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[minniesfiles]

BLOOM WITH YOU | month 3

After years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, light smut

❧ WARNINGS; none

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.6k

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series masterlist │ masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▎19 MARCH 2026

You were fourteen weeks pregnant, officially in your second trimester, and while part of you was relieved to be over the worst of the morning sickness, the rest of you was still adjusting to the constant weirdness that came with carrying another human inside your body.

The nausea was gone, for the most part, but fatigue still hit in waves, and now your belly started to ache on one side like it was being stretched from the inside out. Dr. Jung explained it all, of course. It was nothing serious, just your womb expanding to make room. Totally normal. Still, she scheduled you for regular check-ups just to be safe, which helped settle your nerves.

It wasn’t your nerves that needed settling though. It was your husband.

Wonwoo couldn’t seem to take “normal” at face value. If you so much as sighed too loudly or shifted your weight a little awkwardly, his head would whip around like a guard dog. His concern was constant and intense. And while it was all sweet, it was also sometimes infuriating. Any flicker of discomfort on your face and he’d have Dr. Jung’s number half-dialed. You had to confiscate his phone once. Literally take it out of his hands and remind him that expanding uteruses and occasional headaches weren’t reasons to panic.

Still, he wouldn’t ease up.

You had to admit though, he was trying. He read all the articles and watched the videos. He’d ask you how you were feeling roughly six-hundred times a day. His protective instinct was strong, but sometimes it was bordering on ridiculous. Especially tonight.

It was a chill and quiet Sunday night. You had one goal, and that was to simply curl up on the sofa with your husband and zone out for a while. It was plain and low -effort. You even picked a movie that didn’t require too much thinking. But apparently, Wonwoo had other plans.

He turned the living room into what looked like a maternity ward mixed with a snack bar. He made popcorn — three kinds, just in case you changed your mind because he was hyper aware of the pregnancy cravings you were going through lately. He blended a strawberry smoothie, wiped the blender twice, and then made another one because he thought it wasn’t cold enough. He arranged pillows like he was building a fort around you. Checked the temperature. Adjusted the lights. Pulled out a heating pad. Checked the temperature again.

“Can you stop buzzing around like an annoying fly and sit down already? The movie is about to start,” you said sharply despite the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You couldn’t help it. He was too much, but he was doing it for you.

Wonwoo froze mid-step like you zapped him. He blinked, then gave you that half-guilty, half-defensive look he always did when he got caught being extra. You watched as he did a mental checklist of anything he might have forgotten before finally giving up.

“Okay, okay, I’m done now,” he mumbled, shuffling over and flopping beside you with a dramatic sigh.

You rolled your eyes as you shifted closer and rested your head lightly on his shoulder. Of course, he wasn’t really done. His arm immediately reached behind to adjust the pillow behind your back, and he gently tugged the blanket higher up your legs.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” he said, puffing his cheeks in a pout. “This is a two and a half hour movie. That’s a long time to sit if your back hurts.”

You sighed, couldn’t help but feel your heart melting a little.

“I know,” you whispered with a soft tone. “But you don’t have to go overboard. Just being here with me is enough.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. His one hand cradled the side of your face with gentleness that he’d been showering you with for months.

“I love you, you hormonal gremlin,” he said softly against your lips, earning himself a playful shove.

And finally, you hit play on the movie.

But halfway through the movie, you shifted uncomfortably. You hoped the position change would ease the pressure building in your side, but instead of relief, a sharp wave of pain bloomed across your lower belly, making you suck in a breath and let out a low groan.

Wonwoo immediately snapped his head towards you, where you were leaning against his chest just moments ago. His arm had been draped lazily around your shoulder and the rhythm of his breathing was calm, until that sound left your lips.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in slight panic as he sat up straighter and his hand flying to your shoulder. His eyes darted over you like he was trying to spot the source of pain.

You tried to sit up, pushing off him with one hand, but the movement made the ache worse. It felt like something was pulling inside you and stretching past its limits. You winced and called your eyes shut. You instinctively reached for Wonwoo’s arm as your fingers dug into his skin.

“Hey,” he called out, immediately helping you upright, but he made sure he was slow and careful. “Honey, is it hurting again? Should I call Dr. Jung?” he asked, hands cupping your face.

You shook your head gently, trying to calm both him and yourself. “No, don’t call her. I’m fine,” you breathed out. The words sounded more stable than you felt. You leaned back against the sofa with one hand instinctively travelling down to your belly and rubbing it in slow, firm circles.

Wonwoo hovered beside you while chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. You could see how badly he wanted to fix it and to ease the discomfort in any way he could, but there was nothing for him to do except be there.

And honestly, that was enough.

Every day, he tried. Whether it was offering water, googling symptoms until his eyes hurt, or fussing over how cold the floors were. He tried. And though sometimes it was overwhelming, you knew it came from love. From fear and from his desire to protect something he had no control over.

“Come here,” he murmured suddenly, gently pulling you toward him again. This time he adjusted so that your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped the blanket over both your feet and let his arms fold around you protectively.

His hand found your belly again where he rested it over the spot that was causing you so much discomfort. The bump had become noticeably rounder the past week. Fourteen weeks in, it was no longer something you could hide under baggy sweaters. You could both feel it now, and it made things feel real in a whole new way.

Wonwoo’s fingertips moved carefully over the curve, tracing the outline affectionately. You could feel the awe in his breath as it ghosted along the side of your neck.

He knew your body was going through things he couldn’t even imagine. Hormones, aches, pain, fear, joy — all colliding every single day. And as exciting as it was to see your body change, to know his baby was growing inside you, it also made him feel powerless sometimes. He couldn’t carry the burden with you, only witness it.

“Does it hurt here?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear as his fingers slowly rubbed the left side of your belly in soft, circular motions.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed as your hand slid over his and held it in place. The warmth of his palm eased the tension in your muscles a bit. Not because it healed the pain, but because it reminded you that you weren’t going through this alone.

He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your cheek that lingered just long enough to send a flutter through your chest. His hand never stopped its slow, gentle motions over your belly, it was so soothing and almost hypnotic. You smiled softly as you felt your entire body beginning to relax into him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, which was barely loud enough to hear over the movie’s background score.

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, his brow creasing as he looked down at you with confusion. “Why are you saying thank you?” he asked. “You know I’d do this for hours if you wanted me to.”

“I know,” you murmured, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “It’s just that…you do so much for me.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Baby, I’d do anything and everything for you. Because I love you. And our baby.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. You turned slightly to face him better, resting your hand on top of his where it still rubbed slow circles across your belly. Your eyes shimmered with tears from the overwhelming gratitude and love.

“I love you too,” you said.

He leaned in again, brushing his lips against your temple as he held you like something precious. The two of you then settled into a comfortable silence. Wonwoo’s palm continued its gentle movement over your bump, while his thumb occasionally swept back and forth in soothing arcs.

“I read that the baby is the size of an apple now” he spoke up again.

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I can’t believe how much they’re growing already,” you replied, hand still resting over your belly.

“From a poppy seed to an apple in just weeks. It’s kind of magical, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. It really is,” you whispered, your smile lingering as you sat in his arms, feeling safe and loved.

a/n; finally an update🥹

[minniesfiles]

Hiiii , hope you have a good day/ night💙

can you write the 3rd month of the series ( bloom with you) ? no rush!!!! Take your time 🩵

you can write it if you are comfortable no rush 😽

ngl i completely forgot about this series😭 but I will be writing the next chapter soon!

[minniesfiles]

I’m such a sucker for angst that when I’m writing these stories for the Silent Treatment series they’re just very dramatic and ANGSTY😭but I swear they’re just as soft and and full of fluff

[minniesfiles]

currently writing vernon’s piece for the Silent Treatment series, be prepared with tissues…

[minniesfiles]

I’M IN KOREA RIGHT NOW BUT I’MIN BUSAN AND WON’T BE THERE FOR THE SVT BRIDGE PERFORMANCE OR THE 10TH ANNIVERSARY EVENT💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

[minniesfiles]

hi i’m the first anon who said something about using the read-more function (the last message that came in was not me) but essentially if you post fics or long text posts (+700 words) to tumblr it’s highly recommended to put a read-more or continue-reading break. (i’d say there’s simple explanations/tutorials for it if you just google it, but you’ve already used it on the post you uploaded on may 1, which is great!) there’s also a couple fics on your profile that have like 4k words and don’t have the read-more break. it can be a bit tedious to have to scroll for pretty long if you want to go to the next thing on your dash. that’s all i was tryong to say, not sure why the other anon was rude about it

Thank you for a kinder response! I wasn’t aware of all this before but after testing out features and googling I now know how to do it, and I will be adding the ‘continue reading’ break for the rest of my fics :)

[minniesfiles]

Learn to use the read more function or your fics are going to continue to be reported

Damn bitch I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to with that tone in my ask inbox but I’d appreciate if you’d just say it to me in a nicer way lol? I’m new to tumblr and only come here to post my fic and then dip. This is the first time I’ve heard of the ‘read more’ function

If I’m not doing something right on Tumblr I appreciate people to at least be NICE about it and perhaps tell me how to do it too🙂👍🏽 thanks

[minniesfiles]

on writers block😮‍💨please recommend ideas/prompts for the next member for my Silent Treatment series

[minniesfiles]

love ur work. begging u to use a read-more after a certain amount of words though

huh

[minniesfiles]

just want to point out that for my Silent Treatment series, I’m updating by random members instead of going down the list in order ~

[minniesfiles]

A THOUSAND SORRIES

Your phone died without you realising it while at your high school reunion party. So when your best friend requested an old classmate to drop you home, you didn’t realise how much it would shake your relationship with your husband, who you swore would’ve never doubted your loyalty.

❧ PAIRING; seungcheol x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, arguing, swearing, crying, seungcheol is a little bit of an asshole, hurt with a lot of comforting, maybe a little overdramatic, fluff

❧ WORDCOUNT; 8.7k

[ part of the Silent Treatment series ]

𐚁₊⊹

▍7 MAY 2024

“Shit, it’s almost one,” you muttered, eyes slightly wide as the glowing red digits on the wall clock stared back at you.

You were still perched on the velvet sofa at the back of the club, your head buzzing slightly from a mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Everyone around you was still laughing. Some sloppily dancing and others in tight huddles catching up over half-spilled drinks.

