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You're the only one who understands... // I.N x male reader
Synopsis: When I.N can't hold it together anymore, m/n doesn't try to fix him. He listens and he stays. And slowly, I.N learns his favorite sound is someone who hears him
Type: One-Shot ( 1,204 words)
Genre(s): 🍂, 🫂 (see pinned post for key)
Extra Notes: reminder that 🪐 stands for M/n!
Story under the cut!!
Practice dragged longer than usual that night, the kind of endless loop where every step felt wrong and every note cracked. His bandmates noticed- they always did, but their "you okay?" questions only made him shrink smaller. By the time he stumbled into the dorm, all he wanted was silence.
Except 🪐 was there. Curled up on the couch with a book, earbuds dangling loose around his neck, not even pretending to read. Just waiting. Like he always did when I.N came home looking like this.
"You're back," 🪐 said softly, setting the book aside. No pity, no pressure. Just fact.
I.N nodded, dropping his bag by the door. His throat felt tight already. "Yeah."
"Want company?"
He hesitated. Then, "…yeah."
They ended up in I.N's room because it was quieter there. No kitchen clatter, no TV hum from the living room where the members were. Just the two of them on the bed, backs against the wall, knees brushing. 🪐 didn't push for words, he never did. Instead, he pulled out his phone and tapped play on a playlist- soft piano, rain sounds, nothing too cheerful.
I.N closed his eyes and let it wash over him. Minutes passed like that. Or maybe hours. Time blurred when 🪐 was near.
"You don't have to stay," I.N mumbled eventually, eyes still shut. "I'm just… being stupid."
"You're not stupid." 🪐's voice was gentle but firm, like he was correcting a fact. "You're tired. That's different."
I.N cracked one eye open. 🪐 was watching him, head tilted, that soft smile playing at his lips. The one that said I see you, and it's okay.
"Tell me something," 🪐 said then, scooting closer until their shoulders pressed together. "Not about today. Something small."
"Like what?"
"Anything. Favorite color this week? Weirdest dream you had?"
I.N huffed a laugh despite himself. "My favorite color changes every time you wear that blue sweater."
🪐 blinked, then grinned. "Noted. I'll wear it tomorrow."
It became their thing without either of them planning it.
🪐 listening. I.N unraveling.
Some nights it was practice stress- choreography that tripped him up, lyrics that wouldn't stick. Other nights it was deeper, quieter worries: Am I good enough? Will I always be the baby? What if I mess up when it matters?
🪐 never interrupted. Never tried to fix it. He just listened. Nodding at the right moments, humming when words ran dry, passing over tissues when tears slipped free.
"You're really good at this," I.N said one night, voice thick after a particularly bad day. His head rested on 🪐's shoulder, cheeks damp. "Why?"
"Because you deserve someone who stays," 🪐 replied simply, fingers carding gently through I.N's hair. "And because your voice, even when it's shaky, is my favorite sound."
I.N's breath hitched. He wanted to argue, to say he sounded pathetic right now, but the warmth in 🪐's tone stopped him. Instead, he just leaned closer.
The night it all spilled out was worse than usual.
I.N burst through the door past midnight, eyes red-rimmed, slamming it hard enough to rattle the frame. He didn't even make it to his room — just collapsed onto the living room floor, knees to chest, head buried.
🪐 was there in seconds.
"Hey," he whispered, kneeling in front of him. "Hey, it's me."
I.N shook his head violently. "I can't, I can't do this anymore. They're all so good, and I'm just… I'm failing. Every day. Every single.."
His voice broke into sobs, raw and ugly, the kind he'd hidden from everyone else. Shoulders shaking, breaths gasping. He hated how small he felt.
But 🪐 didn't flinch. He slid onto the floor beside him, arms wrapping around I.N's trembling frame without hesitation. Pulled him in until I.N's face pressed into his chest, tears soaking through his shirt.
"You're not failing," 🪐 murmured into his hair, rocking them both gently. "You're growing. And it's scary, but you're doing it. Every day you show up, that's not failure. That's brave."
I.N clutched at his back, fingers twisting in fabric. "It doesn't feel brave."
"I know. But it is." 🪐's hand rubbed slow circles over his spine. "And you don't have to carry it alone. Not with me here."
They stayed like that until the sobs quieted to hiccups, then soft sniffles. I.N didn't pull away. Couldn't. 🪐's heartbeat was steady under his ear, a rhythm more comforting than any playlist.
Eventually, 🪐 tugged him up to the couch. Blanket draped over them both, hot chocolate steaming on the table (🪐 must've made it while I.N was zoned out).
"Talk more?" 🪐 offered, one arm still around I.N's shoulders.
I.N shook his head. "Just… stay?"
"Always."
The quiet stretched, warm now instead of heavy. I.N traced patterns on 🪐's knee with his fingertip, grounding himself in the simple motion.
"You know," he said after a while, voice steadier, "I used to think I had to be perfect for people to like me."
🪐 tilted his head to look at him. "And now?"
"Now I think…" I.N swallowed, cheeks flushing. "Maybe they like me best when I'm a mess. Because you do."
🪐's eyes softened, impossibly tender. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. "I like every version of you. Mess and all."
I.N's heart stuttered. Before he could overthink it, he closed the gap — a soft, hesitant kiss that tasted like salt and chocolate. 🪐 kissed back gently, like he was handling something precious.
