onto other performances and announcements, the opportunity for a private moment felt increasingly elusive. Yet, a silent understanding seemed to exist between you and San, a shared desire to acknowledge the unspoken feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface of rehearsals and late-night texts.

Finally, during a brief intermission, amidst the flurry of idols heading to the refreshment areas or making quick phone calls, San caught your eye from across the bustling backstage corridor. He offered a subtle nod towards a less-trafficked hallway leading towards the emergency exits, a silent invitation.

Your heart skipped a beat. You made a quick excuse to your manager about needing some fresh air and followed him, your steps light with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement.

The hallway was dimly lit and blessedly quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos you’d just escaped. San was leaning against the cool wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his stylish stage jacket. He looked up as you approached, his usual playful energy replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the unspoken tension thick in the air. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, your gaze fixed on the patterned carpet.

“That was… incredible,” you murmured, breaking the silence, the adrenaline of the performance still coursing through you. “Thank you for… for everything during rehearsals. It was amazing working with you all.”

San pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer. His gaze was intense, focused solely on you. “The pleasure was all ours, Y/N-ah. Your playing… it added a whole other dimension to the song.” He paused, then his voice softened. “But you know… tonight… when we were performing…”

You finally lifted your gaze to meet his, a question in your eyes.

You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling both inevitable and terrifying to voice, “You weren’t looking at the audience tonight, San-ssi. Not really. You were looking at me.”

A soft, almost shy smile spread across his face, a smile that reached his eyes and made your heart do that familiar little flip. He took another step closer, closing the remaining distance between you.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and husky, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, I was. And you’re right.” He took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage. “That’s… that’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your hand, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He didn’t take your hand fully, but the light touch was enough.

“From the moment I saw you on that Gayo stage,” he continued, his voice earnest and sincere, “there was something… I don’t know. Something about your passion, your talent… it just… it hit me. Hard.” He chuckled softly, a nervous sound. “And then getting to know you during rehearsals, those late-night texts… it just confirmed what I was already starting to feel.”

He finally met your gaze fully, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. “I… I really like you, [Your Stage Name]-ah. A lot. And I know this is probably crazy, especially with our careers and everything… but I wanted to be honest with you. I want to give this a real shot. If… if you’re okay with it.”

The sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his fingers, the vulnerability in his eyes – it all washed over you, confirming the feelings that had been quietly blossoming in your own heart. The late-night conversations, the stolen glances during rehearsals, the unexpected warmth of his attention – it had all pointed to this moment.

A soft smile bloomed on your own lips, mirroring his. You finally laced your fingers through his, your touch tentative but firm.

“San-ssi,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “I… I like you too. A lot more than I probably should.” You took a deep breath, your gaze locked with his. “I was… I was falling too.”

A wave of relief washed over his face, his grip on your hand tightening gently. The quiet hallway suddenly felt like the only place in the world, the hushed silence amplifying the unspoken emotions that hung between you. In that dimly lit space, amidst the whirlwind of the idol world, a new chapter had quietly begun.

The initial secrecy of your relationship with San was a fragile, precious thing. It thrived in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances across crowded rooms, and the coded language of late-night texts. Small, tangible tokens of affection became your secret communication.

Notes, folded into impossibly small squares, would appear nestled amongst the strings of Shadow, San’s playful handwriting a stark contrast to the serious intent of his sweet messages. Bubble teas, delivered with a knowing smile by a staff member who’d clearly been briefed, were a small, sweet rebellion against the demands of your schedules. You, in turn, would leave little gifts in Ateez’s studio, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that was growing stronger with each passing day.

But the digital world offered no true sanctuary. The leaked photo, blurry and taken from a distance, was enough to shatter the illusion of privacy. Two figures, walking hand-in-hand under the dim glow of a streetlamp – San’s unmistakable silhouette, your smaller frame – were all it took to ignite the internet.

The explosion was immediate and brutal. Comment sections became battlegrounds, initial curiosity quickly morphing into a torrent of negativity. Accusations of using San for fame were rampant, your talent dismissed, your worth questioned. “She’s just a leech!” one comment screamed. “Riding on Ateez’s success!”

The rigid expectations of idol life fueled the fire. “A rookie dating? Unbelievable!” another user fumed. “She should be focused on her career, not boys!” The attacks grew increasingly personal, descending into cruel insults about your appearance and unfounded rumors about your character. “She’s so plain,” one anonymous commenter sneered. “No wonder she has to cling to someone famous.”

Yet, in the face of this online onslaught, your fans stood firm. They defended your talent, your hard work, your right to a private life. “Leave her alone! She’s an amazing artist!” their voices echoed across the digital space. Surprisingly, a significant number of ATINYs joined their ranks, their support for San extending to his personal happiness. “If San is happy, we should be happy for him,” one ATINY wrote, a sentiment that resonated with many.

Despite this unwavering support, the sheer volume of hate was overwhelming. The negativity seeped into the real world. Your company’s social media was flooded with abusive messages. Your manager’s phone rang non-stop with angry calls.

Then came the chilling delivery. A stark white box. Inside, funeral flowers – white chrysanthemums. A typed note, its words a venomous threat, a stark warning to stay away from San.

The sight of those flowers, a tangible manifestation of such intense hatred, sent a cold wave of fear through you. The joy of your new relationship was instantly poisoned.

San, who had been watching the online storm with growing fury, finally snapped when he learned about the funeral flowers. The image of those stark white blooms, the direct threat against you, ignited a protective rage. He couldn't stand by while you were subjected to such vicious malice.

The playful, loving man you were falling for was momentarily consumed by a fierce, unwavering determination to shield you from the darkness that had descended upon you.

The notification popped up on countless screens simultaneously: “ATEEZ San is live.” Within seconds, the number of viewers skyrocketed. Fans, still reeling from the leaked photo and the ensuing chaos, flooded the chat with questions and worried emojis. San’s lives were usually energetic, filled with playful banter and updates on Ateez’s activities. This felt different.

The camera focused on San’s face, his expression uncharacteristically serious, his eyes holding a raw intensity that made viewers instantly fall silent. He was in what looked like a quiet corner of their dorm, the usual playful clutter noticeably absent. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and direct.

“Atinys,” he began, his voice lower than usual, carrying a weight that commanded attention. “And… everyone else who is watching.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the unseen viewers. “Over the past few days, there has been a lot of… speculation and negativity online. Regarding the recent photos that were circulated.”

He didn’t name you directly, but everyone knew who he was talking about. The chat, which had been a torrent of messages moments before, slowed to a crawl, a collective holding of breath.

“I usually try to keep my personal life private,” San continued, his voice firm. “But the level of hate and maliciousness that has been directed towards… someone I care deeply about… it cannot be ignored.”

His jaw tightened. “So, I want to be clear about a few things. Firstly, the hateful comments, the personal attacks, the threats… they have gone too far. My company, KQ Entertainment, is already collecting evidence, and if this does not stop immediately, we will be taking strict legal action against those responsible. This is not a request; it is a warning.”

A hush fell over the internet. The mention of legal action, especially from a company known for its protective stance towards its artists, was a serious deterrent.

San’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Secondly,” he continued, his voice dropping a notch, becoming more personal. “I have seen a lot of unfair accusations being thrown around. Especially towards… her.”

He paused again, taking another deep breath. “So, let me be absolutely clear on this. She did not pursue me. She did not initiate anything. If anyone is to blame for… for us… it is me. I was the one who was captivated from the moment I saw her on stage. I was the one who sought her out. She didn’t confess; I did.”

The impact of his words was palpable. The narrative that had been so viciously constructed online, painting you as an opportunistic rookie, crumbled in an instant.

San’s expression hardened again, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness. “Finally,” he said, his voice ringing with conviction. “The person you are all attacking… she is not some fantasy you have created in your minds. She is not some character in a story. She is a real person. She has feelings, she has dreams, she has worked incredibly hard to get where she is.”

He looked directly into the camera, his gaze unwavering. “And yes,” he stated, his voice firm and resolute, each word carrying weight. “She is mine.”

The internet seemed to hold its breath. The usual rapid-fire commentary in the live chat was replaced by a stunned silence. San’s raw honesty, his direct address of the hate, and his unequivocal declaration had landed like a shockwave.

Slowly, tentatively, the tide began to turn. The sheer force of his statement, coupled with the explicit threat of legal action, had a chilling effect. The most vicious hate comments began to subside, replaced by more cautious and uncertain messages. The fear of facing legal repercussions started to outweigh the anonymity and perceived impunity of online hate.

The narrative had shifted, propelled by San’s unwavering defense of the person he loved. The silence on the internet was heavy, pregnant with the aftermath of his words, and the dawning realization that they had crossed a line they might now have to answer for.

The moment San ended the live stream, the adrenaline that had coursed through him began to recede, leaving behind a raw ache of anxiety. Had he said too much? Had he made things worse for you? The uncertainty gnawed at him as he practically sprinted out of the dorm, his members watching with a mixture of concern and understanding. He didn't offer any explanations, his only focus was getting to you.

The drive to your dorm felt like an eternity. Every red light, every slow-moving car, amplified his fear. He imagined you alone, facing the fallout of the scandal, the weight of the hate, and now, the potential repercussions of his public declaration. He cursed himself for not being there sooner, for not being able to shield you from any of it.

Finally, he reached your building, his heart pounding in his chest. He practically flew up the stairs to your floor, his knuckles rapping urgently against your door. Every second felt like a lifetime.

The door creaked open, and there you stood. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and your face was pale, but the sight of him seemed to bring a flicker of relief. Before either of you could speak, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness. He held you so close he could feel the tremor that ran through your body.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry for all of this.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne a small anchor in the storm of your emotions. Your own voice was muffled against his jacket as you finally spoke.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, San-ah,” you whispered, your words catching on a sob. “You… you didn’t cause this.”

The dam of your carefully held emotions finally broke. Tears streamed down your face, hot and heavy against his shirt. The fear, the anger, the exhaustion of the past few days – it all poured out in a torrent of silent weeping.

He held you tighter, his hand stroking your hair soothingly. He didn’t try to stop your tears; he simply held you, offering a silent reassurance, a solid presence in your moment of vulnerability. He knew words were inadequate. What you needed was comfort, understanding, and the knowledge that you weren't alone.

He held you like that for a long time, until your sobs gradually subsided, leaving behind a quiet hiccuping. He gently pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with a deep tenderness. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you… are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You managed a small, shaky nod. “Just… scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling you back into his embrace. “I know. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He stayed with you that night. You didn’t talk much, the silence filled with a comfortable understanding, a shared exhaustion. He held you close on your small couch, his presence a warm and reassuring weight. Sleep eventually claimed you both, a fragile peace found in each other’s arms amidst the wreckage of the scandal.

The aftermath of San’s live stream was a strange mix of relief and lingering tension. The most vitriolic hate comments online did indeed slow down, replaced by a hesitant uncertainty. The fear of legal action had cast a pall over the most aggressive antis. However, the underlying prejudice and negativity hadn’t vanished entirely.

In the days and weeks that followed, healing became a slow, deliberate process. You leaned on each other, finding strength in your shared experience. San was a constant source of support, his presence a quiet reassurance that helped to soothe your frayed nerves. You talked, tentatively at first, then more openly, sharing your fears and anxieties. He listened without judgment, offering comfort and unwavering support.

Your company, emboldened by San’s public stance and the threat of legal action, stepped up their efforts to protect you, increasing security and actively pursuing legal avenues against the most egregious offenders. The storm hadn't completely passed, but the intensity had lessened, a fragile calm beginning to settle in its wake. The healing had begun, nurtured by the quiet strength of your connection.

Eleven months. The memory of the scandal’s harsh glare had begun to soften around the edges, like a photograph left in the sun. In its place bloomed a quiet resilience, a steadfast focus on the music that truly defined you. The songs you’d poured your heart into during those months of healing, each note and lyric a testament to your journey, were finally seeing the light.

Your new album, a collection of melodies that whispered of romance and longing, resonated with a global audience in a way that surpassed all expectations. The vulnerability and emotions in your voice, the delicate arrangements, the raw honesty of your lyrics – they spoke a universal language of the heart. Fans, who had witnessed the subtle shifts in your music and your demeanor, intuitively understood the quiet inspiration woven into each track.

You watched, a profound sense of gratitude washing over you, as your album soared up international charts, your name now synonymous with a unique blend of idol charm and genuine musical artistry. The label of “rookie guitarist” had faded, replaced by the recognition of a rising star, your music captivating hearts across continents.

Throughout this whirlwind of success, San remained your unwavering anchor, your most enthusiastic supporter. His encouragement was a constant, a quiet strength that buoyed you through every demanding schedule and nerve-wracking performance. He’d be the first to text after a show, his messages a flurry of emojis and heartfelt praise. The Ateez dorm often echoed with your new tracks, his members offering good-natured teases while secretly humming along to the catchy melodies.

And when your solo concerts began, San made sure he was there. He’d often slip into the venue unnoticed, a face in the crowd, his gaze never leaving you as you commanded the stage. From the shadows, his phone would capture fleeting moments – the intense concentration etched on your face during a complex guitar solo, the radiant smile that bloomed when the audience sang your lyrics back to you, the sheer joy that radiated from you as you connected with your fans through your music. His phone gallery became a secret testament to your talent and the pride he felt.

One night, after an electrifying concert in Las Vegas, the energy between you and the roaring audience a tangible force, San felt an overwhelming wave of love and admiration. He wanted the world to know the depth of his feelings, the sheer luck he felt in having you in his life.

Back in his hotel room, the glittering cityscape spread out before him, he scrolled through the candid shots he’d taken that night. He selected a few that truly captured your essence – the focused intensity in your eyes as you played, the pure joy in your laughter as you interacted with the crowd, your silhouette a powerful presence against the vibrant stage lights.

He opened his public Instagram account, his thumb hovering over the share button. He wanted to express his feelings honestly, openly, for all to see. Finally, he typed a caption, his heart laid bare:

“Watching you shine so brightly tonight, Y/N, fills me with a happiness I can barely describe. Your talent is breathtaking, your passion is infectious, and the way you connect with everyone who hears your music is truly magical. I feel incredibly lucky, every single day, to have you in my life. You inspire me endlessly. ❤️🎸”

He attached the soft, candid photos, a public declaration of his love and admiration. The post went live, and the internet responded with an outpouring of warmth and support. Fans, who had long sensed the depth of your connection, were touched by his heartfelt words and the genuine pride that shone through.