The night completely ran away from you. You and your friends had gotten too caught up in celebrating your high school reunion, hosted by one of your classmates who now owned the club, to notice how late it had gotten. And more importantly, you were too distracted to notice that your phone died — nearly two hours ago.

You closed your eyes and mentally kicked yourself. Who leaves the house with only fifty-percent battery? You, apparently. And it would’ve been fine — if Sujin didn’t insist on hijacking your phone for photos all night. “Your camera’s way better,” she said as she snapped an infinite amount of blurry selfies and group shots.

If you had that last five-percent, you could’ve booked a taxi by now, or at least texted your husband to let him know you were alive and not passed out in a gutter. But nope. You handed over your lifeline in exchange for better lighting and wider angles.

Still, you had to admit, the night was worth it. Ten years. That was how long it had been since you last saw these faces. Physically, some had changed beyond recognition, but there were moments where their seventeen-year-old selves peeked through. The way Beomseok, the school’s heartthrob, still threw his head back when he laughed. Or how Soyoung, the well-known bookworm, always over-explained her stories like she was giving a TED Talk.

Even the ones you never really liked, like that one girl who always made everything about her, brought a strange and unexpected wave of kindliness. Maybe it was the nostalgia. Maybe it was the drinks. Either way, you didn’t feel the irritation you used to. Just a weird fondness.

You let your mind drift back through the night — from the ridiculous dance-offs to the messy karaoke renditions of songs you didn’t hear in over five years. It was like slipping into a familiar old sweater, frayed in places but still comforting.

But now, reality knocked you back in your senses. You promised your Seungcheol you’d be home before midnight. He wasn’t the jealous type, but you knew he worried. And with your phone dead, no cash on hand, and no clue where your friends had scattered off to, you were stuck.

You scanned the club again, hoping to spot Sujin, maybe even your other friends at the very least. But nothing. Just bodies moving to the beat of some remix you didn’t recognise. You sat back and exhaled. You really didn’t know how you were getting home.

Sooner or later, you finally spotted Sujin over by the cocktail bar, half-laughing at something the bartender said as she swayed in rhythm to the music. The moment you saw her, relief washed over you like cold water, and you made your way towards her.

“Sujin,” you said, tapping her shoulder gently.

She turned around, a little startled. Her brow furrowed as she tried to hear you over the music. “Yeah?” she responded, a bit breathless.

You leaned in close, trying not to yell. “Do you know anyone who can drop me home? My phone’s dead and it’s getting really late. Seungcheol is probably losing it right now.”

Sujin’s expression shifted. She bit her lip and looked around as her eyes scanned the crowd of familiar strangers. “Ahh…” she muttered, her voice trailing off as she thought.

You could almost see the gears turning in her head. Then suddenly, her eyes widened. Her face lit up like someone just handed her the perfect answer.

“Minseok can drop you home!” she said, turning back to look at you.

“You know him, right?”

Of course you did. All too well. Minseok was your seatmate in physics back in your final year of high school. He was an astrology-obsessed nerd with a mop of hair always falling into his eyes and an inexplicable knack for blurting out random facts that you never asked for.

He once told you Mercury was in retrograde as you were about to fail a quiz, as if that was somehow helpful. Another time, he whispered a breakdown of Saturn’s rings during a fire drill. It wasn’t that he was mean, he was just…a lot. A walking trivia machine with no off switch. As harsh as it sounded, you didn’t miss him — not even a little.

“Seriously?” you said, half-horrified, half-resigned.

Sujin shrugged. “He’s sober. He came alone. And he’s not drinking, he’s literally sipping soda with lime like it’s a martini. He’s the safest bet.”

You groaned internally. Out of all the people, it had to be Minseok. You weren’t in the mood for a ride filled with awkward silence or worse — cosmic lectures about Venus retrogrades and your ‘energy aura’.

But desperate times, right?

Before you could protest, Sujin was already waving him over. “Hey, Minseok!” she called out.

You turned your head slowly, catching sight of him as he made his way through the crowd. He looked different, older obviously, but still very much him. His posture was straighter. His hair was neater, and he was dressed well in a simple button-up and dark jeans. Somehow, seeing him walk towards you didn’t feel quite as dreadful as you’d expected.

“Y/n! Hey, how are you?” Minseok greeted with a warm smile. You blinked in surprise. Not just at how relaxed he looked, but at his voice. It was deeper than you remembered. Smooth, even. Less nasal and less grating. Tolerable. Maybe even nice.

“I’m good. How about you?” you asked, offering a faint, polite smile. “I see you don’t wear your glasses anymore.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Ahh, I gave up on them and switched to contact lenses. It was a life changer,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“I see,” you said with a slight nod, unsure what else to add.

Before the silence could settle, Sujin jumped in. “So, Y/n needs a ride home. Can you drop her?”

“If you don’t mind,” you added quickly, almost reflexively. You didn’t want to sound like you were expecting anything.

Minseok didn’t hesitate. “Of course not! Let’s go,” he said, tilting his head toward the exit with a smile.

Your shoulders dropped as the tension left you in a soft breath. “Oh thank god,” you muttered, offering a more genuine smile in return.

You followed him out into the night where his car was parked a few yards away. Once inside, you gave him your address and he nodded before pulling smoothly onto the road.

The car ride was awkward, undeniably, but the soft music playing in the background drowned out most of it. He tried to make small conversations with you, only for you to give back short answers to avoid the awkwardness from growing. And he seemed to catch on to that, and decided no to press on too much.

╴╴╴╴╴

A few minutes later, Minseok pulled up outside your home. The street was quiet and dimly lit by the streetlamp. The neighborhood had long settled into silence — everyone asleep in their cosy homes.

You stepped out of the car and pulled your coat tighter around you as the cold air bit through the thin fabric. You turned back towards the driver’s side and leaned in slightly.

“Thank you so much Minseok. I really owe you,” you thanked him sincerely.

He gave you a small smile with his hands still on the steering wheel. “It’s okay Y/n,” he said softly, then added a chuckle. “It was nice seeing you after all these years.”

“You too,” you replied, returning the smile. You both waved each other a last goodbye before he drove off.

Turning to your house, you saw that the porch light was on. So were the lights in the living room. No surprise. Seungcheol was still awake.

As you stepped inside and started to kick off your shoes, you heard your husband’s voice hit you like a slap to the face. “Do you know what the fucking time is?” Seungcheol snapped from the hallway.

You froze mid-movement, caught off guard by the sheer aggression in his voice. You flinched while your hands were still on your laces. The look on his face was enough to stop you cold.

Rage was plastered across his face. His jaw was clenched so tight you saw the veins popping on his neck. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, like he hadn’t blinked in an hour. He stood there in his grey sweatpants and worn-out hoodie, but nothing about him looked relaxed. He was a coil pulled too tight.

Seungcheol never cursed, rarely even raised his voice. He always tried to stay calm and level-headed. So to see him like this, it threw you off.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said as you inched closer. Your voice was shaky, but your instinct told you to close the distance. You wanted to calm him, to hug the anger away.

When you reached for him, Seuncheol stepped back and shoved your arms off gently, but firmly. That simple gesture was enough to make your chest tighten.

“And why weren’t you answering my calls or texts, huh? Do you know how fucking worried I was?” his voice rose.

You flinched at the harshness in his tone, and your shoulders curled in slightly as if to shield yourself. “My phone died,” you said softly. The words tasted pathetic the moment they left your lips, because you knew it was a poor of an excuse to explain yourself.

“That’s it?” he snapped.

“Your phone died? Then you could’ve borrowed someone else’s! You could’ve taken two damn seconds to call me and let me know you were alive Y/n!”

You blinked, caught off guard by the volume of his voice.

You could have called. But it didn’t even cross your mind. You were too distracted. You weren’t ignoring him. It just didn’t feel urgent. Until now.

But how could you say that without sounding selfish?

You didn’t say anything. You just stood there quietly, hollowed out by guilt. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes stinging with tears. You could feel it. You could feel your throat tightening, and that familiar ache building just behind your eyes.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m home now.”

You reached for his hand. This time, not out of instinct, but desperation. You needed to hold onto something.

But he pulled away.

That was the moment something inside you cracked.

“Who was that guy who dropped you home, huh?” he suddenly questioned.

You froze.

Of all the things he could have said, this wasn’t what you expected. The question didn’t match the man you knew. The man who never batted an eye when someone flirted with you. The man who used to laugh it off and pull you closer like he had nothing to prove. Jealousy had never been in his nature. At least, not until now.

Your eyes narrowed as you studied him. He just looked at you, waiting.

You frowned, feeling something inside you start to burn. You would’ve answered him directly, but the fact that he even asked, it flipped a switch in you. A part of you that stayed patient through his yelling had enough.

“What do you mean?” you asked flatly. You weren’t playing dumb. You genuinely wanted to know — why that was even his question. Of everything that happened tonight, this was what stuck with him?

“That guy,” he said again, slower this time, as if you were the one not understanding. “The one whose car you got out of. Who was he?”

Clearly he saw you. But you weren’t surprised.

You blinked at him in disbelief, followed by a humorless laugh that slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

The laughter died as quickly as it came. “Seungcheol? What are you trying to say? That I fucked him?”

You knew you were being dramatic, but the sting of it, the audacity of his doubt, made your heart sink. You just spent the last ten minutes apologising for something that wasn’t even completely your fault.

“That’s not what I meant!” Seungcheol quickly defended. But there was a small hint of guilt in his eyes. Like he knew he went too far but didn’t know how to walk it back.

“Then what did you mean, huh?” your voice cracked now, finally matching his in volume. “You tell me what you’re implying!”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it. A beat passed between you. A silence filled with things neither of you were willing to say out loud.

“I saw you,” he finally said. “You were smiling. You looked so…comfortable with him.”

Sure you were grateful for Minseok for giving you a ride home, but being comfortable with him was the last thing you felt. So you could not believe how ridiculous he sounded right now.

“So what?” you stared at him.

When he had no answer to give you, you took a breath in to steady yourself.

“First of all, he’s not a stranger,” you said.

“His name is Minseok. We went to school together. He was Sujin’s suggestion because my phone was dead and I had no ride home.”

Seungcheol still didn’t speak. He just looked at you with his jaw clenched.

“And second of all,” you continued, walking closer to him.

“Don’t you dare turn this into some bullshit theory about me cheating. You know me better than that. Or at least, I thought you did.”

