synity

[synity]

I REALLY DO GET IT

(Woozi x femReader)

*Angst · Romance · Hurt/Comfort · Soft ending Hidden feelings · Slow comfort Vulnerability*

what if

What if Woozi never said anything? Not that night. Not ever. What if he just let you leave? What if the silence that choked the room as you whispered “Would it matter if I was gone?” was the only answer you ever got? You waited. One more second. Two. Three. Heart thudding, eyes burning. But he never looked up. So you walked out, every step a silent scream. And he stayed. Head down. Fingers hovering over his keyboard. Still. Cold. Frozen

You had always known that Woozi wasn’t the expressive type. He didn’t text first. He didn’t say “I love you” every day. Sometimes, he didn’t even react when you dressed up just to see him. He'd just look at you with those unreadable eyes and say,

"You're here. That's enough."

But lately… his world seemed to shine around everyone but you.

You weren’t blind. You saw it. The way his eyes lit up at the studio, when the backup vocalist hit the right note. When his producer laughed at a joke you didn’t hear. When a trainee brought him coffee with a bow and a smile. They existed in his world. They understood it. You didn’t.

You tried. God, you tried.

You asked about his tracks. He said, “You wouldn’t get it.” You told him he looked good in his new stage outfit. He barely glanced your way. You waited up just to hear about his day he said he was tired. He always seemed tired for you. But never for them.

Even on nights when you dressed up for him putting on that soft gloss he once said he liked, wearing that top that used to make him blush all you got was:

“You didn’t have to do all that. You’re fine.”

Fine. Not beautiful. Not breathtaking. Just fine.

You started doubting everything. Your looks. Your voice. Your place in his life.

Sometimes, you stood in front of the mirror and stared at yourself, trying to figure out what you were missing. What they had that you didn’t. What made them worthy of his attention of the smiles, the spark, the conversations he used to share with you.

Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you weren’t interesting enough. Maybe you became boring. Or maybe… you were just something he outgrew.

And the worst part?

He never noticed you fading.

Not even when your smiles got smaller. Not even when you stopped asking to hear his demos. Not even when you cried alone in the bathroom with the water running just in case.

That night, when you sat on his couch, curled into yourself, watching him through a veil of unshed tears, you felt so far from him like he was behind a glass wall, laughing, working, living on the other side while you slowly drowned in the silence between you.

You stared at the back of his head his soft hair, the nape of his neck, the little curve of his ear where you used to press kisses before he left for work.

And all you could think was:

“He doesn’t love me anymore.”

You didn’t say it aloud. Not quite. Instead, your voice came out in a whisper, a cracked confession:

“Would it really matter if I was gone?”

You didn’t mean forever. You just meant absent. Not here. Not around. Not part of the life he didn’t seem to notice you in.

And the fact that he didn’t answer? Felt like your confirmation.

Like he heard you. And agreed.

You didn’t even realize how long you stood there. Your bag in your hand. Your heart in pieces. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he didn’t. So you turned. Took one shaky step toward the door

“Don’t take another step.”

His voice cut through the air like a blade. Cold. Firm. Sharp enough to stop you in place. But not loud. It wasn’t anger. It was fear.

You turned back slowly.

And that’s when you saw it.

His hands trembling. His laptop pushed aside. His headphones thrown onto the floor. His eyes red.

“You really think I don’t care?”

He was standing now. Not distant. Not hidden behind his work. He looked wrecked.

“You think I let anyone into my space? Into my time? Into my heart?”

He took a slow, shaky step toward you.

“You think I sit on this couch with just anyone? Sleep beside just anyone? Write songs while someone else sits in this room with me?” “I don’t. I never did. Not before you.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to cry. But it was too late. Your chest was already caving in.

“Then why…” “Why do I feel like I’m the only one you don’t see anymore?”

His face crumpled.

“Because I’m a coward,” he said hoarsely. “Because when I love something too much, I shut down. I hide it. I bury it so deep, no one can take it away from me.” “That’s what I did to you.”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

He stepped even closer now, reaching for your hand — holding it so carefully like it might break.

“I don’t look at you like I look at my work,” he said, “Because I look at you like you’re the one thing I don’t deserve.” “You’re not just a part of my world. You’re the only part that matters outside of it.”

You could hardly breathe. You wanted to believe him. You needed to.

But still, you whispered:

“Then why do I feel like… like I could be replaced?”

And something in him snapped.

He walked over to his laptop, hands moving with purpose now.

Click. Delete.

You blinked. “What…?”

“That demo,” he said, voice rough. “The one everyone keeps saying is my best track this year.” “I wrote it with her in mind the backup singer. She hit the note. She impressed me. But she didn’t inspire me.”

Another click. Gone.

“If a song makes you doubt your place in my life, it’s not worth keeping.”

You stood frozen, mouth open, heart pounding.

“You want to hear what is?” he whispered.

Then he turned to his notebook. Flipped to the worn, dog-eared page you thought he’d abandoned. You hadn’t seen him write in it for months.

But he had. Late at night. In silence. With all the words he never knew how to say aloud.

He handed you the page.

“This is you.” “Every line. Every verse. Every unfinished chorus.” “It’s always been you.”

Your eyes scanned the words.

Not polished lyrics. Not perfect rhyme. Just raw, honest, desperate thoughts. Written in smudged ink and messy loops.

“The girl who sits beside me every night. The only silence I crave. The storm I never want to end.”

Your tears hit the paper.

And suddenly he was there arms around you, holding you like he’d never let go again.

“Don’t you ever think you’re replaceable,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “They don’t know me like you do. No one does.” “And even if they did… I’d still choose you.”

Your breath hitched. You wanted to believe him. But you’d spent weeks drowning in silence and silence makes doubt louder. So you broke again, quietly, voice trembling:

“You look at music like it’s everything. You smile at strangers more than me. You tell them your thoughts, your passion you used to tell me that too.”

You looked at him really looked. There were dark circles under his eyes. His voice was raw. And there was something else, too. Guilt.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I didn’t look at you the way you needed. I stopped speaking the way you understand.”

He cupped your face in his warm, trembling hands.

“But I was never looking at anyone else. I was always looking for you in the quiet. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

He smiled weakly and cupped your face in his warm, trembling hands.

“But I was never looking at anyone else. I was always looking for you in the quiet. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You were crying. Harder than you had in weeks. And when he pulled you into his chest, you clung to him like your life depended on it. He held you close. Tighter than before. Like he was afraid you really would leave.

“I don’t want music more than you,” he murmured into your hair. “I want music with you.”

You closed your eyes.

“Then start showing me,” you whispered. “Because next time I fall apart… I might not wait for you to notice.”

He nodded. Pressed his forehead to yours.

“No more next times,” he promised. “Only us. From now on, I’ll make sure you know that’s enough.”

