fictionsoul

[fictionsoul]

Double trouble

Fem!reader x Kyuhyun

Synopsis: Due to an unexpected event, Kyuhyun and you will help the singer's sister with the complex task of caring for her two young children.

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, comfort, written with female pronouns, use of "(Y/N)".

w/c: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

Double trouble

The moon shone brightly in the sky, enveloping the buildings in its enormous silver halo. Twinkling stars dotted the night sky like a face covered in sparkling freckles.

The night view had you spellbound as you admired it from the balcony of the house where you lived with Kyuhyun.

Cho Ara, the singer's sister, had called that afternoon to ask if you could look after her little twins; obviously you had agreed, you couldn't leave two children in the hands of an unknown babysitter.

Kyuhyun had taken care of them before, and even the members of Super Junior had gotten along peacefully with them. And if people as chaotic and inexperienced in childcare as the members of the group had survived, it should be a piece of cake for you.

You tried to convince yourself that you were still awake because of the heat that kept you from sleeping, and not because of nerves about taking care of those children.

You had seen them twice, but on neither occasion had you had any contact beyond the customary greetings and farewells.

"What are you thinking about?" Kyuhyun asked, coming up behind you.

His warm hands rested on the cool skin of your shoulders, gently caressing you until they reached your arms, then turning you around so you were face to face.

His gaze traveled across your face, stopping as soon as your eyes met.

The idol watched you from a distance for several minutes. He had noticed how you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, how your fingers drummed on the railing at a rapid pace; he even counted the number of times you sighed while your gaze remained fixed in the distance.

"Nothing important," you muttered listlessly, trying to feign a serenity that you didn't feel.

"You can't lie to me when you have that 'I'm worried but I won't tell you why' look on your face," Kyuhyun leaned slightly toward you to kiss your forehead, right where the small wrinkles of your furrowed brow were beginning to form.

You sighed resignedly and hugged him, snuggling against his chest in search of a little peace of mind, something to anchor you to the present so that your mind wouldn't start conjuring up scenarios that didn't exist and, to a certain extent, were unlikely.

"Do you think the twins will like me?" you asked, muffling your words against his chest.

"Don't worry about it. Even if they don't like you, they have no choice but to stay here for two days."

His words did not calm your mind. On the contrary, you began to worry that they would have to stay with you out of obligation and not out of any kind of genuine affection.

"How come you sing succh beautiful ballads but are terrible at offering comfort?" you said, breaking the embrace to look him in the face. "Just tell me that everything will be okay."

The singer smiled amusedly and stroked your hair as if you were a puppy seeking his attention and care.

"Yes, yes," he said, patting you lightly on the head, "everything will be fine."

You let out the breath you had been holding and smiled back. You still doubted that everything would end well, but you wanted to believe him. You needed to cling to those words as if they were a lifeline.

As soon as Kyuhyun stopped stroking your hair, you took his hand and went back inside the room to take your place on the mattress. You had to get enough rest to welcome the two little creatures early in the morning.

Despite lying on a soft mattress, wearing the most comfortable pajamas you owned, and covered by the coolest sheets you could ask for, you couldn't fall asleep.

You basically remained stiff as a board, with your back straight on the mattress and your arms static at your sides. You needed to relax, but your body didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"Can't you sleep?" Kyuhyun murmured after a couple of minutes of not feeling any change in your breathing.

No words were necessary. You just pressed your body against his, and the singer put his arm around your waist to hold you in a warm embrace.

"My mind is racing a little, that's all," you replied as you closed your eyes to do a little breathing exercise, one that would hopefully help you fall asleep. But then Kyuhyun's humming interrupted any attempt at concentration.

His melodic voice continued to emulate the sounds and rhythm of one of his many songs, probably 'Daystar' or maybe 'Moving,' you couldn't tell when your mind was intoxicated with the echo of his voice.

Your senses gradually focused on allowing you to rest, and without warning, your breathing slowed down, as did your heartbeat. And if there was anything else in your mind besides Kyuhyun's humming, you had completely forgotten it.

Your body relaxed, and Kyuhyun kissed your bare shoulder before whispering "sweet dreams," to which you could no longer respond because you had fallen deeply asleep.

You were still in your pajamas when you decided to prepare a welcome breakfast for the singer's nephews.

On the kitchen table, you had some oranges cut in half so you could squeeze them as soon as the little ones arrived and offer them fresh orange juice. In addition to that, you had prepared two bowls of chopped seasonal fruit for your guests.

You were just waiting for the toaster to pop up the two slices of bread so you could put them on the children's plates.

Everything was almost ready; you just needed to change your clothes and prepare breakfast for Kyuhyun and yourself.

You returned to the room, seriously considering what clothes to wear for a day spent with two young children who were still in kindergarten.

As soon as you entered the room, Kyuhyun stopped you with a surprise hug. His arms wrapped around you before you could react, and you even let out a sharp cry from the shock, but you laughed, and that finally brightened the singer's morning.

"Why did you leave me alone so early?" he complained, pouting slightly, which you couldn't see because you were pressed against his chest. "It's terrible to wake up alone."

"You get used to it quickly. You just have to live with an idol for it to become routine," you replied accusingly.

"Remind me later, so I don't accept recordings in the middle of the night again."

"I already told you that there's no need to change your job because of me," you repeated like a mantra. "I know what I got myself into when this all started."

Kyuhyun finally loosened his embrace and pulled you away from his body to cradle your face in his hands. It was then that you allowed your cheek to rest on his palm, while his thumb caressed your cheekbones, just below your eyes.

"Don't stress, the boys are good, they won't cause any trouble, and I'm sure they'll love you very much," he murmured to dispel your doubts and insecurities.

"I hope so," you whispered, closing your eyes and allowing the softness of his caresses to dispel any lingering doubts in your mind.

The children's father arrived with them holding hands, and the screen showing what was happening in front of the door showed it all.

Kyuhyun opened the door, and you quickly walked over to stand beside him and welcome them.

While the singer exchanged a few words with his sister's husband, you crouched down to look at the two little ones who would be in your care for the next two days.

"Good morning," you greeted them in the sweetest, most cheerful tone you could muster so as not to seem like a threatening adult to them. "I'm (Y/N), what are your names?"

"Yejun," one of them replied.

"Hajun," added the other.

You watched them both closely, trying desperately to find something that made them look different. If it weren't for the color of their clothes, you could have sworn they were a pair of clones. They were like two peas in a pod.

"All right, Yejun, Hajun, who's hungry?" you sang as if you were the most patient and kind human being in the world.

"(Y/N), they're two children, not a pair of puppies you talk to sweetly so they'll wag their tails and do tricks," Kyuhyun interrupted, closing the door behind him.

Your face flushed slightly with embarrassment as you stood up again to return to your usual behavior.

The idol laughed at your reaction, causing both children to look at him with an expression of complete bewilderment.

"Let's go to the dining room, evil twins. Even if your aunt falls for your charms, you can't fool me," he said, ruffling the children's hair, causing the cute pair to laugh.

The three walked over to take their seats, moving step by step away from the front door.

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach tightened as soon as Kyuhyun uttered the word 'aunt'. Becoming part of the family was a serious matter, something that had come from the singer's lips without any pressure involved.

With a silly smile, you followed the three men who were now in the dining room.

With slightly trembling hands, you placed the two bowls of fruit in front of Yejun and Hajun, taking extra care not to mix up their names as you told them they could start eating whenever they wanted.

You went into the kitchen to serve the two cups of coffee and the pair of chicken bagels you had made for Kyuhyun and yourself. The singer joined you in the kitchen and helped you carry the serving tray, placing everything on the table while taking the opportunity to lightly caress the back of your hand or tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear that was blocking your view.

The two little ones just watched the family dynamic without really understanding what was happening. They just smiled and chewed their fruit noisily.

"It's very sweet," Hajun commented.

"Is that bad?" you asked, alarmed, immediately thinking that it was your fault for feeding those two small, defenseless children irresponsibly.

"Delicious," added the other, still chewing on a piece of watermelon.

Your soul finally returned to your body when you saw the twins' bright smiles as they began to wave their forks at each other as if in a sword fight.

It was almost obvious that you were terrible at understanding children. It wasn't entirely due to lack of experience, but rather because you were too aware that those two little ones were members of Kyuhyun's family and that, as of today, you had earned the title of 'aunt' to the pair of infants.

After a hearty breakfast, it was time to take them to school in Kyuhyun's car. The two children left excitedly, both arguing about whose turn it was to sit in the front seat.

Among the arguments presented, they mentioned a vacation in Japan and the time their mother carried one of them on her lap while the other was left in the back seat.

"No one is going in the front except your aunt (Y/N)," Kyuhyun cut in, causing the two children to give him an annoyed look. "She knows the way to the school well and will help me get there."

Without giving the children time to argue, he opened the car doors and the twins climbed into the back seat amid unintelligible protests. Taking advantage of the children's lack of attention, the idol used his proximity to the car door to wrap his free arm around your waist and plant a kiss on your lips. It was a peck, a common gesture that made you blush as if you had done something forbidden.

"Put on your seatbelts," he ordered as soon as he got into the car, "or I'll have to tell your mom to come pick you up, and you'll miss the surprise meal that Aunt (Y/N) and I are preparing for you.

The children smiled excitedly and stopped protesting to fasten their seatbelts around their small bodies.

As soon as the car pulled onto the highway, you began to pay attention to the road and the rearview mirror, your eyes straying slightly to observe the passengers on board.

The two children made you think of endless ideas about what motherhood might be like. You could see in them the child version of Kyuhyun. Hajun had his smile, and Yejun's eyes sparkled with the same intensity as when Kyuhyun thought of a witty remark to get his way.

Although the twins were not the singer's children, you could see the many similarities they shared, and that planted a seed in your mind and heart, one that you didn't know whether to continue cultivating or let dry up.

"What are you looking at?" whispered Kyuhyun, loosening one hands grip on the steering wheel to place his hand on yours, which was resting on your leg. In a tender gesture, he brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed each one delicately.

"Your nephews are adorable," you replied, looking away from the rearview mirror and back at the road.

"I know that look, and I don't like it," he smiled worriedly. "It's the same look my sister had before she took the plunge and brought them into this world," he added, nodding toward the twins. "Let's discuss this when they leave, okay?"

"That won't be necessary. I don't think this is a good time."

"Let's talk about it later," he insisted.

You nodded and let out a sigh that made the idol chuckle softly.

Once the car parked, one of the children unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the car while the other continued to struggle with the safety device, pressing and pulling on the strap to free himself from it.

His hands moved frantically as he growled in frustration. Kyuhyun had already gotten out of the car, and the child still couldn't fully trust you, but you were the only person he could turn to.

"Aunt (Y/N)," he murmured hesitantly in the midst of his desperation, "help."

Your heart sank as soon as his anguished eyes met yours. Immediately, a broad smile appeared on your lips as you stretched across the seat to reach the seatbelt buckle.

"Don't worry," you murmured, trying to calm him down a little, enough so that he would stop fidgeting in his seat. "You just have to press hard and…" The seatbelt buckle released, and the boy was finally able to get out of the car. "There you go."

The little boy said nothing, he just ran off to catch up with his brother and Kyuhyun while you remained inside the car, waiting for the singer to return.

That activity was too important for you to interfere with, but when the twins ran toward the car shouting your name, your heart sank and you had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in your throat and the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes.

If things continued like this, those children would be your undoing.

The afternoon heat filled the kitchen with a cozy atmosphere. With Kyuhyun cutting vegetables and the children coloring while they waited for their food. The whole scene evoked the image of a happy and fulfilled family.

Kyuhyun was the first to notice, while you were busy seasoning the chicken before frying it in thin, breaded strips.

The idol's eyes lingered on you for a moment. He carefully analyzed the way you went about such a mundane task, one he had rarely had the chance to see you do.

Then, the almost inaudible whispers of the children reached him, both chatting as best they could about the moment when you had helped Yejun unbuckle his seatbelt. His attention was drawn to the number of times they had called you 'auntie' instead of your name, and he smiled.

"Auntie," one of the twins called out for your attention.

"What happened?" you replied, completely focused on the chicken batter, and Kyuhyun smiled adoringly again.

Apparently, you hadn't noticed that dynamic, or maybe you were already more familiar with it, but the fact that his nephews accepted you so quickly made his stomach flip and his mind wander to an unexplored idea.

As the voices around him grew distant, the singer could imagine you like that, cooking beside him while their own children —two beings created by both of you— chatted animatedly and waited for the two of you.

He could be sure that whether their children were boys or girls, they would both be beautiful because you would be their mother. And the idea, far from being strange, was pleasant. Pleasant and even plausible.

By the time Kyuhyun came to his senses, everyone's attention was focused on him, who continued to stare into space with a silly smile on his face.

"Hey, balladeer," you called out to get his attention, "welcome back to reality," you said with a teasing smile. "The food is ready, the kids are waiting for you."

"Sit down and eat with them, I'll go buy some dessert and be right back."

Kyuhyun needed to get out of there to clear his head for a moment.

His mind had been racing at breakneck speed, and now he couldn't shake the thought of having his own family. With you. Because you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He walked down the steps one by one until he reached the parking lot, not even able to concentrate enough to get in the car. He just needed a little peace and quiet.

He took a few steps away from home and a little closer to the local shops. He had lied about going to buy dessert, so he couldn't come back empty-handed.

The sun's rays shining directly on his face, the birds singing in the treetops, and the incessant screeching of tires on the asphalt brought him back to the present.

The walk was having an effect; at least he had managed to calm down, and his thoughts were no longer revolving around you and non-existent babies.

The impromptu walk took him to the front of the bakery where they made your favorite cake. Without thinking twice, he decided that would be the dessert all of you would enjoy.

The walk back home was calmer, with fewer things on his mind. The only thought that had accompanied him during the journey was to make you happy while you were still together.

Sooner rather than later, he arrived home, entered the password into the digital lock, and entered the apartment. No one welcomed him; none of the three people at home came running to see what the aforementioned dessert was.

He walked alertly, expecting some kind of ambush from his nephews, but the further he went, the louder the sound of the children's laughter became, as well as yours.

Kyuhyun found them all in the kitchen, behind the sink where you were washing the dishes while telling the two children some silly story. You were pretending to be different voices, making noises for them, and sometimes throwing a few drops of water at them for the children's amusement.

His heart melted inside his chest and his breath caught in his throat. He was ready to encounter anything but that image, so homely, so familiar.

You had clearly won the children's love, and not only that, but now their hearts belonged to you completely.

"I'm home," he announced with a sigh.

You looked up and turned quickly to see him back in the kitchen. Kyuhyun had an indecipherable expression on his face, and his eyes scanned every inch of your face.

He analyzed you precisely and carefully, as if it were the first time he had truly observed you. As if he couldn't believe you were there, in front of him, washing dishes and taking care of his nephews.

"Did something happen on the way to buy dessert?" you asked him seriously, but he shook his head.

"It's cake!" the children shouted, interrupting the brief conversation between the idol and you.

When your attention shifted from Kyuhyun to the cardboard box on the table, a smile lit up your face. You had just been thinking that it would be a good idea to buy that cake, your favorite. You wanted to share it with the children, and now it was there, on the table.

"Since when can you read minds?" you asked, pleasantly impressed.

Your eyes sparkled as brightly as your smile, and his nephews applauded as if carrying that cream-covered bread was the greatest feat of their lives, and then he knew he was lost.

That troublesome but charming couple had made him realize that you were the right person for him. That it was with you that he wanted to start a family.

"No kiss, no cake," Kyuhyun proclaimed, allowing his soul to be enveloped in the love and warmth that only a family can provide.

Yejun tugged on the singer's sleeve so that he would bend down to his height, the little boy puckered his lips and pressed them against his uncle's cheek.

Hajun kissed his other cheek before the idol straightened up again to your height, holding your gaze.

The way he looked at you, the mischievous smile he evoked, and the slight nod of his head as if asking for permission to act, was what completely disarmed you.

Kyuhyun pressed his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss; after all, they were in front of two little ones who were watching the scene intently.

"The big slice is for Aunt (Y/N)!" the singer declared, prompting applause from the twins as if it were a historic milestone.

Kyuhyun couldn't be more in love with you or more certain that you would be a perfect mother, one capable of caring for and filling her own family with love. And without abandoning that thought, he knew he couldn't wait any longer to have that conversation he knew you also wanted to have.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

hi! I love your fics! do you still take requests?

I'd love to read a Kyu fic in which you both take a day off from work, do stuff like cooking togehter and just enjoy each other's presence because it gives you comfort

Sorry for the delay but while I was writing this, antoher idea popped up in my mind and I felt the urge to develop the new prompt, fortunately tomorrow I'll post that other story 😊

But for today here we go with this request 🫡

Time off

Fem!reader x Kyuhyun

Synopsis: A sweet morning of rest, just a day off work with your life partner: Kyuhyun.

Warnings: None, fluff, cuddling, comfort, daily life, written with female pronouns, use of "(Y/N)", and a pinch of grammar mistakes.

w/c: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

Time off

A sigh, the little goldfinch singing on the windowsill, and your steady, peaceful breathing were the first sounds that reached you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Without opening your eyes, you took the thin sheet and moved discreetly to cover your body with it again. Unfortunately, you were no longer able to fall asleep and resigned yourself to waking up completely.

You didn't know exactly what time it was, but the sun was not yet streaming through the bedroom window, and the noise of morning traffic did not reach the apartment you shared with Kyuhyun.

You shifted again under the sheets, trying not to wake the person sleeping next to you, but his arm tightened around your waist and his legs tangled with yours, pinning you against his body.

You smiled as soon as his skin touched yours. The warmth radiating from his body was better than the one provided by the sheets covering you.

"Good morning," you whispered, your voice still sleepy.

"Hmm…" was the singer's response as he pulled you closer in the middle of the embrace, just so he could stay in bed longer, next to you.

"Kyu. Honey. It's time to get up."

"Hmm…" he moaned again as he caressed the space between your neck and collarbone with the tip of his nose.

The contact tickled your skin, instinctively forcing you to move away from the singer, but Kyuhyun didn't stop. With his hands, he caressed those sensitive spots on your body just to make you laugh and protest in the midst of the sudden tickling attack.

"Wait," you protested in the midst of the battle of limbs. "I need to breathe."

It was then that Kyuhyun stopped and laughed, covering his eyes with his forearm before stretching out on the mattress to end his rest.

He couldn't remember exactly the last time he had shared a bed with you until dawn, and he was sure he could count on one hand the number of times he had heard your laughter when you woke up.

The job as an idol was demanding, too demanding, but you were understanding and had supported his growth while working your own way in digital marketing.

"Good morning, my love," Kyuhyun greeted you, propping himself up on one elbow and resting his head on his hand to lean in and kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder.

The tender gesture forced your lips into a smile filled with the love you felt for the singer who looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in his life.

"Stay in bed a little longer," he said, patting the empty spot next to him, "I'll take care of breakfast."

"And miss the chance to see your culinary skills again? Forget it."

Kyuhyun laughed and stood up, throwing a pillow at your face and then runs to the bathroom to wash his face before starting the day.

The singer stood in front of the stove with his hands on his hips and his brow furrowed. He now realized that he had no idea where things were in his own home.

He had always found a little peace in preparing his meals, but since you had started living together, you were the one who took care of that, and he had never bothered to even touch a frying pan to make a couple of scrambled eggs.

"What are you looking for?" you asked once you were ready to face the world.

"A pot for―

Kyuhyun's words stuck in his throat as soon as he saw you standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His previously worried expression changed to a smile that reached the corners of his eyes.

You looked cute, even sweet. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts that reached your knees and one of his knitted vests to make the morning chill more bearable.

Kyuhyun walked up to you and immediately his hands rested naturally on your hips, his lips tracing their way to yours in light kisses that descended from the top of your head to your lips.

He was kissing you. It was a slow and gentle kiss. A light contact that made your heart beat faster.

"Do you know where the ramen pot is?" he asked, as if he hadn't just knocked you off balance with that kiss.

You blinked, feigning confusion, smiling slightly as you tried not to show the amusement reflected in your eyes.

"I don't remember," you said, tapping your chin with one of your fingers, completely pretending to have forgotten, "maybe another kiss will help me get my thoughts back in order."

The singer laughed at the joke and kissed you again, this time a little deeper but also more fleeting.

"Is it on the shelf?" you whispered.

The singer kissed you again.

"Did you check the dishwasher?"

Another kiss.

Finally, you let out a laugh that stopped the displays of affection. You took a step to the side and began to move around the kitchen, right to the spot where the missing pot was.

With a quick movement, you opened the oven door and took out the pot, causing Kyuhyun to give you a questioning look as you placed the pot on the kitchen counter.

"Why was it―" You interrupted his words with a sudden kiss, just a touch that silenced him completely.

"Shh," you placed your index finger against his lips, "now you know that's where it belongs."

Kyuhyun didn't protest, he just took the pot and put it back on the stove to heat up some water. Fettuccine Alfredo would be the main course.

"(Y/N)" he called you sweetly, and when you responded to his call, he finally turned his face to look at you. "Could you slice the mushrooms?"

"Anything else, chef?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The broccoli too, please."

"Got it, give me a few seconds."

You turned on your phone and played the music from the movie 'Ratatouille' while you placed the cutting board and knife on the work table.

Kyuhyun laughed at your wit as he seasoned the water before it came to a boil. That's where he would cook the pasta, and he needed it to have a good flavor that was more noticeable than the flour and semolina it was made from.

Your hands moved skillfully over the two ingredients Kyuhyun had requested. You could almost do it with your eyes closed, but then a pair of hands slid around your waist and stopped your movements, pinning your wrists.

The scene was both funny and romantic at the same time. Kyuhyun wasn't that kind of person, at least not on a day-to-day basis. He was more the kind of person who saved those displays of affection for special moments like anniversaries or birthdays.

His hands gently grasped yours and guided your movements, sinking the knife into the broccoli as if that activity required pinpoint precision.

You allowed yourself to rest your head against the front of his shoulder, and the idol leaned back just enough to place a kiss on your temple.

"Hey chef," you murmured softly, your voice coming out as a melodic whisper, "the water must be boiling by now."

He released his grip and walked over to the pot, which was already steaming through the glass lid. Kyuhyun cooked the pasta precisely, waiting until it was just right and not overcooked.

The rest of the preparation was easier; he just needed to stir the sauce with the previously cooked vegetables, and although your broccoli was slightly overcooked, for you the taste of that breakfast was worthy of being served in any renowned restaurant.

"You should give me the recipe so I can make it again when I miss you," you murmured, waving your fork in front of your face. "It was delicious."

You brought the fettuccine to your mouth and chewed, delighting in the delicate flavor of the Alfredo sauce. In the middle of the bite, one corner of your lips was stained with sauce, a funny, thick white speck.

Kyuhyun smiled tenderly and wiped away the evidence that you had thoroughly enjoyed your meal, removing the sauce and taking advantage of the contact to caress your cheekbone with his thumb.

"You're beautiful."

The words came out of his mind without even thinking about it, and realizing that made him blush slightly, as if he were a teenager trying to win you over.

"Oh dear, we woke up feeling flirty," you said once you had finished eating. "It's my turn," you smiled, "I'll tell you something very sweet." You narrowed your eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to speak again. Just when you noticed his eagerness getting the better of him, you fired. "I love you."

Kyuhyun dramatically brought his hands to his chest, right over his heart, and pretended to faint, as if he had been shot at point-blank range.

The rest of breakfast passed too quickly amid jokes, compliments, and anecdotes none of you had enough time to share.

After that hearty breakfast and already looking for a place to eat, both curled up on the living room sofa.

Kyuhyun was leaning back against the armrest of the chair, and you had your head on his lap. Neither of you spoke or moved; you shared the same space without interrupting each other's activities.

You checked some social media when your eyes weren't on the lines of the book you hadn't had time to finish reading. And the singer memorized his lines for the next musical he was auditioning for.

Sometimes he hummed one of the songs, and other times it was you who laughed at the clever dialogue the author had created between the characters.

When the idol's legs went numb from the pressure of your head on his lap, he had no choice but to signal you to straighten up and move closer to him, and that's how he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

Time keep going, and the idol's hands had already caressed various parts of your body. The caresses began on your arm, continued on your waist, and now he was massaging your fingers, all of it done distractedly and unconsciously.

"Honey," you sang, interrupting the singer's reading, "it's time to eat."

Kyuhyun shifted in his seat and stretched his arms above his head, one of his shoulders cracking along with his lower back. He had been sitting for too long, and his body was now complaining.

"Come on, I made the reservation, and I don't think they can hold the table for us for much longer."

As night threatened to darken the atmosphere, and the two returned from a stroll through the city center under the pretext that it would help the food go down easier, Kyuhyun stopped walking near a staircase.

He pointed his finger toward the horizon, right where the sun was setting. The sun's rays reflected through the clouds, filling the sky with a spectacle of golden and orange lights, one that perfectly framed your features as those tones bathed the exposed area of your skin.

"Stay still, let me take a picture of you," Kyuhyun ordered, and you smiled as you struck a pose to look good in the middle of the sudden photo shoot.

Sometimes the flash went off, and other times only the sound of the app on the phone indicated that the idol had captured your image with the lens. The process, although time-consuming, was memorable for both of you.

"Can I see the photos?" you asked, standing on tiptoe to see the screen of his phone.

Kyuhyun turned the device toward you, showing you an image where the sunset was wonderful but your silhouette was melted into the shadows, as if you were some kind of evil apparition approaching the camera.

"It looks like someone set off a bomb behind you," he murmured with a laugh. You just hit his shoulder with the palm of your hand in protest, and he laughed, lifting the device away from you so you couldn't delete those disastrous photos.

Of course, some others had turned out well, but you didn't need to know that. It was more satisfying for the singer to see you arguing over some poorly taken photographs.

The idol started running while you chased him, demanding that he delete those images that portrayed you in an unflattering light.

Kyuhyun laughed as he took long strides, and you protested as you tried to catch up with him. Soon you managed to reach him amid shoving, which ended with both of you sprawled on the floor of the hallway leading to the front door of the apartment.

Several neighbors came out, alarmed by your screams, laughter, and protests, but when they saw the two of you lying on the floor laughing hysterically, they did nothing but look at you disapprovingly before returning to their homes.

"Open up before someone calls the police," Kyuhyun said, trying to calm his breathing after the race and the subsequent tickle fight.

Once inside the apartment, the idol picked you up in his arms, cradling your body and carrying you around the house as if you were a pair of newlyweds.

While Kyuhyun held you, he bent down to cover your face with little kisses that made you laugh, lighting up the entire living room of his home.

He carefully placed you on the sofa and sat down next to you, allowing both of your emotions to settle after the rollercoaster ride you had been on in less than twenty-four hours.

"Have I told you today that I love you?" whispered the idol, stroking your hair with the back of his hand, losing himself in the scent of your shampoo and the soft texture of the strands his fingers were separating.

"You didn't say it, but you showed it," you replied with your eyes closed, enjoying the gentle caresses Kyuhyun was giving you. "Today you cooked with me, I got to read part of the script for your musical, and we had a tickle fight," you listed, raising your fingers one by one. "What more could I ask for?"

You felt fulfilled, happy to be able to spend the whole day in the singer's company. You weren't lying when you said you didn't need anything else, it was enough to have him to yourself twenty-four hours a day, even if you had to spend at least eight of those hours lying down.