“I do know you,” he said, but the words sounded unsure now. “I just—I was scared Y/n.”

“I know,” you said, softer now, but still firm.

“And I’ve already apologised for not calling. I should’ve found a way. I get that. But you don’t get to throw baseless accusations at me just because you were scared.”

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair as he paced a bit around the hallway. “I’m not saying you cheated. I just—seeing you with him, then coming home late, not answering me—it messed me up. I waited for hours, just imagining the worst. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think.”

“I get it,” you repeated.

“But do you hear yourself? You think I’m out sleeping around because I got a ride from an old classmate? Because I smiled at him?”

Seungcheol sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it sounds stupid now.”

“It doesn’t just sound stupid Cheol,” your voice cracked, shaking your head. “It sounds like you don’t trust me.”

You gave him a last, glassy-eyed look before you walked past him. And as you did, your shoulder unintentionally bumped against his.

Seungcheol didn’t say a word. He didn’t even stop you. He just stood there, still and guilt-ridden, as he watched you disappear upstairs.

His face went pale, and his chest felt tight. He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to call your name, or maybe to say sorry. But no sound came out. What would it change? The damage was already done. He said the one thing he could never take back.

Seungcheol knew he messed up. He knew he crossed a line that might be too late to step back from. But in that moment, all he could do was stand there — frozen in the ruins of a conversation he never should have started that way.

You, on the other hand, tried so hard to stay composed. You willed your feet to keep moving, step by step up the stairs, while holding back the sobs building in your throat. Your chest felt like it was caving in.

But the second you reached your shared bedroom and closed the door behind you, everything broke loose.

You dropped onto the edge of the bed, like your body couldn’t carry the burden of your bottled up emotions any longer.

Your body began to shake as the first sob broke free. The first sob that escaped from your lips was sharp and strangled, followed by another. And another. Soon, they were pouring out of you uncontrollably. You curled in on yourself as your hands gripped the bedsheets, trying to stop the ache in your chest from spreading further.

But it was useless. The pain was too much.

You never imagined hearing those kinds of words from him. Not Seungcheol. Not the man who once told you he trusted you more than anyone in the world. The man who always said he didn’t need constant reassurance because “you’re my person.”

You weren’t crying just because he yelled at you. Or because of the jealousy. It was what it all meant. It was the implication behind his words, and the doubt in his voice. To you, it made you feel like you weren’t someone he could fully trust.

That hurt more than anything else. Because after everything you had been through together and every moment where he told you you were his safe space — it now felt like none of it mattered apparently.

Downstairs, Seungcheol sat on the edge of the sofa with his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. The house was too quiet now. Except for the faint, muffled sound of your sobs upstairs. The sound shattered him more than anything. He knew you were trying to keep it in. You always did. But it wasn’t working tonight.

He could practically feel your pain from where he sat. Every cry of yours echoed in his ears, louder than anything else. His hands curled into fists at the thought of it — at the reality of him being the cause. He used to be the one who made you smile, and wipe your tears. He promised to never make you cry.

Now look at him.

Seungcheol hated himself for it. For letting his emotions get the best of him. For turning on the person he loved most. He would’ve fought anyone who made you cry like that — anyone — and yet tonight, he was the one who broke you. And now he didn’t know how to fix it.

He let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the sofa as his eyes trained on the ceiling like it could somehow offer an answer. But all he found there was more regret and more silence.

The sound of your crying didn’t stop. If anything, it became softer and more defeated. And that scared him more. Loud cries were of pain. Silent ones were of emptiness. He knew the difference.

He replayed the argument in his head over and over. His words and how your expression changed, and the way you flinched. He saw it all. It wasn’t just what he said. It was how easily it came out, wnd how little thought he gave before hurting you.

The worst part was that none of this came from a place of true doubt in you. He didn’t really think you cheated. The thought didn’t even occur to him until his anger morphed into a kind of jealousy he hadn’t even felt before. He was just finding an excuse to lash out on you for being late and not answering his calls. He knew he shouldn’t have. And instead of dealing with it like a grown man, like a partner, he lashed out like a child.

Seungcheol cursed under his breath and stood up abruptly. He paced around the living room as he thought about going upstairs. Apologising. He wanted to tell you everything he should have said instead. But what would he even say? “I didn’t mean it”? That felt too small. Too late even.

But still, he had to try.

Reluctantly, Seungcheol made his way upstairs. Your cries had now dulled into soft, broken sniffles that barely reached past the bedroom door, but they still echoed in his ears like sirens.

He paused just before the door as his hand hovered over the knob. He didn’t know if he was ready to face you, not after the damage he caused with words spoken in both anger and fear. He always promised to protect your heart and to never break it. But now here he was, standing on the other side of a door that never felt more like a barrier between you.

Maybe he should’ve waited longer and gave you space to breathe. But space also meant distance, and he didn’t want distance, especially not tonight. Not when things already felt like they were slipping. He didn’t want you to think he didn’t trust you. He didn’t want you to think his doubt meant he didn’t love you. Because that wasn’t it. Not at all.

He turned the knob slowly and gently pushed the door open.

There he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed, with your back to him. You wiped at your face quickly when you heard the door open, like you were trying to erase the evidence of your pain before he could see it.

But it was too late. Your eyes were red and glassy, and your movements stiff and tired. Without saying a word, you got up and walked across the room towards your vanity.

Seungcheol stood at the door. He wasn’t sure if he should come in or back away. But after a beat, he forced his feet to move.

“Baby…” he started softly, his voice cracking a little. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where to start. Everything he wanted to tell you felt too small compared to the hurt he saw on your face.

You didn’t respond.

He took a few more steps, watching as you sat down at the vanity and began removing your makeup. You moved like you were a robot as you dabbed at your eyes and wiped your cheeks. You didn’t even look at him. To you, he might as well have been invisible.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stopping behind you. His voice was quiet and careful. “I didn’t mean what I said. Really. I was just…”

But you still didn’t respond.

The wipes in your hand were tossed into the bin beside the vanity with a bit more force than necessary, but your face stayed calm. Not cold. Just blank. That was somehow worse. The silence was deafening, like it was screaming at him louder than any words you could have thrown.

He didn’t push, though. He just stood there and watched helplessly as you rose from the chair and brushed past him without a word towards the wardrobe. You pulled out a clean pair of pyjamas, underwear, and a towel. Then you turned and made your way towards the bathroom.

Seungcheol was left standing in the middle of your bedroom like a ghost. Like a man who broke something sacred and didn’t know how to fix it. He slumped onto the bed with elbows on his knees and head in his hands. His shoulders sagged and his chest felt tighter.

He played it back again. Every word. Every raised tone. Every look of disbelief and hurt on your face. And he hated himself even more for it.

All he could think about was how you didn’t yell. You didn’t throw anything. You didn’t argue. You just…shut down. That was how he knew it hit you harder than even he realised.

The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the room faintly. It was the only thing that broke the silence now. He sat there for what felt like forever, unsure if he should leave, or if he should knock and ask to come in.

But he knew you needed this time. Time to process. Time to breathe.

His heart ached.

He wanted to walk into that bathroom and pull you into his arms. He wanted to apologise properly. To kiss your forehead and promise he’d do better. That he’d never let his fears cloud the love he had for you again. But something told him words weren’t going to be enough. Not after the hurt he had caused.

╴╴╴╴╴

Seungcheol stayed sitting on the bed, waiting. The silence was too suffocating, and he rubbed his hands together as nerves ate away at him. He didn’t move from the edge of the bed since you closed the bathroom door behind you. Part of him still wanted to go ant knock, to beg for a second chance right there.

But he knew better. You needed space, and for once, he was going to respect that.

When the bathroom door finally creaked open, his head snapped in that direction.

You saw you walking out slowly in your fresh set of silk pyjamas. Your damp hair stuck softly to your shoulders as you gently dried it with a towel. Your face was calm, but still unreadable. There was no trace of any emotion. No glance in his direction nor any words.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

Seungcheol swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier by the second. The atmosphere was thick and tense. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could leave, you turned on the hair dryer. The loud whir filled the room, drowning him out completely and silencing any attempt at conversation before it even began.

He watched as you dried your hair. There was nothing rushed about you, yet everything about you screamed restraint. You were containing your anger, holding back your pain. He could see it, even if you refused to show it.

When the hair dryer finally shut off, the silence that followed was almost louder. You didn’t look at him. You simply walked past the bed, flicked off the lights, and climbed under the covers without a word. As the room dimmed, the shadows softened everything but the ache in his chest.

Seungcheol stood there in the dark for a moment, unsure if he should follow or give you space. But the need to be close to you and to feel your warmth pulled him forward.

He climbed into the bed behind you slowly and carefully. Your back was facing him and your body was curled slightly away. He hesitated for a moment as his heart pounded. Then, inch by inch, he scooted closer. Gently, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him, like he’d done so many nights before.

But, it didn’t feel the same this time.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck and breathed you in. You still smelled like the same shampoo he always teased you for hoarding in bulk. You still felt like home. But the stiffness in your body and the lack of response said everything he didn’t want to hear.

“Please baby,” he whispered into your ear. “I’m sorry.”

And he meant it. God, he meant it with every fiber of his being.

But you didn’t respond. Not with words. Not with a sigh. Not with a look.

Instead, your hand gently grabbed his wrist and nudged him away. You shifted forward, creating space between your bodies. He lay there, stunned, as his arm fell limply back to his side.

The cold hit him instantly. Not the air though, but the absence of you. The absence of your warmth and of your forgiveness. His heart dropped so far down, and so painfully, that he had to close his eyes to keep himself from falling apart.

To say his heart broke would be an understatement. It shattered into pieces. It hit the ground so hard, he swore he could hear the smash.

His eyes burned. He blinked to try to stop the tears before they could fall. But one slipped free. Then another.

Seungcheol didn’t cry often. He was strong and always the one to give you confidence during your doubts. But right now, he felt like sand slipping through fingers. Powerless to hold anything together.

He messed up. Bad. And he knew it.

He laid still. He was unsure if he should try again or stay silent. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this.

He’d apologise again in the morning. He’d make you your favourite breakfast. He’d give you space if that’s what you wanted, or hold you tighter if you let him. He just needed you to know that he never meant what he said. That no guy in the world could ever replace what you were to him. That his words were laced with panic and not reality.

