#m: nct u

[winwintea]

my funny valentine

PAIRING ↬ best friend!lee donghyuck x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ thriller, horror, suspense, romance, crack, tooth fairy haechan, <- trust me that'll make sense, they play detectives, stalker au, valentines au, flirty jaemin, songwriter and poet mark lee, painter renjun, they all kinda down bad for y/n a little though

WARNINGS  ↬ teeth. and it's gross. also stalkers !!

SUMMARY ↬ for valentines day all you wanted to do was chill with your best friend. unfortunately for you, there's a little someone claiming to be your secret admirer bringing you cryptic valentine's day gifts. you brush it off until the gifts start getting more and more sinister. can you and haechan solve this mystery before it's too late? (and can he confess some of his own feelings to you while he's at it?)

WORD COUNT ↬ 4.8k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ while this may not be a FUNNY fic, it’s very heavily inspired by MISAMO’s “Funny Valentine” so please go check that song out and give it some love <33

PLAYLIST ↬ the wolf - siames; stalker’s tango - autoheart; bust your knee caps - pomplamoose; smoke and mirrors - jayn; tag, you’re it - melanie martinez; funny valentine - misamo

The air outside is crisp, a reminder that winter hasn’t fully let go, despite the pink and red decorations plastered across storefronts. Valentine’s Day is a week away, and yet, as you step out of your apartment, the holiday is the furthest thing from your mind.

Until you nearly trip over something at your doorstep.

A single red rose rests against the welcome mat, its petals velvety and deep, almost too perfect to be real. A small, cream-colored card, tied around with a black ribbon sits at the center.

You bend down, fingers brushing over the card as you flip it open.

“You don’t see me for who I am, but I see you.”

A strange shiver trails down your spine.

You glance around the hallway of your apartment complex. The usual dull lighting flickers slightly, and the air is still. No sounds of footsteps, no hushed whispers from neighbors. Just silence.

A prank? A weird marketing gimmick? Maybe even a mistaken delivery? You don’t have a secret admirer. Or at least, not one you know of.

Still, you tuck the note into your pocket and step back inside, leaving the rose on the counter as you grab your phone. Without thinking, you call the one person who would get a kick out of this.

The line barely rings before Haechan picks up.

"Yo, what’s up?" His voice is warm, laced with the lazy charm that makes it impossible to tell whether he's just woken up or has been up scheming since dawn.

“You’ll never guess what I just found at my door.”

“You finally got that Amazon package you forgot you ordered?”

“No, you idiot.” You roll your eyes, staring at the rose. “A gift. A creepy one.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Haechan’s intrigued hum. “Creepy, huh? You have my attention. Spill.”

You quickly relay the details—the rose, the note, the unsettling feeling gnawing at your gut. You half-expect him to laugh it off, but instead, his voice drops into something quieter, more serious.

"And you're sure it wasn't left at the wrong door?"

"I’m not sure about that. My name wasn’t on it, but my neighbors are men. Who would do this to a guy?”

Another pause. Then, a small chuckle. "Well, well. Looks like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer."

"Not funny."

"Are you kidding? It’s hilarious." You can practically hear his grin through the phone. "You're living in a real-life romance movie. Or a horror movie. Either way, I’m invested."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "So what do I do? Just… ignore it?"

"Absolutely not. We investigate. Duh."

Your brows furrow. "Investigate? It's probably just some dumb joke."

"Or," he counters, voice dripping with amusement, "it's the beginning of something way more interesting. C'mon, don't you wanna know who’s behind this? What if it’s some insanely hot dude or chick who’s just so in love with you but socially inept?”

You scoff. "Yeah, because nothing says romance like borderline stalking."

"Hey, some people are just dedicated," he teases. "Look at those BookTok people. And tell you what—meet me at the café in an hour. Bring the note. I wanna see it."

"You’re actually taking this seriously?"

"Of course! A mystery has landed right at your doorstep. And as your best friend, it is my duty to help you solve it."

You sigh. Haechan has always been dramatic.

"Fine," you relent. "But if it turns out to be a stupid prank, you owe me coffee."

"You got it, Valentine."

The café is buzzing with the usual mid-morning crowd: college students hunched over laptops, couples sharing pastries, baristas calling out names over the hum of conversation. The scent of coffee and warm vanilla lingers in the air, comforting and familiar.

You spot Haechan immediately. He’s lounged in the corner booth, one arm draped over the back of the seat, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he watches you approach.

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you slide into the seat across from him. “I was starting to think your mystery lover got to you first.”

You roll your eyes, fishing the note out of your pocket and dropping it onto the table in front of him. “Here. Do your thing, Sherlock.”

Haechan picks up the note with exaggerated care, holding it between his fingers like it’s a sacred artifact. He squints, tilts his head, even sniffs it dramatically before nodding. “Yep. Just as I suspected.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“This is definitely paper.”

You snatch the note back, smacking his arm with it. “Wow, incredible deduction dipshit.”

He laughs, dodging your hand before leaning in, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “No, but seriously. This is weird. The handwriting is neat, almost too neat. Like someone either really took their time or… copied it.”

You frown. “Copied it?”

“Yeah. Like, I dunno, tracing someone else's writing. See how the pressure is kinda uneven in some spots? It’s like they were trying too hard to be precise.”

You blink, staring at him. “Since when are you an expert in handwriting analysis?”

Haechan grins, tapping his temple. “I watch a lot of crime documentaries. Also, Renjun had a forgery phase in middle school, so I picked up a few things.”

“Of course he did,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Okay, so say you’re right—what does that mean?”

“It means whoever wrote this was really careful about not being recognized.” He leans back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Which makes me think this isn’t just some dumb prank. They don’t want you to know who they are.”

That unsettling feeling from earlier creeps back up your spine.

“What if it’s someone we know?” you ask, voice quieter now.

Haechan tilts his head, considering. “Could be. Or it could be some rando with a crush. Either way, we have a mission. I’ll show you just how good a duo we’ll be.”

You exhale. “And that mission is…?”

“To find out who’s been leaving you love letters, obviously.” He grins, reaching for his coffee. “And if they turn out to be hot, I take full credit for setting you up.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey, I take my best friend duties very seriously.”

You roll your eyes, but still can’t help but feel a bit uneasy by it all.

The uneasy feeling from the café lingers as you make your way home.

"They don’t want you to know who they are."

"What if it’s someone we know?"

You shake the thoughts away as you unlock your door, stepping inside. The first thing you notice is the rose, still resting on the counter where you left it. Something about it feels different now—less like a mystery and more like a warning.

You inhale deeply, trying to push the paranoia aside. Maybe this is all just a prank. Maybe Haechan’s just hyping it up because he loves drama. Maybe—

Your phone buzzes.

[Unknown Number]: Did you like my first gift?

A sharp jolt of fear twists in your stomach. Your fingers tighten around your phone as you stare at the message.

Not a prank.

Your mouth runs dry as you hesitate before typing back.

[You]: Who is this?

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.

[Unknown Number]: You’ll see soon enough.

Your heart pounds.

And then… three quick knocks on your front door.

You jump, whipping around to stare at it. The knock surprisingly wasn’t loud nor aggressive. However it got the message across.

Slowly, you step forward, peeking through the peephole. The hallway is empty. With a shaky breath, you unlock the door and crack it open just enough to peek outside.

A small, velvet box sits on your welcome mat.

Another gift.

You glance both ways down the hall—still empty. Whoever left it is already gone. 

Heart hammering, you crouch down and carefully pick up the box, stepping back inside before locking the door behind you. Your fingers tremble slightly as you open it.

Inside is a delicate silver locket, its chain coiled neatly in the box. You hold it up to the light, examining the intricate engravings along the edges. It’s beautiful—almost vintage.

But when you pry it open, your breath catches in your throat.

Inside is a tiny photograph. One you recognize immediately.

It’s you.

You, standing outside your apartment building, smiling at the camera. But what makes your stomach turn is the person beside you.

Because there was someone beside you. But their face has been completely scratched out. And you have no idea who it is.

Your pulse roars in your ears as your grip tightens around the locket.

This isn’t a joke.

You fumble for your phone and dial Haechan’s number. He picks up almost immediately.

"Yo, miss me already?"

"Haechan." Your voice comes out unsteady, breathless. "It happened again."

A pause. Then, his tone shifts. It’s calm, but sharper now. "I’m coming over."

Fifteen minutes. That’s all it takes for Haechan to show up at your door, slightly out of breath, a bag of convenience store snacks in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Okay,” he says, pushing past you into the apartment, “give me the rundown. And before you ask, yes, I brought emergency snacks because I know you stress-eat.”

You let the door swing shut behind him, arms crossed. “Haechan, this is serious.”

“I am taking it seriously.” He tosses a bag of chips onto the counter before turning to you. “Now, tell me everything before I assume you’ve been cursed by a Victorian ghost.”

You exhale, pulling the velvet box from your pocket and flipping it open. “I found this at my door. Look inside.”

Haechan steps closer, peering down at the locket. He picks it up, flipping it open with careful fingers. His expression shifts immediately—the usual mischief in his eyes dims, replaced by something darker.

“The hell…?” He traces a thumb over the scratched-out face in the photo. “Okay. This? This is officially creepy.”