"Perhaps the greatest demonstration of love?"

"Are you asking me to do that?"

"I'm talking about a kiss," he clarified before your mind wandered to another kind of affectionate gesture. His ears had turned crimson as he avoided making eye contact with you, "but since you were expecting something else, I'm not going to give it to you."

You still found his behavior endearing. No matter how long you had been together or how many experiences you had shared over the years, he still behaved as if you two were a pair of teenagers in love.

"What else could I be talking about? Clearly, we're both thinking about a kiss," you argued, pouting.

The singer laughed and finally gave in to the request. With two fingers, he held your chin and tilted your face slightly, just enough so that his lips were at the same height and your breaths mingled in the small space between both.

Your heart beat expectantly and your eyes closed slowly to focus all your attention on the sensation of his lips against yours. When contact was made, a spark ignited inside you.

His hands held you gently, as if you would disappear if he demanded too much. His lips danced to the same rhythm as yours, in a slow and tortuous movement.

You could hear your pulse pounding in your ears, but when a soft moan escaped your lips followed by a growl from the singer, your whole world collapsed and your body reacted, begging for more.

Kyuhyun placed his hand on the back of your neck to deepen the kiss while you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him in place.

The lack of air was what stopped the act. Both of you were panting, trying to get oxygen into your lungs while your foreheads remained pressed against each other, breaking the kiss but never breaking your closeness.

"I love you," Kyuhyun finally whispered in a velvety voice.

He couldn't help saying it and didn't want to stop; he could repeat those two words a thousand times and it would still feel like he was saying them for the first time.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Boss (HC)

Assistant fem!reader x boss!Yesung

Synopsis: Here are some headcanons about what Yesung would be like if he were your boss.

Warnings: This could be a big mess with the proper structure os a headcanons but I'll try to adjust to the style, fluff and grammar mistakes.

w/c: 2k.

a/n: It's just a few ideas so as to show the way I make headcanons (?) only if you have curiosity and want to make a request 😅.

MASTERLIS

Boss (Headcanons)

Yesung is the grumpy boss who can reprimand his staff with just one of his sharp glances. He is good with words, but a furrowed brow or the raising of one of his eyebrows is always enough to make himself understood. Some of the employees still fear crossing his path.

His deep gaze searched for you in every corner of the hallway leading to his office. You weren't sitting at your desk, and he hadn't seen you in the elevators either. He mentally noted the reprimand for not being at your workstation.

He waited a couple of minutes in front of the wooden desk, running his fingertips over the cover of the notebook where you wrote down everything he told you. That space smelled like you. He checked his wristwatch again and saw that five minutes had passed. You hadn't returned from wherever you were.

Another couple of minutes passed, and his annoyance quickly turned to concern. You never left your workstation without notice, and you never missed your activities without justifying your absence.

You were in his office, arranging the documents on his desk just the way he liked to find them. No smudges, no dog-eared corners, and each one sorted from most to least important. Everything was neat and properly aligned. You even picked up the folder that was on top of the rest and held it up to your lips to blow away a piece of lint that had fallen on it.

The door opened and you quickly turned to see who it was. Your lips were still pressed together in a pouty line while your fingers clutched the documents.

"So, you were here." Yesung opened his eyes wide when he heard the relief in his voice, an unusual tone when he spoke to you. He tightened his tie knot a little to get rid of his sudden nervousness and cleared his throat. "Are you planning on staying here all day? Get out of my office and get to work. And please, don't put your lips anywhere near the documents again or you might ruin them with your lipstick."

He chided himself for using a firmer tone than usual this time. Not seeing you anywhere all day had made him believe you might have quit, increasing his concern about finding you.

The rest of the day he spent strangely annoyed with you. He gave you cold looks but checked from time to time to make sure you were still there, at your desk, near him, where you always belonged.

He slams the folders down on your desk to make sure you pay attention to his demands.

The files are organized in a complicated way that only the two of you understand. At first it was strange, but then it turned out to be efficient for both of you.

The coffee god. There must always be coffee in the office machine, or you'll have to leave your desk to run and get some.

When attending company parties, he always isolates himself and tries to socialize as little as possible. If he doesn't get involved with the staff, there will be no need to engage in unnecessary conversations with any of them.

It was the end-of-year party and the stress of finishing your work had consumed you, so you decided to drink that day even though you knew you didn't have much tolerance for alcohol.

Two hours passed and you were already completely drunk. Your rosy cheeks, the weak smile dancing on your face, and the inability to keep your back straight betrayed the state you were in.

The first notes of the music reached you like an invitation to dance, so with the courage that only alcohol can provide, you jumped up, right in the middle of the tables, and began to perform a strange and provocative dance while a Christmas carol played in the background. Nothing there was more out of place than you.

Yesung heard the employees laughing; his attention shifted from the plate in front of him to the employees who were doubled over with laughter.

All it took was for your boss to pay attention to his surroundings for him to spot you making a terrible spectacle of yourself in front of all the staff present. Yesung closed his eyes and took a deep swig of the beer he hadn't dared to touch, then got up to dance next to you, making movements just as uncoordinated as yours.

It was the most ridiculous act ever seen in the company, and the story went down in history.

The next day, he began to treat you less formally.

He likes you to wear accessories. Bracelets, necklaces, and earrings—it doesn't matter; he always reacts positively when he sees you wearing them. He even gave you a watch that turned out to be the women's version of the one he always wore.

He doesn't usually eat during work, but when he sees that you don't have lunch either, it's time to make a reservation at a restaurant you like.

It was the third time that day that the boss had walked past your desk, nothing unusual about that, except that only ten minutes had passed since his previous walk.

"Do you need something?" you asked when you saw him looking over your desk. "Have you lost something?"

No, Yesung hadn't lost anything, nor did he notice that you were going to lunch. He glanced over your bag and didn't see the usual lunch box you used to carry with you. Once again, you had skipped lunch.

"Reserve a table for two where we always sit," he ordered, checking the time on his watch as if he had something important to do. He was quite good at acting. "I have a meeting and you're coming with me," he explained in response to the question you hadn't asked.

You knew his schedule, you were aware of his scheduled meetings, and you had no idea about this sudden meeting; in any case, your duty was to obey him and not question his decisions.

Mysteriously, the other person never showed up for the meeting and you ended up having lunch with him.

From time to time, you've heard him singing in his office, sometimes emotional ballads and other times alternative rock. You think he doesn't notice, but he knows you like his voice and does it on purpose.

He changes his outfit all the time. Rumor has it that no one has seen him wear the same outfit twice since he joined the company.

Overtime is prohibited. He likes to be alone at night, doing the work that employees couldn't finish or correcting the reports that you were supposed to review.

He doesn't let you leave until he's finished, because that's when he can watch you sitting in the corner of the office playing with something on the desk.

You could rest assured knowing that your coworkers had the benefit of saying 'no' to overtime, the only sacrifice you had to make was that you had to take it and spend it working side by side with the boss.

"It's late and I'm not doing anything at the office. Do you think I can go home now?" you complained, spinning slowly in your office wheeled chair.

"There's still work to be done. Check the spelling in this report."

Yesung handed you a leather folder containing a sheet of paper with his handwriting on it. You didn't understand why he always did that; it was always spell check and then having to transcribe it letter by letter on the computer.

You didn't understand why he refused to scan it and extract the text with some computer program, let alone why he wouldn't let you work at your desk with your computer equipment. No, you had to be by his side using his computer.

Your fingers furiously typed out every letter of the damn report, your lips articulating the words as your hands moved nimbly across the keys. For Yesung, it was quite a spectacle.

Seeing you so focused on the computer screen, reciting the words he had written, tapping your index finger lightly on your lips. That was the small privilege Yesung could afford.

During meetings, you sit next to him. It doesn't matter that the other assistants have to stand behind their bosses, if anyone suggests that you should stand up like everyone else, he gives them one of his now famous threatening looks and the subject will never be brought up again by that person.

He doesn't deny the hallway gossip in which he is the protagonist. He simply believes that time will put everyone in their place and will patiently wait for the perfect moment to mock those who spread it.

Two weeks had passed since the rumor that you were dating your boss had spread throughout every corner of the company building. Even the maintenance department was aware of it.

You fought back, denying the facts, trying to prove that the rumors were unfounded and that every word was a horrible, poorly crafted lie. But it was the talk of the entire building, and it didn't seem like your coworkers wanted to forget about it.

It was just a matter of everyone connecting the dots. The same wristwatch, the sudden trips to restaurants, the consistency with which he asked the receptionists about you every time you left to run an errand, and, above all, the night of the strange Christmas dance.

The facts were laid out, and at some point you had allowed yourself to doubt the nature of your relationship with Yesung. Although you were sure that your relationship had always been professional, your boss's small acts of courtesy and attention now seemed to you to be sufficient reason to doubt his intentions.

"Why don't you deny the rumors?" you asked him on one occasion when you went to fill the coffee bean container.

"Rumors are just rumors, and as long as they don't interfere with my work, I don't pay any attention to them," he replied calmly, as if his name were not being linked to yours in hallway gossip.

"Do you like it when people say that we're having a secret romance in the office?"

Your words made his heart race, his grip on the pen tightened, and he even smudged the document he was signing. Finally, Yesung looked up from the documents and fixed his gaze on you.

His reading glasses, his hair neatly combed back to expose his forehead, and the expressionless gaze he directed at you—none of it matched the slight crimson hue that had settled on the tips of his ears. The self-control he had maintained until now was slipping away like water through his fingers.

"Do you want me to accept or deny the rumors?" he said, without taking his eyes off yours.

You swallowed hard. Suddenly, the huge office felt like a two-square-meter room with you in one corner and him in the other.

"Obviously deny it," you hesitated, despite wanting to sound confident. "We are not having any relationship outside of work."

"And if I told you I wanted to confirm the rumor, what would you do?" His voice was low, seductive. Controlled to attract and persuade.

The reality was that he didn't need to use any strategy to convince you that going out with him was a good idea. You had been aware of that for a long time and wanted it to be true.

Clinging to the little courage you managed to muster, you moved toward him and grabbed his tie, pulling it toward you to bring his face closer to yours. Yesung smiled slightly, a half-smile that made your legs go weak.

Not a second passed before your boss took you in a generous and passionate kiss, one that contained all the torturous moments in which he had restrained his emotions, putting the fulfillment of his work first.

He picks you up at home so you can arrive at the office together. He doesn't really care about entering the building while he hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

He smiles a little more now that you two are dating, and he has even started interacting with the staff at team dinners.

He doesn't care about the rumors, but now he stops to listen to what they say just to find out if everyone thinks you make a good couple or not.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Count on me

Fem!reader x Yesung

Synopsis: Tired of making Yesung the center of your universe, you begin to distance yourself, and that absence will awaken something strange in the singer.

Warnings: Distress with comfort, angst, fluff, use of "(Y/N)," written with female pronouns, maybe grammar mistakes.

w/c: 3.9k

MASTERLIST

Count on me

You had been waiting inside the car for two hours while the idol was having fun with the staff of the project he was working on.

You had come because they had called you to tell you that Yesung was drinking a little more than usual.

You weren't his babysitter, he didn't even pay you to put up with that kind of thing, but he was your friend and you were there because of that emotional commitment.

You knew him well; you had been his right-hand man since the beginning of your careers at SM Entertainment, and even though you had given up on that dream, you never turned your back on him.

However, you were also aware that you were the one carrying the brunt of that friendship. You were always running around because of him, always answering his calls, and never demanding the attention you knew you deserved.

Years ago, you had come to terms with the fact that you had wasted your time trying to fit into a world that wasn't for you, that music and acting couldn't be part of your life. Thanks to Yesung, you had managed to get out of the rut of self-pity and turn your life around.

Kim Jong Jin, Yesung's younger brother, had taken you on as an apprentice at his café, unaware that your baking skills would lead you to complete your studies in that field.

Even with a prolific career and a peaceful life, there you were, finding time where there was none just to take care of an old friend. A person you valued as much as your own life.

The phone rang again inside the work apron you hadn't managed to untie before leaving the café.

"Aren't you here yet?" asked a woman's voice, slurring her words due to her inconvenient state of intoxication.

"I'm outside," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb while mentally cursing your best friend.

"Excellent."

You ended the call and got out of the car to continue waiting for your friend.

They had already asked the same question before, and you let time pass, hoping that Yesung would come out to see you before being knocked out by alcohol.

Seeing him unconscious was better than finding him indulging in his bad habits, with excessive drinking dulling his senses.

He had always been cold and distant with strangers, but when he drank, he became clingy. He tried to be someone who lavished affection as if he were the personification of Eros.

His staggering steps tried to lead him straight to your car, but the rest of his body didn't seem to be paying attention to the task. The singer's arms clung around the shoulders of two people as he tried to shower the faces of the two men carrying him with kisses.

"We didn't know he couldn't handle his alcohol," said one of the strangers, handing you the swaying body of your best friend.

Both men seemed to feel guilty, as if they were two children telling you that they had broken one of your windows with a ball after kicking it in an attempt to score a goal.

"Thank you for everything. I'm sorry if Yesung caused you any trouble."

"Not at all," one of them hastened to say, waving his hands in front of him to stop any attempt to bring up the subject again. "We should have taken care of him."

"I don't need it," Yesung slurred, moving into the second phase of the effects of alcohol. "I have (Y/N) with me, and that's all that matters now."

Waving goodbye to the two strangers, you opened the passenger door and threw Yesung into the vehicle.

You couldn't stand that habit, you couldn't tolerate his hands clinging to yours or his lips pressing against your cheeks.

The worst part? He kept saying sweet words and compliments about everything you did.

It was confusing. Too much so. Enough to make your heart race and your mind go into autopilot, transporting you to a different place where a future with him was possible.

"Have I told you how much I like your neck when you pull your hair back while you work?" he whispered, running one of his fingers over that sensitive part of your body.

"Don't touch," you said, slapping his hand away.

"You have pretty hands too," his voice changed to a more playful tone.

His fingertips caressed the back of your hand, sending an electric current that ran through every inch of your skin.

You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat and tried to focus your attention on the road back to his apartment, the safe place he shouldn't have left that night.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" His voice broke mid-sentence.

You stopped the car abruptly and finally gave him what he so desperately wanted: your attention.

Dealing with him in that state must have been your punishment for keeping your feelings hidden. If that wasn't it, you didn't understand why you had to put up with it.

"Do you know what I like the most about you?" he asked with a silly smile on his lips. A smile you were hopelessly in love with.

You sighed, with no intention of continuing to listen his incessant monologue. Your teeth dug into the inside of your cheek to hold back the endless ironic responses that had come to mind.

Your head seemed as confused as his.

"Your lips. How you purse them when you're concentrating on cooking."

After that statement, the idol's body slumped against the car seat. His eyes remained lazily closed as his breathing slowed.

That image was a far cry from the one he had presented seconds earlier.

Now he didn't seem like the man who stirred your heart and twisted your stomach just by saying sweet words in the midst of his obvious drunkenness.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel again, and you resumed the journey toward your friend's home. To the same apartment where Jong Jin had said he would wait for both of you.

After a ten-minute drive, you finally arrived at his address. The neighborhood where he lived hadn't changed at all.

Every corner, every wall, every tree… everything there was filled with memories. Anecdotes that shouted from the rooftops how much you had endured while hiding your feelings.

The bitter taste of guilt and discomfort danced on your taste buds.

You parked the car masterfully and proceeded to dial Jong Jin's phone number to let him know once and for all that you had arrived. You couldn't go up to the apartment with Yesung in tow, no matter how thin he was.

His younger brother came down the stairs, analyzing everything that was happening before his eyes.

Your gaze clearly observed Yesung's profile with fascination, tracing the shape of his nose with your fingers, gently caressing his eyelashes.

It had always been that way. You put his older brother first, as if taking care of him was your priority in life, but Yesung seemed to ignore every effort you made.

The barista cleared his throat, and you immediately took your hands off him, hiding them behind your back as if you had committed a crime.

"Why don't you tell him?" he asked.

There was no need to clarify what he was talking about. You both knew perfectly well what was being discussed at that moment.

"Because we're friends. I don't want to cross the line."

"Come on, you crossed it a long time ago," he said, followed by a slight shrug. "You're afraid."

Hearing the reason you refused to accept made your stomach churn with disgust, as if you had eaten something rotten.

"Enough."

"You can't say that to me right after you touched my brother like that," he let out another slight laugh.

"Can't you pretend you didn't see it?" you asked, lowering your gaze.

"Oh, come on, it would be impossible for anyone not to notice. You're getting worse at hiding it," Jong Jin finally approached the car to try to get his brother out. "In fact, it seems unreal that he hasn't noticed yet."

Your back straightened and your gaze tensed for a moment, just long enough for your friend to laugh again.

"Thanks for bringing him home. Tomorrow I'll tell him to do something nice for you, you deserve it."

Your cheeks flushed, and you had to look away as the younger brother tried to steady Yesung on both feet, wrapping one arm around his waist and allowing the idol to lean his weight against him.

The two brothers slowly walked away amid laughter and staggering steps. They were an incredibly funny pair.

Jong Jin climbed the steps one by one, step by step, until he heard your car drive away, and then he pushed his older brother aside.

"Why did you pretend to be drunk? Why don't you tell her how you feel without needing to make up some absurd excuse to do so?" he asked accusingly.

It was difficult for him to see how both of you were trying so clumsily to hide your feelings. He also had to pretend to believe you, and that was wearing away what little patience he had left.

"At least I'm not such a bad actor. She believed me."

"That's because it suited her to think you had really been drinking. Could you stop being a nuisance to both of us and set the record straight once and for all?"

Yesung's warm, amused gaze turned serious, barely concealing his annoyance.

He didn't respond. The idol's silence spoke louder than any words he could have uttered.

He understood his younger brother perfectly, but he hoped for a little understanding from him in return.

Taking the step from friendship to a stable romantic relationship was too much. Things were fine between you as they were; perhaps putting a name to that dynamic would change everything.

The cold night air seeping through the car window allowed you to calm your heart and clear your thoughts a little.

Yesung was a great person, an excellent friend, but he was also the reason your mind was in chaos, the reason the nights grew long as your mind tried to see beyond the warm gestures he reserved solely and exclusively for you.

A month had passed since that night when you had made one of the most difficult decisions of your life. You would allow yourself to distance yourself from him, step by step, little by little, until your heart no longer raced when you heard his name, until your gaze stopped searching for him everywhere.

The beginning had been anything but easy. His voice made you stop whatever you were doing to focus all your attention on him.

His sincere smiles struck your heart directly, and the laughter your clever comments provoked made you feel proud.

That was until hearing him say your name caused nothing more than a slight twinge in your stomach, a faint reminder that your feelings had once been stronger than they were now.

Your lack of attention, your short answers, and the smiles that were no longer accompanied by sparkling eyes began to set off alarm bells. Yesung hadn't realized how much the dynamic had changed.

"Do you remember the woman in the mustard-colored coat?" Jong Jin asked as he wiped the inside of the espresso filters with a cloth. You nodded. "Well, it turns out she came to spy on our menu."

Your lips parted without making a sound, leaving only that look of surprise.

"Impossible."

"I know because now they're also offering your famous 'tiramiss–U,'" the barista smiled smugly as he watched your reaction closely.

Your eyebrows arched, and you finally brought both arms behind your head with equal parts obvious amazement and pride.

Yesung watched the whole scene as if he were a ghost standing in front of you. An invisible presence and, as if that weren't enough, out of place.

It was clear to him that you and his brother shared a special bond, had a common history, and a shared job that had brought you closer together.

He just didn't know at what point the two of you had drifted apart, creating your own alliance at his expense, as if his presence had never been welcome in that friendship.

"Is Tiramiss–U your version of the Italian dessert but with strawberries that you gave me to try the other time?" the singer asked, discreetly joining the conversation.

"That's right," was the only response you gave.

Your voice was devoid of emotion, and Yesung felt like a stranger in your life, as if he didn't belong there.

"I'm not going to say I'm not flattered, even though I was the victim of plagiarism," you admitted as you turned to face Jong Jin.

"My star pastry chef, your hands should be recognized as intangible cultural heritage," he joked as he playfully tapped your shoulder.

The conversation continued with jokes and harmless comments about spying on the café, but the singer's mind was still stuck on the moment when his brother called you "MY star pastry chef."

You hadn't corrected him, your gaze hadn't shifted toward him to gauge his reaction, and you had simply laughed the way you used to with him.

His heart froze when Jong Jin tapped your shoulder and you smiled in camaraderie, with the rapport that he and you used to have.

He was going crazy.

His heart was beating hard, pausing and accelerating as he watched the dynamic between his brother and you, his best friend, his soul mate, his… everything.

Inevitably, his mind searched for answers. He dug into his memories, trying to figure out when it all started to change.

The answer came faster than expected, and that certainty only fueled the pain inside him. He felt bad, miserable, completely responsible for your evasive attitude toward him.

He was sure that he had dug his own grave, that if anyone was to blame for pushing you out of his life, it was him.

"(Y/N)," he said aloud.

Your attention shifted from Jong Jin to Yesung, who was still sitting at the bar, staring intently at his glass of water as if that liquid held all the answers to his questions.

The singer pressed his lips together as soon as he realized that your name had come out of his mouth and not his brother's. Panic immediately overwhelmed him.

"Do you need anything?" you murmured, undoing the knot in your work apron.

Your tone was cold and distant. A change that he now noticed clearly but that in the past had not mattered to him.

Her mind worked overtime, searching for something to say that didn't sound like a poorly crafted excuse.

He never thought the day would come when he would have to beat around the bush with you, not when you were always together. Not when you were both a constant in each other's lives.

"I need you," he finally said.

It was an ultimatum. The announcement of the beginning of a conversation that both of you had been avoiding.

You didn't want to see him looking so serious. You weren't willing to back down after everything you had had to carry on your shoulders in order to step aside and continue living without him.

"Look at the time!" Jong Jin said, gesturing exaggeratedly. "You're in charge (Y/N). I remembered that I have to attend an espresso machine demonstration," he apologized awkwardly, trying to untie his work apron and failing miserably. "Thanks for your hard work," he patted your shoulder, "take care and close at the usual time."

The singer's brother couldn't get rid of the apron and just stumbled away, tripping over a chair leg and leaving the premises with clumsy, giant steps.

The show was absolutely painful to watch. The tension had frozen the atmosphere, and the owner's performance had only added to it.

Your hands moved clumsily over the apron straps and you tied it back in place as if the task required your full concentration. Your gaze was fixed on the counter and your mind was searching for every possible excuse to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he urged.

You pressed your lips together, trying to tie the apron, deliberately and completely ignoring Yesung.

The idol sighed resignedly, got up from his seat, and walked over to you to take you by the shoulders, stopping your movements with that simple gesture. That contact would have been welcome in the past, but now it was uncomfortable.

With his hands resting on that part of your body, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. His hands took hold of the apron strings and slowly tied them.

Every time his knuckles brushed against the fabric of your blouse, right in the middle of your back, your body instinctively arched to avoid contact. It was as if your skin was hypersensitive and his fingers burned like fire.

The feeling of him behind you, with only the counter between you, was too much for you. Your heart fluttered frantically and your stomach tightened in anticipation.

Once the garment was tied, he took the liberty of caressing the back of your neck with his fingertips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Instinctively, you straightened your back and squared your shoulders.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he whispered, placing his hands back on your shoulders.

With resignation and trying to convey the anguish he felt, he rested his forehead against your upper back.

"I haven't been," you replied in a whisper, "it's you who's been too busy with your own business to not spend time with me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Yesung lifted his head without removing his hands and gently massaged your shoulders. The sensation of pleasure that this brought to your tense muscles was overwhelming, so much so that a soft moan escaped your lips when he pressed his thumbs into a knot between your shoulder blades.

"I didn't want to interfere with your life."

Your words made his hands stop, but they didn't leave that spot on your body. This time he held you tightly to force you to look him in the face. If he was going to talk seriously with you, he needed to do it face to face.

"(Y/N)," he said your name softly, caressing each letter with extreme delicacy. "You will always be my priority."

Your eyes opened wide in surprise as his gaze locked onto yours.

His words were sincere; they weren't a prepared speech or empty platitudes that would lose their meaning over time. If he said it, it was because he truly meant it. His eyes couldn't be lying to you.

"I never meant to hurt you―

"Well, you did," you blurted out deliberately, feeling that everything you had kept silent was pressing down on your chest.

"I didn't want to lose you," he admitted.

His hands left your shoulders and rested on the counter. He needed some stability, and that inert object seemed capable of providing it.

You didn't say anything, allowing the silence to grow and envelop you both in an almost tangible tension. Your breathing began to steady, but your heartbeat did not. It pounded frantically, sending its shrill rhythm to your ears.

"Asking you out and starting a romantic relationship opened up the possibility that sooner or later it would all come to an end," he murmured, struggling to get the words out.

"Why think about ending something that hasn't even begun? Why not give things a chance to flow at their own pace?" you asked, hurt. Your words were accompanied by the bitter taste of defeat, of giving up while trying to keep every piece of your heart in place.

"Because I don't know if I'll be enough for you," he whispered.

He was putting everything on the line. A friendship he had taken for granted, his conflicting feelings that urged him to keep you close enough to enjoy your company but maintain enough distance so as not to cross the line.

"I thought things would be easier if we stayed friends," he continued after a thoughtful pause, "but that wasn't what I wanted. Deep down, I knew I wanted more," he sighed, exhausted from having to think about his words before speaking. "And yet I didn't have the courage to act. Fear was always there."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue because you understood. You hadn't acted for the same reason either.

You weren't in a hurry to get another explanation. Not anymore.

His serious expression, the way his hands moved and his eyes searched your face for answers as the words came out one by one told you how much he had suffered too.

The singer's hands clenched into fists as they rested on the counter, as if that table were the only thing keeping him standing.

"And now what?" you pressed with words, rubbing salt in the wound, hoping for some reaction beyond continuing to express his guilt and fears. "Will you push me away again?"

You had had enough of that.

"Let's go out, go on dates, and let fate take its course," he replied, not entirely convinced but with enough courage to keep his word. "If everything works out, then it will have been worth risking our friendship."

Saying each sentence was too much for the idol. Admitting his feelings, exposing his weaknesses, and hoping for your understanding was a tortuous way to clear up a misunderstanding that could have been avoided if he had been braver.

"This will never go wrong because I like you," you decided with greater conviction. "I don't see you as Yesung the singer who lives his life on stage, but as Jong Woon, the person I supported and who supported me since we met."

You smiled broadly as soon as you saw the singer's eyes regain their sparkle. That look of complicity with which you used to gaze at each other was back.

You knew each other; you had been together long enough to know each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Yesung nodded in agreement. So many years of friendship, of ups and downs, of arguments and reconciliations; all of that should be enough as long as there was love between you two.

"Thank you," he said, feeling all the tension evaporate, "for giving me a chance and for never stopping loving me."

"Oh, come on, there's no need to get all mushy and sappy. You should have done that earlier."

"There's something else I should have done earlier."

His hands rested on your shoulders again, holding you steady and preventing you from moving. As his face slowly approached yours, waiting for your permission, your eyes closed to allow you to enjoy the moment and the sensations it evoked.

When his lips brushed yours, magic happened.