He needed you to know that he was terrified of losing you, and in trying to keep you safe, he might have pushed you too far.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Sleep never came. Not for him.

Seungcheol listened to the rhythm of your breathing. He hoped that it would calm him. But it didn’t. It only reminded him how far he felt from you, even in the same bed.

He reached out once more, hesitatingly, and let his fingers hover inches from your back. Then he withdrew, letting his hand fall beside him again.

Tomorrow, he’d try again, and you hoped you would give him a chance.

▍8 MAY 2024

When Seungcheol woke up the next morning, he felt a slight chill immediately run through him. He shifted under the covers, and his body instinctively reached out across the bed to find you. But his hand landed on nothing but cold sheets. The side of the bed where you usually slept was empty.

Frowning, he pressed his palm against the mattress. It was cold — too cold. And he realised that you’d been up hours ago

Panic was slowly stirring in his gut. He rubbed his face tiredly, trying to get rid of the haze from his eyes as the soft sunlight bled in through the curtains. Maybe you were downstairs. Maybe you were just drinking tea or sitting in the living room. Maybe everything was fine. Maybe—

But the moment he sat up, he knew it wasn’t. The house was too quiet. Unnaturally so.

Normally, he’d hear you in the kitchen as you prepared breakfast for the two of you. And the smell. He could always smell the chamomile tea you made for him first thing, because you knew he needed it to start his day. You always made sure to have a cup ready for him. You’d have that soft, sleepy smile that made everything else in the world seem irrelevant.

Today, there was none of that.

There was no sound or smells. Not even the warmth of your presence.

Seungcheol’s heart was thudding uncomfortably in his chests as swung his legs over the bed. He sat there for a few seconds, hoping, praying that he’d hear something — anything — that would tell him you were still there.

But the silence was deafening.

With slightly trembling hands, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand. There were no messages from you, nor any missed calls. Just one new message from Sujin.

[SUJIN]:

You’re lucky I didn’t break your legs. How could you do that to her? She didn’t deserve any of it, Seungcheol. You better figure out how to fix this.

He stared at the message as the words burned into his brain. Sujin’s anger was expected. She was always protective of you, and sometimes even fiercely so.

He sent a quick message asking if you were with her, and patiently waited while biting onto his nails.

[SUJIN]:

Don’t worry about her, she’s safe.

Seungcheol let out a shaky breath of relief. While he was glad to know you were somewhere safe, it did nothing to calm the restlessness in his heart.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. His mind kept replaying everything from the night before — every word that came out of his mouth and every look on your face.

One of the reasons your relationship lasted so long and grew so strong was because of the deep understanding between you. You were always patient with each other. You were both always willing to listen and to step back when needed. You weren’t perfect, no couple was, but you respected each other enough to work through it all.

Arguments happened before, of course. Insignificant things, frustrations and disagreements. But never like this. Never so intense. Last night was different, because it felt like it reached somewhere much deeper than either of you ever touched before.

Seungcheol knew you weren’t someone who lashed out easily. You didn’t lose your temper or escalate fights. You were always thoughtful, even when you were hurt. You didn’t run from problems — you faced them with a calm strength that he always admired, even when he was too stubborn to show it.

In fact, to Seungcheol, you were always the more tolerant one between you both. You gave more grace. You forgave quicker and you loved harder. You were the one who always held the ship steady when the storms hit.

And that’s what made this morning so gut-wrenching.

For things to escalate so badly — for you to leave without a note or a word — that wasn’t you being dramatic. That was you protecting yourself. You were drawing a line he should have never forced you to draw.

The realisation twisted like a knife in his gut.

It wasn’t you being overly sensitive. It wasn’t you misunderstanding him. It was about him. His fear. His words. His failure to trust you when you deserved nothing less than unwavering belief.

The fight alone wasn’t the reason you left. You left because somewhere in the middle of his anger and unknown jealousy, he made you feel small. He made you feel in a way that questioned your loyalty. He hurt you badly.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

There was no one else to blame but himself.

He couldn’t even lie to himself and say it was a misunderstanding. He crossed a line, and now he was standing on the wrong side of it with no way of knowing if he could bridge the gap.

Seungcheol leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He knew it would take more than just showing up at the door with flowers. He knew it would take more than empty words thrown in a moment of panic.

It would take time. Especially patience.

And he would do whatever it took to earn his way back. Even if it meant starting from the ground up.

╴╴╴╴╴

Seungcheol spent the next four hours doing everything he could to distract himself. He scrubbed every surface of the house until his hands were sore. He picked up things that didn’t even need cleaning. He even reorganised drawers that were untouched for months. He did anything to keep himself moving, anything to keep his mind off from the deafening silence filling the space you both used to share so easily.

When there was nothing left to clean, he threw himself into work. He opened his laptop and started answering emails he would have normally ignored. But he couldn’t focus. His mind was elsewhere entirely.

He could have gone into the office. He could have pretended that it was a normal day. But he didn’t want to. He couldn’t. Because if he left the house, he’d miss the moment you came back.

That was when you’d come back.

Even as the hours dragged on, and hope started to thin like mist, he stayed. He stayed waiting. Regretting and hurting.

He checked his phone more times than he could count. He left you countless messages and calls in hopes that you would answer. And his heart jumped every time there was a vibration, only to be disappointed a second later. There were no answers from you. Only old notifications and an unread message from Sujin that was probably telling him to go fuck himself. Which was understandable.

But the silence from your end was killing him.

Just when he thought another second of waiting would crush him completely, he heard a soft click of the front door opening.

He nearly dropped the laptop off his lap in his scramble to stand up. He made his way quickly towards the hallway, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

And there you were.

You were bent over as you quietly slipped off your shoes. You were still in your pyjamas from the night before, with an oversized black jacket thrown over them.

You looked small and fragile. Exhausted.

He felt his heart twist painfully.

Your hair was slightly messy, and your face — God, your face — was red and puffy. It was obvious you hadn’t stopped crying, not for long anyway. You sniffed softly, blinking away fresh tears as you shoved your shoes aside without even sparing him a glance.

Seungcheol felt something inside him break.

“Baby,” he called out softly, voice cracking slightly as he took a cautious step forward.

But you didn’t respond. Not even paused. You just walked right past him.

He turned and followed you to the living room, helpless and desperate.

You shrugged off your jacket and placed it on the arm of the sofa, while your back was still facing him. You still didn’t look at him. You didn’t say a single word.

Seungcheol felt his chest tighten painfully, and his throat growing thick.

“Baby, please,” he choked out as he stepped closer.

Still, you said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, almost too quietly.

The words felt inadequate. They were empty compared to the hurt he caused. But he needed you to hear them. He needed you to know that he was willing to say it as many times as you needed. That he would spend the rest of his life making up for what he said.

“I know it’s not enough,” he continued, struggling to find his voice, “for the amount of hurt I’ve caused you by my words, but…” he trailed off, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“I’m truly sorry,” he finally said.

You still didn’t turn around.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he said. The words were tumbling out now, more urgent and desperate.

“But I should have never said what I said. Never made you think I didn’t trust you. Fuck,” his voice cracked, fighting the tears he refused to let fall.

“Baby, I didn’t mean any of it. I really didn’t,” he cried.

He took another hesitant step closer. And he watched your shoulders tense, and how still you were, like you were holding yourself together by a thread.

He wanted to reach out and touch your hand. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and promise he’d never let anything like this happen again.

But he was terrified. He was terrified that if he pushed too hard, you’d pull even farther away.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice shaking.

“That’s not an excuse. It’s not. I let fear get to me. I let it make me doubt the person I trust more than anyone else in the world. And I hurt you. I hurt you when I should have been the one protecting you.”

Still nothing. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and deafeningly, long between you.

Seungcheol stood there feeling utterly helpless as his heart beat so painfully he thought it might break apart completely.

He wished he could rewind time. He wished he could take back every stupid and reckless word that came out of his mouth. But he couldn’t. All he could do was stand there, hurting and hoping that you would give him even a sliver of a chance to make things right.

He dropped his head, and his arms hung uselessly at his sides.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right now,” he said.

“Maybe not even tomorrow. Or the day after that. But I’ll be here. I’ll wait. However long it takes. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

A tear finally escaped, trailing down his cheek. But he didn’t bother wiping it away.

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said, voice cracking again. “I would never.”

For a moment, nothing happened. You didn’t move, nor speak.

Seungcheol felt like he was suffocating. The longer you stayed silent, the tighter the air felt in his lungs. The fact that you wouldn’t even look at him shattered him more.

You didn’t have to scream. You didn’t have to say a single word. Your silence was already deafening enough that it echoed louder than any insult or accusation he had ever faced.

He stood there for a moment, watching you. He could feel the distance between you. You were right there in front of him, but you felt so far away.

And that was unbearable.

So he stepped forward, cautiously. He reached out, almost hesitantly, and wrapped his arms gently around your waist from behind. You didn’t resist. You didn’t lean into him either. But you didn’t pull away. And to Seuncheol, it was the tiniest mercy he clung to it like a lifeline.

He pulled you in slowly, pressing your back against his chest. He hoped that the warmth of his touch could speak where his words failed. He leaned down and buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling a shaky breath.

Then, he started to sob. Quietly at first as his shoulders shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and thin. It was all he could manage at first.

“I’m so fucking sorry baby.” The words tumbled out again more desperately.

Seuncheol didn’t care if he sounded pathetic. He didn’t care that he was crying or pleading. All he cared about was the wall between you — the silence. If falling to pieces at your feet meant you’d speak to him again, he’d do it a thousand times.

“Scream at me,” he begged softly, his breath hitching. “Curse me. Heck, hit me. Just…please, say something baby. Anything.”

Still, you didn’t speak.

But then he felt the slightest shift in your body.

Your shoulders relaxed ever so slightly under his touch, and your head tilted just enough for him to feel your cheek brush lightly against his. You weren’t rigid anymore and you weren’t fighting his presence.

“Say something baby, please. Anything. I want to hear you,” Seungcheol pleaded with a shaky voice, tightening his arms around you. He could feel his heart pounding erratically against your back.

But you didn’t answer. You stayed still and silent. And the air felt too thick to breathe. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, eyes shut tightly as he tried to keep it together. His grip wasn’t forceful, but there was urgency in it.

A long minute passed in the choking silence. Then, just when he thought it would stretch on forever, he heard a soft whimper.

