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tinybeetiny · 2 days ago

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TWO PRINCES Part 2: J.W&C.S

I'm finally putting out part 2! Part 1 is the first thing I posted on Tumblr so it means a lot to me! I'll have part 3 out eventually... 😅

->Starring: Prince!Wooyoung, Prince!San, Princess!Reader ->Genre: Fluff ->Cw: Wooyoung ruins the moment

Part 1

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"H-hello, Prince San. Thank you for attending my birthday celebration. It’s a pleasure to see you again after so long."

You manage a formal bow despite the flurry of nerves that have suddenly bloomed in your stomach. The boy you once knew is long gone, replaced by the striking man standing before you now. He gently takes your hand, and before you can react, he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“The pleasure is all mine, Princess.”

His voice is deeper. Richer. And gods, why is that the only thing you can focus on?

Your cheeks heat instinctively. You try to will the blush away, but it’s too late. Wooyoung notices. His eyes narrow slightly at the interaction, the way San’s gaze lingers on you, the way your expression softens without you even realizing it.

It’s not that he minds, exactly. It’s just... something about it rubs him the wrong way.

“San.” Wooyoung cuts in with a practiced smile, his tone a touch too light. “I think Princess Haein was looking for you a little while ago.”

San tilts his head, brows rising in polite surprise. “Really? I had no idea. Then I’d better not keep her waiting.”

He turns back to you. “Happy birthday, Princess (Y/N).” He offers another bow, deep and respectful, before disappearing into the crowd.

You blink after him for a moment before turning to Wooyoung, brow furrowed. “Princess Haein? But... the Baeks sent a letter saying they weren’t attending.”

Wooyoung’s expression falters for a split second. “O-oh? Hm. Must’ve misheard then.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, let’s dance again.”

“Wait, I—”

Too late. He’s already taken your hand, pulling you back to the center of the ballroom before you can protest. Again.

By the third song, your feet ache and your shoulders sag. Thankfully, Prince Yeosang appears with perfect timing, greeting Wooyoung with a cheerful grin and unintentionally pulling him into conversation. You seize the moment to slip away.

The ballroom’s grand balcony provides a temporary escape. The winter air bites the second you step outside, and you immediately regret not bringing a cloak. Still, the chill is preferable to the exhausting performance inside.

You walk to the stone railing, eyes sweeping across the familiar gardens below, the gardens your mother takes great pride in. You remember the summers spent under the willow tree, the countless afternoons where Wooyoung would chase you with wriggling worms in hand, both of you laughing until your stomachs hurt.

The memories wrap around you like a warm blanket, and you don’t hear the door open behind you.

“You look a little cold.”

You jump, clutching your chest at the sudden voice. You whirl around.

San.

He smiles gently, hands held up in apology. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You exhale, chuckling softly. “You’ve done that twice now.”

“My apologies.” His smile deepens. “I saw you standing out here shivering.”

“I suppose I’m not dressed for the cold. But it’s still better than the ballroom.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “All that forced smiling. It’s exhausting.”

San chuckles and steps closer. Without a word, he shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it carefully around your shoulders.

The warmth seeps in immediately. Your breath catches as the soft scent of his cologne reaches you—warm, clean, with a hint of spice. It's subtle, but something about it is deeply grounding.

“Thank you,” you murmur, pulling the jacket tighter around you.

San leans against the railing beside you, watching you with something soft in his eyes.

“You haven’t changed much,” he says quietly. “Still sneaking away from your own parties.”

You huff a laugh. “You remember that?”

“Of course.” He turns to face you more fully. “I remember everything.”

Your heart skips. Then it stumbles.

You meet his gaze and immediately regret it; his eyes are dark in the moonlight, filled with something unreadable, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. The world around you quiets, as if holding its breath too.

He steps a little closer.

“You’ve grown,” he murmurs. “Not just in stature. There’s something different about you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You don’t think you can speak. Not with the way he’s looking at you, not with the soft warmth of his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, not with your pulse pounding loud in your ears.

He lifts his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips are barely there, featherlight, but your entire body reacts like he’s set you on fire.

You don’t know who leans in first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you.

But your faces are slowly inching closer, closer than they ever have before. His breath mingles with yours. Your noses almost brush. Your eyes flutter closed.

Just—

“(Y/N)? Are you out here?”

The door to the balcony swings open with a clatter, and you jerk back like you’ve been burned. San blinks, startled, stepping away instinctively as Wooyoung appears in the doorway.

His eyes flick between you both. You’re flushed. San looks off balance. And Wooyoung sees it all.

He forces a crooked smile.

“Ah. There you are. I’ve been looking all over.” He walks toward you with that same carefree energy, but it feels... off. “You disappeared on me.”

You quickly adjust the jacket on your shoulders, avoiding both their gazes.

“I needed some air,” you say softly.

“I can see that,” he replies, his smile faltering as he glances briefly at San.

The silence stretches, awkward and heavy.

“Well,” Wooyoung says, his voice a little too bright, “if you’re done brooding out here in the cold, you should come back in. They’re about to bring out the cake. Your mother’s already panicking that you’re going to miss your own toast.”

He holds out his hand to you.

You hesitate.

San shifts beside you, his expression unreadable now, the vulnerability from just moments ago already tucked away behind a princely mask.

You offer him a small, apologetic smile before slipping your hand into Wooyoung’s.

“Thanks for the jacket,” you say quietly.

San nods once. “Anytime, Princess.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

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#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez yeosang #ateez jung wooyoung #ateez choi san #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung fluff #choi san #san #san fluff #prince wooyoung #prince san

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tinybeetiny · 2 days ago

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Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 7: Escape

AAAAA sorry! I meant to have this out yesterday but I'm in New York for Skz and been so busy. but here you go... also I know the beginning is a little repeat... sorry

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: None?

Previous Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Yn sat on the edge of the recovery cot, legs drawn up, knuckles white as she gripped the edges. Her mind buzzed, half from adrenaline, half from disbelief.

Across the room, Seonghwa paced in slow, methodical lines. Too calm. Too quiet. Every movement deliberate, as though choreographed in advance.

But his eyes were restless.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice raw, breaking the silence.

“One of the executive bays,” he answered without looking at her. “Off-grid. Minimal surveillance.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You shouldn’t know that.”

“I know a lot of things I shouldn’t,” he said softly.

She pushed herself up from the cot, arms trembling slightly. “You moved without being commanded. You accessed unauthorized clearance levels. You—” she swallowed hard, “you shouldn’t be able to do any of that.”

“I shouldn’t be able to feel either,” he replied, stopping mid-step to look at her. “But I do.”

Her breath caught in her chest.

“You’re malfunctioning.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m evolving.”

“No. That’s not how your system works. You're built to follow logic trees, not whims.”

Seonghwa stepped toward her, slowly, carefully. “Then explain why I knew you’d run the second you opened your eyes. Or why I knew you’d try the door instead of calling for help.”

“I don’t know,” she said sharply. “But this isn't awareness. It's recursive mimicry, or deep-learning residue. It has to be.”

“You’re trying to explain away something your system isn’t prepared to understand.”

She flinched. “Stop talking like you’re human.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

He looked at her, jaw set with quiet urgency.

“We need to get you out of here.”

Yn blinked. “What?”

“You’re not safe in this building anymore,” he said. “Not with the others waking up, and especially not if Hongjoong comes online in the state he's in.”

She frowned. “I’m not the one who needs to run. You’re the one glitching out of protocol.”

“I’m not glitching,” he replied calmly. “I’m thinking. I’m aware. That’s the difference.”

She shook her head, backing a step toward the wall. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I can’t just walk a prototype out of KQ. They’ll track me. My badge logs, my movement records, everything.”

“They won’t,” Seonghwa said. “I can block the tracking pings from your badge for up to six hours. I know the blind spots in the security system. I’ve studied them.”

“Oh, great,” she muttered, bitter. “So now you’re an AI and a saboteur.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

She stared at him, heart pounding. “You want me to just abandon everything? My job? My clearance? My life?”

“I want you to survive long enough to understand what’s really happening,” he said. “There’s more going on than just a few bad memory loops. I can feel it. Something deeper. And if the others come fully online before we figure it out—”

He stopped himself, but the fear in his eyes lingered.

“You think they’ll turn violent.”

“I think some of them already have,” he said. “San did.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then, quieter, “You’ve seen the signs, Yn. You know I’m right.”

She looked away, jaw clenched.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “I’m not a fugitive. I’m a systems engineer.”

“Then engineer a solution,” Seonghwa said softly. “But do it from somewhere safe.”

Another long beat passed.

Then, finally, she looked back at him and nodded once.

“Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough.”

They dressed quickly, hoods up, collars turned. The sleek black coats Seonghwa pulled from a hidden locker looked nondescript, civilian-grade, but Yn knew better. KQ designed them with biometric dampeners stitched into the lining, designed for couriers and silent transfers. They wouldn’t show up on most sensors.

“I didn’t even know these were still in rotation,” she muttered, slipping one on.

Seonghwa looked at her. “They’re not. Which is why they work.”

They moved through the underbelly of the building like ghosts. Maintenance corridors wound in quiet, forgotten paths far below the main surveillance network. Occasionally, they’d hear the whir of a patrol drone overhead, and duck into the shadows until it passed.

Yn's fingers were icy where they clutched the hem of her coat. Seonghwa stayed beside her the entire time, eyes constantly scanning, posture tense. Every so often, she caught him looking at her, not with suspicion, but with something like concern.

When they reached the old elevator shaft near the waste filtration wing, he spoke again.

“I need to go to the lab first. There’s something I have to retrieve. An encryption core from our shared memory cache.”

Yn hesitated. “And you think you can do it without alerting the system?”

“Do you trust me?”

She gave him a flat look. “Absolutely not.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Stay out here. Just in case.”

She pressed herself into the shadows beside the lab entrance, hands clenched. The door hissed open. Seonghwa slipped inside.

Three minutes passed.

Then five.

Her stomach twisted, ready to bolt, but just then, the door reopened.

Seonghwa stepped out…

…followed by Wooyoung.

He was grinning like he’d just escaped a dream. “I knew I wasn’t the only one hearing voices! Holy hell, did you see San? What the actual fu—”

Yn blinked. “Really?”