Even with your eyes closed, you could tell he was smiling in the middle of the kiss. The soft touch, the rhythm of the movement, the taste of coffee that lingered on his lips, and the aroma that filled the café overwhelmed each and every one of your senses.

Your heart was safe and secure with him; no one else could hold it in their hands except Yesung, because you knew you could count on him just as he could count on you.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

i really like the imagine “isn’t just a kiss” that you wrote, could you write a kyuhyun version?

Welcome to another Kyuhyun's request! I enjoyed a lot writing this short story so I hope you like it 🫡

Truth or dare

Coworker fem!reader x Kyuhyun

Synopsis: The nightlife, the agency closing, and the farewells will put a strain on the idol's relationship with you, his coworker.

Warnings: I think none just fluff, misunderstandings, slight use of "(Y/N)" and maybe grammar mistakes.

w/c: 3.5k

MASTERLIST

Truth or dare

There was one week left before it all came to an end.

Label SJ, your workplace, the company to which you had dedicated so many years, was finally closing its doors.

The belongings of several employees were already packed in plastic or cardboard boxes, patiently waiting for the last day of work to arrive.

Some of your colleagues already had a new place to start, but you, the person in charge of managing the schedules of Super Junior's members, hadn't found a single minute to search for a new job.

You had the experience to start somewhere else, you had enough contacts to secure a position at a large company, but you simply didn't have time to do anything other than work.

The nights were as chaotic as the days, with work piling up between staff transfers and fulfilling the shows that Super Junior had to perform.

A KCON in Saudi Arabia that everyone had to attend, solo performances to promote Yesung's new album, and meetings with SM Entertainment staff to set the debut date for the new sub-unit LSS had everyone overwhelmed with planning.

Calls from business agents were intercepted by whoever was available to do so. Normally, you would be in charge of checking the available dates, but now that everyone had seven days to get everything in order, any help was welcome.

Some dates were more important than others. Some members' activities overlapped with those of others.

Just then, as you were checking your tablet to reschedule an appointment with the stylist for Ryeowook, Kyuhyun had just taken the stage to perform at the Green Forest Festival.

Blue lightsticks bearing the Super Junior symbol were waved in the air as he greeted the audience. You photographed the moment to share those images with the person in charge of managing the group's social media.

You weren't there to hang out, far from it. You had gone to cover the person in charge of gathering all the evidence of events that were not broadcast publicly in order to generate content for the fans.

The tablet was under your arm and a professional camera hung around your neck along with the badge that showed your position as staff for the ballad singer.

It was late, the sky showed its orange brushstrokes and delighted everyone with the romantic landscape it gave to the now almost veiled evening.

At Gwanghwamun was the ballad that opened the forty minutes your artist had for his performance. He would actually speak for ten of them and only sing for half an hour; that was what had been agreed with the organizers.

When the music of Confession is not flashy played, the audience shouted excitedly, pulling you out of your own bubble where work and you came together.

You sighed and decided to enjoy yourself for four minutes while taking photos as if you were the owner of a fansite. The lighting and atmosphere were helping you get good shots. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the good mood that had spread to you from the crowd sitting on those metal chairs arranged on the grass.

The song came to an end and Kyuhyun struck a cute pose to satisfy his fans' desires. Super Junior was known for this, for doing a great job with fan service no matter how silly it might seem to those outside the fandom.

Time flew by, and as soon as Kyuhyun stepped off the stage, his manager and some assistants surrounded him to remove the sound box that was attached to the leather belt that went through the loops of his light brown pants.

"Is there anything scheduled for tonight?" Kyuhyun asked, his voice hoarse from singing a few seconds earlier.

"Nothing for today. Tomorrow you have a recording for Samyang. They scheduled the monthly commercial for their Buldak ramyeon line with a jingle performed by you," you informed him, walking at his pace, shoulder to shoulder through the narrow hallway toward the makeshift dressing room behind the stage.

"Reserve a table for the team at the Korean barbecue restaurant closest to the agency building," he asked, as if you were in charge of his personal activities. "Let's celebrate together before we go for separate ways."

You nodded as the staff celebrated the decision.

Keeping up with someone with a schedule as busy as his was complicated, an almost impossible task, and yet you had managed everything perfectly.

Kyuhyun doubted he knew anyone else as capable of organizing everything as you were. You were a walking schedule, a living calendar that he used to carry with him everywhere.

Missing you was the least he would feel once Label SJ closed its doors. He wasn't ready to go back to the SM building, he wasn't mentally prepared to ask about his schedule and not see you there reciting every appointment from memory.

The singer changed into more comfortable clothes, a pants and a cotton T-shirt, rubber sandals, and a pair of glasses just so he wouldn't look sloppy.

As soon as he arrived at the parking lot reserved for the singers' vehicles, the manager was already waiting inside the van, and you were there too.

The costume and makeup team got in amid chatter and laughter. Everyone was immersed in their own jokes and ignoring the rest of the team who didn't share their humor.

You were going to miss those moments that now seemed so familiar to you.

"What are you thinking about?" asked the singer when he saw you focused on everything going on around you.

"All of this," you said, spreading your arms to encompass the space inside the car. "I'm going to miss them all," you murmured, letting out a sigh that was too dramatic for your own taste.

"I thought you had no feelings and that what you wanted most was for all this to finally end," he replied, tilting his face slightly to see you from a better angle.

"Just because I don't show them doesn't mean they don't exist," you murmured, turning your attention back to the ballad singer. "What about you?"

"I have them."

Kyuhyun didn't plan it, he didn't even have a second to think about it before it happened. But as if it were a reflex, he leaned slightly to press his lips against yours.

You froze.

Your brain malfunctioned.

Your heart fluttered in your chest before accelerating its usual rhythm.

Finally, your lips remained still, your breath caught in your lungs, and your first instinct was to push him back to establish some distance between you and the idol.

His eyes widened as he looked at your face. You both stared at each other with equal disbelief.

You were surprised by his action, but he was just as surprised and at the same time angry at your reaction.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, fighting the growing discomfort, "please forget what happened."

He didn't even wait for you to respond. He put on his headphones and ignored you for the rest of the trip.

The atmosphere in the Korean barbecue restaurant was tense, too tense. Your eyes were glued to the grill where the meat was roasting, and your fingers clung to the small glass containing the soju you hadn't touched since it had been served.

You hated that things were like this with the singer, and you hated even more that your colleagues couldn't read the room enough to notice that you were uncomfortable and wanted to leave.

A phone call rang out on your phone, and as if you had been waiting for that moment forever, you got up smiling with the excuse of having to leave to take the call.

"(Y/N), we need you to send the files from Siwon and Leeteuk's schedules," ordered the SM staff who would be taking over the job that had been yours until now.

"Of course, I'll send them over in a couple of minutes," you replied seriously.

This time it wasn't an excuse; you really had to go and continue with the work that was piling up on your desk.

Everyone said goodbye to you as if it really were the last goodbye. Not so Kyuhyun, who mysteriously had to go to the bathroom while you were returning after answering the call.

Everyone noticed. It was obvious that you were avoiding each other.

During the last week, there were still performances pending for them as a group and for others as subunits. Even though the label was about to close, the schedules had to be fulfilled.

Upcoming was the recording of the Samyang jingle and also Yesung's photo shoot for the first issue of a monthly magazine published in China.

You had arranged everything to travel with Yesung, but then his brother had joined the equation, and it was clear that you were no longer needed.

Perhaps he was doing it on purpose, because his mocking smile when he saw that you would have to accompany Kyuhyun didn't even take you by surprise.

"Hurry up, I have to go sing for the ramen brand," ordered the ballad singer as if both were just a couple of strangers.

He felt annoyed every time he saw you. Knowing that he had dared to kiss you but that you hadn't even reciprocated was a memory that had tormented him since the day of ―what he considered to be― a humiliating event.

If he didn't face you, it was because of the shame of his own actions, because of the regret of having let himself go without being sure of how you felt about each other.

It had been a mistake, a misstep, a slip caused by the atmosphere and the pressure. Nothing more and nothing less than that.

He slammed the car door harder than necessary and immediately reprimanded himself mentally. It was impossible that this was happening to him, the person whom no one would believe could act this way without premeditation.

The sound of the door slamming made you close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose to keep from losing your temper. You had work to do; the staff was changing workplaces and there were more vacant positions than there were people to fill them.

"After the recording, there's a photo shoot with the whole group for Lotte," you said checking your tablet, ignoring the look the idol was giving you through the rearview mirror.

"We'll be on time," replied the manager, seeing that the idol seemed to be ignoring your words.

From that moment on, and for the remaining six days, your relationship was reduced to that.

Trust had slowly dissipated until it disappeared amid formal and distant treatment. At least that was the case until the last day of Label SJ's existence arrived.

A ramen restaurant was the designated place for dinner on that sad night. The trusted staff was there, along with all the members of Super Junior.

The anecdotes of when each member joined the small team, the shared stories of how things went wrong at some event, or how they managed to solve problems, elicited laughter from those present.

The atmosphere was pleasant, a wonderful evening in which laughter and stories mingled with the sounds from outside, preventing that farewell from being painful.

"Let's spin this bottle and play truth or dare," Shindong suggested as soon as the mood at the table began to decline.

Everyone nodded as if that idea wasn't likely to end in chaos, like every other idea the group had to liven things up.

The first round served to test the waters and establish the difficulty of the dares and the depth of the truths.

Discovering office romances, staff indiscretions, and some not-so-well-kept secrets about the idols had been fun until the game became a bit monotonous.

The bottle spun again, and you put some noodles in your mouth without taking your eyes off the device that defined the new target of puns and laugh.

That glass object continued spinning round and round as if it would never stop. Each new spin added more tension between you and Kyuhyun.

Unfortunately, the bottle stopped spinning pointing between the ballad singer and you. A terrible twist of fate, a bad joke.

"Truth or dare?" you asked, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"Truth," he muttered before drinking the soju in his glass.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Everyone fell silent. Their eyes traveled from Kyuhyun to you and back to the idol, as if they were watching an invisible tennis match.

Your cheeks were burning as you tried to hold the singer's gaze. It hadn't been your intention to bring it up the topic in front of everyone, but you didn't think you'd have another chance to talk about it if you didn't do it now.

The balladeer wasn't handling it any better. His face had turned scarlet, and although he would have liked to blame it on the soju, the truth was that he was just as embarrassed as you were, if not more so.

"I don't know, it just happened," he sighed as he placed the small glass on the wooden table. "Didn't you kiss me back because you hate me, or is there another reason?" he asked in return.

"The bottle didn't spin again," Siwon pointed out, gesturing toward the object on the table.

Kyuhyun picked up the bottle and spun it slightly, just enough to make sure the mouth of the bottle was pointing toward you and the base toward him.

"Didn't you like the kiss?"

"First you have to ask if she wants to tell the truth or take a dare," Heechul scolded, just to annoy his friend. The murderous look he received from the vocalist told him he had achieved his goal.

"Truth or dare?" Kyuhyun muttered through clenched teeth.

"Dare," you replied, knowing what the question would be if you chose to tell the truth.

"I dare you to tell me why you didn't kiss me back."

The table fell silent and attention returned to you. You were the talk of the moment, the main attraction of the farewell party.

Those who had been unable to attend that last team dinner would clearly regret it. Something unexpectedly interesting was being revealed through a silly, childish game.

You clenched your hands into fists as your head tried to organize your thoughts so that your answer wouldn't sound like a poorly crafted excuse.

"You caught me off guard!" you admitted, regardless of the audience judging you. "I didn't know what to do. How did you expect me to react when I was talking to you seriously about the agency closing and out of nowhere you kissed me? Besides," you added amid gestures, "I bet you don't even have feelings for me."

Shindong moved the bottle to point its mouth toward his bandmate.

The rules of the game no longer mattered, nor did the order of things there. What was really capturing the attention of friends and strangers alike were the statements being made there.

"Kyuhyun," Shindong said dramatically, letting a long, agonizing pause pass as all eyes turned to him, "do you like our (Y/N) that much?"

No, the answer was obviously no. Kyuhyun knew it, you knew it, so why couldn't he say it?

It was just one word, a monosyllable he uttered every day. It shouldn't have been difficult to respond in the same blunt manner, but it was, and the fact that he couldn't deny things made him growl in frustration.

Yesung and Ryeowook understood their teammate's desperation as shown through his behavior. They had seen him gravitating toward you all this time.

The only person he allowed to know his schedule was you, the only woman on his staff was you, and you were always the one he chose to replace the staff who accompanied him.

For the two members of the KRY subunit ―who were not involved in the show— the answer had always been obvious.

Kyuhyun liked you, but he seemed too full of himself to realize it.

"I think so," he whispered, savoring the words, allowing the idea to take root in his mind and heart.

He was going crazy. That had to be it. There was no other reason for his lips to utter that answer as soon as it crossed his mind.

He clearly meant to say no, but his lips had articulated the exact opposite.

Perhaps he had exceeded his tolerance for alcohol and was experiencing one of those moments of drunkenness in which reality mingled with imagination.

Unexpectedly, he gave himself a light slap to make sure he was drunk, but the sensation was too clear to pretend that his senses were dulled by liquor.

Siwon took the bottle and this time pointed the mouth toward his friend and the base toward himself so he could ask him a question in true Shindong style.

"Are you confessing your feelings right now?" he asked without giving him time to process what had just happened.

Those words hit him like a bucket of cold water. His mind rewound the last few minutes of that dinner and he realized that, indeed, he had admitted to feeling something for you.

"I only said that I kissed her," he admitted defensively, as if avoiding the confession would make his words forgotten, "but she didn't kiss me back. She has made her position clear, and I think it's time we left here because everyone is acting like a bunch of drunks right now."

The place erupted with laughter at his reaction, and even you covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smile at the terrible act he was performing in the small establishment now crowded with your coworkers.

"Did you want me to kiss you back? In that case, you should have mentioned it instead of continuing to avoid me as if I were the plague," you reproached calmly.

"Sure, then I would have escalated from abusive to stalker in record time," he declared, feeling his embarrassment replaced by something more akin to anger.

"Or maybe you would have given me the chance to make the decision instead of taking my reaction for granted."

The atmosphere was tense once again. If there had been a ring beneath you two, the fight would have had the perfect setting, with each spectator taking sides and placing their bets.

"So would you have kissed me back?" the singer asked again.

"Hey, there are about twenty of us here waiting for the final verdict," Donghae interrupted, pulling on Kyuhyun's shirt to get him to turn and look at all his teammates.

Sure enough, to his surprise, everyone was crowded together, leaning on each other to get a full view, but they were all seated, while you and he were the only ones standing, gesturing energetically as you argued.

The wave of regret hits you head-on and mercilessly. That was not a good place to discuss such a personal matter. You couldn't understand how you two, a completely reasonable people had let yourselves get carried away by a confession that came out of a game of spin the bottle.

You sighed and took Kyuhyun's hand to drag him out of the establishment. Your strides were long and confident, yet the singer reached the outside before you, opening the door and holding it for you.

As soon as you both reached the outside, the laughter and comments of your companions were lost amid the sounds of car horns and the laughter of passersby.

The cool breeze helped keep your temper in check, allowing you to think a little better without the pressure around you.

You inhaled, filling your lungs, and exhaled, releasing the tension that had been threatening to make you lose control.

Kyuhyun watched you closely. His gaze was not that of the singer who always asked about his schedule, nor that of a coworker seeking your help. He was observing you, really seeing you as if for the first time.

And as soon as a half-smile formed on your lips, he knew both were in the right place at the right time.

"May I?" he asked this time, without needing to add any further details.

Your response was a single nod to let him proceed.

A slow breath, a slight sigh was enough for his lips to meet yours in that long-awaited kiss.

This time it didn't take you by surprise, nor did it leave you paralyzed. Your lips took on his rhythm and your heart beat with life.

Unconsciously, one of his hands covered your hip and the other cradled the back of your neck, deepening the contact of his lips.

He needed nothing more, except a little privacy after everyone inside the restaurant left just to check what they already suspected was happening outside.

"They're not going to let it go, are they?" you whispered, pulling away from him.

"Not even the closure of the agency will stop them from bringing it up," he confirmed with a laugh.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Reserved seat

Fem!reader x Yesung

Synopsis: It's time to go to work, but first Yesung must take you to see a show where he has a seat reserved just for you.

Warnings: Comfort without distress, fluff, established relationship, written with female pronouns.

w/c: 2.7k

a/n: I'm very sorry for my absence, but I've had a sick relative and, well, someone has to take care of himself.

MASTERLIST

Reserved seat

Yesung rolled over in bed, turning his back to you as the sheets slid down his side and fell into the space between you two.

The sound of the fabric rubbing against the light material of an old T-shirt and his boxers did not disturb your sleep.

He was beginning to regret having to get up at that hour.

Getting up so early was a feat, especially for him, a night owl.

He had spent most of the night analyzing different tracks for songs that didn't have any lyrics written yet. The photography books were still scattered across the desk in his studio. He had left everything like that so he wouldn't waste time looking for his reference material when he returned to work, even though he knew you would be annoyed by the mess as soon as you saw it and both would have to tidy it up as soon as you had time.

He shook his head to stop himself from thinking about the cleaning task that awaited you both. The first thing on his to-do list was to turn on the coffee maker and drink some of that bitter elixir to start his day, but that would only be possible if he left the room.

His limbs were still tense from the position he had adopted while sleeping, unconsciously placing one arm under his head to replace his warm pillow.

He stretched his arms upward, attempting to reach the ceiling until his shoulder blades cracked in response. Yesung opened his eyes and turned his face slightly, concerned that he might have awakened you.

Your features appeared relaxed, and your lips barely managed to form a smile. You were asleep. Deeply. Your stomach rose and fell at a peaceful pace.

Yesung let his gaze linger on you a little longer, just a couple of seconds before putting into motion his plan for the little surprise he had planned for you.

You always did everything for him. Always attentive to his mood, supporting him whenever possible. It was time for him to do something for you.

His bare feet moved across the polished floor, leading him out of the shared room. He had done a great job sneaking out, now he needed to wake up completely so he could get going.

The kitchen was dark, which he hadn't expected more at three in the morning, but he also hadn't expected it to be so pitch black. He turned on the flashlight on his phone so he could find the light switch in the room.

As soon as the warm light came on, Yesung was able to locate the appliances and their connections. They all seemed intimidating, a challenge set solely to keep him from approaching them.

How long had it been since he'd even used the toaster? He couldn't remember. Every time he tried to bring the memory to mind, the only thing that came to him was you smiling as you hummed one of your tunes in front of the stove.

He smiled lovingly, allowing the feeling of warmth to settle in his chest. He sighed and snorted through his nose to avoid letting out a laugh that might wake you up.

He opened the refrigerator to take out the ingredients for some prosciutto bagels. It wasn't the most nutritious food, but he didn't need to use the stove to prepare it.

He would use the oven, something he knew how to do and with which he didn't run the risk of setting the apartment on fire.

His hands moved skillfully over the ingredients. He cut the bread in half with excessive care, as if someone were going to evaluate his cut; he spread butter and cream cheese, added lettuce, spinach, and finally the prosciutto.

Unconsciously, he was humming the chorus of Pink Magic as his feet glided across the floor and his hips swayed as if there were some kind of choreography for the song.

The cup of coffee he had poured for himself was already empty, and the counter was stained with condiments, leftover ingredients, and bread crumbs. And even though he now had to pack up the food, clean up, and wait another half hour for you to wake up, the smile hadn't left his face.

The sound of the oven timer ringing, signaling that the cooking time was up, interrupted your dream.

You yawned, tried to get comfortable by snuggling up against Yesung, but his absence woke you up completely.

It took a while for your eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room, but once you could make out the sheets and noticed the empty space next to you, you had no choice but to sit up on the mattress.

It was cold, and you were alone. What a way to start the day.

You turned on the lamp, which barely illuminated your little corner of the mattress, stretched out on it, and fumbled for your slippers with your feet.

You were stretching your back when the door opened slightly, producing an almost inaudible creak with the hinges. The sound made you turn your face in that direction, focusing your gaze on the tiny crack.

Yesung noticed the light from the lamp and smiled sweetly as he poked his head out to say good morning.

"Good morning, honey, did I wake you up?" he whispered, as if there was someone else he might wake up with the sound of his voice.

"No," you sighed, rolling your shoulders to loosen them up. "Good morning."

You opened your arms wide, and Yesung came closer to you, allowing you to wrap your limbs around his waist and rest your head on his abdomen. One of his hands rested gently on your back, and with the other, he carefully stroked your hair.

The scent of your shampoo was captured by his nose, that essence filled his soul and heart. His eyes closed for a moment until his hand began to pat your back lightly, indicating that the moment had come to an end.

"What were you doing at this time of the morning?" you asked, more awake this time.

"Working out the details of a surprise I have for you," he announced proudly. "I was just coming to wake you up because we have to go somewhere you're going to like."

"Yesung," you sighed, your voice still hoarse, "the sun hasn't even risen yet, there's nothing to see at this time of the morning."

"No complaints," the singer took your hand and pulled you to your feet. You just smiled at the childish act. "I reserved two special seats for this performance."

One of your eyebrows arched in disbelief at his response. You weren't sure what show could possibly be worth attending in the early hours of the morning, but he was excited about it and wanted to share it with you.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," you finally stood up and hugged him tightly. "I'll be in the car in a couple of minutes," you kissed him lightly on the cheek and made your way to the bathroom.

The singer caressed the trail your lips left on his skin and smiled with satisfaction. Now he was completely sure that you would love his surprise.

Just as you had promised, in a few minutes you rhythmically descended the steps of the building until you reached the parking lot, where Yesung was already waiting with the car door open and a tumbler in his hand.

Before getting into the vehicle, you kissed the idol on the lips and took a seat in the warm interior of the car. The singer's smile widened and he gently closed the door, walking around the car to take his own seat.

The morning was still dark and the cold wind made the dry leaves and trash dance in the air or drag along the road.

The birds were not yet singing, but the city was already beginning to show signs of activity. Some establishments already had their lights on, and when the car stopped at a traffic light, the aroma of bread wafted into the vehicle.

"We didn't even have time for breakfast," you muttered when you noticed the aroma. "I could starve to death."

"No way, I packed enough food," he said without taking his eyes off the road. "We can have breakfast as soon as we get there."

"Did you reheat pizza and bring it with you?" you asked, laughing, knowing how little skill he had in the kitchen and unable to imagine him holding a frying pan.

"Nu-hu," he sang cheerfully. "Get ready to hear this for the third time in your life," he said, tapping his leg repeatedly with his free hand, imitating a terrible drum roll. "I cooked."

You gasped dramatically in surprise, causing the idol to burst into loud laughter. His good humor was contagious, making you forget the hunger you had felt just a moment ago.

Yesung checked both side mirrors of the car, making sure no one was approaching so he could maneuver into the narrow parking space. He was sure no one was there, but he didn't want to risk an accident because of careless drivers rushing to get to work.

Once he managed to park the car, the singer unbuckled his seatbelt and got out to open the door for you. You smiled at his kindness, because he had never stopped being that way with you, even though you were already living together.

The cold wind ruffled your hair and made you shiver when it touched you. It was barely five in the morning, and the inside of the car had remained warm.

Yesung closed the door and then opened the trunk to take out the thermal lunch box with breakfast.

You finally paid attention to your surroundings without understanding where you were.

The area seemed lost in time, with faded signs on the buildings, peeling paint on some houses, and car models from several years ago.

Wherever you were, it seemed like an area inhabited by elderly people who couldn't devote much effort to maintaining their homes.

Your gaze shifted from the houses to the park in front of you. Even though the bushes were growing wildly in front of you, you could see the rusty playground equipment through their scattered branches.

"What are we doing here?" you asked, trying to figure out what kind of show you might find in that almost abandoned place.

"I already told you I have two front row tickets to see this show," he said as he held your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours to guide you along the path into the old park.

It smelled like pine, and the wind carried the distant sounds of the morning bustle. There, in that space, there were no skyscrapers, no blinding lights to prevent you from looking up at the sky.

That's why you were there.

Yesung stopped in front of some swings. The two metal seats creaked as the wind swung them back and forth, and the chains that held them several inches above the ground were clearly rusted.

"This thing is going to collapse any minute," you said as your fingers tested the metal surface of the chains.

"No way," the singer scolded, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to sit on the swing. Sure enough, it didn't collapse. "Now take out the food and enjoy the show."

The singer sat down on the other swing and began to sway slightly, just enough to keep the swing moving steadily.

You imitated him as you rummaged through the lunchbox, taking out an empty cardboard cup and an almost perfectly packaged bagel.

"The cup is empty," you pouted childishly. "If this were a school lunch, I would have already reported you for being a bad parent," you smiled.

Yesung opened his eyes wide and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.

He had forgotten the tumbler with the coffee in the car.

He quickly got up from the swing and hurried toward the vehicle while you unwrapped the bagel to start eating. You were hungry. You couldn't afford to wait for him.

To your surprise, that sandwich tasted amazing. It was nothing more than a bunch of ingredients stacked between two slices of bread, but whatever he did to it, you wanted him to make it again at home.

You moaned as you took another bite, closing your eyes to savor the flavor, but when you opened them, you almost choked on your food.

You stopped chewing as you admired the view. If you hadn't had the bite in your mouth, it would have fallen slightly open.

It was the most beautiful sunrise you had ever seen.

You swallowed the food with difficulty and turned excitedly to talk to Yesung, but he wasn't on the swing next to you. He hadn't come back yet.

"Hurry up!" you shouted desperately. "You're going to miss it!" you insisted.

Your gaze traveled from the sunrise to the path where Yesung was jogging back with the thermos in his hand.

"Come, come," you waved your hand for him to come closer. "It's already starting," you said excitedly.

The singer smiled and walked forward step by step, admiring your radiant face as it was adorned by the sunrise.

His heart stopped for a second and his mind went blank as his soul filled with you.

"Beautiful," whispered the singer, lost in the sight that life had given him.

"Why didn't you tell me it was about this?" you asked playfully as you stretched out your hand holding the paper cup in front of the singer. "Are you going to serve me coffee now?"

"I would have kissed you right now if you weren't so bossy," he snorted, pouring the bitter liquid into the cup.

"Okay, you can do it," you pressed your lips together, exposing them to him as you closed your eyes, waiting for his touch.

"I'm not going to do it," he declared, frowning.

His hands grabbed the thermal lunch box and took out his bagel so he could join you for breakfast.

You opened one of your eyes only to find him chewing his food without taking his eyes off the horizon.

You pouted before starting to eat, trying to ignore the fact that he had decided not to kiss you.

The seat reserved exclusively for the two of you, with the most beautiful sunrise you had ever witnessed unfolding before you, had made getting up so early worthwhile.

Yesung couldn't have been happier.

"A beautiful view, a delicious breakfast, and the best company in the world… I don't think there could be anything else to make this morning an unforgettable sunrise," you whispered before starting to swing on the swing.

"Mhm," Yesung nodded before putting his trash back in his lunchbox.

He stood up and positioned himself in front of you as the swing began to rock backward, moving back far enough that your feet left the ground.

As soon as the pendulum motion carried you forward, Yesung extended his arms and you closed your eyes, thinking you might crash into him, but the singer stopped the swing's movement abruptly.

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach tightened in surprise, but your face broke into a smile as soon as your gaze met his.

