minkiroo

[minkiroo]

posteddddd here mwahahahaahaha

#tiktok brainrot but there was a brook and jubal in the morning 2nd date update (iykyk) where the couple goes laser tagging and the guy accidently buts the end of his laser-tag gun in the girls face and breaks her nose and he didnt know until they do the phone call (the girl runs off to the bathroom and then ubers to the hospital or something) and shes like "how could he not know!! he broke my nose!!" and the guy is SOOOO apologetic about it and all i can think about is mingi being the guy feeling so bad and at the end of the phone call the girl gets hit by her painkillers and shes kinda woozy and tells him to bring food and maybe she'd consider a second date (but she clearly wants him over)....

i need to write this heklfihdihugufsd

[minkiroo]

second date update

pairing: s.mg x reader (wooyoung and jongho are the radio hosts)

genre: fluff

wc: 1.4k

warnings: discussions of a bloody nose, but nothing else.

note! this story is based on brook and jubal in the morning's second date update, where basically two people go on a first date, one of them ghosts, and the other calls the radio station to try to get the other on the phone to explain why they aren't answering. this particular scenario is basically a direct inspiration from this segment (starting at 8:05), where this actually happened lol. listen to it or not, i think its super funny HAHA

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

“hello, is this [y/n]?”

“uhh… yes - may i ask who’s calling?” your voice, though awake, is cautious, with a slight nasally sound to it.

the call came from an unknown number, which you figured was spam. however, you picked up anyway, prepared to hang up.

“i’m wooyoung, with jongho, from WooHo on air, the radio show?”

“oh… yeah i’ve heard of you guys. i don’t listen much though, sorry.”

“that’s alright." he laughs. "basically, the premise is you went on a date with someone, maybe something went wrong or something was unclear between the two of you, and you ghosted. and so now one of our listener’s emailed us about you to try to figure out what went wrong or why you’re not answering his texts.”

you sigh, the painkillers not hitting you yet to fog your memory up.

“was it mingi?”

the other host, jongho, lets out an “aha!”

“so you’re aware of the date you went on?”

a sharp flare of anger arose. “of course im aware!”

“so why don’t we tell you what we know and you can fill in the gaps for us? so mingi told us that you ditched him in the middle of it and he’s been trying to get a hold of you.”

jongho stepped in: “yeah, you have to tell us what happened and why you would leave mingi in the middle of the date, i mean you ditched him - that is so rude!”

your eyebrows knit in confusion, shaking your head on the other end of the phone in disbelief. “wait a second, you obviously have no clue what actually happened. i didn’t do anything wrong!”

wooyoung responds. “okay, well he swears that your laser tag date was amazing and there was no reason that he can think of that would warrant you ditching him.”

“well, it was fun until it wasnt.”

the hosts both start laughing, confused. “okay… can you give us a bit more?”

“okay, i guess. so…” you take a deep breath before continuing, “we were playing laser tag, as you know, and it was fun! we were teamed up taking people down and stuff.. and mingi just got really competitive against these like ten-year-olds-”

“-as one would in a game of laser tag.” wooyoung cuts in, and you nod, though they couldn’t see it.

“right yeah, i mean one of the goals was to take them down and he whipped around this one corner and hit my face with the bottom of his gun!”

the hosts pause before laughing a bit, bewildered. “wait, wait wait… he accidentally hit you?”

“no, he like, full on hit me with his gun! he broke my nose!”

“there’s no way.” jongho interjects in disbelief.

“well, it may have been an accident but he was being like, a total idiot! like he was way too caught up in the game and getting this ten year old was more important to him than making sure my face was ok! there was blood like, dripping out of my nose!”

“wait, so your nose is broken right now?”

“why else do you think i sound like im holding my nose?!”

wooyoung snorted. “i don’t know, maybe you just sound like that, i didn’t want to assume.”

you roll your eyes. “i was just embarrassed! it was our first date and suddenly my nose is pouring out blood, i didn’t know what to do! so i went to the bathroom and called an uber to go to the hospital.”

jongho tried to find a reason for all of it. “i can’t imagine this guy not feeling bad for doing that if he knew that he broke your nose. i mean-”

“well at that point i didn’t even care about the date anymore! he was just being a reckless jerk and then i get to the hospital and they told me it was broken. i had to have surgery, ive been out of work, like-”

you’re cut off by a voice different than wooyoung and jongho, and instead met by a familiar sounding apology. 

“[y/n], i am so so sorry. i-i had no idea what happened.”

wooyoung sucks in a breath. “so that’s actually mingi, he’s on the other line and wants to talk to you.”

“please, i am so sorry. i had no idea what happened and-”

“no idea what happened?! you ruined my favorite hoodie!”

mingi sounded desperate and apologetic, though the pain killers were starting to hit your system and made it harder to respond. “i tried finding out what happened and you didn’t answer or respond.”

“well, i had to take myself to the hospital, i couldnt answer the phone in surgery!”

“[y/n], i am so sorry. i wouldve taken you to the hospital if i had known. i feel awful.”

you laugh bitterly. “god no, you’re like, the last person i want to see me with a broken nose! we were on a date!”

“i would’ve paid for the hospital bill, for everything. i just wish you told me.”

wooyoung chimes in, feeling like the conversation was running too long for radio time. “honestly, i think the kid’s to blame. should’ve surrendered.” jongho chuckles in agreement.

you ignore the hosts. “i don’t need you to pay my bills, mingi. i managed just fine. i’m sorry, i…” you lose track of what you say, speech slowing down as the painkillers take full effect. “i’m sorry, theres packing material in my nose and i can’t breathe or talk right…”

“i feel so terrible.. and theres no way i can feel great about that night anymore and i screwed up, i get it, i do. but i want to make it right - if there’s any way to i would and i will..” your tense body relaxes a bit, feeling a bit bad for being so short with him.

jongho takes mingi’s side, trying to appeal to your judgement, “[y/n], you really should, he didn’t mean to do it. i know you’re upset and had surgery but it was an accident.”

wooyoung teases with a maniacal laugh. “i don’t know, it sounds like he did it on purpose.”

mingi continues to apologize, promising to do whatever it takes.

wooyoung continues the show, but segwaying into last question. “so… [y/n]... would you like to go out with mingi again on a second date? we will pay for it.”

the painkillers were really getting to you now, and you scoff. “why would you pay for it? he offered to pay my hospital bills, i’m sure mingi can afford a second date.”

jongho laughs, conceding, knowing you were high on something. “okay okay, he can pay. but would you go out with him?”

you frown, looking at yourself in your sick, unkempt, state. as you think, mingi continues to insist he would do anything to make it right.

“you can go and get me some takeout. yeah, mhm, we can start there. and then you leave it at my door. and when i’ve gotten the takeout into my door, you will back three steps away from the door. and then.. and only then… will i consider letting you in if you’ve done all of that safely.” you were clearly on something.

“okay, perfect, mingi, will you buy [y/n] takeout and start working your way back into her good graces? we’ll make it safe.”

“whatever you want. i’ll get you something easy to eat, or whatever you want. what’s your favorite?” his voice is firm and determined.

you pout, “i’ve been craving thai food. from the one place downtown.”

mingi nods. “anything, yes. the thai place downtown. i’ll bring you food.”

you quietly hum, before slurring your next response. "a-and thai tea. with extra boba."

wooyoung laughs. “guys, i think she’s out of it. welp, mingi got his second date and [y/n] got her nose broken. another successful second date update, i think!”

as wooyoung and jongho go on to introduce the next segment of the show, politely ending the call between you and wooyoung on both lines, you’re left with a fuzzy feeling in your chest. a text from mingi catches your attention, asking what time he should come over and what your address is.

you struggle to respond, but manage to do so successfully. though the gentle throbbing in your nose is a relentless distraction, you cant help but feel completely and utterly weightless thinking about mingi coming over.

and it wasn’t the painkillers that time.

[minkiroo]

dear god....

the shop

your car has broken down for the nth time, but yunho’s there to save the day. just your luck you don’t have enough money to pay him.

mechanic!yunho x fem!reader

words: 2.7k

join my taglist

warnings: dom!yunho, sub!reader, paying with your body trope, you already wanted to fuck him though, probably inaccurate pricing for car repair services cus i can’t drive tbh, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, slapping, creampie etc. not proofread

—

You’re dizzy and delirious, putty in his hands as he holds you firmly in place, right where he wants you.

“Y-Yunho!” You squeal. You writhe in his grip a little but it’s far too strong to resist.

He’s got you bent over the hood of the car—your car—while he pounds into you like a desperate, starving man. His overalls are hanging around his waist, just low enough for him to pull his cock out; his white t-shirt is soaked in sweat and the oil-covered gloves on his hands rub painfully against the skin of your hips.

“F-fuck,” he grunts. Your hips collide painfully with the hood every time he thrusts into you and your ass bounces and reddens each time your bodies collide. “What a fucking cock whore. You do this every time you can’t pay the bill? Huh?”

“N-no,” you sob. “Just you, Yunho. Just… hngh… just you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he snarls. His hand comes down on your ass again, raw and painful over the marks he left earlier and you find yourself looking back on everything that lead you here—lead you to being bent over your broken down car while the hottest man you’ve ever fucking seen is slamming his dick into you like his life depends on it.

You suppose the first part—ending up at the auto shop—was inevitable. The car was fucked when you bought it, honestly, but there weren’t many other options for a broke college student. You lived in another district where rent is cheaper, so needed a car to get to class. Didn’t matter how good it was, it just needed to run.

Trust your luck that that seemed to be the only thing it wouldn’t do.

For a period you managed to get by fixing it yourself; Youtube tutorials and favours from friends were enough to deal with all the minor issues that came up, but as minor issues tend to do, they quickly piled up on top of each other until, the morning your presentation was due, you put the keys in the ignition, started the car and—nothing. It did nothing. You were the unluckiest person in the fucking world.