Seungcheol stiffened, and his heart began staggering. He slowly lifted his head, and listened.

Another whimper followed, then a sharp, broken breath. And then — sobs. Real, raw, heart-wrenching sobs.

You broke down in his arms.

Seungcheol froze, and soon panic began to swallow him.

“No, no, no…” he whispered as he quickly turned you around to face him.

“Hey— hey, baby” his hands moved to your face, cupping it gently. “Look at me, please.”

Your cheeks were damp and flushed, and your eyes swollen and red. And the moment he saw you like that, something inside him shattered. He never saw you cry like this. Not even during your worst arguments, not even during your lowest moments.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered as his thumbs brushed under your eyes to catch the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, my love.”

His voice cracked mid-sentence, and his throat burned as if the words were scraping against the regret lodged there. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he mumbled as his breathing ragged, and his forehead gently pressed against yours now.

But you only cried harder.

Your body folded forward, and your forehead pressed into his chest as your sobs muffled against his shirt. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were something fragile.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he whispered again. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear.”

He said it in a way to not just reassure you, but as if repeating it could somehow undo it. As if it could take back the words he let slip when he lost control.

You didn’t respond. But your fists clutched at the fabric of his shirt as you held him just tight enough for him to know that you weren’t pushing him away. Not entirely.

And that was enough for him to completely fall apart.

He stood there as he rocked you gently. Tears were spilling from his own eyes as your cries rang within the quiet house. He didn’t care that he was crying. He didn’t care about anything but you.

He’d never felt so powerless in his life.

“I thought I was losing you,” he confessed quietly.

“Last night…I panicked. When I saw that you weren’t picking up my calls or answering my texts, and then seeing you get out of someone else’s car…I lost it. And instead of asking if you were okay, I accused you. I doubted you. I hurt you.”

You hiccuped through your sobs, still clutching his shirt. You hadn’t spoken yet, but your pain said everything.

“I’ve never regretted anything more than that moment,” he said, voice breaking.

“I should’ve trusted you. I do trust you. I just didn’t trust myself to be enough. And I let that insecurity punish you instead.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, even though your eyes were still closed and streaming with tears. “You didn’t deserve that. You never have. You’ve always been the one who held us together. And I— I let my worst fear make me the one who tore us apart.”

You finally let out a shaky breath, not quite a word, but enough to make him freeze.

His hand trembled as he brushed your hair back gently. “Please talk to me,” he whispered.

“I know I don’t deserve it right now, but…I just need to know if there’s even a piece of you that still wants to fight for us.”

He would understand if you didn’t. He’d hate it, and it would destroy him. But he’d understand.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and for the first time since you walked through the door, your eyes met his. The look you gave him wasn’t angry. It was exhausted. Shattered and deeply sad.

It broke him all over again.

“I was scared too,” you finally said, your voice hoarse.

“I never thought we’d come to such a point. And I was scared that the person I trusted the most didn’t believe in me. That…you saw me the way strangers might. Like I could just…be thrown away.”

“No,” Seungcheol said quickly, shaking his head.

“Never. I don’t see you that way. I never have, and I never will. It’s all my fault for being so insecure when there was no reason to be.”

“You really hurt me,” you said in a whisper as more tears welled up in your eyes.

“I know,” he replied softly, forehead pressing against yours again.

“And I will spend as long as it takes proving to you that I’ll never let it happen again.”

╴╴╴╴╴

The two of you were cuddled up together on the sofa. You were wrapped up in each other with your bodies entangled in a way that words couldn’t describe properly. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, the quiet between you was simply peaceful.

You talked softly. It was obvious how tired you were with how your voice was low, but it was still full of honesty. The rawness of the last twenty-four hours still lingered, but neither of you ran from it.

You repeated how scared you were and how betrayed you felt, and Seungcheol listened to you without interrupting. His apologies kept streaming, and not just verbally but through his tears and trembling touches. Especially in the way he held you like you — like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Eventually, your words began to slow down. You started to speak less and less, and your sentences trailed off as your head rested more fully on his chest. He could feel your breath even out before your body slowly went limp.

You fell asleep on him mid-thought.

Seungcheol looked down at you and just…smiled. Not because he was relieved, nor because the hurt disappeared, but because you were here — in his arms. You trusted him enough to let your guard down again, even if it was only for a moment.

It meant a lot to him. More than anything.

He brushed his fingers gently across your cheek, and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. You shifted slightly in your sleep, your face scrunching just a bit before relaxing again. He chuckled under his breath and continued to trace your jawline with the back of his knuckles.

You were exhausted. He knew that.

Everything that went down last night drained you. You didn’t sleep properly, didn’t eat much either, and your body was finally demanding what your heart didn’t let it take: rest.

Carefully, Seungcheol slid out from beneath you, trying his best not to jostle you awake. You stirred just a little as your hand weakly clutched the hem of his shirt.

“It’s okay love. I’m right here,” he softly whispered, and you relaxed again before letting him go.

He stood up and stretched his back slightly, before he turned his gaze down to you. You looked so small curled up on the sofa like that.

Without another second of hesitation, he leaned down and gently scooped you up into his arms.

Your head fell against his shoulder as he lifted you. You didn’t stir much either. Seungcheol just let out a quiet sigh as he adjusted his grip and carried you towards the bedroom. He made sure that his footsteps were soft so you wouldn’t wake up.

When he reached the bedroom, he gently nudged the door open with his foot and walked over to the bed. He then placed you down slowly. His hands lingered at your sides for a second longer before he grabbed the blanket and pulled it over you, tucking it around your frame.

It was only three in the afternoon, but the sunlight peeking through the window gave everything a golden hue. He stood there for a moment, and just watched you breathe. You looked peaceful again. Not fully at ease, nor healed — but calm. And that was enough, for now.

You badly needed the rest.

And if he had anything to do with it, he’d make sure you had all the time in the world to feel like you had nothing to worry about.

Seungcheol sat on the edge of the bed, and his eyes never left your face. He reached out and brushed his fingers along your forehead, gently moving the strands of hair that had fallen across your features.

You always looked beautiful to him, but in this moment, you looked ethereal. Vulnerable, yes. But resilient too.

He leaned down slowly and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was a promise that he would do better. Be better.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

He stayed beside you for a while, just watching. He sat listening to the way your breath slowed even more as you fell into a deeper slumber. The lines of tension in your face smoothed out and your lips parted slightly, while your hands loosened beneath the blanket.

Seungcheol didn’t want to leave your side, but he didn’t want to disturb you either. So after a long minute, he stood up quietly and took one last look at you before backing towards the door.

Before leaving, he turned back around, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

He loved you so much it hurt sometimes. But for the first time since yesterday, he felt like maybe there was still something worth rebuilding. And he was going to fight like hell to rebuild it. Brick by brick.

a/n; please like and reblog 🫶🏽

[minniesfiles]

THE SILENT TREATMENT SERIES

Collection of scenarios where you give each other silent treatment.

☁︎ SEUNGCHEOL

A thousand sorries│8.7k [a, h/c]

Your phone died without you realising it while at your high school reunion party. So when your best friend requested an old classmate to drop you home, you didn’t realise how much it would shake your relationship with your husband, who you swore would’ve never doubted your loyalty.

☁︎ JEONGHAN

coming soon…

☁︎ JOSHUA

coming soon…

☁︎ JUNHUI

coming soon…

☁︎ SOONYOUNG

coming soon…

☁︎ WONWOO

coming soon…

☁︎ JIHOON

coming soon…

☁︎ SEOKMIN

coming soon…

☁︎ MINGYU

coming soon…

☁︎ MINGHAO

coming soon…

☁︎ SEUNGKWAN

coming soon…

☁︎ HANSOL

coming soon…

☁︎ CHAN

coming soon…

▸▶︎ NAVIGATION ◀︎◂

[minniesfiles]

BLOOM WITH YOU | month 2

After years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, light smut

❧ WARNINGS; none

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist │ masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍16 FEBRUARY 2026

“Stop! That tickles!” you giggled. You squirmed slightly as you stood in the soft morning light with your shirt bunched up beneath your chest and belly exposed to the cool air.

Wonwoo was kneeling in front of you with a pink sharpie in his hand. He looked determined, but also mildly frustrated, as he stared at his latest attempt at drawing a heart shape around your navel. Your belly was still small but no longer entirely flat,

“Babe,” he groaned. He sat back on his heels with the sharpie still uncapped in one hand while the other rubbed at his temple. “Just stay still for one second. I need this heart to be perfect or it won’t look good in the pictures.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully crossed your arms over your chest. “You’ve already drawn four crooked ones. I think the baby will forgive you if it’s not Instagram-worthy.”

Your husband looked up at you with that soft grin that always managed to melt your irritation. “This is for our baby’s album, not social media. I want them to see everything and how much we loved them before they even arrived.”

Something about that simple statement made your breath catch. Even after all the years together, all the heartbreak and the six losses you never fully healed from, Wonwoo still had the ability to see hope. And to believe in it.

He reached forward and pressed a kiss to your belly, right over the half-formed heart, and whispered something you couldn’t quite hear. You felt the warmth of his breath and the soft scratch of his stubble. But most of all, you felt the gravity of his love.

You were ten weeks along. The bump wasn’t obvious yet. If anything, you just looked like you had a heavy meal. But Wonwoo noticed everything. The slight curve of your abdomen. The way your hand would sometimes drift to rest there without thinking. The tiredness in your eyes in the evenings, and the small shifts in your appetite. To him, those little changes were signs of life. It was proof that the tiny bean growing inside you was still holding on.

And so, every week since the hospital talk, he had been documenting everything. He turned your hallway into a makeshift studio, with white backdrop, fairy lights, even a ring light he ordered online “just to get the right glow.”

His camera, which he would often use for moody cityscapes and random low-light portraits, now clicked infinite pictures of you. Either laughing, crying, or eating pickles and peanut butter at midnight. But his favourite was when you’d nap with your head on his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

It had started as a simple idea: a photo every week, just to track the journey. But it quickly turned into a full-on project. Wonwoo was capturing memories. Moments. Little evidence of the love you already carried for someone you hadn’t even met yet.

“Turn a little this way,” he instructed, clicking his tongue as he looked through the viewfinder. “Okay, now place your hands under the bump — yes, like that. Perfect.”

