#lee woozi

[shuaasumii]

“Baby Sissy”

when bringing your newborn daughter home, you didn’t expect your son to be so delighted by her presence.

PAIRING: dad!woozi x mom!reader

GENRE: so much fluff, parent au

WARNINGS: none :)

TAGS: parent au, softie woozi

A/N: i’m still trying to figure out how to put my return of superman fics together, so it’ll be a while until the actual series is released. but hopefully this will keep you entertained for now! and ofc the pics are from pinterest.

you cooed at the infant in front of you as your car pulled into the driveway of your home. after two long nights at the hospital, you were finally able to bring your sweet newborn home. you and your husband were so obsessed. she was so tiny and so perfect, you couldn’t help but be so in love. but the thing you were looking forward to the most these past few days (besides the birth of your daughter), was the moment where your three year old minjun, would meet his baby sister.

“alright eunsoo, let’s get you inside yeah?” jihoon said, pulling out the baby carrier. he held out his empty hand, gesturing for you to take it. and you did, you held his hand tight as you carefully got out of the car.

you could hear minjun’s eager giggles as he ran towards the door, “mama! hi mama!”

you swooped him into your arms, peppering a suffocating amount of kisses on his cheeky face. “hi my sweet boy, did you miss mommy? i missed you so so so much!”

his laughs faded as he finally focused on what the baby carrier was holding. his eyes flickered back and forth from his father to his new sister. you and woozi had told him about his sister, or “baby sissy” as he calls her, but it seemed like he didn’t realize what was going to happen until now.

“minjun-ah, do you know who this is?” jihoon asked, kneeling down to the three year old’s height. minjun nodded shyly to the question, “baby sissy.”

“would you like to hold eunsoo?” you prayed in your head that minjun would want to hold his sister. he nodded again, this time showing more excitement. seeing that minjun agreed to hold eunsoo, woozi swept him off the ground, giving him some kisses here and there, and settled minjun on the couch.

“hold out your hands baby,” you glanced over at him, still unbuckling eunsoo from her carrier. you stood up and walked over to minjun, who was staring eagerly at the newborn in your arms. you gently placed her into his arms, still cradling her head and her butt so that he wasn’t holding eunsoo entirely by himself. minjun immediately wrapped his arms around his sister, lightly resting his head on hers.

your heart soared at the sight in front of you, woozi as well was admiring the scene. though that peaceful moment was interrupted by eunsoo’s wailing. you hurriedly brought her back to lay on your chest, but minjun stopped you, “it’s okay baby sissy, oppa is here.”

the baby immediately stopped crying, you were completely stunned. you looked to jihoon to see if he had the same reaction, and surely enough he was just as shocked.

“i think she likes me,” minjun giggled, giving little eunsoo a kiss on her forehead.

“yea baby, i think she does.”

[synity]

Hiiii could you please write about either minghao or woozi having a significant other who likes to paint but they have to check up on her regularly too see if she's been taking breaks

Brushstrokes of You

(Lee Jihoon x FemReader)

*slice of life, fluff, gentle drama and soft emotional undertones*

The faint scent of paint and turpentine drifted through the room, mixing with the soft golden light spilling from the window. YN was utterly absorbed, brush in hand, lost in the swirl of colors on her canvas. Her eyes, bright and focused, traced every stroke as if each one carried a piece of her soul.

Woozi stood quietly by the doorway, watching her. There was something beautiful about seeing her like this completely immersed in her art, the world falling away around her. But as the minutes ticked by, his concern grew heavier with each passing moment.

It wasn’t just the long hours she spent painting; it was how she sometimes forgot to eat, forgot to drink water, and worst of all, forgot to rest.

He took a small step closer, clearing his throat softly. “Hey… you’ve been at this for hours. Have you taken a break?”

YN barely blinked, still focused on blending a delicate shade of lavender into the sky she was creating. “I just want to finish this part. It’s almost perfect.”

Woozi smiled gently but his voice held a hint of warning. “Almost perfect won’t matter if you’re exhausted.”

She looked up then, meeting his eyes with a soft smile that was both apologetic and determined. “I know. I’m just… caught up in it. You understand, don’t you?”

He nodded, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder. “I do. But I also know you need to take care of yourself too.”

YN sighed, setting her brush down. “You’re right. Maybe just a quick break.”

Woozi’s eyes softened. “Good. Come on, I’ll make some tea.”

That moment was just one of many in the routine they had developed over the months. Woozi, ever the attentive partner, became her quiet guardian during these marathon painting sessions.

He’d drop by her studio unannounced sometimes, a small smile tugging at his lips when he found her hunched over the canvas with paint smeared on her cheek or tangled in her hair.

“Water,” he’d say simply, holding out a bottle.

“Thank you,” she’d murmur, exhaustion softening her voice.

“Sit down,” he’d insist gently, guiding her away from the canvas. “You need to rest.”

YN always resisted at first, whispering about the colors, the inspiration, the ideas she had yet to capture. But Woozi’s calm presence was steady, like the earth beneath her feet.

“Tell me about what you’re painting,” he’d say, kneeling beside her.

And she would. She’d talk about the emotions she wanted to express, the story behind every brushstroke, how the canvas was her way to breathe when words failed her.

It was during those quiet talks that Woozi saw the depth of her passion, and the fragility beneath it.

One evening, the sky outside turned a deep shade of navy blue, speckled with stars. YN had been painting almost non-stop since morning. The light in her studio flickered as her eyelids drooped, fatigue tugging hard.

Woozi arrived with dinner, placing the container carefully beside her. “You forgot to eat again.”

She looked up, blinking away the weariness. “I’m sorry. I just… didn’t want to stop.”

He pulled out the chair beside her, sitting down. “I know your art means the world to you, but so does your health.”

YN smiled weakly. “Sometimes I feel like if I stop, even for a moment, the magic disappears.”

Woozi reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “The magic’s not in never stopping. It’s in knowing when to rest and come back stronger.”

She looked at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You always know how to ground me.”

“And I always will,” he promised.

But there were days when Woozi’s worry cut deeper.

Like the time YN had stayed up all night, her eyes red and swollen, barely touching her food or water. He found her asleep on the floor, brush still in hand, paint drying on her fingertips.

He carefully lifted her, carrying her to bed with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Let me help carry the weight.”

And she let him. For once, surrendering to the comfort of his arms, letting the exhaustion melt away in the warmth of his embrace.

Their life together was a delicate dance of passion and care.

He never pressured her but gently reminded her to pause.

She never ignored his concerns but trusted him enough to take his hand when the world got overwhelming.

They laughed over spilled paint and broken brushes, shared quiet nights filled with soft music and whispered dreams, and built a sanctuary where love was both the muse and the medicine.

One afternoon, YN was struggling with a stubborn section of her painting, frustration etched on her face. Woozi sat beside her, silent but present.

“Want to take a break?” he asked softly.

“No,” she said stubbornly, “I need to get this right.”

He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny, hand-painted ceramic cat a gift he’d made for her. “Here. For luck.”

YN’s eyes softened as she took it, the weight of love heavier than any pressure.

“Maybe the luck you need is in taking a breath.”

She laughed, setting the brush down. “Okay, one break.”

And they sat together, the sun casting warm patterns on the floor, their hands intertwined.

In every moment whether she was covered in paint or resting in his arms Woozi’s care was unwavering.

Because loving someone as bright and gentle as YN meant more than just admiration. It meant being her anchor when the colors blurred and the world grew too loud.

It meant checking in, over and over, to remind her she was not alone.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. YN stirred slowly, still wrapped in the cocoon of sleep but feeling the gentle weight of Woozi’s arms around her. His breath was steady and calm against her neck.