You’d called your best friend immediately, hoping he’d be able to find and fix the problem, but really, you knew it was past that point now—and if you didn’t before, the shock on Hongjoong’s face when he’d popped the hood was evidence enough.

“Jesus, woman,” he said. “You gotta get this thing to a repair shop.”

“You know I can’t afford that,” you snapped back. Instantly you felt guilty for your tone, he was just trying to help after all, so you tried to soften up a bit. “Joong, can you really not fix it?”

“No, I’m sorry. But I know a guy who owns an auto shop. He’ll probably let me use my friends and family discount on you. I’ll give him a call.”

Relief flooded your chest and you hugged him tightly, thanking him profusely even as he walked away chuckling to make the call. In the meantime you called your professor; you thanked God you were such a good student, never missing class or assignments—you doubt she’d have been so forgiving otherwise. “Come by during office hours tonight and you can present it then,” she’d said, and you thanked her with a smile.

Okay, you thought. You just needed to deal with this, do your presentation and the nightmare would be over.

How wrong you were.

—

The auto shop was, well, pretty much how you pictured it. Cars in various states of completion sat in the spacious garage, walls piled with wheels and various other parts, the uses of which you probably would never have been able to guess. The only thing that took you by surprise was the tall, young looking guy who came up and introduced you as the owner.

“Hey, darling,” he smiled. “I’m Yunho. Let’s get you all fixed up, yeah?”

You blushed at his words, and the deep, sultry voice that spoke them. You imagined that was his intention; the way his eyes flickered up and down suggested the attraction was mutual. Or maybe that was just his personality; maybe the flirtatious tone, the innuendo of his words and his intense, intimidating gaze just came naturally to him.

He walked you over to where he had your car laid out and ready to go. Popping the hood, he surveyed the condition with a serious, focused expression. In the heat of the garage, his face was sweating slightly, and he swallowed thickly as he looked everything over. It made the vein in his neck bulge, tension obvious. When he stood back up again he seemed cool and assured; the opposite of you. You felt… confused. Hot. Tense.

“It’s not a huge problem,” he smiled. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour to fix it.”

You didn’t expect that. “Really?” You lit up, overjoyed and he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve got a staff room if you wanna wait around. May as well, since I should be done pretty quick.”

“Oh, yeah.” That made sense; there didn't seem to be many cafes or places around here for you to wait in anyway—and even if there were, none of them offered the view that the staff room he led you to had; the large glass window looking directly into the garage. You’d be able to keep an eye on your car as he worked—and on Yunho.

He got to work straight away and though you knew next to nothing about cars, save for the Youtube tutorials on greasing brakes and whatever else, but his skill was obvious. His large hands, covered by thick, dirtied gloves, worked quickly and efficiently.

He clearly knew you were watching him, and he clearly enjoyed it; every now and then he would look up from the car, meeting your eyes and tilting his head with a small, smug smirk. When he stood up to unzip his overalls, revealing a thin white t-shirt clinging to his broad chest, you found yourself inching closer and closer to the window without realising. Only when your face was practically pressed up against the glass did you back away, blushing furiously as you sunk into your seat. What the hell was wrong with you?

You’d never been like this about a man. Not even close. No one had ever made you so needy, so hot, so desperate. You didn’t even know you could be affected by someone in this way, yet here you were; thighs clenched together, breathing heavily and your face so hot you were practically feverish. He’d catch your gaze now and then still, and the expression on his face told you he knew everything that was going on in your head—and your body.

The sight of him putting the hood back down was a mercy and a curse; your car was fixed, you could leave, and you could get away from this man; three things you’d been waiting desperately for all this time.

But…did you even want to leave? It would be the smart thing to do, and the sooner you could get him out of your head, the better. But everything in your body screamed at you not to go, to stay and see what happens—if nothing did, at least you’d know. At least you wouldn’t have to wonder for the rest of your life.

He gestured for you to come out of the staff room, proudly showing you your fixed car. Your attraction to him aside, Yunho’s skill surprised you; the old, battered vehicle almost looked new, and when he started the engine to check it worked it sounded clearer and healthier than ever. “Holy shit,” you muttered.

Yunho laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty good. How do you wanna pay?”

You sighed. You never liked this part; who did? It was always painful to part ways with the little cash you earned at your god awful waitressing job, but you had to do what you had to do. “Card,” you mumbled.

“Alright,” he smiled. “It’s 250,000won. I’ll get the machine.”

He disappeared into what you guessed was another staff room and you stood awkwardly for a moment. Even with him gone the air was thick, sweaty; tense. He returned with the card machine, holding it out for you to take and you put your card in with shaking hands, pressing down the familiar numbers. Well, there goes the last of your mone—

The machine made a high-pitched, displeased noise that you knew all too well. Declined. You made a noise of shock, shaking your head in disbelief. It can’t have declined. You knew you had enough for this. You had to have enough. What the hell is—

Oh. Fuck. When they towed your car here this morning and you followed in a taxi with Hongjoong. When you insisted on paying the fare to thank him for his help. Fuck. You need to be a worse friend.

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt hands on yours; he grasped your shaking hands carefully, holding them steadily. His face was blank, but he seemed thoughtful.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “Fuck, what do I– I swear I–”

“Hey, hey.” His voice was calm and soft but a little lower than before. “Relax, doll. We’ll work something out, yeah?”

“Work something out?” You echoed his words, voice shaking.

“Of course,” he smiled. He tilted his head and you saw his eyes raking over you again; but this time it felt less like leering and more like… an inspection. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Tell me.” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave, thick with tension. “Are you really out of money?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you really out of money?” He repeated it, slower this time as though he was trying to dumb it down for you. “Or did you do this on purpose?”

You shook your head fervently, your body heating up with embarrassment and desperation and shame and, well, pretty much everything honestly. “No, Yunho, I—”

“I think you did.” He was grinning now, eyes piercing as he stared you down. He was still for a moment, seeming to consider something before he grabbed your chin, yanking your head up to meet his eyes. The material of the gloves was rough against your soft skin and the tightness of his grip was even more painful. “I bet you put the wrong numbers in on purpose, huh? Didn’t you?”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. You knew what he was saying wasn’t true, but fuck, you could already feel wetness pooling at the thought of what he’d do to you if it was. But he seemed to have made his mind up either way, so you decided to play his game—you widened your eyes fearfully, lip shaking as you said “I promise, I didn’t” in the most pathetic voice you could muster.

He knew what you were doing, and he fucking loved it. His smile widened as he leaned in closer to you. From this distance you could see his pupils were blown, eyes flashing with arousal. “I think you’re lying to me,” he whispers. “And you know what’s more, little girl?”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

He tightened his grip, yanking your head upwards again to expose your neck. His other hand wrapped itself around your throat like it belonged there. “I hate liars.”

—

You don’t even know how long he’s been fucking you now; your sense of time has blurred and muddied and it could have been minutes just as much as it could have been hours. All you can feel or think about is the feeling of his dick fucking you open, hitting your cervix over and over; and the strong arms that move and manipulate your body to increase his own pleasure.

He grabs your hair, yanking it back painfully and forcing you to look at him. “That’s it,” he grunts. “You’re gonna look at me while I’m fucking you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Yes, Yunho.”

“Good fucking girl.” His other hand wraps around your throat again, choking you just this side of too much. The head rush it gives you only sends you further into delirium, amplifying the other sensations. His deep, strained voice is fire in your ears. “Fucking stupid whore, aren’t you?”

He punctuates it with an extra hard thrust and you cry out again, voice strangled. “Yes, Yunho!” You scream. “Yes!”

“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you’re a fucking whore.”

“I’m a fucking whore,” you repeat. To hear the words from your own mouth, to taste them on your tongue as he forces you to degrade yourself sends another wave of pleasure through you that pushes you closer to the edge. Yunho makes a pleased sound, rewarding you by loosening his grip on your neck ever so slightly.

“You’re my fucking whore,” he whispers. “Yunho’s whore.”

“Yunho’s whore.” You repeat it without thinking and you feel him throb again inside you at your natural submission. “I’m Yunho’s whore.

“That you fucking are. Bending over for me over 250,000 fucking won. You’re a cheap little slut,” he spits. “But only for me, yeah?”

“Yes!” You feel yourself about to come undone and just as you finally reach breaking point he pulls out, cock hard and leaking; before you can protest he picks you up without a word, flipping you onto your back before shoving his cock back inside. “Wanna see you properly when I come in you,” he grunts. “Wanna see those eyes go fucking dumb for me.”

He lifts your legs and pushes them back towards you. The stretch is painful and uncomfortable but it’s hard to care about any of that when he’s fucking you so deep and hard. The weight of his hands pressing down on the backs of your thighs will surely leave bruises but you don’t mind—you’d probably love it, actually.

Now that you’re facing him you can see all the small details of his face while he fucks you; the beads of sweat pooling on his forehead, the black hair soaked through with it, the narrowed eyes and clenched jaw as his grip on your thighs tightens even further. He’s practically pressing all his weight against you now and it’s a delicious, painful pleasure. You reach out to him desperately—though desperate for what you’re not quite sure—and he grabs your hands, bending down to pin your arms against the car as he takes you in a hot, wet, messy kiss.

“Pretty girl,” he chokes. “So fucking pretty.”

“Yunho.” You feel tears pouring down your cheeks, overwhelmed with sensation, with the feeling of Yunho on every inch of your body. He pulls his mouth away from yours to press sloppy kisses across your jaw and neck, teasing the skin with his teeth. “Think you can come for me?” He murmurs. “Just from being used like this?”

“Yes, Yunho,” you whisper. “I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growls. He moves a hand down to press his thumb against your swollen clit, making you buck against him. “Come on my fat fucking cock like a good little girl. Earn your keep, baby.”