You posed. But at the same time you tried not to laugh at how serious he looked, crouched like a professional photographer with a camera strap dangling from his neck. Like the professional he was, he moved with quiet precision as he snapped photo after photo, then stepping forward to adjust your hair or reposition the lighting with gentle hands.

The room was filled with nothing but shutter clicks and your soft laughter.

╴╴╴╴╴

Later when the mini photo-shoot was over, Wonwoo sat with you on the sofa. Your legs were stretched out over his lap while he edited all the photos he shot. The photos were beautiful. Natural and radiant. You simply looked so happy. Soft and full of a glow you didn’t realised you were carrying.

“See? This is what I want our baby to see.” Wonwoo showed you one photo in particular. It was a candid moment where you were looking down at your belly as you faintly smiled with a hand resting protectively over it.

“I want them to know how deeply they were wanted.”

You pressed your face into his shoulder to hide the sudden wave of emotion. “I’m scared to want this too much,” you admitted. Wonwoo didn’t respond immediately. He just kept stroking your arm gently, his fingers finding their familiar rhythm against your skin.

“We can be scared. That’s okay. But let’s still hope anyway” he finally said.

It was easier said than done.

Every time you dared to hope, every time you picked out names, imagined nursery colours, imagined what your baby would look like with your nose or his eyes — it always ended up with you lying within the four hospital walls.

But this time was different — or so Dr. Jung insisted.

The frequent checkups helped. Every week, she ran another ultrasound, checked your hormone levels, and adjusted medications. There were more tubes and blood draws than you wanted to count, and more nights lying awake wondering if every cramp or twinge was a sign of another loss.

But each visit so far had ended with the same sound: a stable, tiny heartbeat. The baby was holding on.

Dr. Jung was cautiously optimistic. With the added progesterone and hormone therapy, your body was supporting the embryo better than ever before. And with constant surveillance, she said she could catch the earliest signs of complication.

You remembered her words clearly: “We’re not waiting for something to go wrong. We’re staying ahead of it this time.”

It helped having her in your corner. She said the embryo had implanted in a healthy area. Your uterus was responding well to the hormones. Your blood flow was better than expected. The baby had a good chance — better than any of your previous pregnancies.

Still, the fear lingered. It always did.

You remember one night, when Wonwoo was already asleep, where you sat up in bed, hand resting lightly on your stomach. The room was dark, save for the glow of the moon through the window. “Please stay. Just this once…stay” you’d whisper softly.

The next morning, you found a small sticky note taped to the bathroom mirror in Wonwoo’s familiar handwriting.

▏We already love you more than life. Stay with us, little one.”

He never asked if you read it. He didn’t have to.

a/n; short but sweet :)

[minniesfiles]

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

Soonyoung loves his idol life, no matter how exhausting it gets, but the joy of coming back home to you was a different kind of happiness.

❧ PAIRING; soonyoung x reader

❧ GENRE; hurt/comfort, fluff

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, idol soonyoung, hurt/comfort, long distance relationship, fluff

❧ WORDCOUNT; 4.4k

𐚁₊⊹

13 OCTOBER 2022

Soonyoung loved being part of SEVENTEEN. That part never changed, no matter how heavy the days got. The years of blood, sweat, and tears he poured into dancing, singing, rehearsing until his body screamed for rest — he didn’t regret any of it. All the effort shaped him. It forged unbreakable bonds with his members and brought them closer to fans across the world. The love they received was overwhelming at times, but it was real. And Soonyoung loved them back just as much.

Still, there were days when even love wasn’t enough to keep the exhaustion at bay.

Lately, everything felt heavier. The amount of cities, performances, press, and short moments of sleep was starting to wear him down. He hadn’t been home in months. He didn’t see you in just as long.

And that was the part that hurt most.

He sat on the floor of the empty practice room, legs stretched out and back pressed against the cold mirror. The only light in the room came from the glow of his phone which was propped up on a water bottle in front of him. You were on the screen, curled up in bed with your face puffy and eyes red from crying. Soonyoung couldn’t word how much his chest ached at the sight.

“I miss you so much,” you whispered.

Soonyoung pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening as your voice cracked.

“It’s like I haven’t seen you in years,” you said, voice trembling, “and it hurts so fucking bad.”

He closed his eyes for a second, letting your words sink in, and forced himself not to cry. Not in front of you. You were already hurting. He had to stay strong. But God, did it hurt. Your voice sounded like a knife to the ribs.

“I know,” he finally said, voice low. “I miss you too. So much.”

Silence lingered. Not an awkward kind, but one that screamed louder than words. The one that felt like goodbye even when it’s not.

Soonyoung ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. Practice ended hours ago, but he didn’t leave. He didn’t want to go back to the hotel room. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He didn’t want to keep pretending everything was fine.

“I hate this,” you said, your voice smaller now.

“I know what you signed up for, I know how much this means to you. But sometimes I just…I feel so far away from you. Like I’m not even part of your life anymore.”

That broke him.

“You are,” he said quickly, almost desperately.

“You’re the biggest part of it. Every time I walk on stage, every time I smile for a camera, I’m thinking of you baby. I swear.”

You looked away, wiping your cheek with your sleeve.

“I believe you,” you said. “It’s just…hard.”

He nodded, even though you weren’t looking. He knew exactly what you meant. The late-night calls that got dropped because of bad scheduling, the time zone differences, the missed anniversaries, the ‘I love yous’ sent through texts instead of kisses.

It was hard. It was brutal.

“I think about you all the time,” he said.

“When I’m on the plane, when I’m backstage, when I’m in bed and I can’t sleep…I replay our memories in my head just so I can hear your laugh.”

You laughed, but it was soft and tired. “That’s cheesy.”

“I know,” he said with a half-smile. “But it’s true.”

He looked around the practice room. The mirrors reflected a ghostly, drained version of him. Practice rooms had always been a little safe space for Soonyoung, an escape from reality. Now, it just reminded him of how much time he had lost. Time he could’ve spent with you.

“After the next leg of the tour,” he said suddenly, “I’m coming home. Even if it’s just for a few days. I need to see you. I need to feel like myself again.”

“You promise?” you asked.

“I swear.”

There was another long silence, but this one felt different. Softer.

“I don’t need grand gestures,” you whispered.

“I just want you. Sitting on the sofa next to me. Having a movie marathon like we always do. You and Latte falling asleep with your heads in my lap. I want the simple stuff.”

Soonyoung’s eyes stung. He blinked hard.

“I want that too,” he said. “More than anything.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while the phone still glowed in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he added, voice cracking. “I know this isn’t fair to you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not about fair. It’s just about love. And I love you enough to wait. I just need to know you’re coming back.”

“I am,” he said. “I’m always coming back to you.”

Your smile was tired, but real. And for the first time in weeks, it felt like you were both breathing again.

“Okay,” you said.

There was a comfortable silence afterwards. Soonyoung gave you the gentlest smile that made your heart flutter and ache all at once. You could tell he was trying to be strong — for you, for himself — but his eyes gave everything away.

“You know, Latte misses you just as much as I do,” you said as you shifted on your bed with your fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve.

Your boyfriend’s smile widened a little at the mention of your shared dog, really. The little bundle of energy Soonyoung insisted on naming “Latte” after his favorite drink rather than the colour of his fur.

Soonyoung’s eyes softened. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “He keeps whining in the middle of the night by the front door. Just sits there and waits. Sometimes he scratches at it like he thinks you’ll walk through any second.”

You let out a light giggle, but it came with a lump in your throat. Soonyoung leaned his head back against the mirror and sighed, clearly trying not to cry.

“I miss him too,” he said quietly. “I miss everything. You. Home. The dumb jingles we sing when we feed him.”

Your chest tightened. “He still does that little spin when I say ‘snack time.’ Like you taught him.”

That made Soonyoung laugh, and for a moment, the heaviness between you both lifted.

“I’ll be back home soon,” he whispered. “I promise.” And even though promises didn’t make the distance hurt less, somehow, that one helped.

“Hmm” you hummed, “I can’t wait.”

Soonyoung stayed on the call even after you fell asleep. He watched your chest rise and fall, the faint noise of your breathing being the only sound in the empty room. He didn’t move, nor did he blink much. He just sat there with the phone in front of him and all the things he couldn’t say stuck in his throat.

He wanted to tell you how he replayed your last hug in his head every night. How he had a photo of you tucked inside his phone case, hidden so no one would see. How every love song on stage felt like a lie unless he imagined you in the crowd.

But those words could wait.

For now, just watching you sleep gave him enough peace to get through one more day.

And maybe that was enough. For now.

30 DECEMBER 2022

Soonyoung felt off the moment he stepped back onto the Korean soil. Not in a bad way — just…different. Like his body knew where it was, but his mind didn’t catch up yet. It had been nearly eight months since they left for the world tour back in May, and now here he was again, standing in the place he longed for night after night, in hotel rooms and backstage dressing areas and long-haul flights that blurred into each other.

His boots hit the ground with a soft thud as he walked down the private ramp. The cold winter air hit him hard. His mask was up and his cap pulled low. His manager walked a step ahead as he quietly ushered him and the rest of the members through a side exit. No press. No fans. No chaos.

Just quiet.

Exactly what he asked for.

The tour had been good — amazing, even. Performing in cities they hadn’t visited in years, meeting fans from different parts of the world, seeing tears, hearing chants in languages he didn’t even speak. That was the dream. And he was living it.

But dreams still drained him. His muscles ached from dancing nonstop, and his voice was still a little hoarse from the last encore. His soul felt stretched thin.

Soonyoung loved being on stage. But damn, he missed being still.

His mind raced as he walked through the corridors of the private terminal. What was it now — December thirtieth? One day away from the new year. The thought of starting a new year back in his own country, in his own bed, and with you? That was the only thing keeping him upright at this point.

You didn’t know he was coming back. In fact, he didn’t tell you on purpose.

There were too many delays and too many last-minute changes with the schedule. He didn’t want to risk getting your hopes up. Plus, part of him liked the idea of surprising you. He wanted to knock on the door after months apart and see the shock on your face morph into joy.

He could already imagine it. The way your eyes would widen when you saw him, the little breath you’d take before you smiled, the way your hands would fly to your mouth in disbelief before you pulled him in like you never wanted to let go again.

Just the thought of it had his heart pounding harder than any concert adrenaline ever had.