When they parted, I.N whispered, "Thank you for listening."
🪐 smiled, thumb brushing his cheek. "Thank you for letting me."
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains. I.N woke first, blinking at 🪐 curled beside him, lashes fanned over freckled cheeks. He looked so peaceful like this- unguarded, real.
I.N didn't deserve him. But maybe, just maybe, he could learn to believe he did.
He pressed a feather-light kiss to 🪐's temple, then settled back down. Listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing.
For the first time in weeks, the world didn't feel so heavy.
Synopsis: Changbin is hopelessly in love with a boy from his Chem class. He's smart, pretty, and really kind. But for some reason, Changbins friends dont like this boy. Changbin ignored them and kept rrying to be m/n's friend until he saw something he shouldn't have.
Type: One-Shot (1,206 words)
Genre(s): ❣️,🫂(check pinned post for guide)
Extra Notes: reminder that 🪐 stands for m/n!!
Story under the cut!!
Changbin wasn’t supposed to fall for him.
At least, that’s what his friends said.
🪐 sat at the back of their Chemistry lab, right next to the window, the kind of seat that always caught sunlight. And maybe that’s why Changbin kept glancing that way. The boy’s hair glowed soft gold under the light, his sleeves always just a little too long for his hands, and he had that quiet brilliance that made every teacher smile when he spoke.
“Why do you keep staring?” Jisung muttered one day, scribbling in his notebook.
“I’m just paying attention,” Changbin defended, though his ears turned pink.
“Sure,” Jisung said. “To him.”
The others laughed. But Changbin didn’t care- not really. 🪐 was kind to everyone, the type who lent out pens without being asked, who smiled when people bumped into him in the hallway. When Changbin’s experiment went up in smoke that one disastrous Thursday, 🪐 was the one who rushed over with a towel and made sure he wasn’t burned.
That’s how it started.
“Are you okay?” 🪐 had asked, concerned eyes so close Changbin forgot how to speak for a second.
“Yeah, yeah- I’m good. Just… testing the limits of chemistry,” Changbin had joked, and 🪐 laughed, soft and bright, like the sound of glass clinking gently.
From then on, they worked together sometimes. Exchange of notes in the middle of class, quick waves in the hallway, little conversations that lingered too long.
And every day, Changbin fell a bit deeper.
At lunch, his friends would tease him endlessly.
“I don’t get why you like that guy,” Seungmin said, stabbing his tray with his fork. “He’s weird.”
“He’s not weird,” Changbin shot back. “He’s just quiet.”
“Quiet and sketchy,” Jisung added. “Did you know he leaves school early sometimes? Like during fourth period? People said they saw bruises on his neck last week.”
Changbin frowned. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” Jisung said, shrugging. “Just saying.”
Still, Changbin refused to believe it. 🪐 didn’t look like someone who did anything wrong. He smiled at teachers, he held the lab doors open, he was good. Too good, maybe.
So when Changbin saw him after school one day, sitting alone near the track, he didn’t hesitate to walk over.
“Hey,” he greeted, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
🪐 looked up, blinking out of thought. “Oh hey, Changbin. Yeah, just… waiting for someone, I guess.”
“Mind if I wait with you?”
The boy smiled faintly. “Not at all.”
For a while, they just sat there, watching the sunset paint the clouds in streaks of orange and pink. The kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward, it just existed like background warmth.
“So,” Changbin said finally, “your friends ditched you?”
🪐 chuckled. “If I had any, yeah.”
“Hey, you’ve got me.”
That earned him another smile. And for a split second, Changbin swore he saw light flicker behind 🪐’s eyes again- something genuine and grateful.
The next few weeks blurred into a pattern of comfortable chaos- shared jokes over chemical formulas, 🪐 passing notes folded into tiny stars, and Changbin pretending not to notice how his heart jumped every time their hands brushed.
He told himself he was fine being just friends.
But then came that Friday afternoon.
Changbin had stayed after class to grab his forgotten notebook. The halls were empty, quiet except for distant chatter. As he turned the corner near the back stairwell, he stopped.
🪐 was standing there- cornered.
A tall man, maybe a few years older, loomed over him, gripping his wrist hard enough that it turned pale.
“Please,” 🪐 whispered. His voice trembled. “I said I don’t have it right now- just give me a few days-”
“Don’t lie to me,” the man hissed. Changbin’s gut twisted. “You think you can keep running?”
Changbin didn’t think. He just moved.
“Hey!” he barked, his voice echoing down the hall. “Let him go!”
The man flinched, releasing 🪐 long enough for him to stumble back. Before either could say more, the stranger shoved past Changbin and disappeared through the exit door. The slam echoed like thunder.
“Are you okay?” Changbin rushed over, his hands hovering uncertainly.
🪐 nodded too quickly, still shaking. “Y-yeah, it’s fine. You shouldn’t have… seen that.”
“What was that? Who was that?”
“It’s nothing,” 🪐 said softly, pulling down his sleeve when Changbin’s eyes caught the fresh bruise forming. “Just a mistake.”
Changbin frowned. “That didn’t look like nothing.”
“Please, Changbin,” 🪐 said, voice breaking this time. “Just forget it, okay? Pretend it didn’t happen.”
There was fear in his tone. Not cold or secretive, but desperate. And Changbin realized this wasn’t about him not trusting; it was about him trying to survive.