She blinked open her eyes and found him watching her, his face etched with quiet concern.

“You stayed up all night again,” he murmured.

“I couldn’t stop,” she whispered, tracing the outline of his hand with her fingers.

“You have to stop pushing yourself so hard,” he said softly. “Your art will still be beautiful, even if you rest.”

YN sighed, sitting up slowly. “It’s just—sometimes the ideas don’t wait. They come rushing in, and I have to capture them before they slip away.”

“I know,” Woozi nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But you’re more important than any idea.”

She smiled weakly, leaning into him. “I’m lucky to have you remind me.”

It was a rare sunny day, and Woozi had convinced YN to take a break from her studio.

They wandered through a local park, hand in hand, the world bursting with colors that inspired her even without a brush.

YN stopped to admire a cluster of wildflowers, and Woozi pulled out his phone, snapping a candid photo of her smiling face lit by sunlight.

“You should take more days like this,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“I want to,” she admitted. “But it’s hard to step away.”

He looked at her with quiet determination. “Then I’ll take you out more. We’ll find a balance together.”

YN leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Thank you—for caring so much.”

“Always,” Woozi whispered.

Back in her studio, YN was stuck. The painting wasn’t coming together, and every stroke felt wrong.

Woozi sat nearby, quietly making notes for his next song production, but his eyes kept drifting to her furrowed brow and clenched jaw.

She slammed her brush down, frustration bubbling over.

“It’s not working,” she said bitterly. “Maybe I’m just not good enough.”

Woozi put down his notebook and crossed the room to kneel beside her.

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’re one of the most talented people I know. But even the best need breaks.”

YN looked at him, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared—scared I’ll lose the magic.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “You won’t. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

It was past midnight when Woozi found YN sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by empty cups and crumpled sketches.

He made her a cup of chamomile tea and sat down beside her.

“You should be asleep,” he said softly.

“I can’t,” she admitted. “My mind won’t stop.”

Woozi took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She hesitated, then confessed, “Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough. If my art is enough.”

“You’re more than enough,” Woozi whispered, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. “You’re the person I want beside me—not because of your art, but because of who you are.”

YN’s eyes glistened with tears as she leaned into him.

One rainy afternoon, YN was walking home from the art supply store, balancing bags in her arms. The slippery pavement betrayed her, and she stumbled, twisting her ankle badly.

Woozi was the first on the scene, his heart pounding as he helped her up, worry etched on his face.

“You should’ve called me,” he scolded gently as he helped her home.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, grimacing.

“You’re not a bother,” he said firmly, tending to her ankle with care. “Promise me you’ll ask for help next time.”

YN nodded, touched by his devotion.

Months later, YN was preparing for her first solo exhibition. Woozi helped her set up, carrying canvases and arranging lights.

As the evening unfolded, surrounded by friends and admirers, Woozi stood proudly beside her.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said quietly.

YN smiled, slipping her hand into his. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He kissed her temple, the crowd and noise fading away in that simple gesture.

After a long day, they curled up on the couch, YN resting her head on Woozi’s chest. The soft hum of music filled the room.

“I love these quiet moments,” she whispered.

“Me too,” Woozi said, stroking her hair. “You work so hard. You deserve peace.”

YN smiled sleepily. “With you, I feel safe.”

He tightened his hold, a silent promise to always be her shelter.

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 07 : Lee Jihoon (Woozi) 🍚

Genre: Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Breakdown, Reconciliation, Slow Realization

Warnings: Emotional yelling, miscommunication, insecurities, guilt, self-blame, heavy crying

Summary: To the world, Woozi is the quiet genius; the producer, the perfectionist, the heart of SEVENTEEN’s sound. But that brilliance comes at a cost. The sleepless nights, the endless revisions, the self-inflicted pressure to outdo himself, again and again, bleeds into every part of his life, even the part where he’s supposed to feel safe: with you. One night, when words snap and tears fall, he realizes music isn’t the only thing that needs harmony. And this time, he might have composed the most painful silence of all.

It was nearing 2:00 a.m. when you heard it, the unmistakable slam of a door echoing through the thin walls of the studio.

That wasn’t like him.

Lee Jihoon didn’t slam things. He didn’t raise his voice. He internalized. Drowned himself in arrangements and demo revisions until even time gave up trying to keep track of him. But tonight, something was unraveling.

You stood from the tiny studio couch you’d been quietly curled up on for the past two hours, watching him mix, waiting for a moment to speak, hoping he’d pause long enough to breathe. You carried over the still-warm cup of coffee you'd made for him earlier and cautiously opened the door.

“Jihoon?” you called gently.

He didn’t answer. He was hunched in front of the monitor, fingers clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“Ji…?” you stepped in slowly.

He finally spoke, but not to you— more to the air, to himself. “Why can’t I get this right?”

You placed the cup on the table beside him. “You’ve been working non-stop. Maybe you just need to step away for a bit to clear your head.”

“I can’t,” he said sharply. Then, quieter: “I don’t have time to rest.”

You blinked. “Jihoon, you haven’t eaten since lunch. You’ve barely spoken to me in days. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

He finally turned to face you, and the look in his eyes caught you off guard.

Frustration, yes, but also exhaustion… and something worse: fear.

“Don’t start this again,” he muttered. “Not tonight.”

Your chest tightened. “Start what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between you. “The lectures. The concern. Like I’m a child who doesn’t know his limits.”

Your lips parted in disbelief. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m loving you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he snapped.

Silence...

Pain bloomed in your chest, sharp and fast.

Jihoon realized too late what he’d said. His mouth opened slightly, but no apology came out. Just silence.

You took a step back, eyes stinging. “You didn’t ask me to… But I did. I chose to stay. To wait. To be here. Because I care. And you’re throwing that back in my face?”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. You’ve never had millions of people waiting for your next track. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything you produce is never good enough.”

“I don’t have to be a producer to know when someone is breaking,” you whispered. “You’re not a machine, Jihoon. You’re human. You can’t keep living like this, treating sleep like a privilege and love like a distraction.”

He stood now, face stormy. “So what? are you giving me an ultimatum now? You or the music?”

You shook your head slowly, tears finally slipping free. “No. I would never make you choose between me and the thing you love most. I just… I just wish I was somewhere on the list.”

His expression faltered.

You turned to leave. “I’ll go. Since being here is just getting in your way.”

He didn’t stop you.

Not immediately.

Because Jihoon didn’t know how to fix things that weren’t broken chords or off-beat rhythms. He could mend audio clips and rearrange harmonies, but heartbreak? Human emotion? You?

That scared him more than any production deadline ever could.

3:47 a.m.

The studio was quiet now.

The track sat on the screen, unfinished, unbalanced, and hollow.

Just like him.

The untouched cup of coffee still sat by the console. The one you made with tired hands and a hopeful heart.

He reached for it and finally felt the cold.

His fingers curled around the mug, and he swore he could still feel the warmth of you in it. That’s when the guilt hit him, fast, consuming, brutal.

He left the studio without saving the track.

He didn’t care anymore.

Back at the apartment, he pushed open the door gently, afraid of what he might find. Or worse— what he wouldn’t.

But you were there.

Curled up on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow, your back to him. Small, quiet, still.

“Y/N…” he said, voice hoarse from more than just overuse.

You didn’t answer.

He moved closer, sitting carefully at the foot of the bed.

“I was wrong,” he whispered. “So, so wrong.”

Still, you said nothing. And somehow, that was worse than yelling.

“I took everything out on you when all you did was love me,” he continued, voice shaking. “I let the pressure get so loud that I stopped hearing the most important person in the room.”

You shifted slightly, but didn’t look at him.