The heat in his words and the pressure of his thumb on your clit are enough to send you barrelling over the edge; you come with a noise you didn’t even know you made and he follows quickly, releasing inside of you with a strangled cry.

It’s silent for a moment and time seems to still while you process what’s just happened. You whine when you feel him pull out of you and he chuckles, gently slapping your pussy. “What a good girl,” he muses. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He sends you on your way with his business card in your pocket and his number in your phone. It takes you two weeks to find the nerve to call him, and that’s only because your car’s been making a weird noise that you can’t figure out. To be honest, it’s probably something Hongjoong or one of your other friends would be able to solve, but it’s too late now; you’ve already pulled up his contact and pressed call.

“Well hello, sweetheart.” Yunho’s voice is as deep as ever, his tone teasing. “Was starting to think I wouldn’t hear from you.”

“Yeah, um.” You clear your throat awkwardly, feeling yourself heat up again. “My car— it’s making a weird noise. Can you take a look at it?”

“Of course,” he says, and you hear the leering smile in his voice. “Why don’t you come down now? It’s a slow day at the shop anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Oh, and baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bring your credit card.”

—

requests open! comments and feedback appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

tags: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi

[minkiroo]

#tiktok brainrot but there was a brook and jubal in the morning 2nd date update (iykyk) where the couple goes laser tagging and the guy accidently buts the end of his laser-tag gun in the girls face and breaks her nose and he didnt know until they do the phone call (the girl runs off to the bathroom and then ubers to the hospital or something) and shes like "how could he not know!! he broke my nose!!" and the guy is SOOOO apologetic about it and all i can think about is mingi being the guy feeling so bad and at the end of the phone call the girl gets hit by her painkillers and shes kinda woozy and tells him to bring food and maybe she'd consider a second date (but she clearly wants him over)....

i need to write this heklfihdihugufsd

[minkiroo]

deserve @ woo but also OUUHHHHHH my heart...

𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

pairing: wooyoung x reader au: ceo | trophy wife genre: angst word count: 2.3k synopsis: finally having enough, you put yourself first. warning(s): cheating, cursing, pregnancy

Wooyoung stepped out of the steamy bathroom, running a hand through his damp hair. He glanced at you sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands resting on your belly. His lips curved into that familiar grin—the one that used to make your heart skip but now left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Hey, babe," he said casually, his voice as smooth as ever. "You okay? You look tired."

You forced a small smile, though your grip on your belly tightened. "Just the baby kicking. It’s been a long day."

He nodded, walking over to grab a shirt from the dresser. The scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering steam filled the room. You watched him, trying to decide if now was the time to confront him or if you should keep playing along until you figured out what to do.

Your eyes shifted to his phone on the nightstand, its screen dark now. The memory of those messages burned in your mind. His assistant wasn’t just friendly—she was crossing lines that no one should cross, and he hadn’t stopped her.

"Did you talk to the doctor about next week's appointment?" you asked, trying to keep your tone even.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, slipping a shirt over his head. "Yeah, everything's set. I’ll be there, don’t worry."

You wanted to scream. He sounded so normal, so convincing, as if nothing was wrong. As if he wasn’t betraying you again.

"Good," you replied, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I need you there this time."

Wooyoung stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Of course I’ll be there," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your belly. "You and the baby are all that matter to me."

His words should have comforted you, but they didn’t. Not with those messages fresh in your mind. Not with the weight of his lies pressing down on your chest.

You nodded, holding his gaze, but inside, you were already planning your next move. This time, the makeup sex wouldn’t be enough to fix things. This time, you needed more.

The doctor entered with a warm smile, her clipboard tucked under her arm as she closed the door behind her. "Good morning, Y/N," she greeted, her tone cheerful and professional. "How are we doing today?"

You offered a polite smile, though your nerves were evident. "I’m okay," you replied softly, your fingers still fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

The nurse beside you gave you a reassuring pat on the arm. "It’s normal to feel a little anxious," she said kindly, her voice calming. "You’re almost there."

You nodded, stealing a glance at the empty chair next to you. It wasn’t like you expected Wooyoung to show up this time—not after what you’d discovered—but it still stung.

The doctor took a seat and flipped through your file. "Well, everything’s been looking great so far," she said, glancing up at you. "Are there any concerns or changes you’ve noticed since your last visit?"

You hesitated, debating whether to bring up the stress you’d been under. Would it matter? Would it even help? "Just the usual," you said instead. "The baby’s been moving a lot more, and I’m a bit more tired than usual."

She nodded thoughtfully, making notes on her clipboard. "That’s to be expected at this stage," she assured you. "We’ll do an ultrasound today to check on the baby’s position and make sure everything is progressing as it should."

Your heart clenched at the mention of the ultrasound. It was something you’d always looked forward to, but now, it just felt… hollow.

The nurse began preparing the equipment while the doctor stood. "Go ahead and lie back, and we’ll take a look," she said with a smile.

You did as instructed, trying to relax as the cool gel was applied to your swollen belly. The familiar whir of the machine filled the room, and soon the screen lit up with the grainy image of your baby.

"There we are," the doctor said, pointing to the screen. "Everything looks great. Strong heartbeat, good position. Your baby’s just about ready to make their debut."

You smiled faintly, tears pricking your eyes. For a moment, the weight of everything else disappeared. It was just you and your baby.

But as the doctor wrapped up the appointment and you wiped the gel from your belly, reality came crashing back. You were going through this alone, whether Wooyoung was physically there or not.

You thanked the doctor and nurse, scheduled your next appointment, and left the office with a deep breath. As you walked to the bus stop, you placed a protective hand over your belly.

"I’ve got you," you whispered. "No matter what happens, it’s you and me."

Wooyoung's phone buzzed incessantly on the counter as he stood in his kitchen, scrolling absentmindedly through his messages. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening when he saw the name flashing on it: Minji.

Her texts were coming in rapid succession:

“Wooyoung, please, it’s urgent.” “I need you to come over right now. It’s an emergency.” “Don’t ignore me, Woo. You promised you’d be there for me, too.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew today was important—your appointment, your baby, the family he was supposed to be prioritizing. But Minji wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly how to play him.

He hesitated, guilt clawing at him. He told himself it wouldn’t take long, that he’d swing by, see what was so urgent, and then make it to the appointment. Surely, you wouldn’t notice his absence right away.

By the time he pulled into her driveway, his mind was spinning with excuses he’d feed you later. Stepping out of the car, he was greeted by Minji at the door, her expression a mix of worry and triumph.

“You came,” she breathed, clutching her chest dramatically.

“What’s the emergency?” he asked, stepping inside and glancing around for any sign of chaos.

Minji hesitated, her lip quivering just enough to tug at his conscience. “I… I just didn’t know what to do,” she said, her voice wavering. “I needed you.”

“Minji, I can’t keep doing this,” Wooyoung said, his tone low but firm. “You know I have a family to think about. I have responsibilities—”

“I know,” she cut him off, stepping closer. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her hands reached for his. “But what about me, Woo? You’ve been there for her all this time. I needed you today, too.”

He sighed, torn between the mess he’d created and the mess he was still walking into. As she stepped closer, the faint smell of her perfume filled his senses, clouding his judgment.

Meanwhile, at the clinic, you sat in the bus stop, staring at your phone. You’d called Wooyoung twice, left a message, and even sent him a text. No response.

Your hand rested protectively on your belly as your mind filled with anger and sadness. Deep down, you knew where he was—or more accurately, who he was with.

But this time, something inside you shifted. The disappointment wasn’t just another wave to ride out. It was a breaking point. You weren’t going to let him keep doing this—not to you, and definitely not to your baby.

If Wooyoung wanted to keep playing these games, you were ready to end them. For good.

Wooyoung cursed under his breath as he stumbled out of Minji's apartment, his shirt half-buttoned and his shoes barely on. His phone buzzed in his hand, mocking him with the missed calls and unread messages from you. Guilt twisted in his chest, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from making the choices he had.

Minji leaned lazily against the doorway, her silk robe draped around her as she smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "You better hurry, lover boy," she called out teasingly. "Wouldn’t want your little family to get suspicious."

Wooyoung shot her a glare but said nothing, slamming the door behind him as he hurried down the stairs. His mind raced as he thought about what excuse he could give you this time. Traffic? A work call? Something believable but not too rehearsed.

Sliding into his car, he started the engine and sped toward the clinic, his stomach twisting with every second that ticked by. He kept glancing at his phone, seeing your name on the screen, the time stamp of your last message glaring back at him: “Where are you?”

His heart dropped when he made it back home, he was expecting another ultrasound picture that you usually sent but nothing. When he entered into the house, it didn't even feel like home. When he walked up the stairs, that's when he heard the sniffles. His heart broke when he saw Yeosang pacing back and forth in your shared room. A luggage on the bed beside you as Yeosang helped you packed.

Wooyoung froze in the doorway, his breath hitching as the scene unfolded before him. You sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaking your face as you clutched a folded onesie in your hands. Yeosang paced the room, his jaw clenched and his movements tense, clearly trying to hold himself together for your sake.

The sight of the open luggage on the bed made Wooyoung’s chest tighten. This wasn’t just an argument, wasn’t just a bad day. This was you leaving.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung started, his voice low and shaky, stepping into the room.

Yeosang stopped pacing immediately, his sharp gaze snapping to Wooyoung. “Don’t,” he warned, his tone cold and biting. “You don’t get to come in here like this. Not after what you’ve done.”

“What are you talking about?” Wooyoung asked, his voice defensive but laced with guilt. His eyes darted between you and the luggage. “Baby, let me explain—”

You looked up at him then, and the raw pain in your eyes made him falter. “Explain what?” you choked out, your voice trembling. “Explain why you couldn’t even bother to show up today? Why you were with her instead of being with us?”

Wooyoung’s throat tightened, and he reached out as if to comfort you, but Yeosang stepped in front of you protectively, his expression daring Wooyoung to try.