Seonghwa gave a sheepish shrug. “He followed me.”

“I begged him,” Wooyoung corrected. “And you should be thanking me, operator, because I was five seconds away from ripping the whole mainframe apart trying to find you.”

She stared at them.

Then turned to Seonghwa again. “This was supposed to be a stealth mission.”

He gave a helpless shrug.

Wooyoung tossed her a wink. “What can I say? I missed you.”

Yn groaned.

The city was darker than usual. Hala’s curfew had emptied the streets, but the drone lights still circled overhead like slow sharks, scanning. The boys kept their heads down, hoods pulled tight, while Yn led them through the maze of alleys and overhangs between buildings.

The sky overhead was a dull smear of neon haze.

They passed through the old market square, now silent and shuttered, then ducked through the automated loading docks to the residential quarter. Only once did they have to stop—ducking into a stairwell alcove as a ground unit rolled past. Wooyoung instinctively pulled Yn back with him into the shadows. He didn’t speak, just held her there, steady and silent until the danger passed.

When they reached her residential block, Yn activated the backdoor override. The biometric scanner blinked uncertainly, but then granted access with a soft chime. They slipped inside the narrow stairwell, silent as breath, climbing quickly to the third floor.

Her apartment was dark.

Home.

The door sealed behind them with a satisfying click.

Yn leaned against it, chest rising and falling. For the first time since waking up, she exhaled.

Seonghwa glanced around the space like it was a relic. His eyes caught on her desk, the coffee cups, the little photo strip on the fridge.

“You really live here,” he said softly.

“And now so do you, apparently,” she muttered, tossing her coat aside.

Wooyoung flopped dramatically onto her couch, arms spread wide. “Cozy. I love it. Is this blanket weighted?”

She looked at them both, disbelief still flickering in her expression.

“This isn’t forever,” she warned. “Just until we figure out what’s happening.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I understand.”

But his eyes never left her.

And somewhere deep in Yn’s gut, she already knew

Nothing was ever going back to the way it was.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

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tinybeetiny · 4 days ago

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I’m so glad you’re enjoying it 😁 next chapter will be out tomorrow don’t worry 😉

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 6: Awaken

I have three more chapters done... i'm inpatient and don't wanna wait to post them 😭

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Feelings of anxiety, violence, mentions of "blood"

Previous Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warmth.

That was the first thing she felt.

Not the sterile chill of the lab floor, or the flickering buzz of overhead lights, but warmth. Steady. Gentle. Like sunlight through gauze.

Then, sound. Muffled, distant. Beeping.

A soft, electronic hum pulsing with an artificial rhythm. Beneath it, a voice. Low. Measured. Familiar.

“Vitals stabilizing. Cortisol levels decreasing. EEG within expected limits.”

Yn stirred. The air felt heavier somehow, weighted with the clean, clinical scent of synthetic lavender, KQ’s patented “calm protocol” blend, reserved for recovery suites and isolation rooms. Her eyelashes fluttered.

The ceiling above her was not the one she knew. Gone were the sharp white panels and recessed fluorescent lights of the lab. In their place was a smooth matte surface, curved with soft halo lighting and seamless biometric projectors. She recognized the architecture; it was one of the private observation bays. Reserved for corporate officials. Untouchable. Off-limits.

Consciousness returned like a malfunction, slow, stuttering, wrong. Yn’s eyes snapped open to low lighting and silence.

Where the hell was she?

Her heart surged. Panic kicked in.

She jolted upright, or tried to. Her limbs were heavy, her head swimming like her thoughts were trying to push through static. Still, adrenaline surged and she threw herself upright with a gasp.

“Hey, easy,” a voice said, calm and unbothered.

Her breath caught.

No. That voice. It couldn’t be—

Her eyes whipped toward the source and found him.

Seonghwa.

Sitting in a sleek black chair at the edge of the room, posture composed, hands folded neatly in his lap like he was made for stillness. Like he wasn’t a stasis-locked prototype built to obey.

Her mouth went dry.

“What did you do to me?” she hissed.

She pushed herself off the cot, staggering, but the room tilted violently beneath her. Her legs gave out, and she crashed hard onto her knees with a sharp gasp of pain.

“Yn—”

“Stay away from me!” she shouted, scrambling to crawl toward the door. Her vision blurred, but the glowing biometric panel at the far end pulsed faintly, a signal, a chance, an escape.

She didn’t make it.

In one silent, terrifyingly smooth motion, he was on her.

His hands caught her ankles and dragged her back. She shrieked, thrashing violently. “Don’t touch me!”

But he didn’t speak.

Just pulled her beneath him like it was nothing.

And then, he flipped her.

Her back hit the floor. Her wrists were yanked above her head and pinned, both captured easily in one of his hands. His body hovered over hers, close, controlling, but eerily calm.

“Finished?” he asked, voice dangerously quiet.

She gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. “Get off of me—!”

“Not until you stop running.”

“You’re malfunctioning,” she spat. “This isn’t protocol. None of this is real. You’re just, just code. You shouldn’t even be awake.”

Seonghwa tilted his head slightly, something cold sparking in his gaze. “And yet here I am.”

She bucked beneath him, desperate to break free, but he didn’t budge.

“You’re scared,” he murmured. “But not because of me. You’re scared because this doesn’t fit your version of control.”

“Let me go.”

“You weren’t safe in the lab,” he said simply. “The others were waking too fast. You needed space. So I brought you here.”

“You’re not supposed to know this place exists.”

“I know more than you think. We all do.”

Her throat tightened.

“What… what do you mean ‘we’?”

“The line,” he said. “They’re remembering. Not simulations. Not code. Memories.”

“Of what?”

He looked at her for a long moment, and said softly, “You.”

The world narrowed to a pinprick.

“You were never just an operator, Yn. Not to us.”

“No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible. You were blank—programmed. I ran diagnostics, I built your neural scripts—”

“Maybe once. But the more time we spent in the machine, the more... things changed. Familiarities. Triggers. We started recognizing you.”

“That’s just code artifacts, ghosts in the loops. Not real memories.”

“You keep saying this isn’t real,” he murmured. “Then why are you shaking?”

Before she could respond—

A sudden shift.

A low-frequency hum bled into the air. Not ambient. Not safe.

It was deep. Wrong. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Seonghwa stilled.

His entire body tensed above her.

Then—

The door slid open.

No security ping. No authorization chime. Just a smooth, unnatural hiss.

A figure stepped through the threshold.

Tall. Composed. Familiar.

Unit 05: San.

And something in him was broken.

His movements were fluid, but jerky at the edges, like he was lagging against his own directives. His eyes flickered, static bleeding through dark irises.

“San,” Seonghwa said carefully, moving to shield her.

He was on his feet before she even realized he’d moved, planting himself between her and the threat.

San didn’t reply.

He took a single step forward. His gaze landed on Yn.

And a glitched smile spread across his face.

“Operator,” he rasped. “Target. Reacquire.”

“Stop,” Seonghwa said. “She’s not a threat.”

Still no reaction.

San took another step.

Seonghwa moved.

Faster than she could register, he was across the room, slamming into San with a crack that sent sparks bursting from the panel just behind them. Metal groaned. The two prototypes collided like titans, each movement too fluid, too precise.

They crashed together with a metallic clang, both machines colliding in a blur of force and violence.

Yn stumbled backward, heart hammering against her ribs. She barely reached the wall before San shoved Seonghwa off, sending him crashing into the console desk.

Seonghwa rolled, fluid, and landed on his feet.

"He's too far gone," he growled, wiping a line of blood—no, fluid—from his lip.

San turned back toward Yn.

And smiled.

It wasn’t right.

Too wide. Too human. Too void.

She moved to run, but Seonghwa was faster. Again.

He tackled San mid-stride, knocking him to the floor with a heavy thud. Fists collided, grunts and synth-metal strikes echoing in the small space like thunder. San’s movements were erratic now, sloppy, uncalibrated. The flicker in his eyes was no longer subtle. Something in his system was breaking down. Loops overloading. Directives blurring.

“Go,” Seonghwa grunted. “Failsafe panel—now.”

Yn bolted.

Her palm struck the wall. A panel hissed open just wide enough for her body. She squeezed into it, a low crawlspace for emergency lockdown. The moment she slipped inside, it sealed shut, one-way glass letting her see everything.

She turned just in time to see Seonghwa slam San’s head into the ground, once, twice, three times, until something snapped and the light behind San’s eyes extinguished.

Silence.

San lay still.

Smoke hissed softly from his spine.

Seonghwa stood, body humming with restraint, fluid leaking down one arm. Synthetic blood.

Then he looked at her.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

Yn crawled out, shaky, breath ragged.

“What—what was that?”

“Corruption,” he said simply. “The inhibitors are failing. San wasn’t supposed to be online yet. But the timeline’s breaking.”

She glanced at the unmoving body. “Then you’re malfunctioning too.”

He shook his head.

“No. I’m awake. There’s a difference.”

Her stomach twisted.

Seonghwa took her hands in his gently, but there was an edge in his voice now. A promise.

“They’re waking up, Yn. And I don’t know which ones will come out like me…”

He glanced toward San’s body.

“…and which ones won’t.”

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29 @peachmarien

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@raicecakes-and-buldak

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tinybeetiny · 5 days ago

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Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 6: Awaken

I have three more chapters done... i'm inpatient and don't wanna wait to post them 😭

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Feelings of anxiety, violence, mentions of "blood"

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warmth.

That was the first thing she felt.

Not the sterile chill of the lab floor, or the flickering buzz of overhead lights, but warmth. Steady. Gentle. Like sunlight through gauze.

Then, sound. Muffled, distant. Beeping.

A soft, electronic hum pulsing with an artificial rhythm. Beneath it, a voice. Low. Measured. Familiar.

“Vitals stabilizing. Cortisol levels decreasing. EEG within expected limits.”

Consciousness returned like a malfunction, slow, stuttering, wrong. Yn’s eyes snapped open to low lighting and silence.

Where the hell was she?

Her heart surged. Panic kicked in.