The image of the charismatic idol so openly celebrating his partner resonated deeply, solidifying their perception of your relationship as a source of strength and inspiration. The rise of your star was no longer just your own triumph; it was a shared journey, a testament to the enduring power of love that had weathered the storm and now shone brightly for the world to witness.

The relentless pace of idol life often blurred into a continuous cycle of performances, recordings, and travel. But tucked away in the quiet corners of their shared apartment, a haven carved out amidst the chaos, existed a different reality – a space where the bright lights faded and the masks came off.

Tonight was one of those nights. You were curled up on the plush couch, a worn paperback novel open in your lap, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp. San’s oversized hoodie swallowed your small frame, the sleeves pulled down over your hands. Your hair was piled messily on top of your head, secured with a stray hair tie, and your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, your makeup-free skin looking soft and natural. You were completely absorbed in your book, oblivious to the world outside and the adoring gaze fixed upon you.

San, who had been quietly tinkering with some music equipment across the room, paused, his eyes drawn to the picture of domestic bliss you presented. A soft smile touched his lips. He reached for his phone, snapping a quick, candid photo of you, your brow furrowed in concentration as you turned a page.

Without a word, he opened his phone settings and set the photo as his wallpaper, a private reminder of the quiet joy you brought to his life. You remained engrossed in your book, completely unaware of his silent adoration and the new image gracing his phone screen.

A mischievous glint suddenly sparked in San’s eyes. He moved silently towards the couch, a playful grin spreading across his face. In one swift motion, he scooped you up in his arms, lifting you with surprising ease.

“San!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in surprise as you were suddenly airborne. The book tumbled to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

He carried you the few steps to the bedroom, his grin widening with each flustered protest you made. “Operation: Relocate the Bookworm!” he declared in a mock-heroic voice. With a playful grunt, he gently tossed you onto the soft mattress.

You landed with a soft bounce, your glasses askew, your heart hammering in your chest. You stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless. “Oh my god, San, I’m a virgin I don’t think you’ll fit—”

San froze mid-chuckle, his playful expression instantly morphing into one of utter shock. He stood there, a statue of bewildered surprise, his mouth slightly agape, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline.

A beat of stunned silence hung in the air, broken only by your slightly panicked breathing. Then, a slow dawning of realization crossed San’s face, followed by a flicker of something akin to amusement struggling to break through the surprise.

“…I was trying to cuddle?” he finally managed, his voice a hesitant whisper, a bewildered question mark hanging in the air. He even gestured vaguely with his hands, as if demonstrating the concept of a platonic embrace.

Another beat of silence. Your eyes widened further, the color rising in your cheeks as the full implication of your utterly mortifying statement hit you. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

San’s eyebrows shot up even higher. “…Wait,” he said slowly, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of disbelief and dawning understanding. “You’ve never—?” He trailed off, a slow, knowing smile starting to play on his lips.

Your face flushed a deep, uncontrollable crimson. You became a flustered mess of tangled limbs and stammered denials. “NO! I mean… I’m waiting… I—ugh! This is so unbelievably embarrassing! Can we just… can we just forget I said anything?” You buried your face in the pillows, mortified beyond words.

A soft chuckle rumbled in San’s chest, a sound that held genuine amusement but also a surprising tenderness. He gently sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to carefully pull you into his arms. You kept your face hidden, your cheeks burning like twin embers.

“Hey, sunshine,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “It’s okay. Really. There’s absolutely no pressure, no expectations. You take all the time you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He held you close, his arms a comforting and reassuring embrace. He kissed your temple again, a lingering, tender gesture.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips, and a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “But,” he whispered, his voice laced with amusement, “I am definitely teasing you about this forever. You know that, right? Like, for the rest of our lives.”

You groaned into his chest, but a small, reluctant smile finally broke through your embarrassment. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” you mumbled, though the lack of conviction in your voice betrayed you.

“Oh, I would dare,” he said, his chuckle deepening. “In fact, I’m already planning the anniversary celebrations for ‘The Night Sunshine Thought I Wouldn’t Fit.’” He punctuated his words with a playful squeeze.

You swatted playfully at his arm, your face still buried in his chest. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he countered, his voice full of mirth. “Especially the look on your face. Priceless. I should have taken a picture.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I still can? For posterity?” He made a mock attempt to reach for his phone.

You tightened your grip on his hoodie. “Don’t you even think about it, Choi San.”

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Alright, alright. My lips are sealed… for now. But just so you know, the next time we’re cuddling, and you look even remotely tense…” He trailed off suggestively, raising a playful eyebrow.

You playfully punched his arm again, a giggle escaping despite your lingering embarrassment. “You are the worst.”

“The worst… but you love me,” he finished, nuzzling his face into your hair.

You sighed contentedly, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last vestiges of your mortification. “Unfortunately,” you mumbled into his chest.

“See? Admitted it,” he teased triumphantly. “Now, about that book you were reading… maybe we can cuddle and just read?” He emphasized the word “just” with a playful wink that you couldn’t see but could definitely feel in his tone.

You finally lifted your head, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “Maybe,” you said, leaning into him. “But if you even think about bringing up the ‘fitting’ thing again…”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it… for at least five minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laughter bubbling in your chest was a testament to the comfortable, playful love that defined your quiet moments together, even the hilariously awkward ones. In the safe haven of their shared home, amidst the endless teasing and the deep, unwavering affection, their unique and tender story continued to unfold, one laugh, one cuddle, and one mortifyingly iconic misunderstanding at a time.

-- The end <33

654 notes · View notes

anhesacardia · 28 days ago

Text

Forbidden Promises

Chapter 3 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: none for now except that Reader is a mother, called mumma/momma, Hana is six years old, Toji being a warning of his own, small mention of pregnancy, Tojis past being discussed, Sukuna pov!!! Finally, assasination mentions, pregnancy cravings mentions, Uraume pronouns being they/them, Sukuna curses,

Word count: 1.7k

Sukuna swirls the ice around in his glass, beer sloshing against the edges. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the smooth planes of his muscled chest. He would rather be anywhere but stuck in the bars of one of his definitely-not-legal businesses.

The dim lights flickered around him, casting shadows on his cheekbones. Sukuna leans back in the booth, manspreading with a smirk when he sees Toji come over,

“Y’know Uraume heard something real interesting yesterday,”

Sukuna took a swig of his drink as Toji sat down, glaring at him above the rim of the glass. Toji opened his mouth to explain but Sukuna started again,

“They said on a collection that was supposed to take you just three hours, took you five, and then some more,”

Toji poured cheap whiskey into his own glas, setting his arm on the back of the booth seats and taking a long sip,

“The kid wanted something, it’s none of your business Ryomen.”

The taller male’s jaw clenched and he bit his cheek in order not to say something snarky in return,

“Whatever I don’t care about that,”

The pink haired man set the glass down, leaning his forearms on the cheap table that rattled against his weight ,

“I need you to talk to your old boss for me- what’s his name again? That Korean guy,”

Toji raised an eyebrow, setting down his glass after taking a small sip, after all he had to drive back and no way he was getting pulled over for a dui.

“Shiu Kong? Why you got someone you needa kill? I can always do that”

Sukuna scoffed, calling a waiter over for a new bottle of whiskey a pointed glare shot at Toji who finished the previous bottle.

“No more blood on your hands Fushiguro, you swore to your wife, remember? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten her already,”

The fact that Sukuna was his employer and the only one willing to take him after Toji broke down was the only thing stopping him from getting into a bar fight with the man across the table.

“Shut it Sukuna. I’ll send over Shiu’s contact to you.”

Toji glanced off to the side, entertaining himself with how wild Sukuna would go if he were to drop the information about the kid and you, chuckling to himself at the creativity of his own imagination.

A vein throbbed in Sukuna’s forehead at the sound of Tojis breathy laugh, barking at him to get out and to stop wasting his money and time. The raven haired man leaves without a second thought, thanking Sukuna sarcastically for the drinks and swiping the rest of the whiskey off the table before leaving Sukuna alone again.

The men had been friends since high school, meeting each other in an alleyway fight where the Sukuna family’s rivals had picked up a fight with the cursed man. Toji had his back when he stumbled upon the scene after running away from his own household and they had formed a kind of camaraderie.

Though when Toji started his assassin days, Sukuna lost touch with him, calling him only for the every odd job here and there for his more illegal ventures in business. After all, as the heir to the KOC corporation, anything but a clean record would have ruined his chances at inheritance.

And after Toji lost his wife, the CEO immediately offered him a job in the company, helping him pick back the pieces of his life and take care of Megumi. Well Sukuna couldn’t really help it, not with his annoying nephew Yuji who took an immediate liking to the depressing brat Megumi.

The dual haired secretary that Sukuna hired when you both had first started officially dating was always your favourite among all of Sukuna’s employees.

But now standing in front of you with a carefully crafted expression as they failed to hide the shock at seeing the mini-Sukuna, you weren’t so sure if your notions still held true.

They held their hands infront of them, the long sleeves of their clothing covering their hands, you always wondered why Sukuna made an exception for Uraume when everyone else was help to strict standards,

“I take that is Sukuna-sama…I came here when I received report of Fushiguro… to think I’d witness this…”

Uraume’s voice shook slightly, the suprise evident in their voice. Your mind wandered for a second, they were always a good cook and you fought your toughest pregnancy cravings against their cooking.

You let Hana down from your arms, the bakery had been closed today, you wanted to take a break and go to the amusement park which Hana had been whining about.

“Are you going to tell him? Can it wait till later then? I have to go out now.”

You sigh watching Hana hug your knee with a pouty face, pestering you to just leave already. You took a glance at the clock, you had decided going a bit earlier in the morning would mean you would be able to come back before lunch rush where Fumiko would handle the rest but with Uraume’s unexpected visit those plans had been derailed.

Speaking of the devil, they were just standing there’s and observing the pair of you, squinting at Hana.

“I will wait until the end of today.”

With that Uraume left a card, Sukuna’s new number. You froze for a second, pocketing the card trying not to show how much it affected you.

“I’ll see you around Uraume..”

Hana was picked up back into your arms where she rested her head on your shoulder, her small bag straps digging into your arms. You patted Uraume’s shoulder with your free hand, watching them leave and get into the company issued car with a tight set mouth.

Hana patted your back when you finally let out a sigh of relief, smiling at you when you reassured her in return.

“Let’s go okay?”

Making the decision to visit the amusement park in the morning had to be one of the best ones you made. They were barely any people around, just the few parents with their younger children here and there. Hana held your hand as she dragged you around, arrogance seeping from her whenever she beat you at a game, just like her father even though she never even met the man.

Infact you think you were more scared than the five year old in the all ages horror house. She was daring and courageous, you were grateful that those were the traits she inherited from her father and not his foul mouth.

Throughout the day you fiddled with the card in your pocket, Fumiko called and said that she would take care of the rush on her own and that you need not supervise her. You caved in when Hana also gave you her biggest puppy eyes, dragging you to an ice cream stand.

You both sat down on a nearby bench with the ice creams, one hand holding the cone and the other fiddling with the change as you tried to shove it back into your pocket. Unfortunately this was the exact moment when Sukuna’s card fell down, you bit your lip, pondering for a second before picking it back up.

It was a smooth black paper card, ridged at the ends. Sukuna’s name stood out in bold red letters, CEO of KOC put underneath strategically, followed by his business email and phone number. You flipped the card around to find nothing, chuckling to yourself and the you held the card between your fingers.

Sukuna would never design something like this, you knew him far too well to know he wouldn’t spend his precious time on something as useless as a paper card with his information. Your heart still swelled up with pride though, seems like the boy you met in high school had finally been polished into the man he wanted himself to be.

“Do you really want to become CEO Ryo? Or is it something you’re doing because your parents want you to?,”

The question is whispered into the quiet of the night, Sukuna’s arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you rested your head on his chest, playing with the chain on his neck. Sukuna’s breathing was heavy- heavy but comforting in the best possible way. It made you want to curl up into a ball and hide into his chest forever.

“When have I ever done something because someone else wanted me to? Heh. I’m going to fucking rule the stupid corporation.”

A rare crazed grin crossed Sukuna’s face and you poked the ends of his smile with your index, smiling back at him as he chuckled, grabbing your wrist in his palm,

“Don’t test your luck brat,”

You giggled in response, Sukuna would never truly hurt you. Never has since you were kids and he never will, you know that his threats are just empty promises said to protect himself from vulnerability.

“Whatever Ryo, go back to sleep”

Sukuna grumbled, turning to his side and pulling you closer to his chest, one arm propped to rest your head against,

“G’nite to you too,”

He mumbled against your forehead, pressing almost the softest kisses onto your hairline.

Hana had finished her icecream by the time you finished taking a jog down memory lane and you gave up your own to satisfy her insatiable hunger with a smile on your face.

Whatever it takes for your baby girl to be happy. That’s what matters, not Sukuna’s money or fame or whatever fucked up part of the world he was still partaking in.

Sukuna watched people flit in and out of his bar, drinking to himself as women tried to approach him and he shrugged them off without a second though. Years later and you still haunt his life like some kind of cryptid ghost. Fuck Tojis wife had passed away and even that fucker could move on.

His attention was drawn to his phone not a second later, a photo Uraume sent of a woman’s back and a child in her arms that just looked too much like him. He slammed the cup down, almost choking on the cheap whiskey as his grip on the phone tightened.

He’d recognize you even if you were just a blurry figure in the background of someone’s image, oh and to hide this from him? Yeah. Good luck running away from him again.

<-Previous Current Next->

A/n: I really pushed this out last minute cuz I got a comment and that spurred me on heh, as always likes reblogs and comment appreciated!!!

Taglist: @lady-of-blossoms @shokosbunny @after-laughter-come-tears

516 notes · View notes

anonymousicecream · 5 months ago

Text

Prada (Karina x M Reader)

Milan, Italy, September 2024. As a Korean idol, you are popular worldwide, especially after debuting with your group TXT, under Big Hit Entertainment. Tonight’s your first solo event as an idol, after being invited by Prada to their show in Milan.

You calmly sat down as the show progressed, before your attention was diverted after someone tapped your back repeatedly.

“Oh, Karina-ssi!” You greet your junior from a different company, Karina from AESPA.

“Y/n sunbaenim. Nice to meet you.” She offers her hands, which I shook. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Take a seat here, it’s empty.” I offered her the seat next to me, which she kindly accepts.”

The two of you watched together as the show continued, before it eventually ended. You were about to stand up, but your goal was disrupted when Karina held you down. “Wanna take some selcas?” She asked.