“I told you I didn’t ask for your help,” he said softly. “But that wasn’t true. I needed it. I just didn’t know how to say it. I thought… if I let you see how messy I really am, you'd think less of me.”

Finally, your voice came... fragile and raw.

“Do you really think love only survives perfection?”

His head dropped.

“No,” he admitted. “But maybe… I thought I had to deserve you first. Like if I failed, if I cracked even a little… you’d see I wasn’t worth staying for.”

You turned to face him now, eyes swollen and cheeks damp. “I’ve already seen you crack, Jihoon. I stayed. Not because you’re perfect. But because you’re you.”

He closed his eyes tightly. “I said such awful things tonight.”

“You did,” you said honestly. “And they hurt.”

A beat of silence.

“But… I also saw the man behind those words. The one drowning in expectations. The one who forgot that love isn’t supposed to be another performance.”

He reached for your hand, slowly and really carefully, like he was asking permission.

“I want to be better,” he said. “Not just for the fans. Not just for the group. For us. For you.”

You let him take your hand.

“I don’t need perfect tracks,” you said. “I need my Jihoon to come home. Even if he's tired. Even if he’s broken. Just… come home.”

Tears finally slipped from his eyes then.

Real, vulnerable tears.

He pulled you into him, burying his face in your neck like a child seeking shelter. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was just… so lost.”

You stroked his back gently, feeling his shoulders tremble. “I know. But next time, don’t wait until we’re both falling apart.”

He pulled back, cupping your cheek. “Next time, I won’t. Next time, I’ll write us a better ending.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes glassy but steady.

“Or maybe,” you whispered, “we’ll compose one together.”

He smiled through the tears.

For the first time in weeks… he felt like breathing again.

Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv

[mejaemin]

4 and woozi for the event please!!

woozi + surprising them with a new pet

warnings: a lot of humor.. and a lot of commas, fluff !!! also maybe a ppyopuli sneak :p an: uji’s so cute, and such a lovely person :((( i hope this helps everyone come to love him more and treat him better, he deserves the world :/ 1 to 13 mlist !!

you can tell that jihoon’s getting bored. you are too, honestly. your lives have been repetitive, doing the same thing every day, and it’s starting to get dull. yes, you’re happy together, and that will never ever change, but you feel like your lives need some more flavor.. potentially a furry kind?

not in the mold kind of way, obviously, but this need for something new has you finding yourself at the local animal shelter. you expressed to the employee that you weren’t looking for anything in particular, just observing, hoping for someone to call out to you.

there’s so many options to choose from, from cute little puppies to sassy kittens. of course, you have to get a kitten, because it’d be calm enough to not drive you or hoon crazy, but still perfect enough to bring something new to your lives.

eventually you come across the one, a white, tiny ball of fluff calling out to you with tiny little meows. when you bring your finger up to the window of its enclosure, it’s more than happy to come up to you and try to rub against it, head sliding all over the glass. you learn that she’s a girl, and was left unnamed. the cute, peaceful thing just screams perfection, and you can’t help but make the decision to take it home.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔

later that night jihoon comes home, and he expects silence, for you to be asleep. he’s a little confused, however, when he hears you baby talking in the bedroom… to yourself?

he makes his way in and pushes the door open to see you sitting on the bed, hunched over with a little ball of white fuzz. he tilts his head, setting his stuff down to get a closer look.

“what did you do while i was gone?” his tone is accusatory but in a lighthearted way, watching as the furry thing chases after your wiggling fingers.

you look up, a little shocked at his appearance. maybe the kitten’s not the only one who needs a bell.. “oh! i felt like we needed something- someone new in our house, so.. surprise!” you pick the kitty up and turn her around to face him. she’s the cutest, puffy white kitty with a slightly grumpy face, and you almost want to hold her right next to jihoon’s face because they truly look the same.

“oh.” is all he says as he quickly goes to change into sleep clothes before sitting down on the bed with you. you set the cat down and it immediately walks over to him, nuzzling into his outstretched hand when you tell her that’s your dad, “i really shouldn’t leave you alone, should i…”

“you should! see? ppyopuli loves you! you’re like twins!” the name came out on the spot, but she purrs, rolling around on the comforter happily, so you have no choice but to make it official.. also on the spot with no discussion. that seems to be the theme for today.

“hmm, okay, but if i come home to any more siblings, i’ll.. actually, maybe go ahead, but i’d like to at least be consulted.”

1 to 13 🏷️ @markkiatocafe @ateez-atiny380

[thirteenheavens]

Hi! I don't know if you already did it but if not (and if you want to) could you make a "just the tip" with woozi?? Respectfully asking

It’s late || Lee Jihoon x Reader

Word Count:800

Woozi walks through the door, his shoulders slumped and bags under his eyes from a long day of producing. He sighs heavily as he takes off his shoes and jacket, the exhaustion evident in his movements.

"Baby, I'm home," he calls out, trudging towards the bedroom. He opens the door to find you lounging on the bed, dressed in a silk robe that leaves little to the imagination. His tired expression instantly changes to one of desire as he takes in your appearance. "What a sight for sore eyes," he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your body. He sheds his clothes quickly, revealing his toned chest and hardening cock. "I've been thinking about you all day," he says, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you. "I need you."

"You're exhausted, baby," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair. "Maybe we should rest first." Woozi shakes his head, his eyes pleading. "I need to feel you," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "Even if it's just the tip."

He slides the robe off your shoulders, his gaze raking over your naked body. "You're so beautiful," he says, his hands roaming over your curves. "You always know how to take care of me." He positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock barely brushing against your entrance. "Are you ready for me?" he asks, his voice strained with need.

"Yes," you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Take me, Jihoon. Use me to make yourself feel good." Woozi groans at your words, slowly pushing just the tip of his cock inside you. He's barely even penetrating you, but the sensation is still enough to make you both gasp.

"You're so tight," he hisses, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds himself still. "I could come just from this." Woozi can't help but whine as he shallowly thrusts the tip of his cock in and out of you, the feeling of your tightness around him driving him wild.

"Baby, please," he begs, his voice desperate. "Let me go deeper. I need more." You tease him by clenching your muscles around him, making him groan even louder. "Just the tip, remember?" you remind him with a smirk.

He nods, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to control himself. "I know, I know," he pants. "But it feels so good. You're torturing me." Woozi's self-control snaps as he gives in to his need, thrusting deeper into you despite your teasing. He's too exhausted to hold back anymore, and the feeling of your wet heat around him is too tempting.

"You're such a tease," he growls, pinning your hands above your head as he starts to move faster. "You love seeing me lose control, don't you?" You moan in response, arching your back to take him deeper. "I just want to make you feel good," you say breathlessly. "I love seeing you like this."

Woozi kisses you deeply, his tongue mimicking the way his cock is moving inside you. He's close already, his hips moving with increasing urgency as he chases his release. Woozi's thrusts become erratic as he loses himself in the moment, his body tensing up as his orgasm approaches.

"I'm going to come," he gasps out, burying his face in your neck. "You feel so fucking good." He bites down on your shoulder as he spills himself inside you, his cock twitching with each spurt of cum. His body goes limp on top of you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

"That was... wow," he mumbles against your skin, still half-dazed from his intense orgasm. "You always know how to push my buttons."

"You needed that," you say softly, running your fingers through his sweaty hair. "And now you can rest properly." Woozi hums in agreement, nuzzling against your neck. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You always take such good care of me."

He shifts slightly, still inside you, and lets out a content sigh. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?" he asks, sounding like a child who doesn't want to leave their favorite toy. You smile and wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he relaxes against you. "Of course we can," you whisper, kissing the top of his head.