You knew what was happening, you could clearly read the atmosphere, and yet you decided to play with him a little more. Just a little.

"You said you wouldn't do it," you said, covering your lips with your hand.

"Come on, it's to make this sunrise unforgettable," he argued calmly.

Both pairs of eyes met again, and as if it were the filming of a drama, the wind ruffled your hair slightly, sending a strand across your face. Yesung gave a charming half-smile and quietly tucked it behind your ear.

The warm, affectionate touch of his fingers on your skin made your cheeks flush. The pinkish hue began to spread across your face as if you were a teenager, encouraging the idol to continue with his plan.

He leaned in too far, at least enough to be at your height so he could kiss you without having to put his hands on your body. You were joined only by the contact of your mouths, interrupted by the slight separation caused by the rhythmic movement and the need to catch your breath.

It was the best show you had ever seen, all thanks to those two reserved seats Yesung had spotted.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

i miss u shaylaaa—we need ur writing comeback😭🫶🏻💥✨

I'm back!!! You'll be able to keep reading my stories.

Long short story but my brother was in a bad mental health in this vacations and I keep him company trying to help in all I can 🥹 so I'm not able to write due to the lack of time. But he is already better and now I can spend my time fixing the few draft I have 😁

Thanks for your wait 😭😭

[fictionsoul]

i love your blog! do you write for other members?

Yes, sure! I feel almost ready to write for all of them 🫡

[fictionsoul]

Not a couple (II)

PART I | PART II

Donghae, Siwon, Ryeowook, Kyuhyun x Fem!reader

Synopsis: The members of Super Junior act as if they are your partner without being aware of it.

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), maybe some grammar mistakes, written with female pronouns.

w/c: almost 1k for each character

a/n: I really think I posted this almost a week ago, don't know what happened with that draft so rewrite it again take me more time than expected.

MASTERLIST

DONGHAE

You were Donghae's inseparable companion when the cameras weren't around.

If there was a rehearsal, you were there looking after his belongings.

If he wanted to practice a little tennis, there you were holding a racket and swaying your body from left to right, waiting to hit the ball with enough force to respond to his attacks.

The dynamic had always been like that. You two were a combo. A tandem.

But that night was different; that cozy silence had everyone spellbound and lost in their own thoughts.

Donghae wanted to compose a song, something memorable to sing with the group, a melody that would recount the highs and lows of his career.

His fingers danced across the guitar strings, creating chords and emitting notes that radiated melancholy.

"Has the genius composer run out of ideas?" you joked, lightly nudging the idol's side with your elbow.

"No, I was just thinking," he murmured without taking his eyes off the horizon, as if that was where the answer to all his musings lay.

"Quite a high-risk sport."

Hae finally burst out laughing as he slapped your shoulder in camaraderie. Just like he always did.

Then he felt the bare skin of your shoulder against his hand, and his fingers didn't leave that spot. He traced circles on your skin with them, distractedly, almost absentmindedly.

His mind was once again far away, immersed in some other thought, but his fingers continued to caress your shoulder. Feeling your skin burn, you moved that joint slightly, as if a mosquito were bothering you.

Donghae turned his head when he felt the movement and finally removed his hand, but the touch of his fingers was replaced by the softness of his lips.

A light kiss was placed on the exposed skin of your shoulder, and that act was noticed by everyone present.

"Hey lovebirds, if you were going to get affectionate, you should have warned us before forcing us to witness it," joked one of the singer's friends, causing the rest of the small group of people to laugh.

"It's no big deal. That's how we get along," the idol excused himself, struggling with all his might to keep the blush that was beginning to show on his neck from reaching his face.

You let that gesture pass, even joking about it with the others, but what you didn't expect was Donghae to overreact as time went by.

It was obvious that he had been avoiding you; it was clear that something between you wasn't right.

Things were tense within the brotherly dynamic that you both maintained, and the bowling game that Siwon had organized with the members of Super Junior was proof of that.

Everyone looked at each other, noticing how Hae avoided looking you in the eye, how your interactions had remained strictly professional.

When you won the duel against Kyuhyun and Eunhyuk, Donghae forgot his own inhibitions and hugged you, lifting you into the air and spinning with you around in his arms.

"You were amazing!" he beamed amid the excitement.

As soon as your feet touched the ground and everything seemed to fall silent around you, the idol took your hand and kissed your knuckles affectionately.

"Remind me never to team up with Donghae," Kyuhyun said, "I don't want to receive all those displays of affection."

"That's how we get along," he argued, getting into a silly argument with his friends.

Suddenly, the looks the other members gave you seemed to hide too many questions, as if they doubted your best friend's words.

"Isn't he like that with other people?" you dared to ask, doubting a routine that seemed normal to you.

Everyone shook their heads, letting doubt take root inside you.

You didn't want to see beyond the details they had been told you. You refused to let mistrust grow between you, but then he came running up to you as if he had good news to share with everyone.

All those moments when he had held your hand tightly flashed through your mind, how his fingers had absentmindedly caressed your skin, or the countless times he had covered your exposed skin with kisses.

None of it seemed innocent; none of those gestures could be seen as something that would happen between just friends.

Realizing that felt like a physical blow. Your previously cheerful expression changed to one full of concern.

"Hey (Y/N), can we talk?" The question came out in a casual tone, followed by a nervous laugh.

You nodded, fearing that your mixed feelings would betray you. You needed to talk to him too.

Your steps were slow but sure, your fingers played with the hem of the cotton T-shirt you were wearing, and your gaze never strayed from the idol's back.

Once away from the hustle and bustle, Donghae turned around to face you. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he knew that if he didn't seize the moment, the courage he had mustered would evaporate.

"Do you like me?" you asked out of the blue.

"I like you," he blurt at the same time as you.

He laughed. It was a loud laugh that made him double over in pain.

"Yes, (Y/N), I like you. I've liked you for a long time," he confessed with relief. "So what now?"

Instead of responding with words, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it down so you could press your lips against his.

Any declaration of eternal love would fall short of that gesture.

For Dongahe, that kiss was enough, as was continuing to maintain that relationship full of affection, camaraderie, and the love that had always existed between you.

SIWON

Your relationship had been forged with more physical contact than usual.

Sometimes you would high-five each other to celebrate, walk hand in hand, or put an arm around each other's waist.

Physical contact was something you were both used to, as much as you were used to each other's presence.

You had been through so much together. Variety shows, some dramas, and now an award ceremony. The Blue Dragon Awards had invited you to present the award for Best Soundtrack, so you were both waiting your turn in the dressing rooms.

The makeup artists had done their job, touching up your appearance along with Siwon's.

You were nervous, too nervous. You had taken a seat in front of the dressing table and your gaze never strayed from the screen in the corner of the dressing room.

Siwon, noticing your nerves, sat down next to you, your legs brushing against each other, as did your shoulders. Trying to instill a little confidence in you, Siwon's hand covered yours and placed it on his leg while slowly caressing the back of it.

That gesture had the desired effect, but when he brought your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, the dressing room fell silent.

While his touch was something you were used to, you couldn't say the same about the kisses. His lips had never touched you. Never. No kisses on your knuckles, your temple, or the top of your head. Nothing at all.

The makeup artists exchanged knowing glances while your face showed an expression of amazement.

"How sweet," commented one of the makeup artists, "my husband treats me like that too," she sighed dramatically.

"He must be a complete gentleman," murmured another, clasping her hands together as if she had witnessed the most romantic act in the world. "Don't worry about us, we'll be leaving soon to give you more privacy."

While your face flushed with embarrassment at the comments, Siwon remained unperturbed, just smiling. What set off your alarm bells? He never clarified the nature of your relationship.

After that display of affection, it seemed like a whole new world of possibilities opened up for Siwon.

When you two won an award for best supporting couple, his arm wrapped around your shoulders in camaraderie, but his lips planted a light kiss on your temple. A gesture that silently planted more doubts in your mind.

You tried not to read between the lines. You didn't want to see beyond his harmless displays of affection —until one day you visited the recording studio for Super Junior's music video.

Your hands were full carrying bags overflowing with food for them and their staff. Leeteuk was the first to come and help you with them, while Siwon slowly approached to wrap you in a hug.

The gesture that had previously seemed simply friendly now appeared to have some other connotation. The hug was reciprocated as usual, but the feeling was completely different.

Siwon separated you, holding you by the shoulders, his gaze traveling across your face, searching for signs of discomfort.

"Is everything okay?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"No."

Your answer surprised you as much as it did him. You didn't expect that burst of honesty, much less that the word would come out as if you were confirming your suspicions.

The silence had gone on too long to back down.

"I'm confused," you murmured, feeling that that voice and those words did not belong to you. "Since when did you stop seeing me as 'just a friend'? I mean, all those caresses, the kisses, the way you act with me it's all... confusing."

Your hands reached up to your head, your confused gaze increasing the impact of your words.

The expression of surprise always visible on the idol's face relaxed, giving way to a huge smile, the kind you had often seen him make for dramas. Only this time it wasn't acting, it was a broad, genuine gesture.

His hands took yours and placed them between you, intertwining his fingers with the same delicacy he had always done.

"Does that matter?" His arched eyebrow only served to dramatize the moment. "What's relatable here is that you noticed it. What do you plan to do now?"

You blinked in confusion, slowly processing his question.

Silence spread between you again, but the feeling was not one of awkwardness but of expectation. His hands continued to hold yours, and his gaze, those expressive eyes, conveyed the whole world of emotions he had kept locked inside.

"I don't know, Siwon. I… I don't know."

Confusion was clouding your judgment.

"If you don't mind, then I'll do what I have in mind."

He leaned toward you, bringing his face close to yours with the clear intention of kissing you.

The movement was slow, deliberate, calculated. Your breaths mingled in the small space between you, your hands clasped his, but you didn't pull away. You wanted that contact too.

Freeing your hands from his, you threw your arms around his neck, stood on tiptoe, and brought your lips close to his.

No words were needed to define that relationship, not when your feelings were mutual and the members of the group had witnessed it.

RYEOWOOK

The constant banter between you was commonplace. The arguments were something to behold, and although you could both say hurtful things to each other, you knew your limits and respected them.

The debates always ended in tears of laughter. With him laughing loudly and you doubled over, your stomach burning with pain from the effort of holding back your laughter.

Those moments could happen just between the two of you or in the company of someone else. It didn't really matter; you enjoyed that dynamic of teasing each other.

What Ryeowook could never conceive of was someone else getting involved.

No.

Arguments with you were something reserved solely for him, a tirade that made him selfish and monopolized your time. And you? You saw it as normal, completely blind to the suggestive glances or malicious comments from friends and strangers alike.

"You argue like you're a couple," someone commented at one point, laughing foolishly at their own remark.

"Maybe because we are," you declared, completely unaware of the reddish hue that spread across the singer's face. "Like a team. A dynamic duo. Isn't that right, Wookie?"

He nodded sheepishly as he let that idea sink in. Was that an admission of your feelings for him? Was not denying it at first proof that you had moved beyond friendship to make way for something more?

He didn't know; in fact, he didn't understand what had happened, but if you had made your feelings clear, the only thing he could do was show you that they were reciprocated.

The change happened gradually. Discussions about random topics slowly stopped, there was no more debate about whether a bear could beat a tiger or whether wearing a blue shirt made someone look superior compared to wearing a yellow one.

"Come on, change that pink hoodie for something else or people might think we're wearing matching outfits," you complained, pulling on the drawstrings that hung down from the sides of the fabric hood.

The idol shook his head and linked his arm through yours.

"Whatever, you were the one who said we were a team and that these things didn't matter."

And it really had been that way, until everyone started saying the same thing over and over again "You two make a cute couple."

You had never shown any interest in denying it; everything was supposed to be fine as long as you knew what kind of relationship you had. But him? Ryeowook just smiled and said "Thanks."

You noticed it, of course you were aware of the change, but you weren't the only one. When the Super Junior KRY subunit got together for rehearsals ahead of a music festival, they noticed it too.

"Don't you think Ryeonggu has changed?" Yesung suggested, nodding toward him. "You haven't argued, and he seems lost in his own bubble with you."

"Of course not, he's just spent more time with me than with you guys," you excused, waving your hand in front of the idol to downplay his words.

Then the singer returned to the meeting room with your exact order—one he knew by heart—and something random from the menu for his two companions.

"We've known each other for more than twenty years and he don't even know that I like iced americano," he pointed out with a mocking smile. "It's not about time."

"Ryeowook," you changed the subject, "Yesung says that we act like a couple."

"Maybe because we are."

His statement caused Kyuhyun to choke on his coffee and Yesung to nearly spill his. They hadn't expected that answer.

You laughed happily that everything had finally been decided. If he said you were a couple, then you were.

That's how you had always understood each other. After hearing a good reason, you accepted each other's decisions when you knew they were right.

The singer sat down next to you and planted a fleeting kiss on the tip of your nose, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His fingers intertwined with yours under the table, and your head found its natural place on Ryeowook's shoulder.

KYUHYUN

Everyone on the team was trying to make the performance memorable. The script had been memorized by everyone, and the relaxed atmosphere in the rehearsal room encouraged improvisation.

Loud laughter, changing song lyrics just to make them funny, improvised scenes, and forgotten lines were all things you were used to.

Part of the job.

But the camaraderie between Kyuhyun and you, the two stars of the show, went beyond the understanding of all the actors and actresses.

It was as if you were two people sharing the same brain cell.

He would say something, and you immediately knew how to complement it perfectly. Your exchange of funny and intelligent comments had everyone's stomachs aching from laughing so hard.

That's why no one was surprised to see you eating together, isolated in your own world, exchanging jokes in low voices and laughing in whispers so as not to disturb the comfortable silence in which the others were eating.

During the last rehearsals, while you stepped aside when you weren't supposed to be on stage, Kyuhyun always made sure no one stepped on the hem of your dress or smoothed your hair so it wouldn't look messy.

Every gesture was normal for you, but for everyone else it couldn't have been stranger.

Some of those actors had had the opportunity to work with him on previous plays and had never seen him behave like that with any member of the cast.

It was strange, too strange, the way he laughed so easily by your side or how accustomed he was to taking care of you and allowing you to take care of him.

So one day, when rehearsals were coming to an end and everyone had to double their efforts to put on a polished performance, sleep overcame you and, curled up in a sofa, you fell asleep.

Kyuhyun watched you there, curled up and hugging your own body as if you wanted to keep warm. Without thinking too much, he sat down next to you, placed your head on his lap, and began to stroke your hair as if you were a cat resting in the sun.

The idol was talking to everyone, enjoying the brief break while you pretended to continue sleeping.

Everyone chatted, unable to ignore the familiarity with which Kyuhyun stroked your hair and brushed the strands away from your face. Everyone waited for someone to make the inevitable comment, until it came.

"Have you made your relationship official? Congratulations on that," he said, raising his water bottle in a mock toast.

Your eyes widened. You had gone from a state of rest to one of alertness, where you turned to look at everyone as if they had misunderstood everything.

"That's not true, we don't… I don't… ugh" —your mind was a complete mess.

"We haven't made it official yet," Kyuhyun joked, but no one seemed to take it as such. "Oh, come on. We're not dating. We're just good friends."

You nodded repeatedly to leave no doubt among your colleagues, but when the day of the first performance arrived, everything fell apart.

Kyuhyun was too attentive, overly aware of your surroundings. If something was wrong with your makeup, he was the first to notice. An exposed thread in the seam of your costume, and he was already on his way with scissors, ready to fix it.

"Kyuhyun, you're suffocating me. Enough already," you muttered as you waited with him behind the scenes. "Everyone is whispering that we're dating."

"Do you want them to stop spreading those rumors?" he asked, smiling.

"Of course, that's why you need to give me some space. Go talk to the other actors," you said, weakly punching his chest to force him away from you.

"It would be easier if you just decided to date me," he offered casually.

You remained silent.

Speechless.

Your mind? Short-circuiting.

"Don't you think that would be more effective than continuing to deny it?" he insisted, bending down slightly to be at your height. "Come on, give me some kind of answer."

"I… I guess so," you replied amid the confusion. "I mean," you shook your head to refocus your attention on the topic you were discussing, "let's date. Let's try it."

"It's a shame you already have your makeup on," the singer smiled again, "if I kissed you now, all those hours in front of the mirror would be wasted."

So he had no choice but to take your hand and kiss your knuckles, hoping to convey all his feelings in that tender gesture.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Your own path II

PART I | PART II

Street artist Fem!reader x Police officer Yesung

Theme: Suspense and action AU.

Synopsis: The crime has been committed and the clues lead to a complex network of possible culprits, among whom you stand out, a street artist who will be a crucial piece in the police investigation.

Warnings: Description of violent acts, there is a theme of abuse but only in the first episode, light use of "(Y/N)", distress with comfort, description of weapons and their use, written with female pronouns.

w/c: 6.3k

a/n: Finally I'm on vacation so I'll be able to do properly updates almost daily!

Your own path II

The week passed quickly, and you lived it unconsciously. Everything that happened during that period of time had become a blurry memory.

The food from the day before, the number of times Stella applied makeup to your face, the things you went to get at the convenience store, or the count of sunny and rainy days. All of that remained in a foggy corner of your mind.

The constant threat of receiving news from the officers kept you on edge.

Every time a message arrived, your heart beat irregularly in anticipation of seeing what they had to tell you. Your trembling hands picked up the phone only to check again and again that it was discount coupons and other promotions.

The long-awaited message never arrived, and after a week, you hadn't even received a call from them.

For a moment, you thought it had been a scam, perhaps one of those famous meetings to recruit staff and introduce them to a pyramid sales scheme, but then you remembered the interrogation, all those devices that took information about you and the officers who had followed you; and none of those things seemed unreal or staged.

"This package was in front of the door yesterday," Stella said, giving the box a light kick and stretching her arms like a cat, "I forgot to tell you," she mumbled in the middle of a yawn. "I'm sorry, the trip left me exhausted."

You nodded before bending down to pick up the package and take it inside your room. A couple of days ago, you had ordered a new pair of headphones, so it could easily be them.

With a blade, you slowly opened the package and unexpectedly found that it did not contain the item you had ordered, only clothes and a card with your photograph printed on it.

In disbelief and facing the possibility of a mistake, you checked the recipient of the package and, sure enough, your name was clearly visible on the label; but you did not remember placing such an order, much less having that photograph taken.

Amidst uncertainty and curiosity, your brain decided to kick into gear just to give you the full picture.

"Damn it. It's them," you muttered, slapping the box.

So much time in suspense and focused on your cell phone had made you forget that it wasn't the only possible way to contact someone.

Feeling the weight of resignation, you unpacked two bags of clothes and the card with your photograph fell to the floor.

You checked inside the box and shook it to make sure there was nothing else inside. A neatly sealed black envelope popped out from one of the flaps at the bottom of the cardboard box.

The paper was on the floor, and you just stared at it from where you were sitting on the mattress. You didn't make the effort to pick it up, you didn't even dare to touch it.

It was like seeing a radioactive object and not wanting to expose yourself to that danger.

Someone knocked on your bedroom door and you jumped on the bed. Your heart raced at the startle and a mocking laugh formed on your lips.

"I've already ordered breakfast. Go downstairs to get it while I take a shower," Stella ordered, walking away without waiting for you to respond.

That's how your relationship had been since you arrived at her home. She never questioned you or suffocated you with extreme vigilance, she just watched over you from a distance. She observed, laughed, and corrected, but never hindered your development.

The envelope seemed to emit a voice that echoed in your head, a constant "you must open me" that kept lingering in your mind.

Finally, you picked up the envelope, removed the wax seal, and extracted the thin white sheet of paper containing sloppy handwriting.

"Tomorrow. 10:30. Donut shop on the beach. P.S. Wear your uniform."

Concise and seemingly urgent. That was the impression the contents of the letter left on you. You placed everything on the mattress and lazily opened one of the bags, hoping not to make too much noise.

Out came a black pencil skirt, a matching jacket, and a white blouse. It looked like an office worker's clothing order.

You proceeded to open the other one, and out came a kind of sports outfit in a disastrous sapphire blue color that would surely attract the attention of anyone who saw you wearing it. It looked like the uniform of one of the many moving companies in Korea.

As you prepared to run your hands over the fabric of both uniforms, you remembered the instructions on the note and with it Stella saying that the package had arrived the day before.

"That tomorrow is today!" you shouted in alarm, jumping to your feet.

You grabbed your clothes and didn't give yourself time to think about which uniform you should wear.

You blamed everyone for writing such a vague note.

You thought about which one would be most useful in a donut shop on the beach, but both outfits seemed out of place to you. Despite your reluctance and with little time left before the time specified in the letter, you grabbed the blue outfit and put it on.

You prayed that Stella hadn't finished showering or she would question you about how your entire existence had led you to wear such a strange outfit.

You left the room and checked the hallway from left to right. The way was clear.

You ran silently, put on your sneakers, and rushed out of the house.

It was a terribly sunny day. The heat rose with the humidity in the air, and the sun's rays hit the light surfaces, blinding you instantly.

In your rush to leave the house, you had forgotten your phone in your room and your wallet in the mail basket. You cursed under your breath but continued jogging down the street that led to the coast.

You felt ridiculous in your nylon outfit, which made a noise when the fabric rubbed against itself. With every stride, the fabric on the inside of your legs touched, producing that almost plastic-like sound.

People turned their heads to look at you as your ears turned red with embarrassment. Belonging to a team of researchers did not seem to be something to be proud of, but rather a true test of courage to overcome public humiliation.

It was ten fifteen o'clock when your shoes sank into the warm sand. You had reached the beach.

You placed the palm of your hand over your eyes like a visor to shield yourself from the sun. You were panting, and the heat was even more suffocating thanks to the synthetic fabric of your clothing.

Your eyes scanned the entire beach looking for the silly donut shop, one that you didn't like because of its employee and his harassing tendencies.

You hadn't visited the place in years because of the little story you shared with the owner's son. They had never been anything more than two strangers living together in a store, but when he made a stupid comment about your foreign origins, you decided that hacking the screens displaying the prices of the products was the best way to get revenge.

With your small laptop, an iced coffee, and a doughnut, you hacked the screens and displayed impressive offers that lasted three days until they could fix it.

Obviously, the security cameras gave you away, you became persona non grata to the owner, and earned your first arrest, for which Stella Woo had to reach an agreement with the doughnut shop.

You arrived at the agreed location, smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in your uniform, sighed, and placed your hand on the doorknob to push the door open and enter.

The bell signaling the arrival of a new customer rang, but a hand stopped you, gripping your wrist tightly.

It was Yesung, the agent who had chased you through the Busan streets.

"You can't go in," he said, summoning all his strength to hide a mocking smile. "They have your picture on the wanted wall."

Your face flushed suddenly, without even giving you a chance to control the heat that spread throughout your body.

The agent laughed discreetly, using his self-control to stay in character, but the slight twitch at the corners of his lips lasted long enough for you to notice the gesture.

The agent cleared his throat before giving you an explanation you clearly hadn't asked for.

"We have a mission that requires your cooperation as a rookie. You're a face no one knows at the agency, and we'll use your anonymity to obtain valuable information."

"And what does that mission consist of?"

"First, let's find a place to talk without so many people hanging around."

His plans to turn that scene into a casual encounter were ruined as soon as he saw the poster with your photo inside the doughnut shop.

He didn't know what had happened, but it was clear that you weren't allowed to enter the establishment.

Although his investigative instincts told him to ask why, he didn't want to show too much interest or make it seem like an interrogation when you had already been accepted as part of the team.

The walk along the coast was slow and uncomfortable. Your clothing attracted too much attention, and the contrast with your companion's fresh and carefree appearance only served to draw more stares as you passed by.

"Why are we meeting on a beach of all places in the city? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm roasting in this ridiculous uniform," you complained as you opened your jacket to let the coastal breeze cool you down a little.

"Because in ten minutes, a couple of street performers will arrive, and they have valuable information about a specific person," he explained carefully, checking out of the corner of his eye to make sure no one was following them. "That's where you come in."

"How did you conclude that I'll know what to do if no one explains it to me? All I received was a brief note with terrible handwriting."

"My handwriting isn't bad," he claimed, offended.

You laughed at his reaction, playfully tapping his arm with the palm of your hand.

The contact felt strange to the agent. He wasn't used to having his personal space invaded, much less being the victim of any contact with female agency staff.

Yesung cleared his throat to change the subject. It was the second time he had done so in the short time you two had been talking.

"Stay close to them, keep track of them, and bring back as much information as you can," he said, stopping abruptly and taking a couple of steps away from you. "We're counting on you," he said as he left.

He walked away from you without looking back, striding away and leaving you, once again, with incomplete information.

How were you supposed to identify these people? If something went wrong, would someone else be there to support you in the moment? From what you had seen in all those police and crime shows, there was always someone from the team disguised among the people to help the person on the mission.

You really hoped that for once in your life Hollywood wouldn't have ripped you off.

You started wandering along the shore, playing with the waves. You got close enough to wet the tips of your sneakers, but you ran when the sea threatened to soak your feet completely.

Yesung watched from afar as you played childishly at the water's edge. You smiled and delighted everyone with the splendid laugh you let out every time the water wet your shoes more than you had anticipated.

His gaze remained on you for a few more seconds, capturing your silhouette and losing itself in the sound of your laughter for a moment.

You moved away from the shore just to kill time. The mission was turning out to be a disaster, or at least it seemed that way until someone hugged you by the shoulders, leaving you petrified.

"How long did you have to spend in confinement?" asked the male voice with a smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you observed your new companion. He was the same person who had unnecessarily made you his accomplice on the night you were recruited.

"Look who's talking. As far as I know, you couldn't escape either, and you even gave them the information they were looking for," you replied mockingly.

"Is that how it seemed? Then I did my job well," he smiled smugly.

His gesture sent an inexplicable chill down your spine as a feeling of unease settled in your limbs.

You knew that feeling well; your intuition was warning you that spending time with him would only bring trouble. But Yesung had told you to follow that person and bring him the necessary information.

You preferred to take the risk of finding something valuable rather than confront immigration and be deported back home.

"Was the information you gave false?" you asked, raising an eyebrow and feigning disbelief as you continued walking wherever he was taking you.

"Ambiguous," he pointed out, "but since you're one of us, we could discuss the matter with the others."

You nodded slowly, hoping that was the kind of answer he wanted to hear from you. You couldn't say a word once he said you were one of them.

Clearly, you weren't a criminal, nor did you feel like a watcher among the agents who had sent you on the mission, but if your stay in that country was at stake, you might as well take sides and serve by doing good.

Your new companion placed his hand on your back, inviting you to follow his footsteps.

Yesung watched from a distance as you interacted with the people who had been involved in the mission. They weren't the target; your mission was with other criminals, not with that cautious informant.

His gaze followed you, taking in every detail. The criminal's hand holding you firmly by his side, the sly smile on that man's face as he talked to you about nonsense, and your uncomfortable grimace as you tried to fake a smile.

The mission was at risk, and he couldn't abandon his spot, but he couldn't follow you either. Regretting the decision he was about to make, he tapped the screen of his smartwatch twice and searched for Eunhyuk's number.

Calling him to ask for a favor wasn't something he expected to do anytime soon, but you, the rookie, were in danger, and he, as your partner, was unable to intervene.