“Of course. Whose camera are we using?” You asked her. “Mine.” She said as she grabbed her phone. She gave you her phone, allowing you to manage the angles as she got very close to you, leaning her body against you. It accidentally made you feel her huge tits, through your shoulders, but you shrugged it off, instead focusing on the selcas, as the two of you increased your smiles as you took more pictures.

“Your turn now, do it from your angle.” You told her, and she grabbed her phone, before adjusting it to the right angles. You leaned closer to her, making heart cheeks on her.

“AISHHH WHY DID YOU DO THAT???” Karina jokingly pouts at you after she looks at the results of the pictures. “What do you mean why? It’s cute!” You replied. Karina groaned before she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling her in onto her shoulders as she took more pictures.

“God, we do look like a couple there…” You told her, making her blush a little, before turning her attention towards you. “Y-Yeah. You look even more handsome in person.” She said, analyzing the pictures.

“You’re such a flirt.” You told her, making her smack your arms. “Careful there Karina, don’t flirt too much, we’re in public.” I reminded her.

“So what? Plus, call me Jimin.” She said, “You don’t want dispatch making up rumors of us do you?” You asked her. “I don’t care, plus it looks quite empty now. What’s wrong with having some fun?” She teased. “Careful, don’t tease too much, you might not be able to handle the aftermath.” You told her.

“Let’s see about that.” Karina said, scooting over even closer to you. “At this point, I might just kidnap you to my hotel room, despite the rejections from our agencies.” You told her, making her chuckle, before she asks, “What’s stopping you?”

“The fact that I want to do it right here, right now.” You said. “Nothing’s stopping you boy.” Karina said. I then grab her fingers, interlocking them and guiding her out of the main hall. It took me a few minutes before I noticed the direction of the toilet, which I guided her into. Once inside the toilet, I pushed the doors of each stall, making sure it’s empty before I locked the door, and then guided her into the corner, and largest stall.

“I’m sure you know what to do now.” You said, watching as Karina walks seductively towards you. It didn’t take long before the two of you met lips, allowing you to feel her soft, peach lips. You saw her tiptoe to meet your lips, letting her feel more of your lips. You moved your hands onto her hips, caressing them before you moved even lower, now onto her thighs. Not long after, you felt her legs wrap around yours, before you lifted her up into the air.

“Aaaah!” She shrieked, allowing you to divert your focus on other parts of her body. You start kissing her neck, earning gasps and groans from her, while your hands try to lower her dress straps, successfully doing so, exposing her black bra. “Fuck, I love your big tits.” Karina smirked at your words, before replying, “Want a taste?”

“No, I need your pussy now.” You saw a change in demeanor from her, becoming a bit more shocked. I set her down on the floor before I sat on the toilet seat, lowering my trousers and inviting her onto me. “Come on.” Karina soon followed as she sat on your lap. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I can feel you through your shorts.” Karina’s face blushed a bit, before she maintained her cocky demeanor again, and then asking “What will you do about that?”

You moved my hands under her dress, feeling the sides of her safety shorts, before lowering them. Immediately, you felt her lace panties covering her pussy, coated in her juices. You streaked your fingers all over her panties, feeling the extent of her wetness. At the same time, you felt her hands lower your boxers, exposing your hard, throbbing cock. She starts stroking them, matching the pace of your fingers on her panties. It didn’t take any longer before you decided to set her panties aside and lift her up, aligning her with your cock before you lowered her slowly.

“Mmmmhhhh you’re so wet and tight.” You told her as she lowered herself even more. “I know, and you’re so fucking big.” Karina replies as she lifts herself off your cock. She repeated this a few times, doing it slowly and steadily, adjusting to your size before she wraps her hands around your neck as she increases her pace. You used your hand to play with her body, caressing different parts of her body as her pace increases.

“Fuck, faster baby.” Your groans echo in the mini stall as Karina’s rides get faster.

“You love my tits?” Karina bunched up her tits, showing you her enormous tits. You nodded at her question before you unhook her bra and threw it to the side, exposing her perky nipples. You used your right hand to cup her tit, while using your mouth to suck the other one. You started off by licking her nipples, going up and down on them, matching the pace in which she rode you, before you took control of her, controlling her pace.

“Play with yourself.” You instructed her, earning a nod from her as you now move your hands onto her hips, helping her control her pace. Karina used the time to rub her clit under her dress, helping her increase her stimulation. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter.” You saw a smirk from Karina, before she took over again, riding you even faster now. At the same time, you also felt her juices leaking onto your cock, which got even faster and more intense over time.

“AAAAHHHH FUCKKKKK!!” Karina moans as she lifts herself off your cock, squirting HARD all over your lap. You hugged her intensely, feeling her still rubbing her clit as she squirts continuously all over your lower half of your body. “Fuck, that’s it Jimin-ah.” You whispered to her, whilst caressing her back, helping her come down from her orgasm.

“T-Thanks. You haven’t cum yet?” You shook your head after hearing her question. Karina grins slightly before she gets up and kneeled in front of you, splitting your legs open to put herself in between your legs, and more importantly, in front of your cock.

Karina grabs your cock, hovering her mouth over the cock before she drops a gluck of saliva onto your cock. She stroked it gently, lubing your cock with her saliva before she put your mouth into her cock. You groaned, feeling her warm mouth and soft tongue, licking your cock aggressively. Her pace of licking you soon got faster, making you squirm even more under her method of pleasuring.

“Chill down. You haven’t fucked my tits yet.” Karina’s words shocked you. To her however, it seems like another normal day as she moves your cock onto her cleavage. She then squeezed your cock with her tits, before she started sliding them up and down. “Fuck, that feels so good.” Karina’s pace got even faster, enjoying the reaction you made from her actions.

“F-Fuck I’m close.” You groaned, starting to thrust up onto her tits and mouth, allowing your cock into her mouth again. “I know, paint my tits baby.” Karina said, stopping all of her actions to grab your cock. She slapped your cock on her tits a few times before she started stroking it, gripping it tight and stroking it very fast.

“Cum for me. Cum on me. Paint me. Paint my body. Imagine everyone watching you paint my glorious tits.”

The last sentence was the final straw as she helped you bust, shooting your load all over her tits. Karina continues stroking you as your load busted all over her tits, painting them from her cleavage, and onto each of her tits. After you finished cumming, she helped milked out the last of cum from you, before she stopped. She then sucked her hands, tasting your cum on her fingers. “Mmmm, tasty.” Karina then grabbed her phone and took a selca of her covered in your cum before she sent it to you.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop smut #male reader #kpop imagines #aespa smut #aespa #karina aespa #karina #yu jimin #yu jimin smut #karina x male reader #karina smut

974 notes · View notes

frflyavenue · 9 days ago

Text

Under Your Touch - Chapter 1

Pairing: poly!Ateez x makeup artist!Reader (Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Implied childhood trauma/parental issues

Summary: Down on your luck, you pack up your things and move to Korea on an impulse. With no job and no money, you have no clue what your future could hold—until you’re scouted by two employees from a company you’ve never heard of, KQ Entertainment, looking for a new makeup artist. With the opportunity of a lifetime and the offer to work with a group named Ateez, maybe there’s hope for you after all. But what your future holds may be even more exciting than you expect.

Author’s Note: Hello everybody, and welcome to my new series, Under Your Touch! This is my first fic EVER, so please tell me what you think! I already have so much in store for you guys ;) —Planning to update with a new chapter every Sunday! Leave a note if you want to be added to the taglist for UYT~

Join me on ao3 @frflyavenue <3

WC: 5.1k

Without further ado~

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The chill of the Seoul winter air hits you immediately as you step out of your apartment, sending a chill down your spine as you turn to lock the door. It’s your first winter in Korea, and while you’ve loved the moderate weather of the summer and fall, the winter chill alone is making you reconsider your choice to pack up and live here. Or maybe it would, if you hadn’t finally scored a job.

You smile lightly to yourself at the thought. You moved here 8 months ago, just toward the end of spring, wanting to get far away from your home country to start afresh. On an impulse, you packed up two suitcases, the most you could carry on your own, and booked a flight to Korea. You found a reasonably priced studio apartment during your first night at a hotel in Seoul, and with the small amount of money you had, you signed the lease the next day. It really all happened too fast for your own good. You were panicked—you didn’t really think ahead. For a month you stayed in your apartment with basically no money and no job, desperately studying Korean and looking for jobs. And for a while, your only source of comfort was your art.

You’ve always loved art. You grew up with nothing much to do except go to school, come home, and draw, not the type to stay around your parents too long. You always stayed away from them, in fact. That’s the reason you’re here in the first place. But regardless, drawing got you through it all. It was your first love, the first time you felt that you could forget about everything else and immerse yourself in a different world entirely. And even when your parents and teachers scolded you for doodling on your papers instead of doing your schoolwork, you continued. It was everything to you, why care about school? Not that you were a bad kid—you did everything you possibly could to make your parents and teachers happy. But you drew the line at abandoning your art, no pun intended.

As you got older, that passion carried into makeup. Considering your artistic background, it came as no surprise to you that you had a knack for makeup, and in that month trying your best to survive in Korea, that’s all you did. Makeup, different styles and different techniques, over and over, just to pass the time.

Mastering the Korean idol makeup style was easy. As was mastering pretty much any style, all around the world, you name it. But particularly, maybe because you now live in Korea, you loved the modern Korean idol makeup styles. Truthfully, you knew nothing about Kpop aside from the music you had heard in passing through the streets of Seoul. Your knowledge ended there. But that didn’t stop you from practicing and mastering the makeup, putting your own spin on it based on techniques you had learned from practicing other styles.

Regardless, you weren’t any less surprised when two women approached you during your weekly trip to the grocery store, speaking in rapid Korean and smiling excitedly, pointing to your face. With your limited knowledge of Korean, you managed to pick up a few things: “Your makeup—I like it!” Unsure of what to do, you smiled politely and thanked them, turning to leave. But they quickly shook their heads, stopping you and typing something into a translating app.

‘Are you a makeup artist?’

You shook your head and smiled awkwardly. “No, sorry.” You responded in what you hoped was an understandable Korean accent. They continued typing, seeming more excited now.

‘We work for a K-pop entertainment company called KQ Entertainment. We would like you to train with us and show the company your skills so we could hire you as a makeup artist.’

It seemed too good to be true. You accepted their business cards, typed back to them in whatever app they had that you would give them a call, and went home. It took you a while to confirm that the whole thing wasn’t a scam, but when you did, you were ecstatic. You had just received the opportunity of a lifetime.

The next few months went by fast. You were given what you compared to a scholarship—a free pass to attend a small class on makeup techniques. All for free under their eyes, you learned how to adjust different styles to different face shapes, how to do hair, learned what products to use on different skin types, how to utilize colors to make features pop. You studied Korean and were immersed enough in the language to be able to communicate effectively, which was a plus. You studied color theory, something you knew from experience but were interested to learn technically. And you had fun. So much fun. You didn’t think it could get any better, even if you weren’t getting paid.

But six months later, during an observation from one of the higher ups in the stylist and makeup department, it did get better. They complimented you on your hard work and your abilities, saying that your work was some of the best they had ever seen. And on the spot, they gave you a job offer to work at KQ Entertainment as a personal makeup artist for one of their boy groups, Ateez. It seemed too good to be true. You? Really? You accepted the offer without hesitation, thanking them profusely for their opportunity, and you were sent home. That was two weeks ago. In the meantime, you researched as much as you could about this group, Ateez.

You learned that there are eight members: Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong, Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho, Song Mingi, Choi San, Jung Wooyoung, and Choi Jongho. And all eight of them are possibly the most stunning men you have ever laid our eyes on. The perfect canvases. You were giddy at the thought. Your job description noted that you would be the personal makeup artist for Jung Wooyoung and Choi Jongho, the two youngest members. Jung Wooyoung is an incredible dancer, apparently known to be more energetic and lighthearted in nature. He has the visuals of a black cat, incredibly elegant and colder in appearance, though his personality is anything but. Choi Jongho is the youngest member and the lead singer of the group, and his voice is the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. You silently wished to yourself that you would get to hear him sing in person. He’s visually like a teddy bear, an adorable face with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. But it seems that his style is cool and simple, which you kept in mind.

Over the two weeks waiting for your paperwork to go through and finishing up interviews with their managers, you spent your time practicing. You drew models of their face shapes, testing out different styles on your drawing tablet and getting to know the curves and geometry of their faces while keeping in mind personal style and their group concept. All things considered, you would think that now, as you walk down the street in the freezing cold toward their makeup studio, that you would feel at least a little bit prepared.

False.

You’ve never been more nervous in your life.

While maybe you didn’t fangirl over the members like much of their fan base, this was your first proper job ever. Your Korean is nothing better than understandable at best, and while you’ve practiced with drawings, you’ve never actually done makeup on these two before. So even though what you’re doing today is nothing more than just a consultation with the two, you can’t stop the shaking in your hands, glad that you will be able to blame it on the cold. You need to do well today. Whether or not you really get the job depends on it.

No pressure.

It’s still dark out when you make it to the address the company sent you, an obscure studio in Seoul supposedly nearby to the Ateez dorms but still hidden from the public’s prying eyes. You check your phone. 6:45am. Perfect, 15 minutes early. You go to your contacts, calling Bae Hyerin, the agent you had been working with during this whole process.

“Good morning Hyerin-unnie! I’ve just arrived at the studio.” You call out into the phone, hoping your usually cheery tone overrides the shakiness in your voice.

“Ah, you’re early! One moment, I’ll let you in!” She hangs up, and you smile to yourself. Hyerin has been a lifeline since this whole ordeal began, possibly one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. She’s two years older than you, and even though you haven’t known her long, she’s helped you like an older sister, standing up for you when others undermined your abilities or made snarky comments about your Korean, and always praising you for your hard work. You can’t help but feel some of your nervousness dissipate when she greets you at the door with an excited smile.

“Y/N-ah! Welcome!” She says happily, gently pulling you inside. “It’s freezing out, please come in!”

You obey, familiarly holding her arm while she gives you a brief tour of the studio. There’s a large space inside past the entrance with two spaces—one with a couch, some seating, a small fridge, and a TV, presumably an area for the members to relax or sleep while they wait. But you’re more interested in the other side, a slightly smaller space with clean tile floors and four neat stations, three of which are clearly occupied with various products and tools. The fourth is completely empty, with nothing but the vanity, a chair, one staple hair tools, and a large lit mirror. You nearly drool at the sight. Assuming all goes well, this station would be all yours. Hyerin seems to notice, and she ruffles your hair lovingly with a laugh. She lets you set your large makeup bag on the empty vanity, getting a few things set up before they arrive for their consultation.