He didn’t push further.
Instead, he sat beside him on the floor, their shoulders touching lightly. The silence stretched again, heavy but safe.
After a while, 🪐 whispered, “Why’d you help me?”
“Because you’d do the same,” Changbin said simply. “And because I like you, okay? And not in a weird way, you just… make things feel less messy.”
🪐 looked at him, startled, then laughed weakly. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Changbin said with a grin. “But I’m your idiot now.”
🪐 blinked, and the corner of his lips lifted properly for the first time that day.
The next Monday, their classmates noticed something different.
Changbin still looked at 🪐 like the sun rose for him, but now 🪐 actually looked back. He’d wave, sometimes even sit closer than before. And once, during a lab exercise, he leaned closer and whispered, “Hey, I brought your favorite snacks for break.”
Changbin nearly dropped his beaker. “You.. how did you know?”
“I pay attention,” 🪐 said, grinning wide. “Now focus before you blow us up again.”
The teasing tone was enough to make Jisung nudge Seungmin later. “Guess he finally got through to that weird kid,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Seungmin replied softly. “And maybe that’s a good thing.”
One evening, as they packed their bags after class, 🪐 stopped by the door.
“Hey, Changbin?”
“Yeah?”
“That day,” he said quietly, “when I told you to forget about it… thanks for not listening.”
Changbin smiled and reached out to nudge his shoulder gently. “You don’t have to thank me. Just don’t disappear again, okay?”
🪐 nodded. “Deal.”
And when they walked out together, the sunset wasn’t just golden anymore- it felt alive, as if the world itself had started humming softly again.
Synopsis: For as long as hyunjin can remember, his soulmate was always singing. His voice was angelic, and Hyunjin loved it. He would gush on about his soulmate to his friends, but they all teased him. It was only until Hyunjin bumped into a man on the street that Hyunjin realized his soulmate had stopped singing, and why.
Type: One-Shot (699 words)
Genre(s): 🫂, 🍂(check pinned post for key)
Extra Notes: quick mention!! This does have mentions of child abuse on Felix's end, so if anything here makes you uncomfortable please feel free to keep scrolling!
Another quick mention, some stories will be slightly based off of personal experiences :)
Happy reading!
Story under the cut!!
For as long as Hyunjin could remember, his soulmate had always been singing. The soft hums drifted through his mind like sunlight through a curtain; warm, steady, and familiar. It was a voice that carried him through sleepless nights and rainy mornings, the kind that made the world feel a little less lonely.
Hyunjin loved that voice. He’d talk about it constantly to his friends, describing its tone and the way certain notes shimmered like glass. His friends would tease him, rolling their eyes whenever he gushed about someone he hadn’t even met. But that didn’t matter, Hyunjin didn’t need a name or a face to know he loved his soulmate. The song itself was proof enough.
Then, one morning, the music stopped.
It was so sudden that Hyunjin froze mid-step on his way to school. The silence wasn’t just quiet- it was wrong, like someone had pulled the world’s rhythm away. He tried humming back, hoping to feel that familiar resonance, but there was nothing. Hours turned to days, days to weeks, and still no voice. The empty space it left behind hurt worse than he expected.
Months later, Hyunjin was rushing downtown when he bumped into someone. He was a boy with tired eyes and a soft, startled apology. The moment their hands brushed, something inside Hyunjin clicked. The world snapped into focus. Memories, shared emotions, songs- all of it flooded his chest like a heartbeat.
But when their eyes met, Hyunjin realized why the voice had fallen silent. The boy, his soulmate, looked broken. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and beneath his long sleeves, Hyunjin swore he saw faint bruises near his wrist.
Hyunjin blinked hard after bumping into the stranger, the jolt sending a shock through his whole body. “Oh my gosh, I—I’m so sorry!” he stammered, bending to pick up the stranger’s dropped notebook.
“No, it’s okay,” the man said, his voice quiet, hoarse even, like someone who hadn’t used it in a while.
When Hyunjin handed the notebook back, their fingers brushed, and that familiar pull hit him. Like a note he’d almost forgotten how to hum.
“Wait,” Hyunjin whispered. “You’re… you’re the one who—”
The man looked confused, almost scared. “What do you mean?”
“Your voice,” Hyunjin breathed. “You used to sing.”
A flicker of pain crossed the man’s face. “yes... used to.”
They ended up sitting at a small café nearby, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between them. Hyunjin talked more than he should have- about art, about silly things his friends said- and Felix (that’s what he said his name was, eventually) listened with a soft smile that never went away.
When Hyunjin laughed, Felix tried to echo it. But his laughter always stopped halfway, catching in his throat.
“You okay?” Hyunjin asked gently when Felix rubbed at his wrist absentmindedly.
“Yeah,” Felix said quickly, tugging down his sleeve. “Just tired.”
Hyunjin wanted to believe him. He did. But the way Felix avoided his eyes told a story the words couldn’t. And when Hyunjin caught him humming under his breath- barely audible, cracked and trembling- he realized that some songs don’t stop because they’re over.
That night, alone in his room, Hyunjin finally understood. His soulmate had stopped singing not because the bond had faded… but because life had taken his voice away.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Works belong to @asterifish | reblogs help me a lot!
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ᅠ ❥ 𝒥𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛 managed to be your safe anchor when you spiraled.