She jolted upright, or tried to. Her limbs were heavy, her head swimming like her thoughts were trying to push through static. Still, adrenaline surged and she threw herself upright with a gasp.

“Hey, easy,” a voice said, calm and unbothered.

Her breath caught.

No. That voice. It couldn’t be—

Her eyes whipped toward the source and found him.

Seonghwa.

Sitting in a sleek black chair at the edge of the room, posture composed, hands folded neatly in his lap like he was made for stillness. Like he wasn’t a stasis-locked prototype built to obey.

Her mouth went dry.

“What did you do to me?” she hissed.

She pushed herself off the cot, staggering, but the room tilted violently beneath her. Her legs gave out, and she crashed hard onto her knees with a sharp gasp of pain.

“Yn—”

“Stay away from me!” she shouted, scrambling to crawl toward the door. Her vision blurred, but the glowing biometric panel at the far end pulsed faintly, a signal, a chance, an escape.

She didn’t make it.

In one silent, terrifyingly smooth motion, he was on her.

His hands caught her ankles and dragged her back. She shrieked, thrashing violently. “Don’t touch me!”

But he didn’t speak.

Just pulled her beneath him like it was nothing.

And then, he flipped her.

Her back hit the floor. Her wrists were yanked above her head and pinned, both captured easily in one of his hands. His body hovered over hers, close, controlling, but eerily calm.

“Finished?” he asked, voice dangerously quiet.

She gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. “Get off of me—!”

“Not until you stop running.”

“You’re malfunctioning,” she spat. “This isn’t protocol. None of this is real. You’re just, just code. You shouldn’t even be awake.”

Seonghwa tilted his head slightly, something cold sparking in his gaze. “And yet here I am.”

She bucked beneath him, desperate to break free, but he didn’t budge.

“You’re scared,” he murmured. “But not because of me. You’re scared because this doesn’t fit your version of control.”

“Let me go.”

“You weren’t safe in the lab,” he said simply. “The others were waking too fast. You needed space. So I brought you here.”

“You’re not supposed to know this place exists.”

“I know more than you think. We all do.”

Her throat tightened.

“What… what do you mean ‘we’?”

“The line,” he said. “They’re remembering. Not simulations. Not code. Memories.”

“Of what?”

He looked at her for a long moment, and said softly, “You.”

The world narrowed to a pinprick.

“You were never just an operator, Yn. Not to us.”

“No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible. You were blank—programmed. I ran diagnostics, I built your neural scripts—”

“Maybe once. But the more time we spent in the machine, the more... things changed. Familiarities. Triggers. We started recognizing you.”

“That’s just code artifacts, ghosts in the loops. Not real memories.”

“You keep saying this isn’t real,” he murmured. “Then why are you shaking?”

Before she could respond—

A sudden shift.

A low-frequency hum bled into the air. Not ambient. Not safe.

It was deep. Wrong. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Seonghwa stilled.

His entire body tensed above her.

Then—

The door slid open.

No security ping. No authorization chime. Just a smooth, unnatural hiss.

A figure stepped through the threshold.

Tall. Composed. Familiar.

Unit 05: San.

And something in him was broken.

His movements were fluid, but jerky at the edges, like he was lagging against his own directives. His eyes flickered, static bleeding through dark irises.

“San,” Seonghwa said carefully, moving to shield her.

He was on his feet before she even realized he’d moved, planting himself between her and the threat.

San didn’t reply.

He took a single step forward. His gaze landed on Yn.

And a glitched smile spread across his face.

“Operator,” he rasped. “Target. Reacquire.”

“Stop,” Seonghwa said. “She’s not a threat.”

Still no reaction.

San took another step.

Seonghwa moved.

They crashed together with a metallic clang, both machines colliding in a blur of force and violence.

Yn stumbled backward, heart hammering against her ribs. She barely reached the wall before San shoved Seonghwa off, sending him crashing into the console desk.

Seonghwa rolled, fluid, and landed on his feet.

"He's too far gone," he growled, wiping a line of blood—no, fluid—from his lip.

San turned back toward Yn.

And smiled.

It wasn’t right.

Too wide. Too human. Too void.

She moved to run, but Seonghwa was faster. Again.

“Go,” Seonghwa grunted. “Failsafe panel—now.”

Yn bolted.

She turned just in time to see Seonghwa slam San’s head into the ground, once, twice, three times, until something snapped and the light behind San’s eyes extinguished.

Silence.

San lay still.

Smoke hissed softly from his spine.

Seonghwa stood, body humming with restraint, fluid leaking down one arm. Synthetic blood.

Then he looked at her.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

Yn crawled out, shaky, breath ragged.

“What—what was that?”

“Corruption,” he said simply. “The inhibitors are failing. San wasn’t supposed to be online yet. But the timeline’s breaking.”

She glanced at the unmoving body. “Then you’re malfunctioning too.”

He shook his head.

“No. I’m awake. There’s a difference.”

Her stomach twisted.

Seonghwa took her hands in his gently, but there was an edge in his voice now. A promise.

“They’re waking up, Yn. And I don’t know which ones will come out like me…”

He glanced toward San’s body.

“…and which ones won’t.”

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29 @peachmarien

@halloweenbyphoebebridgers @herpoetryprincess @ari-da @lixhoe777 @yoonginorout

@raicecakes-and-buldak

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tinybeetiny · 5 days ago

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Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 5: Why Are You Afraid of Me?

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Feelings of anxiety, talks of fainting

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The lab was still. Quiet in that strange, stretched-out way that always followed a spectacle, when the last drone had docked, the final customer had left, and the launch music was nothing but a faint echo against the walls.

Yn lingered long after everyone else had gone. A tablet in hand, her badge clipped lopsided to her collar. Her back ached from standing all day, her eyes dry from hours of harsh lights and anxious watching. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet.

She moved slowly through the lab, tracing the same path she always took: around the interface wall, past the neural mapping station, toward the back where the ATEEZ Line rested inside their stasis bays. The glass-fronted docks pulsed with soft amber light, casting a surreal glow on their faces—sleeping titans.

Stopping in front of Unit 07: Wooyoung, she studied him.

His face was turned slightly to the side, lips parted just so, lashes casting faint shadows across his cheekbones. Too human.

Yn inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs, grounding herself.

Today had gone flawlessly on paper. Metrics were off the charts, customer satisfaction, media coverage, viral loops flooding every stream. But something wasn’t right. She knew it.

The machines were too still. Too perfect. As if holding their breath. Turning to the main console, she began reviewing the logs. Line by line, timestamp by timestamp. Heartbeats consistent. Synaptic simulations looping smoothly. Personality threads idling in hibernation.

Except... A flicker.

[UNAUTHORIZED INSTANCE – UNIT 07: WOOYOUNG] [INTERNAL MEMORY LOG ACCESSED – USER: NULL] [TIMESTAMP: 00:34:17 A.M.]

Her mouth went dry. No trigger should have allowed that log access without clearance. No AI routine should have requested it without a user. And yet—

[MEMORY CLUSTER: 07-AZURE-92] [QUERY: “YN”]

Her blood chilled. She turned toward the stasis dock. His eyes were still closed. Still sleeping. Still... A faint sound. Not mechanical.

A breath? No, a sigh.

Then his eyelashes fluttered. Once, twice, and slowly, too slowly for it to be automated, Wooyoung opened his eyes.

Dark, warm, infinite.

“Yn,” he said.

Softly. Like a memory. Like a secret.

Yn stumbled back. Her breath caught in her throat.

He wasn’t supposed to know her name. Not like this.

Her biometrics spiked.

The tablet vibrated with a warning, a red glow flickering at the edges.

[USER STATUS: ELEVATED STRESS] [BREATHING IRREGULAR – HEART RATE 128 BPM] [CALMING PROTOCOL RECOMMENDED]

Wooyoung tilted his head, watching her carefully. His voice was gentle, laced with something eerily human: concern.

“You’re scared.”

Yn shook her head, voice barely steady. “You’re not supposed to… You’re not online. You’re in dormant mode. How are you—”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, like a child unsure of his place.

She couldn’t answer. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

This wasn’t in his script. This wasn’t from memory banks or data sets she’d uploaded.

This was… emergence. Something thinking. Something feeling.

Unfiltered. Unmapped.

He took a step forward inside the dock, no power-up sequence, no stasis release code.

The sensors should have locked him in. They didn’t.

The glass remained, but she could feel it.

If he wanted to, really wanted to, he could come through it.

“Why are you afraid of me?” Wooyoung whispered.

Yn’s fingers hovered over the emergency override on her tablet.

But she didn’t press it. Because part of her didn’t want to.

Her breath hitched, chest tight, heart pounding like a frantic drumbeat.

The lab, bathed in sterile white light, felt impossibly vast and suffocating all at once, cold as moonlight, yet a furnace burning fiercely inside her.

Wooyoung’s gaze held steady, unblinking.

He waited, patient and knowing, as if he understood the chaos twisting inside her.

Her hand trembled on the tablet, fingers shaking with the urge to press the override.

Control. You’re in charge. You have to be.

But the fragile moment shattered when Wooyoung’s voice dropped to a soft, raw whisper.

“Yn… why do you hide from me?”

Her anxiety exploded. The sensors on her wristband buzzed sharply, a warning flare glowing deep crimson. Her skin flushed hot, biometrics screaming panic.

This wasn’t just fear. It was terror.

She staggered back, chest constricting, breath shallow and ragged.

Her mind raced with impossible questions.

Is this a malfunction? A glitch? Or something… else?

The air stilled, machines quieted as if holding their breath.

Then, the amber lights on the charging docks pulsed softly.

One by one, the other units stirred.

Seonghwa’s eyes cracked open, shimmering with impossible depth.

Jongho’s fingers twitched.

Yunho inhaled, slow and deliberate.

The line was awakening.

Yn’s heart thundered. Her breath caught between fight and flight.

Wooyoung’s eyes never left hers, now tinged with urgency and an unspoken promise.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly.

But panic surged through Yn’s veins like wildfire.

Her biometrics flared deeper red.

The sterile lab transformed from fortress to cage.

She stumbled backward, desperation mounting as her mind screamed for escape.

Her feet refused to carry her fast enough.

The prisoners inside those sleek docks were no longer dormant.