You blow hot air onto your freezing hands, relieved to finally have a bit of time to yourself to prepare. Unpacking a few things onto the vanity, you count once again to make sure you haven’t missed anything. Their respective foundations and concealers—check. Clean brushes for each of them—check. Palettes—check. Respective lip products—check. Everything is still unopened.

Phew.

Ater reassuring yourself that, yes, you brought all of their hair products too, you relax a bit, taking a seat on the couch in the other side of the studio. Now there’s nothing to do but wait.

——————

It’s still quiet in the Ateez dorms when Wooyoung begrudgingly wakes up to his alarm. 6:00am. Gross. He sighs and manages to get himself out of bed, cringing as the cold air hits his torso while he desperately searches for a hoodie. He struggles to get it on as he trudges over to find Jongho, knowing the younger member probably snoozed his alarm.

Entering his room, he smiles affectionately at the younger man still laying comfortable in bed, his squishy face pressed against the pillow and his blankets pulled all of way up to his chin. The serene moment is interrupted quickly, however, as Wooyoung climbs onto Jongho’s bed, effectively laying on top of him and wriggling around in an affectionate attempt to wake him up. Jongho groans and turns onto his back, sending Wooyoung rolling of to the other side of the bed. Puffing his lips out in a pout, Wooyoung shakes Jongho’s shoulders in another attempt to wake him up, making him grumble outa string of curses before opening his eyes. “What?” He asks, annoyed.

Wooyoung sighs. “We have to get ready to leave. Another makeup artist consultation.” Jongho reciprocates a sigh. Last month, the makeup artist responsible for taking care of the two men’s hair and makeup quit unexpectedly, leaving the company in a desperate search for somebody to fill the position. Over the last few weeks, Jongho and Wooyoung had to wake up early countless times in order to meet with potential candidates for consultations, the company wanting only the best for their prized members. Unfortunately for the two men, their company is picky. Jongho has lost count of how many artists they’ve consulted with over the last few weeks, and he’s tired of waking up earlier than everybody else everyday just to meet with another candidate that ultimately gets rejected. He has no doubt that today wont be any different.

Wooyoung seems to be thinking the same thing, because he nods sympathetically while he slides off of the younger members bed. “I know. But we have no other choice. Get up and get ready, we have to leave in 45 minutes. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a good candidate soon and we won’t have to do this shit anymore.”

Jongho sighs, but complies, forcing himself awake.

Now showered and clean shaven, the two men meet with their manager outside of the dorms, greeting him and climbing in the back of his car with less than eager expressions.

“Who’s the candidate this time?” Wooyoung asks, not doing much to hide the bitterness in his tone.

Manager-nim buckles up and starts the familiar drive to the makeup studio, looking at the tired men in his rear-view mirror with a sympathetic expression. “It’s somebody new, no experience. She’s foreign, moved here less than a year ago from what I gathered, so she speaks little Korean.”

The two men sigh, tired. Out of respect they say nothing, but their thoughts are clear. Why are we wasting our time doing this again? Manager-nim seems to take notice, and he adds quietly, “Hyerin-ssi recommended her.”

Jongho’s eyebrows raise slightly, though his face is still skeptical. Hyerin is known for being rather harsh when it comes to perfecting makeup—its part of what makes her such a good leader. So if she were to recommend somebody so unqualified to even consult with the members… she must see potential there. Still skeptical, the two opt for saying nothing.

Wooyoung nudges Jongho’s shoulder, waking the poor, tired boy as the car pulls into the lot of the studio. Wooyoung, deciding to be optimistic, smiles as he exits the car, hissing through his teeth at the cold but giggling regardless. No point in making yourself any more miserable, is there? Jongho couldn’t care less about looking towards the bright side of things. He’s tired, cold, and pissed off, and quite frankly he doesn’t want to be here. His face only prolongs Wooyoung’s fit of giggles.

Entering the studio, Bae Hyerin greets the three at the door, taking their coats.

“Good morning! Thank you two for coming in so early.”

Wooyoung nods, less grumpy now that he’s woken up a bit. “Of course! We’re excited~” It isn’t a complete lie, he justifies to himself. Jongho says nothing.

Hyerin isn’t blind to the air of annoyance eminating from the two youngest members, but she decides not to mention it. “I’m excited for you guys to meet her, too! She worked as a student under the studio for a few months, but honestly there wasn’t much we could teach her that she didn’t know already. She’s amazing.”

The two blink, a bit surprised. It’s the first time they’ve ever heard Hyerin speak so highly about anybody. Wooyoung smiles, looking forward to this visit a little more now. “What’s her name?”

Hyerin smiles fondly. “Y/N. She’s foreign, but I’ve had no difficulty communicating with her. She’s really cute, I hope you guys like her. I sincerely want her on our team.”

Wooyoung laughs softly, a bit entertained by how fondly their usually strict coworker is speaking about this new candidate. “Are you sure you don’t just have a crush on her?” He asks teasingly, making Hyerin roll her eyes and playfully smack his shoulder.

”Hush.”

Jongho opens his mouth to speak, but is suddenly interrupted by the sound of a new voice calling out from the doorway.

“Unnie, I’m sorry but is there any water I can- …uhm…” You blink with your wide doe eyes as you meet the gaze of two stunning men standing in the entrance speaking with Hyerin, confused. Hyerin turns around and smiles sweetly at you, walking over and gently pulling you toward the two men. Unable to do anything else, you let her.

“Good timing, Y/N, our members just got here! Wooyoung, Jongho, this is Y/N, the makeup artist you will be consulting with today.”

——————

A bit flustered to be meeting them so unexpectedly, you just blink for a second with your pretty, flustered eyes, before remembering yourself. You bow deeply.

“I’m sorry, you surprised me. My name’s Y/N, I’ll be taking care of you two today.”

Wooyoung giggles softly, finding the whole situation rather endearing, and Jongho can’t help himself as he, too, smiles at the scene. You’re nothing short of adorable, with deer-like features and a welcoming closed-lipped smile. Your hair falls short around your shoulders, fluffy as it frames your face, though it doesn’t appear to be particularly styled. Your face is adorned in a subtle, natural makeup, not appearing to be much more than a simply base, natural eye makeup, and some pretty pink lip gloss, but Jongho notes to himself that it suits your face perfectly. Your outfit is also simple, a cream colored, tight-fit turtleneck sweater tucked into light-wash baggy jeans topped off with a simple brown leather belt. Nothing about your appearance is necessarily astounding, but your girl-nextdoor vibe leaves the two finding themselves admiring how pretty you are.

Nervous as you feel their eyes on you, you instinctively reach to hold Hyerin’s hand, making Wooyoung press his lips tight together in an attempt to suppress his sudden cuteness aggression. Jongho smiles after only a few seconds since your introduction, bowing in return. “Good morning, Y/N, my name is Jongho Choi.” He responds in English. You blush from the cute gesture, giggling in slight surprise. Picking up on it, Wooyoung does the same. “I’m Jung Wooyung. Or… Wooyoung Jung. Nice to meet you!”

You laugh softly, giving the two the opportunity to admire your smile, which they find equally as endearing as the rest of you. “Nice to meet you too. Jongho, Wooyoung.” You nod in each of their directions, making them laugh. You feel Hyerin squeeze your hand happily, and you return the squeeze. “Which of you would like to work with me first? I can give you two some time to relax before we start while I get set up. I know it’s early.” You say politely, this time in Korean. You take your time with each sentence, wanting to pronounce everything correctly.

“Me first!” Wooyoung replies eagerly, interrupting Jongho snaps his head to look at Wooyoung in protest. Wooyoung shut him down quickly, stating simply, “I’m older.”

You laugh lightheartedly, enjoying the scene. “Alright then, Wooyoung-ssi first. I’ll give you a few minutes to eat something and get settled in while I set up, yeah? Just let me know whenever you’re ready.” Both men nod and thank you politely as you turn to leave, silent for a moment.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Wooyoung whispers excitedly, laughing in spite of himself. “She is cute!’

Hyerin laughs. “I know, right?”

——————

You hum to yourself as you get Wooyoung’s makeup ready on the vacant vanity, looking over your drawings one more time for good measure while Wooyoung and Jongho laugh over a small breakfast in the other room. Convincing yourself that you know his daily makeup by heart, you turn to rehearsing different hairstyles in your head, knowing it’s your weak spot. Wooyoung usually uses this mouse… or was it the other one? No, he likes the coconut one, right. And he recently got his hair bleached, so use an extra strength heat protectant for good measure. You jump as Wooyoung suddenly appears behind you, tapping your shoulder with a bottle of water. You wince as your jaw clamps down and you bite the inside of your cheek, but smile as you turn around.

“You okay?” Wooyoung laughs, sorry to have scared you. “Here, you were asking for water earlier.”

“Ah, thank you!” You feel a bit relieved, suddenly remembering how dry your mouth is. “Sorry, I was in my own world for a moment. Ready?”

Wooyoung nods, and you smile up at him, pulling the chair out for him and gesturing for him to take a seat. He obliges, sitting down and letting you drape a light cape over his front to protect his clothes. You pump the chair up a few inches, steeling yourself with a few breaths. God, I’m dramatic. You think, exhaling in slight annoyance at how nervous you are. It’s really not that serious.

“Any specific styles you want for today?” You ask, unable to bear staying alone with your thoughts any longer.

Wooyoung thinks, blinking. “Mmm… cool… sexy style.” He replies with a hint of bravado, making you smile. He lifts his hands, pushing one side of his hair back. ”Maybe half slicked back hair like vintage American TV actors, you know? And for makeup just… simple. Handsome..”

You nod, relieved to know exactly the style he’s referring to. You smile, and, unable to handle feeling awkward, you mock a salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

Wooyoung laughs, his eyes a bit surprised, but he quickly shakes his head through fits of giggles. “No, I’m not the captain! That title is only for Hongjoong-hyung.”

You blink, a bit confused for a moment. Hongjoong. As in Kim Hongjoong, the leader of Ateez? Probably. Thank goodness you did at least a little research. “Ah, your leader is the captain? Apologies.” You reply smoothly, your doe eyes sparkling with humor.

Wooyoung nods, clasping his hands in his lap and smiling with intrigue. “Do you know anything about Ateez?” He asks, watching as you squeeze some sun cream onto the back of your hand.

You laugh awkwardly. “Only what I researched when I found out I would be consulting with you two today.” You admit, gently applying some of the sun cream onto his face with the pad of your ring finger. “Eight handsome members with a pirate concept working hard to bring badass stages all around the world.” You say simply, summing up what you know.

Wooyoung laughs, endeared by your description. “You think we’re handsome?” He finds himself asking, wanting to tease you.

You nod, humming affirmatively without hesitation as you blend the cream on his face. You make brief eye contact and smile cheekily before refocusing on his makeup, making him blush.

Well, that backfired, he thinks, cursing himself internally for his failed attempt at flustering you. “How old are you?” He asks suddenly, almost without thinking.

You smile. “I was born 1999.”

He blinks, suddenly excited. “Oh, we’re the same age! Shall we drop the honorifics?”

You meet eyes with him, equally surprised, before nodding eagerly. “Ah, I would like that.”

Conversation comes easy with Wooyoung from that moment onward, as you introduce yourselves and get more comfortable with joking around. Jongho observes with slight surprise from the lounge portion of the large space, taking note of every laugh and blush from Wooyoung at your occasional remarks. He smirks, capturing a picture of the moment and sending it in the Ateez group chat, wanting to tease his hyung. But as he looks closer at the photo, he gasps slightly, catching a glimpse of his completed makeup while you finish up his hair. It’s nothing special, just what appears to Wooyoung’s normal, daily makeup. But something about the harmony of his features looked different… it was the closest thing to perfection he’d ever seen. He looks up from his phone, squinting to try and see him from across the room as if to confirm what he’s seeing. Unfortunately for him, you turn the chair around almost as soon as he does so, done with Wooyoung’s hair and eagerly showing him the finished look in the mirror.

Wooyoung’s reaction is equally as surprised.

He gasps as he sees the job you’ve done, taken aback as he leans forward to look closer at his makeup. The base is so flawless it may as well be his skin, and he reaches up to poke his cheek as if to make sure it isn’t a filter. His eye makeup is minimal, but the product is placed perfectly to accentuate the sharpness of his eyes rather than change the shape, something makeup artists have done commonly in the past. His lips are done in a perfect color for his skin tone, with gloss placed subtly in places where it can only be seen when the light hits it at certain angles, sculpting his plump lips beautifully. Even his nose, one of his proudest features, is perfectly carved out, again accentuating the feature just enough for it to harmonize with everything else. It’s shocking, frankly.

You knot your hands together, fidgeting nervously. Mistakenly taking his silence for dissatisfaction, you bite the inside of your cheek and shuffle on your feet.] “Ah.. is there anything you would like me to change…?” You ask tentatively, worried you might cry if he doesn’t say something soon. He seems to notice, because he pries his eyes away from the mirror and turns to face you, excitedly grasping your hands.

“No… this is amazing. How did you even do this?” He asks, no sign of his usual teasing smile on his face—only sincere shock.

You blush, suddenly looking away, feeling shy and…relieved. “Ah, really? I’m glad you like it.” You say quietly, hoping he can’t feel the nervous tremble of your hands. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

He lets go, turning back to look at the makeup in the mirror again. “Jongho-yah, come here. Look.”

Jongho stands up, also eager to get a closer look. He gasps in the same way as Wooyoung, gripping Wooyoung’s chin and tilting his head side to side in admiration. “Handsome…”

Wooyoung nods, meeting Jongho’s gaze with wide eyes as he communicates silently what he’s thinking. Jongho’s eyes say the same thing.

You clear your throat nervously, checking the time. “I’m sorry, if you don’t mind, can I get started with Jongho-ssi? We only have 45 minutes before you have to leave to get ready for your next schedule.”

“Ah, sorry.” Wooyoung says, removing his cape and handing it to Jongho while he swaps positions with the younger man. “Go ahead~”

You nod in thanks, and get to work with Jongho, starting the process all over again.