“No kidding,” you mutter, rubbing your arms as if that will rid you of the lingering unease. “It’s my photo, Haechan. And someone ruined it.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at the image. When he finally looks up, his gaze is sharp. “Where did they even get this picture?”

“I don’t know. That’s what freaks me out.” You sit on the edge of your couch, fingers gripping the fabric of your sweater. “Someone had to have taken it themselves. But I don’t remember anyone standing next to me like this.”

Haechan clicks his tongue, flipping the locket shut. “Alright. That settles it. We need a suspect list.”

You blink. “You say that like this is some kind of crime show.”

“Well, yeah,” he deadpans. “Except way more fun because it’s happening to you.”

You throw a pillow at his head. He dodges it effortlessly, grinning.

“Okay, okay,” he says, plopping down next to you. “Real talk. Do you know anyone who might be obsessed with you? Secret admirer type, or maybe even an ex with attachment issues?”

You think for a moment. And then—

“…Jaemin.”

Haechan’s brows shoot up. “Jaemin?”

You nod, stomach twisting. “He flirts with me constantly, even when I brush him off. Plus, I know I’ve caught him taking pictures of me before, but he always plays it off like it’s just a joke.”

Haechan leans back, considering. “Okay. Solid lead. What’s our game plan?”

You chew on your lip before standing. “We ask him directly.”

Haechan grins, standing up beside you. “Ooooh, an interrogation? Spicy.”

You roll your eyes, shoving your phone into your pocket. “Let’s just get this over with.”

And with that, the two of you head out—ready to confront the first suspect.

Jaemin’s usual hangout is the campus library, though calling it “studying” is generous. More often than not, he’s lounging in one of the oversized chairs, scrolling through his phone, pretending to be busy.

That’s exactly where you find him now, stretched out with his feet propped up on another chair, earbuds in, humming to himself.

Haechan nudges you. “Your not-so-secret admirer is in his natural habitat.”

You sigh, straightening your shoulders before striding over. Jaemin looks up just as you plant your hands on the table in front of him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets smoothly, pulling out an earbud. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Haechan plops down beside him. “We have some questions.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah,” you say, crossing your arms. “And you’re going to answer them.”

His lips twitch, amused. “Sounds serious.”

“It is serious,” you snap, pulling out the locket and placing it in front of him. “Know anything about this?”

Jaemin’s gaze flickers to the locket, and for the first time, his smirk falters. His fingers twitch like he wants to pick it up, but he hesitates.

“What is this?” he asks, voice quieter now.

“You tell me,” you say. “It showed up at my door today. Someone left it for me, along with a creepy note. And considering how often you love taking pictures with me, I thought I’d start with you.”

Jaemin’s jaw tightens. “You think I gave you this?”

Haechan tilts his head. “Well, you do flirt with Y/N like it’s your full-time job.”

Jaemin exhales through his nose, leaning forward. “Okay, yeah, I flirt. But this?” He taps the locket. “This isn’t me. I’d never scratch out my own damn face.”

Your stomach clenches. “So you recognize the picture?”

Jaemin hesitates for half a second too long. Then, he shakes his head. “No.”

You and Haechan exchange a look.

“You’re lying,” Haechan accuses. “Dude, you hesitated.”

Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know where this came from, but I’ve seen that photo before. Just… not like this.”

Your pulse quickens. “Where?”

Another pause. Then, reluctantly, Jaemin mutters, “Renjun’s phone.”

Both you and Haechan freeze.

“What?” Haechan blurts. “Why would Renjun have a picture of Y/N on his phone?”

Jaemin shrugs. “No clue. It was a while ago. I remember seeing it and asking why he had it, but he just brushed me off. Thought it was weird, but not, y’know—this weird.” He gestures to the locket.

You stare at him, heart pounding. Could it be Renjun?

Haechan crosses his arms. “Alright, Nana. We’ll put you on the ‘maybe’ list for now. But if we find out you’re lying…” He drags a finger across his throat dramatically.

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Can I go back to existing now?”

You nod slowly, mind already racing ahead.

If Renjun had that photo… What else did he have?

And what would the next gift be?

The walk back to your apartment is tense. Haechan is uncharacteristically quiet beside you, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, his brows furrowed in thought.

"You okay?" you ask.

He exhales through his nose. "Just thinking. If Jaemin’s telling the truth, why would Renjun have that picture?"

"That’s what we’re going to find out," you murmur.

When you finally reach your apartment door, a chill runs down your spine. Sitting on your welcome mat is another small box, this time heart-shaped and a deep shade of crimson.

"Of course," Haechan mutters. "Right on schedule."

You swallow hard, exchanging a wary glance with him before bending down to pick it up. Unlike the velvet box from before, this one is heavier. With trembling fingers, you lift the lid—

A soft, eerie melody drifts into the air.

A music box.

But something is… off. The tune warbles and distorts, as if the mechanism inside is struggling to play correctly. It’s haunting, a melody that should be sweet but instead sends a shiver down your spine.

Inside, nestled among the delicate gears, is a small folded note.

A song just for you.

You stare at the words, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Haechan leans in. "Okay, I really don’t like this one."

You shut the lid abruptly, cutting off the melody. "Me neither."

"Who the hell writes you a personalized creepy lullaby?" he mutters. Then, his eyes widen slightly, realization dawning. "Wait. Music. Writing. Oh, come on—"

"Mark." You say his name at the same time Haechan does.

Mark has always been the sentimental type. From writing poetry to composing random melodies in his free time. If anyone had the skills to create something like this, it was him.

You grip the box tighter. "We need to talk to him."

Haechan nods. "Now."

You and Haechan find Mark exactly where you expect him, tucked away in a corner of the campus music room, hunched over a notebook, a pencil pressed against his lips. His fingers tap absentmindedly against the desk, keeping rhythm to whatever melody is playing in his head.

Haechan nudges you. "Caught him in the act. Very suspicious."

You shoot him a look before stepping forward. "Mark."

Mark glances up, blinking in surprise. "Oh, hey. What’s up?"

You waste no time, setting the music box down on the desk in front of him. His eyes flicker to it, then back to you.

"Did you make this?" you ask.

His eyebrows pull together. "Uh… no?"

Haechan crosses his arms. "You sure? Because we know you write songs. And poems. And you definitely know everything about Y/N—"

"Okay, dude, chill," Mark interrupts, looking bewildered. "What’s going on?"

You exhale, rubbing your temple. "Someone’s been leaving me gifts. Creepy ones. This music box was the latest, and since you’re literally the most musically gifted person I know, I thought—" You hesitate. "I thought maybe it was you."

Mark stares at the box for a moment before shaking his head. "It’s not me."

"Not even a little?" Haechan presses.

Mark sighs. "Look, yeah, I write songs. And sure, I might notice things. Like when you change your coffee order or cut your hair. Maybe I think you’re really cute. But that doesn’t mean I’m stalking you."

Haechan raises a skeptical brow. "Then what about your latest poetry post? The one about ‘loving from afar’?"

Mark’s expression shifts. His ears turn red.

Oh.

You narrow your eyes. "Mark?"

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "That wasn’t about you, okay?"

Haechan gasps, dramatic as ever. "Then who?"

Mark hesitates, then mutters, "My ex."

You and Haechan exchange a look.

"Oh," you say.

"Oh," Haechan echoes, slightly disappointed. "So you’re the heartbroken one, not the creepy one."

Mark shoots him a glare. "Obviously."

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "Okay. Sorry for accusing you. This whole thing is just messing with my head."

Mark softens. "Yeah, I get it. But seriously, if someone’s messing with you, you should be careful."

You nod, but your mind is already racing ahead.

The moment you step into your apartment, you feel it.

Something is waiting for you again.

Your breath catches as your eyes land on the small, folded piece of paper slipped under your door. The edges are slightly frayed, as if it had been torn from a notebook in a rush.

Haechan picks it up before you can. His fingers brush over the paper before carefully unfolding it. His eyes scan the words, his expression darkening.

You take the page from him and read:

"I see you even when you don’t see me.I wonder if you know how much you mean to me.If I could just tell you—”

The words stop abruptly, the last sentence unfinished.

And at the bottom, only a single initial is signed:

“R.”

You stare at it, heart hammering. "R."

Haechan exhales. "Renjun."

It makes sense. Jaemin had mentioned Renjun having your picture. And now this, a love confession, hesitant and unfinished.

You swallow hard. "We need to talk to him."

Haechan nods. "Before another one of these shows up."

Renjun is easy to find.

The art studio on campus is practically his second home, and sure enough, when you and Haechan arrive, he’s hunched over a sketchbook, completely lost in his work. His pencil moves in steady strokes, the faintest furrow between his brows as he concentrates.

Haechan leans in. “Bet he’s sketching you right now.”

You elbow him before clearing your throat. “Renjun.”

Renjun jumps, startled, before snapping his sketchbook shut. “Oh—hey. What are you guys doing here?”

Haechan plucks the journal page from your grasp and drops it onto his desk. “Care to explain this?”

Renjun’s gaze flickers to the torn-out page. He lets out a sharp inhale, as his shoulders start tensing.

“So it is yours.”

Renjun stays silent for a beat too long before he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Where did you get this?”

“It was slipped under my door,” you say carefully. “You signed it with ‘R.’”

