notesofthemountain

[notesofthemountain]

Only a Summer Love

♡ Author's Note: english is not my first language, so I hope it’s still easy to understand and that the story comes across well. This is just fiction, and I really hope you enjoy reading it. It took me some time to write, so any feedback or comments are welcome — as long as they’re respectful. Thanks for reading! ♡♡♡

♡ Content: romance, angst, summer love, idol x reader, mingyu x reader, secret relationship

🌺🌊🪸🏄🏝️🌅🫧🌌☀️❤️🥥

Since you were little, you had believed the sea could heal everything. All you needed was to go there, sit on a rock, and watch the sun slowly sink, painting the sky a reddish orange. Just hearing the waves crash against the rocks and feeling the salty droplets on your skin was enough to soothe your soul—little by little.

But now, just feeling the wet sand beneath your feet made you want to cry.

Sitting all afternoon, staring into nothingness, didn’t help anymore. You cried and cried, letting your tears be washed away by the sea.

At this point, all you wanted was for those memories—etched into your skin and burned into your mind—to be washed away too. Because a part of you still wanted to believe that the sea could heal everything. That, with time, it would all become just another story to tell. That the pain in your chest would fade, just like the waves breaking gently on the shore.

You hoped it would fade. Just like he had.

Like that golden-skinned boy who vanished overnight, as if he’d never been there at all.

But you knew it had been real. Because if it hadn’t... why did it hurt so much?

—

Some time before…

When summer arrived on the island, so did the mornings and evenings you could spend swimming and reading in the sun.

You used to get up early—not moaning in bed like you did during thel year—but jumping out eagerly. You’d dress quickly and, with a simple cloth bag slung over your shoulder, run straight out of the house toward the sea.

You wanted to see the sunrise.

You loved those minutes when darkness slowly turned to light, illuminating the tropical island landscape.

At that hour, there was almost no one outside. Most people were still enjoying the comfort of their beds, and the only sound around was the peaceful rhythm of nature.

When you arrived, you went to your favorite corner of the beach and set your bag down. It didn’t take you long to slip off your pants, leaving just your bikini bottoms and an old T-shirt. You rarely wore the bikini top—it was a habit you’d always had.

The sea looked calm, though a light breeze made you shiver.

Now ready, you walked to the shore and dove in. You swam and swam, letting the cold water wrap around your body. It felt like heaven.

When the sun began to rise, you swam back to where your things were. Even though you were soaking wet, you never used a towel—within minutes, the warmth would dry you off.

You sat on the sand, waiting.

Suddenly, you heard fast footsteps, like someone jogging. You didn’t think much of it—until they got closer.

A shirtless boy, wearing only dark shorts, came running across the beach.

As he passed you, he gave you a slight nod.

But you yelped, realizing your wet T-shirt was now completely see-through. You instinctively covered your chest with your hands.

He stopped and raised his hands in apology.

“I’m sorry, relax—I didn’t see anything,” he said in english, with a foreign accent.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

But he was still looking at you. Then, from the backpack hanging off his shoulder, he pulled out a dark T-shirt and handed it to you without hesitation.

You didn’t quite understand the gesture. He could’ve just left, let the awkward moment pass—but instead, he offered you his shirt. It was true that, from your few belongings, it was obvious you didn’t have a change of clothes. Still, his action caught you off guard.

You took it, mumbling a quiet “thank you,” and he gave you a soft smile before jogging off as if nothing had happened.

As soon as he disappeared from view, you took off your wet shirt and slipped on his. It was too big for you... and it smelled good.

You felt your cheeks flush. And, for a moment, you wished you’d known who that boy was.

And why, after only a few seconds of interaction... you couldn’t stop thinking about his smile.

—

The next morning, you wore a full bikini—just in case. You’d be lying if you said that smile hadn’t shown up in your dreams. In fact, that’s all you remembered: that damn perfect smile.

This time, after your swim, you lay on the sand near a palm tree, and in the dim morning light, you began reading a new book you had just bought. You were so absorbed in the story that you didn’t hear the now-familiar sound of footsteps approaching.

But this time, instead of just nodding, he spoke.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

His voice pulled you out of the fictional world you were in, and you looked up just in time to see him smiling again.

You smiled back.

“Good morning.”

He nodded, looking like he was about to continue his run, so you quickly said,

“Thanks for yesterday. I— I don’t have the shirt with me, sorry,” you mumbled.

The truth was, you didn’t want to give it back. Even though you’d only had it for one day, something inside you refused to let it go.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. You can keep it,” he said in a calm, casual tone.

“Really? Well… thanks again,” you replied.

He smiled again and kept running.

You wished you’d had the courage to talk more. To hear his voice a little longer.

That night brought one of those typical summer storms—sudden, intense, but brief.

You were having dinner at a small beach bar when the first drops began to fall. Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a heavy downpour, drumming against the earth and sea with surprising force.

Honestly, you didn’t mind getting wet. You could have left at any time and walked home. These summer rains weren’t cold—just warm and drenching.

Still, something inside you wanted to stay, sheltered under the roof of the bar, accompanied only by the sound of the rain.

The place wasn’t very crowded—it was getting late, and at that hour they only served drinks and a few snacks. You were sipping on a cold lemonade, the ice soothing your throat.

Minutes passed. The rain wasn’t letting up.

Then the door opened, letting in a blast of humid air—and a tall figure.

You didn’t need to look closely. It was the morning jogger.

He was wearing a linen shirt and shorts, both completely soaked. His black hair clung to his forehead, and the smile that was usually full of energy now looked tired, almost like a grimace.

The man behind the bar greeted him and made a comment about the weather. He nodded and scanned the room for a place to sit… until he saw you.

And just like that, that smile returned.

He gave you a small wave and sat down at a table not far from yours.

A few minutes went by. You watched him as he read the drink menu with exaggerated focus, like every word mattered.

You noticed him. His broad shoulders, his strong frame… his wet clothes clinging to sun-kissed skin.

He was handsome. And from what little you’d seen of him, he seemed kind too.

Something about him drew you in. But you hesitated to approach. It had been a while since you’d felt this nervous around a guy.

Still… something inside you nudged you forward.

You stood up and walked over to him.

He was still reading when he noticed you, lifting his gaze with bright, curious eyes.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said.

You pointed to the stool beside him.

“Can I?” you asked, clearly wanting to join him.

“Sure.”

“What a storm… looks like it got you good,” you said, trying to break the ice. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

He smiled faintly and shook his head.

“No. I’m from Korea. You guessed from how I look?” he asked, half-joking, half-curious.

“Actually… your accent gave you away,” you teased with a smile. “It’s cute. So, you’re here on vacation?”

He nodded.

“A break,” he said, taking a breath.

“Well, this area is pretty quiet. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of rest,” you replied. Then, noticing how focused he still looked, you nodded toward the menu. “You don’t know what to order? You seem very serious about it.”

He chuckled.

“I’m still deciding. Any recommendations?”

He looked straight into your eyes when he said it.

That gaze caught you off guard. You had to clear your throat before answering—just to make sure your voice didn’t betray your nerves.

“Well… if you want something with alcohol, the mojitos here are pretty good. But if not, the lemonades are the best.”

“Then a lemonade it is,” he said with playful finality, raising his hand to order one from the bartender.

While he waited, he drummed his fingers lightly on the table. Then he turned back to you.

“Mingyu,” he said.

“What?” you asked, not sure what he meant.

“My name. Mingyu,” he repeated softly, almost shyly—like it was a secret.

“Oh… that’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“That’s nice too,” he replied, smiling again.

Just then, his drink arrived. You watched him take a sip. His throat moved as he swallowed the cold liquid. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh and gave you a thumbs-up.

“Very good.”

The rain started to fade, turning into a gentle murmur in the background.

You watched him quietly, heart racing. Your mind was screaming: Talk to him. Ask him something. Anything.

Because honestly… that’s all you wanted to do.

Great! Here's the final part of your one-shot, polished and natural in tone, keeping your emotion and rhythm intact:

“So… Mingyu, can I ask what this break is about?”

He looked up from his drink and nodded slowly.

“Uh… yeah. It’s a break from work. I don’t usually get long vacations, but this time… they let me stay away longer than usual,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, a little hesitant.

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten.

“Oh… I see. Well, if it’s something complicated, you don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to intrude,” you said gently.

He shook his head.

“It’s not that. It’s just… people usually don’t ask. I guess I’m not used to talking about it.” He let out a small laugh, the kind people make when they’re trying to shake something off. “Honestly, I needed this break. I’ve needed it for years. But it still feels strange.”

You gave him a reassuring smile.

“They say the sea heals everything,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay here. Enjoy the summer. If you let yourself… everything will fall into place.”

“Yeah?” he asked, like he wanted to believe it.

You nodded, certain.

“I promise.”

For almost an hour, you talked—about nothing and everything.

He asked you more about the sea, and you told him what it meant to you: how it felt like therapy, how it brought peace, how it was life itself. He listened intently and told you he’d never thought of the ocean that way before.

As the conversation went on, his smile became more relaxed, more familiar—just like the one you’d seen when he was running.

He apologized a few times for his English, sometimes repeating himself when he couldn’t find the right words. You found it endearing.

When you asked how long he’d be on the island, he said he had a couple of months—then he’d have to return to work.

You didn’t ask what kind of work. Something told you it wasn’t the kind of job people could easily leave behind. But you didn’t push it.

You liked the way his voice sounded when he spoke. Calm. Gentle. It had a rhythm that made you want to keep listening.

Just before you left, he asked if you’d want to see him again. Maybe go for a walk… or, if you were brave enough, try running around the island.

You laughed and said yes without thinking.

You exchanged numbers. He smiled at you, and just before you turned to leave, he gently touched your arm—a small, almost shy gesture.

You walked home with a strange warmth blooming in your chest and your cheeks sore from smiling.

But you didn’t mind.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

You fell asleep that night with your phone clutched to your chest, hoping—no, waiting—for a message from him.

—

- Hey!