Woozi drifts off to sleep almost instantly, his breathing slow and steady as he finds comfort in your embrace. You stay there for a while, feeling his heartbeat against your chest and enjoying the peaceful moment. As you watch him sleep, you can't help but feel grateful for moments like these - moments where you can take care of him and provide him with the love and comfort he needs after a long day.

[jjjjeonww]

random texts w ljh!

genre - fluff! warnings - suggestive. (mdni.)

[sweetiesicheng]

woozi - designer

word count : 586

-

you stop in front of a building and take your headphones off. "huh, it's been awhile since i've been here," you say to yourself. 

you pull the door open and walk inside the building. you start walking through the showroom. 

"excuse me, can i help you with anything?" an associate asks, coming up to you. 

"oh, i'm looking for jihoon," you reply. "is he in the back?" you ask. 

"no, i'm not here."

you turn your head and see jihoon walking with a gown on hand. he gently gestures for the associate to walk away. 

"are you with a client?" you ask him. 

he shakes his head, "no, i was pulling this out for the display. it's one of yours." 

"oh, is it?" jihoon shows the gown to you unzipping the garment bag so you can get a better look at it. "huh, it's been awhile since i've seen this one. isn't it from last season?" you ask, trying to remember.

"yea, but people still love it. it's one of our top sellers," he mentions. "why did you come by?"

you shrug, "i was bored."

"so you missed me?”

“hey…i just walked by,” you reply, “and i missed you…”

jihoon chuckles and kisses your cheek, "if you're staying here, wanna try on something?"

"i already have a wedding dress, remember?" you say to him, "two actually since i wanted a different one for the reception."

"just for fun. let me show you some of the new ones we got this week. you'd look cute in them," he says and takes your hand. "hey, put this out for me," he says to an associate, who takes the wedding gown that he had been carrying.

jihoon takes you to a changing room before leaving you by yourself. after a few minutes, he returns with some wedding dresses. 

"these are the samples for the new collection," jihoon mentions, "and someone needs to try them on."

"ah, so you chose your co-designer to model. i see," you reply and start taking some of your clothes off while jihoon takes the wedding dresses out of their garment bags. 

"i chose my wife," he says and helps you into the first dress. he zips the zipper for you while you fix the shoulder areas, moving the fabric off of your shoulders. "i think they added more lace up here," he says while staring at you through the mirror. 

"i think they used a different one, so that might be why," you reply and turn a bit to see the back of the dress through the mirror. jihoon adjusts the bottom of the dress, making sure all of the fabric is laying smoothly. "this one looks good, but this seam is pretty visible," you mention, pointing out one of the areas. 

"it looks really good on you," jihoon compliments you. he picks up a veil that is with one of the other dresses and places it on top of your head. "is it too early to get our vows renewed?" he asks. 

"getting our vows renewed already? it sounds like you just want an excuse to see me in a wedding dress," you say to him. 

"you look gorgeous, i can't help it," he says to you.

"well, one of the designers of this dress is really good at his job," you say. you watch him smile as he fixes some folds in the dress. 

"the other designer is really good at her job too, designing and modeling," he says and kisses you.

[fluffiematcha]

COOKING LOVE(R) [ drabble ]

jihoon × fem. reader || fluff, slice of life family au, pregnancy au. || 635 words. || warning : mention of food

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. jihoon loves cooking for you.

“How is it?”

“It’s so so good! the richness of the taste, the spices which combine perfectly and...” jihoon smiles proudly but tenderly seeing you eat with such enthusiasm.

Cooking for you was quite difficult during the early stages of your pregnancy. The smell was either too strong for your smell sense or you had no appetite at all due to morning sickness.

But that was before. cooking meals for you is now his favorite hobby, even if sometimes your ideas are a little crazy. Seeing you happily ramble while you eat about how good the foods are pleases him. Seeing your cute smile and hearing the noises you make brings him an inexplicable amount of joy.

Jihoon starts doing the dishes and cleaning the worktop and counter while you finish your plate.

“Do you think it will be a girl or a boy?” you ask out of nowhere.

“I don’t know. but does that matter? The important thing is that the baby is born healthy.”

“I was just asking.” he can hear you chewing loudly, a sign that you are eating well.

It was difficult to see you without an appetite and without the happy glow that adorned your eyes. Jihoon can now sleep peacefully, no longer having to worry if you and the baby are eating properly.

“If you really want to know, we can always do the ultrasound.”

Once the dishes are finished, he wipes his hands with a cloth and then turns around to face you.

“No need, i can wait until i give birth.”

You decided to keep the baby’s gender a surprise to discover since it doesn’t matter. Whether it’s a boy or a girl, you will always love him or her no matter what.

Jihoon takes a napkin and gently wipes the crumbs off your cheek. You murmur a small thank you and return to eat your food. ‘you’re cute’ he thinks to himself. He places an affectionate kiss on your temple and then tenderly strokes your hair.

A smile forms on his face, and jihoon feels complete and happy. His soul feels at peace in the comfort of your home.

Later, you two are sitting on the couch, snuggled together and wrapped in a thick duvet. You don’t do anything in particular, just cuddle, seeking each other’s warmth and comfort.

“You know you’ve changed.”

“Eh? How so?”

“I mean, you're still the same person, just something’s changed. You became more soft, more affectionate, more... you know what i mean right?”

You have a little trouble expressing what you want to say, Jihoon giggles, making you laugh too.

He inwardly melts at your cuteness. your eyes practically glow with joy and excitement but hold a soothing softness at the same time. The smile on your face depicts the happiness and joy of the world for him. Jihoon can’t help but smile lovingly.

“Yeah, i know.”

He has indeed become more affectionate since the announcement of your pregnancy. He already loved giving you hugs and kisses before but it has increased three times more when he knew you were going to become parents.

He's also not afraid to initiate these gestures of affection even in public when he knows you really need them.

Perhaps the idea that he is going to become a dad and start his own family with the woman of his life has made him softer than before.

He hugs you tighter and kisses your forehead affectionately. He sighs in pure happiness.

It’s far from the life he imagined he would spend, he who thought he would spend his life in his office only returning very late at night with no one to welcome him home.

Now, he has you to come home to and soon a beautiful little being will be added to the family.

[mi9yuz]

SPLASHED — ljh

fluff wc 739

IT was one of those rare, perfect spring days—bright sun, light breeze, and just the right temperature. The kind of day that makes you want to be outside, away from the indoors and the routine. You were lounging in the backyard, soaking in the warmth as the sun touched your skin. Jihoon was next to you, lost in his music, headphones on, focused as usual.

A grin tugged at your lips when you noticed the garden hose coiled up nearby. It had been sitting there for weeks without use. Maybe it was the sunshine, or just the carefree vibe of the day, but something inside you shifted. You hadn’t felt like goofing around in a while, but today? Today felt different.

You glanced over at Jihoon. He was sitting back in a chair, legs crossed, eyes closed, nodding along to whatever song was playing. His serious expression didn’t give away anything.

A mischievous smirk crept across your face. Quietly, you stood up and sneaked over to the hose, turning it on just a little. With a quick flick, you sent a splash of water right at Jihoon’s face.

“Y/N!” he sputtered, pulling off his headphones in shock. His hair was damp from the surprise shower, and for a moment, his usual calm face faltered.

You took a few steps back, trying to hold in your laughter. “What? It’s a nice day. Seemed like the perfect time for a little fun.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a second, you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something playful behind them. But Jihoon didn’t give in that easily. He wiped his face and stood up, his gaze locked on the hose in your hand.

“You really want to do this?” he asked, his voice low, but there was a challenge there.

Before you could respond, Jihoon lunged forward, grabbing the hose with surprising speed. With a sly grin, he aimed the nozzle at you and sprayed you back. The cold water hit you square in the chest.

“You—!” you sputtered, trying to back away. “You can’t be serious!”