─────ᅠ「 ⌗ 정인 」 ── 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 . second youngest reader . caring jeongin . ᅠ w✿rnings ⦂ sitting on his lap . reader is cute in his eyes . ❥ oneshot , with i.n
୨୧ backstage moments right before a concert were usually a mix of chaos and excitement. staff running around making sure everything's good to go, members getting ready and the fans screaming outside.
and there was you, having your hair getting finished by one of their hairstylists while staring at nothing in particular. it was almost as if you were completely lost in your own world, not caring a lot about the concert—when in reality you were. if anything, you were thinking too much about it.
ever since one of your slip ups during a big award event, fans has not being easy on you. everything and anything you did somehow shifted into a reason to hate. from fixing your in-ear, sitting weirdly and taking a second to breathe.
everything.
things that weren't a reason for one to even pay attention now were stuff you spent most nights thinking about. maybe you shouldn't sit cross legged on a chair next time. don't try fixing your equipment mid performance and just wait until the songs are over.
so now, your mind was far, far away from the present.
and jeongin noticed it. because of course he did.
it wasn't hard to see how unfocused and distracted you were, especially when the stylist had to call your name at least four times now to ask if you're doing well.
as much as you tried acting like everything was fine, the members weren't buying it—and jeongin hated seeing his youngest hyung like that, because he knew the reason as to why you were that way. and it hurt him.
“yn.” a woman's voice repeated your name for the fifth time now, making you feel like running away and hide yourself in a hole forever. “is everything alright? you've been zoning out a lot. i asked you if this was alright?”
“i'm okay don't worry. sorry about that.” there was an awkward smile on your face, one that clearly said 'i am not okay actually but won't tell you'. before she could say anything else though, you continued, “and thank you, it's good.”
the stylist didn't seem to believe you a lot, but nodded nonetheless, giving your hair the final touches it needed before leaving you alone.
as soon as jeongin saw the staff walking away from you, he took the opportunity and sat down in one of the chairs close to your own, not saying anything. he watched you for a bit—how your shoulders seemed tense, eyes not looking at anywhere in specific—until he finally decided to speak up.
“yn.”
his voice that seemed to drop lower than how it usually was, caught your attention, making you finally, finally look at something for more than three seconds today.
since he didn't say a single word—and you had no idea what jeongin had called you for—you blinked a few times, “huh?”
for some reason, your clueless reaction was so cute for jeongin. it never failed to amaze him just how adorable you could be when you weren't trying, a chuckle leaving his lips. “come here, hyung.”
he emphasized his words by patting his legs, a teasing smirk on his face—although you swear you could see a hint of concern on his eyes.
yet you didn't refuse.
almost instantly after processing his words, you stood up, walking to where jeongin was sitting without saying a single word. he didn't mind it, instead, pulling you even closer until you ended up falling on his lap.
it wasn't an unfamiliar position for you both, but it would definitely get jeongin on the main target list for teasing from the other members.
with a sigh, one of his arms slowly snaked around your waist, “yn–hyung, we have to perform in less than twenty minutes.”
“i know.”
“then shouldn't you focus?”
well. technically, you should.
and you tried focusing, you really did. but your mind was just thinking of something else. thinking on what to do in case your hair accessory fell or your in-ear started malfunctioning again.
not the actual performance.
“... mm... i should.”
you stared at each other for a few seconds that felt like forever, his hold on you tightening just the slightest, “then why aren't you?”
he knew why. but if the problem were to be solved, you needed to be the one to recognize it.
while this whole conversation was happening, jisung was passing by in the back, spotting the funny sight of you sitting on jeongin's lap. it wasn't like when felix sat on his lap for the sake of comedy, so he only smiled, elbowed hyunjin that happened to be close, and then walked away.
“... what if i make another mistake?”
the moment your voice cracked, jeongin didn't waste a breath before pulling you closer to him, leaning his head on your shoulder with a soft sigh, “you won't make another mistake. those weren't mistakes, just things that happened on stage. those people have nothing better to do.”
it took you a lot of strength to not have a break down right there—after all, you couldn't ruin your makeup fifteen minutes before hopping on stage.
noticing your trembling shoulders, he placed his other hand on your head, ruffling it just a little so it wouldn't ruin what the hairstylist had just finished, “don't worry your pretty head too much, okay? when we go back to the dorms i'll ask chan–hyung for you to sleep on our dorm and we can watch a movie.”
you wanted to protest, not feeling like bothering the leader. but a movie with jeongin did sound good. so you nodded, and he smiled, kissing your cheek.
“let's go then, the others are probably together already.”
𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ダーリン :: this has been on my head for sooo long omfg. might do this with all members at some point, idk tho.
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synopsis: Trying to avoid a prophecy is a fruitless effort, yet the lesser will try and try again to avoid fate, only ultimately their actions will only fasten their demise. Yeosangs subconscious thinks back to his past after the connection is drawn, while Mingi's thoughts drift to the future of his own bond. Indulgence can quickly become an addiction, therefor those who've been the victim of former addicts refrain from indulging their own desires.
word count: 10.4K
warnings: person held prisoner, implied child neglect/ abuse, knives, blood, a lil fight but it's not something too serious, implied past toxic relationship(s), fear of relationships
note: I FINALLY WROTE IT GUYS HEH, as always we don't talk abt spelling errors guys pls, divider made by @saradika-graphics
Liquid dune, fate uneven like your waves, your waters fresh like the blood you will spill, your clear blue painted by a vision obscuring red. Humans walk the shore and pick up things they see as pretty, pearls shining in the sunlight, yet your siren prince will be picked up by his under the moonlight. When the prince meets his pearl in the waters blessed by the water guardian your kingdom will fall. When your prince meets your guardian, by the guidance of his pearl, your kingdom will fall. When the water encompasses the pearl and holds the prince, your kingdom will fall.