- I'm Mingyu :)

- Hi, how are you?

- I'm good. Want to take a walk by the beach this afternoon?

- Sure, sure.

- Great. Wear a swimsuit.

- Okay.

- Both parts, don’t forget.

- HAHAHAHAHA, very funny. I won’t forget, don’t worry.

- See you later.

- Yes, see you later.

You were getting ready to see Mingyu. You were really looking forward to it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little excited.

You had agreed to meet near the bar from last time, for a walk.

You wore a short dress with colorful flowers and thin straps; underneath, your lavender swimsuit—complete, just in case you ended up swimming.

You packed a simple bag with sunscreen, a towel, and something to drink.

Your hair was loose, falling down your back, and you practically ran out the door, heading straight to the meeting point.

The walk was quick. You were moving at a slightly rushed pace, eager to see him.

A few meters away, you spotted him standing there, looking at his phone.

Every few seconds, he looked up and glanced around, as if searching for something... until he saw you.

He smiled.

And so did you.

You sped up until you reached his side.

“Hi,” you greeted, a little out of breath.

“Hey. Shall we go?” he asked, pointing ahead.

You nodded and moved next to him, keeping some space but matching his pace.

Compared to you, he was very tall, and you had to tilt your chin slightly just to look at his face.

As you listened to him talk, attentively, you thought: he’s a stranger.

Why were you so drawn to his presence?

You didn’t know exactly.

There was something about the way he spoke—simple, unhurried—that made you want to keep listening.

You already knew you liked his smile, the way his fangs showed, the way his eyes closed when he truly laughed.

He was just a stranger. One of many passing through the island.

But then... why couldn’t you stop looking at him?

After walking for a while, he stopped in front of one of the many beaches in the area.

There weren’t many people.

A few kids were running around in the sand. A couple of people were sunbathing, and others swam in the water.

It was still early.

The sun shone over the sea, and the only shade came from the palm trees leaning over the edges of the beach.

“Ready to swim?” he asked, pointing to the water.

“You don’t have to ask me twice. Of course.”

You stopped under one of those big, leafy palm trees. You set your things down and took off your clothes, revealing your swimsuit.

Mingyu ran toward the water and, before jumping in, motioned for you to follow.

You watched him dive in enthusiastically, like a kid on Christmas morning.

You walked in more slowly. The water rose up your body almost to your neck.

It wasn’t cold—the sun had warmed it during the day to the perfect temperature.

Still, the closer you got to him, the more your skin tingled.

You could see his broad back, glistening with water, and the way he pushed his hair back to keep it out of his eyes.

“The water’s nice, isn’t it?” he asked, swimming toward you.

“It is. It’s perfect, honestly. If you do this often, your soul starts to heal. It’s almost impossible not to.”

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you heard him whisper.

“Wish?” you asked, letting the waves rock you gently.

“Everything feels easier here. Calmer. Almost normal,” he said, gazing at the horizon.

“Yeah, it does. I like to think it’s because of the sea,” you said with a soft laugh, starting to swim.

You swam for a while longer.

At one point, you raced to see who was faster, laughing and splashing like kids.

Eventually, you spotted some smooth rocks not far away, and without much thought, you headed toward them.

He climbed up first and helped you up.

The rocks were warm under the sun. You lay down on one, the contrast with your wet skin creating a tingling sensation.

It was the perfect spot to dry off after the swim.

Mingyu sat beside you, hugging his knees.

“You know what?” he murmured, eyes still on the water. “It’s weird how quickly I trusted you... I mean, you could be a criminal and here I am with you,” he teased.

You burst out laughing.

“It’s a little late to worry about that. But don’t worry—I’m not.”

“And why did you trust me?” you asked, looking at him.

Mingyu smiled.

“It’s simple. I felt comfortable. I felt at ease. And as strange as it sounds, I liked being just a regular stranger.”

You frowned slightly as you listened to him.

He was a stranger. You’d never seen him before.

He laughed when he noticed your confused expression.

“Believe it or not, it brings me peace that no one looks at me, that no one judges every little thing I do... no matter how small, you know?”

“Shouldn’t it always be like that?” you asked, surprised.

“Mmm... not in my life,” he whispered, shaking his head.

He lay down beside you. Now both of you were staring up at the sky: blue, bright, endless.

“You still haven’t asked what I do for a living,” he whispered softly.

“Would you answer if I did? The other day you seemed a little closed off about it,” you replied gently.

“Ask me.”

“What do you do, Mingyu?” you asked, turning your head to him.

He turned to look at you too, and smiled.

“I’m a singer,” he said quietly.

“So... an artist? Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Then what is it that weighs you down?” you asked curiously.

He sighed.

“It hasn’t been easy. Not at all. And don’t get me wrong—I know I’m privileged. But sometimes... it’s not just about singing or dancing. It’s about selling myself. About giving my whole life away. And then I drown. Like I don’t know how to swim.”

And you understood.

Maybe you didn’t know that exact kind of exposure, but you knew the feeling.

The fear.

The fear of failure. Of taking one wrong step.

Of falling so deep that getting back to the surface seems impossible.

“I’m the only one watching you here. And I’m not going to judge you,” you whispered.

“That’s something I really appreciate, Y/N. Right now, it’s enough. If it’s just you looking at me. If it’s just the water around me instead of people. Then... it’s enough.”

You stayed there a while longer, letting the water brush your feet. Your arms nearly touched from how close you were.

When the sun started to set, you swam back to your things.

You got dressed slowly, as if dragging out the moment could stop it from ending altogether.

Then you started walking back the way you’d come.

The walk back was quiet. You spoke in soft tones, and this time you were walking a little closer together.

There was more silence than conversation.

But it was a peaceful silence. Natural.

One of those rare kinds that lets you appreciate someone’s presence without needing to fill the space.

You arrived at the point where your paths split to go home.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, glancing sideways at you.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied with a smile.

He hesitated for a second, as if unsure.

“Could we consider this a date?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“If you liked it... then yes,” he said, a little shy.

“Then it was a date.”

He smiled. That smile of his you liked so much.

He waved goodbye.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

—

During the following weeks, you saw each other more often.

The sun became witness, again and again, to your little impromptu routine: walks on the beach, hikes in the mountains, afternoons of shared silence lying under the shade of a palm tree.

During that time, Mingyu told you more about his work. He told you that he was part of a group, that being an idol meant many things. Too many, perhaps.

Most of the time he said it with a smile on his lips, as if it didn’t weigh on him. But you learned to distinguish when that same smile bent slightly downward.

There were days when he looked tired. Days when his words carried a gray background.

You, on the other hand, told him about your work as an editor. You described the office where you spent most of the year, full of plants you always forgot to water.

You told him about books, endless manuscripts, coworkers who complained about everything, and the smell of overheated coffee that permeated the place.

And he listened, amused and attentive, as if the simplest things—the ones you took for granted—were just as interesting and captivating as a story.

One of the last nights you saw each other, he hugged you for the first time.

It was soft, long. As if his body had finally found a place to fit.

His arms were big, enveloping. His breath brushed against your neck and he wished you good night in a quiet voice, as if he were uttering a secret.

He looked at you with that expression of his—calm, intense—and when he finally let go, you noticed that something inside you wanted to stay there forever.

Now, you had arranged to meet for dinner at the house where he was staying. It was the first time you went.

He told you he would cook, that he was good at it, and that he wanted to prepare one of his dishes for you.

You accepted without a second thought.

When you arrived at the house, he opened the door with an apron tied around his waist, covering a tank top that showed off his arms.

He hugged you instantly, as if an eternity had passed since the last time you saw each other. He let you in and led you to the kitchen.

A mixture of warm smells hung in the air. You couldn’t identify them all, but something spicy and comforting made your stomach roar without warning.

Mingyu laughed when he heard it.

“Relax, it won’t be long before it’s all done.”

You stood watching him silently as he stirred something in a pan.

His muscles contracted slightly every time he flicked his wrist, and at one point, he gave you a smile when he caught you watching so attentively.

He gave you a taste with a small spoon, and you were surprised at how good it was.

“My God, you’re really good at cooking,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He laughed sheepishly.

“Well, it’s just a hobby,” he replied as he offered you another spoonful. He smiled while watching you close your eyes in pleasure at the taste.

And you thought, if only all dinners were like that: warm, pleasant, easy.

When he finished cooking, he proudly told you about the dish: a beef stew he used to prepare, accompanied by a pasta he had wanted to try for a long time.

Your eyes sparkled at the presentation.

Why was this guy so perfect, you wondered. In the past few years, you had never met anyone like this.

When you sat down at the table, you ate quietly, enjoying every bite.

You kept praising him, and he smiled shyly, even blushing a little.

“Did you blush?” you teased him.

He put his hands to his cheeks.

“What? No, no... it must be the spice I put on the meat,” he muttered, a little nervously.

You laughed.

“It’s okay to accept compliments, Mingyu. The food is delicious, and it has to be said.”

Suddenly, he stood up slightly and leaned toward you.

He ran his thumb over the corner of your lips, slowly, softly, as if you were made of glass.

You froze, mesmerized by the unexpected touch.

“You had some sauce,” he murmured, bringing his thumb to his lips.

You felt the heat rise to your face, as if it was invading you from within.

“Now you’re the one blushing,” he said, pointing at you. You covered your cheeks instantly.

"You look pretty."

You blushed even more, and he laughed.

When dinner was over, you sat together on the sofa in the dining room, tasting a sweet dessert he had prepared.

The texture was smooth, the taste perfect.

You had your head tilted back, eyes closed, savoring every spoonful. He was close.

You felt the warmth of his body, his hand inches from yours, barely brushing your fingers.

“I guess you liked the food,” he whispered, turning his face toward you.

“Yes,” you murmured. “Too much, actually.”

And then he smiled.

That bright, carefree smile of his, the one that had haunted you since that first day on the beach.

You were so close you could smell him: a mixture of salt, sun, and something sweet that you would’ve liked to keep in a jar.