As the vans rolled away from the airport, each member heading off to their own quiet reunions, Soonyoung sat in the backseat of his own vehicle, head leaned against the cold window. The city lights flickered past, a blur of neon and car horns, but he wasn’t really looking at any of it.

He was thinking of you.

What were you doing right now?

Curled up in bed?

Watching some late-night drama, wrapped in a blanket with Latte snuggled beside you?

Were you thinking of him too and counting the days until he’d return — unaware that today was that day?

His anticipation grew with every turn the car made and every block that brought him closer to you. He went over this moment a thousand times in his head during the tour. When homesickness hit hard, when the stage lights dimmed and the silence afterward felt louder than anything.

And now, it was finally happening.

He checked his phone. No new messages from you, which was perfect. You still had no idea.

He glanced at the passenger seat, where a small paper bag sat. Inside was your favorite pastry from Tokyo — a cream bun from that bakery you loved. He remembered you mentioning it during a call. Soonyoung went out of his way to wake up an hour earlier before he flew back to grab it. He wasn’t coming home empty-handed.

When the car finally pulled onto his street, his stomach twisted in the best way. He sat up straighter as his eyes scanned the familiar buildings.

The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror, “this is it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung said, voice low. “Right here’s good.”

He got out and slung his bag over one shoulder before grabbing the pastry bag. The street was quiet, just past midnight now. There was a thin layer of frost that dusted the sidewalk. He adjusted his hoodie and walked up the steps to the door.

His breath clouded in the cold, and his fingers were stiff as he reached for the keypad, before punching in the code you both shared.

The door clicked open. And the moment he stepped in, his heart eased. It was warm and familiar, just like he remembered

He took his shoes off and walked in more quietly, and the smell of your fabric softener already pulled at his chest. Latte’s small barks echoed from the hallway seconds later, followed by the scrabble of tiny paws against the floor. The little dog bolted around the corner and froze mid-step when he saw Soonyoung.

“Hey buddy,” he whispered, crouching down.

Latte barked again, tail wagging violently as he launched himself at Soonyoung, circling him, whining, jumping — completely losing his mind. Soonyoung couldn’t help the smile that cracked across his face.

“Shhh, you’re gonna wake her—”

Too late.

From down the hall, you emerged with bleary-eyes and confusion. You were wrapped in a blanket, while your hair was messy from sleep.

As soon as your eyes locked onto the figure crouched in the entryway, you froze.

Soonyoung stood up slowly. And just like that, the world stopped.

Your eyes welled instantly, and your lips parted in disbelief. “You’re…”

“I’m home,” he whispered as he stepped forward.

You didn’t say another word. You just ran to him. The blanket fell from your shoulders, and your arms wrapped around his neck like you were afraid he’d vanish if you let go.

He caught you with both arms, holding you so tight it almost hurt. But neither of you cared.

It wasn’t long before Soonyoung heard it. That first muffled sob.

It broke the quiet like a crack in glass. You tried to hold it in. You tried to stay composed, but the second your face buried deeper into his chest, it all came loose.

They weren’t like the soft cries he grew used to hearing during video-calls. This was different. You were crying out loud now, the kind of cry that came from deep in your chest, raw and unstoppable.

You held onto him like gravity had let go, and he was the only thing keeping you at bay. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his hoodie tightly, knuckles white and nails digging in slightly as if you had to remind yourself that he was really there.

The more you cried, the tighter you held on. And the tighter you held on, the louder it got. And those sobs echoed off the walls of your apartment, you weren’t holding back at all. It wasn’t pretty or graceful, but Soonyoung never saw anything more honest.

Latte, completely unaware of what was happening, kept bouncing around your legs. He was barking and jumping, desperately trying to wedge himself into the moment. His small tail wagged furiously while his nails tapped against the floor, whining for attention. He couldn’t understand what was going on, he just knew his favourite humans were finally back in the same room again.

Soonyoung blinked fast, trying to stay composed. But then you let out a broken, gasping sound, and that was it. His own tears pushed through.

He dropped his bag to the floor and wrapped both arms around you firmly, almost protectively, pulling you in until there wasn’t a sliver of space between your bodies. He pressed a kiss to your temple and rested his chin on the crown of your head, breathing you in like you were the only oxygen he had.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he said it.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

The tears came with everything you pushed down over the last eight months. Every night you spent alone, every concert photo you scrolled through with a bittersweet smile, every message left on read because he was too exhausted to reply. You didn’t even realise how much you bottled up until he was here, holding you, and suddenly the dam inside you broke.

You were happy.

You were relieved.

You were overwhelmed in a way that words couldn’t quite capture.

It was like every version of yourself that you were during his absence was finally collapsing into the one version of you that mattered — this one, the one who got to feel him breathe again, and got to feel his heartbeat sync with yours in real time.

And Soonyoung? He felt it all.

Every shake of your shoulders, every sob, every desperate inhale — it tore at him, but not in a painful way. It was reassuring. It reminded him just how much he mattered to you, how real this was, and how deep it ran.

He rocked you slowly, side to side, like he was trying to soothe both of you. “I’m here now. I’m home, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, face still buried in his chest. You didn’t have the strength to speak yet.

“I missed you,” he added softly. “I thought about this moment a thousand times. But nothing compares to holding you again.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Your eyes were red and puffy, your cheeks damp, your lips quivering — but he never saw you more beautiful.

You suddenly laughed, but it was broken — half a sob, half a breath. “You really surprised me.”

He smiled, tear-streaked but full of love. “Good. That was the plan.”

You leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily now, both blinking through tears. “God, I missed you so much” you let out a deep breath.

“Me too baby, me too” Soonyoung replied, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

Latte, still being the persistent little ball of energy that he was, pawed at Soonyoung’s leg and let out a dramatic whine. You both looked down at him, then back at each other. And for the first time that night, you both laughed. A real one.

Soonyoung crouched down and scooped Latte up, holding him in one arm while still keeping the other around you. “Hey, I missed you too little guy,” he said, rubbing the dog’s ears.

Latte immediately licked his cheek as he wagged his tail like crazy. You shook your head, wiping your eyes again as you watched the reunion unfold. The warmth in your chest was spreading now, slowly overtaking the ache that was present for so long.

“Come on,” you said softly. “Let’s get out of the hallway.”

Soonyoung followed you inside and set Latte down. You took his bag without a word and placed it near the door. Then you turned back to him and opened your arms again.

“I need to keep hugging you,” you said simply.

He didn’t hesitate.

You stood in the middle of your house tangled in each other once again while the outside world was forgotten. The city could’ve been on fire and neither of you would’ve noticed.

This was your reunion. Messy. Loud. Beautiful. And it was exactly what both of you needed. No perfect script. No cinematic music. Just tears and laughter.

“I love you” Soonyoung whispered.

And for the first time in months, when you said it back, he got to hear it with his own ears. Not through a screen. Not as a message left unread until after rehearsal.

He held you like he would never let go again.

31 DECEMBER 2022 — 9:50 p.m.

“Babe!” you whined, craning your neck from the dining room towards the kitchen.

“Hurry before Latte jumps on the table and eats all the food!”

There was a clatter of something, probably a spoon, followed by the unmistakable sound of Soonyoung letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! He’s not that fast!” he let out.

You heard the shuffle of his slippers as he finally moved, taking his sweet time as usual. Soonyoung spent nearly the whole day preparing a spicy beef stew dish that he swore you’d love compared to the other dishes prepared. And honestly, you couldn’t wait to try it.

Your stomach growled, and you lightly kicked your foot under the table, impatient.

You glanced at the spread of different food in front of you and smiled. It looked fuller than it had in months. Some were recipes you both found online and tried to replicate over video calls. Others were comfort meals that both of you made whenever either of you were sad, sick, or just in need of something warm.

Now, they all sat in front of you again, in person.

Latte let out a soft bark and pawed at the leg of a chair. He already tried twice to get onto the table. You could see the intent in his eyes, he was waiting for the one second you weren’t looking to make his move.

“Latte!” you warned.

The dog dropped into a guilty sit, head tilted as if to say what? I wasn’t doing anything.

You were about to get up and go into the kitchen yourself when Soonyoung finally appeared in the doorway, holding the dish like it was some sort of trophy. He wore a goofy grin and an apron that read ‘Yes, Chef’, which had a faint stain of chili paste on the front.

He looked proud, and so happy.

“I present to you,” he said with mock grandeur, “the best spicy beef stew in all of Korea.”

You raised your brows. “That’s a bold claim.”

He set the dish down in the center of the table, careful not to burn his hands. “Well, let’s see if you still think that after you try it.”

You clapped lightly. “Finally. My stomach was about to give up on me.”

He walked around to you and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Sorry, Chef Hoshi was in the zone.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into the kiss. “Well, Chef Hoshi better sit his butt down before the dog eats his masterpiece.”

The two of you finally took your seats. You didn’t need to toast or make a speech, because your eyes did that for you. They said I’m glad we made it. They said I missed this. They said You’re here. You’re safe. You’re mine again.

“So,” Soonyoung said as he picked up his spoon, “last meal of the year. Anything you want to say before we dig in?”

You smirked. “Yes. If this stew sucks, I’m ordering fried chicken.”

He gasped dramatically. “You wound me!”

You both burst into laughter soon after, and finally, the eating began. First bites turned into second servings. He kept watching your expression as you ate, trying to gauge if you genuinely liked it. You kept exaggerating your reactions just to mess with him, dramatically clutching your chest, pretending to faint, moaning like it was the best thing you ever ate.

He played along, pretending to bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’d like to thank the Academy, my sous-chef Latte, and the eighty-seven YouTube tutorials I watched.”

Midway through dinner, the conversation quieted into something softer. You talked about the tour — what he loved, what he hated, which cities he wanted to take you to one day. He told you stories that didn’t make it to the phone calls, like silly things his members did and moments on stage where he thought of you.

You listened, with your chin resting in your hand, smiling as he spoke with his entire face lit up. This was your favourite version of him. Not the performer in front of thousands, nor the man on posters or in interviews.

Just Soonyoung. Just yours.

“And then,” he was saying between bites, “I tripped over a mic cord in front of like, five thousand people. Almost broke my nose.”

You snorted. “Did you recover like a pro?”

“Nope,” he grinned, “I laughed and bowed.”

“Classic.”