The blood of the covenant runs thicker than the water of the womb, try as you might to dilute the blood bond with your waters, the mother's womb will still rot and decay due to the death of your daughters.
Yeosang stares up at the body, he’s never seen a human before, it seems to be a female, her hair is long, but he can’t quite see her face. Her knees are on the ground, her arms stretched out on either side of her, connected with chains to the wall of her prison and head hanging low, she makes no sound. She’s not surrounded by water, no like he is, he watches as his tail swishes, the water moving in tiny waves and then stopping against the magical barrier that causes her to be surrounded by oxygen, the water the reverberates, moves back and hits Yeosang in the face causing the young prince to giggle at the feeling before silencing himself.
“Pssssst” he whispers softly, trying to draw the lady’s attention, it doesn’t work, she doesn’t move, and he doesn’t have much time before he needs to sneak into the council meeting and then go to bed. Being a nosy child is a surprisingly tiring job, he doesn’t understand most of what he learns in his escapades, but he thinks it might be useful later, something he could tell his friends, when he, you know, eventually gets them. He brings up a hand, focuses really hard and flicks some water through the barrier until it splashes the lady, she still doesn’t move, Yeosang huffs.
He thinks for a while, before he sticks his head through the barrier, taking a big breath, “psst, excuse me, ma’am” he tries again, and this time the lady looks up at him, her eyes are covered, a bandage wrapped around her head, “little prince” her voice is raspy, and she has this weird smile on her face, “you know who I am?” he asks cautiously, “yes, and I also know it’s almost bedtime for you.” Yeosang lets out a little gasp, “how do you know that?” he whisper shouts at her, surprised, as if this conversation is the biggest secret his tiny little hands hold. “I know a lot of things little prince, for example I know you’ll one day meet another called ‘little prince'“ she hums, and that catches Yeosangs attention, he pushes his entire body through the barrier, falling onto the ground with a soft sound before he curls his tail in on himself as he leans against the water barrier that acts as a wall. “I'll have a friend?” he asks with surprise, “You'll have many friends, but this particular little prince will be something more” her smile grows softer as Yeosangs grows wider, “a best friend?” His voice is excited and he almost yells.
“Yes little prince, something of the sort”, Yeosang moves a bit closer at her chuckle, “How do you know? Do humans usually know these things? I've never really seen a human before, you don’t look much different from me, although you don’t have a tail, or gills, or claws, or fangs: but the again I can shed my tail for your legs- well I can’t, not yet, but I know my species can- I still need to learn how to do it though-” Yeosangs cut off by the woman's chuckle, “You’re much more talkative than what I remember, little prince”
Yeosang tilts his head confusedly, “have we met before?” he asks softly, it wouldn’t be good of him to forget somebody, as a future ruler he must remember all who he come across, his father told him so, “No sweetheart, we haven't, but I've seen you before, long before today”
“You’ve seen me? But you don't have eyes?” his words are blunt, but the poor boy is genuinely curious, he’s learned about humans, and usually they have eyes, yet this woman has a blindfold covering hers, one Yeosang presumes could only mean she doesn’t have them, or at least that's what he heard the guards talk about, they call these humans ‘blind’ if he recalls correctly.
“I don’t need eyes to see.” she says softly, and Yeosang doesn’t quite understand, from what he’s learned that’s exactly what you need to see, “I’m a seer little prince, I see things without needing eyes like you do.” Yeosang gasps like he was just told the biggest secret of all time, “A seer? Like- like the prophets?” he asks, eyes filled with awe, “ No sweetie, a prophet has no control of what they can see, what they can share, I do. I see all, I can choose with whom I share my visions.” Yeosang tilts his head, thinking for a moment, “and you shared them with me? Earlier- you said id have a friend” She nods in response to his words, “why are you in here there? What did you do?” Yeosang asks, she can’t be a bad person right?
No, seers are humans who the moon deems pure, ones blessed with visions of the future in order for them to better help her children, her creatures. Yeosang’s a child of the moon, all freshwater sirens are, why would his father keep a seer locked up? His father may not always have been the smartest, but he’s not stupid enough to lock up someone who is practically a saint to creatures like him. The seer’s face holds a malicious smile, one Yeosang doesn’t quite pick up on, he is seven after all. “Well, I’m not really sure, little prince, they wouldn’t tell me… Would you mind asking for me?” Her voice is soft, concerned, in a way that makes Yeosang feel sympathy for her, he bites his bottom lip. “I’m not completely sure… Father wouldn’t be happy if he knew I was down here…” The seer tilts her head, “Please little prince?” Yeosang is weak, he sees someone in need and he wants to help, he wants to answer her question, he knows what it feels like to not know something, he doesn’t like that feeling, so after a moment of consideration, he nods. Slipping back past the barrier and into the water, his scales lighting up slightly at the contact with water.