By the time you’ve finished up with his makeup, turning him around to style his hair, he’s already as energetic as Wooyoung, laughing at almost every silly remark you make and rebutting with ease. Wooyoung notices, noting to himself how easily you manage to adjust to different member’s humor. For reasons unbeknownst to him, that thought makes his cheeks feel warm. You speak comfortably as you style his hair, this styling a bit cuter than Wooyoung’s, per Jongho’s request. It doesn’t take long before you’re done with his hair as well, and you gently pat his shoulder before turning the chair around so he can see the final result.

The two men’s reactions are no different this time. Again, his features are balanced perfectly, with lips a perfect shade of pink, super soft nose contour, and puppy eyes accentuated with bits of subtle sparkles Jongho has never worn before, though he can’t help but like them. It’s perfect.

Wooyoung is quick to run over and admire the work as well, unable to close his jaw as he looks it over. “Jongho-yah, I don’t think you’ve ever looked so good.” He says, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You shake your head, laughing. “His bare face is my favorite. Both of you are perfect canvases to work on, seriously. So handsome. All I do is make that handsomeness pop for the cameras.” You explain, wiping excess makeup off your hands with a wet wipe. “But I’m glad you both like it.”

Both of them blush, unable to say anything in response as you excuse yourself to go wash your hands, struggling with just the wipes. Now along, the boys can finally speak in private.

“Hyung…” Jongho says softly, his voice carrying a tone Wooyoung’s maybe heard only once or twice before. “She’s perfect, seriously.”

Wooyoung nods, agreeing with a hushed, but still undeniably excited tone. “And also she’s so-“

“Cute, right?” Hyerin interjects, walking in the room. The two nods unashamedly. Hyerin steps closer, admiring your work on their faces. “Perfect, as usual. To think she was so nervous she would mess up today…” She shakes her head, smiling proudly as you return. You chirp happily at seeing her and rush over, quick to hug her arm.

“You did a good job, Y/N. You managed to make these two sleepy fools look like idols.” She praises sweetly, making Jongho scoff playfully.

You laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Thank you, Unnie. I’m glad you like it.” You turn as you hear the chime of the front door’s bell, presumably their manager re-enter the building to pick the two members up. You let Hyerin go so she can bring them in, and you’re surprised to see a few new faces instead of their manager. Hyerin clears her throat.

“Y/N, these are the people I was telling you about that would observe your work. No need to be nervous, they’re just going to talk with the members for a bit and make some final decisions.” She winks, but your shoulders still tense slightly at her unspoken words.

They’re going to determine whether or not you get the job.

You feel a sudden poke on your hip and look down to see Jongho smiling. You let out a breath at his sweet thumbs up, smiling slightly in return and bowing your head in silent thanks.

“Y/N, why don’t you go ahead and head out for the day? You did well.” Hyerin interjects, her face sympathetic. You nod, quickly moving to clean up the vanity and pack everything back into your compactable makeup bag. You give a quick bow to Wooyoung and Jongho, grinning sweetly before turning around, quick to leave the building.

Wooyoung and Jongho look at each other and smile, silently crossing their fingers while their hair and makeup is being observed.

They like you.

…

Yeah, they like you a lot.

This fic belongs to @frflyavenue and nobody else—please do not steal this work or any other works by this author <3

Chapter 2

194 notes · View notes

chernobog13 · 4 months ago

Text

The South Korean kaiju Yongary, star of Yongary, Monster from the Deep (1967).

#Yongary Monster from the Deep #The Great Monster Yonggary #Yongary #kaiju #South Korean kaiju #suitmation #Keukdong Entertainment Company #Toei

12 notes · View notes

jnginlov · 2 years ago

Text

you’re hongjoong’s bias

when you and your group go on idol radio to promote your latest comeback, you don’t anticipate one of the hosts to be completely enraptured by you

⇀ pairing idol!hongjoong x idol!reader

⇀ genre fluff, idol au

⇀ style one shot

⇀ word count 8.6k

⇀ warnings brief mentions of idol life difficulties, food, hugging, kissing, this is basically all fluff

⇀ reactions from the gc “IM GONNA JUMP OFF A MOVING TRAIN” “Ooohhhhhhh Oh Shit” “You love to torment us with this don’t you”

note this is written completely gender neutral, all of your group members use they/them pronouns and have unisex names so you can imagine any type of group, there’s a mention of makeup but all genders wear makeup in the entertainment industry, also here is a little playlist inspired by the group in this fic if you’re real delulu like me

your group, eclipse, had been enjoying your recent promotional period, your fans, lovingly termed starlight, had been working hard to promote your latest comeback and for once your company had been able to do the same. eclipse wasn’t particularly unknown before, you’d already had your first music show win and been recognized at several korean music award shows, but this was certainly your most successful song and mini album yet. you, as the main dancer and oldest, had particularly enjoyed all of the interest from idols that had asked to do the dance challenge with you for tiktok and instagram. it allowed you to meet a lot of people in the industry who you had admired and wanted to get to know before but didn’t know how to approach. of all the idols you had done the challenge with there was certainly one that stuck out in your mind, kim hongjoong, captain of ateez and dj on idol radio.

your group had gone onto the radio show as part of your promotions, something not unusual for you all as you’d been on an episode when youngjae and young k were the hosts, as well as one with joohoney and hyungwon as djs just over a year ago. this time, however, felt very different. maybe it was the nerves from how much more attention your group was receiving that was making you feel a little fidgety in your seat or maybe it was the fact that one of the djs couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

for the first ten minutes of your time at idol radio you’re scared that there’s something on your face, trying to subtly glance at any reflective surface to parse what could be causing someone to pay so much attention to you.

when yunho and hongjoong both seemed to be completely focused on another one of your members, asking something about the recording process for the album, you try to subtly place a hand on the arm of your group’s leader, nuri, sat right next to you.

as you lean away from the microphone in front of you, your leader turns to you, and you breathe out the word “makeup” in hopes that nuri will find whatever smudge caught hongjoong’s sharp eye.

unfortunately, they only shake their head, eyes darting around your face but returning to your own once they don’t find anything. they squeeze your hand gently with their own before turning back to the interview, a subtle gesture to both comfort you and let you know that they will definitely ask why you were concerned later.

as you retract your hand from nuri’s arm, you turn back to face the center of the table, which was conveniently set up so that your and nuri’s seats were directly opposite hongjoong and yunho’s, respectively. meaning that when you turn back to refocus on the matter at hand you instantly notice how hongjoong nervously looks away from you, suddenly finding the side of his co-hosts face extremely interesting.

“so, your latest mini album is called,” yunho begins, looking at the card in front of him to guarantee he doesn’t mispronounce it, “close orbit. this is the end of the orbit series in your concept right?”

nuri nods eagerly next to you before beginning their usual spiel about the members' roles in the creative direction of your group.

often times you’re deemed as the second in command, filling in the gaps your leader may miss, and therefore you’d like to think that you’re pretty good about turning on professional mode no matter the situation. however, from the corner of your eye you see hongjoong’s gaze flitting between you and nuri every few seconds and his behavior has begun to have you a bit nervous, fidgeting with one of the rings your stylist had given you that morning. you desperately try to pay attention to what nuri is talking about but, with the combination of the fact that you already know everything about what they’re saying and the heat that’s creeping up your neck as you try to push the thoughts of hongjoong’s behavior from your mind, you find your own thoughts wandering to hongjoong and his weird behavior.

yunho calls your name suddenly, once nuri is finished, shifting your attention back to the interview at hand and beginning to talk about your involvement in eclipse, aside from simply being a member of the group.

you try not to flick your gaze over to hongjoong too often, who now seems to find the cards he’s surely read over several times before intensely interesting, as yunho acknowledges your skills as main dancer and notes for the audience how involved you are in your group’s choreographic process, which already has a warmth blooming in your chest as you’re aware he’s the main dancer of his own group and you always find recognition from other group’s dancers to feel extra special, but the warmth is quickly transferred to your cheeks only a moment later.

“it’s kind of funny,” yunho starts and you tilt your head in interest as he peaks over to his co-host, “you’re hongjoong’s bias.”

from the look that takes over hongjoong’s face, a mix of shock and embarrassment, and the way he turns quickly to look at yunho with slight anger, you assume that this fact was supposed to stay secret, although you’re partly thankful that you have a seemingly good explanation for why hongjoong hadn’t been able to look away from you since you stepped into the studio.

you’re sure your own shocked expression comes over your face before you’re schooling it quickly, although you hear your maknae, star, sat right next to you, snickering softly under their hand, and you shoot star a quick side eye that seems to remove the humor from the situation for them.

“uh, thank you,” you say with a bow as low as the table in front of you allows, “it means a lot to hear that from a senior like you. thank you for your support.”

“of course,” hongjoong speaks suddenly, mirroring your bow as much as he can before stuttering out a statement about how you’re “so inspiring” and “light up the stage”. his face is getting redder by the second as he digs himself further into a hole but you can feel that your face is heating to match his own.

yunho seems to sense the way he’s pushed the interview off the rails and interrupts to bring attention back to your group entirely and your comeback.

through the next few minutes of the show, you’re noticeably and uncharacteristically distant as you now find yourself to have almost traded positions with hongjoong, subtly staring at him as much as you can manage without drawing immediate attention from your fans or members.

in opposition, hongjoong had now taken to looking at pretty much anything that wasn’t you after yunho had shared his little secret. unfortunately, maybe fortunately, you found that you can barely tear your gaze from the blue haired man across the table.

you were obviously a fan of ateez, being able to appreciate a lot of aspects about their talents and skills, but you’d never really gotten too much into the members themselves, aside from knowing who was who and what they each did. you found that as an idol yourself it could feel weird to try acting like a normal fan of a group, making you almost hyper aware of your own fans and their habits as you would try to focus on just one video that wasn’t related directly to the group’s music or performance.

this had meant that you had no ateez bias, although you knew a decent amount about the members, but now you’re rethinking your whole ideas of being a fan as an idol.

as you think to yourself, you attempt to rationalize the past few minutes, assuming that yunho was just joking around, trying to make fun of his hyung or maybe meaning something different from what your group’s fans meant when they said they biased you. however, every time you’ve managed to start convincing yourself, you’re just reminded of hongjoong’s reaction in the moment his member had said something.

your spiraling thoughts are only serving to distract you and suddenly, feeling a hand on your shoulder to bring you back to reality, you realize that they had started playing one of the songs from your album, letting you and your members grab snacks and wave to the fans through the window. the member with their hand on your shoulder, one of your best friends in the group, eunjae, looks at you with a mix of worry and bemusement, although you hear the slight smirk they wear in their voice as they ask if you’re okay.

you wave eunjae off before you head over to the window, not feeling particularly hungry, and hope that maybe seeing your fans will help to ground you, just as they always do.

as you’re waving through the window at several people with headbands of your and your member’s names you feel a presence beside you, much larger than any of your members. you turn to find yunho near you, not crowding you but obviously intentionally in your space, most likely to draw your attention without suspicion.

“sorry about that,” he says as you turn to him and he gestures toward the snack cart closer to the corner.

you know what he’s doing, trying to make it seem like you two are just talking about the food so as to not make fans question your interaction and so you follow him to the snack cart as you ask, trying not to show any of the question on your face, “about what?”

“making you uncomfortable,” he supplies. “hongjoong had asked me not to say anything but i didn’t think about the fact that he may have been asking that for your comfort rather than his own” yunho says in barely a whisper and you can see a light blush dusting his cheeks.

you’re thankful that your members had basically switched with you, greeting fans after clearing away from the snacks.

“don’t worry,” you reassure. “i'm not uncomfortable, it was more shocking than anything” you tell him, and as you say it you realize it’s the truth.

as an idol you often have to sacrifice your comfort for others but in this moment you aren’t saying it out of necessity but as the truth, and when you glance behind you at hongjoong, who’s intently avoiding all of your members as he also waves to the atiny that are mixed in with your fans, you feel something sparkle in the pit of your stomach. it’s a pleasant feeling, something reminiscent of admiration but more complex, deeper.

you’re not afraid to admit to yourself that hongjoong is attractive, undeniably handsome and, from everything you’d heard, genuinely nice to those around him. you could admire him as a leader and creative, knowing how much responsibility he had and that he still managed to enjoy what he did, but, with both of you working in the industry, dating could be next to impossible.

in all honesty, you’re not sure the last time you’d even had time to explore any sort of romantic interest in anyone, and maybe you were simply deprived of that experience so your brain was running wild with even the slightest exploration of thought. however your company had no dating ban and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to venture into that side of a normal life.

bringing you back to the present moment, yunho lets out a heavy breath and hands you a random piece of candy off the cart that you accept with a slight bow, convincing everyone that might be watching that you were talking about the snacks the whole time.

soon after your interaction concludes, everyone is quick to gather back around the table, taking your seats as your song fades out in the background. the next segment goes smoothly, yunho and hongjoong leading your group in a little game about how much your members know each other.

throughout the game you can’t help but sneak glances at hongjoong, your mind still working through the thoughts you’d had during the break. he appears to be trying hard to not notice you looking at him, but he manages to slip up occasionally and you try to send him a warm, if not slightly teasing, grin each time your eyes connect.

though your original intention with the gesture wasn’t to fluster the man, you find the way he reacts each time to be endearing, the blush returning to his cheeks and even starting to spread up to his ears. every time your gazes meet you feel that same tingle in your stomach begin to spread up to your chest, his expression each time feeding it, and you start to find a bit of comfort in that sensation as you feel like you’re getting to admire hongjoong who you’d been avoiding at the beginning of the show.

you’re starting to have a bit too much fun with this little game you made for yourself when yunho introduces another one of the songs from your group’s album and it starts to fade in, bringing an end to your antics.

this time, as the break starts, you intentionally take a moment before standing, pretending to stretch in your seat and standing slowly as you see hongjoong moving toward the fans out of the corner of your eye. you, as subtly as you can, move toward the fans and in the general direction of hongjoong, trying to get the opportunity to talk to him since he had been shying away from speaking to you ever since yunho’s little slip up. he seems too distracted by an atiny that’s mouthing something to him through the window to notice how close you manage to get.

once you’re sufficiently within speaking range, but not too close, always careful of fan suspicion when you’re in the presence of other idols, you try to casually greet him with a simple “hi” but you’re unprepared for the way he quickly flips around to face you, looking almost like a deer in headlights.

you’re both a bit stuck, just staring at each other before you hear a very obvious fake cough coming from both yunho and nuri that seems to snap you out of it and you each try to play it off with giggles and laughs, mostly for the camera and fans that had been intently tuned in to the strange interaction between the two of you.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you say as you move toward the window, pretending like it had been your intention the whole time to simply say hi to fans once again.