After the plates were mostly empty and Latte had finally been given a few small treats to calm down, Soonyoung stood up to take the dishes to the sink. You followed him, and the two of you danced around each other in the kitchen, bumping hips while rinsing plates and sneaking kisses. It was mundane, but to you, it felt like magic. The simplicity of it all. It was exactly what you were craving for.

Once everything was cleaned up and the clock crept closer to midnight, you both made your way to the living room. The lights were dim while the fairy lights twinkled faintly around the windows, and the television played a countdown show in the background.

You curled up on the couch with your legs tangled under a shared blanket, while Latte was fast asleep at your feet.

Soonyoung looked over at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. “This is the best New Year’s Eve I’ve had in a long time.”

You smiled. “Better than performing in Times Square?”

“Way better,” he said instantly. “Times Square doesn’t have you.”

You nudged him playfully. “You’re getting cheesy again.”

He laughed. “I’ve earned it.”

As the countdown reached its final minute, you both sat up slightly, watching the numbers tick down. You felt his hand reach for yours, fingers lacing with yours naturally.

10…

9…

8…

You turned to look at him, and he was already looking at you.

7…

6…

5…

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling your eyes well up.

4…

3…

“For what?” he whispered back.

2…

“For coming home to me.”

1…

And as the room erupted in cheers from the television and fireworks burst faintly outside, he leaned in and kissed you. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world to remind you he was really here. His hand settled behind your neck while his thumb gently stroked your skin, grounding you in the moment.

You responded without thinking, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Months of longing poured into that single kiss. Every missed moment and every night spent apart, it all lived in that kiss now.

And when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath a little shaky. .

“I love you,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear over the fireworks outside.

You smiled, your eyes damp, your heart steady. “I love you more.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t perfect. There were leftover dishes in the sink that both of you gave up washing, a dog snoring at your feet, and leftover stew on the stove.

But it was real.

And that was enough.

a/n; I was screaming while writing this!!! I want to experience bf hoshi

[minniesfiles]

FALLING OVER YOU

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing.

❧ PAIRING; jeonghan x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, alcohol consumption, drunk reader gets hurt, soft bf jeonghan, light humour, FLUFF

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.7k

𐚁₊⊹

▍12 MARCH 2025

The wedding reception was in full swing. The grand ballroom shimmered under golden chandeliers while laughter and music filled the lively air. You had been drinking since the cocktail hour, taking pleasure in the way the bubbles tickled your throat, and the coolness of alcohol making everything feel lighter and funnier. By the time the dance floor opened, you were undeniably drunk. Happily, recklessly, and joyously so.

And Jeonghan? He stood at a distance, leaning casually against the beverage bar with a glass of whiskey in hand. The ice clinked softly within the glass as he swirled the drink, but his attention was elsewhere.

You.

You were so radiant as you swirled and twirled, laughing with unfiltered joy. Your dress flared with every spin, which messed your hair from the movement, but you didn’t care. Neither did he. You were too caught up in the moment with the bride and your other old school friends, dancing like no one was watching.

But Jeonghan was. He always was.

You looked free. So genuinely happy that it made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. It wasn’t often you let go like this. You didn’t have a big circle of friends, and sometimes, that quiet loneliness weighed on you more than you admitted.

But here? Here, you shone while being surrounded by familiar faces, old friends who knew pieces of you that Jeonghan didn’t.

When another upbeat song blasted through the speakers, you threw your arms around the bride as you both squealed and jumped in excitement. The way you moved with an energy so infectious and your laugh ringing out over the music, the other guests couldn’t help but be drawn in by your carefree spirit. Some even joined in. You spun too fast, causing your balance to falter for just a second before you recovered with a hearty laugh.

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath while shaking his head.

“Your girl’s having the time of her life,” one of his friends teased as he nudged him with an elbow.

Jeonghan cracked a small smirk, lifting his glass to his lips. “She always does” he responded.

Tonight seemed a little different to him. He saw you drunk before. He saw you let loose and have fun. But this was a bit different.

Maybe it was the nostalgia in the air with the way you clung to the bride like you were sixteen again. Maybe it was the way your smile didn’t wavered all night. Maybe it was just you being unrestrained and absolutely captivating.

And Jeonghan? He was just standing there, watching. And falling a little more in love with you.

When the song ended, you doubled over, breathless with laughter. You gripped the bride’s shoulders for support as you tried not to collapse from the high of it all. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and nonstop dancing. The bride was laughing too, both of you hanging onto each other like teenagers at your first party.

And then, there he was.

You caught sight of your boyfriend leaning casually against the bar with the other guys. He held a drink in one hand, but his eyes were locked on you with that damn smirk. The same one that made your heart skip every time.

Your giddy smile widened impossibly more. You didn’t even think.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the bottom of your dress and hiked it up just enough to free your legs. Then you took off, running towards him like you were in some ridiculous rom-com.

Jeonghan straightened instantly, and his smirk vanished into something closer to alarm as his eyes scanned your legs.

Your heels. Your long, trailing dress.

“Y/n, slow dow—”

Too late.

Your heel caught the fabric, snagging on the hem with perfect, cruel timing.

Everything swayed.

Your body pitched forward as your foot twisted at an unnatural angle. Pain shot up your leg instantly. Your arms flailed out instinctively, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to stop the inevitable.

You crashed to the ground with a hard thud and a sharp, agonising squeal that silenced the space around you.

Jeonghan’s heart slammed into his ribs. The glass slipped from his hand and fell onto the bar top as he bolted forward, pushing past the other guys without apology.

You were already curled into yourself as your hands clutched your ankle. Your face was twisted in pain, and your lips trembled as you tried not to cry.

“Ow, ow, ow!” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the sharp sting started radiating from your ankle up your calf.

The music didn’t stop, and neither did the wedding festivities. Some people nearby gasped while some others laughed, but Jeonghan tuned them all out. His expression was pure panic disguised as calm, the way he always got when he was scared.

“Baby,” he crouched beside you as his hands were already reaching out to check your ankle.

“Are you okay?”

You cracked one eye open, lip wobbling as you tried to play it down. Tried and failed.

“I think my ankle is broken.”

It came out in a pitiful pout, and for a split second, Jeonghan almost smiled at how dramatic it sounded. Almost.

“Let me see.” His tone shifted, lower and more certain now. He gently lifted the bottom of your dress as he bunched it above your knee.

Your ankle was already swelling, flushed an angry red. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, careful not to touch the spot that looked the worst. “It might just be sprained, but we’re not waiting around to find out.”

“I didn’t even run that fast” you said with a slight slur, blinking at him.

“Why were you even running? Have you seen the heels you’re wearing?” he tutted.

“I was excited!” you whined, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “You looked hot standing there.”

He let out a breathy laugh — just a small one — as he slid his arms under you. “You’re so drunk right now.”

“I know” you nodded sagely before gasping. “Hannie! This is so bad. How am I supposed to dance now?”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, not missing a beat. His tone was firm and final, and it made your face fall and bottom lip jut out even further.

“But I love dancing!” you cried, leaning into him as he adjusted you securely in his arms.

“And I love you, but you’re not risking making it worse,” he said, kissing your temple gently as he stood up fully.

You squeaked at the movement and quickly curled into him like a koala, arms locking tightly around his neck and your cheek pressing against his shoulder. The music still pulsed in the background, but none of it mattered now.

“Guess you’re carrying me around like a princess for the rest of the night,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the comforting scent of his woodsy cologne.

“Guess I am,” he sighed, smiling despite the situation.

He carefully carried you away from the main crowd and into the quiet hallway just outside the ballroom, slipping through an open door and into a side lounge area that was set up for guests needing a break from the dancing. It was dim and quieter — just the way he needed it to be right now.

Jeonghan was painfully gentle as he lowered you onto the plush velvet sofa, moving as if you were made of glass. You winced as your ankle was settled on a throw pillow. The pressure was minimal but it was still enough to make your toes curl.

He sat beside you, his hand immediately finding yours. “Do you want me to find some ice?” he asked softly, brushing the hair from your face.

You nodded, “please…” your lips trembled.

He was up in a second, vanishing down the hallway like a man on a mission, and returned moments later with a small hotel ice bucket wrapped in napkins. He kneeled in front of you as he gently pressed the makeshift compress against your ankle.

You flinched at first, then sighed at the cool relief. “That’s better,” you breathed, slumping into the sofa with your eyes fluttering closed.

Jeonghan looked up at you, taking in the disheveled mess you were. Hair wild, mascara smudged from the tears you didn't let fall, lipstick faint on your lips after all the drinking and dancing. And still, his heart clenched.

“You know, for someone who can barely walk, you’re still kind of cute,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

You cracked one eye open and smiled lazily. “You think I’m cute even when I’m a drunk disaster?”

He chuckled and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Especially then. You’re very honest when you’re drunk. And a little clingy.”

“A little?” you scoffed. You sat up and immediately threw your arms around him again, clinging to his torso like a sloth.

“You’re lucky I didn’t propose on the dance floor.”

He laughed into your hair. “You kind of did, actually. Right before you tried to sprint in heels.”

You gasped. “No! What did I say?”

“Something about making me yours forever and then calling me ‘Yoon Jeonghan, Lord of Whiskey and My Heart.’”

“I hate me” you buried your face into his shoulder.

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “I love you. Every ridiculous, dramatic, beautiful inch of you.”

Your heart fluttered at that. And when you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, his expression softened even more. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw, and then his lips were on yours. Gentle and warm. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to rush, that you were safe here.

You kissed him back with the same quiet intensity, letting your fingers curl into his shirt. “Can we stay here a while?” you asked when you finally pulled back.

“As long as you want.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes lingering on your face like it was the only view that mattered.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He kept the ice pressed to your ankle, and with your head resting on his shoulder, you began to drift.

“Promise me you’ll carry me like this forever,” you mumbled sleepily.

He leaned down and kissed your temple again, arms wrapping around you protectively. “Even when you can walk again, I’ll still carry you if you want me to.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan’s heart skipped at the words — slurred and accidental as they were — and for a moment, he let himself imagine it: the real version.

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing.

[minniesfiles]

so wonwoo’s enlisted…what the fuck do i do with my life now???

[minniesfiles]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MY WORKS | drabbles / smau

— [JEONGHAN]

[a/n: anything below 2k words is classed as a drabble on my page]

━━━━━

✎ bruises and kisses

Jeonghan was always protective of you, sometimes to a fault. — 0.8k [h/c]

✎ falling over you

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing. — 1.7k [f]