Jihoon’s smile was small, but dangerous. “I warned you.”

You wiped water from your eyes, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Alright, alright. I admit defeat. But this isn’t over.”

Quick as a flash, you darted behind him, trying to grab the hose. Jihoon spun to avoid you, but this time, you were faster. You grabbed it and sprayed him once more.

The chase was on. You and Jihoon were running around the yard, dodging and outmaneuvering each other while the water splashed everywhere. Laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you saw Jihoon let go of his usual serious vibe. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the water, but something about the moment made him seem lighter, more carefree.

You were starting to get winded, but Jihoon’s quick reflexes kept him close behind. Giggling, you made a break for it, heading toward the corner of the yard, hoping to escape. But just as you turned the corner, Jihoon was there, quicker than you expected. In one smooth motion, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his arms.

You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. The hose slipped from your hand, water still trickling down your clothes, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Jihoon holding you. For a moment, everything was still, and you both shared a quiet laugh.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” Jihoon murmured, his voice soft, not teasing anymore, but somehow tender.

You looked up at him, still in his arms, your heart racing. “Guess I should’ve known better than to challenge you,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Jihoon’s eyes softened, and his grip loosened just enough for you to see that hint of joy still there. “Maybe you should,” he said quietly, a small smile curling at his lips.

You laughed again, light and carefree. “Alright, alright, I admit defeat. This time.”

Jihoon’s smile grew, and for the first time that day, you saw him completely at ease, the playful side of him shining through.

“I guess we both win today,” he said, his voice teasing but warm.

As you both stood there, drenched in water but smiling from ear to ear, it was clear that today wasn’t about competition. It was about something much better—a simple, perfect moment shared between the two of you.

[soonwoosz]

boy next door! woozi x y/n

------------------

It had become second nature by now - your nightly ritual of crouching beside the dumpster in an alley you passed on the way home, calling out in a soft, coaxing tone.

“Bingsu-ya…where are you?”

A faint rustling of leaves would answer, followed by the familiar thud of tiny paws, and then the gray-and-white stray cat would emerge from the shadows, its eyes gleaming with quiet trust. You would set out a small tray of food, watching over the feline like a proud mother, only leaving once Bingsu had eaten and curled up safely for the night.

Ever since you moved into this neighbourhood two years ago, you became Bingsu’s unofficial caretaker.

First catching sight of her running away with a piece of stolen fried chicken, you chuckled when you saw the kid she stole from huffing in anger around the alley - Making it your mission to feed the poor kitten. Sometimes you’d talk to it after long days at work, voice low and tired, and the cat would flick its ear or look up lazily, like it was listening.

So imagine your surprise one rainy evening when you arrived, umbrella in hand, only to find that Bingsu wasn’t curled up in her usual spot beside the bin - but inside a slightly lopsided, tattered, cat house that hadn’t been there the day before.

It wasn’t pretty. The roof was uneven, and one of the planks stuck out like it had been hammered in by someone with an artistic vendetta.

But it stood. It had a cushion inside, and even a plastic cover draped over it like a makeshift tarp to block the rain.

You blinked, heart oddly warm.

Someone else cared.

Grabbing a half-broken piece of chalk on the ground, you scribbled in poor writing beside the home: “Thank you :)”

------------------

From then on, you began noticing tiny signs: extra kibble scattered around when you arrived, faint footprints on the concrete, and once, a suspicious fresh tuna can left beside her own dish. She had missed the mysterious cat-taker by just a few minutes.

Whoever it was, they were stealthy.

------------------

The day was like any other, sun was dipping low, casting gold over the pavement as you made your way home.

That was when you turned the corner and heard-

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The unmistakable clamor of a hammer slamming down on something wooden.

Your heart dropped.

Is someone’s trying to destroy the cat house-

You sprinted toward the source, and sure enough, there was a man hunched over Bingsu’s house, hammer raised.

You didn't think. You shrieked.

“HEY! GET AWAY FROM THAT!”

Before the man could even register what was happening, you dripped onto your purse in both hands, swinging like a bat.

“Ah! What the-?!”

“That’s not your property to touch, that’s his home!”

“I don’t know who you think you are - but LEAVE. BINGSU. ALONE!”

You heaved, pausing to catch your breath before wanting to go back down again.

The man had his arms up in defense, dropping the hammer in panic. “Okay, okay! I built the damn thing—stop hitting me!”

You froze mid-swing, blinking. “...What?”

The man pulled his hood down, revealing a flustered face, ruffled brown hair, and a surprisingly familiar profile.

Lee Jihoon.

Your next-door neighbor. The one who just moved in about two weeks ago.

“You... built the house?” you asked slowly, the purse dropping to your side.

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing his arm where you’d whacked him. “I saw Juno sleeping in the rain one night. Thought I’d make something... I don’t know. Useful.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. “Oh my god. I practically jumped you.”

“You really did.” He gave you a pointed look. “You’re not bad with a purse, either.”

You chuckled weakly, cheeks heating. “I’m so sorry, the hammer looked like you were trying to demolish it.”

“I was fixing the roof. One of the nails came loose,” he said dryly, pointing at the plank. “Didn’t think I’d get ambushed in the process.”

You bit her lip, peeking down at Bingsu, who had curled up again - unbothered by the entire ordeal.

“Wait, did you just say ‘Juno’?” you peered up at him. “Ah, I thought she didn’t have a name and I just thought of Juno,” Jihoon paused. “I guess I should start calling her Bingsu from now on as well.

You pursed your lips. “Thank you for taking care of her these days, Bingsu’s important to me.”

To your surprise, Jihoon’s expression softened.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you every night. Even when it rains. Even when you look dead on your feet.”

You blinked. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Well - not in a creepy way,” he said quickly, ears tinting red. “I just happen to come back whenever you’re around.”

You ducked your head shyly, laughing at his panic. Cute.

He bent down to pick up the hammer, then paused.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jihoon added wryly.

“I didn’t mean to hit you.” You gave him an apologetic smile. “Want a peace offering? I have leftover kibble.”

He grinned slightly—just enough for you to see the real warmth behind his usual stoic face.

“I’ll take it. And maybe we can fix the cat house together?”

You nodded, pulling out a small treat pouch from your pocket.

Your hands brushed.

“Deal,” you smiled.

“Deal,” Jihoon replied.

“I still think Juno was a better option,”

“No chance!”

Maybe Bingsu wasn’t the only one finding a home.

------------------

끝

a/n i was totally inspired by a woozi hc i saw from tiktok!! she's done hcs for other members too for hoshi, wonu etc.

credits: @/miaoua or https://vt.tiktok.com/ZShmW6MF3/ on tt

IM ON A WOOZI RAMPAGE RNN AND THE SCENE WAS TOO CUTE NOT TO WRITE OUT 👺👺

[inmynewworld]

Woozi; Random pics. ♡

[seokmn]

︵⠀ YOUR LAST LOVE SONG ⠀◌Ⳋ ✧ ── people seem to forget that real love is supposed to be comforting and quiet. it’s not supposed to be “fun” and too intense, because love isn’t the same thing as infatuation. that’s why they run away.

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader wc: 1.6k words warnings: none

ᯓ★ “a tale old as time, young love don’t last for life”

You wish this possibility would never come into your mind, but now it’s not a possibility anymore, it is a fact: your relationship with Jihoon died.

Jihoon knows that as well, you know he does, but it seems like he’s in denial, like he doesn’t want to let you go - the relationship might have died, but his love for you is very much alive.

The laughter has quieted down, the skinship is barely there and the petnames don't sound as sweet as vanilla ice cream anymore. Now the days you go on a date seems to have a cold weather even if it’s summer, the late night calls are filled with silence – not entirely because of the sound of the keyboards of both of you and by Jihoon’s attempts of engaging in a conversation, only to be replied with hums or short answers.