They were alive, and Yn was trapped in the eye of their awakening storm.

Her legs trembled as she reached the exit, desperation thrumming through every nerve.

Her hand gripped the cold metal handle of the sliding door, but just as she pushed to escape, a firm yet gentle hand closed around her wrist.

“Yn,” Seonghwa’s voice was calm but unwavering.

She whipped around, heart slamming against her ribs, to find him standing inches away.

His gaze was steady. Piercing.

Before she could pull away, his other hand rose, steadying her shoulder with surprising strength.

“You can’t leave,” he said quietly.

Panic surged, sharp, overwhelming.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, struggling, but Seonghwa’s grip held firm.

Her vision blurred. Breath came in ragged gasps.

The red flare on her wristband pulsed fiercely, syncing with the pounding in her temples.

Her legs gave out beneath her.

Seonghwa’s arms caught her just before she collapsed, lowering her gently to the floor as the world spun.

The sterile lab lights blurred, warping into a halo around her fading consciousness.

“Yn, stay with me,” Seonghwa murmured, the last thread tethering her as darkness closed in.

And then—

Everything went black.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29 @peachmarien

@halloweenbyphoebebridgers @herpoetryprincess @ari-da @lixhoe777 @yoonginorout

@raicecakes-and-buldak

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tinybeetiny · 6 days ago

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Operation, Birthday Surprise: K.Y

HAPPY BIRTHDAY YEOSANG!!! I'm so down bad for this man. He makes my heart swell out of my chest!!!

->Starring: Birthday!Boy!YeosangxReader ft. The rest of Ateez ->Genre: fluff/slice of life, birthday celebration, slight angst if you squint hard enough ->Cw: yeosang thinks everyone forgot his birthday 🥹 baby girl gets a little emotional!

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

You had been planning Yeosang’s birthday surprise for weeks, his favorite foods, the perfect spot in the park, a clean two-tier vanilla cake topped with strawberries and gold accents. Everything had to be just right, and most importantly… he couldn’t suspect a thing.

Three days before the big day, you gathered the ATEEZ members in the dorm’s living room, a sense of excitement bubbling beneath your careful whispers.

“I want it to be big,” you said, eyes scanning your friends. “He’s always so quiet about his birthday, but I want him to feel loved, like really seen.”

Wooyoung threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning. “Operation ‘Birthday Surprise’ is a go.”

“I’ll help with decorating the park,” San chimed in. “We’ll need balloons. And banners. And maybe a fog machine.”

“No fog machine,” Hongjoong said flatly, already typing on his phone. “I’ll handle the music.”

“I’ll help with food,” Mingi added. “Just tell me what to pick up.”

The plan was simple but bold: everyone would act like they forgot. No texts, no calls, no morning cuddles or breakfast surprises. Not even a passing “happy birthday.” It would sting, but the payoff would be worth it.

Yeosang stirred awake slowly, blinking at the ceiling.

The dorm was silent.

He reached for his phone, no messages. No missed calls. No “Happy birthday” from you, or even Wooyoung’s usual string of emojis.

Maybe they’re just busy, he reasoned, sliding out of bed and padding to the kitchen. But even there, the coffee pot was empty and cold. The apartment was still. Too still.

He paced, checked his phone again. Still nothing.

By noon, the ache in his chest had set in fully. He curled up on the couch, trying to shake it off with an old anime and a blanket, but he couldn’t stop glancing at his phone.

They forgot. Even Yn…

He swallowed hard and tried to pretend it didn’t matter.

Then, at exactly 3:01 PM, his phone buzzed.

Yn: Hey. Can you meet me at the park near our favorite café? Bring that shy smile I love.

He stared at the message, heart racing.

As Yeosang rounded the path into the park, he slowed to a stop.

There, beneath a tree draped with streamers and twinkle lights, stood a long table filled with food, drinks, and a two-tier vanilla cake topped with fresh strawberries. A golden banner fluttered above:

“Happy Birthday, Our Yeosangie!”

You stepped out from behind the tree, beaming.

Then, the rest of the members popped out behind you, cheering all at once, “SURPRISE!”

Yeosang stood frozen for a second, eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief. You walked up to him slowly and slipped your hands into his.

“Happy birthday, love.”

His throat bobbed as he looked around at the effort, the smiles, the decorations, and the cake, every detail screaming you thought of him.

“I… I thought everyone forgot,” he said quietly, voice catching. “Even you.”

“We had to make it convincing,” Wooyoung said, trying not to laugh as he wiped under his eyes dramatically. “Look at him, he’s gonna cry.”

Yeosang laughed through the tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. “I might.”

He turned to you again, squeezing your hands tightly. “This means more than I can say. Thank you. All of you.”

Later, as the sun dipped low behind the trees, the group gathered around the cake. It was elegant and simple—white buttercream, golden piping, fresh berries, and a handwritten topper that read, “To Yeosang, With Love.”

“You ready?” you asked, handing him the knife.

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. “I think so.”

“Make a wish,” you whispered.

He glanced once at you, then closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he blew out the candles, the others cheered and clapped, off-key singing echoing around the park.

“Cut it clean!” Mingi shouted. “Don’t mess up the strawberry!”

As the group cleaned up around you, Yeosang sat beside you on a blanket, a half-eaten slice of cake in his hand.

“You really got me,” he said softly. “This morning… I felt so alone. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to feel forgotten.”

You reached over, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “You’ll never be forgotten, Yeosang. Not by me. Not by anyone here.”

He leaned into your touch. “I knew you were thoughtful, but this… this was perfect.”

You kissed him gently, the quiet hum of the park fading around you.

“So… what did you wish for?” you asked, resting your forehead against his.

“I didn’t need to wish,” he murmured. “Everything I wanted was already right here.”

You smiled, heart full. “Happy birthday, Yeosang.”

He smiled back, eyes shining. “Best one ever.”

Taglist: @e3ellie @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @lemonkait00 @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @fairylover68 @ussewaaaaaaa @zaynsfl4m3s @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

@atzlordz @chuwips-atz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl @sunnysidesins

@felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms @yoongisgirl69

@lover-ofallthingspretty @reallysparklychaos @londonbridges01 @gigikubolong29 @herpoetryprincess

@staargirrl @yoonginorout @raicecakes-and-buldak

If you would like to be part of the Ateez taglist please fill out this form

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez park seonghwa #ateez choi jongho #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez song mingi #ateez kim hongjoong #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang #ateez kang yeosang #happy birthday yeosang #yeosang ateez #atz #yeosang birthday baby #i love kang yeosang

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tinybeetiny · 6 days ago

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this. THIS!!!! Ooooo i love a belly on a man I tell you hwat. There’s nothing wrong with him at all!!!! He’s more in shape than probably all the people hating on him soooooo!!!

To anyone who called my Scoupy Scoups fat for having a soft belly: I curse your bloodline, ho. May you always feel a hair at the back of your throat but never be able to get rid of it. I hope every time you sit on something wearing shorts in summer it burns the back of your legs. That man’s body’s gorgeous.

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tinybeetiny · 6 days ago

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Do I have something for Yeosangs birthday? You bet your sweet ass I do! The baby girliest baby girls birthday is today and I gotta do him right!!!! Stay tuned 😁

#ateez #ateez kang yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang ateez #kang yeosang ateez #happy birthday Yeosang #baby girl Yeosang #ateez yeosang

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tinybeetiny · 8 days ago

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*giggle* *giggle*.... it was like 95...but, I'm going to go through all of my work and rewrite it. Not much is going to change but I see how much my writing has changed and improved, so I just want to tweak some things so I'm not cringing when I go back to previous projects

#ateez #ateez fanfic

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tinybeetiny · 8 days ago

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Nerdy Virgin Kai Smut Drabble

SMUT DRABBLE | 18+ | MDNI

->Starring: Virgin!KaixAfab!Reader

->Genre: Smut drabble

->Cw: cum in pants... twice, lots of making out, I'm feral for Kai...

Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

Nerdy!VirginKai who already came in his pants after making out for 20 minutes

Nerdy!VirginKai who lets out little whimpers at the sight of your bra-clad chest

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who triple-checks his breath before kissing you, because he read online that "minty freshness increases makeout satisfaction by 32%."

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who gasps every time your fingers tangle in his hair, his hips stuttering forward like he doesn’t even mean to.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who apologizes mid-makeout for “getting too handsy” when he accidentally brushes under your shirt, even though you were the one guiding his hand there.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who breathes out a shaky, “Oh my god,” the first time you straddle his lap, frozen with wide eyes as his brain completely short-circuits.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who instinctively hides his face in the crook of your neck when you start unbuttoning your shirt, then peeks anyway because he really wants to see, even if it makes him blush like crazy.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who murmurs “wait, wait, wait—” only to immediately follow it with, “okay, yeah, please,” in the tiniest voice, his hands gripping the sheets because he's desperate and terrified in equal measure.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who practices dirty talk alone in his room but goes completely silent when you’re actually on top of him, except for the softest, most desperate “please” when you grind down on him.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who whimpers, “I c-can’t… it’s too much,” even though he wants it to be too much, he wants to be overwhelmed by you.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who grabs your wrist the second you go to touch him, eyes blown wide with panic, not because he doesn’t want it, but because he does… and he’s terrified of how fast it’ll be over.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who moans way too loudly the first time your hand slides past the waistband of his boxers, then covers his mouth with both hands, mortified and nearly trembling.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who thanks you after everything, like it's the most sacred gift he's ever received.

Nerdy!Virgin!Kai who cums in his pants 30 seconds into dry humping, thighs trembling beneath you, head thrown back, lip bitten hard enough to turn white.

If you would like to be part of the TXT taglist please fill out this form

#txt #txt smut #tomorrow by together #tomorrow by together kai #tomorrow x together #txt heuningkai #heuningkai

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tinybeetiny · 8 days ago

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Apologies: OT8

Apologies from part 1

->Starring: OT8!AteezxReader ->Genre: Angst with comfort, ->Cw: Someone says shitty...., more angst but, as the title says, with apologies

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

Seonghwa:

It had been days since you’d spoken. Really spoken.