Haechan crosses his arms. “Looks real bad, dude.”

Renjun lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s more of a nervous laugh than a humorous one. “Yeah… I can see that.”

Your pulse quickens. “So you did write it?”

Another pause. Then, finally, he nods. “Yeah. But not for you.”

You blink. “What?”

Renjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I did write that confession. But it’s old…I wrote it last year, for someone else.” He taps the page, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I threw this out months ago. I have no idea how you ended up with it.”

Haechan whistles low. “Okay, that’s actually kinda messed up.”

Renjun shakes his head. “ If someone dug this up just to mess with you… That’s not romantic. That’s obsessive.”

You grip the edge of the desk. “Then what about those photos you took of me? 

Renjun looks at you, his expression not wavering, “I take photos of everyone. It’s practice for more naturalistic portrayals of human figures.”

A chill runs down your spine.

If Renjun didn’t leave the page for you… then the real admirer wasn’t just watching you. If they had gotten their hands on Renjun’s photos then…

They were watching everyone.

That night, you barely sleep.

Renjun’s words keep replaying in your mind. ‘That’s not romantic. That’s obsessive.’

The pieces aren’t fitting together. The gifts, the messages, the calculated way they’re being delivered. This isn’t just someone with a crush. This is someone who has been planning this.

You’re still lost in thought when you hear it.

A soft thud outside your door.

Slowly, you sit up, heart pounding in your ears. Haechan, asleep on your couch, stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. You swallow hard and push yourself to your feet. Step by step, you inch toward the door, pulse hammering with every movement.

You already know what’s waiting for you.

Another gift.

With trembling hands, you open the door.

Sitting on the welcome mat is a small, heart-shaped box, identical in size to the one that held the music box. But this time, the deep red velvet is stained. Dark splotches sinking into the fabric, like something wet had been resting there before drying.

Your stomach turns.

Slowly, you pick it up. It’s heavier than you expect.

You hesitate. Then, you lift the lid.

Inside, cushioned in soft silk, isn’t chocolate.

It’s a tooth.

A human tooth.

Your throat felt dry as you wanted to retch in disgust, while the box nearly slips from your hands. Your vision blurs as you stare at it, uncomprehending, unwilling to believe what you’re seeing.

Beneath the tooth, there’s a note.

"Now you’re mine."

Your fingers shake as you unfold the small slip of paper.

And that’s when you see it.

The handwriting.

It’s Haechan’s.

Your body goes cold.

Behind you, the couch creaks as he shifts in his sleep.

And you realize—

You’re trapped inside your apartment.

With him.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your heartbeat thunders in your ears.

Every nerve in your body screams at you to move. But you’re frozen. The weight of the realization crashes over you in suffocating waves.

It was him.

It was always him.

A slow creak fills the silence. The sound of someone shifting.

“Hm… you’re up?”

Your breath stutters as you whip around. Haechan is sitting up on the couch, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His voice is laced with drowsiness, but his gaze—when it lands on you—is sharp.

Too sharp.

His eyes drop to the box in your hands. He sees the note. The tooth. And then… he smiles.

A lazy, knowing smile.

Your stomach twists. “Haechan…”

He tilts his head, still watching you. “You don’t look happy to see your gift. But don’t worry I’ve improved on it.”

Your grip tightens on the box. “Why?”

Haechan exhales through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just asked something ridiculous. “Come on, Y/N. You’re smart. You’ve been smart this whole time. Figuring out clues, questioning the right people.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Except you never questioned me.”

You take a step back. “You helped me.”

“I guided you.” He corrects, his voice smooth. “I made sure you followed the right trail. I led you to suspects just to watch your reactions. Watch you look at them instead of me.” His smile widens, his dimples deep but unsettling. “And you fell for it. Every time.”

Your skin crawls. “The rose. The music box. The torn-out page?”

“All me,” he confirms easily. “Jaemin? Mark? Renjun? They were never real threats. Just distractions. I needed to make sure your eyes weren’t on me until the right moment.”

“And the tooth?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Haechan’s smile fades slightly, his expression unreadable. “That one’s special.” His fingers brush over his lower lip, and something dark flickers behind his gaze. “A part of me. It’s yours now.”

No way.

"Now we match."

A sick realization slithers through you.

Haechan… pulled out his own tooth.

For you. 

A cold sweat prickles down your spine. “You’re insane.”

Haechan only grins. “I’m in love.”

You feel the blood drain from your face.

He sighs, standing up slowly. “I knew you wouldn’t understand right away. That’s why I took my time. I sent gifts and gave you a story to follow.” His voice softens, almost affectionate. “I wanted to watch you figure it out. I wanted to see the exact moment you realized it’s always been me.”

He takes a step forward.

And you take a step back.

His eyes flicker with amusement. “Still running from me?”

Your fingers curl into fists.

You need to get out.

Now.

Haechan watches you like a predator sizing up its prey. His smile is still there, but now, you can see it for what it truly is. A mask. A carefully crafted performance. And you were his favorite audience.

Then, he moves.

Slow, deliberate. Like he has all the time in the world. From his pocket, he pulls out a small velvet box. A jewelry box. He rolls it between his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, before sliding it across the coffee table toward you. “I saved the best for last,” he murmurs.

You don’t want to look.

But you do.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the box, flipping it open. Inside, nestled in dark velvet, are a pair of earrings.

The charms dangle from delicate gold hooks, polished smooth. But even in the dim light of your apartment, you can see them for what they are.

Teeth.

Human teeth.

Your stomach twists violently.

Haechan hums, tilting his head. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I worked so hard on these.” His voice drops into something softer, almost coaxing. “You’ll wear them, won’t you?”

Your breath comes in shallow gasps.

You need to get out.

Haechan sees it before you even move. His lips curl into a knowing smirk, and then—

The lights flicker.

A click.

Your front door.

Locked.

Your heart slams against your ribs. “Haechan—”

He only smiles, stepping closer.

“Shh,” he soothes. “It’s Valentine’s Day, baby.”

A flickering TV screen bathes the darkened room in cold, artificial light. The newsroom anchor, a solemn-looking woman, speaks in a measured, professional tone.

"Breaking news tonight—local authorities have launched an investigation into the disappearance of Y/N L/N, last seen on February 14th. Friends report that they were searching for a secret admirer who had been leaving a series of mysterious gifts. However, they never returned home. If you have any information regarding their whereabouts, please contact—"

The report continues, but the sound is drowned out by the hum of a familiar tune.

A figure strolls past the display window of an electronics store, hands tucked casually into his pockets. His hoodie shields most of his face, but the dim glow of the screens flickers against his features.

Haechan.

A soft, lilting hum escapes his lips.

"My funny valentine…"

He walks on, disappearing into the city’s shadows.

The TV screen flickers.

The missing person poster flashes across the screen.

“The case remains open.”

“For now.”

me when i basically lied in the summary but not really 🫶🤗 love u guys too !!

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[bang-chan-my-man]

nct jaehyun ~

[cigsaftersuh]

my youth, your kitchen

chapter 25 .ᐟ ૮ them. ྀིა

𐙚 pairing: non-idol! jeno x f! reader (.◜◡◝)

𐙚 genre: slice of life + strangers to friends to lovers

𐙚 in which y/n, a pre-med student, who loves to cook & feed people, meets jeno, the quiet sports science major with a soft smile, and discovers that the way to someone’s heart really is through their gastrointestinal tract, their stomach.

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ㅡ my youth, your kitchen.

with love,

© cigsaftersuh

ʚ taglist - open ɞ

@t-102 @niniiflwr @dudekiss3r @defzcl @stqrgr7 @imalwaysjeno @jeongjaeleftbicep @rubiiisyeon @jae10velies @cookydream @222low @dearlyminhyung @mmjhh1998 @gukuwii @hyucksunset @chenlesfeetpic @urlocalbeaner5 @taeeflwrr @fullhyucksunny @hyuksworld @nmmsmari @jeonghansshitester @hyuckleberriii @yukisroom97 @zgzgzh @tannieflix @olladecaramelos @haelvrty @nujeskz @kukkurookkoo @remgeolli @sinsgaybutthatsokay @hyunjinswifetingzz @axo-l0tl @blondiedae @jae-n0 @zhongzn @nahyuckers @katsulovee @minkyuncutie @gomdoleemyson @joonsprettygf @ne0sgotmyback @sunghoonsgfreal @minkyuntie @joonsprettygf @413ktz

[nctinthehouse]

afternoon pick-me-up

❝ pairing: barista!reader x Jaehyun — genre: fluff — wc: 0.6k — ⚠️ warning(s): none — a/n: happy jaehyun day!! 🍑 a little something for jaehyun’s birthday! damn i actually miss him :(( ❞

It’s currently late afternoon. All you can hear is pitter patter of rain against the windows accompanied by chill café music in the background.

Usually, you would be dealing with the aftermath of a lunchtime rush. Sometimes, it can get really busy during those times. However, today wasn’t much of a rush at all. Maybe because it’s been pouring down since early this morning.

You haven’t really got anything to do so you just decided to check your phone for a little.

You glance up as you hear the door open and spot a familiar figure coming in.