“I waited for you,” you continued, your voice growing stronger despite the tears. “I sat there, hoping you’d walk through the door. And when you didn’t, I realized… this isn’t the first time, Wooyoung. It’s a pattern. And I can’t—I won’t do this anymore.”

“Y/N, please,” Wooyoung pleaded, his voice breaking as he tried to step closer. “It’s not what you think—”

Yeosang let out a humorless laugh, cutting him off. “Not what she thinks?” he spat. “She knows exactly what it is, and so do I. You’ve been lying to her, to all of us. And now, you’re losing her because of it.”

Wooyoung’s hands balled into fists at his sides, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue. He knew Yeosang was right. But his ego didn't let it go. He went down on his knees, crawling towards you as he began to cry.

You froze at the sound of his knees hitting the floor, his sobs echoing through the room as he crawled toward you. The sight of Wooyoung, usually so cocky and full of bravado, breaking down in front of you was almost too much to bear. But then you remembered the sleepless nights, the loneliness, the betrayal.

“Baby, please!” he cried, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face. “She meant nothing to me, I swear! It was a mistake—just a stupid, meaningless mistake. Don’t leave me. Don’t take our baby away from me.”

Yeosang stood protectively beside you, his hand steady on your back as he stared down at Wooyoung with thinly veiled disgust. “You should’ve thought about that before you kept running back to her,” Yeosang said coldly, his voice cutting through Wooyoung’s desperate pleas.

You clenched your fists, torn between anger and heartbreak. “A mistake?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “Wooyoung, this wasn’t just one mistake. It’s been over and over again, and every time, I let myself believe your lies. But I can’t do it anymore. I won’t do it anymore.”

Wooyoung shook his head violently, his hands clutching at your knees as he begged. “I’ll change! I’ll prove it to you—I’ll do anything. Just… don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose our baby.”

You stared down at him, your heart breaking into a million pieces. For a moment, you thought about the man you fell in love with, the man who made you laugh and promised to build a future with you. But that man felt like a distant memory now, buried under the lies and betrayal.

“You already lost us, Wooyoung,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. “Not because I’m walking away, but because you pushed me away every time you chose her over us. I’ve given you so many chances, and every time, you broke my trust.”

He sobbed harder, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face against your legs. “Please, Y/N. Please, just one more chance. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

Yeosang stepped forward, his hand pulling Wooyoung’s arms away from you with a firm but gentle touch. “Enough, Wooyoung,” he said firmly. “You need to let her go. She’s made her decision.”

You took a shaky breath and looked at Yeosang, grateful for his strength when yours felt like it was crumbling. “Let’s go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Yeosang nodded and helped you steady yourself as you turned toward the door. Wooyoung’s cries followed you, his broken voice pleading one last time.

“Y/N… please don’t leave me. I love you!”

You paused at the doorway, tears streaming down your face, before turning to look at him one final time. “If you loved me, Wooyoung,” you said, your voice trembling, “you wouldn’t have done this.”

And with that, you walked out, leaving him on his knees, the weight of his choices crashing down around him.

[minkiroo]

notes of jasmine

pairing: p.sh x reader

genre: pure fluff

wc: 661

warnings: none!

note! inspired by this moment in his recent live hehe

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

the weekend fell upon you two, a week’s worth of work and toil finally pushed behind you as you finally can rest. seonghwa rests his head on your lap, as you sit back on the couch, crocheting the blanket you’d finally set your heart on making absentmindedly. he, meanwhile, scrolled through his phone, humming along to the shared playlist you had playing on the speaker. it was bright and sunny: the rays filtered through the curtains and naturally brightened the shared living room.

you pat his arm lightly, signalling for him to get up. he hums, caught off guard, but lifted his head nonetheless. you place a pillow under his head in lieu of your leg and stretch briefly before leaning over.

“im going to go shower and get ready for dinner, ok?” you whisper, a small smile on your lips.

he hums in response. “mm, ok. don’t take long.”

“oh please.”

you laugh lightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips and moving to the bathroom, where you quickly washed up your body before going to the bedroom to get dressed.

“seonghwa?” you called out.

“yes, baby?”

“what’s the occasion for dinner?”

“uh, like dress code? i don’t know, whatever you want love.”

“no, like, where are we going? somewhere fancy, casual? you didn’t tell me.”

he lights up in realization, “oh - upscale!” 

“perfect. you need to get ready too.”

“coming.”

as he made his way to the bedroom, you sprayed a new perfume you grabbed after seeing reviews online. though you didn’t spoil yourself often with perfume, this one you couldn’t pass up. surely this date night would make a good occasion to try it.

he pauses at the door, sniffing. “what’s that smell?” his voice was low and curious.

you look at him, and then shake the bottle you set back down on the dresser. “new perfume. you like it?” you hold out your wrist, letting him smell.

he grabs your wrist, sniffing and humming as he basked in the scent.

he moves abruptly behind you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. he murmurs softly, “you smell so nice.”

“thanks.” you giggle. he continues to move his head to different spots around your neck and chest, deeply inhaling, almost exaggeratingly so. you laugh, both because of his silly antics and also because his long hair was tickling you with every slight movement he made against you.

“you’re so silly today, ah, seonghwa stop that!” you jump as he nips at your neck, pressing loving kisses and continuing to bask in the scent of your new perfume.

“i’m sorry that i cant help how good you smell and how good you look and how perfect you are.” his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him as he continues his loving ministrations.

you pout, turning to face him directly, smoothing down his hair against his head. you study his face, a small smile adorning your face as he lightly pants from breathing in far too much perfume. “i’m glad you like it. i’ll wear it all the time now if this is how you’ll be.”

he hums before leaning in, capturing your lips in a warm kiss. though you indulge him briefly, you pull away sputtering, making a face.

“eughhh. you kissed off all my perfume and now you taste like it.”

“deal with it. you love it.” he teases.

“i do not love it though i do love you.” and with that, you kiss him, disregarding the faint taste of perfume. 

your lips moved against each other’s in a slow but passionate dance, imbuing all the love you had for each other in a simple kiss. you couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss and pulling him into a hug. 

as the night went on - the dinner date, the walk in the cool evening air, and the love you made when you returned home - the sweet scent of your perfume remained lingering in the air—a reminder of the little things that made your love so special.

[minkiroo]

beyond the shadows [teaser] - c.sn x reader

fem!reader x choi san

[a/n] i have to be honest i have no clue what this is.. i just watched nosferatu and was feeling inspired lmao more parts to come perhaps! i have a vision though...

[warnings] in this teaser, nothing... in the series, angst, fluff, smut (maybe). reader is deeply depressed, san is... not human (he is not evil though). takes place in the past though the time period is not entirely specified. mob mentality, a backwards and superstitious village. VERY loosely based on nosferatu.

Namhae lay shrouded in a layer of thick mist, humidity coating every surface outside with a layer of dew drops that grew heavy. It was hard to breathe for too long. The heaviness of the air lay thick on the town like a weighted blanket, consuming and retaining everything in a bubble. It was grotesque, but it became home. There was no going back now. 

You sighed as you set your paintbrush down, unsatisfied with the way your latest painting turned out. Though you had motivation to paint, there was no vision. You could not see beyond the brushstrokes you placed on the canvas, and nothing came together. Nothing felt right. However, nothing ever did so it seemed. 

You carefully stretched your slightly hunched back, the pops of your bones reverberating in the quiet living room. I will finish tomorrow. Surely something will come of this painting with fresh eyes. 

The painting, dark and grim, was admittedly a product of your own grief. A still captured from one of your nightmares. Even then, the frustration of not knowing where the painting was going consumed you. It was like your body painted but your mind could not recognize the scene. It was gruesome. A still of an angry sea, all-consuming, a ship torn to pieces, sailors drowning inevitable deaths. 

You stood there, bewitched by the scene. Perhaps you should continue painting… no? But before you could sit back down and continue, a sharp knock was heard at your door amidst the stillness of the house.

It must be my mind playing tricks on me. You curse yourself for not taking your sleeping medication.

The knocking persists; surely it was not just you. You wiped your hands on your apron, leaving streaks of paint across the fabric. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you crossed the room, your heart pounding in your chest.

Standing on your doorstep was a man - his dark hair tousled by the wind, and his eyes—deep, soulful, and impossibly warm—seemed to pierce through the fog and into the very core of you. He wore a long, dark coat that billowed slightly in the breeze, framing his broad body, and there was an air of quiet mystery about him, as though he had stepped out of one of your paintings.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice low and melodic, like the distant hum of a cello. “I was drawn to your light.”

You blinked, confused. “My light?”

He smiled, a small, almost sad curve of his lips. “Yes. Even in the darkest places, there is always a light. Yours is… quite captivating.”

You didn’t know what to say. His words stirred something in you, something you hadn’t felt in a long time—a flicker of hope, fragile and fleeting, but there all the same.

“I’m San,” he said, extending a hand. His fingers were long and elegant, and when you took his hand, his touch was cool but comforting, like the first breath of winter air.

“I… I don’t usually have visitors,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I am honored to be the first,” he replied, his smile widening just enough to reveal a hint of warmth. “May I come in?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the chaos of your cottage—the unfinished paintings, the scattered brushes, the shadows that seemed to cling to every corner. But something about San’s presence made the darkness feel less oppressive, as though he carried a light of his own.

Surely a visitor this time of night would mean well.

[minkiroo]

Martyr's Folly

Summary: Yunho helps and comforts the reader after they've accidentally cut too deep.