"Hey babysitter, how's the mission going? We gave you an easy one because we didn't know if―"

"I need you to go protect her, she's with the people Siwon is investigating," he paused as he watched the route you were taking, "It looks like they're heading for the fourth bus stop.

The sense of urgency was noticeable in Yesung's voice, which was the only thing that stopped the mocking words Eunhyuk was preparing for the occasion.

"Understood," he complied, strapping the necessary equipment to his waist in case he had to intervene and get you out of there. "I'll send Wook to check the area and take your original position. I'll take care of her."

"I don't care if you're careful or not, just avoid any disasters."

"For someone who claims to have little interest in the case, you seem quite concerned about his well-being."

The agent clicked his tongue and ended the call. He had little time to rework his own mission to argue with his colleague.

Since you had decided to go make new friends, he would have to act as the infiltrator in that gang of artists.

Although his mind was still a little confused dividing his thoughts between your situation and his own, he needed to focus on doing his duty so as not to make any mistakes.

He had to trust Eunhyuk to make sure you didn't cause any trouble, as well as to keep intact the strategy Siwon had devised to catch that other information network without disrupting the other interconnected nets.

Stopping criminals was easy, but stopping the flow of information was another matter entirely.

Yesung had to use the initial strategy, so he rolled up the sleeves of his thin cotton shirt to his elbows, revealing his tattoos. If he needed to infiltrate a gang, he might as well start by looking like one of them.

While he waited for the suspects to arrive, you waited for a sign that the agents were protecting you from somewhere visually inaccessible.

The more that guy talked to you, the less you understood what it was all about.

"Since you said I'm part of the group," you finally spoke "I think it's time you gave me a mission. Something that shows you believe in me and take me seriously," you said as soon as the guy stopped chattering for a moment.

He seemed to think about it, pondering deeply until a new smile formed on his lips. It wasn't the same wolfish expression that had made you shudder before, but a mischievous one.

"We have to deliver some information" he said, savoring the idea, letting the context of the mission flow for your understanding. "We know we have an agent on our heels and we need a decoy."

"Will I be the distraction?"

"That's right," he said, giving you a thumbs up, approving your answer. "We'll send you with the wrong luggage, and with all those parkour moves you know how to do, you'll have to attract the agents' attention."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just send it by text message?" you asked, your expression blank.

"My dear colleague," he put his arm around your shoulders and, with a little force, made you lean in as if he were about to tell you the biggest secret in the universe, "everything that crosses the internet leaves a trace."

It was a great point. If they wanted to go unnoticed, they needed to leave as little evidence as possible.

"What do you say?" he urged, releasing his grip on you. "Are you with us?"

"You bet," you nodded, bumping hands with your new partner.

Once the deal was done, the thief handed you a backpack and said goodbye, warning you to meet him again at dawn at the same spot.

You waved goodbye and walked away in the opposite direction to the one he had taken. Just to be on the safe side, in case other kinds of police were in the area.

Despite agreeing to join the criminal group, you didn't want to be linked to them so soon.

Your heart was beating fast and your hands were producing an almost imperceptible sweat. You were mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. It had been too much for one day.

You shifted your backpack from one hand to the other in an unconscious gesture, balancing your weight at the same pace as you walked, your gaze fixed on some point on the horizon.

Finally, you decided to sling the object over your shoulder, ready to find the agent and give him the information you had easily obtained.

"Hands up," threatened an unfamiliar voice. Behind you, you felt the unmistakable shape of a gun barrel pressing against your body, so you decided to obey the order. "Conspiring with the enemy? I told Teuk we shouldn't recruit you."

"I'm not conspiring with anyone. I'm not like them," you assured him, frowning at the absurdity of the accusation. "I was fulfilling the mission."

"Tell that to your babysitter and we'll see if he believes you."

Finally, you had the chance to see him face to face. He seemed to be just another agent, one much slimmer and more agile than Yesung, one whose sharp words made you believe that Yesung was a saint compared to him.

You didn't ask any questions; instead, you waited until the agent started walking before following him closely. You didn't want your new apparent ally to suspect that you were involved with the police.

The walk back to headquarters was silent. The space was filled only with the noise of daily hustle and bustle and the relaxed chatter of people crossing the street.

All of this was already familiar to you. You were mixed in with those people; you had established a life among all those streets that were now full of memories and your paintings.

Something glinted in the distance, a kind of light reflected in a mirror that pointed directly at your face. In addition to being annoying, the light was blinding.

"Hey!" you complained, instinctively closing your eyes to shield yourself from the light.

Eunhyuk became alert, took your hand, and placed you behind his body, establishing a firm barrier between you and a possible enemy.

Your vision was still blurred, although you could make out things, in the midst of everything, the trace of that whitish spot that stood before your eyes still obstructed your view.

"Damn it, I see a huge white spot," you complained, closing your eyes tightly, waiting for the fog in your vision to disappear.

"Don't move away, I think it's a trap," whispered the agent, opening his arms to cover even more space in case someone wanted to harm you.

You were the team's new responsibility. You had demonstrated your skill at escaping, and deep down, Eunhyuk hoped that you would be able to act just as quickly again if necessary.

He grabbed your wrist again, making sure his grip was firm without digging his fingers into your skin.

Footsteps could be heard in the distance. They were clearly the footsteps of a couple of people running, and screams soon followed. Out of nowhere, a person landed in front of you.

The boy immediately recognized Eunhyuk, so taking advantage of the momentum to get up, he lunged at him. His body instinctively dodged him, but you did not.

Your back hit the brick wall of a building, causing you to lose your balance and sense of direction.

You tried to pull yourself together as quickly as possible without giving yourself time to think about what to do. Your legs acted on autopilot, and soon you found yourself caught up in that inexplicable chase.

The agent who had been looking after you led the way, dodging street vendors and slipping through narrow streets without losing sight of the young man who had attacked you.

In front of you, the road wound its way up a slope, a sloping path lined with a white railing.

Feeling the power that only adrenaline could provide, you reached out and grabbed the railing, using the momentum to jump up.

With that speed and strength, you managed to shorten the distance and get behind your attacker.

You were just a few feet away, only a couple of strides away from reaching him.

The road ahead appeared, a clear obstacle for you, who were running against the flow of traffic.

You knew that this situation was advantageous for him, that at any moment the cars would help him escape and hinder the chase.

"Watch out!" you shouted, remembering the silly strategy Stella used when she played racing games with you and wanted to force you to brake.

The criminal stopped for a moment, long enough for you to lunge at him and knock him to the ground.

Both bodies fell to the ground with the loud sound of the inevitable collision.

Your knee was positioned on the center of the man's back, and you wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling his head back to prevent him from escaping.

"Are you crazy? You're going to kill me," the boy complained as he writhed, trying to knock you down.

"You should have thought about that before tackling me as soon as you saw me," you gasped, breathing heavily.

It had been a great chase, an act that had ended successfully, and the fact that your attacker was pinned to the asphalt was better than any other recognition you could receive.

Eunhyuk arrived quickly, as did Yesung and agent Wook. Each of them was panting as hard as you were.

"Well done," Eunhyuk exclaimed, shaking the hair on your head, causing a tangle to form on your crown.

Yesung reached out to stop the contact. His fingers tightened around his teammate's wrist, and everyone's breath caught for a brief moment.

Your colleague seemed surprised by his own reaction, the way his eyes traveled from you to his hand stopping Eunhyuk giving him away.

He quickly pulled Eunhyuk's arm toward his face, pretending to check for some invisible wound.

"I thought he attacked you," he said with his usual seriousness.

Eunhyuk smiled, knowing what was going on, aware of the embarrassed smile that threatened to turn up the corners of his companion's lips.

He was lost if he thought he was going to let that pass.

"Worried about me?" he asked playfully.

"If you get hurt, it'll be my fault. I should have been watching her," he replied quickly, too quickly, as if the answer had been completely premeditated. "I don't want a negative record in the report."

"I'm sorry to interrupt all this tension filled with concern and the team's beautiful meeting," you said, raising your voice to be heard, "but I need help with this guy."

Ryeowook was the first to kneel down to handcuff the criminal's hands, and Yesung gave you his hand to help you stand up.

The touch of his fingers on the skin of your hand was gentle. Once you began to rise, your partner placed his other hand under your elbow to steady you on both feet.

You blinked in confusion. You hadn't expected that kind of treatment from him, not when he had abandoned you to your fate in the middle of a dangerous mission.

The last thing he had shown was concern for you, so seeing him being so careful with you only made you more alert.

Once you were standing, you pulled your hand away with more force than necessary, making it clear that there was still a barrier of mistrust between the two of you.

Your eyes met for a moment, one that lasted a breath before you both looked away, as if looking at each other burned.

With the criminal in custody and the afternoon still young, everyone left in a car for the station where they would interview the suspect.

You had seen the same routine before. The man with the headphones continued in front of the computer, the cameras continued to focus on the interrogation booth, and the feeling of being watched haunted you like an overwhelming presence.

While the whole ceremony was taking place, they allowed you to enter a small room where there was a couch, a coffee table, and a first aid kit on top of it.

Yesung entered behind you, closing the door carefully. His hands held the plastic case containing bandages and other items for some kind of healing.

Without asking permission, he took your hand, exposing the cuts on your knuckles. You hadn't noticed them, and now that you were aware of their existence, that part of your hand did nothing but sting.

Your partner took a swab and dipped it in an antiseptic solution to disinfect the wound. The liquid caused a burning sensation that made you pull your hand away, but he stopped the movement by holding your limb firmly.

There was no delicacy in his movements, nothing to indicate that you were receiving preferential treatment. His firm movements were calculated, precise.

Once the burning sensation became tolerable, he applied ointment to your wound and bandaged the area, making sure the fabric covered the entire area before cutting it and securing it.

"Could you be more careful? You're jeopardizing the mission with mistakes like this," he scolded, as if you had failed.

You looked at him confused and annoyed, your frown and the way your eyes narrowed in judgment of his words betraying the frustration his warning had caused you.

"Sure, boss," you replied, "next time I'll let the criminal get away so I don't get a few scratches in the process."

The irony of your words did not go unnoticed, nor did your angry gaze. Yesung didn't seem to care; as soon as he finished treating the wound, he left the room to write up the incident report.

The cold wind burned your face, your numb fingers clung to the strap of your backpack against your will, and strands of hair that had escaped from your ponytail fluttered around your face.

You were freezing, your mind was focused on keeping warm, and your movements were muscle memory rather than premeditated.

Yesung was hot on your heels, running and skillfully dodging the obstacles in his path.

The poles and traffic lights were great sources of momentum to keep running and chasing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Yesung shouted as you both made you way toward the coast.

"I'm fulfilling my mission," you replied with what little air you could hold in your lungs before forcing yourself to inhale quickly.

Your heart could have burst out of your chest at any moment, and yet you didn't seem to consider stopping.

You had to deceive the agents and also your supposed partners in crime.

The cold made everything more complicated. The salty wind carried sand in its gusts, and it hit your sweat-covered face.

Noon was too dark, with thick clouds hiding the sun and the strong waves of the sea filling every corner with their roar.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement at this new adventure, but also with the constant fear that a thunderstorm could strike at any moment.

"Are you playing both sides?" Yesung asked, although it sounded more like an accusation.

"No, I'm not!" you shouted, trying to make yourself heard above the mixed sounds of the wind, the waves, and your heartbeat.

Of course you weren't on the side of the criminals; you could never be after leaving your first home.

The mere thought of all the information that came to you in your early years, or the conversations that filtered through to your bedroom door, made your body shudder. It had all been too sinister for you to choose that path of your own free will.

Your feet hesitated to move forward; you didn't want to run away. You had already accomplished your mission; everyone had fallen for the lie, and if luck was on your side, Siwon would have gotten what he needed.

If everything went according to plan, Siwon would have in his possession the digital blueprints for tracking the bank accounts where a single family stored their money and managed to streamline the best tax evasion and money laundering network.

"I give up!" you shouted as you swung your single-strap backpack.

The pendulum-like movement of the object kept Yesung on edge.

The wind roared along with the waves crashing against the rock formations. The clouds moved quickly across the sky, clustering in patches of different shades of gray.

Your fingers let go of the backpack and it flew toward the agent. While the object was in the air, lightning flashed across the sky and thunder shook the ground beneath your feet.

A scream escaped your throat and without thinking twice, you threw yourself toward your partner.

The officer managed to grab the fabric of the backpack, preventing it from slipping out of his hands, and in an even more precise movement, he caught you and pulled you to his chest.

"Are you okay?" he asked, panting, holding his breath as if the mere act of performing that vital function would scare you.

"The thunder," your hands formed fists, clinging tightly to the officer's uniform. "Let's go home."

Another thunderclap rumbled with less force and your body vibrated as if its echo were repeating inside you.

His fingers tightened on your back. In his mind, the desire to embrace you danced in time with the duty to push you away so you could focus on the here and now.

He could feel your heartbeat, the way your trembling hands clung to his clothes and your body shook uncontrollably, forcing him to wrap his arms around you. His hand began to caress your back from top to bottom, the sensation constant and somehow comforting.

"Don't be afraid, we'll go home," whispered the agent, resting his chin on top of your head.

The backpack and its contents had been forgotten; your presence so close had eclipsed any rational thought in Yesung's mind.

Stella looked away from your curled-up form on the sofa to the police officer sitting in the dining room staring at his cup of coffee as if it were the most interesting item in the house.

The more she thought about how a police officer had carried you home, the stranger the scenario became.

"Thank you for bringing my model home," she said, bowing slightly.

That phrase had already been uttered three times, both of them knew it perfectly well, but neither dared to mention it.

"You see, officer," she added cautiously, "she has a little problem with thunderstorms. The louder the thunder, the worse her seizures tend to be."

"I see," was all he muttered before bringing the cup to his lips, avoiding eye contact with Stella at all costs.

"How exactly do you two know each other? It's strange that she spends time with people who don't share her tastes."

"It just happened that way. One incident led to another, and we became friends," he replied awkwardly.

Despite being intelligent and having hundreds of alibis for every occasion, his mind had gone blank as soon as Stella opened the door and practically pushed him into the small living room to allow him to put you down in one of the soft armchairs.

"I see," she smiled amusedly, giving the same monotonous answer he had given earlier.

An uncomfortable silence fell, the weight of the unasked questions preventing either of them from looking the other in the eye.

Yesung didn't understand where the nerves were coming from. He hadn't done anything wrong, he hadn't broken any laws, and yet he felt like one of the many informants being interrogated.

"Did (Y/N) get into some kind of trouble?" she ventured, giving him space to tell his side of the story.

"No, not at all," he hastened to say, waving his hands for her to dismiss the idea. "I was walking along the beach and saw her looking a little confused as the storm began, so I offered to help her."

Stella pretended to accept the excuse, even though she knew it was a lie. You would never let a stranger take care of the problem.

The only thing she couldn't figure out was the relationship between the two of you. She wasn't in a hurry, she decided with a smile, she would ask you little by little until finally had the complete answer.

"Does she work as a model?" Yesung asked, slightly interested in that part of your life.

Stella decided that the way he tried to control the growing blush on the tips of his ears was cute. Although he was a stranger to her in your life, she would satisfy her curiosity by waiting for him to make the right decision.

"She is, she is," she assured him in a melodic voice, preventing the agent from diverting his attention from the subject. "I use her to try out makeup styles for runways. She has a harmonious face, don't you think?" He nodded as if that were an absolute truth, and Stella just smiled. "That's why she's perfect for me, like a blank canvas on which I can draw anything and she'll make it look good."

"So she's a makeup model, not one of those who walk the catwalk and wear hundreds of different outfits."

His conclusion came out in words, a small slip that revealed how comfortable he felt in that house with the strange presence of the woman who seemed to hold you in high esteem.

"Sometimes she does. In fact, she'll be participating in one next week."

She was enjoying his poor attempt to hide his feelings and disguise his interest with indifference. If only you were awake, she thought, you would surely make the whole experience even more fun.

"Would you like to attend the event? I have a number of passes."

The conversation continued animatedly, with questions and answers exchanged, revealing details about the life of the officer who traded information for yours.

When the cup of coffee was finished and you seemed to be deep in sleep, Yesung left the house with a pass to the fashion show in his pants pocket.

If that had been some kind of interrogation, it would be more efficient for him to hire Stella than to keep Siwon and Heechul on the team. He didn't understand how it had all happened, much less could he explain why he had accepted the invitation to the fashion show.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He still had things to learn about you, he still needed to understand why you helped the criminals by distracting everyone's attention while you ran away with a backpack that contained nothing.

It was too much to process, and he would do so, but at his own pace. Little by little, he would figure out your behavior and his own.

Something was wrong with him. He knew it was wrong as soon as his attitude began to change around you, which was pathetic considering you had only known each other for a few days.

If it was some useless feeling that would hinder the mission, then he would take care of keeping it at bay, slowly forcing it to disappear.

But for now, as the moon shone in the sky and the stars twinkled above, he would allow himself to savor the feeling.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Too late

Fem!reader x Yesung

Synopsis: The empty space on the mattress presents a new challenge for you: convincing Yesung to come back to bed.

Warnings: Pure and simple fluff, written with female pronouns, no use of "(Y/N)", the always and important... grammar mistakes

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: I hope you are enjoying and supporting this 20th anniversary comeback.

MASTERLIST

Too late

The moon shone brightly in the sky, the only source of light in the thick darkness of night. The shadows cast on the white curtains of the room woke you from your deep sleep.

You were curled up between the sheets, sheltered by layers of fabric, your head resting on a fluffy pillow.

You shifted on the mattress, settling onto your side, bending your knees against your chest to retain even more warmth.

With a slight movement, you grabbed the edge of the sheet and moved it to cover Yesung's body, who was supposed to be sharing the bed with you.

Without opening your eyes, you stretched out your arm with the intention of hugging the idol, but what you found was the cold mattress cover and a completely empty space.

You pouted and reached out for him again, giving up when you felt the bed cover under your fingers.

You sighed in exasperation, waking up completely and feeling the bitter sting of sudden loneliness.

It wasn't the first time you had gone to bed with Yesung only to find his side of the mattress empty. Actually, that wasn't something that particularly bothered you.

But now it was different.

This was the third day the singer had spent on edge, writing things or contemplating one of his many art books.

He was in the middle of promoting with the group, and you knew how stressful that could be for him. It was obvious that he needed to rest for a moment so he could give his all on stage.

You took the sheet and wrapped it around your body like a cloak. You were too sleepy to bother looking for a robe or putting on a coat to protect yourself from the nighttime cold.

Your feet slipped into a pair of slippers, and you walked lazily, dragging your feet across the floor.

Slowly, you moved out of the room, the sound of your shoes rubbing against the floor the only thing breaking the silence in the house.

Suddenly, you stood still as your eyes adjusted to the darkness outside the room. You leaned your body against the wall and waited a moment, just long enough to start moving again lazily.

The door to the room where the books, records, and movies were kept was ajar. A faint halo of light peeked through the crack, revealing the idol's presence in that room.

Knowing he was there made you breathe a sigh of relief and exhaustion. If he was in that room, it meant that, at least, he hadn't been racking his brains trying to compose a song.

Your hand grasped the golden doorknob, pushing lightly so you could peek your head in and see inside the room.

There he was, sitting on the sofa, slightly hunched over as he held a book in his hands.

His expression was indecipherable. He frowned as he looked intently at the book.

The idol's fixed gaze was a clear sign that he wasn't paying attention to the page that had surely been in front of him for more than two minutes.

You knocked twice on the door with your knuckles. The sound caught Yesung's attention, who finally seemed to snap out of the spell that had kept him staring at the book.

"What are you doing up too late?" he whispered as he closed the printed copy he was holding.

"That's my line," you replied, your voice still hoarse. "Why aren't you in bed?"

The singer leaned back against the sofa and opened his arms, inviting you into that small, intimate space.

"I couldn't sleep," he confessed as you sat down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I was wasting time lying in bed, so I decided to come here so I wouldn't wake you up."

"You should have told me," you complained, pouting, "at least then I could have come to keep you company earlier."

Unconsciously, Yesung brought a hand to his chest, right over his heart, thinking it had stopped beating.

Your sleepy gaze still had that sparkle that had captivated him, your lips were forming that tender smile that completely enchanted him, and, as if that weren't enough, your body molded itself to his so that you could remain together on the couch.

Yesung clicked his tongue at your response and put his arm around your shoulders to hold you close to him.

The singer held you steady, caressing your arm over the sheet that covered your body. His hand moved up and down your limb while his lips placed light kisses on the top of your head.

The sensation was relaxing, too much so. So much so that your eyes threatened to close again to fall asleep.

You weren't there for that; you needed him to rest, not on a sofa, but on the comfortable soft mattress waiting for him in the bedroom.

"Go rest in the bedroom," he suggested softly, "I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"No," your little complaint came out like a purr, "I won't move from here without you."

The idol's laughter vibrated in his chest, barely contained so as not to dispel the fatigue that was evident on your face.

"I promise I'll come as soon as I finish looking at the book I was reading," he explained quietly, trying to convince you as he continued to stroke your arm in that hypnotic rhythm.

"I won't leave without you," you declared with conviction. "Read, and when you're done, take me to bed with you."

The decision was final and decisive. There was no other way to make him see reason, and if he refused to follow you, then you had no choice but to follow him.

Yesung let out a slight laugh before placing the book on the coffee table in front of him.

"Sometimes you're so stubborn and extremely convincing," he murmured, knowing he was defeated.

You had won, and at the same time, you had cleared his mind of the cloud of uncertainty that the comeback always generated in him.

He gently pulled you against his body so he could comfortably place you on his lap and carry you bridal style.

Finally, he stood up with you in his arms and slowly made his way to the room you two shared. The singer placed one knee on the mattress and began to gently lay you down on the bed, trying not to make too much noise.

Your body sank into the softness of the surface, but your hand clung to his arm, afraid that he would leave you there, alone again.

"I'm just going to change my clothes so I can sleep," he explained in a whisper.

You shook your head, unable to open your eyes.

Yesung took your hand, the one clinging to his arm, and kissed your knuckles to relax your grip. The method worked, and soon you found yourself fast asleep, completely unaware of the loving gaze with which Yesung was watching you.

He couldn't resist any longer and took his place beside you, leaning against you and gently hugging you against his chest.

You were so convincing. You always knew what to do and what to say to calm his mind and comfort his heart.

He placed another kiss on the top of your head and closed his eyes, allowing his heartbeat to slow to the rhythm of yours and his mind to sink into the intoxicating sensation of holding you in his arms, because there was no better feeling than loving and caring for you in that way.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Thanks for the request! It really keep me inspired no matter the insomnia bc today was the 20th anniversary comeback for Super Junior and I don't sleep just to focus on the stream 😅

I hope this story keeps going in the way you are expecting 🥹

Your own path I

PART I | PART II

Street artist Fem!reader x Police officer Yesung

Theme: Suspense and action AU.

Synopsis: The crime has been committed and the clues lead to a complex network of possible culprits, among whom you stand out, a street artist who will be a crucial piece in the police investigation.

Warnings: Description of violent acts, there is a theme of abuse but only in the first episode, light use of "(Y/N)", distress with comfort, description of weapons and their use, written with female pronouns.

w/c: 4k.

a/n: Here comes another AU after taking a while to finish the previous one. I hope you like it!

Your own path I

Your breathing had gone from steady to constant panting, forcing you to inhale and exhale through your mouth. Beads of sweat began to form on your skin and your hands clenched tightly into fists.

The darkness of your room made everything even more gloomy, and no matter how hard you struggled to wake up, your brain refused to let you escape your own memories.

You were dreaming, you were sure of that. Within that near-hallucination, you were a spectator, like a bodiless entity, like the ghost of Christmas past and future witnessing your own destiny.

In the dream, it was also nighttime, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol and tobacco creeping under the door swirled around you.

Lightning flashed across the sky, and the echo of thunder made you gasp as you covered your body with the three blankets that the maids had kindly laid out for you on that stormy night.

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky with white flashes that cast dark shadows among the clouds.

Your fists clenched around the sheets, clinging to the only thing that could bring you comfort on that terrifying evening as your breathing quickened, along with your heartbeat.

You were terrified. The dream was as vivid as your memory of it all.

As the current you, the owner of the dream, the one who seemed like a mere spectator, you tried to help the fourteen-year-old girl get away from the room and run for shelter among the guests who were chatting comfortably in the huge living room of the grand mansion.

"Get out of here, you should go find Mom and Dad," you encouraged, knowing that you couldn't hear yourself, that no matter how many different courses of action you suggested, you couldn't hear yourself.

Then the door opened quietly. A ray of light filtered through the small opening as a whitish orb appeared.

The wide-eyed gaze of that person scanned the room, searching for shelter and finding a little entertainment along the way.

It didn't matter if you were the fourteen-year-old you or the current you who remained invisible to everyone in that dream, the fear that gaze instilled in you remained intact.

Your skin broke out in goosebumps, your eyes scanned the room looking for the wardrobe, and you stood in front of it, holding the doors shut to prevent anyone from opening them.

Being a spectator was as terrifying as having experienced it firsthand, but you couldn't stop it; the memory would continue to play back without changing a thing.

Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky and a scream escaped from the girl's lips as torrential rain fell without warning. Hailstones hit the window, forcing the girl out of her hiding place.

"Don't do it!" you shouted furiously. "Go downstairs and find Mom and Dad!"

Your words went unheard, and the child version of you continued walking toward the wardrobe that you were trying to block in your now spectral form.

You tried to push the girl away, but you could only wave your hands in the air without touching her. After all, your presence was only an illusion in the midst of the painful memory.

The door to the room opened wider, revealing a tall, skinny man who reeked of alcohol.

You were crying from the helplessness and despair that the dream was causing you. If you could have changed anything, you would have, but even in your dreams there was no force that could rescue you from what was about to happen.

The man opened the closet door, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, and that fear overshadowed every other sensation in the girl. Without thinking twice, she ran into the closet and locked herself in, at the mercy of the man who had remained outside.

"Is there enough room for two?" he asked, slurring his words due to the excess of liquor clouding his reasoning.

"Say no, you must close the door and say no," you whispered with a broken, hoarse voice.

Reliving that was killing you. Seeing everything without being able to do anything was the worst nightmare you had ever experienced in your life.

"Are you afraid of the storm too?" whispered the girl, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't see any lightning.

"Very much."

The man took that as an invitation to invade your privacy and climbed into the cabinet, sitting next to you, pressing his body against yours, against the body of the fourteen-year-old girl.

While the girl's eyes remained closed, the adult's hand made its way under the cotton T-shirt that had been part of your pajamas.

The grim sensation of the stranger's touch made you scream in your sleep. It was a sharp sound, loud enough to wake you up.

Your eyes quickly scanned your surroundings. Fortunately, you were no longer fourteen years old, and you were no longer in New York.

You sighed to release all the accumulated tension, using the back of your hand to wipe away the mixture of tears and sweat that still lingered on your face. You bent one arm and covered your eyes with it.

Your heart was racing and your hand was still clutching the sheets. It had been a nightmare, a terrible reminder that you had done the right thing by escaping from your parents' home.

Thinking it would be difficult to fall back asleep, you decided to get up and leave your room.

Busan was a safe place, its streets filled with art, food, and friendly people. The owner of that one-person house was a clear example of this.

Stella Woo had welcomed you into her home, supported your dreams, and let you live freely. She gave you everything your parents could never give you.