[synity]

All My Tomorrows Were Yours

bestfriend!Hoshi x femReader

-Angst, Slow Burn, Emotional Drama, bittersweet, romance-

For two years, Hoshi loved you in silence.

Not a light, fleeting love — but the heavy kind. The kind that settled deep in his bones. The kind that made breathing feel both easier and harder whenever you were near.

You didn’t see it. You couldn’t. To you, he was your sunshine your best friend who cheered you on, teased you, pampered you without reason. It was just Hoshi being Hoshi.

You didn’t notice how he always lingered a second longer when you hugged him. Or how his jokes were always gentler with you than with anyone else. Or how he always, always prioritized you, no matter what he had to cancel, move, or sacrifice.

You didn’t see it and he never told you.

Because he was scared.

If he said the words out loud, he might lose you altogether. And losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable.

So he stayed. Quiet. Loyal. Loving you through a thousand small acts you never recognized for what they truly were.

That night was supposed to be special.

He had made reservations at the cozy little restaurant you once pointed at, months ago, when you thought no one was listening. You had said you’d "kill to eat there someday." He waited three months to snag a table.

He bought you flowers your favorite, carefully chosen.

He even wore the shirt you once said made him "look like a prince."

Tonight, he thought, maybe tonight she’ll see me.

Maybe tonight I’ll finally be enough.

But the call came.

You were breathless, distracted. "I'm so sorry, Hosh, I can't make it," you said, barely hearing the crack in his voice. "Work’s insane. Plus, there's this new guy... super sweet... he's been helping me a lot lately, so my boss wants me to work late with him."

New guy. Sweet. Helping you.

Hoshi’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

He said it was okay. He said not to worry. He said he understood.

And then he sat alone at that table for an hour anyway just in case you changed your mind.

You didn’t.

He walked home in the rain. No umbrella. No flowers.

You showed up at his apartment later, soaked and smiling, takeout bags swinging from your wrist.

You always looked so beautiful to him even when you were messy, tired, late.

Especially then.

“Hoshiiii!” you called out, peeking around his living room.

He was standing by the window, back rigid, fists clenched.

Your smile faltered. Something was wrong.

"Hey..." you said softly. "I'm sorry again about tonight. I thought we could still have dinner here, you know? Like we always do?"

He didn’t move.

You stepped closer. "Hoshi?"

Finally, he turned.

His face the face that always melted into soft smiles for you was carved from stone now. His eyes were dark, glinting with something you’d never seen before: pain. Not the kind you fix with a joke or a hug. The kind you caused without even realizing it.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, voice low, breaking at the edges.

You blinked, confused, heart starting to hammer. "Get... what?"

He laughed bitterly a sound so unlike him, it made your stomach twist.

"Two years, Y/N," he whispered, stepping closer. "Two years of being there. Two years of loving you. Two years of holding my breath every time you smiled at someone else. Two years of waiting for you to just see me."

Tears stung your eyes. No. No, that couldn't be true. You would have known wouldn’t you?

"I watched you fall for guys who didn’t deserve you," he said, voice cracking. "I sat next to you while you cried over them. I fixed things when they broke you. I cheered you on when you chased dreams that didn’t include me."

Every word felt like a dagger to your chest.

"And you," he said, stepping even closer, "you never even looked at me the way I looked at you."

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"I told myself it was enough," he whispered. "Just being near you. Just hearing your laugh. Just being the guy you called when you were sad or bored."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and guilty.

"But it’s not enough anymore," he said. "I can’t pretend I’m happy you love everyone but me."

Silence suffocated the room.

"I love you," he said, a broken whisper. "I have loved you for so long it’s killing me."

You stood frozen drowning in the weight of his words.

And then something inside you cracked wide open.

Memories flooded back the countless times he showed up when no one else did. The way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you. The way you always, always felt safest with him, even though you never questioned why.

You had been so blind.

"I..." you tried, your voice trembling. "I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know, Hosh."

He smiled but it wasn’t happy. It was the saddest smile you’d ever seen.

"I know," he said softly.

You stumbled forward, reaching for him with shaking hands.

"But if I had known," you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your own stupidity, "I would have never let you wait so long."

You pressed your forehead against his chest, sobbing quietly.

He froze for a heartbeat and then his arms wrapped around you, tight and trembling.

"I’m so sorry," you cried.

He just held you, rocking you slightly like he was afraid you'd disappear.

"I love you too," you whispered into his shirt. "I think... I always have. I just... I didn't realize it until it was almost too late."

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his own tear-streaked.

"Don’t say ‘too late,’" he murmured. "Please."

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands.

"It’s not too late," you said. "It’s just... late enough."

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect you were both crying, both shaking but it was real. It was desperate and tender and so full of two years of missed chances that it made your knees weak.

When you finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

"You're mine now," he said, voice thick with emotion. "No more waiting."

You smiled through your tears. "Only yours," you promised.

The End or The Beginning?

[synity]

THROUGH YOUR EYES

Jeonghan x Photographer!Reader

The golden hour light spilled through the studio window, casting warm hues over the scattered canvases and camera equipment. You stood near the windowsill, adjusting the focus on your vintage film camera, the kind you loved for its imperfect beauty.

Behind you, soft footsteps approached. Arms wrapped gently around your waist, and you immediately leaned back into the warmth. Jeonghan rested his chin on your shoulder, his presence tender and familiar.

“Still chasing the light?” he murmured, voice low and affectionate.

You smiled. “The light’s always changing. I like to catch it before it disappears.”

He kissed your cheek softly, his fingers playing with the end of your paint-streaked apron. “You’re always working so hard… even your off days are full of colors and clicks.”

You turned to face him, the sun catching in his hair, making him look like something out of a dream. “And you’re always sneaking up on me,” you teased.

Jeonghan smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Can’t help it. My wife’s beautiful when she’s focused. You look like art when you’re in your world.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words. He always knew what to say genuine, thoughtful, like every compliment was wrapped in lace and sincerity. He took your hand, guiding you to the couch nestled in the corner of your studio.

“You’ve been taking care of everyone else today,” he said gently, guiding you to sit down. “Let me take care of you now.”

He ran his fingers through your hair, slow and soothing, eyes locked on yours with soft affection. “I love the way you see the world,” he said. “You find beauty in the quiet moments—just like the one we’re in right now.”

You leaned your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat calm, steady, home. With his arms around you and the golden light painting the walls, everything felt still, safe, and sweetly intimate.

“You’re my favorite photo,” you whispered.

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “Then I hope you frame me forever.”

Weeks later, you found yourself hand in hand with Jeonghan, strolling through the quiet streets of Montmartre. The cobblestones beneath your feet, the scent of fresh croissants in the air, and the distant sound of an accordion playing brought back so many memories it felt like home.