Genre: a hurt/comfort Yunho x reader oneshot

Word count: 4.81k (15-20 mins)

Trigger warnings: semi-descriptive self-harm (blood, cuts, use of blades - nothing too crazy, though, don't worry!), panicking, crying, mentions of relapsing, lots of pet names, nicknames, and physical affection lol, Yunho is a blessing

A/N: This fic is pretty personal since I've been struggling with not feeling valid enough because of the way I SH, which isn't the stereotypical kind you see in movies and such. In a way, it's an attempt at scaring myself from buying any actual blades mixed in with the comfort I crave whenever I slip up, I guess.

Baby cuts. Cat scratches. Damage dealt within the epidermis and the higher half of the dermis. Whatever you want to call it.

For a few weeks now, that's exactly what has been slowly but steadily appearing on your feet and lower calves. Or re-appearing, rather. A bad habit from the past coming back to haunt you all over again for no apparent reason.

No but seriously, what reason for doing this is there? You're happy, you have a stable part-time job on the side of your studies that are also going great, and an incredible boyfriend with whom you've just celebrated a 6-month anniversary. No real issues in your life as far as you can see.

Sure, sometimes you get caught up in a fight with your friends or parents, or even with Yunho, or maybe some of your insecurities hit extra strong on some days. But all of that is normal, right? Just some passing obstacles that get resolved in a few days tops.

So why are you here, at 3 am, staring at the husk of a person in the mirror? Why is your head so empty yet incomprehensibly full at the same time? Why are your hands all fidgety, getting ready to strike any moment?

Truth be told, you have no clue.

This was supposed to be a lovely weekend for you. You got off work early on Friday, securing enough time to pack your stuff at your dorm before heading to Yunho's apartment for a sleepover. He's been trying to convince you to move in with him after your anniversary, saying how it would be both cheaper and closer to your university. Both of those arguments are true, and yet you remain stubborn, wanting to keep your independence for just a bit longer.

Alas, Yunho has no choice but to respect your decision and settle for weekend sleepovers in the meantime.

And even those are great! The two of you get to talk for hours and play games, cook dinner together or order in and watch TV... Mainly, though, you get to cuddle and snuggle to your hearts' content (and maybe even do a bit more than that, if the opportunity and want arises).

That's also one of the main reasons for your hesitance over this whole... relapse thing.

Because of Yunho and his affectionate nature towards you, hiding the traces of your renewed habits became much more difficult. You couldn't cut where you used to before, all of those areas feeling way too exposed now.

And so, you settled on the bottom of your legs. Anything a pair of longer socks could easily hide without too much questioning from your boyfriend. Let's just say your feet are cold all the time now, even though summer's just barely starting to end.

Is it satisfying to harm there? No, not at all. The area is too small and angular, and the pain-to-mark ratio is nowhere near optimal. Everything feels too bony and stings more than other places, and all you get from it are the faintest of scratches.

But anything to at least partially quell the urge, right?

Well, not exactly.

If the razor blade hidden within the confines of your duffel bag was any proof, your methods weren't exactly effective.

You've never used an actual razor blade before, never even planned on trying it since you knew about the dangers of using it and how everything could get out of hand within seconds. Sure, the scissors and other sharp objects you've used until now weren't exactly perfect either, but they didn't put you at as much of a risk of going to the ER.

...So why did you buy the blade then?

Well, it was pretty cheap, first of all. You could just buy it, think about using it, and then throw it out without feeling too guilty about it, right? Not to mention how it helped you feel more valid about harming, even if you haven't used it yet. Self-harm is always depicted as razor blades on wrists, so even just owning one somehow helped you feel a bit more valid amidst the disappointing scratches on your leg.

It's been a week since you've bought said blade (or 5 blades rather, as they came in a pack - what a steal!). During that week, not much has happened to it. Right after you paid and got your receipt, you tossed the paper into a nearby trash can and stashed the pack of blades into your wallet. And there they were even later tonight, as you quietly crept to your bag to retrieve them, careful not to wake Yunho up.

But let's rewind back a bit. Back to where today's misfortune started.

Just like with everything else lately, you don't know why the urge to indulge washed over you specifically tonight. You and Yunho have spent such a fun evening together, lounging around and enjoying each other in whatever way felt right.

And yet, the moment the lights were turned off and your boyfriend spooned you from behind, holding you close while his breathing slowly evened out, it was as if something had shifted in the air. An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over you, making you feel both completely dull and overstimulated. Yunho's arms around you felt both like an anchor and a vice, the opposing feelings adding even more to the already rising chaos in your mind. You were suddenly overly aware of every part of your body, as if your own skin was calling out to you.

You didn't want to.

You knew you had to.

As gently and quietly as you could, you unwrapped yourself from Yunho's embrace and got up. He let out a soft sigh at the loss of contact, and you had to admit, you already mourned it too.

Sneaking into the bathroom, you closed the door before turning on the lights. Avoiding the reflection in the mirror, you began searching through the cabinet under the sink. You didn't want to see yourself right now. If anything, it would just add to the confusing conflict raging within you, and you really didn't need that.

Rummaging through each shelf one more time, you let out a frustrated huff. There was nothing you could use. Well, save for the expensive-looking razor Yunho owned, but you really didn't have the patience or coherency to take apart your boyfriend's belongings.

It's time, then.

The return to the bedroom was a bit stressful, as you couldn't decide between searching through your duffel bag there or bringing it with you to the bathroom. Both options seemed too noisy right now, causing you to awkwardly loom over the bag for a few moments, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

In the end, you decided to just risk it, crouching down to begin unzipping the top. Strangely enough, you kind of hoped Yunho would hear it and wake up. Maybe the shock of being caught would stop you for the time being and you could just go back to bed.

To both your luck and dismay, Yunho didn't wake up, his biggest reaction being the slightest stir of the sheets.

With your wallet in hand, you walked back to the bathroom, your steps a bit bolder this time. Now that you knew Yunho wouldn't wake up so easily, you didn't pay as much mind to the noise you were making.

In a weird way, you were upset. Upset he didn't wake up. Upset he didn't magically realize what your new obsession with socks could possibly mean. Upset he wasn't there to stop you right now.

But along with the upset came a strange feeling of calm. Joy, even.

He doesn't know. Nobody has any idea you're doing this right now. Nobody cares enough to find out anyway. You're free to reign over your body as you please, especially if it will finally shut down the confusing mess of emotions boiling within you.

It will, right?

It's 3 am. You're staying over at Yunho's apartment and he's currently sleeping in the bedroom next-door. You finally gather enough courage to look at yourself in the mirror, but it's rather disappointing. The shell standing in front of you doesn't bring up any emotions anymore. It doesn't even look like you, you think. Maybe this isn't you, after all. That's what you like to tell yourself whenever the moment is over, that this isn't actually the real you harming yourself. This is someone else taking hold of you and your upcoming actions.

You sit down on the cold bathroom floor, a razor blade in hand. When did you unpack them? The small paper packaging and 4 other blades are lying right next to you. Huh. Guess you did just now.

You don't bother taking off the socks. A precious thing like this shouldn't be used in such a shitty spot anyways.

Then again, you also don't exactly want to die right now, so the wrists are off-limits. Sure, you want to feel more valid and that place is the most stereotypical one to cut, but you're already holding the blade you thought you'd never dare use, so that's enough "progress" for now.

Now that you think about it, the thighs sound pretty scary too. You've always heard of some major arteries being located in the thigh. Perhaps you shouldn't risk it there then. Not yet, at least.

And so, like a coward, you move back to your lower leg.

To your defense, you do go considerably higher than usual! You pick a nice spot that's vaguely in the middle of the side of your leg, where your shins and calves would meet.

Deep breaths. You can do this. Just brace yourself and-

...

...

Oh fuck.

No, no, no nonono-

You knew the risks, you knew you should watch out for the pressure when using a razor blade for the first time since it's so much sharper than any pair of scissors you own, but somehow even the lessened pressure you put was too much.

Within seconds, blood started flowing to the surface. You dropped the blade, making it fly in a random direction as your hands trembled.

Your eyes welled with tears as, despite the blood, you could see a gash way deeper than any cut you'd ever made until now; you could literally see two parts of your skin split-

You're gonna throw up. Or faint. Or both. Oh fuck.

The first drops of blood fell onto the tiles just as your own tears pooled over. Your chest heaved with your labored breathing. You didn't know what to do.

Should you go to the ER? Will it stop on its own? Should you wake Yunho up? Oh god, you should probably wake Yunho up, shouldn't you.

Wiping your tear-stained face as best as you could with your shirt, you crawled over to the bathroom door. You were too scared to walk, afraid you'd faint if you stood up so suddenly.

As you sat by the door, another sob wracked through you. You couldn't calm down, you were too scared of what might happen if you didn't take care of the gash in time. And yet, you couldn't help but fear what might happen if you woke Yunho up. Now that you think about it, maybe it will just stop on its own and you can hide it for the rest of the weekend and then you'll just make up a story of how you got into an accident at work and-

One look at the trail of blood behind you was enough to get your hands on the door handle, pulling the door open on your second try. The door handle flew back up with a loud bang as you dropped back down, but the door was open at last. You pulled it fully open from where you sat, taking a few shallow breaths once you did so.

"...Y/N?"

Now. Now he wakes up. Not at any point before you could have done this. Now.

In the back of your mind, a strange feeling of anger bubbled up. Somehow, you wanted to blame Yunho for not getting to you sooner. But the second you realized what your brain was trying to do, you felt another pang of nausea hit you.

Yunho was not to blame in the slightest. This is all you. You started this, you went through with it, and now you're crawling back to him for help. Don't even try to put any blame on him, no matter how much easier it would make this whole thing to stomach.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Right, he was awake. The shuffling of the sheets coming from the bedroom confirmed as much.

You tried to call out to him but choked on another sob instead.

All of your fear of being seriously hurt and needing help immediately shifted, transforming into the most heart-wrenching wave of guilt imaginable. Just what have you done? Why are you burdening someone else with this? Are you really going to make him see this?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the first footstep. All the raging panic hit you anew, making you speak before you could think.