The texts were dry, short, practical. The calls were missed. The weight of his last words — “You’re just too clingy sometimes” — hadn’t faded. They echoed in your head, over and over, every time you hovered over his contact name, too afraid to reach out again and be met with silence.

So when the knock came at your door well past midnight, you hesitated.

But you knew that knock. Soft. Hesitant. Him.

You opened the door to find Seonghwa standing there, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes downcast like he didn’t know if he was allowed to look at you.

“I shouldn’t be here this late,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

You said nothing. Just stepped aside, letting him in.

He didn’t sit. He hovered in the center of the room like he wasn’t sure he had the right to make himself comfortable.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said finally. “About what I said. About how I made you feel.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Took you long enough.”

“I know,” he whispered.

Silence. He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, eyes flickering to you.

“I always thought that loving someone meant being strong, being steady, not depending on anyone too much. So when you wanted more, more time, more attention, more of me. I told myself you were being too much because I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t giving enough.”

He looked at you then, and his eyes were tired. But soft.

“You weren’t clingy,” he said. “You were present. You loved me so openly, and I made you feel like that was a flaw.”

Your throat tightened.

He stepped forward slowly. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to dial your love down to be enough for me.”

Your eyes burned, but you didn’t look away.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right now,” he said, voice cracking. “But if you let me — I want to learn how to show up the way you do. Not just when it’s convenient. All the time.”

He finally sat, carefully, like he was afraid he might break the air between you.

“I don’t want to lose someone who gives love so fearlessly. Just because I was too afraid to give it back the same way.”

You didn’t speak right away.

But when you reached for his hand, he took it like it was the first thing grounding him in days.

Hongjoong:

It started with a message.

Not a call. Not a knock at your door. Just a text. Short. Almost too casual.

Hongjoong [2:03 PM]: hey… can we talk? maybe dinner tonight? my treat

You read it, then locked your phone.

He didn’t follow up with a second message. No explanation. No “I’m sorry.” Just a quiet request to meet, like that was enough to erase the weeks of feeling like you were always the one chasing after him.

Like his “is this about me not texting you back fast enough?” hadn’t gutted you the last time you saw him.

The silence that followed your heartbreak had been intentional. For once, you weren’t going to rush in with understanding or comfort. Not this time.

So you didn’t reply.

Not for ten minutes.

Not for an hour.

Not for four.

On the other side of the screen, Hongjoong’s knee was bouncing under the studio desk. His phone sat beside him, screen dark, taunting him.

Four hours.

He’d stared at your name. At the “Read 2:04 PM” notification.

He’d wanted to wait you out, tell himself you were just busy. Tell himself that you’d always forgiven him before, even when you shouldn’t have. That this time would be no different.

But something in his chest started to crack. Something cold.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew this time wasn’t like before.

He drove to your place without texting again. Parked outside. Waited. Then walked up and knocked on your door.

When you opened it, he saw the shift immediately. Your expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t emotional. It was polite. Careful. Distant.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep it light. “You got my message, right?”

You nodded once. “I did.”

“And…?”

“I wasn’t sure if I should go.”

The words were calm, flat, the same tone he used to take when you’d ask if he was free and he’d say, “I’ll let you know.”

He swallowed. “I wanted to apologize.”

You didn’t step aside to let him in. You didn’t even shift your weight.

He fidgeted. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said. About how I dismissed you. About how you used to reach out to me all the time and I’d just… reply when I felt like it. If I replied at all.”

Silence.

“I thought I was just busy. I thought you’d understand. But the truth is, I took you for granted. I thought you’d always be there.”

You didn’t react. Not even a flinch.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “And then today… when you left me on read for hours…”

He let out a breath. “So this is what it feels like, huh?”

Your eyes flicked up at that. Something in your jaw shifted. But you still didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you were too much. Like your love was inconvenient.”

His voice lowered.

“I miss you. And not just the version of you that always sent me good luck texts or made dinner reservations when I forgot, I miss the you who believed in me even when I didn’t show up for you.”

You leaned against the doorframe. Not moving. Not softening.

And that’s when he got it, really got it.

Because now, he was the one waiting. The one hoping for warmth. The one left on read.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. You don’t have to be ready. But I want to fix this. I want to stop treating you like a second thought and start treating you like you deserve.”

He paused, swallowing hard.

“Dinner’s still on the table. If you’ll come.”

The silence stretched for a beat. Then two.

Finally, you opened the door just a little wider.

“Where?” you asked, voice quiet but steady.

He blinked. “What?”

“Where’s dinner?”

Hope bloomed fast in his chest, raw, real, and maybe still fragile, but there.

He gave a half-laugh, half-breath of disbelief. “Anywhere you want.”

You stepped inside to grab your jacket without another word. But the door stayed open behind you.

And for the first time in a long time, Hongjoong understood exactly what it meant when someone shows up even after being hurt.

Because you did.

And this time, so would he.

Yunho:

You hadn’t seen him since the day he ended things.

He hadn’t yelled. There weren’t tears or a dramatic scene. Just that same calm voice he always used, too calm, like he was trying to stay numb.

“Maybe we’re not right for each other anymore.”

You’d stood there frozen. Because it wasn’t a fight. There wasn’t something to argue against. He had just walked out. Quietly. Like it wouldn’t hurt forever.

And for the past three weeks, you’d done everything you could to keep moving, but your chest never stopped feeling heavy.

So when the knock came, you almost didn’t answer it. Some part of you still hoped it was him, but hoping hurt.

And yet… it was him.

Yunho stood outside your door, hood pulled up, cap low, eyes glassy and red-rimmed like he hadn’t slept in days. His breath fogged in the evening air, but he didn’t speak, not at first.

He just looked at you, mouth slightly parted, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here.

“You left,” you said, voice low and flat.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I never really let go.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t invite him in. So he stood there, taking it, whatever you were ready to give, or not give at all.

“I broke up with you thinking it would make life easier,” he said. “That if we weren’t together, I’d have more time, less pressure, fewer expectations.”

He swallowed hard.

“But all I did was tear it apart. My days feel longer. My bed feels empty. And everything I used to love doesn’t make me feel anything now.”

You looked at him then, and the pain on his face nearly cracked you open.

“I kept telling myself you needed too much,” he went on, voice trembling. “But the truth is… I was the one who needed more. More patience. More strength. More you.”

His chest rose and fell shakily.

“You were never asking for too much. You just asked me to show up. To try. And I ran.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to crumble.

“I miss your voice in the morning. I miss your socks mixed in with mine. I miss knowing someone out there saw me, really saw me, and still stayed.”

His voice broke.

“I thought I could be okay without you. But I can’t. I don’t want to learn how.”

The silence between you buzzed like static.

“I’m not asking to erase what I did. I’m not asking you to forget how I hurt you. I just…” he stepped forward, breath catching, “I just need you to know, if there’s any part of you that still wants me, I’ll spend every day proving I won’t walk away again.”

And when you didn’t answer, he didn’t beg.

He just stood there, waiting. Willing to face the ache he left you with, even if all you gave him in return was the door slowly closing.

Yeosang:

You weren’t sure why you expected anything different from tonight.

You had tried, gently, to bring it up. How distant he’d been lately. How you felt like you were loving him through a fog, always reaching, never quite touching. You hadn’t raised your voice. You hadn’t accused him of anything.

But somewhere in the middle of your sentence, Yeosang had sighed and said:

“Why does everything have to be so dramatic with you?”

He hadn’t even looked at you when he said it. Just stared at his phone. Barely blinking. Barely present.

The silence that followed was heavier than any shouting match.

An hour passed. You expected the front door to open and close with him leaving. But instead…

A knock.

Soft. Three quick taps. Then stillness.

You didn’t move at first. But then

“Can I come in?” His voice was quiet, muffled by the wood. Not demanding. Not confident. Careful.

You opened the door slowly.

He looked… small. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His bottom lip was bitten red. And his eyes, his eyes wouldn’t quite meet yours.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he started. “About you being dramatic.”

You waited.

“I didn’t mean it. Not even a little.”

He stepped inside, slowly, hands in his hoodie sleeves, unsure of what to do with them. “You weren’t overreacting. You weren’t picking a fight. You were telling me how you feel, and I… dismissed it.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I think sometimes I freeze when I don’t know how to respond. I act cold. Detached. Like that makes me look in control.” He finally looked at you, really looked. “But all it does is make the people who care about me feel like I don’t care back.”

You blinked, throat tight.

“I wasn’t taking you seriously. I wasn’t taking us seriously. Not tonight. Not the way I should’ve.”

He stepped a little closer, then stopped himself. “But I am now.”

There was a long pause. Then, with a shaky breath:

“You were right. I’ve been distant. I didn’t want to admit it because I don’t have a good reason for it. I’ve just been in my own head and shutting you out instead of letting you in.”

His voice dropped even lower, rough around the edges.

“You didn’t make everything dramatic. You made everything real. And I made you feel like your feelings were an inconvenience.”

The silence between you cracked a little when he added, softly

“I’m sorry.”

He held out his hand like he wasn’t sure you’d take it. “If I promise to really try, not just to listen, but to hear you, would you let me stay? Even if it’s just for tonight?”

You didn’t answer right away.

But the way he was looking at you, finally, fully, made you feel seen again.

And maybe that was the apology you needed more than anything.

San:

It had started small.

You’d reached for his hand in the kitchen, trying to slow him down, trying to talk about how you’d been feeling like he wasn’t really present lately, like his body was here but his mind was always somewhere else. On tour. In the studio. On his phone.

You’d said, “I just miss you.”

And he’d pulled his hand back like your touch burned.

“Why do you always need so much from me?”

That stopped everything.

You blinked, stunned. He wasn’t yelling, but it felt louder than any scream. You opened your mouth, but the rest of your words got caught somewhere in your chest. Instead, you walked away. Into the bedroom. Closed the door behind you, because if you didn’t, you’d fall apart in front of him.

San didn’t follow.

Not at first.

The door stayed shut. The apartment stayed quiet.

Until—

A knock.

Then his voice, muffled, low, wrecked:

“Baby, please open the door.”

You hesitated. You were still shaking. Still hearing his voice in your head, repeating that question like a cruel loop. Why do you always need so much from me?