He’s somewhat a regular customer, probably orders a drink, two or three times a week. Usually either the same or you notice that he takes a little time, staring at the menu, maybe thinking he should venture out a little with something different.

He’s quite a happy chap whenever you see him and, you think he’s cute too.

You really want to know his name and ask for his number, but, you being you, you absolutely do not have the courage to do so. Especially with someone so handsome and probably out of his league. And usually, it’s quite busy whenever he’s here, but today, right now, it’s very quiet. Probably because it’s pouring outside. Perhaps today’s the day you pluck up the courage and spark up a little conversation with him?

You sometimes wonder what he does for work. Is he a model? Could be, especially with a face like that.

You spot him finally making his way over to you as he decides what to get.

“Hi!”, you say with a smile on your face. “What can I get for you today?”

“Hey!” He responds with a beaming smile as always, whenever he’s here. “Um, can I get an iced latte please?”

“Sure! Anything else?”

You notice his facial expression slight changes, to a hesitate one it looks like but you ignore it.

“Um yeah…” his voice comes out a little hoarse so he clears his throat. “C-can I also get your number, please?”

You stare at him with wide eyes, blinking at him a few times, not expecting that. “W-what?”

The guy repeats his question, seemingly with confidence this time. “Can I get your number, please? I-it’s just that I think you’re really cute and you seem like a really sweet person. I’ve always wanted to talk to you. I mean, other than you taking my order, but, I know it can get quite busy here so I don’t want to disturb you. I mean… It’s okay if you say no-!”

You butt him in mid-sentence. “What? No, no! It’s cool!”

He looks at you with a beaming smile on his face again; dimples popping out in view. Gosh, you just want to poke his dimples.

“Thank you…” he takes his phone out and passes it to you so you can write your name and number. You pass his phone back and looks at your name and number.

“Thanks… uh, Y/N.” he smiles. “Cute.”

You let out a small chuckle.

“I’m Jaehyun by the way. Nice to meet you!” He reaches out his hand, and you reach back, shaking hands in unison as you both chuckle.

“Nice to meet you too!”

“So, Y/N, I’ll call you, or text. Whichever you prefer.”

“Sounds good”, you say with a smile.

“Great! I’ll, uh, see you around” he gives you a wink. You give him a small wave and he does the same back, you watch him walk out of the store.

You kind of stare at the door for a while, thinking back to what just happened. A slight blush forms on your cheeks, and you softly tap them with the tips of your fingers, trying to stop yourself from blushing even further. Then suddenly, you had a thought.

“Wait, did he just order a drink and walk out without one?”

As you get lost in thoughts, you suddenly feel a buzz in your pocket and take out your phone and see a text from an unknown number.

“Forget about the drink haha, I just wanted your number today :)”

masterlist

© 2025 nctinthehouse — All Rights Reserved.

[urichilsworld]

*insert loud barking noise*

[zeroseuniverse]

Got Your Back

Word Count: 500 Summary: “I have hobbies,” he replies, scrolling on his phone. “Sleeping doesn’t count.” Pairing: Park Jisung X Reader

Navigation

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, barely glancing up from where you’re wrapping a patient’s wrist.

Jisung, your partner of two years and the only person you trust to have your back in a moving ambulance, blinks at you. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a ticking time bomb.”

“To be fair, you kind of are.” He gestures vaguely to your whole existence.

You huff. “One emotional outburst during a high-stress call does not make me a liability.”

Jisung makes a thoughtful noise. “Wasn’t just one.”

You glare at him, but your patient—a teenage skateboarder who thought he was Tony Hawk—snickers. You press a little harder than necessary on the bandage. “And you, hold still.”

Jisung wisely suppresses a smile and helps you secure the gauze. When the call is done, and you’re back in the ambulance, he tosses you a protein bar.

“Eat.”

You take it but glare at him anyway. “Stop parenting me.”

“I’m not parenting,” he says easily, adjusting his seatbelt. “I just know you get even more insufferable when you’re hungry.”

You make a noise of protest but tear the wrapper open. “Why are you so annoying?”

“Born this way.”

The radio crackles, dispatch calling out another emergency. Jisung looks at you. “Ready?”

You grin, already securing your gloves. “Always.”

Being a paramedic isn’t just a job—it’s your whole life. It has to be.

You and Jisung have seen it all. Car crashes, heart attacks, burns, shootings. You’ve saved lives together, and you’ve lost them together.

The first time you lost a patient, Jisung sat with you on the station steps, handing you a cup of gas station coffee. He didn’t say anything, just let you process.

“I should’ve done more,” you had whispered.

“We did everything we could,” he had replied, quiet but firm. “And we’ll keep doing it.”

You had looked at him then—your rookie partner who had somehow become your closest friend.

And now, two years later, he still looks at you the same way. Like he gets it. Like he gets you.

After a grueling 12-hour shift, you and Jisung collapse onto the couch at the station, your legs propped up on his lap.

“We need hobbies,” you mumble into your hoodie sleeve.

“I have hobbies,” he replies, scrolling on his phone.

“Sleeping doesn’t count.”

He considers this. “Then no, I don’t have hobbies.”

You laugh, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. “One day, we’re gonna retire, and what then? We’ll have nothing to do but drink bad coffee and reminisce about the good old days.”

Jisung hums. “I mean, as long as you’re still around, I think I’ll be fine.”

It’s said so casually that it takes you a second to process. When you do, your stomach does something annoying.

You peek one eye open to look at him, but he’s still scrolling, unfazed.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll think about it later.

For now, you’re just grateful that through all the chaos, through all the emergencies—you have him.

[ming1m1ng]

fuck valentines day happy birthday jaehyun

[petaldos]

[kiszjuli]

・── love or leave .ᐟ (L.TY)

(태용) ; fem!reader x lee taeyong

──in which love has always felt like a risk you’re not willing to take. but taeyong was someone who makes it feel safe, maybe even possible. falling for him was never part of the plan, and you don’t know how to let him stay.

genre. angst. romance. self sabotage. ; tags. bittersweet romance. slightly suggestive. patient!taeyong x guarded!reader. emotional conflict. ; w.c 3.6k

you’re not completely sure when taeyong became part of your daily routine. it wasn’t something you planned, wasn’t something you consciously let happen. but somehow, he’s just… there. always.

it starts with small things.

texting turns into late-night calls, where his voice is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep. casual hangouts turn into hours spent in his or your apartment, legs tangled on his couch as he absentmindedly traces shapes on your knee while talking about everything and nothing. the way he looks at you lingers longer than it should, and sometimes—only sometimes—you catch yourself staring back.

you don’t talk about what this is. you don’t ask if it means anything.

but you feel it.

one evening, you’re at his place, half-draped over his bed, scrolling through your phone while he sits on the floor, leaning against the edge of the mattress.

“you’ve been quiet today.” his voice is soft, but it still pulls you from your thoughts.

you blink, turning your head to look at him. “just tired.”

he hums, unconvinced. “tired, or overthinking?”

you huff a small laugh, tossing your phone onto the bed and sitting up. “since when did you become an expert on me?”

taeyong tilts his head, considering. “since you started letting me in.”

his words shouldn’t make your heart skip, but they do.

there’s something in the way he says it, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. and maybe it is. because you have let him in. more than anyone else.

it’s dangerous. and you don’t particularly like it.

but when he shifts onto the bed beside you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face, you don’t pull away.

not yet.

—

the first time taeyong kisses you, you let him.

you don’t think about what it means, don’t let yourself process how natural it feels when his lips move against yours, slow and careful, like he’s making sure you have every chance to pull away. but you don’t. instead, you let yourself sink into him, let yourself get lost in the warmth of his hands cradling your face, in the quiet way he breathes your name like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

for once, you don’t overthink. you just let it happen.

and maybe that’s the problem. because in the days that follow, you realize that one moment, one night of letting yourself fall, has the power to undo everything you’ve built to protect yourself.

you’ve never been the type for relationships. too messy, too complicated, too much of a risk. feelings were unpredictable, and love? love was just another word for inevitable disappointment. you had learned that lesson before, and you weren’t about to relearn it now.

but taeyong makes it hard.

he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand more than you’re willing to give. instead, he lingers; waiting, watching, showing up when you least expect him but somehow always when you need him. he’s steady, unwavering in his patience, in the way he lets you keep your distance but never lets you forget he’s there.

and that scares you more than anything.

because if there’s one thing you’ve always been good at, it’s running. but taeyong?

he’s the first person who makes you want to stop.

—

the room is dim, the quiet only broken by the low music in the background and the occasional sound of traffic from outside. you and taeyong were sitting close on the couch, your shoulders brushing, your legs just barely touching. it’s intimate without being obvious, the kind of closeness that feels more like an unspoken invitation than anything else.

his gaze is focused on you, a little too intense, but not in a way that makes you want to pull away. Instead, it pulls you in. you find yourself looking at his lips for just a second too long, and when you catch him staring back, the air between you shifts.

“you’re thinking about something,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost teasing.

you try to act normal, shifting in your seat to pretend like nothing’s changed. “just lost in thought.”

he doesn’t buy it. his hand moves toward you, slow and careful like always, until his fingers lightly graze the back of your hand. the touch is brief but enough to make your pulse spike. you’re frozen for a split second, but then you meet his gaze, and there’s no mistaking the desire behind it.