"W-wait!" You cried, an unknown feeling of desperation clutching your chest. "Please, please don't come here, please."

To your surprise, the footsteps actually stopped.

"...I'm waiting, but please tell me what's going on," Yunho replied with obvious unease.

Well, uh. You haven't exactly thought this far, have you?

"O-okay, I, well, I," you stumbled over your words, trying to work through the mush of your brain to come up with anything even barely comprehensible. "I did something really bad and I think I need your help but you have to promise not to be mad. I don't know what to do but please don't be upset."

Selfish. That's what you were. Even amongst all this chaos and pain you were about to drag Yunho into, all you could think about was saving your own face and evading consequences.

"Y/N, I'm sorry but I'm coming in," Yunho suddenly announced, and the footsteps resumed. "I need to see if you're okay, I promise I won't be mad."

There was no escaping it now. You could only brace yourself for the worst, whatever that would entail.

Two feet stood before your hunched-over form. You didn't dare look up, you didn't dare see what he was feeling.

As carefully as he could, Yunho stepped around you and further into the bathroom. You heard the scraping of metal across tiles before the cabinet doors opened. A towel, a first aid kit, and a medium-sized, colorful box appeared before you, along with your boyfriend in his cozy pajamas. Still, you didn't dare look up.

Wordlessly, he propped your injured leg up as gently as he could, as if he was handling the finest china in the world. Placing the dark grey towel under it, blood immediately rolled down and seeped into the material.

"Okay, this might seem a bit weird, but just- I'm not an expert or anything, far from it, really, but-"

As Yunho rambled nervously, you watched his hands tear open a pack of pads. Ever since your sleepovers became a more regular thing, he'd made sure to keep some in his apartment at all times in case of an emergency. Never had he thought he'd use them in this type of emergency, though.

You watched in confusion as he pulled out one of the pads, opening it and double-checking which side was sticky and which was dry. Unable to hide his worried grimace as he got closer to the wound, he pressed the cotton pad against it.

"I- I probably have something better in the first aid kit to stop the bleeding, but while I look through it, just hold that down to the cut, okay?"

You nodded weakly, deciding not to ask any questions and just let your boyfriend try to fix you. Not that you could say much anyway, not with the way your throat had dried and closed up from all the anxiety.

You silently kept watch as Yunho fumbled through the red bag, noticing the slight tremors in his hands. When you looked at his face, however, it appeared surprisingly neutral.

Ah, so he was trying to stay calm to not worry you any further, but on the inside, he was freaking out just as much as you, if not more. Great. You didn't think you could feel more guilt than you already had, but guess not.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," he spoke up again, "Mingi would get injured all the time before he'd moved out - you know how clumsy he can get - and I, uh, haven't exactly taken the time to re-organize everything. Sorry."

Your lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, along with a hushed "It's okay, babe".

Yunho's eyes shot up at your words, mirroring your soft smile with his own. Pausing his search for just a second, he leaned over and planted a quick, reassuring kiss on your forehead. "You're right. I'll take good care of you, don't worry. After the first accident Mingi had here, I bought some steri-strips... They should still be around here somewhere, but we threw the original packaging away, so they're just a bit hard to find."

You hummed in understanding, hoping you could ease at least some of his worries by showing him you were doing alright.

Somehow, the moment Yunho appeared in the doorway, all of your previous panic stopped. It was as if through his presence, the jumbled mess of worries surrounding you had split into two. Yunho had graciously shouldered the worries about your physical state, while you focused on keeping his mental well-being in check. All of the fear about his reaction to this situation as a whole was still there, of course, but for the time being, you'd managed to shove them to the back of your mind. It was something to worry about later, when the two of you could calm down and properly talk to each other.

For now, all you had to do was just worry about Yunho while he worried about you.

"Finally!" Yunho sighed in relief, fishing out two small packs of steri-strips. "Okay. Let's do this, then."

But as he shuffled closer to your leg again, he paused.

"Wait, I'm sorry for assuming," he began while opening the first set, "but you don't want to go to the hospital, right? They'd obviously do a much better job than me, but since you said you needed my help, I just, I guessed that- you know. Should we go to the hospital instead?"

You immediately shook your head no, making Yunho smile faintly, glad to have read you right and that he wasn't wasting time trying to play hero.

You were thankful he didn't insist on taking you to the hospital. You knew it would probably be for the best, but right now, in your state, you couldn't even fathom going. You were terrified just crawling to the door to beg for Yunho's help, let alone driving to the opposite part of town to have complete strangers examine you.

"Right then," Yunho sighed, mentally steeling himself for the next step. "Can you feel your leg fine? Feeling faint or anything?"

You just shook your head, slowly easing the pressure you held on the cut. "I'm okay, I think. Just a little shaken up still."

Yunho nodded thoughtfully, helping you unstick the bloody pad from your hand. Luckily, it seemed that most of the bleeding had stopped, at least for now. "It's okay, I'm a bit out of it too."

"Sorry for making you do this," you whispered sincerely, but Yunho quickly stopped you again.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I know you didn't mean to do this. You wouldn't have called for me like that if things went down the way you wanted them to."

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything after that, feeling your throat tighten as a fresh wave of tears rushed to your eyes.

You averted your gaze as Yunho began cleaning the area as gently as he could before placing the strips down, helping hold the wound shut. Four strips helped the cut close up, and then two were laid on top of them to help everything stay put. Despite no professional medical training, you swear your boyfriend could do anything like an expert first-try. Well, considering him saying something about treating Mingi's injuries, he might have actually trained a bit already. Either way, you could feel your nerves easing a considerable bit at the sight of the gash finally closed-up.

"There we go," Yunho said contently, giving your other leg a gentle pat. "Just stay put a little longer, okay? I'm gonna clean up a bit in here."

Oh, that's right.

You were so out of it you completely forgot about the blades scattered around, the blood dripping across the floor, the towel, pads, first aid kit, everything.

Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your breathing. It has mostly returned to normal, but you could still feel a lot of tightness in your chest.

"Hey now, don't go falling asleep on me, okay?" You heard Yunho calling out to you a few meters away, making you peek one eye open.

He was kneeling by the sink, scrubbing at the dirty tiles. When he noticed you looking at him, he flashed you a quick, comforting smile.

"'m not falling asleep," you protested, "I'm just resting a bit, sorry."

"It's okay, I was just a little worried."

Yeah. That's definitely one way to put how Yunho was likely feeling right now.

But that could be dwelled on and discussed later. For now, all you had to do was sit still, breathe deep, and stay strong.

...

"You still with me, princess?"

You opened your eyes again, this time to find Yunho sitting in front of you. You don't know how much time has passed, too focused on pacing your breaths, saying the alphabet forwards and backwards, thinking about your favorite TV show moments - anything to calm down, really.

When he saw you were still fully awake, he pulled out a gauze bandage with a small smile. "We should be fine with just the steri-strips, but let me wrap this up for you to be one hundred percent safe, okay?"

You let him do as he pleased, trusting his judgment better than your own at the moment. As he bandaged your leg, you looked around the room, noticing everything was back the way it was before you'd entered.

"I put the, uh, the blades away for now," Yunho continued, a nervous edge to his tone. "I didn't want to just throw them away without permission, but leaving them out here in the open didn't seem like a great idea either. Sorry if it seems distrustful, it's just... you know."

"You're scared I might do it again," you finished for him, making him nod hesitantly. "It's okay, I get it."

It was honestly surprising how easy it was to talk to Yunho about this. Maybe it's because he already saw the worst of it, maybe it was the way he took such gentle care of you, or maybe it was just his entire attitude about this so far. Caring, non-judgemental, open to listen.

"Alright then, I think we're done here. Let's get you to bed, shall we?"

Before you could respond, you were picked up by a pair of strong, warm hands. You wanted to object for a split second, but on second thought, maybe it was in your best interest not to move too much right now.

A few moments later, you were laid back down on the bed, a soft kiss pressed to your temple before you were shrouded in your blanket. With a whispered promise of returning again, Yunho rushed back to turn off the lights and close the door, enveloping the two of you in darkness. You waited a second, two, and then the bed dipped behind you with a quiet creak.

"Come here." Yunho's arms wrapped around your waist from behind again, holding you closer than before. "Is this okay? Should I give you space?"

"It's fine, Yuyu."

His chest shook with a small chuckle. "Oh come on, don't call me that right now." He somehow snuggled up even closer to you, pressing his face into your neck. "I'm already emotional enough as is."

A beat or two of silence passed between the two of you before he spoke up again.

"Was this," Yunho paused, hesitating for a second, "was this the first time you did something like this, or are there... more?"

You sighed. "Well, this was the first time I've messed up like this and used an actual razor blade, but in general? There's been a few instances, yeah. Most of them happened years ago, but lately, it started up again."

Yunho stayed quiet this time. As the silence stretched on, you began to grow worried. Is this the moment where he gets mad at you?

A sniffle broke through the air, quickly followed by another. The hold around your waist tightened.

"It's the socks, isn't it?" Yunho barely choked out, voice trembling.

Never have you felt so guilty in your life before.

"I thought it was weird, I wanted to ask you about it, I really did," he sobbed, burying his wet face further into your shirt. "I didn't want to make you feel bad about it if it was genuinely just something you preferred, so I held back, but it worried me anyway. I should have asked so much sooner."

"Yu..." You tried to turn around in his embrace, but he stopped you, not letting you see his tearful eyes. "Honey, it's not your fault in the slightest, please don't beat yourself up about it."

"But I should have-"

"Just listen to the same advice you gave me, hm? You never wanted this to happen, you wouldn't be so torn up about it otherwise. It's really not your fault."

With what you assumed to be a watery hum of agreement, Yunho nodded into your back.

You tried to turn around again, and this time, Yunho finally let you. You watched as his silhouette sat up, reaching around for the tissue box on the nightstand before wiping his tears and blowing his nose.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, crumpling the tissue and putting it away, "you're the one hurting and I'm making it all about myself."