He ran his hand down your cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, as he looked at you with shining eyes.

He came closer. Very slowly. As if any sudden movement might break the moment.

“Would you let me kiss you, Y/N?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you answered softly.

He leaned in and brought your lips together.

At first, a slightly hard collision, stretching the first touch between your lips. Then he kissed you, slow, sweet—as if you were being kissed properly for the first time.

His lips were warm, and his movements numbed your mouth. As the seconds passed, the kiss deepened—faster, hungrier, afraid to separate.

His tongue licked your upper lip and he ran his hand from the nape of your neck to your jaw, lifting your chin, as if he were guiding you now.

As if he was showing you the right way to taste you.

As if you, in fact, were the dessert of the dinner.

The air was starting to run short, and you parted, breathing through your mouths, foreheads pressed together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he whispered, his hand still lifting your face.

“Me too,” you replied.

He pulled you close again and kissed you once more.

With the same hungry, desperate tone, as if you were about to disappear.

The kiss was a mixture of control, shivers, and tongue.

He held you by the waist and settled you on his lap, one leg on each side, placing one arm behind your back.

He ran his hand from your chin to the nape of your neck, forcing your head down to pull you closer.

Your hands on his chest and shoulders ran over his warm, soft skin.

He lifted you as if you were an extension of his own body—and carried you.

You arrived in his room.

A mixture of heat and passion enveloped you as you touched and explored each other.

He ran his lips over every inch of your skin he could see—over every mole, every scar—as if seeing you and discovering you was his only mission.

Your lips almost never parted.

You spent the night between the sheets, moving naturally, as if you'd been in bed with each other your entire lives.

There came a time when the only sounds were your breathing and the rhythm of your bodies.

Until finally, exhaustion caught up with you.

You fell asleep together, in each other’s arms.

His hand rested on your bare stomach and his breath on your neck.

His naked chest pressed against your back, and you felt his heart beating against your skin.

You closed your eyes, still intoxicated by the heat.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid to let yourself fall.

The next morning, a beam of light flashed across the room.

Now you were face to face with him. He was sleeping peacefully, breathing slowly and quietly.

His hair was a little messy from the times your hands had run through it.

You rested your head on his warm chest and smiled, closing your eyes again, hoping this dream would never end.

You didn’t know what would happen when you woke up, but for now, you preferred to let yourself be carried away by his warm, golden arms—and dream until you got tired.

You were no longer afraid to confess that you had fallen in love.

And that, for the first time in a long time, you had fallen completely.

—

During the following days, that intimacy that had intoxicated you that night repeated itself without pause, like a constant tide that came and went, dragging you with it. Whether under the moonlight or beneath the sun, your bodies sought each other instinctively, without question, without hesitation, as if everything that had to happen simply flowed.

You slept and woke together, always with your hands tangled in each other’s, with caresses and touches as the unspoken rule. You searched for each other ravenously, like animals who needed one another to breathe. Blinded by the magnetic pull of lips pressed to lips.

You spent most of the day together—on the beach, between salty swims and sweet kisses; between the sheets, where your naked bodies met like two perfect pieces that were always meant to fit. Floating aimlessly in the sea, letting yourselves be carried by the tide. Talking about life, your childhoods, your favorite things. About everything except the end. About everything except reality.

Because somewhere in the universe, an invisible clock was ticking. The countdown had already begun. But you didn’t see it. And if you did, you chose not to.

That day, you woke up late—later than usual—after a night of whispered words, skin against skin, and kisses that lingered. You decided to swim in a cove, a hidden place that was usually deserted.

The crystal-clear, warm water waited for you eagerly; it was so transparent you could see the sandy bottom without effort. You wore only the bottom of your swimsuit and one of his T-shirts that covered your thighs. He was shirtless, wearing a backwards cap, and helped you climb down the rocks to reach the secluded cove you both craved.

When you arrived, you dropped your things. You slipped off his shirt, revealing part of your bare skin—but by now, you no longer felt shy. You were alone, and he embraced you from behind, kissing your shoulders softly.

Already in the water, you swam and held each other under the sun. His golden skin glowed, and that smile of his seemed permanently etched on his face. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled you to his chest. You stayed like that for a while.

“You don't look real,” he whispered, running his hand gently down your back.

You laughed and looked into his eyes.

“I’m very, very real,” you murmured, and kissed him, tasting the salt on your tongues and memorizing the shape of his lips.

You stayed in the water for a long time—swimming, playing, kissing freely and shamelessly, as if there were no tomorrow. Most of the time, Mingyu kept his hands on you, touching every part of your body boldly, unapologetically, as if he already knew you by heart.

You let yourselves go. Just the two of you. No one else, nothing else.

And then, in a far corner—where the bushes grew taller and almost no sunlight reached—a silhouette appeared. A camera. Fingers. The soft, rhythmic sound of clicks.

One.

Two.

Three...

Without you noticing.

Until it was too late.

—

The consequences didn’t come until the next morning. Mingyu held your body close until he heard his phone vibrating. He ignored it. He didn’t want to let go just yet. But by the fifth time, he couldn’t look away anymore.

So many calls. So many messages. From everyone—his family, friends, band members, his manager, the agency.

He felt a chill.

Suddenly, he let go and slowly sat up, starting to read what was going on. His hands were shaking, and his pulse was racing.

There were pictures of you everywhere. You hugging him. Him kissing you, touching you. Swimming. Tangled together on the sand. You, everywhere.

Reality hit all at once—cold, violent—like a bucket of ice water shattering the dream. And something inside him broke.

He didn’t respond to anyone, because he already knew what was coming. He didn’t need to see more. His mind, frozen, could only think of you—his Y/N. He had forgotten that outside that paradise, the world still spun. He had been pretending to live a normal life. To have something real. He had been more naïve than ever. And now all he wanted was to disappear—and for none of this to have touched you. Not you. Not the girl he had fallen for.

He watched you sleep—so calm, so peaceful.

And it hurt. Because that peace was about to vanish.

He left the room slowly, but not before glancing back at you. Your face resting on his pillow, still dreaming in his arms.

He called his manager, who answered immediately, clearly worried, and told him the situation was serious.

He was supposed to be alone. On vacation. On a break. And now... this. Everyone was upset, everyone had something to say. The manager told him this needed to be dealt with immediately, and that it would be best if he came back to try to put out the fire all this had caused.

Mingyu couldn’t respond—his mind was still processing, still sinking.

When the call ended, he dialed Seungcheol.

“Mingyu? Is that you? Finally you answer, dammit,” the older man snapped.

“I’m so sorry, hyung. I wasn’t careful. I didn’t think. I don’t know what to do,” his voice came out shaky and broken, like a frightened child’s.

“It’s okay, Gyu. You have the right to live your life—I’ve always told you that. But I think it’s better if you come back now. I’m getting a lot of questions and honestly, I don’t have any answers. We’re doing what we can.”

“I know. I’m sorry for putting you through this.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Mingyu. If your family doesn’t take care of you, who will?”

Silence. Painful. Heavy.

“One thing, hyung… I don’t want to leave her. I can’t. Not now. After all of this… I just can’t,” he whispered, almost afraid.

“I understand,” he replied seriously. “But I think that’ll be harder than you think. The situation’s complicated now. Look—I haven’t seen all the photos, I wanted to respect your privacy—but it’s going to be rougher than you expect. I’m really sorry. I mean that.”

Mingyu sighed, uneasy, his throat tight. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He wanted to cry like a kid.

“You have to come back, Gyu. I’m sorry.”

Another silence. Breathing hurt.

“You looked happy in those pictures. You looked at peace with her,” was the last thing the leader said before hanging up.

Mingyu collapsed to the ground, on his knees, not knowing what to do. He answered a few messages from his family without saying much. Then tossed the phone aside and sank—he felt like he was drowning again. And this time, even if he swam, he wouldn’t reach the surface.

The sea didn’t heal everything.

You woke up a little later. Alone in bed. Mingyu’s side was cold, empty.

You put on one of his T-shirts and went looking for him.

You found him on the couch, biting his nails, nervous, his usual smile gone.

“Hey,” you said, approaching him.

He looked up, and you saw his red, sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried, taking in his state.

He swallowed hard. “I have to go,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned, confused.

“What? Go where? What’s wrong, Mingyu?” You sat next to him, but he stood up immediately. That hurt.

“Back to Korea. I leave this afternoon. I already have a flight,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

You just sat there, trying to absorb his words, hoping he was joking. That this was some stupid prank.

But the seconds passed, and he didn’t smile.

Then you felt it. That internal alarm. The one that yanks you out of a dream and drops you into cold, hard reality. The boy you’d fallen for was leaving, just like that.

“What? I don’t… I don’t understand. A flight? What are you talking about?” you managed to say, still dazed. “Mingyu, please, tell me what happened. Maybe we can fix it, okay?”

You stood up and took his hands, trying to make him look at you. You needed to hear that everything would be okay.

He looked at you and took a deep breath. “Someone took pictures of us yesterday… in the sea, when we were together. They’ve been leaked. Everywhere,” he said, voice trembling.

And you got it. You knew his job came with weight. He’d told you how judged he was, how demanding it all was. And now, your presence—your love—was not welcome.

“The public, the fans, the agency… they want answers. They want me back. They want me to fix it. I can’t stay, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“But… what about us?” your voice barely came out. “We can work it out. Can’t we?”

You saw him tremble and slowly shake his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if it’s right…”

“Right for who?”

“For you,” he said, his eyes glassy. “Because you are… you. So free. So unburdened. And this could break you. It could devour you whole. And I don’t want that.”

“But, Mingyu…”

“Believe me, Y/N. You don’t understand. It’s not worth sacrificing your life, your privacy, your peace… for this. For me. You can’t lose everything. Not you.”

“Please, no, Mingyu. Not like this. You mean so much to me. This past month has been incredible. It can’t just end… like this,” you gasped, short of breath.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said softly, heartbreak in his eyes. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before,” he confessed, caressing your face.

His hand was warm. His touch was both comforting and devastating.