“you sure? you don’t seem like you’re lost in thought,” he says, his voice quieter now.

before you can answer, he shifts just a little closer, his knee brushing against yours. it was subtle, but it sends a shiver down your spine. he’s so close, you can feel the heat radiating off his body, his presence surrounding you in a way that feels both comforting and dangerous.

his hand, still resting near yours, moves just a fraction closer, his fingers lightly brushing the inside of your wrist. the touch is soft, testing, and you feel a tightness in your chest. you look up at him, heart pounding, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he feels the same pressure building between you.

“you’re making it hard to focus,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper.

his other hand reaches out, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, his touch featherlight. you breathe in sharply, your chest tightening at the intimate gesture.

“taeyong…” your voice is barely audible, more of a breath than anything else.

he leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. not yet. instead, he waits, and the space between you feels charged, filled with all the things neither of you is saying.

“i don’t want to rush,” he says, his lips almost brushing against your skin as he speaks. “but i can’t stay this close to you and not feel what you’re making me feel.”

your breath hitches at his words. his hand moves down your arm tenderly, until his fingers curl around your wrist. you feel like you can’t breathe, like the world outside this bubble between you two doesn’t matter anymore.

he leans in just a little more, his nose brushing against yours, and in that moment, you’re not sure who’s waiting for who to make the next move.

the space between you two feels electric now. your heartbeat picks up as taeyong’s gaze lingers on you—eyes intense, searching yours as if trying to read every unspoken word. his hand, still resting on your wrist, feels like it’s grounding you, but at the same time, it’s pulling you closer to him in a way you can’t ignore.

the closeness, the undeniable tension, makes everything seem slower.

his voice is low, almost a whisper. “i’m not pressuring you. but i won’t pretend i don’t want you. do you feel that too?”

your chest tightens at his words, the heat pooling in your stomach. it’s so easy to deny what you feel, to tell yourself it’s all just a passing moment. but the way he looks at you, the way his fingers move so gently against your skin, makes you feel like there’s no turning back.

you meet his gaze, swallowing hard. “and if i do?” the words feel like they slip out before you can even think.

taeyong doesn’t hesitate. he inches closer, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks, his voice a mixture of temptation and certainty. “then don’t fight it.”

and just like that, you stop thinking. you don’t resist. the moment you let go of all your self-control, his lips are on yours, soft at first, like he’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

but you don’t. your hands reach up on their own, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. the world around you fades, the only thing you’re aware of now is the way your bodies align, the way your heart beats in rhythm with his.

taeyong’s hand moves from your wrist to your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the warmth of his body, the way he’s just as eager for this moment as you are. he groans into the kiss, and it makes your stomach flip, that sound of raw desire, the heat building between you both.

when you break the kiss, both of you are panting lightly, your faces close enough to feel each other’s breath.

“are you sure?” taeyong’s voice is rougher now, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but you can see the desperation in his eyes.

you look at him, really look at him, and in that moment, something shifts. you know what you’re doing, what you’re about to let happen. it’s no longer about fighting it, about keeping your distance. it’s about giving into what’s in front of you—the intensity, the connection, the undeniable pull.

you nod, almost breathlessly. “i’m sure.”

and that’s all it takes. taeyong closes the distance again, pulling you to him, this time with urgency. his hands are everywhere, slipping under your shirt, moving to the small of your back, holding you like he never wants to let go. you let him, leaning into every touch, every kiss, as the barrier between you crumbles completely.

in this moment, you stop thinking about the consequences. you stop thinking about the future. all that matters is here, right now, with him.

—

it’s been two months.

two months since you let taeyong in, since you stopped overthinking for just one night and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have something real with him. his touch had felt like certainty, like something you could trust. his lips on yours, the way he held you so carefully yet so firmly, made you think that maybe you didn’t have to keep running.

but you did.

it started slow at first; little subtle things. unanswered texts, turning the other way when you spotted him in the hallway, pretending not to hear when he said your name. you told yourself it wasn’t intentional, that you were just busy, distracted, focused on more important things. but deep down, you knew better. you were retreating, putting up walls faster than he could break them down.

taeyong notices, of course he does. you see it in the way his smile falters when you barely acknowledge him, in the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but stops himself. he’s trying to be patient, to give you space, but you can feel the weight of his unspoken frustration. he doesn’t understand why you’re slipping away—not when things were good, not when he knows you felt it too.

but that’s exactly why you have to pull away. because it was good. too good. and good things don’t last, not for you.

so you shut him out before he can get any closer, before he can prove you wrong. before he can make you believe that love doesn’t always end in leaving.

but the worst part?

he’s still trying. and you don’t know how much longer you can pretend you don’t want him to.

—

in the beginning, you try to ignore it. the way taeyong makes you feel safe. the way he remembers the smallest details about you, like how you can’t sleep without background noise or how you tap your fingers against your thigh when you’re lost in thought. the way he looks at you like he’s already decided you’re someone worth staying for.

but the closer he gets, the more you feel the panic set in.

it’s not his fault. taeyong doesn’t do anything wrong. if anything, he does everything right. and that’s the problem. he makes it too easy, too safe, too real. and real means something to lose.

so your only choice was to pull away like you always did.

you first take a little longer to reply to his messages. you cancel plans with flimsy excuses, blaming school, work, exhaustion—anything but the real reason. you turn your head when his hand brushes yours, pretend not to notice when he hesitates before letting it fall back to his side.

but taeyong isn’t stupid. he notices.

“you’re avoiding me.” it’s not a question when he finally says it, standing in front of you with a look you can’t quite decipher—somewhere between hurt and frustration.

you swallow hard, willing yourself to meet his gaze. “i’m just busy.”

he doesn’t buy it. “you weren’t too busy before.”

there’s no accusation in his tone, but that almost makes it worse. he’s not mad. he’s confused. he doesn’t understand why you’re slipping away when he’s done nothing but be there.

you want to tell him the truth—that you don’t do relationships, that letting someone in means giving them the power to hurt you, that it’s easier to leave before you get left.

but you don’t.

instead, you give him the same practiced smile you’ve given everyone who’s ever tried to get too close.

“things change, taeyong.”

and with that, you turn and walk away—ignoring the way your chest aches, ignoring the fact that he doesn’t try to stop you.

—

it’s late when you finally drag yourself back to your apartment, exhaustion clinging to your bones. you barely have the energy to pull your keys from your bag before the door swings open from the inside.

taeyong stands in the doorway, arms crossed, lips pressed together in something between relief and exasperation.

“do you know what time it is?” he asks.

you blink, startled, still processing the fact that he’s here. “how did you get in?”

“your roommate let me in hours ago. i was about to call the cops.”

you roll your eyes, kicking off your shoes. “dramatic.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t move from the doorway as you step inside. instead, he watches you, gaze tracing over your face, your slumped shoulders.

“you didn’t answer my texts.”

you sigh, rubbing at your temple. “i had a long day. my phone died.”

taeyong exhales, running a hand through his hair. “you could’ve told me you were staying late. i was worried.”

the words make your stomach twist, in the way they always do when he says things like this. like he cares.

you avoid his eyes, moving toward the couch, but he catches your wrist before you get too far. “have you eaten?”

you shake your head, barely noticing the way his fingers tighten for just a second before he lets go.

“sit down.” he doesn’t give you a choice, nudging you toward the couch before disappearing into the kitchen.

you don’t protest. mostly because you’re too tired, but also because it’s him. and when it’s taeyong, letting him take care of you doesn’t feel like a weakness. it just felt like breathing.

a few minutes later, he returns with a bowl of steaming ramen, setting it down on the table before crouching in front of you. he looks at you for a moment before his gaze settles on your legs. his hands find your ankles, gently pulling your legs into his lap as he starts rolling up the hem of your sweatpants.

“what are you—”

“your knee,” he says, examining the small bruising cut near your shin. “how’d this happen?”

you blink, barely remembering the way even hurt it earlier. “tae, it’s nothing.”

he clicks his tongue, reaching for the first aid kit he must’ve pulled from your bathroom. “you always say that.”

you watch as he dabs at the bruise, his touch careful, like he thinks you’ll break if he’s not. the room is quiet, save for the sound of the rain against the window.

after a moment, he glances up, something softer in his gaze now. “you have to stop running yourself into the ground.”

you huff a laugh. “says the guy who forgets to eat when he’s working on something.”

he smiles, small but fond. “yeah, but i have you to remind me.”

your chest tightens. because sometimes, in moments like this, when he’s looking at you like this, you almost let yourself believe it could be easy.

but you know better than that.

—

falling for taeyong was never part of the plan.

it wasn’t supposed to happen—not to you, not with him. you had always been good at keeping your distance, at keeping things casual and untangled. love was messy, love was unpredictable, and you didn’t do things that had the power to hurt you

“you act like you don’t care, but i think you do,” he had said once, leaning against your doorframe, eyes warm with something you refused to name. “i think you just don’t know what to do with it.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “i don’t do relationships, taeyong.”