Jeonghan’s fingers intertwined with yours, warm and gentle. “You’re glowing,” he said, watching you spin slightly, your camera dangling around your neck as you snapped candid photos of little cafés and street artists.

“That’s because I’m back where I belong,” you said in fluent French with a smile, turning to him. “Paris me manquait tellement.” (I missed Paris so much.)

Jeonghan grinned, even if he didn’t understand every word. “I love when you speak French… it sounds like a song. You fit here like you’re part of the city.”

You paused and looked up at him, heart fluttering at the way he saw you. “I used to walk these streets when I was younger,” you said softly. “Sketchbooks in my backpack, baguette under my arm, cliché, I know,” you laughed. “But it was my world.”

“And now it’s ours,” he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Show me your Paris. The one only you know.”

So you did. You took him to the little bookstore tucked behind Notre-Dame, where the owner remembered you and greeted you in French. To the tiny gallery where your old photography mentor once held exhibits. To your favorite crêperie, where Jeonghan insisted on ordering tout en français, even if his accent made you giggle.

That night, you stood on the balcony of your cozy Paris apartment rental, city lights twinkling below. Jeonghan hugged you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you looked over the Seine.

“I think I’m falling in love with this place,” he whispered. “But mostly because it’s where you shine brightest.”

You turned, cupping his cheek gently. “Paris is beautiful,” you whispered back. “But nothing compares to you.”

And as the Eiffel Tower lit up in the distance, Jeonghan kissed you like it was the first time slow, sweet, filled with promise. In that moment, Paris wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. And it was yours.

tomorrow evening, you brought him to a little Afro-French café tucked away in the 10th arrondissement. You ordered for both of you in French, laughing when Jeonghan tried to repeat the dishes with his adorably off pronunciation. As the warm notes of kora music blended with soft jazz from the speakers, you both shared la quiche lorraine and crêpes Suzette, laughing, talking, touching like time didn’t matter.

On your walk home, Jeonghan wrapped his scarf around your neck before leaning in close.

“Marry me again,” he whispered in French.

You smiled, placing your palm on his chest. “Let’s do it in italia next time. Barefoot, drums in the background, and fabric flying in the wind.”

His eyes lit up. “I’d wear whatever you pick. Just as long as I’m with you.”

Under the twinkling lights of Paris, wrapped in the warmth of two worlds, he kissed you soft, respectful, and full of love. You smiled, knowing you were a woman of both fire and silk… and he was the one man who could handle all of you

[synity]

His salvation

His Salvation: Part 2

Mafia · Protective Love · Domestic Intimacy · Possessive but Tender

what if

What if the first time he saw you wasn’t through the lens of a surveillance camera…but across a café counter, his heart stopping at your smile instead of his enemies' breath? He’d still be the same.Protective. Gentle. Quietly obsessed. The kind of love that curls around your soul without warning, like silk around skin.He’d still learn your favorite snacks. Still remember the way you liked your tea. He’d still stay up to see you get home safe. Still buy you things you mention just once. But instead of mansion gates and bulletproof cars, you'd have: Cozy bookstore dates where he hides notes between pages.Grocery runs where he insists on pushing the cart while you pick the snacks.Random street kisses under flickering lamplight because “I missed you, and we’ve been apart for twenty minutes.”

Soonyoung was made to love you fiercely, no matter the version. Whether in designer suits or oversized hoodies. Whether with power in his name or paint on his fingers. You’d still be his world. He’d still worship the ground you walk on.

The world still feared him.

To the underground, he was still The Tiger cold-blooded, sharp as a dagger, and deadly with a glare. But behind heavy bulletproof doors, inside the grand mansion that overlooked the city…

He was yours. Entirely.

And you were his.

He never said “I love you” lightly.

When he did, it felt like a vow. A promise. Something eternal and dangerous.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he murmured one night, holding your hand while you lay in silk sheets, your head on his chest. “If you do, I’ll burn the world down looking for you.”

You didn’t flinch anymore at words like that. Not when they came from him. Not when you knew that under all the blood and fire he was just a man who loved you too hard.

His love languages were overwhelming in the most Soonyoung way:

“You’re everything to me.” “Don’t ever doubt how important you are.” “I don’t care about anyone else. Just you.”

His voice always calm. Low. Serious. There was never a joke when it came to you.

You mentioned liking a painting at a gallery? He bought the entire gallery. Said you liked a perfume once? He flew you to Paris to pick one yourself. Your favorite artist announced a concert? He bought front row tickets and the VIP lounge just for the two of you.

But your favorite gifts?

The little things.

Matching bracelets with a tiny tiger charm. A playlist he made for you that he’d never show anyone else. A photo album full of polaroids he took of you when you weren’t looking.

He was always touching you. Hand on your lower back in public. Arm slung around your waist like he was daring the world to try something. Thumb tracing your lips when you were sleepy. Kisses so intense they made you forget who he was—until you remembered you were the only one who ever got them.

And when you cried, he held you. Tight. Fierce. As if protecting you from the world wasn’t enough he needed to protect you from yourself, too.

You never had to open a door again. Never carried your own bags. He learned to cook your comfort food and ordered your favorite hot drinks before you even asked. He threatened your landlord just once for raising rent and bought the whole building instead.

“Don’t worry, baby. No one’s ever gonna take from you what’s mine to give.”

Hoshi was the kind of man who could make a grown man cry with just a glance, but then turn around and cry actual tears because you didn’t text him back for 20 minutes. He once kicked down a rival’s office door because they accidentally bumped into you at a party “She flinched. That’s enough for me.” He sends you flowers daily, but not normal ones roses with gold-dipped petals and little notes like “Thinking of you while committing arson”.

The scariest part? He’s so nonchalant about it. He’ll threaten someone’s entire bloodline with one hand while holding your pink glittery phone in the other, helping you pick out nail designs. When you told him a barista got your name wrong, he stared dead into your soul and whispered, “Want me to buy the franchise?” And the thing is... you believed him. Once, you jokingly called someone else “cute,” and he pouted for hours only to come back wearing the exact outfit that guy had on, like, “Is this what you like now? Tell me and I’ll make it permanent.” You’re not sure if you’re dating a mafia boss or the most dangerously obsessed golden retriever on Earth but either way, you’ve never felt safer… or more smothered

But the part of him that made your heart ache the most… was the softness.

The version of Hoshi no one else would ever get.

Like when he set up a surprise picnic on the rooftop under fairy lights and served you food he made himself smiling awkwardly, a bit embarrassed.

Or when he pulled you into a blanket fort in the living room during a thunderstorm, whispering dumb stories just to make you laugh.

Or when he traced circles on your back and asked softly, “Do you really love me? Even after knowing who I am?”

And your answer was always the same:

“Yes. I love you. All of you.”

One night, curled in his lap while a fire crackled, he said,

“I used to think love was a weakness. Now I know… loving you is the strongest thing I’ve ever done.”