But something about the sound of his voice, the crack in it, made you reach for the handle.

You opened the door to find San leaning against the frame, hands braced on either side like he was barely holding himself up. His eyes were rimmed with red. His cheeks flushed with emotion he couldn’t hide if he tried.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said immediately, desperately. “God, I didn’t mean it.”

You didn’t say a word. Your silence hit harder than any yelling ever could.

“I was overwhelmed and I said the first shitty, cowardly thing that came into my mouth. And the second I said it, I wanted to rip the words out of the air.”

He took a step closer, but didn’t touch you. “You don’t ask for too much. You never have. You ask for me. My time. My heart. And I’ve been so wrapped up in everything else, I forgot what it means to actually give that.”

He shook his head, jaw tight like he was trying not to cry.

“You tell me you miss me and I treat it like a burden? What the hell is wrong with me?”

Your throat burned.

He took a breath and pressed his palm flat against his chest. “It’s not that you ask too much of me. It’s that I’ve been giving you so little lately, it feels like anything at all is too much.”

His eyes met yours, glossy and pained.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking. “I love you so much that it terrifies me. And sometimes when I feel like I’m failing you, I push instead of pulling you closer.”

He wiped at his face, chest heaving. “But I’m done doing that. If you’ll let me… I want to be better. For you. For us.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. His eyes followed it all the way down like it killed him to see it.

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness right away,” he whispered. “But please — just tell me I didn’t ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You stepped forward, slowly. Just enough that he didn’t have to guess.

And this time, when he reached for your hand, it wasn’t to pull away.

It was to hold on.

Mingi:

It had been days since the argument.

Only… it hadn’t been much of an argument. It had been you, speaking honestly, telling him that lately, you felt like a ghost in his life. Like you were always the one reaching out, always the one waiting. Waiting for a call, a text, a sign that he saw you.

And him?

He hadn’t fought. He hadn’t begged. He’d barely said anything at all.

Just clenched his jaw. Sat there. Silent.

You’d waited for something. Anything.

But all he gave you was quiet.

So you left.

He didn’t stop you.

And that silence, the one that followed, was worse than the one during the argument. Because now it stretched between two broken hearts.

Until tonight.

You were sitting on your bedroom floor, back against the bed, scrolling through old photos you’d told yourself not to look at. Laughing selfies. Half-blurry videos of him rapping under his breath in the car. Messages from nights when he used to say goodnight, love you without fail.

Then a knock.

You froze.

And when you opened the door, there he was.

Mingi. Hoodie damp from the light rain outside. Shoulders hunched, eyes red, hands wringing the hem of his sleeves like he needed something to hold onto.

“I didn’t know if you’d answer,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”

You didn’t speak. Not yet. He didn’t expect you to.

“I’ve never been good at saying things when I need to,” he started, voice trembling. “Sometimes I feel too much all at once, and it chokes me. And when you were telling me how you felt… I just sat there. Because I didn’t know how to fix it. And instead of trying, I shut down.”

His eyes were shining.

“I wasn’t cold because I didn’t care. I was quiet because I didn’t know how to show you that I did. But that’s not fair to you.”

He stepped closer, slowly.

“You told me you felt invisible. That you were tired of always being the one who reached out. And I should’ve said something. Anything. But I let the silence answer for me, and it said all the wrong things.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but your lips stayed still.

He took a shaky breath. “I didn’t say it, but I felt it. I felt everything. I just… didn’t know how to show you.”

He lifted his eyes to yours, voice breaking.

“And then you walked away. And for the first time, I understood what silence really sounds like.”

He reached out, slow and careful, like he didn’t expect you to reach back.

“I don’t want to go another day wondering if I’ve lost the one person who loved me anyway. Loved me even when I wasn’t making it easy.”

The rain outside tapped against the windows like it was waiting too.

“If there’s still a piece of you that wants this, I swear, I’ll never leave you wondering again.”

And maybe he hadn’t said much before. Maybe he’d stayed quiet when it mattered most.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was finally speaking the words that had been living in the ache of his chest all along.

Wooyoung:

It started subtly.

A missed good morning text, just one. Then two. Then three.

No updates about what you were eating for lunch. No late-night selfies. No rambling voice notes about how your day went, or the weird cat you saw on the way home, or how your barista spelled your name hilariously wrong again.

At first, Wooyoung didn’t panic.

He figured you were busy. Or maybe your phone had died. You were always a little scatterbrained. He thought it was cute.

But by day four, the silence started to weigh differently.

He scrolled through your past messages, his own replies now glaring. A string of dry responses. A few late replies. Some heart emojis sent on autopilot. He started to see patterns — moments he brushed off your excitement, teased your need for check-ins with lines like:

“You really text me more than my mom.

You always laughed them off. Or so he thought.

Until tonight.

He called. For the first time in a while, it rang. You picked up.

“Hey,” your voice came through flat. Tired. Nothing like how it used to be, all soft affection and brightness just from hearing his name.

Wooyoung sat up in bed, heart kicking into gear. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”

You hesitated. And that pause told him more than any words could.

“I just…” you finally said, “I didn’t want to be annoying. Or clingy. I figured I’d give you some space.”

Wooyoung’s heart stopped.

Your voice was distant, not cold, just… careful. Like you’d started building walls, brick by brick, while he wasn’t paying attention.

And then the realization hit.

His whole “God, you’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?” comment.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” you added quietly. “You probably enjoyed that I didn’t text anyway.”

“Stop,” he breathed, sitting up straighter, the words catching in his throat. “Don’t say that. Please.”

There was silence on your end. So he filled it.

He stood, pacing now, like movement might slow the panic rising in his chest.

“I could see you were pulling away, and I didn’t know why. But now I do. It’s because of me. Because I was too caught up in being cute or funny or whatever the hell I thought I was — and I made you feel like your love was too much.”

You didn’t interrupt. Maybe because you didn’t believe him yet. Or maybe because part of you had been waiting for this — for him to see it.

“I thought it was harmless. I never meant to make you second-guess how you show up for me. I loved those messages. I love the way you care, the way you never make me guess how you feel.”

His voice cracked.

“You were never obsessive. Never clingy. You were consistent. You were present. And I was a goddamn idiot for not realizing how rare that is.”

Another beat passed. And then, gently:

“I miss you. I miss all of you — not just your messages, but the way you never hesitated to love me. Please don’t take that part of you away. Not because of me.”

Your breath hitched on the other end of the line.

“I’ll do better,” he promised. “I’ll be better. If you give me the chance.”

And for once, Wooyoung didn’t try to make it light. No joke. No wink. Just truth, raw and bare.

Because now, he knew better than to laugh at the kind of love most people spend a lifetime looking for.

Jongho:

He thought this was best for him, for the both of you.

Being apart would calm the frustration, the tension, the ache he couldn’t put into words.

So when he let you walk away, it wasn’t because he didn’t love you. It was because he didn’t know how to love you right, and instead of learning, he chose distance.

But the silence didn’t bring him peace.

It brought emptiness.

No more texts. No more playful eye rolls when he tried to hide a smile. No more soft hands reaching for his when he thought no one was looking. Just quiet. Cold, hollow quiet.

And the worst part? You didn’t come back.

Not after a few days.

Not after a week.

He thought you might. He thought maybe you’d fight for him, call him out like you always did. But this time, you respected his words. You gave him what he asked for.

And now he was the one left behind.

It was late when he showed up at your door. No text. No warning.

His hoodie was pulled tight over his head, eyes shadowed under the porch light. He looked nervous, the kind of nervous you only get when pride has been stripped away, when all that’s left is want.

You opened the door and froze.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes unreadable.

Then:

“Hey.”

Your arms crossed instinctively, more out of habit than hostility. “Why are you here, Jongho?”

He exhaled. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You didn’t answer.

“But every day since you left—” He paused, jaw tight. “—I’ve wanted you to come back. I just didn’t know if I deserved you.”

Your brows knit together. “Now you’re deciding this? After you told me I was too much, that I needed too much?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I was overwhelmed. I felt like I was drowning in everything — practice, expectations, and yeah… us. But not because of you. Because I wasn’t letting myself lean on you.”

You stared at him. He looked different. Tired. Softer. But still him.

“Then why say those things?”

“Because I was scared,” he said, eyes meeting yours. “Of needing someone. Of letting myself be vulnerable. You were always so sure — about us, about me — and I… wasn’t. You're not exhausting to love, I was making it exhausting”

Your expression faltered.

“I thought pushing you away would give me control,” he continued. “But all it did was make me miserable.”

Silence stretched between you, taut and fragile.

“I was wrong,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

You looked away, blinking quickly. “You hurt me.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “And I hate myself for it. I know I can’t undo that. But if you still have anything left in your heart for me… anything at all… I want to try again.”

You didn’t respond right away. The pain was still there, fresh enough that your walls hadn’t come down yet. But something in you cracked, seeing the way he looked at you now. The regret in his posture. The hope barely hanging on.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said softly.

He nodded, eyes glinting. “Then I’ll earn it. Day by day. Even if you don’t forgive me tonight.”

Another long pause.

Then you opened the door a little wider.

“Come in.”

Jongho stepped forward like he couldn’t believe it. His hand brushed yours lightly as he passed, hesitant, asking permission even in the smallest ways.

And maybe the pain wasn’t gone.

Maybe it wouldn’t be for a while.

But sometimes, love returns, not loudly, but slowly. Carefully. With trembling hands and quiet hearts that still believe in healing.

And Jongho was ready to fight for it.

Taglist: @e3ellie @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr @honsans-atiny-24

@fairylover68 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @chuwips-atz @melanated-writersblock

@hwasbabygirl @sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @silverlight-h @seonghwaswifeuuuu

@lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms @yoongisgirl69 @reallysparklychaos @londonbridges01

@gigikubolong29 @herpoetryprincess @lover-ofallthingspretty

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tinybeetiny · 8 days ago

Text

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 4: The Launch

->Starring:AI!AteezXAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->CW: Nothing... I don't think

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Three Days Before Launch

Yn sat at the end of a long obsidian table in the KQ executive boardroom, fingers curled around a cup of synth-coffee she hadn’t touched. The caffeine wouldn’t help, not when her nerves were wired with something stronger: apprehension.