Once you had your big coat wrapped around you, you walked to the bathroom to wash your face. The contact of your warm skin with the cold water made you shiver, and you were grateful for it. You needed to regain your consciousness to live with your mind far away from all the turmoil you had seen in the early stages of your life.

You had had more than enough of… practically everything. Money had never been a problem in your old home; the real issue was the lack of attention and how insignificant you were in your parents' lives.

You splashed water on your face again before looking up to face the image reflected in the mirror.

It was you, the adult, the street artist who kept the murals decorating the Gamcheon neighborhood alive, the assistant Stella took everywhere she needed to work, the stunt double in some dramas involving foreigners.

You were fine, alive, at home, and far from the problems of New York.

You took a deep breath and ran the fluffy towel over your face to dry it, rested both hands on the edges of the sink cabinet, and sighed with relief.

Your breathing was back to normal and your heart rate had slowed. Everything was where it should be. Just like you. Just like your current life.

You left the towel hanging on the metal hook attached to the wall tile and headed to the kitchen to find a glass to pour yourself some water. Fear and tension had left you dehydrated and with a dry throat.

You opened the refrigerator looking for bottles of water, but there were none. It was completely empty, except for a note left by Stella reminding you that "you should have restocked the refrigerator two days ago." You took out the note and closed the refrigerator before grabbing your wallet to go get some much-needed liquid at one of the CU stores.

The light in the hallway went out as soon as you closed the door, making sure the electronic lock was working perfectly. The store wasn't far away, so the short walk at two in the morning might help you get that memory out of your mind.

The streets sloped steeply downward as you got closer to the store. The return trip was going to be difficult because you would have to face the same streets but walking uphill.

The night wind coming in from the coast was refreshing, the strands of your short hair tickling your neck and sometimes obstructing your view, but the sensation made you feel alive.

You turned left and the sound of patrol cars announcing a police chase put you on alert. As a foreigner, you had suffered endless accusations that had complicated your life a little, but now you were hardened against it, although that didn't mean that the accusations about your profession and appearance had stopped altogether.

The quick footsteps of someone could be heard just a few meters away from where you were standing.

A man was carrying a backpack in his hands while three people followed closely behind him. Some pedestrians moved aside so as not to get in his way.

"Stop the thief!" shouted an elderly woman.

The man was agile. Without stopping he bent down, grabbed a trash bag, and tore it open so that the garbage spilled onto the ground, hindering the pursuit.

You were about to step aside, your legs ready to move, when the thief made eye contact with you.

His eyes locked with yours before the two of you established a kind of silent communication.

He smiled with relief and you opened your eyes worriedly, clearly terrified by the thought you saw crossing his mind. You shook your head violently as he got closer to you.

"It's your turn, run!"

The criminal grabbed your hand and dragged you along at his pace. You had no choice but to obey and put your legs to work.

Nothing in life had prepared you to be the victim of a chase in your pajamas at two in the morning.

In the middle of that race, the criminal handed you the backpack with a smile worthy of an advertising campaign and ran off in a different direction.

Two police officers changed course toward the thief, and another began to chase you.

"I'm not a thief!" you explained, breathless from the frantic chase.

"Then stop!" he ordered, his voice much steadier than yours.

"If I do, you'll arrest me."

The race took you toward a detour, and you skillfully hooked your arm onto the streetlight pole to take advantage of the turn and momentum that the metal cylinder provided.

The officer followed your footsteps as if he were a robot programmed to catch criminals.

Each stride seemed calculated; nothing in his movements looked deliberate. His pace quickened, closing in dangerously.

"Stop before I add more charges against you," he said in his commanding voice, one that was too dangerous and convincing.

"You should practice your speech," you gasped, "threatening someone won't make them stop."

You were about to reach an alleyway, sure that you would end up in one of those narrow streets whose steps would take you to another road but would cost you time.

You watched the railing as your legs continued to run swiftly. If you could still put your hand on that metal tube and use it to propel yourself up without having to step on the stairs, it would be a miracle.

You changed the rhythm of your stride to support your dominant leg and gain momentum. In midair, you grabbed your backpack with one hand and stretched out the other to maneuver comfortably.

Your fingers successfully grabbed the railing, your arm carrying your entire weight, propelling you up the stairs.

You flew. You were clearly flying as you tucked your legs in to plant them on the ground when the time was right.

The officer ran his fingers through his hair and lowered his arm with force. He was frustrated, clearly annoyed at having lost you.

Your movement was deliberate but precise, a well-executed maneuver to escape that ridiculous chase.

Your legs touched the edge of the last step, almost slipping, almost failing to achieve your goal.

You tried to throw your arms forward to balance yourself, and were about to succeed when a hand grabbed you, making your task easier and preventing your body from falling down the stairs.

"Thank you," you gasped with relief.

"Tell that to the police," said a deep voice, placing metal handcuffs on your wrist. "You're under arrest."

"Damn it."

The police officer who had been chasing you calmly climbed the stairs, one by one, step by step. You didn't understand if you were in the middle of an arrest or about to witness the start of a catwalk show you used to attend with Stella.

The officer looked like a model. With slightly long hair, muscles sculpted by the rigorous training that his profession surely demanded, an imperturbable countenance, and a rhythmic gait as if he wanted to show off the uniform he was wearing.

"Well done, Kyuhyun," said the man who appeared to be of higher rank than his assistant.

"Wook must be about to catch his accomplice," reported the man who had just been introduced as Kyuhyun.

The two agents exchanged suspicious glances. Perhaps it was some kind of code between them, or maybe they had simply spent enough time together to understand each other with that kind of signaling.

The unnamed agent snatched your backpack and inspected the inside, his hands desperately searching every pocket; and judging by the way he threw the backpack to the ground, he hadn't found what he was looking for.

The sound of the fabric hitting the cold concrete surprised his teammate and you.

"It's not here?" he asked, only to receive a look that clearly said "no." "All right, Yesung, let's go get Wook and see if he got it."

Kyuhyun didn't hesitate to pull on the chain connecting the two handcuffs to force you to follow him to the patrol car. You felt discouraged, like a puppy being dragged home by its owner.

Although the chase had encouraged that feeling of adventure that had coursed through every part of your body in the past, now you regretted having kept running under the influence of adrenaline.

"Do you have your ID?" asked the officer named Yesung.

"It must be in my wallet."

"Where?"

You wanted to joke that it was in your back pocket, just to see his serious expression break, but there was no back pocket, not on the thin pajama pants.

"The coat pocket."

You shifted your hips to the left to indicate the exact spot where it was located. The thing was, you didn't remember that little plastic card being exactly where you had indicated.

The officer, as expressionless as you had known him to be, removed the wallet with extreme caution. It was a swift, meticulously rehearsed movement. His technique seemed more like that of an experienced pickpocket than a police officer.

The synthetic leather item was inspected until he found the small ID card with your information written on it. The officer then slid your belongings back into place and, with a signal from his fingers, ordered Kyuhyun to take you inside the patrol car.

Both police officers could have been extremely cautious with you, treating you like a dangerous criminal who was going to slip away at any moment, but the officer named Yesung placed his hand on the top of the door frame to prevent you from hitting your head when you got into the car.

It was like seeing the good cop and the bad one coexisting in one person.

The patrol car drove through a few streets in the city before stopping in front of a convenience store where Wook was waiting. The real criminal had been caught, his hands cuffed behind his back.

"He had it," murmured the other officer, throwing a USB stick in the direction of his two other colleagues.

The door opened and the cold night air seeped into the vehicle. The real thief got in as if it were his private transport, completely accustomed to being there.

The criminal greeted you cynically as he exchanged a few words with the officers. They seemed like old acquaintances, a bunch of enemies who were used to seeing each other constantly.

You decided to look out the window to distract your mind from the mess you were in. Your idea of a quiet walk to buy water had ended in disaster.

Stella. Oh no. Stella Woo would be upset with you if she received a call from you saying you were under arrest. She wouldn't be happy, that was for sure, but she obviously wouldn't travel from Shanghai to Busan just to plead your innocence.

The police station was nothing like anything you had ever seen before. No, it was a real dungeon. A hideout designed for interrogations monitored by other people who seemed attentive to everything that happened inside.

Your heart began to beat a little faster and your breathing became a little more visible, your chest rising and falling steadily.

"Bring in the first suspect," said another officer who was sitting behind a computer with noise-canceling headphones firmly in place over his ears.

The man who had made you his accomplice entered, still handcuffed. There was no glass that allowed you to see the interrogation as in the movies.

The cubicle was completely dark, and the only one monitoring everything was the guy sitting in front of the computer. The monitor showed several boxes with different shots of the inside of the interrogation room.

The agent deftly moved his fingers across the keyboard, taking note of every detail. His words, movements, and attitudes. Any gamer would envy that finger agility.

"How long have they been giving you information?" asked someone in perfect english, with an almost British accent and an overly formal tone. Extremely imposing.

The voice echoed inside the room. The three agents who had traveled with you in the patrol car paid attention to the exchange of words.

"Two years."

"How long have you known the girl you used as an accomplice?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. Whoever was in charge of the interrogation seemed to know everything that had happened.

It was terrifying. You hadn't seen any of your three guards exchange information with whoever was hidden in the cubicle, so you didn't understand how he knew.

"How do he know?" you whispered, frowning.

Your voice immediately distracted Yesung.

"We have access to the surveillance cameras in the area," he clarified before turning his attention back to the interrogation.

"Bring in the accomplice," said another unfamiliar voice.

You were going crazy; everything there was enigmatic. They seemed like the real criminal organization with all those voices coming out of nowhere, the cameras installed in unknown places, and the stealthy pursuit you were subjected to.

Yesung grabbed the chain connecting your handcuffs and led you to a door that, if you hadn't seen it open yourself, you wouldn't even have noticed was there, forming part of what you thought was a simple wall.

"All yours, Leeteuk."

The man nodded and the agent pushed you into the center of the room.

"Open your eyes wide," he ordered, and you obeyed in your confusion.

Leeteuk took a kind of monocle and placed it over your eye, a blue light illuminating the circumference of the lens, almost blinding you.

"Open your mouth."

You were confused, very confused. Despite the dazed state your brain was in, you obeyed.

He took a kind of metal tongue depressor and inserted it into your mouth, rotating it inside your cheeks and scraping your palate.

The device was placed in a sealable plastic bag, he wrote something on it with a blue marker, and placed it on a metal tray.

"Show me the palm of your hand."

"Someone woke up bossy," you grumbled, trying to maneuver with both hands cuffed. "Which hand do you need?"

"The one you use least often."

You placed your palm forward and he pressed a kind of silicone cushion against it.

It was all strange, and yet there you were, obeying and participating in this unusual scrutiny.

"Repeat after me: 'My voice is like the wind, it can caress or shake.'"

You suppressed a laugh by pressing your lips tightly together. It was the most absurd phrase you had heard all day.

"We don't have all day. Hurry up," he demanded sharply, sliding a kind of voice recorder across his desk.

You smiled and recited the silly words, at least what you could remember of them. Leeteuk also smiled with satisfaction, placed the recorder on the same metal tray, and then put everything in another plastic bag, which he sealed solemnly.

"Congratulations," he clapped with an expressionless face, "as part of the foreign service in our nation, you will have the honor of joining the research team."

You blinked in confusion, your eyes searching his for answers. Answers to questions you hadn't asked because you simply couldn't process what had just happened.

You placed a palm against your fingertips, signaling "time out." You waited for your brain to slow down for a couple of seconds, just long enough to understand everything.

"What foreign service is that?" was the first thing that crossed your mind, even though it wasn't exactly what you wanted to ask.

"Some embassies provide protection to their nationals through these kinds of programs, and you meet the requirements to be here."

"And those requirements are…"

You needed all the information you could get to solve your own puzzle, and you weren't going to leave until you got it.

"You committed a crime, interfered with an investigation, and, judging by the CCTV footage, you have the physical skills to join as a recruit.

You felt slightly flattered by the sudden recognition of your parkour skills. The streets of New York had trained you in that art, and finally they were being recognized by someone who, to no one's surprise, was not your parents.

"Do I have any other option but to join your team?" You raised an eyebrow, slowly realizing where this was going.

"Deportation."

"When do I begin my service to your nation, sir?" you asked in an executive tone, performing the typical two-step salute.

"In a week, when we have gathered enough information to delve deeper into the investigation. Until then, stay home and try not to draw too much attention to yourself."

You nodded. Leeteuk finally swiveled his executive chair, reached out, and opened a door that, once again, looked like an extension of the wall.

You stepped out, and the latch made an almost inaudible click.

You were on the street, one of many that crisscrossed the port city. You turned around, looking for some trace of the place you had emerged from, but found nothing unusual. Nothing seemed out of place.

If it had all been part of a dream, you would have been content to remember it when you woke up. But the wind on your face was real, and so was the rapid beating of your heart.

You ran a hand through your hair, tousling the strands even more. You searched the pockets of your coat and there was your wallet along with your cell phone. Everything was in order. Everything except your mind, which seemed to be mixing reality with one of the many detective novels Stella used to read to pass the time.

How long had they told you to wait? You couldn't remember even if your life depended on it.

You sighed loudly, let out a muffled cry, and, with your fist clenched, punched the brick wall behind you.

Nothing made sense. That early morning, which seemed like the perfect setting for a relaxing walk to the convenience store, ended up going wrong in the most unusual way possible, and now you were returning home with many questions and the only certainty that you belonged to some kind of police force on an apparent secret mission.

You looked up at the sky and prayed that Stella would take longer to return, at least long enough for you to get used to the new path that life had laid out for you.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

This request was waiting in the board for a long time, sorry for the delay but I was really drowning in work 😔, I hope you still waiting to read it till now.

Where love blooms

Fem!reader x Yesung

Synopsis: A peaceful day will turn into the best private gardening lesson Yesung could ever receive.

Warnings: Nothing at all just fluffy fluff, a silly-cute plot and maybe grammar mistakes.

w/c: 1.8k

MASTERLIST

sorry again for the full HD 4k gif

Where love blooms

The sun began to rise on the horizon, its rays emerging and illuminating the tops of the buildings that had the privilege of standing in its path.

The air flowed freely, cool, carrying the morning scent of freshly cut grass and the salty sea breeze.

The small country house that Yesung had found for you was perfect, with a large backyard where you could plant a blanket of flowers that beautifully adorned your cozy home.

When the idol was on vacation, you both took advantage of every minute of the day to be together, watching movies, cooking, composing, and creating endless memories together.

But that quiet morning didn't seem like one to stay still for so long, not when the birds were chirping outside and the sun was casting all those strange silhouettes through the leafy treetops.

You lazily walked over to the huge front window to take in the scenery while you waited patiently for the water to boil in the kettle.

The dried chamomile flowers contained in a translucent glass jar came from the field behind the house. Yesung liked their flavor, even though he was more of a coffee lover than a tea drinker.

"Are you up early?" the idol's voice broke the comfortable silence of the day.

"It's seven in the morning, you can't call that getting up early," you smiled broadly.

The singer grunted some response, something you couldn't quite hear but which still caused a slight melodic laugh to escape your throat, which elicited a smile from the idol in the middle of his yawn.

He lazily approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead on your shoulder. The warmth emanating from his body enveloped you, forcing you to sigh with pleasure at his display of affection in the morning.

"I'll go take a shower and make something for breakfast," he said as he lazily walked toward the bathroom.

"As long as breakfast doesn't consist of burnt eggs, overcooked chicken, or scrambled pasta, then count me in," you smiled teasingly.

"In that case, I'll let you do that," he threw you a kitchen towel and escaped to the shower, laughing with satisfaction at having taken you by surprise.

You shook your head, smiling and hoping that the moment would not fade with the passing of time.

Breakfast was peaceful. Quiet. Affectionate.

Yesung talked about the tour, his future plans, and how good you were at cooking. You chatted about remote work, neighborhood gossip, and the latest variety show where he had appeared as a guest.

The morning passed slowly and warmly. With a book in your hands and your body reclining on the sofa, Yesung sat with his legs together so that your head could rest on them.

Suddenly, he would absentmindedly stroke your hair, and sometimes you would shift to adjust your posture when your arms became numb from the multiple positions you adopted to read comfortably.

When the afternoon came, you stood up, took one of the heavy aprons you used to wear for gardening, and walked outside to get your tools.

The singer followed you with his gaze as you searched the tiny cellar for the scissors you used only to cut the vegetables that grew in the yard.

"Could you pass me the wicker basket?" you asked as you adjusted your cap on your head, hoping the sun wouldn't damage your skin.

Yesung scanned the room for the requested item until he finally saw it, right next to the TV. Without much haste, he picked up the basket and walked out with it hanging from his hand. He had no intention of handing it to you, not if it meant staying with you to harvest the vegetables from your tiny home garden.

As soon as he reached you, you reached out to hold the basket, but he was faster and lifted it high enough that you couldn't reach it.

You knew how this was going to end, just as he did.

You couldn't resist and played along, stretching to reach the basket, standing on your tiptoes to reach even higher.

When your face was almost level with the idol's, he leaned in to kiss you. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but a sweet, tender, slow one.

"Today I'll help you cut the vegetables," he announced, taking advantage of the distraction to snatch the scissors from your hands.

You rolled your eyes and pointed the way he should go to get to the cucumber you would use to make kimchi.

Yesung obeyed your orders step by step to make the perfect cuts. Thanks to you, he learned that harvesting wasn't just about going through life cutting stems left and right, but that there was a method for cutting them without damaging the plants, thus preventing them from drying out.

"Do you think you could help me transplant some tulips to take to your brother's café?" you asked as you crouched down to check on the zucchini.

"Will I have to dig holes all over your garden?" He raised an eyebrow as he calculated the perfect angle to cut the vegetable you were holding carefully with both hands.

"Something like that," you said, picking up the freshly cut zucchini and placing it in the basket. "It'll only be five of them; he asked me for them to decorate some tables."

"Okay, but don't blame me if any of them wilt in the process."

The moment of harvesting vegetables came to an end. The singer's face was covered with a layer of sweat and another layer of dirt that rose between the wind and their footsteps.

"It won't happen, don't worry," you playfully slapped his butt before walking back home with the basket swaying to the rhythm of your footsteps.

A gust of wind blew past where you were standing, causing the cap that protected your face to fly into the air and fall directly onto the damp ground. Yesung laughed loudly as he walked over to pick up your cap from the ground.

"Is the shovel in your little shed too?"

"It's not just a shovel," you corrected him, "it's called a garden hoe," you recited in a know-it-all tone, causing the singer to laugh again.

While you chopped the vegetables and seasoned the sauce made from oils, chili paste, fish, and blended pear, Yesung struggled in the backyard to dig up the tulips without damaging the bulbs growing underground.

The scene struck you as memorable.

He was kneeling on the damp earth, digging the hole with extreme delicacy despite having insisted that he wouldn't be careful in the process as long as he achieved his goal.

The sight your lover was giving you was one to remember forever. You removed the rubber glove from one of your hands, took your phone out of your apron, and began recording his heroic gardening efforts.

Small insults came out of his mouth as the task became more complicated, and on one occasion he staggered backward when a worm surprised him wriggling among the flowers.

His face was a complete mess, with dirt smeared across his skin, clearly showing that he had tried to clean it with the back of his hand.

The five flowers were lined up on the ground, waiting to be placed in their respective pots.

Yesung looked proudly at his unfinished work. His clothes were ruined by the dirt from working in the field, but it had been worth the sacrifice to make you happy.

"Come home with those tulips and I'll teach you how to transplant them!" you shouted from inside once you had finished recording his great feat and your hands were back to preparing the kimchi.

The idol obeyed and carried the flowers with extreme caution, taking off his shoes before entering the house and continuing on to the kitchen sink to rinse the dirt off the bulbs where the flower stems sprouted.

"Thank you very much, dear. Come here for your reward," you murmured without stopping smearing the cabbage leaves with the mixture of sauces and vegetables. "Open your mouth."

Yesung obeyed helplessly, biting into the morsel and savoring its flavor. You had done well, much better than the same dish prepared by factories to be displayed in the supermarket.

"It tastes good, but if you let me try a little more, it could go from 'good' to 'almost delicious.'"

You clicked your tongue but rolled up another piece of cabbage with all the seasonings and put it in the idol's open mouth, eliciting the unmistakable sound of a moan from his throat.

Humming a song that had been running through your mind, you placed your preparation in a glass container and put it in the refrigerator. Then you rinsed the rubber gloves, discarded the kitchen apron, and walked calmly toward the tulips that continued to drain over the sink.

Without pausing for a second, you resumed your journey toward the pots your brother-in-law had provided for you to plant the tulips.

"Before you go take a shower and eat, come finish the job you started."

Your hand picked up one of the spatulas you used for transplanting and handed it to Yesung. The idol inspected the tool with curiosity, examining every angle and stroking the wooden handle while gauging the weight of the trowel in his hands.

"This thing looks pretty worn out," he concluded after his analysis. "Do you use it a lot?"

"Too much. It's my favorite for transplanting flowers in the garden."

With one hand, you took the bag of soil from one of the drawers under the sink, and with the other, you used a plastic scoop to fill the pot with a mixture of soil, dry leaves, and the white substrate that served to nourish the bulb.

"Once we've filled the pot halfway," you explained, demonstrating the procedure slowly and deliberately, "we place the bulb in and use the spatula to cover the remaining spaces with a little more of the same soil mixture".

The idol followed your orders, allowing your hand to guide his movements, showing him the pressure needed to compact the soil without impeding root growth or bulb division once flowering was complete.

Yesung enjoyed the contact and the tone of your voice as you explained things to him as if you were a kindergarten teacher giving a lesson to her students.

His smile widened even more when you deliberately began to caress his knuckles with your fingers. Finally, he was overwhelmed when you wrapped both arms around him, pretending to continue instructing him in the art of gardening.

The idol turned his body to face you. He needed to kiss you, to caress your sweet lips with his own and make your heart beat faster.

Unfortunately for Jong Jin, the pots of tulips would take a couple more days to arrive at his café.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

The dragon who conquered the sky VI (end)

Dragon master fem!reader x Cloud controller Yesung

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | END

Theme: Celebrity-fantasy AU

Synopsis: SM's Special Forces Program had demanded the presence of its best soldiers. An idol capable of molding clouds to his convenience and you, a rockstar capable of commanding a legion of dragons needed to join forces to save your world from imminent doom.

Warnings: Description of violent events, war theme (?), written with female pronouns, slight use of "Y/N", fluff, enemies to lovers, humor, slow burn.

w/c: 4.1k

The dragon who conquered the sky VI (The end)

The portal remained open, emitting its characteristic whitish light that swirled in a spiral, like the cream on a freshly served cappuccino.

Your heart raced in anticipation of victory in battle and the unease of seeing your companion wounded. His recovery was what mattered most at that moment.

The dragon placed its frozen body over the sorceress to prevent her from moving. You descended from its back carefully, trying not to make it feel threatened by your movements and those of your mother.

Perpetual ice dragons were too sensitive and could lose control, so you were careful, overly careful when you took your mother by the hands behind her back to prevent her from doing anything foolish.

Your body was swallowed up by the portal and, when you passed through it, the practice room in the Seoul building welcomed you along with Lee Soo Man.

"You did very well―"

"Where are the boys? Yesung is still injured in Kwangya," you asked alarmed, almost pushing your mother aside so she wouldn't get in your way.

"I know," Soo Man replied calmly and peacefully. "I sent someone to treat him, and they'll be back in a few minutes."

Although he was talking to you, the agency owner's attention was focused on the sorceress who was still trying to melt the ice.

Sometimes she would pound the walls with both hands, other times it was the floor, then she would slam one hand against the other. Nothing seemed to work, and her mind was numb from the sudden loss of her abilities.

Her hands were frozen, burned by the cold. Her magic had been sealed.

"I'll take care of her," Lee Soo Man said again.

His hand squeezed your shoulder lightly to give you a little reassurance, to show you that you were alive and well.

That squeeze snapped you out of your trance, and a sharp pain shot through your arm.

The bruises and wounds had begun to hurt, and now you were aware of all the bloodstains on your dress and the fabric tied around your hand and arm.

The scrapes and bruises on your legs also hurt, to a lesser extent, but the stinging was a constant reminder of every moment of the battle.

"Hey (Y/N), you should go to the infirmary so they can help you with all those wounds," Ryeowook said worriedly, his usual sharp tone replaced by one of genuine concern.

"I'll go as soon as Yesung comes back," you replied without taking your eyes off the portal.

The singer's eyes shifted to the same spot you were looking at, his brow furrowed in obvious concern.

"How was he?"

"Wounded," you whispered with difficulty, "she pierced his side and he wouldn't let me heal him," your voice threatened to break, "at least I made him hold on a little longer."

"Thank you for winning that battle, but you should go and treat your wounds. Yesung would be upset if he saw you like this."

You smiled honestly for the first time since you had escaped from the dorms.

You never imagined you would hear Ryeowook worrying about you, but you were grateful for the little chat that had brought you back to reality.

With a sudden limp, you walked away from the portal toward the infirmary.

Your stiff muscles protested with every movement, and your wounds were evident from the blood flowing from them.

It was funny that you didn't realize how bad your condition was; you even forced a smile to replace the grimace of pain that appeared as soon as you tried to lean against the wall to keep moving forward.

It was painful. Too painful. The stabbing pains, the blood, the bruised bones, and the sore muscles. It was more than you could bear.

Suddenly, sleep began to overtake you, your eyes distorting everything as if you were moving over the waves of the sea rather than on the solid ground of a building.

With more effort than it should have taken, you leaned your back against the wall and your body gave way under its weight, sliding lazily to the floor.

Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was the constant pain, or maybe it was both causing you to collapse, but whatever the reason, it didn't matter. You needed help, and you needed it now.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay," whispered a gentle voice.

You smiled gratefully, even though you couldn't see who it was.

The sound of their voice was the last thing you heard, and the soft touch of their hands on your face was the last thing you felt. Your body couldn't take it anymore, and you finally lost consciousness.

The infirmary was a mess. The staff walked back and forth checking Yesung's vital signs and sometimes yours.

Your injuries were minor, yet you had spent two full days sleeping. On one occasion, you asked for some water and then went back to sleep.

When the third day arrived, you finally opened your eyes to gaze at the dark ceiling as the sun began to rise. The play of light and shadow reflected through the white curtain confused you.

In one swift movement, you lifted your back off the mattress and sat up straight, the sheet sliding from your chest to your lap.

Your gaze traveled around every corner of the room, noticing the other bed that was occupied and the two people sitting nearby.

Finally, you threw off the sheet and stood up. The movement was quick and violent, enough to make you stagger on your feet and have to hold onto the IV stand.

The room seemed to sway in front of you, until you closed your eyes slightly to adjust your vision.

"(Y/N)!" Heechul shouted, stopping only to avoid bumping into you. "Our little heroine who plays rock by day and saves the industry by night is alive," he joked, ruffling your hair with one hand.

The gentle touch on your head made you smile openly, and your eyes even threatened to fill with tears once the idol's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

"Don't cry, or I'll have to use my powers on you," he scolded, tapping your nose lightly with his index finger.

With great effort, you held back your emotions, hugging the idol around the waist while taking advantage of the comfortable position to lean your weight against him.

"Aren't you curious to know how Yesung is doing?"