“I should’ve been more careful,” he whispered. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to leave. Maybe… you’d still be just mine. Just us. No one else. But there’s no going back now. And I won’t let this consume you. Right now… leaving is the only thing I can do.”

You watched a tear fall down his cheek—and couldn’t hold back your own.

You sobbed, shaking. Mingyu closed his eyes and hugged you tightly, like he could shield you from everything. He stroked your hair and rested his chin on your head.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m really sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You stayed in each other’s arms for what felt like forever. Or no time at all. Time had stopped—and so had you. Mingyu held you until you had no tears left. Until your voice disappeared. You were tired. Empty. All you wanted was to go back—to that quiet bed, to that morning, to the dream.

Mingyu packed everything in silence. His suitcase. The house. He made sure everything was in order, as if that could somehow balance the chaos he was leaving inside you. He told you it was better if you didn’t go to the airport, so he walked you home to say goodbye.

At the door, it still didn’t feel real.

Mingyu hugged you one last time and kissed your forehead gently. “I have to go now, Y/N,” he whispered.

You didn’t know what to say. Nothing came out. Your voice was gone.

“I’m so sorry, love. I hope you’ll be okay. I’ll text you when I get there. If anything happens, call me. For now, I can’t promise anything,” he confessed. “But I want you to know that I love you, Y/N,” he murmured, looking at your lips.

You wanted to tell him you loved him too. But you knew that if you opened your mouth, the tears would take over again.

He gave you a look—one of those looks—and seemed to understand. He nodded and sighed.

He left a kiss on your cheek, then turned to leave.

You stood at the door, watching him disappear down the street. You didn’t go inside until he was completely gone. Your hands trembled. When you finally got the key in the lock, you collapsed onto the bed.

You wanted to sleep and wake up to find it had all been a nightmare—that Mingyu was in the kitchen cooking, or beside you smiling like always.

But something deep inside you knew: This was real.

—

Days passed, and Mingyu told you that he had arrived. He told you to avoid looking up anything about what happened on the internet —it was the best thing to do—. He also told you that he missed you and apologized again, as if that could comfort you.

You listened to him and didn't look at anything. Actually, a part of you didn't want to know anything anymore. A part of you wanted to forget, to not feel that pain in your chest that choked you and forbade you to breathe. Another part of you just wanted to cling to the pictures of the two of you together and cry yourself to sleep.

You did not return to the sea until a week later.

You didn't hear from him anymore. You did not write to him either.

You went to the sea every day, at all hours, hoping, praying, that the sea would cure you and that after the summer there would be nothing left... because after all, yours had been a summer love. One that doesn't last, one that comes without you asking for it, without you wanting it, but that leaves when your heart already loved it.

One that only let you see and live the love you would never be.

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗

[notesofthemountain]

In a Bubble

♡ Author’s Note: Hi! English isn’t my first language, so sorry for any mistakes. This story is purely fictional. Thanks a lot for reading! If you liked it, comments or feedback would mean the world to me ♡♡♡

♡ Content: romance, Jun x reader, idol x reader, secret relationship, fluff, comedy, 14th member of Seventeen, mention of alcohol, Chinese endearments (宝贝 = bǎobèi = “baby”/”darling”)

It was one of those rare days when you were miraculously free. Being a member of Seventeen came with a lot of responsibility and pressure, not to mention the discipline needed to stick to a strict daily routine. That’s why having a day just for yourself—to relax and disconnect a little from work—was a real gift.

You’d decided to enjoy a slow, quiet morning. After sleeping in without any alarms, you began preparing breakfast in your cozy kitchen, bathed in just the right amount of sunlight to make everything feel even warmer.

While you were mixing the pancake batter—the ones you made from time to time and that always turned out delicious—you suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist from behind. Lips pressed a trail of soft kisses along your neck. You smiled instantly and melted into the hug, until the person behind you murmured a sleepy greeting:

“Good morning, 宝贝 (bǎobèi)” he whispered, his face still buried in your neck.

You ran a gentle hand through his hair in response.

“Good morning, Jun. You could’ve stayed in bed a bit longer, you know? Breakfast’s not ready yet,” you whispered, still stirring the mixture.

“I just wanted to be near my girl,” he replied softly. “It’s not every day I get to have a peaceful morning like this with you.”

“I know, love. We do the same job… I know exactly how hard it gets,” you said, chuckling as you started pouring the batter into the pan.

He laughed too, then began telling you about a strange dream he’d had the night before, his eyes never straying too far from you as you flipped the pancakes like a pro.

It was mornings like this that made everything worth it. This was why you worked so hard. And you knew Jun felt exactly the same.

After two years together, you knew each other so well that one glance was enough to understand how the other felt. It had been a beautiful two years—though not always easy. The truth was, the little universe you’d built together wasn’t known by many. For obvious reasons.

In the beginning, those same reasons had nearly kept you apart. The fear of what people might say, of the consequences, of what might happen… it was always there. But once you both took the leap, you agreed to keep it a secret and stay as discreet as possible.

Dating Jun wasn’t something you had imagined when you debuted as the 14th member of Seventeen. 

You still remembered the first time you met him: he was a bit shy and quiet, but you’d always found him charming… and absolutely gorgeous. You weren’t sure if you liked him from the start, but you couldn’t deny there was something about him that pulled you in—something you’d never felt for anyone else.

With time, you became inseparable. Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—you were just friends, teammates. But as you matured, both as an artist and as a person, you started to realize something had changed: You liked him. Truly liked him. And that, for you, was a problem. Especially since you were convinced the feeling wasn’t mutual.

You were wrong.

Jun felt the same way about you.

The best part? There was no dramatic confession, no intense buildup. It just happened—naturally. You came together without forcing anything, like two puzzle pieces falling into place.

From that moment on, one thing was clear: neither of you was willing to let go of each other.

And that’s how a beautiful—if slightly unconventional—secret began.

-

And yes, at first it was a secret just between the two of you. A small weight you carried, in exchange for the joy of loving each other like teenagers sneaking their first kiss.

During those early weeks, you lived inside your own little bubble. Your eyes constantly found each other, full of silent glances and subtle smiles whenever you were close. You’d come up with the lamest excuses just to sneak into another room—to share a kiss or a quick hug without anyone around.

That secret—yours and yours alone—wrapped around you like a soft haze, making you a little too relaxed. And that’s when your behavior started to raise suspicions.

Reality hit sooner than expected.

Barely a month into the relationship, Minghao decided to speak up.

It was during one of Seventeen’s annual group dinners. Naturally, you and Jun were seated next to each other, and next to him was Hao.

Everything was going smoothly. The night was full of laughter, food, and playful teasing. One of those nights to remember.

To this day, you’re still not sure why you let your guard down that evening. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was just that overwhelming urge to be close to each other. Whatever it was, you two couldn’t stop touching. You passed things hand-to-hand when you didn’t need to, touched his shoulders like you were dusting off invisible lint, and under the table, Jun casually rested his hand on your thigh for long seconds—like it was nothing. It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but it was far from subtle.

Minghao, who had been quietly observing you both from time to time, quickly caught on: Jun’s hand on your leg. Your complete lack of reaction. Something was definitely different.

When you got up for a moment, Minghao saw his chance.

“Come outside with me for a sec,” he said to Jun, gesturing toward the door. “Need to talk.”

Jun followed, completely unaware of what was coming.

“What’s up?” he asked casually.

“Are you dating Y/N?” Minghao asked bluntly.

Jun froze. The dreamy bubble you’d built around yourselves popped in an instant.

He was speechless for a moment. But why lie? Even though it had only been a month, Jun already knew: this wasn’t some fleeting fling. What you had was real.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, firm and honest.

Minghao smiled, letting out a quiet laugh at the confirmation.

“I figured. You two actually make a really cute couple. Does anyone else know?”

“No. Just you. It’s only been a month. We haven’t even told our families yet. But Hao… please keep it to yourself.”

“Relax, hyung. I won’t say a thing,” he replied, more serious now. “But you really need to be more careful.”

Jun raised an eyebrow.

“Y/N was all over you every five seconds, and you were caressing her like a lovesick boyfriend. You guys seriously need to tone it down.”

Jun chuckled, imagining how obvious it must’ve looked to Hao—like you two were newlyweds. He’d have to tell you you’d been caught red-handed… But at least it was just Hao. All things considered… it could’ve been worse.

-

From that moment on, you felt comfortable around Minghao. Whenever the three of you were together, there was no need to hide anymore. Over time, even he got used to your relationship. Still, he occasionally scolded you both—claiming he felt like a third wheel or an intruder every time you met up. He’d often send you warning looks or cut your displays of affection short.

“All right, lovebirds,” he once said, dead serious. “I agreed to watch a movie with you today, but only on one condition—I sit in the middle. I don’t want to hear you making out during the film. Save that for later, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, amused. “But hyung… I thought you were past this phase. If you want, you can still have your Jun for a little while,” you teased.

Jun immediately joined in, flashing a playful smile. “Yeah, I can give you some love too. I’m generous.”

“What you need,” The8 snapped back, “is to learn how to control yourselves when someone else is in the room. Or have you already forgotten the rehearsal room incident? I had to come up with an excuse on the spot just so you wouldn’t get caught! I swear, I should start charging you for this.”

And he wasn’t exaggerating.

Minghao had covered for you so many times over the last two years that he’d even created a note on his phone titled Jun-Y/N Crisis. It included every excuse he’d used, ranked by urgency, plus a ready-to-use list of backup lies in case of future emergencies.

He completely understood why you were keeping the relationship secret. What he didn’t understand was how you could be so reckless sometimes.

The most recent time he had to save you was during group practice. That day, you and Jun arrived first—since you’d spent the night together and left at the same time. Finding the practice room empty, you thought it would be a good idea to… share a little affection.

Well. “A little” might be putting it mildly.

Without going into details, Jun’s pants and your shirt ended up on the floor during a moment of passionate weakness. You were still on top of him—bodies tangled—when suddenly, the door opened.