You tutted softly as he laid back down, shuffling closer to him to drape yourself over his broad chest. "That's not true, Yun. I know this is really hard on you as well, you have all the right to be upset. Please don't hide it just because I'm also in pain."

"Okay," he accepted, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The room stayed quiet for another few minutes, save for the faint rustling of the sheets as you intertwined one of your hands with his.

"If it's okay," Yunho croaked in a careful, ginger tone, "could we maybe talk more about this tomorrow? I feel like I have over a million questions right now, but I don't want to overwhelm you when you should be resting."

You let out a small, sleepy chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I'll also feel a bit better if we talk about this some more tomorrow. It's a bit embarrassing even now when I know that you know, but I trust you enough to share this part of me, I think."

Yunho leaned down to kiss the top of your head, making you smile. "Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me. And please, never feel embarrassed about this. Just because this stuff is not talked about enough doesn't mean your feelings are wrong or not valid. We'll figure this out together, I promise. No matter what it takes."

"Okay. I look forward to tomorrow," you said, pressing a quick peck to his sternum before lying down again. "Goodnight, Yuyu."

"Goodnight, love."

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

(Also would once again like to say that this was not meant to romanticize SH in any way, and I hope it did not come across that way. Take care, everyone <3)

[minkiroo]

i loveblurbs like this it helps me put my own eating issues into perspective )): so cute

okay so like angsty idea for nct dream

idk but if your comfortable writing but could you do some texts w like nct dream being upset bcs their s/o wont eat?

like op had a problem in the past and it’s reoccurring and i can see an argument happening w some members wantinf to help but s/o feels a bit overwhelmed?? like their intentions are good?? but still yk?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ

cw! mentions of struggling w eating, implications of an ed / past ed, bad past w food.

pls don’t read this if it could be triggering to you!! tried to make it the least amount of triggering?? idk as much as i could.

pls take care of yourself!! ur beautiful just the way you are. eat good food n drink water 🤍🤍🤍

[minkiroo]

- break up

pairing: haechan x f!reader

warnings: vague allusions to depression but nothing graphic

genre: angst

note: i feel like all i have ideas for is like angsty depressive shit but if yall have any ideas for cute stuff id be down to write it :3

__________

my love <3: did i do something wrong?

the message stared at you on the lockscreen of your phone for the past two hours, taunting you. of course he did nothing wrong. how could haechan have done anything when all he did was support you, showing up at your doorstep during your darkest moments? wiping your tears, holding you close, staying awake through your late-hour sob sessions?

his canceled plans with friends were a testament to just how right he was to you. and you could only thank him by avoiding talking to him for the past 24hrs despite his efforts to message and call.

you sighed and flipped your phone over on its face on your dresser, making your way to the kitchen for a bottle of water. you grimaced as you ran your fingers through your hair - since when did your hair get this unruly so soon after a washing? you added a shower to your list of “errands” to run for the day and went on to drink your water.

the half full bottle of antidepressants taunted you on the counter. you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “these shitty pills don’t even work,” you muttered bitterly.

dragging yourself back to your room, you prepped yourself for a hot shower. you heard your phone vibrate on the dresser you left it on, but couldn’t be bothered to check the notification before locking the bathroom and washing your hair in the shower.

with not a single significant thought to cross your mind, you lost track of time as you fell into a trance, moving on autopilot to finish your shower routine. snapping out of it, you quickly finished and wrapped your hair and body in a towel, gently patting yourself dry to step out into the bedroom to get dressed.

opening the bathroom door that connected to your room, you turned to turn off the light before turning back. you jumped at the sight of a figure sitting on your bed, taking a second to register that it had been haechan.

“holy fucking shit you scared me!” you held your hand to your racing heart, catching your breath at his unexpected appearance. afterall, the apartment had been empty for days after your roommate went home to spend two weeks with her family. haechan, after dating you for a while, had received a key to the apartment for emergencies and visiting.

“sorry, i figured you would have seen the text i sent but it seems like you haven't thought to read any of them.” he replied bitterly. “what the hell happened?”

you maintained eye contact with him, holding your towel tight to your body.

“can i at least get dressed before we talk?” you questioned.

“by all means.” he says sarcastically, motioning towards your dresser before standing and stepping out of the room.

you quickly got dressed, throwing on a hoodie and shorts and squeezing the water out of your hair with your head wrap. shaking your hair out, you tried to make it as presentable as possible before hesitantly reopening the door and motioning for him to enter.

“are you going to tell me why you’ve been so distant recently?” he broke the silence.

you sighed. “i just havent felt my best recently - you know that..” you trailed off.

he sat on the edge of your bed, putting his head in his hands before looking back up at you. “that’s no excuse to completely ignore me when i’m just trying to check on you. as your boyfriend. i got fucking worried because i thought i did something-”

you shook your hands and head simultaneously, “no no.. you didn’t do anything i just didn’t want to bother you with my bullshit again..”

“how could you think youre bothering me?”

you gave a short laugh. “am i not? your canceled plans with friends because you decide to come here instead, o-or dealing with me canceling our own plans because i just can’t find the energy to get out of bed - does that not bother you? because i’d fucking hate me if i had to deal with that. it’s pathetic.”

he starts to get agitated. “if you needed space you could’ve said something and id understand, but just ignoring me and not letting me know that you’re fucking there is concerning to me.”

“oh my god, it was one day haechan-”

he stands up. throwing his hands up in exasperation, he exclaims, “you’ve been distant all week! if it’s something i did id like to know so i can fix it but if you don’t tell me then-” he pauses when you speak up, interrupting him.

“i think we should break up.”

he furrows his eyebrows, squinting at you. “what?”

you cleared your throat and repeated yourself. “i think we’d be better off not together.”

haechan was at a loss for words. “where is this coming from? i just figured we’d talk this out and move on - you want to break up?”

“do you not feel stuck and irritated having to deal with my issues constantly? you deserve to live your life without having to put your own needs on pause because you feel obligated to answer to my every beck and call… do you not see that?” you no longer were angry as much as you were desperate for him to realize how much of himself he had been giving up for you.

“why are you fixated on the idea that its such a burden to me to care for my girlfriend that i love? have i done anything to make you think im irritated with you?” he bit back.

“no, but-” he didnt let you finish.

“then why are you making assumptions on my behalf? i don’t want you to break up with me because you think i deserve it. im capable of making my own judgements about my stake in this relationship. but if you’re unhappy in this relationship, then im willing to walk away if itll be better for you.”

you opened your mouth to protest but you held yourself back, self-doubting thoughts firing through your head as lightspeed. you wanted to protest, to keep him with you, but you bit your tongue and looked down, avoiding the defeated look on his face.

“that’s all i needed to know. i’ll leave.”

you didn’t register the meaning of everything that had happened until you heard the front door shut, signaling his leave. leaving you in the quiet of your room, you felt your heartbeat race and nausea hit you.

and though he was left under the impression that this is what you wanted, you knew it couldnt have been further from the truth.

[minkiroo]

- changes

pairing: mark lee x f!reader

warnings: this story revolves around the reader having a restrictive eating disorder. if this triggers you in anyway, please do not read!! i write to help vent and materialize my feelings into words and this is just what im dealing with. there is some argument and language!!!!!

genre: angst, fluff, idk lol

note: def not proof read for edits and this is probably ass but it is what it is lol. im sorry if any of yall are dealing with this shit too. it sucks. also b/f/n means best friend’s name.

_______

whichever disordered bitch said to romanticize not eating obviously never had the (dis)pleasure of being sat in front of your best friend and boyfriend, having to defend yourself against their concerns and grievances.

had you been looking at them, you would’ve noticed [b/f/n]’s tense expression - eyebrows knitted, deep breathes through the nose - and mark fidgeting anxiously as he remained seated across from you in the living room. instead, your eyes fixated on the texture of the couch you were seated on, praying to every god that you could melt into the ground to never be seen again.

[b/f/n] continued to talk at you - though you only caught half of what she said… you’re ruining yourself… you’ve changed… where did my best friend go? and though you knew it was out of concern and anxiety, her shaky voice and harsh words stunned you. there was only so much you could take.

“are you done yet?”

your best friend paused her rant upon hearing your voice for the first time since you all sat down. “what was that?”

you cleared your throat, mustering up the courage to look at her blankly. “i said, are you done yet?”

eyes widening, she scoffed in disbelief.

“are you serious? am i done yet? you’re fucking torturing yourself and you expect me to sit around and watch it happen?”

“im literally fine; what’s it to you anyway?” your voice began to raise in anger.

mark sat watching the exchange escalate, unsure of how to respond. his eyes traveled back and forth between the two of you, his girlfriend and her best friend who came to him for support and advice about confronting you.

she gave a sarcastic laugh. “what’s it to me? im your best friend, [y/n]. we’ve been friends for years now and you expect me to not care? i feel bad suggesting we go out for dinner because i know you’ll be stressing over what to order. you’re distracted all the time. you’re tired. we hardly do anything together anymore. and i know it’s not about me but god.. is it so wrong to miss my best friend?” her anger slowly dissipated into desperation as she struggled to maintain a level voice and hold her tears in. you looked towards mark blankly and made eye contact with him, seeing the exasperation and upset in his face.