He looked into your eyes like you were his lifeline.

“I kill for this city. But I’d die for you.”

He calls you “my pretty problem” because you're the only chaos he gladly welcomes into his life.

He keeps buying you shoes you never asked for, just so he can say, “That way, you’ll never walk away from me.”

You steal his oversized black mafia coat, and he lets you even wears something else so you can have it longer.

He once threatened a florist for messing up your bouquet, but then tripped over his words when you said, “You remembered my favorite flower?”

He sits through your favorite dramas with you, arms crossed, pretending he doesn’t care until he gasps louder than you at a plot twist.

You tried to cook a korean traditional dish for him once, and it was awful, but he ate it all and said, “I’d die for you, and apparently, from this food too.”

He lets you put glitter stickers on his gun case just because you said, “It’s giving ‘lethal but cute.’

The Tiger never needed saving. But somehow, you still became his salvation.

[synity]

who is synity?

🌸 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝒹𝓊𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔... 𝒮𝓎𝓇𝒶 🌸

Hi everyone! 🤍 My name is Syra, I’m 18 years old, and welcome to my little cozy corner of the internet!

I’m a K-pop and rnb lover, a singer, a story writer, and someone who finds happiness in creating dreamy scenarios, emotional plots, and soft chaos with your favorite idols 🫶 My ULT group is SEVENTEEN (💎 always!), but I also adore LE SSERAFIM, ITZY, and Red Velvet with my whole heart! 💃✨

I mainly write fanfiction for SEVENTEEN whether it’s mafia angst, sweet slice-of-life love stories, or magical fairytales, this page is where I pour all of my imagination and love for storytelling.

🎤 I also sing and make my own music!(rnb, ballad, trip-hop, alternativ rnb, jazz, soulful jazz) If you’re into creative vibes, you’ll feel right at home here. 🎶

This account is a safe, respectful, and welcoming place for everyone. Whether you’re here to read, request, or just scroll and smile you’re more than welcome.

📝 Requests are OPEN, so don’t be shy! I’d love to bring your ideas to life 💭 Feel free to reach out anytime!

Lots of love, Syra 💖

[synity]

His salvation

What if…

The coldest man in the city, a man with blood on his hands and a heart carved from marble, found the one thing in this world worth saving? What if a monster… found his angel?

They called him The Tiger.

*Mafia · Dark Romance · Obsession · Possessive Love · Soft for You Only*

Hoshi didn’t get that name from nowhere. Leader of one of the most feared mafia empires in the country, he was ruthless, calculated, and devoid of mercy. His smile was rare, and when it showed, it meant blood was about to be spilled.

People feared him. Rightfully so.

He had no family. No one close. No one that mattered. He believed emotions were for the weak. Love? A fairytale. He trusted no one.

Until he saw you.

It was a cold night. You had been walking home from your part-time shift at a café, headphones in, eyes tired, the city’s glow lighting your path.

And across the street, in the shadow of a blacked-out car he saw you.

You didn’t notice him. But he noticed everything about you.

Your smile when you helped a lost child. The way you paused to pet a stray cat. The way your fingers fidgeted with the zipper of your bag when you were nervous.

You were… soft.

Too soft for this dark world.

Too soft for someone like him.

Which is exactly why he became obsessed.

At first, it was from a distance.

He learned your name. Your schedule. Where you worked. Who you hung out with. He hacked your building’s cameras. Stationed his men discreetly to ensure your safety. And every few days, a little black box would arrive at your door.

A diamond necklace. A designer coat. A rare first-edition novel you once mentioned liking in passing. But never a note. Never a name.

“Creepy,” your friend joked. But you… you couldn’t lie. A part of you was curious. The gifts were never threatening always perfectly tailored to your taste.

And somehow, you felt eyes on you. Not dangerous… but constant. Protective.

Then came the night everything changed.

You were walking alone again, a shortcut through an alley you’d used a hundred times.

You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you.

Until a hand yanked you back rough, cold, and wrong.

You screamed. Tried to fight. But it was hopeless

Until he showed up.

The man was thrown against the wall in one move, a knife to his throat in seconds. And there he stood your savior. All-black suit, leather gloves, and dead eyes. Except when he looked at you.

With you… his expression softened. Just barely. Enough to make your breath catch.

He turned back to the man and didn’t even hesitate.

A single move. A choked gasp. Silence.

Blood splattered the wall. You should’ve screamed. Run. But you didn’t.

Because something about him… felt safe.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said quietly, wiping his blade. “Not to hurt you. To protect you.”

“Who are you?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer. Just stepped forward, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I’m someone who’s never cared about anything. Anyone. Until you.”

Your knees trembled.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only thing in this rotten world that makes me feel something.”

He took you home that night. Not to his mansion but to yours. He didn’t touch you. Just sat on the balcony, arms crossed, watching the stars like they had answers.

You offered him tea.

He blinked.

No one… ever offered him anything.

Especially not kindness.

After that night, he didn’t stay in the shadows anymore. He sent a bouquet of black roses to your doorstep. He showed up outside your work, leaning against a matte black sports car, eyes only for you. People whispered. The air around him screamed danger.

But he was gentle with you. Always.

One night, you asked, “Why me, Soonyoung?”

He leaned in, fingers brushing your jaw. “Because I would burn down this entire city just to see you smile.”

You became his weakness. But also his strength.

And though his hands would always be stained, with you he held them open. With you he was just Soonyoung.

Not The Tiger. Not a murderer. Not a monster.

Just a man in love.

[synity]

The rock of aeloria

The sun was beginning to dip, casting streaks of peach and gold across the ocean, yet Minghao couldn’t feel any of it. His fists were clenched in the pockets of his linen pants, his jaw tight. The argument with Hoshi still echoed in his head—loud, heated, stupid. Just noise.

He needed quiet.

So he wandered. Past the dunes, down the wooden steps, barefoot into the soft sand, and along the shore. The waves lapped gently at his feet, a contrast to the storm inside his chest. He didn’t plan to stay long. Just a walk. Just a moment.

But as he turned back to leave He heard it.

A voice. Soft, almost too faint to catch, yet mesmerizing. A song that seemed to wrap around the wind and sea, humming directly into his soul.

He blinked and looked out at the horizon, and that’s when he saw it.

A figure. Sitting on a jagged rock out at sea, just far enough to be unreachable, but close enough to steal his breath away.

Curly hair shimmered with saltwater and coral decorations like a crown. Her tail, an iridescent blend of turquoise and silver, swayed lightly in the tide. And she was singing. Singing with a voice that felt both ancient and new. Like the ocean itself had a heart, and she was its pulse.

He froze, heart pounding. It felt wrong to stare. And yet... he couldn’t move.

You The mermaid Noticed him. Your song faltered for a split second, lips curling into the smallest, curious smile.

“You heard me,” you said. Your voice was more than beautiful it was melodic, calming, unreal.