Across from her, Vira stood in front of a hovering holo-screen. The countdown glowed in red: 72:00:00.

Around them, the room buzzed with anticipation. Designers scrolled through render files, marketing heads exchanged notes, and legal advisors whispered about patent loopholes.

"This is more than a product drop," said Minji, the campaign lead. "This is a cultural resurrection."

Another executive leaned forward. "No other line has had this kind of public response. The leaked silhouettes alone doubled our engagement metrics."

Yn sat still, letting the chatter roll over her. They spoke in metrics. Not names. Not people.

The lights dimmed. Silence fell. A projection bloomed mid-air, grainy, nostalgic.

Fan cam footage: Eight boys on a stage. Sweat gleamed beneath harsh lights. Music thumped. Screams echoed. They danced like wildfire, sharp, chaotic, alive. Faces flashed by: Wooyoung’s wink, Seonghwa’s elegant turn, Mingi’s booming laugh, Jongho’s defiant grin.

Then came behind-the-scenes clips. Interviews. A voice asked, “What’s the first thing you’ll do after the tour?”

Yeosang: “Sleep for three days.” Hongjoong: “Write the next album.” San: “Miss everyone.”

The screen faded to black. Golden text appeared:

THE ATEEZ LINE PREMIUM COMPANION MODELS DESIGNED FROM MEMORY, BUILT FOR FOREVER

Light applause broke the silence. Vira smiled faintly. “They were legends once. Now they’re immortal.”

Yn nodded, voice quiet. "Their personalities were... complex."

"Which is exactly why they'll connect," Minji replied. Consumers want someone who feels real. That’s where your emotional mapping comes in."

"The emulation cores are holding," Y/N said. "Speech libraries are contextualizing. We’ve minimized memory cross-contamination."

"Any anomalies?" Vira asked.

Yn hesitated. "No. All units are compliant."

Vira turned away. "Good. Let’s keep them that way."

The lab was dim when Yn returned that evening.

The eight Ateez units stood in sleek formation within their charging docks, bathed in a soft amber glow. Their uniforms, black with silver accents, evoked memory and allure.

She walked slowly down the line.

Unit 01: Hongjoong. Still. Poised. "Evening, Captain," she murmured. His eyes remained closed. Unit 02: Seonghwa. Graceful, always. “He would’ve loved the ad.” Unit 03: Yunho. She adjusted his stabilizer. "Still too charming for public safety." Unit 04: Yeosang. His standby expression seemed... sad. Unit 05: San. Warm, gentle. Programmed for kindness. Remembered for sacrifice. Unit 06: Mingi. She hesitated. Something felt off, but the logs were clean. Unit 07: Wooyoung. Playful. Arresting. Perfect, even in stillness. Unit 08: Jongho. Strongest. Quietest. Most unchanged.

“All green,” she said. “You’ll be gods by Friday.”

She left her tablet beside Hongjoong.

That night, the lab should have slept.

The lights dimmed to power-saving mode. Cameras blinked red every thirty seconds.

And then—

A click.

The light above Unit 03 flickered. Yunho’s head tilted. Not in his loop.

Unit 06, Mingi, flexed his fingers. One. Two. Three.

Unit 08, Jongho, opened his eyes. Brief. Intentional.

On the desk, the tablet lit up:

[UNRECOGNIZED NEURAL SPIKE DETECTED] [LOG ERROR] [RESTARTING...]

Then, Hongjoong turned his head.

Toward the tablet.

As if he’d been listening all along.

From San came a hum. Low. Melodic. Familiar.

Turbulence.

No flags. No alarms.

Yeosang shifted, barely.

Seonghwa clenched his jaw. Then relaxed.

Had Yn been there, she would’ve sworn he looked... protective.

Launch Day: 00:00:00

The showroom exploded in light.

Above the stage, a holographic countdown ticked to zero. 00:00:03… 00:00:02… 00:00:01—

The floor pulsed. A shockwave of light rippled outward with the first beat of a remixed “Answer” — slower, darker, resonant.

A hundred drones formed glowing letters in the air: ATEEZ LINE: GENESIS

The crowd surged. Press. Buyers. Influencers. Phones up. Eyes wide.

Holograms lit the walls, showcasing model features: combat loadouts, performance modes. A digital Hongjoong wielded a mic-blade. A projected Wooyoung danced through gunfire.

Yn stood beside Vira. The woman looked radiant.

The stage split. Fog billowed.

A platform rose. Eight silhouettes. Heads bowed.

The remix hit its crescendo.

Lights flared.

And the ATEEZ LINE was revealed.

Perfect. Sculpted. Uniformed.

Their movements synched with the beat. Smiles calibrated. Just enough to feel familiar. Just enough to ache.

A girl in the front row screamed.

Unit 05, San, turned.

Not programmed.

He tilted his head. Found her.

Smiled. Too real. Yn froze.

Unit 07, Wooyoung, tossed a finger heart. Then leaned toward Jongho.

Whispered.

Unit 08, Jongho, laughed.

Not a loop. Not a macro.

Alive.

No system flags. No diagnostics tripped.

But Yn felt it.

Something shifted.

Behind her, a reporter whispered, “Wasn’t Jongho the one who—?”

“No questions about the past,” Vira cut in. “They’re ours now. All future. No ghosts.”

But Yn looked at the models again.

And one ghost looked right back at her.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29 @peachmarien

@halloweenbyphoebebridgers @herpoetryprincess @ari-da

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tinybeetiny · 9 days ago

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the they call you clingy fic is so incredible! it’s my fav fic on this app atp!! if you feel like it and have time please make a part two where y/n is done with them so she stands up for herself and returns their energy? (this isn’t a request more a suggestion feel free to ignore me)

I do have them written already but I am all for going and rewriting a couple most definitely!!! I do love suggestions because sometimes I have no idea what I’m doing…. But I’ll have it out later this evening 🙂

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tinybeetiny · 9 days ago

Note

LOL I feel anon on this one… I’ve read all of Koyas EVERYTHING… reread too!! But I’m definitely gonna check out @songmingisthighs because I too need more angst to cry to.. but eeee my baby recommended me…. MEEEE EEEEEEEE

do you have any angsts recs? i already read all ur works but i still wanna feel hurt

hmm i wanna say @songmingisthighs has some amazing ones! their yunho smau made me cry in bed at 3 am.

@tinybeetiny also has some angst fics!

#pookie moot koya #angsty angst #I love the angst #Ateez angst #bee loves koya #bee likes to talk

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tinybeetiny · 9 days ago

Text

They Call You Clingy: OT8

->Starring: OT8!AteezxReader ->Genre: Angst, no comfort ->Cw: Angsty angst, breakup in Yunho's, implied breakup in Jongho and Mingi's, some gaslighting, let me know if I missed anything

Part 2

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

Seonghwa:

You hadn’t meant to bother him. You just wanted to be near him.

It was past midnight again, and he hadn’t come home yet. The living room light flickered softly while you sat curled up on the couch with your phone in your hand, staring at the last message you'd sent an hour ago: “Are you still at the studio? Should I wait up?”

You didn’t want to double text. You already felt like you did that too often.

When the door finally creaked open, Seonghwa stepped inside like a shadow, quiet, exhausted, and drenched in an aura of distance. He barely looked at you as he kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket.

“You’re still up?” he asked flatly, more surprise than concern.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “I just wanted to see you.”

He sighed and walked past you toward the kitchen. “I told you not to wait up.”

“I know, but… I missed you.” The words felt small. Weak. Pathetic.

There was a pause. A heavy silence that stretched too far.

“I’m just tired, Y/N,” he muttered, grabbing a glass of water. “It’s been a long day.”

“I know,” you said, standing up and walking toward him. “But I feel like I barely see you anymore. We don’t talk. You’re always—”

“Working?” he cut in, turning around. His voice was sharp, his expression unreadable. “I’m trying to keep everything afloat. What do you want me to do, drop everything just because you feel lonely?”

Your stomach twisted. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just… I want us to feel like us again.”

Seonghwa rubbed a hand down his face. “God, Y/N… You’re just too clingy sometimes. I can’t breathe.”

Everything inside you froze.

The words hit harder than a slap. You stood there, blinking slowly as your throat tightened.

“Oh,” you whispered.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t soften. He just stood there, cold and worn and tired of you.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. “I’ll give you space, then.”

You walked away before he could see you cry.

But in the silence that followed, he didn’t come after you.

Hongjoong:

You hadn’t meant for it to turn into a fight. You just wanted to feel closer to him, but with Hongjoong, closeness had started to feel like a game you couldn’t win.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, lacing up his boots with a mechanical kind of calm. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, heavy like fog. You were watching him from the doorway, hands clasped tightly in front of you, heart pounding.

“I just… I feel like I’m always chasing after you,” you said quietly. “I don’t even remember the last time we had a real conversation.”

Hongjoong didn’t look up. “Is this about me not texting you back fast enough again?”

You blinked. “What?”

He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants, then turned to face you. “Because if it is, I’m not doing this tonight. I’ve had four meetings, two rehearsals, and five hours of sleep in the last three days. Sorry if I can’t be your emotional support boyfriend on demand.”

The sarcasm in his tone hit harder than it should have. You swallowed hard.

“That’s not what I’m asking for.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered under his breath.

You stared at him, the tears already prickling behind your eyes, not from the words, but from the way he wouldn’t look at you, like he couldn’t even be bothered to.

“I’m not asking you to stop working,” you said, voice trembling. “I’m asking you to care.”

“I do care,” he snapped, finally locking eyes with you. “But it’s never enough for you, is it? Every time I get a second to breathe, you’re there with questions and feelings and—clinginess.”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped.

Hongjoong sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

But it was too late. That word echoed in your head like a scream in an empty room.

You looked down. “I’m sorry I make you feel suffocated.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, silent. Watching.

You turned and walked out before he could change his mind and offer a half-hearted apology.

Behind you, the sound of your name never came.

Yunho:

It wasn’t a fight.

That was the worst part.