“yeah?” he tilted his head, lips twitching. “then what do you do?”

you opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come as easily as they used to.

because by then, it wasn’t so simple anymore.

it was him showing up outside your class just because. it was the way he remembered the little things you told him, the things most people let slip through the cracks. it was how he never pushed too hard, even when he knew you were running—he just stayed close enough to catch you if you fell.

and you hated it.

hated how good it felt. hated that it made you want things you’d spent years convincing yourself weren’t meant for you.

so you buried it. ignored the pull, brushed it off, acted like none of it mattered.

but taeyong saw through it. he always did.

“one day, you’re gonna have to stop running,” he told you, voice quieter than usual, gaze steady. “and i just hope i’m still here when you do.”

you laughed it off back then. called him dramatic. but the weight of his words settled somewhere deep, in the part of you that wondered if he was right.

and now, standing in the rain, his words cutting through the air like something final, you realize.

that day might already be here.

the rain starts slow. soft droplets pattering against the pavement, catching the glow of streetlights. you barely notice it at first, too caught up in the suffocating weight of your own thoughts, in the way your hands shake as you cross your arms over your chest.

taeyong stands a few steps away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes are the only thing you can focus on. dark, searching, pleading.

“you’re really doing this?” his voice is quiet, but it still cuts through the night air.

you don’t answer right away. because if you do, if you try to say anything, you might break.

taeyong exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you can’t keep doing this. pushing me away, acting like i don’t—like we don’t—matter.”

your throat tightens. “taeyong, you knew what this was from the start.”

his eyes darken. “no. i knew what you said it was. that doesn’t mean i ever believed you.”

you turn your head, staring out at the street, the neon reflections in the puddles. you wish he didn’t know you so well, wish he couldn’t see the cracks forming in your walls.

it begins to rain a little harder, your clothes darkening with the water droplets.

“you always do this,” he continues, stepping closer. “every time things start to feel real, you pull back. you tell me it’s nothing, that it’s not serious, that we shouldn’t—” he stops himself, running a hand through his damp hair. “but then you look at me like this, and i know you don’t mean it.”

your breath stutters.

because he’s right. you don’t mean it. but saying that would change everything.

“i told you from the beginning that i don’t do relationships.”

taeyong lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “yeah? and yet here we are.”

here. the place you never let yourself reach. the part where things start to matter, where things get messy and complicated, where someone has the power to hurt you.

you’ve spent years convincing yourself that love was never meant for you; not in the way other people experience it. it’s unpredictable, uncontrollable. a force that pulls people in, only to let them crash. you’ve seen it too many times before. you’ve felt it before, the sting of expectations unraveling, the weight of good things turning sour.

so you set rules. you keep your distance. you keep things easy, temporary, untangled. and taeyong was supposed to be the same.

but he isn’t. he never was.

taeyong is patient, steady in a way that makes your chest ache. he looks at you like you’re something worth waiting for, something worth believing in. and that scares you more than anything.

because what happens when he realizes you don’t know how to be what he needs? that you don’t know how to hold onto something without eventually ruining it?

“if you’re scared, just say it,” he says, voice softer now, almost pleading. “if you don’t know what you want, tell me. but don’t stand there and pretend like i’m the only one feeling this.”

you swallow hard. you want to say something, anything, but the words won’t come.

so you do what you always do.

you take a step back. just one. but it’s enough.

taeyong’s jaw tightens. the rain is falling harder now, soaking into his sweater, dripping from his hair. still, he doesn’t move.

“if you walk away now,” he says, quieter this time, steadier, “don’t expect me to still be here when you come back.”

your breath catches.

because for the first time, you realize—he really might mean it.

—

▸ no longer valentine’s day so here comes the angst :)

▸ may or may not make a part two….only if you guys want it !

[taexoxosgf]

LEE MARK FIC REC LIST

s, smut | f, fluff | a, angst | suggestive is noted

give all these authors so much love please!!!! i had to include as much as possible!! supa long fic rec list ;) recommendation masterlist here

this is (not) easy *personal fav [ friends with benefits!mark x fem! reader ] s,f,a

sweet cream, cold brew [ nerd barista!mark x fem!reader ] s,f

raw. [ established relationship ] s

delphinium , part two [ virgin religious!mark x pagan reader ] s,f

the marriage and baby project [ fake dating au, roommate au ] s,f,a

sunday kind of love [ frat!mark x inexperienced/soft fem!reader ] s,f

flipside [ street racing au, strangers to lovers au ]

cherry flavored thoughts [ perv nerd!mark x popular fem!reader ] s

gorgeous [ college/football au ] s,f

follow through. [ bestfriends to lovers ft. haechan ] s

eyes on you. [ roommate's brother!mark x fem!reader ] s

watch me [ barista!mark x fem!reader, voyeurism ] s

pretty boy [ shy!mark x openminded/playful fem!reader ] s

surviving no nut november [ mark x fem! reader ft. haechan ] s

safety zone [ university au, best friends to lovers, roommates au ] f,a, suggestive

spider boy; 이민형 [ spiderman!mark x fem!reader, established relationship ] f, suggestive

closed doors. [brother's friend!mark x fem!reader, roommate au ] s

jealousy [ almost step-siblings au ] s,a

deal with it [ established relationship, argument au ] s

real talk [ line chef!mark x fuckgirl!reader ] s,f

on edge [ boyfriend's brother!mark x fem!reader, infedelity au ] s

play with me [ bestfriend!mark x fem! reader, car sex ] s,f

give me the greenlight [ street racing au, childhood friends to lovers ] s,f,a

nervously in love [ established relationship ] s,f

across the room *self promo hehe [ idol!mark x idol fem!reader ] s

roomie high [ stoner roommate!mark x fem!reader ] s

suck my kiss [mark x bandmate fem!reader ] s,f

may i be blunt? [stoner!mark x fem!reader ] s

the best man. [ stranger!mark x fem!reader, wedding au ] s

elevator pitch [ frat boy!mark x fem!reader ] f,a

craving you like the devil craves heaven [ priest!mark x succubus!reader ] s

kiss u right now [ best friend!mark x fem!reader ] s,f

this is new [ loss of virginity au ] s,f

rule breaker [ rockstar au, band au ] s

limit. [ gryffindor!mark x fem!reader ] s

mixtape moans. [ shy!mark x cheerleader!reader ] s

make me sin [ churchboy!mark x fem!reader, childhood friends au ] s,f,a

mark me in your heart [ drug dealer!mark x bartender!reader ] s,a

monetary value. [ rich kid!mark x rich kid!reader ] s,f,a

[sunshyni]

— my oh my. Johnny Suh

A leaked message stating the obvious about Johnny was enough for you to finally have him.

johnny x Reader | Fluff but suggestive 🤭 | w.c: 1k

— Oh my God, those jeans are killer — Jaehyun started, practically squirming on the couch in the living room of the frat house where he, Johnny, Doyoung, and a few other guys lived. It was crazy how magnetic your presence was; every eye in the room turned to you when you walked in, like it was automatic. — What's her deal, huh?

— Aww, are you like this ‘cause she turned you down? — Johnny asked, sipping a beer and watching you, not like a creep, just admiring. You really were stunning, not only in looks but in brains, too. You worked part-time at a luxury store at the airport and were always looking flawless, though Johnny figured you’d still look flawless even with messy hair.

— Go on, alright? Everyone knows she’s into you, lover boy — Jaehyun pouted, which made Johnny grin and pinch his cheek like he was a little kid; with that look, he actually did look like a baby.

— Don’t play the victim. You’ll have plenty of girls chasing you — he rolled his eyes, and Johnny gave him a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder, then walked over to you, touching your waist softly when he reached you, his hand brushing against your soft skin peeking out from your crop top. — Hey.

— Hey — you practically choked out. Johnny grinned, leaving you a bit speechless. Your natural hair and the low-rise jeans you wore made you look absolutely perfect, but the blush on your cheeks, even before you’d had a drink, gave you an angelic vibe Johnny found himself totally obsessed with.

— You were amazing in the seminar today — he had to say something. You knew that now everyone knew about your crush on him, thanks to that accidentally leaked message to the whole school. It wasn’t anything sexual, but it did make him sound like some Greek god, which Johnny found funny and cute, even if he was already confident in himself. It was the first time someone had complimented him like that.

— Ah, I had to take a shot just before it started so I wouldn’t stammer — you admitted, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. How close were two people supposed to be when they weren’t actually a thing? Because right now, you felt incredibly close to him and wanted to laugh nervously. — John… about those messages, I didn’t mean…

— Nuzzle your face in my chest? You can do that — you couldn’t help it and laughed, covering your face with your hands like a shy little girl. You’d vented to the wrong person, that was clear, or your messages wouldn’t have been leaked, but everyone agreed with your words, including Johnny himself. He held you, guiding you back until your back met the wall. — What else do you want to do that you didn’t describe in those messages?

— Should I say it? — you smiled playfully, and Johnny smiled back, hooking a finger through the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you closer. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the green light you gave for him to touch you, but he pulled you a bit closer by the waistband and leaned down to kiss your neck, licking the skin, sucking, and lightly grazing his teeth.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips before you realized. You definitely loved flirting, touches, and making out; you’d never gone all the way, and you felt nervous about how skilled Johnny seemed to be with his mouth, his hands, his whole body, honestly.

— I’ve been wanting to get close to you for a while but always thought you were kinda untouchable — Johnny admitted against your skin, and you practically burst at his confession. You had a confident air, like you didn’t care about anyone’s opinion, but all you wanted was for Johnny to feel the same way.