“I did,” he answered, barely above a whisper. “You sing beautifully.”

You tilted your head. “Humans don’t usually hear siren songs unless we want them to.”

Minghao raised an eyebrow. “So… you wanted me to?”

You shrugged, mischievous. “Maybe.”

He found himself walking closer to the edge of the shore, like a magnet. “You’re real,” he murmured.

You laughed, light and breezy. “So are you.”

From that day on, Minghao returned to the beach each evening. Sometimes you were there on your rock, waiting. Sometimes not. But he came anyway.

You told him stories of shipwrecks and moonlight dances under the sea, of coral kingdoms and mischievous sea creatures. He listened, wide-eyed, drinking in every word like poetry. In turn, he told you of books and museums and dancing in studios until sunrise. You were fascinated by the human world, and he was mesmerized by yours.

There were days when he brought music playing soft Chinese instrumentals on his phone and you’d hum along. Other nights, you’d sing, and he’d sketch you from the shore, charcoal and notebook in hand, trying to capture the way the moonlight loved you.

And one night, as the stars blinked into the sky, you asked softly, “Why do you keep coming back?”

He looked at you, eyes gentle and voice honest.

“Because when I’m with you… I don’t feel lost anymore.”

Your cheeks flushed, your tail flicked lightly in the water. “You say things like that, and you’ll make me fall for you, human.”

He smiled softly. “Then fall.”

You were a secret the sea never meant to share. And yet, Minghao was now part of that secret.

The days passed, and seasons slowly shifted. What started as coincidence grew into a quiet, sacred routine. Minghao would show up at dusk, barefoot with sand clinging to his ankles, and you’d already be there perched on your rock, humming to the waves or watching the sun dip into the sea like liquid gold.

“You’re always on time,” you teased one evening, braiding a strand of kelp through your hair. “Do you do this with all the sirens?”

He laughed, tucking his sketchpad under his arm. “Only the ones who sing to the stars.”

You blinked, heart fluttering. The way he spoke so effortlessly sincere left you breathless more than the sea ever did. “You have a way with words, human.”

He sat down near the water, where the waves kissed his toes. “My name’s Minghao,” he reminded, gently. “You can stop calling me human.”

“I like calling you human,” you smirked. “It makes me feel like I have a secret nobody else does.”

He grinned. “You’re the secret.”

You looked away, cheeks glowing, even as your tail shimmered beneath you. “You make me feel... different.”

“Different, how?”

You met his eyes. “Like maybe I wasn’t meant to be alone in this ocean.”

It was dangerous. Siren law was strict interactions with humans were forbidden, let alone attachments.

But you couldn’t help it. You found yourself waking up earlier just to swim near the surface and listen to the whispers of the wind, wondering if he’d come that day. The days he didn’t those rare times when rain poured or storms chased you both away you’d ache. Ache for his voice. His gaze. His soft smile.

He brought you gifts sometimes nothing extravagant. Just small things: A locket with a pressed forget-me-not. A book of watercolor paintings. A bottle of perfume that reminded him of sea foam and your laughter.

You’d return the gesture: coral necklaces you strung yourself, rare seashells from deep below, pearls that shimmered like tears under moonlight.

One night, the air was cooler. The stars began to scatter across the sky like lanterns. And something shifted.

Minghao stood with his hands in his pockets, more quiet than usual. You noticed the way his shoulders slouched, his gaze distant.

“You okay?” you asked, gliding closer to shore, your tail half-submerged in the glimmering tide.

“I had a dream,” he said softly.

“Good or bad?”

He hesitated. “You were gone.”

Your heart tightened. “Oh.”

“I called your name over and over, but there was nothing. Just… water. Silence.”

You moved closer to him. “Minghao…”

He crouched at the edge of the sand, so close your fingers almost touched. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what we’re doing. But it feels more real than anything I’ve had on land.”

You stared into his eyes, his voice cracking under the weight of his honesty. “Do you regret it?” you whispered.

“Never. I just… wish I could stay longer.”

You swam up until your fingers brushed his, and you laced your pinky with his. “You don’t have to stay forever. Just… come back tomorrow. And I will too.”

Weeks later, the day came when Minghao couldn’t hold it back anymore. He walked straight into the water, waves lapping at his chest, eyes fixed on you.

“hao—!” You gasped, swimming forward quickly. “You can’t!”

“I don’t care.” His eyes were teary. “I don’t care what the world says. I love you.”

You stilled. Time stopped.

“I love you,” he said again, a little more desperately. “I’ve loved you from the first night you sang. From the first laugh. From the first coral you gave me. I’m sorry it took me this long to say it.”

Your lips trembled. “I thought… I thought you’d never say it.”

He moved closer. “Say it back,” he whispered. “Please.”

You cupped his face, fingers wet and trembling.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

And you kissed him, breathless, it was full of stars and everything impossible.

That night, under a sky full of constellations, Minghao stayed with you on the shore, curled in a blanket, arms around each other. He traced the curve of your jaw, eyes heavy with affection.

“Will you sing for me forever?” he asked sleepily.

You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. “Only if you keep coming back.”

[synity]

If I’m Not Too Late

Hong Joshua x YN(reader)

"Slow burn, bittersweet tension, emotional confession, silent yearning, emotional depth, heartfelt resolution, friends to lovers, one-sided love, angst turned romance, emotional realization, near-miss romance, tender payoff, Unspoken emotions, gentle angst, romantic release"

You met Joshua in the quietest aisle of your favorite bookstore.

He was flipping through a worn copy of Norwegian Wood, humming to himself, and you stressed out from finals and law school readings couldn’t help but pause. Not just because he was handsome, but because he radiated calm.

“Good taste,” you said casually, nodding to the book.

He looked up, smiling in that soft, almost shy way he always did. “You too,” he replied. “Not many people appreciate Murakami on a Thursday afternoon.”

That was how it began. Not with fireworks but with a quiet moment, a shared book, and coffee afterward that stretched into two, then three hours.

Joshua was a local guitarist, known for the way he played acoustic sets that somehow felt like home. A bit of a mystery, quiet but kind. He became your comfort your constant as the months passed.

You studied at the café while he scribbled lyrics or strummed softly beside you. He walked you home on rainy days, holding his guitar case with one hand and your umbrella with the other. He always asked, “Did you eat?” Always texted, “Good luck on your exams.” Always smiled when he saw you, like just being in your presence made his day better.

And every night, when he dropped you off, he’d say:

“Take care, Y/N. I’m proud of you. You’re doing amazing.”

You’d laugh and say, “You sound like a boyfriend.”

And he’d smile. But deep down, it hurt.

Because Joshua was in love with you.

And he kept pretending he wasn’t.

Until one Friday afternoon.

You were laughing on the café terrace with a boy your classmate, all sunshine and loud jokes. Joshua saw it from across the street.