He gives her a small wave before swimming away, silently making his way through the castle halls to the meeting room where he knows his parents and grandma are located at this time of night. “You heard the prophet! That boy will be our end once he meets his pearl!” Yeosangs fathers voice booms through the room, sending waves through the water that hits Yeosangs face harshly as he stares at his parents and his inner council through the open sliver of the wide doors that open to the meeting room.
“We could keep the two from meeting. When the guardian comes we will simply turn him away!” Yeosangs mother tries to plead, she’s seated at the table, not hovering like his father who’s gripping the chair in front of him in anger, his mother seems more desperate than angry, as if she’s holding back a sea of emotions. “Oh? And tell me dear wife, where would we find the power to turn away our own deity?” his father asks, voice dripping with sarcasm as he turns his face to the General in the room. “Tell me, General, is there an army on earth that could hold back the water guardian if not for his sisters?” The General shakes his head, hand gripping his spear, probably in anger at the King's tone, but Yeosang knows not many are aware of the military’s annoyance with his father, so he ignores it. “ No Your Majesty, the most powerful army currently resides with the ancients under the rule of the Fire Guardian, who would not aid nor take kindly to us in fending off her brother” he replies curtly.
“See? A war is coming dear, we both know it, we cannot let that child meet our Guardian” The King’s voice softens as he looks at his wife, almost sympathetically, his next words may not affect him, but they would affect his wife greatly, “To ensure that never happens we need to handle it on both ends” his last words seem dark and a pained look crosses his mothers face, fear morphing into understanding, as if while agreeing with her husband the true meaning of his words physically hurt her, while that same meaning is lost on little Yeosang still listening intently outside the room. His body is still and rigid, trying to stay as silent as possible, the less movement the less chance the motion of the water could send vibrations to the ones inside and give away his position.
And yet the words ring in his ears. War? Their own Guardian? Why were they trying to keep someone from meeting the Water Guardian, their own deity known to be the kindest of the four elemental protectors? Why would his father deny any of his subjects that blessing?
“I understand what must be done on our end, and will ensure it happens as such, but what of yours?” Yeosangs grandmother speaks as she places a hand on her daughter's shoulder, silencing the queen before she could protest. She grips her daughter's shoulder tightly, as if to warn the queen of any possible wrongdoing. Her tails flicks angrily behind her, in the way that always scares Yeosang, her face poised and stoic, yet her body language portrays an emotion much more violent.
There's a moment of silence, his father taking a deep breath, his gills opening wide as if he himself can’t believe what he’s about to say, “We will turn to the sun, ally our forces with the saltwater clans, have the wind and fire protect us. Both Water and Nature were bound to the moon and hold enough respect for their counterparts to not infiltrate the sun’s domain without reason, we will be able to separate them then” He nods his head firmly, and Yeosang sucks in a breath.
“But Your Majesty, abandoning the Moon-” The General starts to protest but the king cuts him off, “We cannot abandon her son and have faith in the fact that she would continue to treat us with favor. The sun would welcome us warmly just as she’s done to the saltwater clans for eons.” The king speaks with finality, the General does not look pleased, but simply bows his head. The people have been wandering to the surface more lately, wanting to bathe in the light of the sun, those not as serious of their faith in the moon would be fine with this prospect, it's the others the General worries for. The massacre he knows the king will order against the ones who refuse this change, who want to keep their natural order. All this, abandoning all they know on the word of a prophet, one the King believes is telling the truth, and maybe she is, but the General has learnt to read people in his long life, and somethings missing, he knows it, but for the sake of his kingdom he’ll ignore it.
“But the moon is pretty, and the water surrounds us, why would we abandon them?” Yeosang voices great concern, as much as his little voice could muster as he pushes himself into the room, one filled with all of these intimidating people. His grandmother's tail lashes again, and he can feel the vibrations of the water sloshing around him angrily. “Yeosang what are you doing here, you should be in be-” his mother starts to speak, panic on her face as she pushes herself away from the table and towards him, she’s stopped by the hand of her own mother still on her shoulder. “Yeosang, do you want grandmother to take you to bed?” his grandmother asks, a sickly sweet smile on her face that makes Yeosangs stomach churn in that weird way it always does after a nightmare.
He looks towards his mother, he wants to say no, demand answers, but her face is fear filled, as if pleading for him to just follow along, so he nods and his grandmother leaves her daughter as she stalks towards him. She leads him down the hall, swinging the door to the meeting room closed with her tail, the last thing he sees as the door closes, fully shut this time, is his mother letting a tear fall from her cheek. It’s distinct, all siren tears are, they aren't made of water, no they would be lost in their surroundings then, it's a distinct pearlescent substance, one that shines against the skin of the crier, one that hardens in water, drop to the ground in tiny crumbs- he looks away.
His grandmother leads him down a hall, but he’s not familiar with this route, she takes him to the part of the castle he’s not been allowed to visit before, and when he tries to question it she silences him, he listens because she instills fear in the boy. He’s led down to the basement, past the seer and then even further, he sees her mouthing something to him, something that seems like an apology, he doesn’t understand why. He should be apologizing, he didn’t have time to get the answer to her question yet. IT gets dark around him as he’s led further down, he didn’t know the castle could get this deep or this cold, he can barely see, but his grandmother seems to know exactly where she’s going- Yeosang hates not knowing.