— Maybe for other guys… but not for you — you said with a smile, and Johnny moved even closer, kissing your cheek, the corner of your lips, but never quite reaching where you wanted. He was teasing, and you knew it from the little smirk he’d flash between a firm squeeze and a soft press of his lips against your skin. — Oh, for heaven’s sake, John.

You grabbed his silver chain that peeked out from his shirt, pulled it free, and kissed him, hard, filled with want, like you were devouring each other against the wall near the frat house door. Johnny tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled back gently, letting you catch your breath, both of you breathing heavily.

— Come on — he said, taking your hand and leading you up the stairs. You followed, weaving past people with drinks in hand, bumping into a few on the way. Johnny opened his room door, which he likely shared with another guy, given the second bed on the right side.

It looked like a typical high school guy’s room, which was kind of cute. Johnny had a shelf full of comics, and his room had its own bathroom; on the doorframe, there was a pull-up bar you couldn’t help but admire, picturing the sight of a shirtless Johnny using it. You felt like a little girl, and maybe, with him, that’s exactly what you were.

— Astroboy? — you asked, playing with a little figurine on his shelf.

— It suits me, doesn’t it?

— Definitely, you’re a star.

You smiled, watching him sitting on the single bed, then followed, sitting across from him, kissing him slowly, your hands exploring his chest with calm. Somehow, Johnny got you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you had to kick off your shoes in the process, which made him chuckle against your lips. Johnny caressed your back as his mouth explored your neck, kissing your skin so delicately it felt like his lips were velvet.

— Johnny… — you began, and he immediately met your gaze. — Hold on, it’s all good. It’s just that… I’ve never…

— Never? — he knew exactly what you meant.

— Only once, almost… but I freaked out, and… — Johnny left a soft kiss on your forehead.

— It’s okay; we don’t have to do anything tonight.

— But I love making out — you said, pressing your bodies even closer, and Johnny grinned, thinking you were way too perfect to be real.

— Me too. So much.

@sunshyni. All rights reserved.

[catboyieejeno]

NEED MORE BF MARKKK

bf! mark would be so, so easy to love effortlessly.

Just imagine the way he’d show up on your first date—a little nervous but doing his best to hide it with that signature easygoing smile. He’d bring a hoodie or jacket for you “just in case it gets cold,” with that mix of boyish charm and thoughtfulness that makes your heart race. Might overdo it with the cologne ngl... but it's unbelievably endearing.

"Jeno. Smell this."

Jeno snorts, pushing it back. “Dude, I’m not smelling your sweatshirt.”

“Come on, man. Just smell it.” Mark insists, wiggling the fabric at him.

With a sigh, Jeno brings it to his nose and takes a cautious sniff—then immediately recoils, gagging and waving his hand in front of his face.

“Bro, did you dunk this in cologne?” He gasps, holding it at arm’s length. “She’s gonna need a gas mask just to survive.”

Mark frowns, glancing at the sweatshirt. “I thought it needed a couple sprays…”

As things get more serious, he’d make a habit of sending you little surprises that show he’s thinking of you. You’d find a random playlist from him waiting in your messages one day, labeled “For you” with the one giggling emoji, filled with tracks he thinks you’d love. He’d stay up late making it, mulling over how you’ll react to each song.

He’d invite you to hang out with his friends one weekend, blending you seamlessly into his life. When you’re there, you’d see his quiet, protective side come out—he’d stay close to you, keeping an arm around the back of your chair or brushing a hand over your shoulder to make sure you’re comfortable. He might not even realize he’s doing it, but everyone would notice the way he softens around you, the way he’s always got a careful eye on you, ensuring you're having a good time. If you so much as shiver, he’d immediately offer his jacket with a shy, “Here, just take it, okay?”

And if he sees that you’re having a rough day, he wouldn’t ask too many questions or push you to talk; he’d just show up with your favorite drink or snack, a hoodie, and some silly videos he’s saved just to see you laugh. When you’re ready to open up, he’d listen so intently, holding your hand, never interrupting.

When he’d kiss you, it would start out gentle, with him leaning in a little slowly, his eyes flicking to yours to make sure to watch how dazed you become when he gets so close. His lips would be soft, barely brushing against yours at first, before he’d press in a little deeper, savoring the feeling. He’d hold your face in his hands or let his thumb trace along your jaw, taking his time. He might laugh softly into the kiss, his hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer or just hold your hips, rubbing slow circles on your skin or squeezing if you make any kind of sound. God, hearing you hum or moan during a kiss would absolutely drive him insane.

"Just like that," he'd mumble, "I love the pretty sounds you make for me."

"You like it when I kiss you there?" and if you didn't answer, he'd let his hips hover, not giving you what you want.

"How about this?" A kiss on your shoulder, "Hmm?" another on your chest, "Is this okay?"

"Shit, baby, c'mere." if you've been kissing anywhere but his lips for too long, he always finds himself craving them.

His lips would be anywhere, on the corner of your lips, on your cheek, your jaw, your neck... fingers trailing on your waist and squeezing your flesh. I feel like he's on the shyer side when the two of you are doing mindless tasks or around friends, but for some reason, when he's so wrapped up in you in these private moments, he'd groan and whimper without restraint. There's a sliver of shyness left, a tell being his flushed skin and the way he'd bite his lips, but otherwise, he's giving you his all.

[ye4gerz]

‧˚⭒ pairing: jealous!bf!hyuck! x reader. ‧˚⭒ genre: smut! mentions of mark. (18+ MDNI.) ‧˚⭒ word count: 558 ‧˚⭒ cw: choking, exhibitionist hyuck, cursing, jealous/angry sex.

» read part two here.

boyfriend hyuck who has you pinned down on his bed. your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifts you up by your thighs, gripping them. his headboard rocking back and forth— hitting against the wall with every deep thrust he lets out on you. the room filled with the dirty wet sounds of his cock sinking into your insides and the lewd noises escaping your mouth.

what you forget for a second is the fact that his roommate, mark, is in the other room, sharing that same wall with donghyuck.

also, mark was home.

it dawned on you minutes ago that mark might have realized what could possibly be going on in the next room. your focus was too deep on donghyuck and his grunts against your neck, the harder he continued against you.

‘til the moment you heard mark’s door open, the sound of his footsteps growing closer against haechan’s door.

uh-oh.

you grow concerned for a second, thoughts roaming in your head. what if mark was listening to you two? what if he heard all the dirty sounds coming from hyucks room?

hyuck realizes your mind is elsewhere for a moment, and he brings his eyes to yours. “what’s the matter, baby? is everything alright?”

you nod, gulping. his concern is sweet, and the touch of his fingers against your face is reassuring. however, his thrusts never came to a stop.

you whimper and squeeze around him when you hear mark shuffling near the door.

“hyuck…” you eye the door, attempting to send the message to your boyfriend.

he looks back, a brow raised in confusion, “use your words, sweetheart.”

you look up at him desperately. he loves seeing your face scrunch up in pleasure by how he fucks you. pride washes over him knowing he’s the only one allowed to ruin you like this.

his eyes immediately snap up to yours, the minute the name escapes your mouth, his thrusts come to a full stop.

“mark…” you try to warn him, his previous thrusts so deep, your pleading sentence sounding more like a moan.

“what was that?” something dark possesses hyuck.

“m-mark…he’s listening….” you point to the door, sweating, as you felt the sudden lost of his cock inside you. you whine, missing his warmth.

suddenly his hand wraps around your throat, giving you a difficult time to take proper breaths. he slams his cock back into you deeper and harder, your eyes roll back in intense pleasure.

his hand still having a hold on your throat, only he’s cautious with the amount of pressure he applies. something dark is still living in his expression and his voice grows deeper, “don’t you ever moan another person’s name while i fuck you.”

you try to respond, unable to from the pure shock and pleasure you’re experiencing.

“fuck– respond when i talk to you. hm? do you understand?” his smile sinister, fully aware of the affect he has on you right now.

you nod your head quickly, “yes donghyuck…”

he clicks his tongue at you, “that sounds much better. now, let’s give him a good show.” he smirks, whispering against your ear. he continues to lift your legs over his shoulders again, repeatedly thrusting into your weak spot.

you lost count at how many orgasms he gave you that night, and so did mark.

[springseasonie]

Confession | LMH (M)

Best friend Mark x fem reader

Summary: you look beautiful and the time feels right, so he decides to confess.

Warnings: sexual content, big dick mark, unprotected sex, he's in love with you, he's also a bit of a freak, proofread (kinda)

Word count: 1,6k

Song recs: juno by Sabrina Carpenter

A/N: I wrote this on a whim bc I miss him and and need him in the least biblical way possible. Enjoy

"can I tell you something?" His breathy whisper tickled your ear, giving you goosebumps all over. Marks hands roamed your sides, his firm fingers pressing into your skin as you listen to his shaky breathing.

“tell me.”

“I really like you.” His lips press against your ear lobe, heat spreading in the lower parts of your body. His chest is pressed against yours, hearts beating in unison as he kisses the back of your ear down your neck. “I love you actually.”

“You love me?”