The smile on your face. The way you leaned your head back when you laughed. The way the boy looked at you like he wanted to be the reason behind all of it.

Joshua’s heart dropped.

He wasn’t angry. He was... defeated.

He stayed cool, of course. Still picked up your calls. Still showed up when you needed him. But his messages became shorter. His hugs more distant. He no longer lingered when he dropped you off.

You noticed.

“You’ve been weird lately,” you said one evening, eyes narrowed.

He laughed it off. “Just tired.”

But you knew him better than that. And when you asked again really asked he looked at you, eyes searching, and said, “Come with me.”

The beach was quiet. Golden hour melting into dusk. Waves lapping gently at your feet as the stars began to pierce through the twilight sky.

Joshua exhaled. Hard.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said suddenly, voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t love you.”

You froze. He continued.

“I told myself I was just your friend. That I didn’t care when you talked about other guys or smiled like that with someone else. But I do. I care too much. I think about you all the time. Every stupid little detail. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way you talk in your sleep, how your nose scrunches when you’re annoyed”

“Joshua—”

“No, let me say it all.” His voice was soft but firm, trembling. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time. And if I’m not too late… if there’s still space in your heart for me… can I be your boyfriend?”

You blinked.

Then... laughed. A little.

“Are you serious?”

He winced. “Was that—too much?”

You shook your head and stepped closer, cupping his face. “That boy,” you said. “He’s just my classmate, Josh. I laugh with everyone. But I love you.”

His breath caught. “You do?”

“I really do,” you whispered. “A lot.”

And then, under the stars and with the waves singing in the distance, you kissed him. Finally. Soft and slow and full of every unsaid feeling you both had buried.

Joshua smiled into the kiss, arms wrapping around your waist.

“This feels like a dream,” he murmured.

You giggled. “Then don’t wake up.”

And he didn’t. Not that night. Not ever again.

[synity]

Everyday Love, Extraordinary You

"What if…" you found someone who didn’t rush your heart? What if love wasn’t loud? Wasn’t dizzying? Wasn’t a storm? But instead a quiet sunrise, a hand always reaching for yours, a voice that says, "You don’t have to be strong today… I’ve got you."

You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, when Vernon went from that chill guy who made everyone laugh at rehearsals, to the person whose voice you now found more comforting than your favorite playlist.

Maybe it was the way he didn’t rush anything. The way he listened really listened and never tried to fix things unless you asked him to.

Maybe it was the fact that he always remembered the tiniest details. Like how you hate bananas in smoothies. Or that you need white noise to sleep, but only the soft rainfall kind, not the static ones.

"You're so specific," he’d tease. "It’s kinda cute."

You were the storm. Vernon was the calm. And somehow, you made perfect sense.

It was a random Wednesday when you had your breakdown exhausted, overwhelmed, everything building up all at once. You didn’t even call him. You just went home, flopped onto your bed, and let the silence eat at you.

Until you heard the jingle of keys. The soft creak of the front door opening.

He walked in like he lived there. Which, by now, he kind of did.

You didn’t even look up. Just let out a quiet, “Hey.”

He didn’t say anything back right away. Just walked over and sat next to you on the bed, gently pulled you into his lap, and let you bury your face into his hoodie.

“Bad day?” he murmured, rubbing soft circles into your back.

You nodded.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head.

“Cool,” he said. And that was that.

No pressure. No fixing. Just Vernon holding you while the world slowed down again.

Later that night, you were curled up in his hoodie still his favorite on you while he scrolled through his phone and let you rest your legs across his lap.

"You doing okay now?" he asked, glancing at you.

"A bit better," you mumbled, reaching for his hand. "You always help, even when you don’t do anything."

He smirked. “I do plenty.”

"Like what?"

He leaned down and kissed your temple lazily. “I show up.”

And God, he did. Every time.

On the weekends, he'd take you to random little places cafes that only locals knew, record stores tucked into basements, quiet parks no one else really cared about.

But with Vernon, they felt like secret universes just for the two of you.

One Saturday, you had a picnic under an old tree. Vernon brought your favorite pastries and three different kinds of juice because, "I didn’t know which one you’d want today."

You teased, “Wow, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

He winked. “I’m not flashy like some men, but I got my ways.”

Later, while lying under the stars with his fingers laced in yours, you whispered, “I feel safest when I’m with you.”

And instead of responding with some poetic line, he just squeezed your hand tighter and kissed your knuckles. That was Vernon. Quiet love. Deep love.

He wasn't the guy to flood your phone with texts or bring home huge flower bouquets every week. But he’d let you pick the music in the car. He’d keep your favorite hoodie folded on the passenger seat. He’d record a short “good luck” voice memo if you had a big day. He’d remember your favorite part of every movie.

And on nights when you couldn’t sleep, he’d lie beside you, eyes half-closed, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here,” until your breathing matched his.

You once asked him, “How do you know you love me?”

He looked up from his cereal, blinked, and said, “Because I don’t feel right when you’re not around.”

And then he added, “…Also, your laugh is the best part of my day. Every day.”

You blushed. “That’s kinda cheesy, Hansol.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but you like cheesy. Don’t lie.”

And maybe that was the magic of it all.

You didn’t need fireworks or fancy dates every week. You just needed Vernon quiet, calm, endlessly observant Vernon who loved you in the most real, effortless, heart-melting way possible.

[synity]

peace and love, the best combination

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t dramatic.

Your love with Mingyu was like Sunday mornings slow, warm, and full of soft light peeking through the curtains.

He wasn’t the kind to say “I love you” a dozen times a day, but when he did, it felt like the world stilled for a moment. When Mingyu said anything, it meant everything.

“Eat first,” he said one night, gently pulling you away from your laptop. “The rest can wait.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he cut in, placing a plate in front of you. “You forget to take care of yourself when you’re stressed.”

You looked down. Your favorite dish. Warm. Freshly made. Comfort in a bowl.

“I’m not just here to love the good parts of you, Y/N,” he murmured, crouching beside your chair. “I’m here for the overwhelmed parts too.”

You didn’t need fireworks with Mingyu. His love felt like candlelight quiet, steady, and always glowing in the background. He held your hand gently when you were anxious. He sat beside you in silence when you needed space. He was your calm in a chaotic world.

Some nights, you both sat on the balcony wrapped in one blanket, sharing tea and watching the city lights below. No need for conversation. No need for noise. Just Mingyu’s arm around your shoulders and the peace that came with knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

He always noticed things others didn’t.

Like the way your shoulders tensed up before a long day. Or how you always curled your toes when you were excited. Or that you liked your orange juice with no pulp something even you didn’t remember telling him.

One evening, after a hard day, you collapsed on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Mingyu walked over quietly and pulled your legs onto his lap. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. “Just let me be here.”

And he always was.