The room is silent, safe for the sounds of metal scraping against wood as Mingi sits in the corner, focusing on his mindless carving, shavings laying before him as his knife whittles away at the wood, he hasn’t spoken, not since they’d gotten back last night. He’d gone to the corner of the room, placed himself down and started with his usual hobby, eyes locked onto the object in his hands. The others haven’t really had the time nor luxury to worry about him, blaming his actions on the revelation he’d gone through last night, and yet Yunho feels different, he knows something is wrong. Whatever Mingi is going through, it's not just him processing the information that they were given last night, the fact that you, the person he’s, for lack of other words, in love with, isn’t who he thought you were.
It hit Yunho hard, knowing you'd been a part of their world far longer than ever they were, knowing you were far deeper connected to their world than they were. A Banshee, a connection between life and death, their world and the underworld, an omen. He shivers at the thought, and while he himself is processing this, processing that the feelings he now harbors for you aren't truly for you, that he doesn’t know you, he knows Mingi is processing something different. An emotion deeper and more complex that Yunho can’t understand quite yet.
Yeosangs still on the bed, dead asleep, his skin looks better, fair complexion no longer as pale as a white wall, Wooyoung lays beside him, his back against the headboard as he uses his body heat to keep his companion warm. Wooyoung cares for Yeosang, they knew each other well before they joined Halazia, they have a connection similar to what Yunho’s has with Mingi, a friendship words couldn’t define.
Wooyoung’s probably drank enough coffee to power an entire city by now, trying to stay awake enough to focus his power into keeping his body as Yeosang’s heater, it's always been hard for him to control his powers, he was never taught, and the only other elemental they’re close with is San, who doesn’t know much about his own power either. Speaking of, San stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at Yeosang, Jongho sits on a chair opposite Wooyoung, trying to create lighthearted conversation to keep him awake, and Seonghwa.. Seonghwa seems the most calm of them all, he sits with his legs crossed, reading a book he found after discovering the town's library early this morning, he seems the picture of elegance.
“He should be awake by now” San grits through his teeth, shifting his weight on his legs impatiently, “What if that guy did something? What if he wont wake up?” he voices, and Yunho’s quicks to jump in from where he’s leaned against the wall, “ [M/N] wouldn’t do something like that, It’s not even been 24 hours San, I'm sure Yeosang needs rest” Yunho tries to comfort his packmate, but despite his trust in you even he’s not sure, he’s never felt this unsure in his ability to protect those around him before, it scares him. “Yeah I don’t.. I don’t think he did anything to Yeosang- other than heal him I mean he seems nice” Wooyoungs says, although his words are slow, the tiredness in his voice clear. “Why are you so quick to defend him?” San questions his friends, he understands Yunho’s need to shield you, well he doesn’t really but he allows it because he knows of Yunho’s feelings towards you.
“He seems… nice, and he’s friends with another fire elemental, she seemed practiced. I'm curious about how they seem so skilled, how he knows so much” Wooyoung shrugs, his curiosity has always gotten the better of him, and he’s never really seen another of his kind before, he knows they exist but he and the rest of his pack have been so busy, what with leading a rebellion against Hong Joong's father, winning said rebellion and then immediately needing to leave in search of a sword only spoken of in legends in order to secure their safety on the throne. Meeting Lisa last night was weird for him, he thinks maybe, when all of this passes he could maybe ask Mingi to ask you to ask Lisa to help him with his powers, but that's something he can do later, sparing a glance at the room anybody could tell now was not the time.
“Banshee’s are rare, they’re filled with wisdom we could not fathom, it would do well for us to gain his favor” Seonghwa speaks, eyes not being lifted from the book on his lap as he flips a page, it makes a weird feeling bubble in Yunho’s chest, the notion of his pack mates wanting to get close to you purely for your power. “I agree with you Hyung, but there's something uncanny about him, something- something that's just not right” Jongho speaks, and San lets out a relieved sigh hearing at least someone is on his side. “Are you calling him wrong?” Yunho asks threateningly, bristling at the offense in your stead,his gaze darker than before. His eyes flit to Mingi for a moment, as if making sure he won’t do something rash in reaction to Jongho’s words, but his friend is still in the state of disassociation where his only focus is on the shapeless wood in his hands.
Jongho opens his mouth again to speak, but San is quick to jump into the conversation, adrenaline and worry for his friend running high, anger coursing through his veins needing and outlet, “That's not what he’s saying, but your pretty little lover never told you he was apart of our world, you don’t think that's suspicious?” Yunho pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on, taking a step closer to San, “He’s not my lover-” I wish he was “and that's not fair, we didn't tell him either-” Yunho tries to justify whatever reasoning you might've had with his owns actions, but San interrupts again.
“Not fair? Mingi hasn’t said a word since we got home last night! Fucking look at him!” San shouts, pointing at Mingi who’s still whittling away , the lack of identifiable form showing that he has no mind for his creation, that he’s being led by the muscle memory of taking his pocket knife to wood. There's a loud sound that rings through the room, Seonghwa closes his book, it demands the attention of everyone in the room, well except the unconscious siren and the isolated wolf. He sighs, as if disappointed, before he speaks,”While I agree [M/N] does have some peculiar aspects- like only possessing one banshee’s eye- he still helped Yeosang. We should be thankful for that.”