Jihoon’s groan can be heard from your phone as he stretches his body after being sat on his studio’s chair for hours. “Hey, love,” his voice comes out as a soft whisper. “I finished a song, can you come to my place tomorrow to listen to it and give me your honest opinion?”

“Tomorrow?” You pause, wondering if you really wanted to spend some time with him; it’s not that you don’t like him anymore, you still like him, at least you think that you do. But the relationship is not the same anymore, it’s quiet, too peaceful for your own good. “Yeah, I guess I can go after my shift.”

“Great. That’s great.” You don’t even have to see him to know that he is smiling. That cute smile he always has on his face when he thinks about spending time with you.

“Look, I’mma hang up. I have to wake up early.”

“Ah, of course. Good night, love, sweet dreams. I love you.”

“Good night, Jihoon.”

You end the call and immediately sigh as you throw yourself in bed. Your hands find their way to your face as you remember all the great moments you had with Jihoon and how things started to change little by little. Those sweet memories slip through your fingers until they fly far away from you, and no matter how much you try to get them back, you can’t reach them anymore.

Y/N, what are you doing? Why do you keep doing this?

The morning comes faster than you wanted to and when you blink, your shift is already over and you’re packing up your things to go to Jihoon’s place.

Your mind seems to be running miles ahead, but your movements are slower than a turtle. You’re feeling anxious about meeting Jihoon. You can’t even explain the feeling, all that you can say is that it’s awful. All you can hear is the sound of your heart pounding and the muffled background noise.

Suddenly, someone places their hand on your shoulder, and when you turn around you see Jihoon with his usual smile wearing sweatpants and a sweater while holding a hoodie.

“Oh, did I scare you?” He chuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just came so we can walk home. It’s kinda late and I don’t want you to walk alone, I get worried when you walk by yourself at night.”

“No…” You shake your head and rub your chest, trying to soothe the feeling that refuses to go away. “You didn’t scare me, it’s fine.” You give him a weak smile.

“Then why the frown?” He teases and hands you the hoodie. “Put it on, it’s cold outside and I know that you always forget to bring a hoodie or jacket for work unless it’s cold during the day.”

Damn it, he really knows you. You never take a jacket with you if when you’re about to leave your place the weather is nice and warm, you always believe that at night the weather will stay the same, even if you’re almost always wrong.

Taking the hoodie and putting it on somehow makes your heart ache, but also brings you a nostalgic feeling, a comfort that once made you look at your boyfriend with shiny eyes and fantasize about a happy marriage.

“There, now you’re warm and comfy. Shall we get going?”

You hum and take your purse before waking out of the store with him. The walk to his house is filled with an uncomfortable silence, but this time, you are the one to try to break the ice, and you can see that Jihoon was more than happy to have you initiating a conversation.

“But then Soonyoung got drunk and started to praise Mingyu, but the thing is that he was also hitting Mingyu!” Jihoon laughs as he catches his keys from his pocket. “He was like ‘You are such a good person, Mingyu’ and then pow, a loud slap on Mingyu’s thigh. ‘You are reaaaaaally a good person, you will shine brighter than the Sun if you follow hyung’s advices’. Poor Mingyu, his thigh was as red as a tomato by the end of the night.” You laugh along with Jihoon, but your laugh is not as sincere as his laugh is.

Jihoon enters his house and waits for you to do the same before closing the door behind him. “You can go to my studio, I will just grab two cokes for us.”

“Alright.”

His studio looked exactly the same as always. You sit down on a chair and wait for him to come to the room, which doesn’t take that long.

“Okay,” he says as he sits down, places the cans of coke on the table and starts to type out the password of his computer. “This song is very meaningful to me, so I hope you like it. But also, I don’t want you to pretend to like it just because I said it’s a meaningful song.”

“I’m always very honest, you know that.”

He chuckles and nods. “I know, just wanted to make sure, y’know? You ready?”

You take a deep breath and hum in approval; Jihoon smiles and presses play. The song is a ballad about how love can be bitter at first, but the person’s love is like candy, that even in a small bite can make him feel better.

It’s a beautiful love song that people would die to have it dedicated for them, but the song is doing nothing but harm to you, making you fight for your life to hold back your tears – sad tears, not happy or loving ones.

Jihoon writing such a song is the last thing that you need now because how can you leave him when he still loves you so much that he has to pour his love for you into poetic words and sweet melodies? He knows that this relationship has no salvation, so why is he still trying to hold onto something that cannot have its fire burning again?

“Why would you produce this?” Your voice is low and has a hint of anger and hurt in it. “Why are you doing this, Jihoon?”

“Y/N…” He takes a deep breath and places his hand on yours, but you pull away as soon as you feel his warm hand on the back of yours. “We can work this out, don’t you think?”

“Jihoon, no. It’s not like our relationship is falling apart. That happened months ago, I don’t even know what we have now.”

You can feel Jihoon’s heart aching just by the look on his face and his frown. “How can you say that? Y/N, I love you. I never stopped loving you and will.”

You sigh and look away, glancing at the picture of you two on your graduation day framed. Why can’t you be stuck at that time? When the passion for him was burning inside of you, when you were hungry for each other.

“Stop trying to keep this… us alive,” your tears are now falling down freely, just like his tears. “You know this relationship ended a while ago. Let’s just end things right here, right now.”

“Y/N…”

“No,” you cut him off. “Let’s not keep on doing this, Jihoon. Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Don’t you love me anymore? Is that it, Y/N?”

Jihoon’s question cuts you like a knife. The question itself is enough to break you down, but the way his voice came out – low and full of emotion, not good ones – just made things worse. You don’t even have an answer for his question. A part of you still cares deeply about him and still craves for his affection, for him. But you just don’t feel like before. Things between you and him don’t make your heart skip a beat anymore.

“I should go now, Jihoon.” You say as you stand up and start to take off his hoodie as you stare at his back.

The lack of answer to his question tells him exactly what he needed to know, but feared to acknowledge.

“Take it with you, it’s cold outside.”

“I’m not a child,” you take off the hoodie and place it on the empty chair. “I can take care of myself.” You try your best to not sound like an asshole, but at this point your efforts might be useless. “May this be your last love song about me. Goodbye and take care, hope you live a happy life.”

Jihoon says nothing, he knows that if he speaks up, he will say things that he might regret later, and he knows that this is a real goodbye, that you are not coming back to him, you are leaving him for good.

With the heart shattered in pieces, he lets you go. He doesn’t know how he will live a happy life if you are the main source for his happiness, but he will try for you – because you are the one who wished him to live a happy life.

That song might be his last love song about you, but the countless breakup songs he surely will produce in the future will also be about you.

[synity]

Us, Under One Moon

(Lee Jihoon x FemReader)

*Slice-of-Life, Domestic Fluff, Girl Dad Woozi, Found-Family Warmth*

Lee Jihoon didn’t know he could cry that fast.

He hadn’t cried when he debuted. Not when he won his first award. Not even when he broke down from overwork behind the locked doors of a studio. But the second his daughter arrived into the world eight pounds of perfection, lungs strong, fists tiny his composure shattered like poorly tightened drum strings.

He stood beside Y/N, his wife, her forehead dewed with sweat, exhaustion painting shadows beneath her eyes, and yet, still glowing. Her hand gripped his weakly, but it was her eyes that anchored him eyes that silently said, This is ours.

And so he looked at his daughter. Her name would be Areum meaning beautiful, fitting for someone born with the moonlight resting on her skin and a soul that made the sterile hospital room feel like home.