When you were at your worst — teary-eyed, tired, and doubting yourself he never tried to “fix” you. He just held you tighter. Whispered, “You’re doing better than you think.” Kissed the top of your head like it was sacred.

In a world that kept rushing forward, Mingyu slowed down for you.

He didn’t promise you fairytales. He gave you something better a calm, unwavering, real kind of love.

[synity]

A Million Ways to Love You

What if…

What if you were loved so deeply, so fearlessly… that someone would set the world ablaze just to protect your peace?What if your name was the heartbeat of a man who ruled every room he walked into yet chose to build his entire world around you?What if your smile could melt his stress. what if he was just a man, madly in love with the way you laugh, the way you think, the way you simply exist? What if he was ready to give you the world but more than that, he gave you his?

Seungcheol was the kind of person who would burn the world down just to see you smile. He wasn’t the typical wealthy, spoiled heir, even though he could easily buy anything and everything. His heart, however, was reserved only for you.

Every moment he spent with you felt like a beautiful dream he never wanted to wake up from. He had more than enough money to buy lavish gifts, the finest jewelry, and all the designer clothes in the world, but none of it mattered as much as the way he could make you feel with a simple gesture.

One evening, after a long day of meetings and events, he came to your apartment with an arm full of bags. You were on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, reading a book. He smiled softly as he set the bags down.

“You’ve been working so hard, my love,” he said as he approached you, cupping your face gently. “I wanted to spoil you a little.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “More than usual?”

“More than usual,” he confirmed, laughing softly.

He started unpacking the bags one by one the finest skincare, a luxurious cashmere sweater, a brand-new phone that you had been eyeing for weeks. But then, he pulled out a simple but beautiful gold locket, engraved with your initials. He handed it to you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“This... this is just because I love you,” Seungcheol whispered. “You mean more to me than all the money in the world.”

You felt your heart swell. You couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his affection, not because of the lavish things he bought, but because of the thought and care behind them.

Later that night, after you’d gotten all dolled up with his gift, Seungcheol took you to a quiet little rooftop garden. The city was alive below you, but above, it was just the two of you, bathed in the soft glow of the stars.

He spread out a blanket, set out a basket with homemade food simple, but delicious. It was moments like this that made you feel the depth of his love. He was always treating you like royalty, but never more than in these quiet, intimate moments.

“Sometimes, I think the world should stop for us,” he whispered, leaning back on the blanket, his fingers gently grazing your own. “You’re my everything, Y/N. I’d burn the city down for you. I'd destroy the world if it meant you’d be safe and happy.”

You smiled softly, your heart aching with warmth. You leaned your head on his shoulder, your hands intertwined.

“You don’t have to do anything like that,” you murmured, “as long as you love me, you’ve already given me everything I need.”

He laughed softly, his voice full of affection. “I love you more than I could ever express with words. But I’ll show you in everything I do. You’ll never feel disrespected or unloved, not in my world.”

Seungcheol had always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. His acts of service spoke louder than any word he could say. He made sure you had everything you needed from the best care in the world to being there when you needed someone to talk to.

If you had a bad day, he would be right there, giving you massages, cooking your favorite meals, telling you how amazing you were. Every word from him was full of affirmation. He would remind you of your worth, your beauty, your brilliance and the way he would touch you, gently, as if you were the most precious thing in the world, showed just how much he cared.

He would text you throughout the day, little reminders that he was thinking of you.

"You’re the most beautiful person I know.""I hope you’re taking care of yourself today, I’ll be home soon to pamper you.""Everything about you is perfect, and I’m so lucky to have you."

You would receive his messages with a smile, and sometimes, he would surprise you with a gift not because he felt obligated, but because he wanted to show you how much he treasured you. It could be a bouquet of your favorite flowers or a handwritten letter tucked inside a box of chocolates.

Seungcheol was wealthy, yes, but he never flaunted it. His money, his success none of it was about proving a point. It was all about providing, loving, and protecting the one person he cherished above everything else. And that person was you.

One night, after a long day of work, he invited you over to his penthouse. He was cooking dinner, a simple meal of pasta, his way of winding down. You walked into the kitchen, finding him humming to a song as he stirred a pot.

“Smells good in here,” you said, leaning against the counter.

“Only the best for you,” he replied, turning to flash you a smile. “After dinner, we’ll have a little movie night. Just you, me, and a bowl of popcorn, marshmallows, fruits, chips, and hot chocolate.”

You watched him for a moment, feeling your heart race. Even when the world demanded so much of him, even when he was working, creating, and conquering, he always made time for you. Simple moments like this with him in the kitchen, spoiling you with his care felt like the most precious treasure.

“Thank you for always making me feel like I’m the most important thing in your life,” you said softly, stepping closer to him.

Seungcheol turned to you, his eyes filled with nothing but warmth. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“Because you are, Y/N. You always will be. And I’ll spend every day showing you that.”

He wasn’t just rich in wealth, but rich in love. His life was about you. His world was built around you. He would always spoil you, always pamper you, always make you feel like the most important person in the world and, above all, he would never let anyone disrespect you.

Because to him, you were priceless.

[synity]

Almost, Always

The first time you met Wonwoo, it was raining.

Not the kind of rain that sends people running for cover but the kind that soaks in silence, the kind that smells like change and feels like memories you haven’t made yet.

You bumped into him at the corner bookstore. Literally.

“Ah—sorry!” you said, stepping back.

Wonwoo looked down at you, his dark hair slightly damp, glasses fogged up. He gave a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

He had a poetry book in his hands. You had the same one.

You both laughed.

Spring turned to summer. And like rain becoming river, you and Wonwoo found yourselves flowing toward each other without meaning to.

Late-night texts turned into coffee dates. Coffee dates turned into long walks and accidental touches. His words were always few, but his silences were full of warmth.

You were never official. But he held your hand when you cried. He remembered your favorite order. He said your name like it was something sacred.

One evening, on a quiet rooftop, you asked him, “Why does it feel like we’re something, even though we’re nothing?”

He looked up at the stars. “Because you feel like everything.”

And yet neither of you said the words.

Not when you should have.

The thing is… You were offered an internship abroad. A chance to chase your dreams. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

And he… He had his comeback. He had rehearsals, recordings, sleepless nights.

You stood in front of him in a quiet hallway, holding your suitcase.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered.

Wonwoo nodded slowly, his jaw tense. “I know.”

You blinked back tears. “So that’s it?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, like he wanted to memorize every freckle, every blink, every breath.

“If we’re meant to be,” he said, voice low and trembling, “we’ll find our way back. But right now… we’re both chasing light in different directions.”

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream. You wanted to stay.

But instead, you just said, “I’ll wait for you.”

And he smiled sad, beautiful, heart-wrenching. “Don’t.”

Years passed.

You saw him sometimes on TV, on billboards, in the back of your mind.