“oh no, uhm, i’m sorry, i don’t know why i reacted like that,” he answers shakily with a nervous chuckle and turns back to the fans as well.

for a moment you both just wave out at the fans, genuinely finding interest in those that had come to support you. after what you deem to be enough time of interaction you finally speak up.

“i’m not uncomfortable, by the way,” you mention casually, hoping hongjoong understands what you mean.

“oh, really?” he sound’s surprised, and you peak out of the corner of your eye to see that he’s trying to hold back the surprise from showing on his face.

“yeah,” you admit. “i’m actually flattered,” you add, turning to hongjoong with a soft smile before you move to the snack cart.

you miss the way his shoulders seem to visibly relax and the grin that spreads onto his face as you leave. fan’s will chalk it up to the fact that he was relieved to be a further distance from you, hongjoong being know to keep his space from the idols that come on as guests, but yunho is quick to spot that it looks more like the expression his captain wears after a satisfying performance or successful interview.

your break is quick to wrap up after that, this song being shorter than the one they’d played earlier, and you’re all back to your seats. you start to readjust in your seat, getting comfortable for the next portion of the show, until you’re passed a head mic and remember that you’re going to teach, along with another one of your members, insoo, yunho and hongjoong the point choreography from your title track.

you’re excited to be back in your element, almost forgetting everything that had happened with hongjoong as you and your member run through the choreography to demonstrate before you’ll teach the boys.

the choreography is nothing too difficult, as your company is always sure to remind you that easier point choreo is more marketable, but it involves a great deal of interaction between you and your member, them starting the section standing directly in front of you, and you manipulate them until they have to squat in front of you.

yunho is quick to decide that he will do your part, claiming that because you’re both main dancers it makes sense as well as sighting the height difference, although the height difference between you and insoo is almost negligible compared to yunho and hongjoong’s height difference, but hongjoong doesn’t put up a fight, the gaze he’d had on you at the beginning of the schedule returning with a different undertone, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

the choreography wasn’t particularly sexy, your group not one to lean too heavily into those kinds of concepts, but it was certainly powerful and this particular song made you feel confident, considering you got to be center for the point.

you blame hongjoong’s shift on your own perception, but his gaze certainly reignites the buzz in your stomach, now fully formed into butterflies whose wings brush against the inside of your ribs, longing to be released.

you try to shake it off and step into teaching mode, familiar comfort seeping into you as you take on the most usual role for yourself. you quickly teach yunho your part, and as expected he catches on quickly, and insoo tries to demonstrate what hongjoong should do as best they can, although their part is hard to describe as insoo often goes off of your energy and cues.

when he stumbles out of the ending squat to fall on his butt all three of you that are standing are quick to rush over to him but he just chuckles in slight embarrassment before picking himself up and you all laugh together.

“hm what about you try it with him and i can do it with yunho,” insoo suggests quickly, looking like they just thought of the best solution to hongjoong’s learning difficulties.

you’re a little surprised but agree nonetheless as yunho adds that he’s sure his hyung would be fine with that, but once hongjoong is standing right in front of you it’s not so much hongjoong you’re worried about.

you try to back up a bit, trying to give yourself a bit of distance between you two, but are quick to realize that the choreography won’t work if you’re any further apart and so just as you take a step toward the man in front of you he also takes one into you, realizing that you had both started to get too close to the table now behind him.

your hands are quick to come up to his chest before you can fully fall into him and you jump back as quickly as you can, pulling your hands away as though he burned you.

the same look of shock as when you’d come up behind him during the break is present on hongjoong’s face, and he’s glad there are no cameras that face him right now to see it, but all you can pay attention to is the warmth that you had felt on your palms at the contact between you two.

the whole interaction had felt to you like it was minutes long but in reality it was barely a couple seconds, and you’re once again trying to slip back into the dance teacher role as well as you can when you’re so acutely aware of how close hongjoong is to you in this moment. you can just smell the fading cologne he’d applied earlier in the day, a mix of linen and leather that feels like it turns your brain to mush as you try to remember what you were supposed to be doing with him standing in front of you like this in the first place.

his surprise melts to a look of concern as he sees you shake your head, hoping to clear your thoughts as though they were being physically blocked by all your senses screaming hongjoong.

“so you start like this,” you supply quickly, trying to ignore the way hongjoong won’t drop the worried expression from his face.

you need to move quickly, the man in front of you is starting to make you feel dizzy and you aren’t sure your company, or your members, would enjoy you passing out for seemingly no reason while on a live program.

normally when you dance this part, you make full contact with your member but you can’t bring yourself to touch hongjoong completely, partially fearing you won’t want to let go once you do. instead you ghost your hands along the places you might normally drag them and float over the places you might normally grab.

as you move him slowly into the final positioning you’re realizing that it may have been more torturous to avoid touching him then to just give in to your desire to connect with him, every time your skin makes the lightest contact sending a jolt up through your arms and your breath catching in your throat, if for a moment.

“so that’s it,” you nod, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel and hongjoong looks up at you almost expectantly. you’re waiting for him to move, looking back down at him, and you feel his gaze almost peering through you, like he can see every deep breath you’re taking to try to calm your heart, like he knows exactly how you’ve felt for the past few minutes as you tried to teach him the movement, like he knows exactly what he does to you.

it’s kind of funny how you could feel so small compared to a man that you’re currently looking down on but it’s kim hongjoong who’s looking back up at you, in your clouded brain it seems to make sense.

you’re not sure who speaks up but you hear yunho and insoo moving next to you, although the dull ringing in your ears hasn’t fully subsided. you feel yourself, as though in a daze, move away from hongjoong, something you’re not actually sure you even want to do but your body has decided for you.

as insoo reclaims their place in front of you, you’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’d had that entire encounter with hongjoong in front of, not just your friends, but your fans, your managers, and several live cameras. you feel redness creeping up to consume almost your entire face and you’re glad insoo is blocking you. they give you a slight look of concern and you just clear your throat, pushing the thoughts of hongjoong down until they meet the butterflies in the pit of your stomach, taking a breath to urge them to calm down as well.

the rest of idol radio seems to pass in a blur. you’re even more distant than when you were lost in your thoughts earlier, although this time it seems as though your mind is absolutely blank. if you had wanted it to shut up before, now you’re wishing for it to just go, the image of hongjoong squatting in front of you the only thing you can seem to focus on.

you don’t fully come back to your senses until you’re sat in the car that’s set to take you, and your members, back to your dorm, your schedules for the day complete, and although you thought that distance may have aided your situation you were certainly wrong. your mind has taken to replaying the moment you’d shared with him over and over, not sparing a single detail and you feel as though you’re reliving the interaction again as you practically sense the heat radiating from his skin under your fingertips.

“are you, like, good?” star asks, placed once again right next to you. you look at them with what you hope is a convincing smile as you nod gently, before turning back to watch seoul pass in a blur through the window.

that night, you and your members, seven in total, gather to eat the takeout your manager had ordered as congratulations on a good day of promotions and suddenly you feel several pairs of eyes on you.

“what?” you ask, looking between all the members that weren’t currently too focused on their food.

“what was that between you and hongjoong?” insoo asks with a smirk, noddles almost forgotten on their plate.

“what was what?” you ask, trying to will the blush that creeps up your neck away.

insoo rolls their eyes in response, seeing right through your act and very clearly remembering what they had seen when they were stood right in front of you.

“y/n’s crushing on hongjoong,” star sings cheerily before someone’s foot, likely eunjae’s, makes contact with their shin under the table and they hiss.

you scoff at the statement, trying to play dumb to the way all your members were clearly seeing through you. “i do not,” you state indignantly, taking a big bite of your food as you glare at star.

“whatever you say,” star shrugs, a teasing smirk on their face.

luckily the conversation is quick to shift away from you and you’re able to enjoy your meal without any more interrogation.

later that night, as you prepare for bed, you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door and open it to find nuri.

“hey, what’s up?” you ask, noticing they’re already dressed for bed.

“here,” they say, holding a piece of paper out which you take from their hand with some hesitancy.

“thanks?” you state, although it’s more of a question as you wonder what’s on the slip of paper now in your possession.

“hongjoong’s kakao id,” they say with a nod toward the paper and you blush, clearing your throat quickly. “it’s fine to have a crush by the way,” they continue and your face only grows warmer. “i’d just appreciate it if you'd tell me if you end up dating. easier for me to help.”

you don’t say anything as you just nod your head in understanding, closing your door quickly and pressing your face into your hands in embarrassment.

you place the slip onto your desk, glad in moments like these that you got the only solo room, and debate about adding him. i mean, you hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to each other, but what could really be the worst that could happen?

you try not to think about how nuri got his id, wondering if maybe they already knew each other and praying they hadn’t asked him for it just for you today, as you add him on your kakaotalk, tossing around ideas of opening messages. eventually you settle on a simple “hi, this is y/n” and send it quickly before you can overthink.

you don’t expect a reply immediately, noting how late it is, but almost as soon as you lock your phone the screen is lighting up with a message back.

hongjoong: hi

hongjoong: i wasn’t sure you were actually going to text me

hongjoong: i mean i know you told me you weren’t uncomfortable but still

a smile stretches across your lips as you realize hongjoong gave his id to nuri to give to you specifically and you scold yourself for being so out of it that he couldn’t give it to you directly.

you: i meant it when i said i was flattered

you: it’s a huge compliment to be admired by someone like you

you try to err on the side of caution. maybe he just wanted to talk to you about work, music and dance, so you tried not to be too informal, ateez and hongjoong being your senior. although you did try to hint that you were interested past a professional, and even platonic, relationship, but it had certainly been a while since you’d flirted with anyone, outside of fan service.

hongjoong: i wanted to ask you something

you: ask away

hongjoong: we have a new song coming out soon and i wondered if you’d be interested in doing the dance challenge for it

hongjoong: with me

you could feel the butterflies awaken inside of you once more, excited at the prospect of being able to see him again and the fact that he asked you specifically about doing the challenge.

you: i’d love to

you: just text me

with your agreement you both wrap up the conversation, bidding each other good night, and you go to bed with your thoughts full of hongjoong and stomach full of butterflies.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the rest of your own promotional period flies by, successful and rewarding as the support from your fans results in several music show wins and lots of recognition from all over the world. the whole time you try to focus more on work than your recently budding friendship with the leader of ateez, but it’s hard when you find yourself just as excited to end your day and finally be able to message him as you do when you can see your fans or perform. your members have certainly noticed a change in your demeanor, eager to shut yourself in your room to be alone, and some fans have commented about how happy you’ve seemed lately. luckily, your interaction from idol radio is barely recognized, only a few of the usual shippers making theories about your or hongjoong’s behavior that other fans are quick to brush off as a reach.

hongjoong: happy last day of promotions! i hope your schedules go well today

he doesn’t normally text you in the morning but you’d been telling him the night before about it being your last day to promote your comeback and so you check the timestamp on the message to find it was sent around 3am, probably when he managed to actually get to bed considering he’d told you he was working in the studio on ateez’s next comeback.

you shoot him a thank you text back, doubting he’ll see it until he wakes up a little later in the day, and get ready to head out for your schedule.

you were performing on the show again today, a music show that one of hongjoong’s members, yeosang, was an mc on. you didn’t even think much of the fact as you arrived and got ready with your styling team, having interacted with yeosang as an mc during this promotional period already. although as you sat in the hair and makeup chair, ready for the usual routine, a light knock sounded against the door of your dressing room.

after a quick check that everyone was decent, nuri approached the door. you couldn’t see who was on the other side, nuri discussing something with them and bowing as you assume the other person handed them a plastic bag.

you were slightly confused, none of your members or staff having ordered delivery, as nuri closed the door, taking a peek into the plastic bag before heading in your direction.

“here,” they said as they placed the bag onto your lap and you gave them a questioning glance.

“what’s this?”

“from yeosang who said it’s from a friend,” they explain with a wink and you try not to blush at the implication.

nuri walks away without saying anything else and you glance into the bag, seeing a few of the snacks you’d mentioned craving to hongjoong just last night. you push around the items and find a little note, similar to that which had held his id on it, and open it in the bag to avoid suspicion from those around you.

i know how hard it can be to eat during schedules so i hope this can help. good luck today, text me when you win

you try to ignore the way your heart picks up at the thought of him caring this much for you but it’s hard when you know that you’re already so infatuated with him. his confidence in you and your group was also just so heartwarming, something that was certainly making you fall deeper for the man you’d so recently grown attached to.

you munch on the gift as your hair gets styled, a smile unable to leave your face as you debate texting him to thank him. unfortunately you don’t get a chance as you’re thrown into the whirlwind of performing and preparing for a potential encore stage, your group loving to do silly little things for starlight whenever you win.

of course, like most times, hongjoong is right and your group wins for the final time this comeback, celebrating on stage with your fans and members. throughout your encore, your mind drifts to hongjoong, how you can text him and celebrate together.

as soon as all of your members arrive to your dorm, shoes discarded in the entranceway and takeout being served on the table, there’s a sudden ring of the doorbell and half of you freeze. the other half continue on with their tasks as nuri offers to get the door, handing off the serving task to insoo who is more than happy to take responsibility.

“y/n!” nuri calls from the door only a moment later and a few of your members give you a confused look as you shrug and make your way to your leader.

“yeah?” you ask as you approach, turning the corner to see two bouquets, not too large but very beautiful, in nuri’s grasp, the front door closing as you assume the delivery driver leaves.

“this is for you,” nuri says with a grin and you don’t keep the surprise from your features as they hand you the smaller of the two pieces, noting that they are your favorite flowers and spotting the little card in the center.

y/n,

congratulations on your win today. you always look so beautiful when you dance.

hj <3

you don’t try to hide the blush that blooms over your cheeks, your mind hyper focused on the little heart at the end of the message, and turn to nuri.