There stood Minghao. Horrified.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, covering his face with both hands. “I told you a thousand times! Not at work! Are you trying to get caught?!”

You screamed in surprise, and Jun threw himself over you to cover you as best he could.

“Sorry…” you mumbled, still lying on the floor.

Minghao was about to scold you further—when he heard Mingyu calling him from the hallway.

All three of you froze.

There was no time to think.

You scrambled to grab your shirt from the floor and Jun’s hand, then bolted out the back door of the room—into a small storage space occasionally used for presentations.

It all happened in seconds.

Yes, you could have just gotten dressed. Yes, that would’ve solved the problem. But your brain short-circuited from the panic and went with the only thought it could process: run!

Just as Mingyu entered the room, he spotted The8 standing awkwardly, back turned, and something on the floor caught his eye.

“Hey, Hao,” he greeted, then frowned. “Wait… are those Jun’s pants? They look really familiar…”

“No way. They’re mine,” Minghao replied quickly.

“Then… why are they just lying there?”

“I… tore them. Was about to change. You startled me, and they flew off instinctively,” he muttered, mentally facepalming at the terrible excuse.

“What? Where did they rip? I don’t see anything…”

“In the crotch,” he said flatly. “Yeah. There.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. Now leave. I need to change.”

“Then go to the bathroom. This is a dance studio, not a fitting room,” Mingyu replied, confused.

“I don’t care. Don’t make me mad—just go,” he barked, pushing Mingyu toward the door.

Once he finally managed to get him out, Minghao leaned against the wall with a long sigh and muttered:

“I definitely need to get paid for this.”

If anyone deserved financial compensation for covering your tracks, it was The8.

-

That evening, a few of the members had come over to your apartment for a dinner you were hosting. You were in the kitchen with Mingyu and Joshua, preparing the food, while the others were scattered around the living room—drinking something cold, playing games, or chatting.

Seungkwan, who always loved to snoop around, wandered through the space, checking out all the new things you’d added: he noticed the new lamp, the fresh flowers, your growing collection of figures… and, of course, the bookshelf that stood out among it all.

That shelf was one Jun had helped you install. In addition to books and albums, it displayed a few framed photos—some with the members, some group shots… and a few more personal ones with Jun. You’d actually taken down the more intimate pictures for tonight’s visit. Still, you’d left other items that, in hindsight, were a bit too telling.

One of your favorite hobbies was taking pictures of everything that made you happy—moments, landscapes, people… You’d then print them out and organize them carefully into albums. By now, you had dozens, filled with memories from your childhood up to your current life.

Seungkwan, always curious, picked up the first album in the stack. It was the most recent one—photos from the past year. He smiled at first, flipping through snapshots of you with your family. One photo in particular showed you hugging your parents’ dog with so much love that it made him chuckle.

But then, he turned the page.

And froze.

Like he’d seen a ghost.

There were two pictures with Jun. One was just the two of you together. The other… was of you kissing.

Seungkwan recognized Jun instantly—of course he did—and there was no doubt about what he was seeing. Minghao, who had been quietly watching from a corner, noticed Seungkwan’s stunned expression and walked over.

No questions were needed. One glance at the open album and Hao understood immediately.

Once again, you and Jun had left too obvious a trail.

Without saying a word, Minghao snatched the album from Seungkwan’s hands and shut it quickly. Seungkwan, still pale and wide-eyed, didn’t even react until Hao grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into a nearby room—far from any listening ears.

“That… that was Jun hyung and Y/N, right?” Seungkwan asked, breathless. “You don’t even have to say it—I’m sure. They’re dating, aren’t they?!”

“Lower your voice or they’ll hear you,” Minghao whispered urgently, gesturing with his hands to keep quiet.

“What?! How can you be so calm about this?! You knew? You knew they kiss when they’re alone? You knew they were together?!”

Minghao sighed deeply, already regretting not hiding the album himself.

“Yes. They’re dating.”

“What?! And you’re just telling me like it’s nothing?!” He stared at Hao like he’d revealed the world’s biggest betrayal. “But they seemed like just friends!”

“Just friends?” The8 raised an eyebrow. “Well, your definition of friendship is… something else. I figured it out ages ago.”

“I’m freaking out!” Seungkwan cried, clutching his head with both hands.

“Listen,” Minghao said, suddenly serious. “You’re going to keep this secret just like I have for the past two years. Got it?” “And then, after dinner, if you really want to lose your mind, you can go ask them all the questions you want.”

“Two years?!”

“Yep. Welcome to the secret club whose mission is to make sure no one finds out Jun and Y/N are a thing. Good luck.”

And with that, Minghao turned and walked out, leaving Seungkwan behind, spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis—hyperventilating as he mentally replayed every moment he’d ever seen between you and Jun… moments that, suddenly, made a lot more sense.

-

The dinner went on as if nothing had happened— Even though Seungkwan looked completely out of it, occasionally staring directly at you for uncomfortably long seconds. On the surface, everything seemed perfectly normal.

Minghao had already decided he would tell you about Seungkwan’s “little discovery” after dinner. He didn’t want to alert you now and make things awkward.

The food had been a hit—at least according to everyone—and cold drinks were flowing. Nothing too crazy, just enough to complement the hot dishes you’d worked hard to prepare.

The group chatted about recent updates in their lives as they savored the dessert Mingyu had made.

“I’m actually super excited,” you said at one point. “One of my childhood friends is getting married soon, and she invited me to the wedding.”

“Really? Is it the girl who cried when you debuted?” Jeonghan asked, reminiscing.

“Yep, that’s her. She asked me to sing at the ceremony, and I said yes right away… but I still haven’t decided what song to perform.”

“Do you have to bring a date?” Seungkwan asked, sipping another glass of alcohol.

“Mmm, actually, yes. I hadn’t really thought about who to invite yet, but yeah… I guess I should figure that out,” you answered casually.

Seungkwan gave you a curious look, then downed more of his drink.

“Really? I figured you’d already have that sorted… considering your situation,” he mumbled as he poured himself another glass.

Minghao, hearing this, immediately sensed trouble.

Seungkwan wasn’t drunk. But it seemed like he’d completely forgotten the very clear instructions he’d received.

“What do you mean by ‘my situation’? I don’t have a date yet... Unless you want me to bring you?” you joked, still clueless about where this was going.

That response surprised Seungkwan even more. In his mind, he was already shouting: What do you mean you haven’t invited Jun? He’s your boyfriend! You kiss him! You’re in love!

“But… why don’t you just take Jun?” he asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Jun? Well… he’s my friend, and if he wants to come, he can. But I hadn’t really thought about it,” you lied smoothly. Of course you were going to ask Jun to come with you.

“But… isn’t he your boyfriend?”

The question left his mouth—

And suddenly, everyone who had been looking anywhere but at you… turned to stare at your table.

You froze.

So did Jun, who barely managed an awkward “…what?”

Minghao covered his face with both hands and let out a loud groan. He knew Seungkwan wouldn’t last.

“What did you just say?” asked S.Coups, eyebrows raised.

“Boyfriend?” echoed DK, visibly confused.

You looked at Jun in pure panic, silently begging for help.

“Well… yeah. We’re together,” Jun said, reaching out to hold your hand under the table.

For the first time, there was no need to hide. He looked at you with the same certainty he had when it all began.

“Y/N and I have been dating for two years,” he said with a calm smile. “And we’re doing great. Really great.”

You were doing great. Two years had flown by, and not once had you regretted choosing Jun. If anything, it was clearer than ever that you wanted to keep choosing him—again and again.

“Two years…” Hoshi muttered, stunned, repeating it like he was still buffering.

“We were planning to tell you eventually… but I guess Seungkwan beat us to it,” you said, trying to laugh it off. Then you turned to the culprit. “By the way… how do you know?”

Seungkwan didn’t even try to lie. He pointed straight at Minghao.

“Oh, come on!” Hao exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Don’t you dare blame this on me. I’ve been holding this secret in for two years. To sum it up: yes, they love each other. Yes, they’re a great couple. And yes, I can confirm it, because I’ve had to endure them all this time.”

“You knew?” asked Mingyu, offended.

“Of course I knew! Unlike you, I actually notice things. It wasn’t that hard, genius.”

“Huh?! For real?!”

“All right, calm down,” S.Coups cut in. “I’m fine with you two dating, but we will have to talk about a few things later, okay?”

“Okay, hyung,” you said quickly.

Although Seungcheol had asked for calm, it lasted all of two seconds—because immediately, the floodgates opened.

Questions began flying from every corner of the table.

Minghao, at last, looked more relaxed. And you and Jun—despite the endless interrogation—felt the same.

The bubble had finally burst.

But you weren’t afraid anymore.

Because, in the end, you were still together. And best of all—you had twelve boys who would always have your back.

-

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗

[notesofthemountain]

The Favorite

♡ Author’s note: English isn’t my first language, so sorry if something feels a bit off! Thanks a lot for reading, and please remember this is just fiction — nothing personal ♡♡♡

♡ Content: platonic bond (platonic S.Coups x reader), 14th member of Seventeen, reader is S.Coups’ favorite, slice of life, light angst, fluff, a bit of humor

The practice room was quieter than usual. Even though it was early in the morning, most of the members were still asleep. However, the one brimming with energy was S.Coups — and it wasn’t just because he liked to start the day off right. No. It was because three members were late, and irritation was starting to crawl up his spine with every second that passed without them walking through the door.

It took ten minutes before a disheveled and anxious Mingyu finally rushed in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, hyung,” he apologized, bowing to the group leader, who eyed him with suspicion.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Got it? You can explain later what excuse you came up with for being this late,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

Mingyu nodded nervously and went over to the rest of the boys, who were still sitting on the floor waiting to begin rehearsal—except for Hoshi, who was already running through the choreography in his head.

“Seriously, where are these kids? I’m gonna have to count how many new gray hairs I’ve grown tonight,” S.Coups muttered sarcastically.