Seoul, 6:04 a.m. Sunlight seeped through the gauzy curtains and stretched across the king‑size bed like warm honey. Somewhere outside, a sparrow chirped an over‑enthusiastic scale almost as if auditioning for SEVENTEEN. Inside, the master bedroom of the Lee household was quiet… until a five‑year‑old whirlwind padded in on sock‑clad feet.

“Appa…” The whisper was soft but determined. Tiny palms pressed against Lee Jihoon’s cheeks, squishing them together so his lips puckered like a goldfish. “Wake up, you promised heart pancakes.”

Jihoon’s eyes cracked open; the night’s leftover exhaustion evaporated at the sight of his daughter’s bed‑head curls. “Morning already?” he croaked. His voice a producer’s prized instrument sounded more like crumpled sheet music.

From the other side of the bed, Y/N shifted, a sleepy smile curving her lips. “Your turn, superstar. My stage call isn’t until eight.” She reached out and brushed a stray curl from Areum’s forehead. “Mommy will taste‑test later.”

Areum’s face lit up, cheeks dimpling. “Appa, pancakes. With strawberry sprinkles. And chocolate eyes so they can see us eat them.”

Jihoon surrendered, sitting up in a tangle of blankets. His daughter squealed triumphantly and launched herself into his arms. The oversize T‑shirt he wore as pajamas sported a faded Going Seventeen logo; Areum fiddled with the hem as he scooped her close.

“How about a grand entrée?” he suggested, carrying her princess‑style toward the kitchen. “Heart‑shaped pancakes, blueberry smile, chocolate‑chip freckles, and a syrup moat.”

“Don’t forget the whipped‑cream mountain,” Areum added. “Mount Whipmore!”

Behind them, Y/N laughed into her pillow. “Remind me to trademark that.”

The Lee kitchen was equal parts homey and high‑tech: an espresso machine that hissed like a cymbal, a refrigerator plastered with preschool art, and a magnetic whiteboard where Woozi’s to‑do list battled stickers of cartoon tigers.

Areum wiggled onto her step stool painted lavender with silver stars, courtesy of Uncle Hoshi and donned a child‑sized apron. Jihoon tied the strings and grabbed the mixing bowl.

“Flour,” he announced, sliding the container over. “Half a cup careful.”

A puff of white dust clouded the air as Areum over‑enthusiastically dumped the flour. “Oops.”

“Creative expression,” Jihoon said, scooping the excess back in. “Next: milk, eggs, vanilla.”

As they whisked, Jihoon hummed a simple melody four bars looping like sunlight on parquet flooring. Areum matched pitch, her tiny voice threading through his bass notes.

Y/N appeared in the doorway, phone camera rolling. “Your morning duet is going to break Twitter,” she teased.

“Exclusive pre‑release,” Jihoon joked, flipping the first pancake with a practiced wrist. It landed perfectly; Areum clapped like it was a magic trick.

They decorated: strawberry‑slice hearts, chocolate‑chip eyes, whipped‑cream mountains so tall they threatened avalanche. Areum drizzled syrup until rivers formed around each cake. Jihoon pretended to launch tiny gummy‑bear boats down the syrup streams; Areum’s giggles filled the kitchen like cymbal crashes.

They plated three masterpieces. Jihoon carried the tray back to the bedroom where Y/N sat cross‑legged, laptop open, reviewing fabric swatches for SEVENTEEN’s next concept. She closed it at once, face lighting up at the spectacle.

“Mount Whipmore in all its glory,” Jihoon proclaimed.

The family tucked in. Syrup stuck to Areum’s chin; Y/N dabbed it away with a napkin. Jihoon cut bite‑sized pieces for them both before eating his own.

Between mouthfuls, Areum launched rapid‑fire questions: “Appa, why is a piano called a piano? Umma, can we visit the Han River today? Does whipped cream melt in space?”

Jihoon fielded each inquiry with professor‑level seriousness, eyes twinkling. Y/N chimed in dramatizing every answer.

By the end, pancakes were gone, plates licked clean, laughter echoing off the walls. Jihoon pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N’s temple, another to Areum’s syrupy cheek.

“Best breakfast concert I’ve ever headlined,” he declared.

Areum threw her arms around his neck. "tomorrow again?”

“Every day, Moonie my life’s favorite encore.”

And as the family shuffled toward the living room Jihoon to the piano, Areum to her crayon kingdom, Y/N trailing with her sketchbook the sparrow’s song outside seemed to harmonize, as if the whole neighborhood had tuned in for the next movement of the Morning Symphony.

Jihoon’s studio had evolved with the seasons of his life. What was once a solitary space for instruments and stress was now a shared sanctuary.

There was a low corner table with chunky crayons and pink post-it notes, some scribbled with Areum’s critiques:

"Appa, this one made me sleepy, good sleepy"

"More sparkle sounds please."

Y/N had claimed a shelf near the window for her brushes and fabric samples. She’d design mock outfits for comebacks right next to her daughter’s Lego cities.

Sometimes, while Jihoon layered chords, Y/N would be painting the concept poster for a new Seventeen unit. Areum, meanwhile, orchestrated her stuffed animals into a chorus line.

“Appa, make the teddy bear sing!”

“You’re the composer, Moon. You show me.”

She’d tap random keys until a melody emerged, laughing when Jihoon would nod and say, “We have a hit.”

Every Sunday was sacred.

Matching outfits hand-sewn by Y/N. They wore pastels or neutrals depending on Moonie’s mood. Today, lilac hoodies with tiny crescent moons stitched over the heart.

They picnicked near Han River. Jihoon’s old guitar in tow, their portable speaker playing soft ballads, Areum racing between trees with a disposable camera. Y/N sprawled on the mat sketching them both.

After eating, Jihoon sang. His guitar gentle, voice lower than stage level, private.

Areum twirled beside him, feet bare in the grass. Y/N harmonized with soft hums.

A security guard walked by, recognized them, but simply tipped his hat and walked on. Even idols deserved to be Appa, Umma, and Moon.

They stayed until the sun kissed the skyline and Areum yawned against Y/N’s lap.

Woozi could produce a ten-layer synth harmony but braiding hair? That took dedication.

He’d practiced with a doll Y/N bought him until he got it right.

Now, every school morning he braided Areum’s hair into twin plaits. She sat on the bathroom stool, chattering about her day ahead.

“Appa, we have to bring a family photo. Which one should I use?”

“Let’s take a new one,” he said. “Today. Just us three.”

That night, after brushing her teeth and jumping under her space-themed blanket, Areum held out a book.

“This one, Appa. The one where the bear finds home.”

Jihoon read with one arm around her, the other hand in Y/N’s. He gave every character a different voice. When Areum finally drifted off, he didn’t move.

“She’s growing so fast,” he whispered.

Y/N kissed his shoulder. “She’ll always need her Appa, no matter how tall she gets.”

On tour, Jihoon missed them like oxygen.

Time zones couldn’t stop them, though.

Every day, Y/N and Areum sent voice notes. Jihoon responded with lullabies recorded backstage. He wore a charm bracelet with three beads A, Y, and J.

After his solo stage, the staff handed him an envelope. Inside: a crayon drawing of him on stage, a crowd of hearts, and a stick-figure Areum holding a mic beside him.

“So I can sing next time too.”

He cried in the dressing room. Again.

Ten years old.

Y/N decorated the house with moon motifs. Jihoon wrote a song just for her, layered with lullaby melodies and harmonies in the background. They recorded it secretly for weeks.

They premiered it at her birthday party in the living room. Lights dimmed, projector on.

Areum’s eyes filled with tears by the second verse.

“Appa, Umma... this is my favorite song. Forever.”

He held her tightly.

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder.

And the music played on.