“what does that one say?” you ask, gesturing to the other bouquet that contains a mix of flowers with your group’s official colors.

nuri turns the bunch to you so that you can read the card.

eclipse,

congratulations on a successful comeback,

ateez

you nod as you turn back to the flowers in your hands, nuri pushing past you to join the other members in the kitchen. you can hear them explain who the flowers are from and mentally thank nuri when they don’t mention your personal bunch.

you manage to sneak the flowers to your room before you head back out to the table for dinner, shooting hongjoong a picture and a quick thank you.

hongjoong: i’m glad you like them

hongjoong: and i meant it, you looked breathtaking today

you suppress your smile as you read his response, trying not to catch the attention of any of your members, but you glance up to see nuri looking at you with a knowing, if not approving, smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’ve been following ateez a little more closely now, their newest comeback, bouncy, releasing just last week and doing amazingly on the charts. you’d been sending hongjoong little things like snacks, coffee, and meals to keep him motivated and show your support and he’d been showing his appreciation by sending you pictures of him eating or just selfies of him during schedules.

you were certain that your relationship was headed in a more romantic direction as you both became more bold in your texts. you’d also begun video calling when you were able, sometimes just doing your own things while you were on a call together.

you were eager to possibly try taking the next step and actually go out on a date but with ateez still in the midst of promotion you understood that hongjoong’s free time was limited. so you left it up to him, not pressuring hongjoong by asking him out or even alluding to wanting to date.

“do you know the challenge or do you want me to teach you?” hongjoong had asked one night when you were on video call.

he’d brought up your promise from months ago to do the challenge and you assured him that you were still interested.

“i mean i sort of know it just from watching it a bunch, but if you want to teach me i’m not opposed,” you said with a cheeky shrug and hongjoong grinned.

“i don’t have to teach you babe,” he says with a light chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine.

that was another thing that had started recently, the pet names. hongjoong had accidentally referred to you as “babe” over text one time, rushing to apologize when you had taken just a second too long to respond, but you assured him that you weren’t upset just trying to be able to actually think again when the name had short circuited your brain.

“fine,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “i want you to teach me,” you admit with a slight wine. “there, happy?”

he chuckles again with a nod and an “okay” before you’re setting up the best day for you to meet at the kq company building, having to end the call soon after so that he can actually get some sleep.

the next few days have you on edge as you anticipate being able to see hongjoong in person for the first time since your appearance on idol radio. you even plan your outfit a day in advance, feeling almost like you’re going on a first date as you ensure your hair and makeup are perfect.

“have fun,” nuri says with a knowing wink as you leave your dorm and you don’t give them your normal embarrassed look, too focused on the excitement of seeing hongjoong.

you arrive at the kq building right on time, a staff member greeting you in the lobby and taking you to the practice room where you’ll be doing the challenge. you’d seen this same room plenty before on video, ateez dance practices being one of the few contents you’d watched before getting to know hongjoong.

“he should be here in a second,” the staff says, glancing at her phone, and you nod with a grin.

“its fine,” you assure. “thank you.”

just as you start to observe the room a little more, looking around and comparing it to your own practice room, the door opens and hongjoong enters.

even though you’d seen him on your screen almost everyday for the past week, nothing can compare to the way he looks in person, especially since he’d changed his look. atiny had been going crazy over his newly silver hair and you were no different, texting him how much you loved it as soon as you found out.

“hi,” he says with a smile as soon as he spots you.

you reach out your hand and repeat his greeting, bowing as you shake hands to imitate a sense of formality in front of the staff member.

you don’t want to let go of his hand but you pull away anyway, taking a step back to put some distance between you two and hoping to calm the urge that bubbles in your chest to take him into your arms.

“so, would you like for me to teach you the challenge?” he asks and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the laugh that builds in your throat at the question, knowing you’d already asked him to teach it to you a few days ago.

“yes please,” you nod and hongjoong gestures so that you can move toward the mirror.

honestly, the choreography is pretty easy to pick up, especially since you’ve watched it so many times already, but you relish in the way hongjoong watches you and decide to just mess around with him a little. it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions you already knew the answer to right?

“so, is it here or out here?” you ask with an innocent quirk of your brow, placing your left hand out, palm flat and moving it back and forth between two positions.

you see hongjoong’s eyes narrow just slightly, as he had clearly seen you get it right the first time, and you know he’s picking up on your little game. his eyes flick to the staff member in the room, noting that she’s on her phone in the corner, looking away, before he takes a step toward you.

instead of just answering your question he reaches around you, keeping his body on your right and wrapping his left arm around your back to grasp your elbow. he moves your arm into the proper place and you feel his other hand place itself on your waist. as you try to focus on anything but the way his fingers press into your skin he leans his head down slightly, enough so that you can feel his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and across your cheek.

his proximity has your heart pounding and you almost hope he can hear it, wanting him to know that what he’s doing is working. you want him to know that this is exactly what you wanted, that you wish this is how close you could have him all the time.

“right here,” he says, barely a whisper, and just as you start to lean into him, longing to be completely consumed by his warmth, he steps away and his presence is replaced by the cool air that blows through the vent above you.

you clear your throat as you try to shake away the lingering warmth his touch left against your skin and slow your heartbeat as you go back to rehearsing the movements, for real this time.

you try to ignore the smirk that paints his face as he watches you practicing, a blush painting your own cheeks that starts to match his the longer he stares.

“okay, i think i got it,” you say after a few more rounds of practice. “what do you want to do for the outro?” you ask. “or do you just want to end it after the ‘fly’?”

you turn to hongjoong who looks around the room in thought.

“we could do the ending pose from moonbeam,” he suggests, referring to the title track you’d been promoting on idol radio, and you’re taken aback for a moment.

you’re not so much shocked that he would suggest something to do with your group but that he would choose that pose specifically. it would normally involve you and eclipse’s main vocalist, gam, standing while everyone else sat around you, leaning on each other. you and gam would be staring just past each other as your right arms were tangled in front of you in a sort of love shot position.

“oh, sure,” you say taking a moment to picture you and hongjoong in that position and your blush darkens. “i guess.”

“we don’t have to,” he says, sensing your hesitation. “we can do something else.”

you shake your head as you reassure him, “no, no, it’s fine.”

hongjoong just nods and you run through the challenge once more, practicing the final pose as well and trying to not let the proximity that the pose forces you into affect your face, of course you have no control over how it affects your heart and mind.

“great,” he says, mostly to himself, before calling over the staff member who directs you where to stand and prepares the shot.

the shooting of the challenge itself goes well, you both switching easily into professional mode even if you can see his eyes watching you through the mirror the whole time. you do a few takes, allowing the company to pick whichever they deem best, before you’re done and thanking hongjoong and the staff member for their time.

“oh,” hongjoong perks up before you can begin to head out. “i got you a thank you gift for doing the challenge but i left it in my studio.” he turns to the staff member and asks, “would you mind going to grab it?”

she nods before making her way out of the room, leaving you and hongjoong alone.

your eyes follow her as she leaves but before you can even turn back to hongjoong he’s pulled you into a hug, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he looks into your eyes.

“hi,” he greets with a chuckle, absolutely beaming as you snake your hands around his shoulders.

you giggle in response, your expression mirroring his own, as you finally get to see him how you wish you had for the entire time you’d been in his presence.

“i’ve been waiting to do this for the last half hour,” he says, practically reading your mind.

“so do you actually have a thank you gift or was that just an excuse?” you ask with a tick of your head to the door where the staff member had disappeared.

he looks almost offended as you ask, a humorous disbelief shining in his eyes. “of course i have a gift,” he says and you can hear a slight whine lacing his tone.

“of course,” you say with a chuckle and a shake of your head.

“i would’ve invited you to lunch but the staff would’ve been suspicious,” he adds, “so this is the next best option.”

“i can feed myself you know,” you joke, truly more than happy to have hongjoong buy you meals.

“not if i can help it,” he insists, wrapping his arms tighter and pulling you closer.

you don’t fight against him, your chests now pressed together as you simply wade in the comfort that surrounds you both.

you debate about leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, wanting to feel the soft skin against your lips, but you don’t. instead you let your cheek fall to his shoulder, resting your head against him and letting the scent of his cologne wash over you.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” hongjoong asks, one of his hands starting to trace along your spine, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“mm,” you hum in thought as you try to remember your schedule. “we have shooting until five and then eunjae wants to watch a new movie,” you say before lifting your head from his shoulder. “why?”

he lets out a breath and his hand comes to a stop on your back, both of his hands gently holding either side of your waist. the smile he gives you seems nervous now, not quite reaching his eyes.

“i wanted to ask if you’d like to get dinner with me tomorrow night,” he explains with a gentle squeeze of your hips. “but if you’re busy we can do it a different night.”

you shake your head quickly, face red and smile as wide as your lips can manage. “eunjae can wait one more day for that movie,” you giggle and watch as his own smile grows.

his hands move from your waist and you start to pull your own arms away when his palms are suddenly on your cheeks, holding your face, and your own hands fly up to cup his. neither of you speak as you glide your hands down to wrap your fingers around his wrist gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his eyes flick between your own.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, trying to see any form of discomfort that might appear on your expression.

“yes,” you respond and before you even finish he’s bringing you into him, lips pressing against your own as softly as he can.

it barely lasts a second before he’s pulling away, his eyes once again searching your own for any hint as to how you’re feeling.

“again?” he asks with a smirk when he notices your lips still puckered and chasing his.

he doesn’t wait for your response this time, diving back into you with an eagerness that challenges your own.

his lips move in sync with yours, one of his hands shifting to the side of your neck and the pads of his fingers pressing into the skin there, sending a shiver down your spine that you're sure he notices by the way you feel him smile against your lips. hongjoong hums gently, the sound vibrating from his own chest to yours and causing you to melt into him further.

you try to pour all of your appreciation for him into the kiss, desperately grasping onto his biceps like he might just vanish at any moment. you hope that he can understand just what you’re trying to tell him, that in this moment, and every moment you’ve shared, he’s made you feel normal. when you were with him, talking to him, you weren’t an idol and neither was he, you were both just you, human and flawed, and in love.

he pulls away after a moment more, placing a few light pecks against your lips before separating completely, and you try to chase his lips again but his hold on your cheek keeps you in place. instead, he presses his forehead against your own, eyes closed as he focuses on steadying his breathing while you flit your gaze around his face, trying to commit each feature to memory.

after what feels like an hour of just existing in the comfortable silence that has engulfed you both, hongjoong pulls away from you, his eyes opening slowly as his hands return to your waist, your own grip on his arms loosening.

“so tomorrow?” he asks, biting his lip before you bring your thumb up to pull the flesh from between his teeth and he places a gentle peck against your finger.

“it’s a date,” you confirm, leaning in to place a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

he smiles and says, “i’ll text you,” before he takes a few steps back, forcing you both to separate and you immediately miss him even though he’s still stood right in front of you.

only a moment later the staff member from earlier is stepping back into the room, carrying a bag of your favorite delivery food and making a beeline to you.

you bow in thanks when she hands it to you before doing the same to hongjoong, showing your formal appreciation for the gesture, and the staff member is offering to guide you out of the building.

you’re quick to bid hongjoong goodbye, worrying that you might never leave him unless you go now, and the staff leads you back out the way you came in.

as soon as you make it back to your dorm you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, a text from hongjoong lighting up the screen.

hj<3: can i officially say i’m dating my bias?

↼ ateez masterlist

note this started as delusional texts in the group chat based on the specific instagram photos in the header and turned into this

tell me your thoughts

3K notes · View notes

aettuddae · 27 days ago

Text

business matter — 143. i choose you and me, religiously.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev

[written chapter]

23:57.

karina found herself running through the people who had attended that party.

end of the year. after a peculiar 2024, full of surprises and new people, of different emotions and discoveries, they were finally just 3 minutes away from a new year. as was customary, people all over the world were throwing parties to celebrate the beginning of 2025 with their family and friends, and for the celebrities in seoul there was also a selection to attend. among the options was the party that rosé from blackpink had organized on the top floor of a luxurious building whose terrace overlooked the center of the city.

the entire korean entertainment elite was there, from top actors to models to members of the biggest bands you could imagine. it was the party among parties. but at first, karina had other plans. she couldn't go back to her family because of work, but she still wanted to spend a quiet night at the apartment with her roommates. and that's what they were going to do,

until she found out that serim would be at rosé's party.

of course, serim would go wherever jennie kim told her to go. serim loved going to parties. she loved being around people, socializing, dancing. karina didn't dislike it when it came to her, but it certainly got her blood boiling with that quality of serim's. she didn't like her to be perceived. that's why when they talked about their plans for the end of the year, serim was hesitant to tell her. it's not that she wanted to hide things from her, she just wanted to avoid the eye rolling and sour comments for a couple more days until she eventually told the blackhaired about her plans.

listen, jimin is not crazy,

she just has serious jealousy issues,

and she's obsessed with jang serim.

when they decided to spend the night at the apartment and welcome the new year quietly and together, the aespa members already knew that the plan hung by a thread. that thread was whatever serim decided to do that night. as soon as jimin told them that jennie was taking jang to the rosé party, giselle was already texting the hostess to get her to put them on the guest list.

serim didn't mind at all. jimin was busy and every second they could spend together was gold to jang. she loved spending time with the younger girl. all night, they had been glued together like gum, drinking, chatting, flirting and dancing to the music. they were so into their own world that none of their friends thought it was weird that they disappeared for an hour and left them to make friends with each other while they had their make out session in a dark, secluded area of the terrace.

but as punishment for abandoning them, as soon as they returned with their companions, aeri, minjeong and yizhuo had forced jimin to go with them to get some air outside. winter was dizzy, while the rest were all sore and tired from dancing. they just wanted to take a break and get some fresh air, and the blackhaired had to accept it even though it was torture for her to be even two centimeters away from serim, who stayed on the dance floor with her friends.

but it was okay, jimin understood that part of forcing her members to follow her to a party when her plans were quite different had its requirements. she patiently stood there chatting with her bandmates and waiting for them to pull themselves together to go back inside, while minjeong downed a bottle of water to regain her five senses.

she was calm until she turned on her phone and saw the time.

23:57.

three minutes to new year's. she began to hurry the others back inside, where rosé's voice could already be heard through a microphone preparing to count down to midnight. they passed through the crowd quietly until they reached where serim was supposed to be with her friends, but no one was there.

23:58.

jimin turned on her phone. "we accompanied jennie to the bathroom." read a text from serim from 5 minutes ago.

the girl told her friends that she was going to look for the oldest and without waiting for an answer, she ran out, pushing through the people and making her way to the bathroom area. she entered the women's one, but there was no one there. they weren't there anymore.

she searched her phone for the woman's contact and called her. she could hear little because of the loudness of the hostess's voice over the speakers and the whispering of the large number of people at the party, but she finally managed to hear that they were on the terrace because they wanted to see the fireworks. when she hung up, she sent a quick message to giselle to tell them to go to the terrace and again, she hurried upstairs.

23:59.

she had to be serim's new year's kiss, she couldn't miss it. the elevator was busy so she took the stairs, which were not easy to climb as she was wearing heels and moving in such a hurry.