Jeonghan, watching him with an amused look, replied, “Well, that’s what happens when you’re the oldest and the leader, right? Plus, one of the people missing is your favorite, you know.”

At that, Seungcheol crossed his arms and responded with a casual tone, “I know. But I’m sure something actually happened to her. You know traffic’s always awful from her place to here. That’s understandable. Unlike Dino—he’s getting his ears pulled later for showing up late to work.”

Just as he finished speaking, the door opened, and a completely exhausted and sweaty Dino stumbled in, like he’d just run a marathon. Right behind him, you entered—calm and composed—sipping iced coffee through a straw.

Jeonghan let out a laugh and called Joshua over to watch the scene unfold. The two of them positioned themselves like they were at the movies—only the popcorn was missing.

“So?” S.Coups asked, glaring directly at Dino.

“Well, hyung, you won’t believe this, but I was walking and almost got hit by a car. Then some old lady needed help with her groceries, and then, then—”

“Enough. Spare me the excuses. I want the truth. The real truth. Got it?” the leader snapped, cutting him off.

You were still calmly sipping your coffee. Honestly, S.Coups did scare you a little in moments like this—mostly because you didn’t have any excuse. And the truth was... more embarrassing than you'd like to admit. You had stayed up watching a new anime, telling yourself each episode would be the last.

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

You ended up getting only three hours of sleep, and even then, you struggled to get out of bed. Then came the coffee emergency—you needed caffeine to function, and of course, you had forgotten to restock. So you stopped by a café on the way, which only made you later.

It only took a few seconds, but S.Coups gave you one of those leader stares that made you blurt out the truth immediately.

“I needed coffee, and the line at the café was really long. That’s why I’m late,” you said, clutching your cup nervously.

He softened immediately and gave you a small smile.

“It’s okay. Totally understandable. I need coffee to start my day too. Next time, just text me and I’ll bring one for you to rehearsal,” he said with a warm smile, motioning you over to give you a short hug.

Dino sighed, relieved that his hyung had finally calmed down.

“I didn’t get any coffee... you don’t have some to spare, do you, hyung?” he asked, walking over.

“Don’t even think about asking for coffee right now. Go join the others—we’re already starting late,” S.Coups said, scolding the youngest, who stood there, mouth agape at how quickly his leader had switched moods.

“But, I bet she stayed up all night watching something and that’s why she got delayed at the café,” Dino muttered, not wrong in the slightest.

“How do you know that? Do you live with Y/N now? She already said there was a line. Not her fault, okay?” S.Coups shot back, defending you.

Rolling his eyes, Dino turned and walked off toward the group, grumbling that he was only being scolded because you were clearly the leader’s favorite. And he wasn’t wrong about that either.

It was no secret to anyone that you were Seungcheol’s soft spot. He’d always kept you under his wing, like a mama hen protecting her chick from the world.

S.Coups gently ruffled your hair as you finished your coffee. You gave him a smile, and he looked at you with sparkling eyes as he guided you toward the others.

“Let’s go, sleepyhead,” he whispered with a grin that was only ever meant for you.

Jeonghan and Joshua watched with knowing smiles, watching how the oldest member always melted around you. Not that you had to do much to win him over. It must’ve just been part of the perks of being Seungcheol’s favorite.

-

This time, you were filming an episode of Going Seventeen—specifically, the MouseBusters episode. Naturally, you ended up as a mouse. And even though your hiding skills weren’t the greatest (and your running skills were worse), you still wanted to try your best and win.

Honestly though, just spending time and having fun with the boys was enough to get you excited to film this kind of content.

You’d asked the cameraman to let you carry the camera, because if not, it would be obvious a mouse was hiding there. You found a spot under some white tarps that covered sacks of material. It was a tight squeeze, but if you crouched and curled up into a ball, maybe you’d stay hidden. Hopefully. Because really, hiding there was more an act of faith than a solid strategy.

While making funny faces at the camera, you heard someone’s footsteps nearby. You couldn’t tell who it was, but you silently prayed they’d pass by without noticing.

No luck.

The tarp suddenly lifted, revealing your curled-up form.

“Got you!” shouted S.Coups, pointing a toy water gun at you.

But the moment he saw it was you, he laughed and lowered the gun.

You looked up at him, fully caught. Not that you could have escaped anyway—your running wouldn’t have saved you for more than three seconds.

“Since it’s my little mouse, Y/N, I’ll let you get away. But don’t tell anyone, okay? Otherwise, the guys will lock me up as a traitor,” he grinned, helping you to your feet. “Better find a new hiding spot fast—the others won’t take long to get here.”

Once you were out, he pulled you into a quick hug and chuckled at how cute you looked in the mouse costume.

“Why are you such an adorable little mouse?” he babbled, squishing your cheeks like you were a kid.

“S.Coups, come on. I’m not a little girl anymore. Can I go now?” you asked, glancing around to make sure no one saw.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’ve grown. But I still can’t help wanting to take care of you—”

“Hyung!” a shout cut him off. His eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you doing being nice to a mouse? You’re supposed to catch them, not cuddle them!” Seungkwan yelled, running toward you.

“Alright, Y/N, time to run. Otherwise, all my efforts to protect you will have been for nothing,” S.Coups whispered, giving you a few gentle nudges.

You bolted down the alleyway—just in time to hear Seungkwan’s complaints.

“Hyung! Again?! Stop with the favoritism and help us win. You want to lose or what?!”

“Calm down, Mr. Thomas,” S.Coups replied without shame. “Her cuteness broke all my defenses. I was attacked.”

Seungkwan groaned dramatically.

And yes, being S.Coups’ favorite meant he’d take your side—even when his role was to be your greatest enemy in the game.

-

You had just finished another rehearsal for an upcoming performance. The members were excited but drained—these last few days had been intense. Still, it had all been worth it.

However, during practice, you couldn’t help noticing how Seungcheol flinched slightly every time a move forced his knee. Ever since the ligament injury, he had been pushing himself hard to hide the pain you could still clearly see. Even though he strained his knee several times, he said nothing. And as soon as rehearsal ended, he quietly left after saying goodbye to everyone.

You were worried about his knee. It hadn’t been that long since the injury, and he clearly wasn’t fully healed. But he never stopped—he always wanted to be there, to give his all, even if the pain burned him from the inside.

You knew he’d be in one of the break rooms, checking on things that weren’t even his responsibility. That was just who he was—leader, even in silence.

So, before going in, you grabbed an ice pack to help with the swelling. Without knocking, you entered and found him sitting there, his knee propped on a chair, staring at his laptop in deep focus.

He looked up when he heard you and smiled—though it looked more like a grimace.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you? You looked good in practice,” he greeted you, motioning to the chair next to him.

You walked over and sat beside him with a gentle smile. “I’m good, Cheol. But I could tell you weren’t,” you said, pointing at his knee. He winced. “I saw how much it hurt. You don’t have to push through it if you’re not okay.”

You gently placed the ice on his knee. He let out a relieved sigh.

“Thanks,” he murmured, still staring at his leg.

“It’s nothing. But Cheol, you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. We know what happened, and we’re all here for you. If you need to rest, do it. We can change the choreography if needed. Just… don’t force yourself,” you whispered, noticing the worry still in his eyes.

“I know I should talk about it. But I’m scared I won’t be the same. This injury, this knee... it’s like a sign I’m not who I used to be.”

S.Coups had always been the one in control. Steady. Reliable. And you could see how this had shaken him—both physically and emotionally.

“Maybe you’re not the same. But you’re still our Cheol. And that’s what matters,” you said with a soft smile. “As long as we’re together, the rest doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think I’m still doing okay as a leader? That this injury hasn’t made me...less?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“You’re the best leader we could ever ask for. I’ll say that forever. You always look after us, make sure we’re okay, that everything’s done right—and none of that has changed,” you replied, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you hugged him sideways. “So please, let us take care of you now. Let me take care of you.”

He stroked your hair gently and hugged you tighter.

“You’re not less for needing rest. You’re human. And we love you all the more for it. To me, you’ll always be the one—the most worthy to lead this group,” you whispered into his arm.

Because yes, S.Coups was the leader who looked after everyone. But sometimes, he needed to be reminded just how amazing and valuable he truly was.

And yes—no one could deny you were a soft spot for Seungcheol. But by now, he had become yours too. Even if he only rarely showed his vulnerability, you’d always be there to hold him.

Because that was also one of the things that only he could have:

you, unconditionally.

-

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗

[notesofthemountain]

Self-Control

♡ Hi! Just a reminder that English isn’t my first language, so sorry if some parts sound a bit strange. I’m always working on getting better, so any tips or suggestions are super welcome! Also, everything written here is pure fiction, so please don’t take anything personally. Hope you enjoy the read!

♡ Content: romance, Jeonghan x reader, idol x stylist, teasing, flirting

You had just finished double-checking that the wardrobe for the next song was absolutely perfect, making sure the guys could change in seconds and that each garment served its purpose: to make them shine on stage.

Being the stylist for Seventeen hadn’t been easy. Exciting and rewarding? Definitely. But never easy. You always made sure the outfits reflected the essence of each era or song. Over time, you had also learned each member’s personal style. Sometimes it was a challenge, but you always tried to make them feel comfortable in what they wore. Aesthetics and impact were important, sure—but you valued practicality and comfort just as much. That’s why your mind was always racing, trying to piece together the perfect looks.

This time, you felt especially happy and excited. It hadn’t been easy creating thirteen outfits that shared the same energy, but you’d done it—and each one had standout pieces that you knew would shine under the stage lights.

The song was "HOT", so you aimed for something intense—maybe even rebellious. Inspired by biker aesthetics, you knew leather and jackets had to be part of the look. You worried about how practical leather would be, but since no one had complained (yet), you were praying it would all work out.

As you were finishing the final checks, someone called out: time to change.

The boys came running downstairs, and you handed out each outfit, staff buzzing around to speed up the process. When it was the last member's turn, he winked at you as soon as you handed him his outfit. If it weren’t for the pressure of the moment, you probably would’ve melted right then and there... but you couldn’t afford that.