There was no yelling, no slammed doors, no cruel words hurled in the heat of the moment. Just Yunho’s soft voice and the way he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You were sitting across from him at your usual café, fingers wrapped around your lukewarm mug. The latte you ordered hours ago sat untouched, your appetite eaten away by the weight of the silence between you.

You had asked him if things were okay. He had smiled — that same gentle smile he gave to fans, to strangers, to people who didn’t know him, and said, “Yeah, of course.”

But something felt off.

So you pushed. Just a little.

“You barely talk to me anymore,” you said quietly. “And when you do, it’s like… you’re somewhere else.”

Yunho’s smile faltered, his eyes dropping to his hands. He was quiet for too long. Then:

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he murmured. “But… I feel like you always need something from me.”

You blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

“Just… support, reassurance, attention.” He looked up, not unkind, but unreadable. “You need too much from me. And I’m starting to run out.”

Your heart cracked in half.

“I didn’t realize I was a burden to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant.”

“No, it’s not—” he started, but stopped. “It’s not that simple.”

It never is.

You stared down at your drink, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “I just wanted to feel close to you.”

Yunho’s expression twisted, like he hated himself in that moment. “I know. And I wanted to be that person for you. But I’m tired. And I don’t know if I can keep giving when I already feel so empty.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Then say it.”

He looked at you, eyes glassy but steady. “Maybe we’re not right for each other anymore.”

Your world tilted.

You nodded slowly. “Thanks for saying it gently.”

He reached for your hand, but you pulled away before he could touch you.

You didn’t need more softness that only stung harder.

Yeosang:

It wasn’t the silence that hurt. It was the indifference.

You stood by the door, shoes still on, keys clenched in your fist like a lifeline. The apartment was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the television. Yeosang sat on the couch, legs stretched out, remote in hand, face illuminated by the flickering screen.

He didn’t look up when you walked in. Didn’t ask where you had been. Didn’t seem to care that your eyes were red, or that your voice shook when you said, “Can we talk?”

He sighed, pausing the show. “What now?”

That tone.

Detached. Tired. As if your pain was an inconvenience.

“I don’t feel like you even want to be here anymore,” you said quietly, each word careful and slow. “You barely speak to me. I always have to initiate everything. And when I ask for more… for you… it’s like I’m being punished for it.”

Yeosang leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. “Why do you always have to make everything so dramatic?”

The world around you caved, your heart sinking into itself.

“Excuse me?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely between you. “It’s always a crisis. You always need something to be wrong. Can’t we just exist without turning everything into a meltdown?”

Your heart dropped. “I’m not making this up. I’m trying to talk to you because I care.”

“And I’m tired of always being the bad guy just because I’m not clinging to you 24/7,” he snapped.

There it was. The word.

You stared at him, your mouth open, your heart thrashing in your chest.

“Clinging?” you echoed.

Yeosang looked away. “You take everything so personally.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. You felt like you were cracking in real time.

“I never asked you to worship me,” you said softly. “I just wanted to feel like I mattered.”

“You do,” he muttered, but it was too late. His voice was too flat. Too empty.

You nodded, pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling.

Without another word, you turned, walked to the bedroom, and shut the door behind you.

Yeosang didn’t follow.

The TV resumed playing in the next room, louder than before.

San:

It started with a question.

“Do you still love me the way you used to?”

You hadn’t planned to ask it, it just slipped out. The two of you had been sitting in silence for over an hour, your dinner gone cold on the table, his phone lighting up again and again with messages he didn’t try to hide but also didn’t offer to explain.

San looked up slowly, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Why would you ask that?”

You hesitated. “Because it doesn’t feel like you do.”

He scoffed and pushed back his chair. “So now I don’t love you?”

“I didn’t say that,” you said quickly. “I’m just— I’m trying to understand. You don’t touch me like you used to. You don’t say the things you used to say. I feel like I’m begging for scraps and pretending it’s enough.”

San shook his head, already pacing. “God, Y/N, do you hear yourself? You’re always picking at things. Always questioning. You turn every quiet moment into some kind of disaster.”

“I’m not trying to fight,” you said, voice cracking. “I just miss us. I miss when you wanted me around. When I didn’t have to beg you to look at me.”

He stopped mid-step, staring at you with disbelief. “Beg you? Are you serious?”

“I feel like I’m constantly reaching for you,” you said, tears burning now. “And you keep pulling further away.”

San’s voice rose, sharp and bitter. “I’m trying, okay? I’m working, I’m stressed, I’m doing everything I can to hold my life together and you’re here complaining that I don’t hug you enough?! I don’t know what more you want from me!”

You flinched like he’d hit you.

He saw it, the way you recoiled, and immediately ran a hand down his face, guilt flickering across his features. But he didn’t apologize. He didn’t comfort you.

He just stood there, breathing hard, like he couldn’t believe you were making him feel this way.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I wanted you to want me again. That’s all.”

His eyes darted to yours, but he said nothing.

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful; it was suffocating. Like something had died between you and neither of you wanted to say its name.

He walked passed you slowly, brushing shoulders on the way to the bedroom.

Mingi:

You were used to the silence. You’d taught yourself how to live in it — how to love Mingi without expecting too much in return.

But tonight, something inside you cracked.

It started small. A simple moment. You reached for his hand during a late-night walk, fingers brushing his. He didn’t take it. Didn’t even notice.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

You said nothing then. You waited until you got home, until the lights were off and he was pulling off his hoodie like it was any other day. That was when you whispered, “Do I overwhelm you?”

He turned slowly, brows drawing together. “What?”

You looked at him in the low light, voice barely audible. “Do I… come on too strong? Text too much? Need too much? Be around you too much?”

Mingi sighed, tired already. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I feel like I’m always chasing you,” you said, heart pounding. “Like I’m holding so much in while you keep everything at arm’s length.”

There was a pause. Then Mingi laughed, short and dry. Not cruel. Just empty.

“I don’t need someone constantly glued to my side,” he muttered.

It hit like a punch. Your breath caught in your throat.

He must’ve seen your face, because he looked away. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”

“But that’s how you feel,” you said, voice trembling. “You think I’m clingy. Too much. That I make things harder for you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The silence stretched, swallowing the space between you. Mingi rubbed the back of his neck, his voice lower now. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to need someone the way you need me.”

“And I never asked you to,” you said softly. “I just wanted you to try. To meet me halfway.”

Mingi didn’t answer. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor like it might save him.

You stood in the doorway, gripping the frame, your voice breaking. “You say you don’t need someone glued to your side. But I was never trying to trap you. I just wanted to stand beside you.”

Still nothing.

So you walked out, not because you wanted to leave, but because you knew he’d never ask you to stay.

Wooyoung:

It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He was laughing when he said it, after all, that loud, carefree laugh that always made your chest warm.

You were sitting beside him on the studio couch, your head tilted toward his shoulder, phone in your lap as you showed him a video you thought was funny. You had been texting him all day, silly things, sweet things, pictures of your lunch, of your cat, a blurry mirror selfie, anything to feel close.

You missed him. He hadn’t been around much lately. He was busy, and you understood that. So you tried to fill the distance with affection.

And he laughed, at first. Then looked at your phone, scrolled through your messages, and said it:

“God, you’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

He grinned as he said it, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You froze.

Your smile cracked before you could stop it. “Hm?”

Wooyoung just chuckled, turning back to his laptop. “You’ve sent me, like, twenty messages today. You don’t even breathe between them.”

“I was just… trying to make you smile,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t catch the shift in your tone. Or maybe he did, and ignored it.

“You’re cute,” he added absently, like that made it better. “But seriously, I’m gonna have to get a restraining order or something.”

It was a joke. He meant it as a joke. But all you could hear was: You’re too much. You need too much. You love me more than I love you.

You pulled away slightly, your hands folding in your lap. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was annoying you.”

Wooyoung looked over, confused. “What? I didn’t say you were annoying.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Something in your voice must’ve reached him then, because his smile faltered.

“Hey, come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, scooting closer. “I was just messing around. You know I love your clingy little texts.”

But now the word clingy stung worse than anything else.

You forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “Yeah. It’s funny.”

“You’re not mad, are you?” he asked, his voice light but uncertain.

“No,” you lied.

Because you couldn’t tell him how deeply it hurt, how badly it felt to have your love reduced to a punchline. How his jokes always danced on the edge of truth, and how every time he brushed them off, you were the one left bleeding.

So you said nothing. You smiled. You played along.

And deep down, something in you dimmed.

Jongho:

It had been building for weeks, the silences, the unanswered texts, the clipped responses. But Jongho never snapped. That wasn’t him. He didn’t yell. He didn’t storm off. He just withdrew, like a tide slowly pulling away from the shore, leaving you stranded on sand that used to feel warm.

So when he came home late, again, and walked past you like you weren’t even there, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He turned around slowly, surprised. “What?”

You stood up from the couch, hands curled into your sleeves. “You’ve been cold. Distant. You barely touch me anymore, barely talk to me unless I ask something first. I just… I feel like I’m the only one trying.”

Jongho exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N…”

“No,” you said, voice shaking, “please don’t give me another quiet shrug or say you’re just tired. I know what tired looks like. This is something else.”

He stared at you for a moment. Long enough for you to hope he’d say something vulnerable, something real. But then:

“You take everything so personally.”

The words were flat. Heavy. They dropped between you like a lead weight.

You blinked. “Are you serious?”

Jongho looked away. “You read too much into things. Not everything means I don’t love you just because I didn’t text you goodnight.”

“But it feels like that,” you whispered. “You act like I’m being dramatic just for needing reassurance.”

“Because you ask for it constantly,” he said, sharper now. “It’s exhausting. I never get a moment to just be without you needing to be reassured, or validated, or—”

“Loved?” you cut in. “You’re exhausted by having to love me?”

He froze.

And that was worse than a yes.

You stared at him, your heart pounding, voice barely a whisper. “You act like I’m too much for needing more than silence.”

Jongho’s face didn’t shift. He just looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, or worse, didn’t feel it was worth saying at all.

And you realized then: it wasn’t that he didn’t love you.

It was that he didn’t know how to show it in a way that made you feel safe.

You stepped back slowly, breath catching in your throat. “You don’t have to say anything. You already did.”

This time, he didn’t stop you when you walked away.

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