10.

everyone started shouting when they heard that the countdown had begun. jimin was on the terrace, but although she searched through the crowd, she couldn't find serim. she kept wandering around the area, her heart pounding and her breathing hectic. she looked worried and upset.

she passed through a large group that was blocking her view and so she appeared at the front, almost at the edge where the wall that kept people from falling was located. as she was spat out from the crowd, she finally spotted the girl's back in the distance and hurried toward her.

she ran towards serim.

she reached where she was and hurriedly touched her waist, signaling her to turn towards her.

serim turned to see who was pinned to her torso, turning in the arms of the younger who was visibly exhausted and trying to catch her breath as she looked up at her smiling. serim slipped her arm over the younger's body to wrap her in her hold and rest her hand on her waist while her other hand was busy with a drink.

"happy new year, baby." she said very close to her face so she could hear her amidst the shouts of congratulations from all around and the sound of fireworks.

"happy new year, my namu." she replied glad that she was able to get there in time to tell her.

jimin lifted her hands that were resting around serim's waist, sliding them up the older girl's body until she was holding her face between her fingers and pulling her close until they could connect their lips in their first kiss of the year under the moonlight in front of the fireworks show in the sky.

"it's the first year we've started together." serim observed as they pulled apart.

"it's the first of many." assured the younger girl as her hand caressed her opposite's cheek. "i thought i wouldn't get here in time to be your first kiss of the year." she stretched her neck slightly to reach up to leave a peck on the opposite's nose. "i'm always running back to you." she smiled sideways, accompanying her flirtatious comment.

"as you should." serim laughed softly and wrinkled her nose playfully to tease her. "come here." she indicated leaning down to kiss her again.

after the arrival of the new year and the end of the fireworks show the party continued, causing most of the people who were on the terrace waiting to see the colorful flames in the sky to start going down to the lower floor to return to the celebration. serim was leaning back against the edge with karina in her arms who had her hands glued to her face caressing and pampering her, so lost in each other and their conversation that they were practically alone on top of the building and that even their friends had returned downstairs.

"you know, yves wished ningie a happy new year." commented the blackhaired causing the older girl to grimace in surprise.

"what can i say." she looked up with mock pride. "she's a gentlewoman." she shrugged jokingly.

"yizhuo can do better." she refuted, shaking her head.

"better than sooyoung? impossible."

"she's a little weird." she furrowed her eyebrows pretending to be worried. "i hope she'll take care of my baby." she closed her eyes in grief.

"she'll take care of her." she assured her. "don't worry." she ran a lock of jimin's hair tucking it behind her ear. "she's a good girl."

"and you?" she looked at her expectantly.

"me?" she pointed her index finger at herself. "i'm awesome."

"no, idiot." she slapped her shoulder in embarrassment. "if you're going to take care of me." she elaborated.

"oh." she mumbled after understanding what she meant. "of course i'll take care of you." she affirmed, then leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"if you cheat on me i'll kill you." she looked into her eyes seriously.

"all right."

"i am serious, jang serim, i will kill you." she reiterated with a dark gaze, swearing every word.

"as if i have eyes for anyone else." she cocked her head to the side with narrowed eyes judging her, incredulous. "i would never hurt you." she promised.

"you better." she pointed her finger at her accusingly.

"either way," jimin turned her head abruptly, looking at her with eyes wide in surprise at the very idea that she might regret what she just promised. "you have to be my girlfriend for me to cheat on you." she raised her hands in the air innocently.

"no, sorry, serim." she pulled away, putting a hand between them, stopping her words. "your love life dies in me." she laughed sourly. "since we said 'i love you' to each other for the first time, you are doomed to me." she warned.

"what do you mean by that?" she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "that you don't feel the need to be my girlfriend?"

"you're already my girlfriend." she copied the action of intertwining her arms over her chest, defiantly.

"no." she contradicted her. "we never established it, so we're not."

"are you saying you're single?" she clenched her fist.

"i'm saying you should ask me to be your girlfriend." she explained. "look." she turned and with her hand pointed toward the city. "we have the best view in seoul, the night is starry." she walked up to the younger girl and put her hands on her waist, trapping her in her arms. "it's new year." she murmured. "you look beautiful." she commented, earning a smile from jimin that came with a roll of her eyes at the compliment. "you love me and i love you." she added.

"and why don't you ask me?"

"no." she broke contact, pulling away and giving her a defensive look. "make amends for your mistakes." she claimed.

jimin sighed. serim was right. after so many months of doing things wrong here was her chance to have what she wanted most in the world, to have serim. the terrace was empty, it was a moment that belonged only to them. the sky was splendid, it was a beautiful night, a cool wind was blowing, but it wasn't cold, and it was a new year.

new year, new beginnings.

jimin smiled sideways, an idea popped into her head, and she approached serim. she took her hands in hers and looked into her eyes. "don't laugh at what i'm going to do." she took a breath of air.

"oh my god, you're going to sing?" the mere thought caused serim to be unable to contain a giggle that escaped her lips.

"namu!" she punched her arm gently, nagging at her.

"sorry, it's just that i imagined you asking me to be your girlfriend while you sing up." she shook her head trying to erase the idea.

"i write you a song and this is how you treat me." she bit her lower lip trying to contain the smitten grimace that was blossoming on her.

when the funny moment dissipated, they both looked seriously into each other's eyes again, to which jimin took the opportunity to clear her throat and catch her breath again to start singing a song.

"cause maybe, baby..." she began softly keeping the tenderness in the way she looked at serim. "i just wanna do you, do you..." she sang in the highest pitched voice. "do you wanna do me? do me?" she moved her shoulders up and down to the rhythm of the song and with her finger pointed at the older one. "underneath the moonlight, the moonlight." she pointed to the sky. "baby, maybe-" the girl sang excitedly, moving more and more with the song.

"stop, stop, stop." she interrupted her in horror. "stop it, dylan." she identified the modern family song she was singing. "i can't believe you ruined it like that." she covered her face in embarrassment.

jimin would have refuted her disappointment, but she was too busy choking on the laughter her own joke had generated, bending over her body trying to catch her breath. serim could only look at her skeptically, unable to understand how she had found it so funny.

"oh my god." the younger girl pulled herself together, straightening up and turning back to face her partner still letting out the occasional laugh. "how does it feel to love such a funny person?"

"i could leave you in this very moment."

"not true." she grabbed her face between her hands and pulled her to her to leave a chaste kiss on her lips. "you love me too much." she reminded as she broke apart. "this time for real." she positioned herself again, taking in puffs of air to calm her fit of laughter.

"no, i don't want to anymore." serim shook her head sideways in denial.

"yes, come on." she struggled to take her hands as the older one pulled them away from her grasp. "come here." she tugged on her grip to pull her into her personal space.

silence reigned again and though serim was unsure as to the direction the moment would take, this time jimin was solemn, focused, she was looking at her like someone looking at a shooting star while making a wish. it was that kind of tenderness, that kind of desire.

"so excuse me forgetting..." she mumbled, she wasn't intoning yet, but rather speaking the lyrics. "but these things i do," she let out shyly. "you see i've forgotten..." she raised her voice so the words could be heard more clearly. "if they're green or they're blue." a little more confidently, she began to sing the sentences. "anyway the thing is, what i really mean..." she released serim's hands to wrap herself around her torso. "yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen..."

now that she was singing decisively, serim had let her guard down and was lost in the way jimin was watching her. she could see in the way she was moving that she was nervous, that she was embarrassed to open up like that, and she appreciated knowing that she was still doing it to express her feelings for her in some way. she wasn't used to being sung to, so she didn't know how to react, but she understood, they were both artists and if there was anything they were in love with apart from each other, it was music. jimin's voice fascinated her, she could listen to it for hours.

"and you can tell everybody..." as the younger one sang, they both swayed to the beat. "this is your song." serim smiled tenderly at that part of the lyrics. "it may be quite simple, but," serim's hands rested on jimin's neck. "now that it's done." jimin raised her touch to the woman's nape to push it to bring their foreheads together. "i hope you don't mind... i hope you don't mind..." she lowered her voice so that if there was anyone else in the place they couldn't hear, only serim. "that i put down in words..."

"how wonderful life is..." serim joined in and now they were singing in unison. "while you're in the world." they finished together.

they both stayed in that intimate position, one against the other, holding themselves and dancing alone on the terrace in the new year for a moment, serim closed her eyes to enjoy the moment and jimin kept them open because she wanted to see her, she always wanted to see her, she wanted to be able to appreciate serim's beauty for the rest of her life.

"elton john?" serim inquired when they both stopped, lifting her eyelids so she could look at her, her forehead still pressed against the opposite one.

"moulin rouge." she corrected. "it's the only musical i know any songs from." she confessed. "and you know..." she put on a confident expression. "my girl likes musicals."

serim scoffed at her attitude. "yeah." she nodded in agreement. "your girl likes musicals."

"my girl?" she repeated. "so you agree to be my girlfriend?"

"you haven't asked me yet."

"jang serim." she called out to her and wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her even closer, their bodies pressed against each other, their faces so close she wanted to kiss her as soon as possible. "will you be my girlfriend?" she asked, her eyes sparkling and her heart beating faster than she would have imagined.

"no."

"what?" she exclaimed offended and abruptly turned away from the oldest. "serim." she watched her as the named laughed frantically at her reaction. "serim, be my girlfriend." she commanded. "serim." she quickly approached her and began to push her arm repeatedly as if asking her to stop teasing. "namu." she herself couldn't hold back her laughter at seeing the contrary so amused, but still she kept hitting her gently to make her stop. "hey." she wanted to grab her arm to pull her closer, but serim wouldn't let her, so they started to struggle. "be my girlfriend." she reiterated exerting force trying to win serim over. "love me." she jumped on the spot anxiously because she couldn't stand the joke the older girl was playing on her. "namu!" she squealed shrilly.

"okay, okay." she raised her arms in the air, thus giving way for jimin to latch on to her waist. "i love you." she assured. "and i do want to be your girlfriend." she wrapped the girl in her grip.

"really?" she raised her eyebrow dubiously.

"really." she affirmed. "from now on i'm all yours."

jimin let out a little squeal of excitement and jumped repeatedly on the spot to then pounce on the older girl and catch her in their first kiss as an official couple.

"puppy!" a shout echoed through serim's apartment after the sound of the door closing.

it could have been just one person, other than that jang recognized the voice instantly, so she rushed out of her room to find her girlfriend in the living. she ran towards her catching her in a tight hug and lifting her slightly off the floor as she held her.

"hi, baby." she leaned forward with her eyes closed waiting patiently for jimin to give her a kiss and shaking her body slightly once she did.

"hello, namu." she replied after kissing her then continuing to fill her face with pecks.

"how are you, my love?" asked serim as she watched the girl arrange her things on the table.

"i'm fine." she answered in a good mood. "happy to see you." she gave her a smile and dropped forward being caught in serim's arms to kiss her lips again. "is sejeong here?" she straightened up and inspected the apartment looking for her girlfriend's roommate.

"no." she denied, rounding the kitchen island to face the younger girl. "she's in her apartment because she's starting the move back in there." she reported.

"is she leaving already?" she inquired arranging the things she had brought with her.

"she's been living here for a while." she recalled. "she thinks i'm better now, so she's leaving."

"that's good." she put her elbows on the table and leaned back on her arms. "i do think you are better too." she agreed. "it makes me happy to see you like this."

serim smiled shyly. she had been eating better, at first it was because of sejeong's help controlling her at meal times, but lately it was of her own free will. she was happier, she had even been smoking a little less and sleeping at reasonable times. jimin stretched her arm across the counter to give her cheek a caress.

"i brought you a present." she announced excitedly.

"presents!" she celebrated.

the younger girl took a bag and put it between both of them, opened it, reached inside and from it pulled out a small plant with heart-shaped leaves, lifted it in the air and showed it proudly, painting a big smile on her face.

"it's a plant!" happily introduced the blackhaired.

"i see!" she said wryly.

"don't you like it?" she pouted and set the plant down on the counter.

"no, love." jimin dropped her shoulders in disappointment. "i love it!" she exclaimed and then picked up the pot to begin to inspect it. her passion for gardening making kicking in instantly, making the girl pry at the soil and the state of the leaves.

"do you really like it?" she received no response and that was exactly what she needed because she understood that her hyperfixation was acting up and that was a sign that she was excited about the gift. "namu." she called out to her softly with a smile.

"what, my love?" she replied without looking up from the gift.

"do you like it?" she leaned over the counter looking at her with enamored eyes.

"it fascinates me." she raised her eyes to finally connect with hers. "i didn't have one of these." she lunged forward to press a kiss to her lips. "thank you."

"it's a hoya kerly." she reported trying to remember the plant's proper name.

"hoya kerrii." she corrected amused, looking at her tenderly at her mistake.

"that." she dropped her head. "i don't know anything about plants." she covered her face in embarrassment.

"my love." she laughed and took her hands to remove them from her face. "you don't need to know about plants just because i like them." she tried to calm her down. "i'll teach you and you'll learn."

"but i wanted to present it well because it has a special meaning." she explained frustrated.

"it's the plant of the heart." she deduced.

"yes." she confirmed. "it represents love and harmony." she added. "i bought it for us.

"really?"

"yes." she nodded. "i want us to take care of it together." she looked at the pot. "let it be like our love sapling." she finished, her cheeks turning red at the confession.

"how corny you are." a smile broke out on her face as she watched her blush. "i love you."

"i love you too."

"and we're going to be very careful with our baby." she pointed to the plant. "for a long time." she walked around the table back to where jimin was. "what shall we name it?" she took her face in her hands.

"i have a name in mind." she admitted. "but it's even cheesier." she hid her face in serim's chest.

"tell me." she encouraged. "we're in love and happy, we have permission to be cheesy." she reassured.

"canada." she announced without removing her face from the security provided by the older.

"how?"

"canada." she repeated, this time speaking to her face.

"why canada?"

"because so!yoon is our favorite artist." she explained, referring to the singer's song.

"i like it." she agreed. "i only want you close to me." she quoted the song's lyrics.

"you're the one for me, half of my body, half of my mind." the younger girl continued.

"canada." she assured.

"she's our love."

"and we're going to take care of it for a long time." guaranteed serim. "together."

"together."

— the end.

[a/n: thanks to everyone who read. this was one hell of a ride and it wouldn't have been possible without all of you. ♡]

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer @vivilvr

197 notes · View notes