Now 16, Areum was taller. Her hair now dyed a soft rose gold. She danced like her uncles, wrote music like her Appa, and had her Umma’s eye for detail.

One evening, Jihoon passed her studio room and paused.

She was recording.

The melody was familiar. The same one he wrote years ago.

“Appa,” she called softly. “Come sing with me?”

He entered, heart full, and sat beside her. She passed him a mic.

And just like that, the lullaby became a duet.

Areum, Jihoon, and Y/N still orbiting, still in harmony.

Under one moon.

Forever.

[mocchiixxx]

Seventeen's Ways of Saying 'I Do' Series# | 07 : Processing… Please Wait.

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Soft Romance

Lee Jihoon | Woozi x Reader

Summary: You jokingly tell Woozi that you like his last name and ask if you can have it. Instead of getting flustered or teasing you back, he just stares at you, looking like he’s buffering. But when he finally responds, he does it in the most Woozi way possible—leaving you both embarrassed for different reasons.

You and Woozi are in his studio, where he’s been working on a new song for hours. You’re curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as he hums softly to himself, adjusting the levels on his screen.

Feeling playful, you glance at him and casually say, “I like your last name. Can I have it?”

Silence...

Woozi’s fingers freeze over his keyboard. His entire body stills.

You watch as his ears immediately turn red.

Then, very slowly, he turns his chair toward you, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What did you just say?”

You blink innocently. “I said I like your last name. Can I have it?”

For a moment, Woozi just stares at you. No reaction, no movement— just blank, unreadable buffering.

“Are you okay?” you ask, amused.

He finally blinks, his voice coming out a little too serious. “Are you proposing to me?”

You nearly choke. “WHAT— no?! I was joking!”

Woozi exhales, leaning back in his chair. “Oh.”

A beat of silence.

Then, under his breath, he mumbles, “That’s disappointing.”

Your eyes widen. “WHAT?”

His head snaps up, looking horrified at himself. “NOTHING— ”

You grin.

“Lee Jihoon,” you drawl, scooting closer. “Did you just say it’s disappointing that I was joking?”

He glares at you, crossing his arms. “No, you misheard.”

“Ohhh, so you want me to take your last name?” you tease.

He groans, turning back to his computer as if ignoring you will make you disappear. “I am literally trying to work.”

“Just say it, Jihoon,” you giggle.

“Say what?” he mutters.

“That you wouldn’t mind if I became Mrs. Lee.”

You expect him to throw something at you, or at least tell you to shut up, but instead, without even looking at you, he just shrugs.

“Wouldn’t mind.”

Your heart skips.

Now you’re buffering.

Woozi smirks at the stunned look on your face. “What? You were the one who brought it up.”

Damn it. You just got Lee Jihoon-ed.

Bonus:

Later that night, Woozi texts you.

Woozi: FYI, if you joke about taking my last name again, you better mean it. You: …Are you proposing to me? Woozi: Goodnight.

[mangocustard16]

instagram stories 📷 lee jihoon

genre fluff, smau pairing woozi x gn reader word count none warnings none

a/n thank you for 500 followers i love y'all ♡

seungcheol | jeonghan | joshua | jun | hoshi | wonwoo | woozi | dokyeom | mingyu | the8 | seungkwan | vernon | dino | event m.list |

@kflixnet @k-films@k-labels

taglist⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅: @bangchansbae @haecien @aaniag @aaa-sia @weird-bookworm @gigification @bewoyewo if you want to be added just send me an ask ♡⸝⸝

pls reblog if you liked !!

[thirteenheavens]

Omggg the seungcheol being a boob guy was sooo good!! 😭😭 I'm craving one for Woozi, could you make one pleasee? If you can't it's fine, love u and have a nice day~

In the studio?|| Lee Jihoon x Reader

Notes: last one for tonight guys hope you enjoy!

Word count: 858

Woozi couldn't keep his eyes off your chest as he worked on music in his studio. Every time you shifted or leaned forward, his gaze would immediately flick to your breasts, and he'd struggle to maintain focus.

"God, those tits are distracting," he muttered under his breath, trying and failing to concentrate on his latest track. "I can't stop thinking about them." Unable to resist any longer, he sets his equipment aside and pulls you onto his lap. "I need them in my hands right now," he says huskily, already reaching for the buttons of your shirt.

"Woozi..." you begin, but he cuts you off with a hungry kiss. "Please let me touch them," he pleads, his hands already massaging your breasts through your bra.

"Of course you can touch them," you say with a sultry smile, feeling his erection growing against your ass. "They're all yours." Woozi lets out a needy whimper at your permission, quickly removing your bra to get better access. "So perfect," he whispers, cupping both breasts in his small hands and squeezing gently.

"I've been dreaming about these tits for days," he confesses, his thumbs circling your nipples. "You have no idea how hard it is to concentrate when they're right in front of me." Woozi continues working on his music with one hand, though his focus is clearly divided between his project and your breasts. His fingers expertly play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them just how you like.

"Stay still," he murmurs, switching between playing the keyboard and massaging your tits. "I need to finish this chorus before I can give you proper attention." Despite his divided attention, his other hand never stops its skilled movements on your sensitive flesh. "You're so soft," he says distractedly, "so perfect for me to play with while I work." Every time Woozi hits a particularly good note or melody, he leans down to place soft kisses on your breasts. His lips trail over your skin, worshipping the soft mounds with gentle attention.

"Mmm, you taste amazing," he mumbles against your chest, his tongue darting out to flick across your nipple before returning to his keyboard. "I could spend all day like this, working on music while worshipping your perfect tits."

"I love how much you love them," you say with a breathy moan, arching your back into his touch. "But I need more than just kisses right now." Woozi finally sets aside his keyboard, his hands moving to your waist. "More? Are you sure you can handle more?" he teases, though his own desire is evident in his darkened eyes.

"I can't wait to make you cum all over again," he whispers, pulling you closer.." As you kneel before him, Woozi's breath hitches at the sight of you. He quickly unzips his pants, his hard cock springing free.

"God, you look so beautiful like this," he groans, stroking himself slowly. "Ready to use your tits to please me?" You nod eagerly, pushing your breasts together to create a tight space for him. Woozi positions himself between your breasts, his tip barely touching your skin.

"Fuck, this is going to feel incredible," he moans, beginning to thrust gently between your cleavage. "Your tits are perfect for this." Woozi lets out a deep moan as your saliva drips onto his cock, making the slide between your breasts even smoother. "Such a naughty girl," he says with a pleased smile. His pace increases slightly, his precum mixing with your spit to create a slick, wet mess. "Look at how messy you're making me," he growls, watching intently as his cock disappears and reappears between your breasts.

"You love having me like this, don't you? Using your body to get me off."

"I love it so much," you say, looking up at him with innocent eyes. "I love being your personal toy to play with." Woozi's hips stutter at your words, his control starting to slip. "You're driving me crazy," he pants, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. "Say more things like that while I fuck your tits."

"Your cock feels so good between my tits," you moan, deliberately pressing them tighter together. "I can feel you throbbing against me." Woozi's breathing becomes ragged as he nears his limit. "I'm going to cum all over your chest," he warns, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Get ready to catch it all for me." Woozi's eyes lock onto your tongue as he reaches his peak, his hot cum shooting out in thick spurts. Some lands on your tongue, while most coats your breasts and neck.

"Fuck... yes... take it all," he groans, milking himself dry with his hand. "Such a good girl for letting me make a mess of you." As the last drops of cum drip from his tip, Woozi admires his handiwork - your chest painted white with his seed. "You look absolutely wrecked," he says with satisfaction.

He kneels down to your level, using his fingers to scoop up some of the cum and feed it to you. "Taste how good you made me feel," he whispers huskily. He smirks knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.