You tried not to smile and shrugged your shoulders, feigning indifference.

All those natural movements now required a great deal of effort.

Your muscles ached with small twinges of pain that were, to a certain extent, tolerable, while your bones creaked at the slightest movement, showing that they had been at rest for longer than necessary.

"You're lying," Kyuhyun interjected with that smile that you had begun to miss at some point. "From what I can read in her mind―"

You tried to reach out to stop whatever he was about to say, but your legs were slow to respond and you stumbled forward.

The balladeer rushed over and caught you before you could fall. His arms wrapped around your waist and your body was pressed against his.

"It's fortunate that you still can't move completely," he said, leaning his weight on his legs and managing to straighten you up without you protesting.

You had never felt so weak… so useless.

"Since your mind keeps asking about Yesung," Kyuhyun resumed the conversation, "he woke up a little while ago and his side still hurts, but he seems stable, at least more so than you."

"And who asked about him?" you complained, even though the information you received had brought vitality to your face.

"We'll pretend we misinterpreted the signs," Heechul concluded, patting Kyuhyun on the back to stop him from bothering you for a moment, "but you pretend that no one told you that Yesung asked about you more than twice and barely managed to regain consciousness.

You nodded, struggling to keep your lips from forming a smile whose origin you didn't know.

Finally, you made an attempt to take a step forward, fearing you would lose your balance mid-stride, but your body seemed to want to cooperate for the first time since you woke up.

Your limbs still felt weak, but not as heavy as they had at first. Your balance wasn't the best you'd ever had, but at least you weren't staggering as if your brain was recovering from a night of heavy drinking.

Step by step, little by little, you were getting closer to the place where both idols had directed their gaze.

The slender, pale figure with brown hair soon appeared in your field of vision. Your heart stopped for a second, your breath caught in your throat, and your stomach did that strange fluttering inside as soon as he looked back at you.

Yesung raised a hand in greeting and tried to smile despite the pain of simply sitting there.

His reaction was honest, as was the feeling of relief that spread through his body at the simple sight of you walking toward him with that nervous, insecure look on your face.

He had seen you asleep on the hospital bed, had seen your body with that IV while a machine monitored the gentle beating of your heart.

"How are you feeling?" you asked with more urgency than you wanted to show.

"As if a bulldozer had run me over," he smiled. "And you?"

There were no words to describe the jumble of feelings that were crowding inside you, all intertwined, all piled up without knowing how to express them.

You moved your lips, trying to form some kind of response, but nothing came out. No sound, just the soft movement of lips without uttering a word.

You couldn't pretend and say that everything was fine when it was clearly not, but you didn't want to show weakness either.

"I'm exhausted," you finally said, "but there's still something I want to try. Lie down for a moment."

You placed your palm on the singer's wound and began to murmur your new song, the one you created and showed him, hoping for a positive reaction.

"Wait, no, this will just exhaust you more―"

His protest didn't stop you as you worked miracles on the wound. The initial pain that your power brought was replaced by the relief that your voice brought.

He never thought you would use your power to heal his wounds. All he had seen in you when you sang was how that ability could cause a certain level of damage and destruction; he never thought you would heal.

When you stopped humming, your body languished, a lazy smile formed on your lips, and your eyes began to close involuntarily.

"How did you learn to do that?"

"It was my desire to get you back," you shook your head to rephrase, "to thank you for fighting my mother."

That last sentence was almost inaudible. Finally, your eyelids closed and you fell forward. Yesung quickly stood up and held your body to lay you down on the mattress of the tiny hospital bed.

Thanks to your care, his wound was almost completely healed, and now carrying you was not as much effort as it would have been minutes ago.

His hands were gentle with you as he laid you down on the bed, covering you with white sheets and watching over you as if that were his only mission in life.

From a distance, Kyuhyun and Heechul were watching the scene, neither of them the least bit surprised because their friend's feelings had always been transparent.

With the back of his hand, he slowly caressed the soft skin of your face; his palm cradled your cheek with extreme caution, afraid of hurting you, and in an involuntary movement, he slid his thumb over the surface of your lower lip.

You were calm, your face relaxed. Anyone who saw you would not think that you had just faced such a physically and mentally complex battle.

His fingers took a stray strand of your hair and tucked it behind your ear to keep it from falling back onto your face.

With extreme caution, the singer leaned in, bringing his face close to yours, holding his breath so as not to disturb your rest, and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Couldn't you do it when she was awake?" Heechul asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I asked Hae to go snoop around in the book and bring back the spell to restore someone's energy," Kyuhyun said as if it were no big deal. "The poor thing hasn't been able to stand up since she woke up."

"Let's hope Donghae remembers something he read."

"If he doesn't, I'll force it out of his memory."

Kyuhyun placed a hand on his lead singer's shoulder and nodded to Heechul, indicating that it was time to leave.

"Yesung," the rapper called out before leaving completely, "you'd better get well soon because Lee Soo Man has approved our date to start activities around the 20th anniversary."

The singer's eyes widened with equal parts astonishment and happiness. The emotional contradiction was written all over his face, which provoked Heechul's scandalous laughter in the hallway.

The recording booth was a mess as Leeteuk tried to follow the guide track previously recorded by Yesung.

"Express Mode" was a complicated song to hit the notes it required. The last song he had rapped on was "House Party," and that had been a couple of years ago.

Changing his rap tone to the chorus of a quasi-ballad was tricky, no matter how many years of experience he had.

"The problem is that you're not in tune with the song. Get out of there if you're not going to continue recording," Shindong scolded, noticing his leader's difficulties.

"It's because my parts have to be recorded after Yesung's, and he still hasn't shown up," he replied without moving from his spot in front of the microphone.

"He finally asked to rest before the comeback, give him a couple of days before he returns to the stage," Siwon agreed.

It was true, Yesung had taken a couple of days off before recording the main song and after finishing rehearsing the choreography.

After a month of recovery and another month of preparations, recording programs and some songs, his body was exhausted, as was his mind.

Sometimes the mental exhaustion was heavier than the physical, but knowing that things were slowly returning to their rightful place brought him some relief.

From time to time, the idol wondered about you. Whether you had written any new songs, whether the lack of communication was because you were busy, or whether you had simply gone back to being your old self.

Things were simpler before his feelings were shaken, before he saw a side of you he had never imagined before. You were interesting, funny, clever, and sensitive. You were perfect.

He sighed and brought the coffee cup to his lips, sipping lightly and allowing the bitter taste of his drink to bring a little calm to his mind.

Under other circumstances, he would have asked for the drink to-go so he could take it to the recording studio, but he wasn't in the mood to tackle the main song, and therefore couldn't do it even if he put all his effort into it.

The café door swung open, causing the workers to turn toward the entrance.

Yesung also turned his head, only to see you standing there, breathing heavily but smiling with satisfaction at the sight of him.

"I found you!" you shouted, interrupting everyone's activities once again.

Inevitably, the idol's face began to turn red, starting at the base of his neck and spreading to his hairline.

He didn't expect to see you like this, nor did he believe that you would smile at him like that again, much less that you would be looking for him with the same insistence with which he wondered about you.

Yesung stood up and walked toward you. Each step seemed to happen in slow motion, each stride forcing your heart to beat faster.

His hand reached up and took yours, gently pulling you toward him and guiding you inside the café.

You had never felt so out of place, as if everything around you had blurred away, leaving you completely alone with only the singer still holding your hand for company.

Without realizing it, you were already sitting across from him, staring at him as if you wanted to memorize every feature of his face.

"What were you looking for me for?" he finally asked, after a long, comfortable silence.

"The song," you shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. "Some songs. I wrote a couple of them and I'm going to record them soon. I was wondering if you could listen to them before I get a date for my comeback."

Your request stopped his heart for a second and brought back that silly smile.

His hand rested naturally on yours, his thumb caressing your knuckles, and a sigh escaped his lips. It was an unconscious movement, a gesture that took both by surprise.

It all happened in seconds. In such a short time that you were barely aware of what had just happened.

You didn't have the courage to pull your limb away or prevent the contact. You had missed him. You had wanted to share that moment since you both left the infirmary.

"Have you been composing all this time?" the idol began with casual conversation.

"What else?" you replied as you pulled the plate with a slice of cheesecake to take a bite.

"Resting, planning your new album, missing the group, or maybe traveling abroad."

"I've missed the group these days, even the constant arguments with Ryeowook," you smiled nostalgically and took another bite of dessert. "But I think I'm better off alone."

The phrase that crossed your mind stayed there, stuck on the bridge connecting your brain to your mouth, as if the traffic of thoughts had prevented it from flowing freely.

At that moment, you wished you could remain under Siwon's power so you could blame him for your sudden honesty, so you could have an excuse to say what you really wanted to say.

"Maybe not so alone," you added against your will, "I would have preferred to be with you."

Yesung had to cough after almost choking on his coffee, while you covered your lips, regretting having let all those words slip out.

Your gaze wandered around the café until, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Siwon walking past the place, waving at you as if he had done you a favor.

The singer was still trying to get air into his lungs; your words had hit him like a physical blow.

"Then stay with me," whispered the idol, placing his hand back on yours.

No more words were needed, not when you spread your fingers apart, allowing them to intertwine with those of the idol.

That gentle exchange of touches and words, of affection and honesty, made any unspoken statements clear. Your gazes said everything your lips did not want to say.

"Would you record a song with me?" you asked timidly, as if you hadn't just made a silent declaration.

"All the songs you want."

"No fee for the collaboration?" you added amusedly.

"Don't push your luck."

Between smiles and casual conversations that had little to do with what had happened long ago, with shared battles, with concerns about an uncertain future, the two began to build a curious relationship.

Your outfit was wonderful. The leather pants clung to your body, highlighting your proportions. A black T-shirt prevented the transparency of the knitted blouse from being almost obscene, and the exaggerated makeup with smokey eyes, carmine lipstick, and rhinestone nails added the desired effect to the presentation.

Your electric guitar hung from its strap across your back, positioned at a comfortable height in front of you.

It had been a long time since you had faced an audience. Too long since the last time you had kept your powers in check so as not to unleash the chaos that your voice could bring.

A firm hand rested on your shoulder, causing you to jump.

"They're still cheering for you," Yesung pointed out, smiling at your ears. "Do you think this kind of makeup looks good on me? I don't want to look out of place and ruin the show from the very beginning."

Finally, you turned to face him, captured his chin between your thumb and index finger, and forced him to position his face at different angles.

Your eyes traveled over every feature, the almond shape of his eyes, the straight line of his eyebrows, and the high cheekbones that betrayed his attempt to suppress a smile. Finally, you forced him to look slightly downward, stood on your tiptoes, and joined your lips with his in a chaste kiss.

All your nervousness evaporated after that. The contact served as an anchor that kept you grounded and gave you the confidence to sing in front of the audience.

The lights dimmed and a short video began to play on the venue's screens as the audience cheered excitedly.

The recordings for your new album had turned out perfectly, the music video was being edited, and all those people had waited two years for you.

"Hello, everyone!" you began, raising the hand that wasn't holding the microphone to wave. "Are you ready for this new album? I know I've been away from all of you for a long time, and seeing you here fills me with excitement and nervousness."

People were reacting well. They shouted and applauded, interacting with you.

"I've prepared a surprise and a preview of the album we're working on," the echo of murmurs filled the venue with an atmosphere of anticipation, "I must speak in the plural because I've brought someone very special, someone who has been with me for the last two years."

The screams began as soon as a light came on next to you.

Yesung took a deep breath as he waited for the staff's signal to step onto the stage. Your audience was different from what he was used to; they weren't there dividing their attention between other members, nor were they expecting to see you dance. They were there to appreciate your voice, your guitar skills, and all the light shows you had accustomed them to.

A girl came up to him holding the program schedule while waiting for you to say the idol's name. As soon as you mentioned it, the audience screamed excitedly, not expecting such a collaboration.

The vocalist had made a good impression in the rock world when his covers of Wherever You Are and Chaosmyth went viral. Seeing him there, with his makeup and outfit matching yours, left them with a good impression.

"Thank you for being here today," you bowed, "you must be very busy with preparations to celebrate your twenty-year career.

"It is an honor to stand on your stage in front of your audience, I hope I can live up to expectations. Thank you for the invitation."

The overhead lights went out, you positioned your guitar in front of you, and strummed the strings to get the audience excited.

Your fingers danced frantically across the guitar as Yesung began the song with the mastery of someone who has been performing on stage his entire life.

His throat was reddening as the song progressed. You weren't far behind, the accompaniment, the chorus, the guitar, and the lights coming from the stage were driving the audience wild.

Both voices blended perfectly. The two communicated through you eyes, signaling to each other how you would approach the next verses.

At one point, Yesung moved one of his hands and a thick mist began to rise from the ground, lightly covering both of your legs.

The effect surprised the audience, the staff, and you. The union between the two of you was perfect, something that was meant to happen.

You complemented each other both on and off stage.

The song came to an end with both of you trying to hit the right note. Your breathing was heavy, you had difficulty getting air into your lungs, but both smiled contentedly amid the frenzy of the audience.

Yesung was excited, satisfied to have performed that song with you. Without thinking too much about it, he took a couple of steps to be next to you, wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and, turning his head slightly toward you, pressed his lips against yours.

The audience's screams filled the venue, as did the sound of camera shutters.

Both could be sure that you would top the search list, but that didn't matter, not when you two could finally achieve that level of rapport after so many ups and downs both had faced together.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Lavender love

Artist fem!reader x Yesung

Synopsis: A magical night filled with music, fireworks, and the soft scent of lavender will be the perfect setting for the beginning of a love story.

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, it says artist reader but is more like pianist and singer reader, written with female pronouns and... why not? grammar mistakes

w/c: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

Lavender love

The sounds of the piano filled the small stage at the lavender fair in Everland theme park. Girls dressed as princesses danced around you as they tried to move forward on their tiptoes.

Spring had made a grand return, and the amusement park had spared no expense in decorating every corner of the place.

The organized parade had drawn a large crowd as the sky filled with fireworks that bathed everything in violet, purple, and lilac lights.

Your grand piano, the beautiful reddish-colored wooden instrument, played the right melody as your fingers ran masterfully over the keys.

The sweet notes and the soft voice of the guest singer harmonized beautifully, as if you had been a duet since the beginning of your careers.

Your fingers lightly brushed the keys, evoking the first notes of "floral sense" with a delicate, almost ethereal sound.

Yesung hummed the beginning, lightly accompanying the sound of your piano. When it was time to sing, his voice came in on tempo, causing your skin to tingle.

Your lavender dress made you look wonderful, the soft chiffon fabric falling in light layers that moved gracefully with the sway of the wind, while the top was adorned with rhinestones that sparkled like stars in the sky.

Yesung wore a black three-piece suit, complemented by a boutonniere that matched the color of your dress.

The evening was magnificent. The music had everyone spellbound, and the children were enjoying the parade of carriages, princes, princesses, and floats filled with flowers.

The song reached the part where Winter was supposed to begin her performance, but the singer was not there, and you would sing her parts in the piece. Your voices were not the same, but the power of the performance would have to work wonders.

You took a deep breath to calm your pulse, brought your lips close to the microphone, and began the performance in a soft whisper.

The idol was pleasantly surprised to hear you, and in a distracted gesture, he placed his palm on your shoulder. His gentle touch almost caused your fingers to press the wrong keys, but your professionalism saved you.

Yesung turned around and sat down next to you to heighten the tension of the moment. You were face to face, singing the song as if you were confessing your feelings to each other.

In previous rehearsals, things hadn't been like this, but it was all a matter of the moment and the atmosphere that invited you to immerse yourself in a fairy-tale romance.

Your heart began to race, increasing the heat in your body. His proximity was overwhelming, and his voice caressing the skin of your cheek seemed seductive.

The song came to an end and a new series of fireworks lit up the sky. Your eyes sparkled with the intensity of those lights as your gaze was lost in the firmament.

That expression of fascination made the idol smile gently, allowing his gaze to linger on you longer than necessary to etch your features into his memory.

"The last song is Beautiful Night," Yesung whispered into the microphone, prompting the crowd to applaud as if they were at a concert and not an amusement park celebration.

The closing of the event kept everyone in suspense, trying to figure out what the organizers had prepared.

Once again, you typed a few random notes to calm the enthusiasm of those present. You needed everyone to stay calm so they could enjoy the sensory experience of the event called "the night of lavender."

When the song began, the venue started to fill with the natural scent of the purple flowers. Their fresh essence enveloped everyone as the peaceful sound of the piano and Yesung's sweet voice lulled them like a lullaby.

The evening was coming to an end, and the two of you had done an excellent job.

The platform on which you were performing the songs began to rise slowly, and the sound of the piano gradually changed to a more mechanical tone that imitated the precise pitch of a music box.

The center of the stage slowly turned, the lights focused on both of you, and the singer placed the microphone against the lectern. With a slight bow, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance with him.

It was part of the act, a staged performance to impress the audience who had paid for tickets to that show. But it felt real, so real that you could feel your trembling hands, your racing heartbeat, and the butterflies in your stomach.

It seemed as if you two were in the midst of courtship. His gazes always lingered on you longer than necessary, the looks he gave you were too sweet to ignore, and the delicacy with which he held you ―as if you might break at any moment― expressed more than any words he could utter.

His hand rested on your lower back, keeping you steady as he waltzed with you on the platform, both of you keeping time as you moved like two dolls inside a music box.

"You look beautiful," murmured the singer as he spun you around to the right, before holding you firmly again.

"Thank you. Tonight deserved it."

"Do you have plans for later?"

"None."

The choreography forced you to turn again, trapping you in his arms as you returned. Your back was pressed against his chest. His heart was pounding loudly, struggling to be heard.

Yesung placed his lips against your temple, planting a tender kiss on your skin. A gesture that lasted only a moment, but whose sensation lingered for the rest of the evening.

As the melody drew to a close, the platform slowly descended, allowing the dance to carry you back to your respective places. You in front of the piano and him sitting beside you.

The night was magical, as were the feelings the idol stirred in you.

Before it all ended, before the last note echoed in the vast silence of the night, the singer looked you straight in the eye and his gaze traveled from your eyes to your mouth.

The crowd fell silent. Everyone waited for the obvious, everyone held their breath before the performance came to an end.

His hand cradled your cheek and your eyes instinctively closed. With his thumb, he caressed the soft skin of your face, tilted your head back slightly, and caressed your lips with his.

The sensation was pleasant and unreal.

A light caress. An intimate gesture. A silent confession that elicited gasps of surprise and applause of approval from the audience, swept up in the emotions of the moment.

Perhaps for everyone else it was nothing more than a show, but for you it was the beginning of something new, the first line of a fairy tale story that was about to begin, enveloped in magic, music, and the fresh scent of lavender.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

The dragon who conquered the sky V

Dragon master fem!reader x Cloud controller Yesung

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | END

Theme: Celebrity-fantasy AU

Synopsis: SM's Special Forces Program had demanded the presence of its best soldiers. An idol capable of molding clouds to his convenience and you, a rockstar capable of commanding a legion of dragons needed to join forces to save your world from imminent doom.

Warnings: Description of violent events, war theme (?), written with female pronouns, slight use of "Y/N", fluff, enemies to lovers, humor, slow burn.

w/c: 5.8k

The dragon who conquered the sky V

The silence of your room was something you were used to. You had always found the space you needed to enjoy your solitude there, but things had slowly changed, a gradual change that had been imperceptible.

As soon as Lee Soo Man restored your powers, you didn't hesitate to climb onto the roof of the building to summon a flying dragon; any winged creature would be of help to you in that moment of desperation.

Something inside you felt unstable, your heart was beating in an unfamiliar arrhythmia, your stomach remained in a knot that refused to untie and ―for some unknown reason― your steps always led you to the front of Yesung's room.

The two of you had been successfully avoiding each other. Your practice schedules had changed drastically. You knew the singer would take the practice room at noon, so you used it at midnight.

Mealtimes were something you used to avoid, taking a plate and a glass and carrying them to your room.

The other members only spoke when necessary, as if they feared you, as if crossing your path were a death sentence.

The distant treatment was suffocating you, transforming you into someone you weren't, seeking the company you had never wanted before.

When your hands grasped the dragon's scales and it took flight, you felt tranquility settle back into you, into your inner self.

The icy wind ruffled your hair as the winged reptile soared through the skies. The familiar sensation of warmth emanating from the draconian body embraced you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

You were home. You were with your own.

The apartment you had purchased was located far from the city but close to the family temple where you had grown up.

Your lonely dwelling now felt like a real home. Four walls surrounding you, a soft bed waiting for you, and a room dedicated to musical composition. You couldn't ask for anything more.

Things were slowly returning to normal, everything falling into place to leave those days of training and combat behind.

The room in the SM building was far away, and the only thing that remained with you was the guitar in its case accompanied by the spell book. You didn't need anything else.

That's what you thought until that morning, when the sun woke you from the sweetest and most vivid dream you had ever had. It was then that the silence began to feel foreign and longing threatened to dampen your good spirits.

You never imagined you would miss Heechul's comments assuring you that Yesung and you were in love, or Kyuhyun's intrusion into your thoughts as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

It wasn't just them; there were also afternoons of practice, mornings of cleaning, and evenings of meetings to plan the attacks.

And at the center of it all was Yesung. His constant presence, his words of encouragement and scolding, the exchanges of teasing and banter.

You especially treasured the memory of the moment when you showed him your song. His reaction. His words. His smile.

Although you missed those things, they had also been the reason you had run away, because that wasn't you, because you didn't want to get used to having so many people in your life.

In the solitude of your room, no one pressured you to train, no one called you at breakfast time, much less entered your bedroom as if that space belonged to them. You were definitely better off alone.

The morning had passed without you noticing. It was time to start training.

The roof of the house was empty, all that space was just for you.

You ran, jumped, summoned some dragons, and finally practiced using daggers. Every movement measured, every strike precise.

The dragon you were training with breathed fire as if it wanted to end your life, but you knew it wouldn't. Sometimes you dodged, and other times you attacked, accompanying your movements with shouts and laughter.

When the reptile wrapped its tail around your leg and pulled it to make you fall on your back, Yesung's words echoed inside you.

He always complained about it, always got upset because you acted without a plan and let yourself be carried away by your instincts.

You covered your eyes with your arm and let out a frustrated growl. At this rate, you would end up becoming the worst version of yourself.

You stroked the little dragon that had settled on your stomach as if it were a kitten looking for a soft place to take a nap, and you let the reptile stay there for a couple more minutes, just long enough for its warmth and presence to keep you firmly in place.

When the afternoon broke with blinding sunshine and clear skies, you knew it was time to go shopping at the local market so you could eat something other than instant noodles.

What you didn't expect was for people to spot you right away. It didn't matter that you were wearing a hanfu that was far from your usual style; the merchants quickly realized who you were.

Soon, rumors spread that "the dragon of Guangxi" had returned home.

It took only two days for your photo to go viral, and speculation about a comeback after a two-year hiatus was quick to follow.

Lee Soo Man saw the news. He clearly saw your photo on the tablet resting on his desk. The mission was at risk.

Hearts2Hearts' comeback with a digital single was suddenly brought forward, with the remaining two weeks reduced to a matter of days.

Soon everyone returned to Seoul, the members of Super Junior, Riize, and WayV left their accommodations to focus on their activities.

The only one who remained was Yesung. He had a new mission and would fulfill it despite your protests and hurtful words. They were a team, and he needed you to focus on victory.

His journey to the Guangxi region was easy thanks to the return of his powers. The clouds molded themselves to his will and carried him comfortably while his mind crafted all kinds of speeches to make you come back.

Deep down, he wished his members were still there, that Kyuhyun could read your thoughts to know what was on your mind, or that Siwon could extract the whole truth from you to prevent you from evading him. But things weren't like that, and he would gain nothing from wishing for the impossible.

The rural area was vast and diverse, with people coming and going as they transported their goods. Wooden carts moved from the farming areas to what looked like a local market.

It was hard to imagine yourself in that landscape. A rock singer didn't fit in with the atmosphere of farm fields or traveling markets, yet there you were, wearing that dress that had little to do with the image you always projected.

Yesung shook his head to focus as his eyes scanned the area, looking for the place where you had been photographed.

People hindered his search, preventing his eyes from seeing anything other than themselves and agricultural products.

The search became less complicated when people began to head toward the same spot, all walking quickly and a few running.

The singer stopped on high ground as the warm wind brushed against his face. The place everyone seemed to be heading for was a kind of kiosk.

The clouds descended slowly as the idol gestured with his hands. The thick condensed vapor covered him, preventing people from noticing his presence.

Yesung waited for the perfect moment to hide behind a house so he wouldn't be discovered. The reality was that no one was paying much attention to him, not when all they wanted was to find a good spot to hear you sing.

You had agreed to do it, to give a small acoustic show performing a few songs in order to calm the rumors about a comeback and let everyone know that you were on vacation.

In the center of the kiosk, there you were, sitting on a bench holding a guitar on your lap. Your crossed legs gave your face an air of confidence, but the constant rocking of your foot betrayed your nervousness.

You had spent two years away from the stage, even further away from your hometown. To be back there, with your people, with those who had supported you from the beginning, was… overwhelming.

"Hello?" you said to check that the microphone was working.

Your voice came out of the bandstand's speakers, forcing people to turn their heads and focus their attention on you.

There was nothing like what concert producers used in organizing concerts. That improvised performance lacked pyrotechnics, lights, sound, or dancers, but it enjoyed the charm of the local audience, the affection of those who saw you grow up.

Your fingers caressed the strings, creating notes and chords. A beautiful melody was produced as your voice filled the silence.

The first song went well. It wasn't difficult to change the rhythm from rock to ballad, not when you had composed it yourself.

Yesung mingled with the crowd as he made his way through several people to get closer to you.

To him, you seemed like a completely different person. The traditional dress, your voice in the middle of a ballad, and your relaxed demeanor were the opposite of what he saw in you all the time.

His heart tightened inside his chest as if he were facing an enemy and not you. His gaze immediately changed; he wasn't watching you, he was alert, waiting for the attack to come.

The performance you were giving was pleasing everyone. The audience swayed to the rhythm of the guitar, and reddish clouds began to darken the sky.

The sudden change in lighting alarmed everyone, replacing your music with murmurs and frightened glances.

Yesung waved his hands, trying to dispel the clouds and replace them with some white cumulus and cirrus clouds, but the force that held those reddish ones resisted yielding.

"What's happening in the sky?" asked a girl's voice amid the silent commotion.

Lightning struck, causing the earth to shake with the roar of thunder that followed. The idol was alarmed, his heart racing and adrenaline surging, putting him on alert.

Alarmed, you got up from your seat and walked over to get a better look at the atmospheric phenomenon. What you saw did not please you. The red sky with purple lightning was the obvious landscape of a magical thunderstorm.

There was only one other person there who could summon the power of lightning, the same person who had taught you how to do it.

"Hurry up and evacuate," you said into the microphone. "Run to your homes, get to safety, and don't panic," you ordered as your eyes searched for somewhere to flee, somewhere that would give you a quick escape route. "Everything will be okay."

You left the microphone on the seat and picked up your guitar and its case to escape from there. Your hands tensed on the instrument, clinging to it as if it were the lifeline that would keep you afloat.

You looked around again for an escape route, but everyone was running in all directions. If you ventured to run in your hanfu, you would end up trampled in the stampede.