Yoon Jeonghan never missed a chance to tease. He lived for it—whether winking, poking at you to make you pout, or catching you off guard with a tickle that made you jump.

“Will you help me put on my clothes?” Jeonghan asked, his smile crooked.

You knew that tone. You tried to deflect—it was too crowded with members and staff for this kind of play. You were used to his flirting, but not in front of everyone. You loved your job, after all.

“Don’t you know how to put on pants and a T-shirt, Jeonghan?” you replied, dryly.

He pouted dramatically. “What do you mean, Jeonghan? I told you to call me Hannie. But if you prefer… honey sounds good too.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” you scolded. “If you’re not dressed in five seconds, you’ll be dealing with a very angry Y/N.”

“Okay, okay. I love when you get mad… but I’ll behave. Just ‘cause we’re at a concert.”

He disappeared behind a curtain, then emerged a minute later. The leather pants fit him perfectly, and the black turtleneck clung to his chest and arms like a second skin.

He smiled when he caught you staring a second too long.

“If you wanted me in tighter clothes, you could’ve just asked, Y/N. I’d wear anything for you.”

You knew Jeonghan usually preferred looser clothes, so you’d worried about comfort—but he looked so confident, so at ease. Was it genuine, or just part of his charm?

“Come here. Let me help you with the jacket,” you said, and he came over, grinning like a mischievous child.

“Everything feel okay? Is it too tight?” you asked a little anxiously while you adjusted the leather jacket over his shoulders.

He leaned in, voice low. “For you, I’d wear anything, angel.”

He was so close you could smell him—feel the sweat sliding down his neck. You glanced up, expecting his usual smirk, but his gaze was intense. Playful? No. This was something deeper.

You looked away quickly, cheeks warm.

“Okay, good. I’m glad it’s all fine,” you murmured, smoothing the lines of his jacket.

“You’re blushing,” he teased, chuckling.

“I’m not…” You tried to play it down.

“You know you can’t fool me.” He murmured even lower.

He slipped one arm around your waist, like he needed to steady himself—but it was enough to send warmth shooting up your spine.

“Jeonghan, I’m working. If anyone sees—”

“No one’s watching. I’m just here so you can check the fit. No one’s going to say anything,” he murmured.

You didn’t answer. You finished checking his outfit and gave him a nod so he could return to the stage.

As you encouraged the other members and made sure everything was in order, you felt his gaze on you—burning, intense. He bit his lower lip.

And just before he left, he slyly brushed your hand and murmured: “See you later, angel.”

You wished him luck with your heart raced and then turned back to the wardrobe. Focus.

-

You weren’t surprised by the way Jeonghan made you feel. You liked him. Of course you did.

I mean, come on—this was Yoon Jeonghan.

But you liked your job, too. You needed to stay professional. And for the most part, you did a good job (you did a lot of self-control work whenever he was around). Lately, though… it was getting harder. And he seemed more determined than ever to break your walls.

When the guys came back to change into their final outfits—more relaxed, more them—Jeonghan came straight to you like a child, waiting for his turn. This time: a black tracksuit jacket and navy green cargos he liked.

“I knew my angel knew me well,” he murmured loud enough for you to hear.

You only had to say his name as a warning to let him out of one of his playful giggles from the changing table.

When he came out, he gave you another flirty smile and stepped close so you could knot his jacket. But he lunged at you, making you gasp. He wrapped his arms around your waist again, pressing gently—just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“Jeonghan! What did I say about personal space?” You pressed your hands to his chest, breath caught.

“What? I’m just helping you do your job,” he said with a wink, still holding you.

You blushed again. Your coworker—also your friend—laughed from nearby. A few members chuckled too. They were clearly used to Jeonghan’s antics.

“See? No one says anything. Everyone knows we belong together,” he said, eyes shining.

Honestly, at this point you were thankful that he was helping you stay on your feet, because his actions were making you lose control, and it would be quite obvious if you suddenly collapsed at a few simple words from him.

Somehow, you finished checking him over. The boys went back to the stage. As he passed, Jeonghan leaned close again.

“See you later. You’re not getting away this time, angel.”

You watched him go, stunned by that smile. 

You knew that, little by little, he was completely breaking down your self-control.

-

After the concert, the boys came down to thank the staff and change. You focused on putting everything back in place.

Jeonghan’s last words stuck in your head. You needed to leave—fast.

Bag in hand, you headed for the exit, searching for your phone to call an Uber and then—

You bumped into someone. You froze.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. His scent gave him away.

“Going somewhere, angel?” he asked, voice raspier than usual. “I didn't know you were suddenly in such a hurry”.

You looked up. There it was again—that damn smile that had haunted you all day. All month. All your dreams.

“Just leaving. My shift’s over,” you stammered, already knowing how hard this was going to be to get out of that situation.

He took a slow, deliberate step closer. Instinctively, you stepped back, your breath catching as your back met the cold, unyielding wall behind you. His arms then rose, framing your body on either side, effectively trapping you in a cage of warmth and tension.

“Without saying goodbye?” he whispered, lowering his gaze to your lips. “And here I was, about to ask you out for a drink.”

“Jeonghan, we shouldn’t…” Your voice wavered.

His eyes were still on your lips, dark and wanting.

You were on the edge of giving in to the temptation that was Yoon Jeonghan. And even though you were trying to keep control — really trying — it felt like you were about to break at any moment.

“Just let yourself go, angel. I know you want to too. Can't you see I'm falling apart for you every time I see you?” He whispered inches from your face.

Warmth spread through you again. Your heart was pounding.

“Jeonghan…”

“I told you not to call me that,” he whispered, brushing your cheek.

“Hannie…”

That did it. He looked right into your eyes and brought a hand to the back of your neck.

“Will you let me kiss you, angel?” he smiled. “If I don’t, I think I’ll just collapse right here—and you’ll have to call the boys to come pick me up.”

He was joking—but his gaze was intense, tender, real.

Your self-control was gone.

You nodded. His lips met yours—soft and tender at first, his lips moved hungrily, yet with a delicate touch that showed just how much he wanted you... and at the same time, how much he wanted to savor you.

And so did you.

You ran your fingers through his hair—his perfect hair—and he moaned quietly, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened as your tongues brushed, and you gasped at how much you wanted him.

You couldn't longer pretend he didn’t affect you.

You pulled away, gasping for air. He smiled softly as he gently brushed the hair falling across your forehead.

“So... will you join me for a drink, angel?” he asked, licking his lips like he could still taste you.

You smiled. He grinned back and took your hand, leading you toward the exit.

Your self-control had already completely fallen apart, but after that kiss, you were so dazed... you simply didn’t care. Not anymore. 

You knew that from this moment on, getting him out of your mind would be impossible.

Because it was Yoon Jeonghan.

And you had completely fallen for him.

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗

[notesofthemountain]

A Foolish Thing

♡ Author’s Note: English isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry if some parts are unclear or awkward. Writing this took more out of me than I expected but I really hope you enjoy reading it. Any feedback or suggestions are more than welcome! Please remember this is fiction, and not everything should be taken too seriously. Thank you so much for reading ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ Content: Angst, Romance, Xu Minghao x Reader, Reader is the 14th member of svt, mentions of alcohol

It hadn't been a good press conference.

Most of the journalists had focused more on your personal life than on your work as an artist or your thoughts on the upcoming comeback.

Even though the guys tried to steer the questions in another direction—and you yourself gave short answers to avoid giving them more to latch onto—the discomfort lingered.

As if your work didn’t matter. Or worse, as if it wasn’t interesting enough.

But it wasn’t just that. 

It wasn’t just the lack of recognition that weighed on you. There was also the growing distance between you and a certain member of the group.

The8. Or, well… Hao.

You used to always be together—the duo everyone recognized, on and off stage. But lately… something had shifted. You tried to hide it in public, smiled like always, kept your composure. But for the fans—and for yourself—it was obvious: something had happened.

And yes. Something had. 

Something you’d been holding back for a long time.

Something that slipped out on a night when your heart was more vulnerable than ever.

-

Flashback:

The dinner had been great. Warm food, cold drinks, and that perfect laid-back vibe that only happens with friends. You were tipsy enough to lose some coordination, but not enough to stop. Another drink didn’t sound so bad.

You were sitting between Jun and Minghao, both of whom were clearly more sober than you—and watching you closely.

“This is your last drink, Y/N. Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up with a hangover that pins you to the bed,” Hao warned, trying to take your glass.

You laughed at him, teasingly. “But I’m perfectly fine! Look at Hoshi—he’s so drunk he doesn’t even know what planet we’re on,” you said, pointing at the “tiger man,” who was hugging Woozi like a toddler while Mingyu filmed the whole scene.

“Even so, sweetheart… do you want to make a fool of yourself again? So we end up with more blackmail videos?” Hao said, nudging Jun to take out his phone like a threat.

“No, no, please don’t! I promise this is the last one!” you grinned, and Hao patted your head affectionately.

Spoiler: it wasn’t the last. A couple more followed—along with your usual excuses: “I have to enjoy myself,” “I’m young,” “Nothing’s going to happen.”And nothing would’ve happened… until it did.

By the time dinner ended, and several members were practically passed out, Hao was one of the few still sober enough to walk you home.

“Look at me, playing the responsible parent again,” he muttered as you walked together. “I’m seriously asking S.Coups hyung for a raise.”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“That’s why you’re my favorite, Hao. Because you always take care of me,” you whispered into his skin.

You didn’t see it, but he shivered. Your breath, your words, your closeness—it all hit him at once.

Once inside, Hao led you to your bed. You collapsed onto your pile of cushions and stuffed animals, smiling sleepily. He pulled a sheet over you, gently stroked your hair once, and whispered:

“Good night, sweetheart.”

But as he turned to leave, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him down until he was nearly on top of you. Your arms clung to him like a koala.

“Don’t go,” you whispered. “Not tonight.”

He froze. Braced himself on both sides so he wouldn’t crush you—trying to keep a little space between your bodies. “I can’t do this again if you’re not by my side,” you murmured against his neck.