“we just want to help.” you heard him say softly.

it was your turn to scoff. “is this some ploy to make me out to be some freak or crazy person? i told you im fine - okay, maybe a bit stressed but who fucking isnt? i cant believe you two would just talk behind my back and make assumptions - are you implying i have an eating disorder? what the fuck?” you gave a dry laugh. you knew you were being irrational, but what else were you to do? you knew you had a problem, but why would anyone want to admit that in front of the two people they held dearest in their life?

moments pass before the front door to your shared apartment slammed as you watched [b/f/n] storm out with her bag, likely to clear her head. you stared at your lap, unsure of what to say. instead, you focused on catching your breath and calming your racing heart. the anxiety that had overtaken you manifested itself as a cold that enveloped you, delivering a shiver in response.

your head shoots up at the sound of mark’s voice. “do you really think she came to me worried about her best friend because she wanted to sabotage you somehow?” and while his question seemed accusatory, his voice conveyed nothing but genuine concern and care. he looked at you sincerely, leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

“i-fuck.” you responded breathlessly, running a hand through your hair anxiously. mark stands from his position on the couch opposite and moves to sit next to you, but not before you stand yourself and take a step back. he blinks at you. “i’ve obviously been a nuisance in your lives and thats the last thing i ever wanted… i think its best if i just..” you trailed off.

“best if you what?”

you bit your lip, doing everything in your power to hold your tears in. “you deserve some space away. i shouldnt be causing all of this stress and maybe… maybe some time apart would be good for you. for you both.”

“baby what are you saying? don’t be like that.” he reached out to you, pulling you into his arms and holding your body securely against his own. leaning down to place small kisses on the crown of your head, he felt your body begin to shake as you succumbed to your tears and anguish.

“im so, so sorry. it wasnt ever supposed to get this bad; i- i dont know what to do mark.. i feel so stuck.” you cried powerlessly. he rubbed your back soothingly as he watched you let yourself go.

mark, with his soft character and tender heart, found it difficult to maintain his composure when you had finally let yourself be so vulnerable in his presence. though he hated to admit it, he had anticipated this exact scene happening months ago when your friend had first expressed her concerns about your worsening eating and food anxiety. and though they agreed to remain passive, hoping by some chance that you wouldn’t fall any worse, your recent state had worried them far too much for comfort.

as you pulled away slightly to look up at him after a couple deep breaths, you noticed the few stray tears that trailed down his solemn face. you gave him a small smile and wiped his eyes.

“shhh… don’t cry; you’ll make me cry.” you laughed softly with tears lining your waterline. he shook his head lightly, sniffling. you continued, “i’ll be okay. give me time. i’m sorry i was an asshole earlier.”

“it was a high pressure situation. i dont blame you.” he breathed. you hang your head, head resting against his chest as you played with his fingers that was holding your own. “though i do think you owe [b/f/n] an apology. as she does to you. she was worried sick.”

you sighed, “yeah. i’ll call her now.”

you pulled away to grab a tissue, wiping your nose and shakily ringing her phone. after a heartfelt apology (on both sides) and perhaps a couple more tears shed, you both settled your guilt and hung up.

upon tossing your phone on the couch, you realized mark had likely disappeared into your bedroom. you move slowly to your room, seeing him seated on the edge of your bed, fidgeting with his fingers.

you sat next to him, the bed sinking slightly to lean you two slightly closer to each other. you laid down on your back, pulling him back with you to enjoy the view that was your white ceiling.

“may i ask why?”

you took a deep breath and held your stare at the ceiling.

“its always been like this mark. since i was in middle school and getting comments from family and classmates about my body. sometimes it just gets worse than usual.” you shrugged.

“im sorry.”

“why are you apologizing? it’s no one’s fault but my own.” you turned to him slightly, brushing away the hair that fell in front of his eyes. you gave him a small smile despite his consistent gaze looking upward.

“is there anything i can do to help?”

“ah-” you paused. “i wish i knew. i dont know how to undo nearly a decade of disordered eating and tormenting thoughts about my body.”

“does your therapist know? how has that been going?” he continued to ask sincerely.

you sighed, “i dont think ive been completely honest with her. maybe ill start there.”

“maybe that'll help.” he replied, turning on his side and propping himself up with his arm.

he looked down at you and smiled, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. you attempted to sit up without breaking the kiss but to no avail, giggling in response. your hands moved to run through his hair, as you reconnected, lips moving in sync desperately as he held your body close to his.

breathlessly - and with reddened lips - you pull away slowly. “i love you. i think i need a nap.”

“i love you too baby.” he adjusted himself so he was laying the right way on your bed, you following.

for the next 2 minutes as you settled down, rethinking all that went down, you closed your eyes and maintained silence as he did the same.

of course, no one can say for certain when or how recovery starts or happens. if it was a step by step guide, it would be so much easier to break free from the grasp of restriction, worried family and friends, guilt, and consequential fatigue. you and mark both knew this.

but knowing there was always someone there to watch you in concern, genuinely worried about your health and wellbeing helped to ease your heart just a degree more. and just knowing that would help you moving forward in the future.

[minkiroo]

- existential

pairing: jeno x f!reader

warnings: depression, explicit language. not graphic at all

genre: non idol au; angst, fluff

_________________

it wasn’t always that you felt this way.

childhood memories lined with sticky sweet popsicle laden summers and exciting school days shouldn’t have primed an adulthood so bleak and gray. after all, what was there to despair over? you were secure, you had a support system; objectively speaking, you were fine. and yet, weeks at a time, waves of nausea overtake you and disgust holds you captive as you lament over the meaning of all of… this.

you sigh as you stare at the ceiling, thoughts racing as you dreaded the moment you’d feel your feet hit the ground, marking a new day of work. no ounce of you was interested in leaving the warmth of your comforter, surrounded by the comfort of your poster-covered walls. but, as it always does, life goes on. at least the weather was okay.

walking through the building atrium to get to your only class for the day, you feel your feet drag ever so slightly as you move to sit through the hour lecture. feeling a buzz in your pocket, you pause in the empty aisle to check the notification.

jeno <3: hey baby, what are you up to right now?

jeno <3: wait youre in class arent you

jeno <3: shit

jeno <3: ok nvm later <3

you give a small smile as you feel your eyes begin to water - you were grateful he didn’t ask how you were. the last thing you wanted was to have to confront your unwarranted despair head on in the form of your boyfriend’s unending care and concern.

you: its okay its just a lecture i can talk

you: what are YOU up to…

jeno <3: i just wanted to see you that’s all

you: sounds suspicious

jeno <3: what’s so suspect about a guy wanting to see his beautiful amazing girlfriend? <3

a fragile heart and seemingly undeserved care was a recipe for disaster, evident by your attempts at keeping your tears at bay. you stare at the ceiling, willing yourself to maintain composure. you quickly send a message saying he could meet you at your dorm after class and put away your phone, hoping to numb yourself just enough to pay some degree of attention to the intro economics course you had to take.

the walk back towards your dorm was short, and you had little time to compose yourself before inevitably seeing jeno seated at the front stairs of the building. from the short distance that you stood away, you could see him clearly: tousled wavy hair (it had grown a bit since the beginning of the semester), a black hoodie and sweats to match, and his bookbag sat beside him. you couldnt help but smile as you made your way over, sitting next to him to signal your arrival.

“hey, you,” you nudged his shoulder with yours, a small smile lining your face.

he looked at you happily, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. you simultaneously scooched closer to him on the stairs, sighing at the warmth he provided.

he kissed your temple. “how was your day?” he said lowly, leaving small kisses in your hair.

“how was your bio quiz? you were worried about it last week.” you avoided, fixating your gaze on some random crack in the sidewalk ahead of you.

“mm.. it was good. i think- i hope. but that doesnt answer my question, tell me about your day,” he whined playfully.

you took a deep breath, attempting to answer him without any suspicion. “it was fine; same as any other friday. wake up, go to econ, eat something, hang out with you. typical friday.” you mustered enough courage to face him with a slight smile, lightly brushing away the hair that fell in front of his eyes.

he stood up suddenly, holding out his hand. standing with him, you looked at him curiously.

“i know you well enough to sense when you're not doing fine.” it was enough to push you over the edge.

looking down, you grab his hand and weakly motion at the building, whimpering, “can we please go inside?”

quickly grabbing his bag and motioning to take your own, you lead the way in, tapping your card and heading towards the elevator. the presence of others forced an uncomfortable silence, but rather than save you time for composure, all it did was cause your thoughts to spiral further.

what the hell was happening?

you took a deep breath before tapping into your suite, the quiet of the room welcoming the two of you with the click of the door closing behind.

“it’s really nothing jeno, i’m just having an off day.”

“would you like to talk about it?”

you scoffed lightly. “what is there to talk about? i don’t know why i feel shitty all the time but i do. and i know i have no reason to because objectively i'm fine and youre amazing and everything is okay and i'm doing great in my classes but everything still feels so fucking shitty and im disgusted by myself. i feel pathetic but i couldn't tell you why. because i dont fucking know.” at this point, your eyes had welled up with tears enough to weigh them down, quickly wiping your face with your sleeve.

“god, the last thing i want is to be pitied. i hate feeling like this. fuck.” you breathed, aggressively wiping at your eyes. and though he didn’t know what to say in that moment, he knew exactly what to do as he reached for your hands and instead pulled you close to him.

placing small kisses upon the top of your head as you weep, he rubs his hand against your back, almost as if imbuing you silently with the words “it’ll be okay”.

he pulls away slightly, wiping under your eyes and giving you a small smile. brushing the hair that fell in front of your face, he leaned in quickly to peck your lips.

“i may not know exactly what to say, but what i do know is that im here to listen without judgement. i don’t pity you. i love you. and it hurts to see you suffer alone when i’m willing to bear some of that burden with you.”

you sniffle, nodding and sighing as you internalize his words.

“did you want to spend the night at my apartment? mark’s home for the weekend so no one will be there but us. we can watch something and order in,” he offers. you weakly nod and whisper,

“yeah, i’d like that a lot.”

and as he motioned for you to sit on the living room couch, mumbling that he was grabbing some clothes and your toiletries from your room for the overnight stay, you smiled lightly as you played with the bracelet on your wrist.

as long as you had jeno, you knew you had somewhere to go even despite how uninviting the world may seem. and your place, at least now in this moment, was wherever he was.