Mark doesn’t know if it was the alcohol that bought on this confession or maybe the fact that you just looked especially good that night. But it clearly didn’t matter, especially when your face was so close to his. You can’t keep focus, not knowing whether to look at his eyes or lips and he quickly too notice, simply making the decision for you.

His lips melt into yours, the calm sound of his heavy breathing and the fire place cracking making your stomach flutter. Mark moves his hands to your hips, pressing your pelvis against his. His lips tie into yours almost too perfectly like it's meant to be, tongue smoothly sliding into your mouth naturally.

“I need you,” you whine softly.”

Mark nods, quickly taking off his suit jacket and throwing it on the couch behind him. Your hands fly to his chest, tugging at his tie pulling it off. Mark pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead on yours. His eyes light up watching you unbutton his shirt, brows scrunched in a desperate attempt to get it off.

He cracks a smile feeling your hands run up his body right to back of his neck, pulling him in for another deep kiss while your fingers tangle in his hair. Mark sneaks his hands around you, resting his large palms on your ass. He can’t help himself, the feeling of your plush ass drives him insane. You whine feeling him squeeze you, making him damn near rock hard, and you can feel it. You can feel how hard he is for you, and you want it so badly.

Marks fingertips bunch your dress in his hands, fisting the fabric as he kisses you. “I want you to touch me baby,” he says softly.

That was all you needed, immediately shoving the man on the couch behind you. Mark fell with grace, his light brown hair coving his face in the most elegant way possible. The fire lot his face, his pretty brown eyes looking at you. Mark watches you bunch your dress at your hips, climbing on him to straddle his lap. He can’t keep his hands to himself, immediately pushing the fabric up your legs, gripping your thick thighs.

“fuck,” you sigh. He looks like a dream under you. The way the light from behind flickers against his features does wonders for you. You can’t hold back, wishing for this moment for a long time. Mark doesn’t stop you from unbuckling his belt and undoing his dress pants that are a little too big for him.

The silence is comforting, nothing but the sound of your shaky breath as you palm his hard cock through his boxers. You pump him slowly through the fabric, watching his face twist in pleasure.

“yes baby just like that,” he sighs in pleasure.

You could watch him all day if you could, but you can’t, not when you’re dying to feel him stretch you open. “do you have any condoms?”

Mark gulps, shaking his head. He thought you’d be completely turned off, but his lips parted when you reached into his boxers, soft hands wrapping around his shaft. Mark watches you pull him out the fabric, nearly moaning seeing the size of him.

“fuck I’ve waited so long for this,” you whisper. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, the way you pulled up your dress revealing that you were in fact not wearing anything underneath. Your breathing was erratic, too excited to see the way the man looked at you while your lifted your hips, pressing his tip to your pussy.

A gasp leaves your lips, brows furrowed as you sink down on his cock. His hands are on your back and hip, gripping the fabric of your dress as he watches himself disappear inside you. Your body is hot, not only from the fireplace but from the way he’s looking at you.

“that’s it baby, deep breaths,” he says softly, rubbing soothing circles on your thigh.

“you’re so big,” you whine softly. You press your hips down more, hands flying to his shoulders feeling him move deeper in you. He’s so overwhelming, but you can’t stop yourself from grinding, your body moving on Its own. “Fuck,” your whimper softly.

Marks grips your dress, pushing it further up your body. His breathing increases, heart shooting out of his chest as he watches you use him to pleasure yourself. You look so pretty in your formal attire, hair done, makeup done, wearing the necklace he bought for you. Your lips part, soft moans spilling as you moved your hips.

“God, I love you so much.” Mark tilts your chin down, kissing you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth. Your hips moved faster, moans falling into your mouth as he gripped your thigh tight. The kiss was hot and wet, both of your mouths absorbing the sinister sounds of pleasure. Mark pulls away from the kiss, your heavy panting becoming all the more noticeable.

“Just like that baby, you’re so good for me.”

Your body completely melted into his, hands gripping his shoulders tight. Mark loves the way your necklace falls into his face, you biting your lip softly as you ride him faster. Your whines turn into whimpers and moans, shaky sounds escaping your mouth just like he always wanted.

“Mark…oh my god.”

You’re so blinded by pleasure, you cant even tell when his thumb ended up in your mouth. Your plump lips wrapped around the digit, brows furrowed as you stared into his eyes. The man pulls his thumb out your mouth, saliva still connecting the two of you together.

“I love you so much,” he moans, other hand gripping your hip. “All mine, right?”

You nod fast, feeling yourself get even more turned on. You clench around him, hands trembling on his shoulders. “I-I’m so close mark,” you moan.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock? Like a good girl?” Mark holds your hips, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Body hot, sweat on his brow while pleasures you. You tried to be quiet, not wanting to draw any attention to the room, but you just can’t control yourself anymore. He feels so good inside you, like he’s made for you.

“yes, yes. I’m your good girl..”

Mark keeps fucking you, his grunts and moans sounding like music to your ears. He wants to keep going forever, but that feeling starts brewing in his stomach. He’s so close he might explode if you squeeze around him one more time. “Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” he moans. Mark tries to lift you off his lap, but you remove his hands.

You say nothing when you push his body deeper into the couch and start riding him like there’s no tomorrow. Whines and whispers escape from both of your lips, the feeling of an orgasm so close you could taste it. You kiss him, tongue immediately going down his throat and he enjoys it, moaning into your mouth.

That’s when you feel it, the right ball in your stomach becoming undone, clenching around him nice and tight as you break the kiss, high pitch sounds bouncing off the walls and into his ears. Mark follows immediately after, cumming deep inside your tight cunt with his jaw dropping at the feeling.

You collapse on his body having completely sweating out your hair, dress, and makeup. You don’t have to look into a mirror to know your look a mess. Lipstick everywhere, sweat fucking up your makeup, dress wrinkled to an unrecognizable degree. Mark doesn’t look any better. His shirt is half way off, hair all over the place and now his once perfectly ironed slacks are wrinkled.

“Holy fuck,” you huff out, still trying to catch your breath. Mark looks up at you, brows raised with a pretty smile on his face. “Can’t believe we just did that.”

“it was bound to happen.” Mark’s eyes light up when you giggle. “I’m so in love with you.”

Regardless of the fact that you just had sex with him, you still can’t handle how mushy and romantic he is, his words making your flustered. Mark knows you can handle it, so without letting you respond, he kisses you. Lips molding with yours, his tongue on yours tasting you. It feels like you’re the only people in the world, the way he grips your waist, pulling your body closer to him.

Both of you know you cant stay in this room, but you don’t protest when he caresses your face, thumb on your lip pulling your mouth open along with your tongue. The man licks up your tongue slowly, drawing a breathy moan you. He wraps his lips around the wet muscle, sucking it softly making you clench around his no semi hard cock that’s still inside you. You fell him thrust into you softly, but you can’t let him knowing you want to.

“wait,” you say breathlessly, pulling away from his lips. “we-we can’t stay here.”

“we can if you wanna go for round two.”

You look at him, biting your lip softly. “you don’t think we’ll get in trouble?”

“I don’t care about getting in trouble.”

Against your better intuition, your lips lock with his once again, his hands all over your body continuing his confession for the rest of the night.

[zeroseuniverse]

It's Okay To Not Be Okay

Word Count: 412 Summary: "There’s bravery in being soft. In letting yourself be seen, even when you’re not at your best." Pairing: Johnny x fem reader

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The rain pattered softly against the windows of the cozy café, its warmth offering a stark contrast to the chilly weather outside. She sat at her usual corner booth, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, staring blankly at the notebook open before her.

Johnny slipped into the seat across from her, his towering presence as familiar as the scent of freshly brewed coffee that clung to him. His smile, wide and inviting, softened the edges of her stormy thoughts.

"You looked like you could use some company," he said, his voice low and soothing.

She glanced up at him, feeling the tension in her chest ease slightly. "I didn’t mean to worry you," she murmured, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the notebook’s pages.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You’ve been quiet lately. I know you’re strong, but sometimes... it’s okay not to be."

His words lingered in the air, touching a part of her she had kept locked away. Being vulnerable felt dangerous, like exposing a chink in her armor, but the concern in Johnny’s eyes reminded her that it wasn’t weakness—it was trust.

"I just…" she hesitated, her voice faltering. "It’s hard to let myself feel everything sometimes. It’s like... if I do, I might break."

Johnny reached across the table, his large hand gently covering hers. "Breaking doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. And letting yourself feel, even when it’s scary, takes courage."

The kindness in his touch and words made her throat tighten, a lump forming as tears threatened to spill. She looked down, blinking quickly, but Johnny tilted his head, catching her gaze.

"Hey," he said softly. "There’s bravery in being soft. In letting yourself be seen, even when you’re not at your best."

His words cracked something inside her, and the tears she’d been holding back finally fell. Johnny didn’t flinch or look uncomfortable. Instead, he squeezed her hand, grounding her as she let it out.

"I’ve got you," he whispered. "You don’t have to be strong all the time. You’ve got me for that too."

For the first time in weeks, the weight on her chest lifted, replaced by a warmth she couldn’t quite describe. Johnny had shown her that softness wasn’t something to fear—it was something to embrace.

And as the rain continued to fall, she realized that being brave didn’t always mean standing tall. Sometimes, it meant letting someone hold her when she couldn’t hold herself.