You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. His scent—fresh, warm, undeniably him—wrapped around you.

“What are you saying, Y/N? Don’t talk nonsense" he asked softly. “Don’t say things you’ll regret tomorrow.”

Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe it was just the alcohol—in your system or his. But his heart was pounding.

“It’s not nonsense,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “Being in love with you, Hao… is that nonsense?”

Your eyes were glistening. Cheeks flushed. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it wasn’t.

Minghao swallowed hard. He felt heat rising to his own face. A jolt of fear hit him—because if there was one thing he knew, it was that you didn’t speak lightly. But… what if you didn’t mean it? What if it was just the alcohol talking?

“Y/N…” he whispered, reaching for something to say, to hold onto. But before he could say anything, you had already fallen asleep.

Your slow, even breathing filled the silence—along with his own racing heartbeat. He stared at you for a moment longer. Then, with a lump in his throat, he gently pulled away.

How could he tell you that love had never been a foolish thing to him? That he’d loved you for years. That he noticed everything. That you were the most talented, the most deserving.

But he also knew how the world worked. And that they wouldn’t make it easy.

With his heart clenched, he left your room. But not before leaving a note: “Take something for the headache. And drink water, please.”

If only things were simpler...

-

The next morning, you barely remembered what had happened. But you did notice one thing: Hao had grown distant. All week, he barely spoke to you.

You messaged him a few times, asking if everything was okay. His replies were short. Simple. “Everything’s fine.” But that didn’t explain a thing.

Until that one sentence came back to you: Love, a nonsense? In love?

You knew he wouldn’t forget it. And now, neither would you.

If only you’d kept quiet.

If only those feelings had stayed buried.

If only…

-

Present:

After the interview, you walked straight to the break room, avoiding everyone’s gaze. You could feel their looks—sympathetic, apologetic. Some had even offered you tea, snacks… anything to lift your spirits.

You sank into one of the chairs. Then, you heard the door open—and soft footsteps approaching.

You didn’t need to turn. You knew it was him.

The one who hadn’t said a word to you all day… but whose worried glances had spoken plenty.

“Are you okay?” Hao asked, standing in front of you, his voice laced with worry.

You sighed deeply before answering. Then looked straight into his eyes. You’d seen those eyes so many times over the years… But even just a few days without them had felt like forever.

“Of course not, Minghao,” you whispered. “Of course not.”

“I’m not okay. It’s not the first time they’ve dismissed my work. And I know it won’t be the last. But do you know why I’m really not okay? Because you’re not here. Not really.” Your voice wavered, but you held his gaze. “If you really think what I said wasn’t true… you’re wrong, Hao.”

It came out sharper than you intended—but you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You had to tell him. You had to explain.

“Y/N… you know I love you. You’re important to me,” he began.

“But not the way I love you, right?” you cut in. “I’m just your friend. Just your colleague. That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?”

Minghao’s face shifted—his jaw tensed. His expression turned serious. He stepped closer, as if your words had slapped him.

“And how would you know that?” he snapped softly. “Did you read my mind?”

“Y/N, I know I’ve been distant… but that doesn’t mean—”

“Mean what?” you shot back. “You’ve ignored me, Hao! You—of all people—used to always be there. I didn’t need to read your mind. Your actions said it all.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he took another step forward—close enough for you to smell him. That scent that still undid you.

“Y/N… if only things were that simple. If what you said was true— God, if it is true—then you have no idea.”

He gently took your face in his hands.

“If it were easy, I would’ve already locked you in a room with me and never let you go—not until the sun made us.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away. But think about our situation.I would never ignore how you feel. Never. But I would give up what I feel, if it meant protecting everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

You looked at him, eyes wide, breathing uneven—your body trembling with emotion.

“If you really mean that, Hao… Why can’t we face it together?” you whispered, your tears starting to fall. “Yes, work matters. But we matter too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am,” he whispered, cradling your face, catching your tears.

“You’re so talented… and if loving you ruins everything we’ve built—” His voice cracked. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry, baby.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” you sobbed, pressing your face to his chest. “Loving you is never going to be an obstacle. Not for me. Is it… for you?”

He held you tighter, shocked by your words. An obstacle? You had never been one. You were everything.

This wasn’t how he’d planned it. He just wanted to cheer you up. Maybe curse at that rude interviewer. Not end up holding you while you cried—because he had made you cry.

“You’re not an obstacle, Y/N. You’re everything to me. I swear,” he said, pressing his lips to your hair.

You kept sobbing, clutching his shirt. He ran his hand over your back, whispering: “I was a coward. A fool. I pushed you away and made you doubt everything. I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

“You have been an idiot, Hao,” you whispered, hitting his chest weakly.

“I know I have. But let me fix it, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll drop to my knees if I have to—just please… don’t cry anymore.”

You slowly began to calm down. The hiccup in your throat refused to leave, but you pulled back just enough to look at him. He wiped your cheeks and kissed them gently.

“Look at what I’ve done to you… I won’t make you cry again. I promise,” he whispered, brushing his lips across your skin.

“So… are you going to stay this time? Or run away again?” you asked, voice trembling.

He smiled softly and pulled you against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Y/N. I always have. And I know now—we can handle anything. As long as we’re together.”

With those words, you hugged him tightly and kissed his shoulder. You let him take care of you.

Yes, maybe things wouldn’t be easy. But you were in love.

And with love… you’d face it side by side.

-

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗

[notesofthemountain]

♡ This is my first piece of writing and English is not my first language. I hope it makes sense — I'm still learning, so thank you for your patience if anything sounds off! ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ Content: Angst, Reflection, Hoshi being a bit strict, OT13 / 14th member of Seventeen

We had been in the practice room for hours, rehearsing one of the new choreographies for the upcoming comeback. Despite all the time dancing, there were still a few steps I couldn't quite get right. I could feel the frustration building by the minute. The guys looked tired too — sweat glistened on their skin, and their shoes squeaked against the floor with every move.

"One more time. Some of you still aren’t hitting the step properly" Hoshi commented, giving me a quick glance.

I knew he was talking about me. Still, I held back any reaction and tried to focus on the choreography.

The song started again. One more time.

My legs followed the rhythm as best they could, moving the way they were supposed to — at least in theory. My body moved like it knew what to do, but my mind kept drifting further and further away, almost against my will.

When I reached that step again — that damned step — I messed it up once more. I felt Hoshi's gaze land on me again, this time more intense. He made a gesture, and the music stopped. Everyone froze in place.

“Okay, let's take a five-minute break and come back,” says S.Coups, exchanging glances between Hoshi and me.

Slowly, I walked over to a corner of the room and sank to the floor without thinking. My body was hot and drenched in sweat, but the floor was cool and soothing. The contrast made me close my eyes in relief, letting myself drift for a few seconds.

Loud, fast footsteps echoed toward me — someone was approaching, clearly upset.

"Could you at least try, Y/N? You should’ve had this choreography down by now. What have you even been doing lately?" Hoshi growled from above.

"I know. I’m sorry. I just… can’t get my foot to turn the right way. I swear it’ll work today,” I lied, even though I knew I was far too exhausted to keep going much longer.

“Fine. But this ends today,” he muttered, walking away to talk with Dino.

I closed my eyes again. Just for a moment, I let myself forget about the choreography, the sleepless nights, the skipped meals, and how I'd pushed my body so far it barely felt like mine anymore. And yet, I could still feel a gaze on me — distant, but intense.

The five minutes slipped by too fast, and the pressure to keep dancing returned just as heavy as before.

“This time, it has to go well. Okay?” Hoshi said, raising his voice slightly.

“Fighting!” DK cheered, lifting his arms and flashing everyone a smile.

The song started, and I moved swiftly into position — from the corner, to center-right, next to Joshua, behind Woozi. I stepped into the idol role, the one that had taken years of effort and tears to earn.

But suddenly, my body stopped cooperating. My legs, now slightly numb, couldn’t move or jump like they had earlier.

I didn’t let that stop me. I forced them to keep going, to move — even if I had to soak them in ice later and be unable to walk for days.

My drive to get everything right vanished the moment I had to cross paths with Mingyu. My right leg froze to the floor, like it was glued down. And when I insisted on pushing forward anyway, I fell hard — my knee took most of the impact, and my chin hit the floor with a dull thud.

For a few seconds, the music kept playing… until the leader shouted to cut it. A flurry of feet gathered around me.

Pain shot through my right knee almost immediately, but I didn’t make a sound. My face was still against the ground, and I didn’t move. Was I too tired to react? Or was it shame that held me still? Maybe both. My exhaustion was catching up to me fast.

Then I heard a soft voice. “Are you okay?” It was Jeonghan, gently stroking my head, his voice full of worry.

I didn’t answer, and panic spread through the group.

“Someone call for a car. We might need to go to the hospital,” S.Coups said, alarmed by my silence.

Mingyu and Wonwoo carefully turned me over, and I could see the shock on everyone’s faces.

“Blood,” DK pointed out, eyes on my chin.

Jeonghan cupped my cheeks, and it was then that I realized — I was crying. Silently, without meaning to.

“It’s okay… help is coming. You’ll be alright,” he whispered close to my ear.

Jun brought over a cold towel to clean off the sweat and blood, while Dino rushed to get water. I saw Hoshi standing silently nearby, his hands covering part of his face, trembling. He looked like he might cry too.

Despite the pain and the tears, all I wanted in that moment was to close my eyes and disappear. Jeonghan was the closest to me, and without thinking, I collapsed into his arms. He held me gently — warm and safe — and kissed the top of my head, his hand softly running through my hair.

I heard someone say the car was ready, that we could head to the hospital… but I had already blacked out in Hannie’s arms.

At least for a little while, I could sleep peacefully, safely — after so many nights barely closing my eyes.

For a moment, it felt like being that little girl again — tired from dancing and laughing, ending her nights curled up in the arms of those she loved, and waking up each morning with the hope of chasing her dreams.

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