He looked the same, but something was always missing in his eyes.

You dated others. He did too.

But it never felt like home.

One night, after a long day, you opened your inbox.

There was one message.

Wonwoo: “If it were another lifetime… I would’ve asked you to stay. But this one needed us to let go. I hope you’re happy, Y/N. You deserve that much.”

You stared at the screen, the ache in your chest blooming again.

You whispered into the empty room:

“I still love you.”

But even then… they’re still love.

part 2?

[synity]

Don’t Tell My Brother (Oh Wait… He Knows)

The stage lights dimmed as the final note of SEVENTEEN's concert echoed through the venue. The crowd roared, lightsticks swaying like stars in a sea of midnight blue. You stood off to the side of the stage, breathless and glowing from the adrenaline of dancing through a flawless performance.

Your eyes instinctively found him.

DK your sunshine, your secret, your boyfriend of one year. He grinned from the main stage, sweat-slick hair sticking to his forehead, eyes scanning until he found you, too. He gave you a discreet thumbs-up and mouthed, "You did amazing."

You smiled back, biting your lip to hide it. You weren’t supposed to make it obvious. No one knew about your relationship.

Well… almost no one.

The members knew, of course. Hoshi caught on first—he’d walked in on you two sharing earbuds in the practice room. Mingyu had noticed how DK always saved you a seat at lunch. Joshua just smiled one day and said, “You look happier lately,” with that knowing twinkle in his eyes.

They all promised to keep it quiet.

Except for one person.

S.Coups. Your older brother. Leader of SEVENTEEN. Overprotective, dramatic, slightly terrifying when it comes to you, S.Coups.

He didn’t know.

Not yet.

But all that changed the night of the anniversary surprise.

After the concert, you snuck back into the studio while everyone was unwinding. DK had set up a tiny surprise a soft little cake from your favorite café, fairy lights strung lazily across the mirrors, and a small plushie holding a note that said, "Happy 1 Year, my star."

You turned around to see him standing there with that shy smile you loved. “You like it?” he asked, walking up with his hands behind his back.

“Are you kidding?” you laughed, heart swelling. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I—”

“what the hell!”

You both froze like statues.

Your head turned very slowly toward the doorway, where S.Coups stood, mouth open, one eyebrow twitching, and a water bottle dropping from his hand.

“No… way…” he muttered, pointing between you two. “You...you dating my sister!?"

“S-Seungcheol-hyung—!” DK jumped back like he touched fire. “I was gonna tell you no wait we were gonna tell you, I swear, I didn't mean to hide it, I mean I did, but—”

You stepped in, holding your brother’s arm. “Cheol, calm down—”

“Calm down?” he shrieked. “I’m not mad that you’re dating someone. I’m mad that it’s him!”

DK flinched. “Hey!”

“No offense,” Seungcheol barked, “but if anyone’s gonna date my sister, they better be ready to treat her like the queen of the freakin' universe. Do you know how precious she is? I used to carry her on my back to school, and now you’re holding her hand behind my back?”

“Hyung, I love her,” DK said, voice softer, but firm. “I’ve loved her since the first time we danced together. I waited a year just to ask her out. I never wanted to disrespect you or her. I’ve been planning to tell you.”

Seungcheol crossed his arms. “...And how exactly have you been treating her, huh?”

You nudged DK, giving him a look.

He cleared his throat. “I carry her bag after practice. I give her back massages when she’s sore. I bought her heated socks last winter so her feet wouldn’t get cold during rehearsals. I keep snacks in my locker just in case she forgets to eat. I learned how to braid hair for her.”

There was a pause.

“...Tch,” S.Coups muttered. “Not bad.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

He sighed dramatically, then turned to you. “Look. If he ever makes you cry, I will dropkick him on live broadcast. But until then...” He looked back at DK with narrowed eyes. “You better keep spoiling her. With everything. Food, gifts, love, all of it. She deserves it. And don’t think for a second I won’t one-up you just to remind her I’m still the better man.”

DK blinked. “You want to spoil your sister more than her boyfriend?”

“You bet your mic stand I do.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, heart full, cheeks hurting from smiling.

The next morning, the whole group was gathered in the dorm kitchen. Jeonghan smirked, leaning into S.Coups. “So, hyung, did you cry when you found out?”

“I didn’t cry,” Seungcheol grumbled.

“You kind of did,” Minghao added casually. “You said, ‘My baby’s growing up.’”

DK walked in with you, carrying your favorite smoothie and a breakfast sandwich. “Good morning~” he sang. “For you, my queen.”

Seungcheol threw a pillow at his head. “Don’t call her that in front of me!”

You giggled, sitting beside your boyfriend, who winked at you when no one was looking.

Secret? Not anymore.

But it didn’t matter.

You were loved. Truly, sweetly, and loudly.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything

[Jeju Island – Two Days Later]

The sky was painted in soft watercolor pinks and oranges as SEVENTEEN's van pulled up to the beachside house in Jeju. You stretched your arms out as you stepped out, salty breeze ruffling your hoodie. Everyone was excited for this mini getaway a break from hectic schedules, a chance to breathe.

You didn’t even have time to take two steps before a pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Finally,” DK whispered into your ear. “I can hold you without checking over my shoulder for S.Coups.”

“I heard that,” came a voice from the front.

You both jumped apart

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “You wanna sleep in the sea tonight?”

DK raised both hands. “chill, hyung! Just admiring the weather!”

Mingyu walked by snorting. “The ‘weather’ now has long eyelashes and lip gloss.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warm

Inside, the house was warm and cozy two floors, ocean view, and a huge balcony. DK immediately claimed the room closest to yours. “So if you get scared at night,” he whispered, winking, “you can knock three times.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that really your excuse for wanting to be next door?”

“...Maybe.”

Meanwhile, S.Coups was watching from the kitchen, arms crossed, whispering to Woozi.

“She used to have pigtails and beg me for watermelon slices. Now she’s making heart-eyes at that smiley sunshine boy.”

Woozi patted his shoulder. “Let it go, bro. At least she didn’t fall for Vernon.”

That night, after grilled meat and card games, you and DK snuck out to the balcony with mugs of hot cocoa.

He wrapped a blanket around both of you and pulled you closer. “y/nie-ah,” he said gently, “thank you for loving me… even in secret.”

You looked up at him. “I would’ve kept loving you even if it had to stay a secret forever.”

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Still, I’m glad it’s not. I’m glad I can do this now” he cupped your face and kissed you, slow and sweet.

“Hey! Balcony curfew is 10 PM!” S.Coups shouted through the sliding door.

You both broke apart with a yelp.

Jun walked past behind him, laughing. “Hyung’s watching you like Netflix.”

Hoshi grinned. “Y/N, blink twice if you want us to distract your brother.”

“Don’t encourage them!” Seungcheol shouted.