Another series of lightning bolts streaked across the sky, and the resulting thunder caused the crowd to scream.

The rain began to fall, first as a light drizzle and then intensifying into a storm. She was definitely behind all of this.

Lightning struck, and finally that bright light threatened to hit the kiosk. As best you could, you tried to get out of there amid the rush and confusion.

The impact never came; its force was absorbed by a purple orb that appeared out of nowhere.

You quickly turned your head, looking for the person responsible for that. Nævis was only a few feet away, her body distorted between pixels and fading lines.

"Go, fight her in Kwangya," she gasped, as if the mere act of speaking required enormous effort.

"Go? Are you talking to me and how many others? I think Soo Man forgot to recharge your battery," you replied, feeling the tension in the air.

You didn't want to confront your mother. You flatly refused to confront her, knowing that her strength was superior. The only advantage you had was the book you had carefully stored in the guitar case.

"There's no time to waste. You were trained for this."

"Two years!" you complained. "She's been training her whole life, I'm clearly at a disadvantage."

"We have no other choice. Otherwise she'll take control of everything, and we won't be able to return to the stage."

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration while the other rested on your hip. She was right, and you hated that that was the way things were.

She was against music, she had never wanted you to pursue it, she never accepted that your talent was not the same as hers, and she certainly did not tolerate your refusal to develop it.

Without giving you more time to think, the small orb expanded, enveloping you in a blinding light that seemed invisible to everyone else.

Seconds passed as you moved from your world to Kwangya. Nævis collapsed in front of you and her holographic body began to fade.

"You said we would come together. Hey Nævis, you can't abandon me like this," you knelt in front of her to move her, but she was a hologram and as such your fingers passed through her figure to touch the ground directly. "I'm not going to do it alone. I'll start writing my resignation letter and go find another company," you threatened.

A hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your arm upward, urging you to stand up.

Instinctively, you threw a low kick and pulled your arm back hard, taking advantage of the distraction.

Yesung appeared in your field of vision as he jumped backward to avoid the blow.

"She's not coming back," he murmured, looking you in the eyes. "She clearly said we had no choice but to fight."

"And how do you know?"

"I was there. I saw you singing with your guitar under the bandstand."

You opened your eyes wide as you remembered the guitar and quickly looked around for the instrument. Fortunately, there it was, dirty, splintered, and with a broken string. The case was lying on its side, intact and still closed.

With determined steps, you walked over to them and picked them up, putting the guitar in the case and slinging it over your shoulder.

"Well done, strategist. Tell me what we need to do to get out of here and return to our reality," you huffed reluctantly.

Yesung did his best to ignore your bad mood as he gathered his thoughts.

He didn't know what to do either.

He didn't know the force they were fighting against, nor did he know where they were. His mind was blank, making strategies useless at that moment.

"Have you finally run out of answers?" you pressed, accompanying your words with a mocking smile.

"Now you need someone who has to think things through a thousand times before making a decision?"

The singer was tired of your attitude, fed up with having to avoid you, of having lost all progress with you and being back at square one.

He knew very well that arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere, but with you it was always like that. There was no other way to engage in dialogue without shouting, hitting in a mist of heated discussion.

You closed your eyes and turned away so you wouldn't have to see him when you opened them. You didn't think he would remember your words, much less use them against you.

"Sometimes you're really annoying," you said irritably, "one of those colleagues whose presence is… well, annoying.

"Would you rather work alone? Come on, your family is the one causing problems, and you've already shown us that you can't deal with your mother on your own," he smiled smugly. "You know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

It was the last thing you needed to hear to let the anger flow through your veins.

Without a word, you lunged at the singer, knocking him to the ground.

As if your body weighed no more than a feather, Yesung threw you aside, causing you to fall on your back.

The agile movement took you by surprise. Had it happened at another time, your teammate would have struggled while complaining.

You didn't miss your constant fights, but there was something strange about it all. A sudden and unexpected change that made everything tense and uncomfortable.

"I'm not like her," you declared angrily, a feeling of frustration spreading through your body.

"Let's see," he put his hand in front of him and began to count one by one. "You fight about everything, you hide the truth from others, you know about spells and enchantments… I don't know, it sounds very similar to your mother's behavior."

"No, you don't understand. She's evil," you sighed, "it's her fault that my father died after teaching me to play the guitar. It's her fault that music has been eradicated in this region, it's her fault that I left here.

"What an intimate moment!" shouted a familiar voice.

Your body tensed and your hands clenched into fists as you froze. His presence had always had that effect on you.

Training based on rewards and punishments had made you fear the person you were supposed to love.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think you have something that belongs to me. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

Instinctively, you put yourself on guard, with your legs and arms ready to attack or defend. With her, you couldn't stall or buy time. She was lethal.

"I won't give you anything, that book belongs to me," you muttered through clenched teeth as you tried to think of something other than throwing yourself at her.

It wasn't going to work; hand-to-hand combat would be useless. At that moment, you wished you could have some of Yesung's calmness to come up with a plan on the fly.

"Yesung, sometimes it's not so bad to think things over a thousand times," you said, taking a few steps forward. "It's something I admire about you, and maybe I've even come to envy."

The idol didn't respond, just stared at you as if you had grown a second head.

"What she's looking for is in the guitar case," you informed him, throwing the case in his direction. You looked up to see your mother, who was floating in the sky thanks to a light-weight spell. "Protect that book with your life if necessary. I'll try to buy some time while you think of a way to defeat her."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were right," you continued, completely ignoring his words, "I'm just like her. I fight over everything, I hide the truth from you, and I know some spells."

"Don't even think about confronting her, there must be another way to avoid chaos. You don't have to do it."

"That's why I need you here. You're the one who always plans. When you come up with something, act without me. I don't think I can be of any help, but at least I won't get in the way."

Yesung opened his eyes in surprise and looked at you. It was a look that lingered on you longer than necessary, questioning your intentions and worrying about the outcome.

He was afraid of what might happen, afraid of losing you. The mere thought turned his stomach, forcing him to push the thought away.

"Be careful," was all he said.

Behind those words lay all his concern for you. All the conflicting feelings you aroused in him.

You nodded before whistling to call one of your dragons, a flying specimen that could breathe fire.

The enormity of the reptile took Yesung by surprise, knocking him off balance with its flapping wings. He didn't have time to say goodbye; by the time he reacted, you were already several meters away.

The vocalist took your guitar case and slung it over his shoulder so he wouldn't lose it. He had agreed to protect what was inside, and he would keep his word.

Yesung opened the case and took out the book to look inside. It was useless to read it since he didn't understand Chinese, but he was good at deducing things from pictures, and he would use that to come up with a plan, no matter how risky it was.

You, on the other hand, tried not to endanger the lives of the dragons that had come to your call. They all flew overhead, trying to attack the cause of the situation.

Some risked to get close enough to bite, scratch, or launch an attack, but she was fast enough to defend herself and attack.

If only she hadn't developed so much power, if only you had reported everything that had happened earlier, maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't have gone so far.

You felt responsible for that, as you always had while you were by her side.

"Why are you doing this?" you demanded of her, demanding an answer, trying to talk after avoiding it for so many years.

"Lee Soo Man took you away from me, the industry seduced your father, and they have taken care of driving away everyone I have loved."

Her voice was emotionless, as if it were a rehearsed speech she had practiced countless times, a cheap speech she could recite to anyone.

"Don't you think we all decided to walk away out of fear?"

Finally, she grimaced in disgust, showing how much your comment had bothered her.

"Are you afraid of me?" she murmured in a honeyed voice, moving closer to you and bringing her hand close to your face without taking her eyes off yours. "Honey, you should be afraid of them. You should see what they do to those they discard as if they were a product."

Her eyes conveyed a warmth that you knew she didn't possess, but she was used to deceiving people to get her way.

Her fingers caressed your cheek while one of her sharp nails pressed against your skin without cutting you. It was a warning, a threatening gesture.

You didn't move, your face remained still while your mind focused on her deceitful words.

"It hasn't happened to me, and I won't let it happen."

"It hasn't happened to you? Look at yourself, two years wasted away from the stage while they used you as a weapon. What do you think will happen next?" She finished circling around you and placed both hands on your shoulders. "He's going to throw you away!"

"In two years, I learned more than I would have learned with you."

"In that case, give me the book. You don't need it. Run so that old man can teach you everything I could never show you," she teased, taking a strand of your hair between her fingers and tossing it behind your head.

In one swift movement, you grabbed her wrist before she could leave.

She has been watching Yesung, attentive to his movements, ready to attack him when he was distracted.

"I told you, I learned a lot in these two years," you jumped off the dragon, causing her to fall with you in a nosedive.

No matter how well she controlled her body and surroundings, she was unable to move with you holding her hands, the source of her power. You were falling, but no matter how hard your body hit the ground, you clung to her.

The skirt of the hanfu clung to your legs, fluttering as you moved against the wind. You were afraid, very afraid, but your desire to end it all was bigger.

Your mother writhed, struggling to free herself from your grip until her fingernail found the skin of your hand and tore it, causing a cry of pain to escape from your throat.

The sound of raw pain alerted the idol, who watched as the villain remained suspended in the air, a few feet from touching the ground, while your body continued to fall. Instinctively, he moved one of his hands and a cloud of gas and steam enveloped you, softening the impact.

You had everything under control until that moment.

Without stopping to think, your mother caused stakes to shoot out of the ground, and with cat-like reflexes, you got up and did an acrobatic move to back away. Your legs moved skillfully, avoiding each of the sharp spikes with jumps, pirouettes, and push-ups.

The dress made the task difficult, the fabric fluttering, tangling, and getting in your way depending on the kind of movements you wanted to make.

"Get away with the book, Yesung!" you said, running toward your mother to continue buying time.

The singer did not obey; on the contrary, he stood still, placing the book inside the guitar case.

The spell she had perfected was the summoning of lightning, and he, with his clouds, could absorb it as long as he didn't make any mistakes.

"Take care of her, I need some time."

Yesung looked away from your bloody hand. Your mother took advantage of his distraction to aim a bolt of lightning in his direction.

Regretting what you were about to do, you gave the order for one of the dragons to get in the way, and the lightning ended up striking the animal.

The idol shook his head to concentrate. He couldn't be of any help if he continued to be distracted.

Quickly, Yesung opened his arms and then brought his palms together, causing a thick mist to form over the ground, obscuring everyone's view.

The singer moved quickly to reach the dragon, brought a palm to the site of the wound, and whispered a song. The scorched area began to regain its original color, and soon the reptile was able to stand up.

He wasn't completely healthy, but at least he could endure the pain to return to his herd.

"Yesung, I need help."

Lightning flashed in your direction, and the singer moved his hand to erect a wall of cloud that absorbed the impact, transforming its whitish color to gray.

You smiled with satisfaction at your new discovery, opened your palm, recited a phrase unintelligible to the singer, and struck the cloud, shooting the lightning bolt in the direction it had come from.

The attack was almost accurate; if not for her quick reflexes, it would have hit your mother's left shoulder directly.

Boiling with rage, she launched her attack. The real fight had begun.

Using one of her most basic spells, the fog dissipated, making the battlefield visible again.

Direct hits, attacks, and powers were launched at each other. The sorceress's legion of shadows gave no respite to the dragons fighting to keep those spectral beings out of your own battle.

Your hair fell in messy strands across your face, sticking to your skin thanks to the patina of sweat covering it.

Breathing became increasingly difficult, inhaling a little air amid the dust and dense mist that rose everywhere.

The hanfu was torn and burned in some areas, other pieces of fabric had been used to cover your wounds and Yesung's.

The attacks increased in power, draining your energy and that of the idol. If you continued at that pace, sooner or later you would be defeated.

With both knees on the ground, you tried to take a breath to fill your lungs, but the powerful blow of air that hit your stomach knocked you down instantly.

Yesung moved toward you, placed his hand on your abdomen, and began to sing.

"Doesn't your hair radiate light when you sing?" you murmured as the air returned to your lungs.

"One more comment like that and I'll let you die. This is taking a lot of energy, and at this rate I'll end up dying of exhaustion."

"I know a spell to restore energy. I'll need the book," you requested, looking around.

Yesung had hidden it at some point during the battle, and that had been the last straw for your mother.

"I can't give it to you now. We'll have to wait until we win this battle."

"And how are we going to do that?"

"I've been thinking―

The singer couldn't finish his sentence, as a fireball flew straight toward where both were standing.

By pure reflex, Yesung tried to block the attack with one of his clouds, but he didn't do it in time and his hands were burned.

The idol moved his hands in a new attempt to return the attack, but it didn't work. There was no smoke, not even steam.

"My power," he whispered in disbelief as he checked his hands all over.

It was as if that fire had sealed his ability.

"What's wrong, Yesung?" you asked, alarmed, noticing your friend's confusion.

The singer stroked the palms of his hands again. The skin that had once been smooth now covered in burns.

Despite the pain and shock, he managed to stand up, smiling. He had it, he had figured it out.

"Nothing important is happening," he replied, hiding both hands behind his back and smiling in your direction. "I'll distract her while I go get the book. I need you to summon an ice dragon, and then I'll tell you the rest."

"But your powers―

"This is vitally important," he interrupted, placing both hands on your shoulders. "Bring that dragon here so we can put an end to this silly battle."

Yesung ran through the thick fog, drawing the sorceress's attention with the sound of his footsteps.

The attacks didn't stop.

Lightning, fire, and wind mixed together trying to strike the idol, but he was faster. He had trained for a week without his powers, perfecting his physical abilities so he wouldn't have to rely on his power to control the clouds.

"Now I understand why Y/N is like that!" he shouted to get the enemy's attention. "It seems like the whole family has anger issues!"

She shook the ground and Yesung almost lost his balance, but he didn't stop. He needed to get to the book to distract her completely.

"Did I leave you without powers?" she boasted, descending to the ground, just a few meters away. "If you give me the book, I could give them back to you."

"Why would I need them back? I've heard that book is capable of more than just moving clouds or absorbing lightning," replied the idol, bending down to shake the dirt covering the book.

The villain's eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't understand how she hadn't seen it there; it was practically in plain sight, and she had been wasting her time in the middle of a silly battle.

Yesung saw the dragon approaching with you riding on its back out of the corner of his eye.

"If it's not your powers you want, tell me the price, and I'm willing to negotiate."

The singer smiled sympathetically, as if he were truly willing to talk with her until they reached an agreement.

"You sound like the genie in the lamp, but the evil version. As if you were going to twist any wish I might ask for in a negative way."

The dragon was close enough for your mother to hear its flapping wings in the distance.

The sorceress couldn't lose control; she had to stay one step ahead of the two of you in order to recover the book. Quickly analyzing what was most important, she turned around and stretched out her hand to shoot a ray.

Yesung moved swiftly, striking the arm that was pointing at you to deflect the attack toward the sky.

Losing her temper, she struck him in the side, digging her claws into his ribs.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you screamed his name, as if uttering it would take away all the pain he must be feeling.

The idol was exhausted, his side hurt, and yet his hand clung to his enemy's wrist. He held her there for a moment, her claws buried in his side as she struggled to free herself.

"Freeze her hands!," Yesung ordered in a harsh voice, a grimace of pain reflected on his face.

You didn't hesitate and instructed the perpetual ice dragon to do so. Your mother's limbs began to go numb as ice crystals invaded her hands, preventing her from moving them.

She stood petrified, watching the action. She tried to thaw them with a spell, but it was useless. The magic had been sealed.

"They say that ice burns are often more dangerous than those caused by fire," whispered Yesung before falling to his knees due to loss of energy. "Y/N, take her to the portal and call the boys. I'll wait here."

"Wait a second, I'll look for the spell to heal you. I know it's around here," you replied desperately as you jumped down from the dragon in a single bound.

"You said you knew one to restore energy. Use it on yourself and do as I say, I'll hold out."

"Don't be a fool!"

Yesung smiled sincerely, a broad smile that covered half his face.

"Coming from you, that must be a compliment."

Without answering, you placed a hand on his wound and murmured a series of phrases in Chinese, completely ignoring your mother, who was trying desperately to break the ice.

The singer coughed loudly and air filled his lungs again.

"It's a resistance spell," you explained, "it will stop the bleeding for a moment. I hope it's enough for the guys to come get you."

Yesung nodded and with a gesture of his hand ordered you to leave.

You mounted the dragon again, ordered it to take your mother in its claws, and the three of you flew away in a hurry toward the SM Entertainment headquarters, right where Shindong was supposed to have reestablished the portal.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too

[fictionsoul]

Hi! I enjoy your writings, you're great! Can I request a Kyuhyun friends to lovers drabble? I don't have anything specific in my mind i just thought it would be cute with your imagination <3

This is my first time writing a fic for another member that isn't Yesung. Tbh I was tempted to decline the request 😅 but then the idea came out and ended being something I can say isn't as bad as I thought at first 😅. Being said, I hope you enjoy this 🙇🏻‍♀️

A yes or no

Chef fem!reader x Kyuhyun

Synopsis: One sees it as a relationship from many years ago, while the other sees it as a simple friendship. Who is right?

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, friends-to-lovers plot, reader is a little oblivious, Lee Da Hee as a special guest, use of "Y/N", written with female pronouns and with a pinch of possible grammar mistakes.

w/c: 2.2k

MASTERLIST

A yes or no

It was the middle of winter, it was nighttime, and it was supposed to be cold.

The work in the restaurant threatened to break your back in half.

You were supposed to be a chef, a very capable one, a famous one specializing in creating desserts.

But for the moment, you could hide your title and stand behind the stoves while you prepared a sea bass with fine herbs.

The heat was suffocating and the hustle and bustle deafening.

The clanging of pots, the sounds of pans searing meat, and the constant clinking of cutlery drowned out any other sounds outside the kitchen.

You were in charge of everything, keeping order and delivering results. You were like an orchestra conductor waving his baton. But now there was no time and they were short-staffed.

You placed the fish on a cutting board and coated it with butter and aromatic herbs while you burned some cubes of butter in a frying pan.

Even though your career had taken a different turn, you never forgot the basic techniques. Your seafood teacher could be proud of you.

"Table eight wants carrot soup as a starter!" shouted one of the waiters who had just come in to take another order.

"Answer me!" you shouted to make yourself heard.

"Got it, coming right up!" shouted one of the newbies, and everyone laughed.

The work environment was worth it all. There was no shortage of jokes, comments meant solely to annoy, or stories shared in search of good advice.

Sometimes the stress was bearable thanks to the cooks.

"We have the boyfriend waiting out front," a waitress reported, placing a couple of slices of cake on her serving tray. "He's been there for ten minutes."

Exaggerated whistles and gasps were heard in the kitchen, followed by the laughter of those who knew you perfectly well.

"He's not my boyfriend," you pointed out, as was your routine. "I've known him since we were old enough to make mud pies but not old enough to avoid eating them."

"I said the same thing about my wife, and now we're expecting our second baby," said the assistant, who continued peeling vegetables as if that were his only job.

Everyone laughed again, and you could only give him a challenging look accompanied by an amused smile.

"That's not our situation," you added as you placed the fish in the oven to cook. "This is the sea bass they ordered. Someone else take care of it because I have things to attend to."

Your cooks gave you mischievous smiles as they made all kinds of teasing comments. "Does he get angry if you make him wait too long?" "Use protection." "Send your location so we know he took you straight home." These were some of the many phrases that came out of their mouths.

You ignored them all as you prepared to end your shift. You didn't want to keep your friend waiting outside, not when you had agreed to accompany him to the premiere of a musical he had been talking about for weeks.

The night wind made you shiver as soon as you stepped outside. You had completely forgotten that the warmth of the kitchen couldn't follow you everywhere.

Kyuhyun laughed when he saw your reaction and just as you turned to scold him, he threw a snowball at you that landed on your head.

The pieces of ice fell on your shoulders, wetting the thin fabric of your blouse.

"It's the first time I've worn it!" you complained, pouting.

Anyone who didn't know you could have sworn that you were dating the idol and that this was just a silly fight between a couple in love.

You bent down to grab a handful of snow and threw it at the balladeer, but the wind blew every snowflake back in your direction.

Kyuhyun laughed again, clearly mocking you.

It seemed impossible to him that you were the chef in charge of that establishment. You were naturally clumsy and childish; it was a miracle that you hadn't burned the kitchen down.

"Get in the car, we're running late thanks to someone who didn't leave work on time."

Despite his words, there were always those tender looks, those mischievous smiles and the sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle that could light up even the darkest of your days.

"Since you've already proven that you woke up clumsier than usual today, here," the singer reached into the back seat and handed you a white coat, "I brought it from your house."

It was those gestures that caused everyone to misinterpret your relationship, or perhaps it was those misunderstandings that encouraged him to be that way.

Kyuhyun lived to annoy you; embarrassing you was his mission in life. But he also had nice gestures that made up for the harm he caused.

Like when he picked you up from work or got you a coat so you wouldn't be cold, or when he opened the car door for you or made you walk on the inside of the sidewalk.

"Why did we postpone game night to come see a musical?" you asked, tapping your chin with your index finger.

"Because Lee Da Hee is the lead actress, and I promised her I'd be here. Plus, I like this writer's work," he told you as he looked for a place to park the car.

Suddenly, something in your chest hurt as if you had an annoying splinter rubbing against the inside, right at the level of your heart.

The uncomfortable feeling lingered longer than expected, forcing you to retreat into your thoughts so that they wouldn't wander to the memory of Lee Da Hee and Kyuhyun as panelists on multiple seasons of "Single's Inferno."

"I thought you wanted to change your routine," you sighed, stretching your arms to get rid of the muscle pain after spending so many hours cooking.

Kyuhyun detected something strange in your voice, a feeling he hadn't noticed in years, and judging by the discreet pout forming on your lips, he would say you were jealous.

The singer smiled with satisfaction and opened the door for you to help you out. You were on time, arriving several minutes early, enough to allow Kyuhyun to go and greet the actors and actresses.

The dressing rooms looked elegant. Everything neatly arranged, the costumes hanging on hooks with the actors' names and corresponding scenes written on their covers.

Amidst all the chaos of the staff, Lee Da Hee remained stoic while a girl touched up her makeup.

The actress captured your attention just by standing there; there was no need to move, let alone speak. She was the center of attention.

You were sure she was a professional, a mature woman who probably didn't smell like meat and spices after work.

Kyuhyun placed a hand on your lower back and guided you toward her to make the introductions. His warm touch gave you a little confidence, a dash of courage so you wouldn't feel small in front of her.

"Da Hee," he called to the actress.

As soon as she saw you, her eyes smiled and your stomach twisted inside.

"Kyuhyun, you brought your girlfriend."

"No," you replied quickly, alarmed.

"Yes," he replied at the same time.

"What!?" the three of you shouted, confused.

The play began, and neither Kyuhyun nor you were paying attention to the story.

All you could think about were the many times the singer had shown his affection for you.

All those moments when your coworkers had teased you about your relationship kept playing over and over in your mind.

How had Kyuhyun come to the conclusion that you had gone from being friends to lovers? You didn't know; you were completely unaware of the answer to that question.

It was impossible not to notice the way he looked at you, the times he hugged you longer than usual, or how he said your name with excessive sweetness, put up with your silly teasing and laughed at your comments when they weren't that funny.

Your body was restless, you needed to talk to him, but a theater was the least appropriate place for it.

With your fingers fidgeting on your lap, you shifted in your seat for the umpteenth time.

"Kyuhyun, we need to talk," you whispered, tugging lightly on his coat to get his attention.

Your touch made him jump in his seat.

His heart began to beat as if it wanted to jump out of his chest, his fingers clung to the armrest of the seat, and the air caught in his throat.

The truth was that he couldn't concentrate, not when you denied the relationship you both had. To him, it was clear that you two were a couple.

"Let's talk after the play is over."

Your eyes stared at him as if you had seen a flying pig in the sky. He had never used that tone of voice with you before, never spoken to you so seriously. You had never felt him so... distant.

You crossed your arms, fixed your gaze ahead, and your mind wandered away as you thought of the countless insults and adjectives you could use to describe his behavior.

It wasn't your fault that you both lived in the midst of a misunderstanding.

Perhaps you had been oblivious of his emotions, just maybe too blind to notice that everything he did was intentional and not just because "that was his personality."

Once everyone gave the actors and actresses a standing ovation, your pulse quickened, knowing that the countdown to the awkward little chat with Kyuhyun had begun.

You weren't sure what you wanted to get out of it, maybe a confession, maybe looking like a fool for the third time that day. At that point, anything could happen.

People began making their way toward the theater exit, all commenting on how incredible the musical numbers had been and how well everyone had performed their roles. You had no idea what had happened during all that time.

Kyuhyun's hand took yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he carefully guided you so you wouldn't trip. Despite the annoyance and discomfort, there he was, taking care of you. Protecting you.

The winter cold made you shiver, perhaps the underlying nerves helped in the process, but despite the confusion of the moment, you decided to confront him.

"Kyuhyun, I wanted to―

"I like you," he confessed over your words.

As soon as the words left his lips, the tension he had felt inside the theater vanished. It was like being released from the stranglehold of an invisible hand.

"I really like you Y/N. Now tell me whatever it was you were going to say. I needed to let you know once and for all."

You blinked several times in confusion, the speech you had devised in the midst of spontaneity had vanished.

The confession had come like a bucket of cold water.

Anything you could say would fall short compared to the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" you finally demanded.

When things weren't going well, resorting to annoyance had always been your best option.

"I did it, I shouted it inside your kitchen and everyone laughed because you ignored me."

"Didn't it occur to you to insist?"

"Your cooks told you. They delivered the message and you didn't deny it."

"I didn't accept it either," you grumbled.

It was an endless battle, an argument that would never come to an end.

You couldn't tell him that all this time you had been believing that your colleagues' comments were unfounded mockery.

"And now? Are you going to continue ignoring my feelings?"

You swallowed hard, inhaled with difficulty and parted your lips waiting to give some coherent response, but no sound came out.

Kyuhyun smiled when he saw your reaction.

You just wanted to make a hole in the snow to hide in.

"Come on, chef, I need a quick answer."

"I like you too." The phrase disappeared into the air like a soft sigh.

It hadn't been audible to anyone, and you weren't even sure you had actually said it.

Your cheeks flushed and you closed your eyes as if that would lessen the impact of your words.

"I like you too," you admitted aloud.

The singer smiled and pinched your cheek harder than necessary.

"In case you thought it was a dream."

He laughed again and this time hugged you tightly, as if letting go would make you disappear from the face of the earth.

Smiling, you rested your cheek against his chest allowing the warmth of his body to envelop you. Letting the calm sound of his heart relax the pounding of yours.

You were where you had always been. You were with Kyuhyun, surrounded by his arms, his care, and his affection. As it should be. As it had been until now.

The balladeer rested his chin on top of your head, inhaled, and what he first noticed was the spicy scent of your hair.

A laugh bubbled up in his chest and escaped through his mouth.

"Poor man sitting next to you, you must have made him hungry."

"What are you talking about?"

The confusion in your voice was evident.

Finally, you interrupted the moment by putting some distance between the two of you, waiting for him to explain the origin of his comment.

"Your hair smells like food," he managed to say before laughing again.

Your eyes narrowed before you punched him on the arm.

He wouldn't change, no matter how much he confessed his love for you. You were sure he wouldn't stop teasing you.

A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).

If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too