San interrupts again, voice aggressive “Helped? Bullshit! Yeosangs still out of it and whenever Wooyoung's warmth leaves his side he's shaking!” San points to the two in the bed and for some reason Wooyoung feels a guilt pool in his stomach, he knows it's not what his friend is referring to or even hinting at, but he feels it may be his fault. Maybe if he had been better at controlling himself.. if he had been as steady in his power as he felt his senior, the woman by your side last night had been, things would've been better by now.
“I have a fucking hole in my shoulder! I was stabbed all because I wanted to make sure that bitch didn't - “ San's anger grows, but the silence that seems to fill the room is stronger, Jongho and Wooyoung watch with bated breaths, Seonghwa raises a brow but his focus is still in the book on his lap, Yunho's chest rumbles, his eyes flashing that all too familiar deep golden color. A testament of his heritage, only the Walkam wolves eyes change to that of their beastly form when they feel threatened, and only the Walkam have the royal gold irises that resemble the ichor of the ancient gods in their eyes.
San doesn't notice, too lost in his spiral too, he feels like his pack is tearing apart at the seams, after everything he cannot lose them, cannot lose another family, and his rage can currently only be directed at you. You're the center of it all, the reason Yunho and Mingi had fought all those months ago, the reason Yeosang is not waking up.
And unknowingly to him, your referral in his sentence is the reason for Mingi's consciousness to snap, his wooden carving dropped on the floor, forgotten, it doesn't even make a sound, or it does, but its sound is overshadowed by one much larger, a crash and a growl so deep those in the room have only ever heard anything even remotely similar when Mingi was in his shifted state on the battlefield. His raspy voice always did transfer to his animalistic side.
San’s words stop, the wind is knocked out of him as he's pushed into the wall, Mingi holds him up by the neck, his large hand wrapping around the pulse of a person he trusts with his life. But this isn't Mingi that's holding him, San looks in his eyes, there's a coldness against his cheek, Mingi's carving blade he realizes, held up against him. The sun shines through the window, just enough to catch against the knife and reflect onto Mingi’s eyes. They're the same color Yunho's had flashed, only they're darker, deeper, a testament to his heritage and his rightful place in the hierarchy of the wilderness.
It all happened so fast, faster than anyone in the room, than even Yunho knew Mingi was capable of moving, San desperately grips at his pack mates hand against his neck, but the taller does not relent, he squeezes harder, a part of him, a deep primal part that he knows he inherited from his mother is enjoying the satisfaction of having San at his mercy. He ignores it, digs his knife into San cheek deeper, just enough to draw the first trickle of blood.
Jongho stares, not because he can't move, but because he doesn't want to, he watches as the man who brought him into this family, who helped raise him holds his fellow companion with a vengeful show of aggression, he doesn't want to move because that would make it real. Despite knowing what Mingi is capable of he doesn't want to acknowledge it, none of them truly do.
Yunho can't move his body, he's always been the more confident of the two, but the look Mingi gets in his eye when he's like this, it's a fear that paralyzes Yunho, the scar that runs along his forearm burns underneath his shirt, as if he was back to the night all those months ago, the phantom burn from the now healed wound making it feel as if it had just been reopened. It scares Yunho, not because he hasn't truly seen Mingi this angry since his father's death, no it scares him because if Mingi hadn't been the one to shut up San, he would've, and he hates himself for it. It truly does terrify him, the limits his mind is willing to go just to defend your honor.
“If you ever dare utter such foul words about my mated again I will ensure you lose your tongue” Mingi huffs, his words short as if he's restraining himself, “a mercy, only because you are my trusted. Live you will, but speak you will never again. ” When Mingi finishes his sentence it clicks for those in the room, the deep rumble in his chest when he had hugged you the night before, why he had been quiet ever since, he had mated himself to you.
“That's enough Mingi” Seonghwa finally speaks, his voice rings clear, a reminder of why he was chosen as Hongjoongs second in command. Mingi looks over his shoulder defiantly at Seonghwa, deep golden eyes being met with bright cerulean ones, very rare does a dragon use its eyes for dominance, but Seonghwa knows in this very moment it's necessary. Mingi let's San drop to the ground after a moment, Seonghwa had used his eyes, his hierarchal stature against Mingi, and Mingi respects Seonghwa enough to comply, to not fight against the authority he'd agreed to give the man over himself many years ago.
Besides, Seonghwa’s eyes when set alight remind him almost of one of yours last night, your eye is much darker of course, and instead of a slit pupil and colored iris, your entire eye is faded in blue. It still astounds Mingi, that you have no pupil in neither of your eyes and yet you can still see, he guesses he should've seen that as a warning of what he learnt last night long ago.
San is alone on the ground gasping for air, no one dares help him right now, Mingi moves back to his previous perch, sitting with his knees drawn up and his elbows rested on them, he looks at Yunho, his packmate, his brother, the man he knows has imprinted on you just as strong as he has months before, he looks at the heartbreak on his face, but his gaze doesn't falter, it pierces through him, as if daring him to ask the question Mingi knows is eating him alive. ‘You mated yourself to him?’
But the question doesn't come, Mingi doesn't even know what he'd answer, because it's not like he did it on purpose, but the buzzing beneath his skin, the ache to see you again is frustrating, and he needs an excuse to let that frustration out. He hears Seonghwa sigh, the elder massaging his temples, “Mingi, you trust him, yes? The Banshee? “ Seonghwa does not dare invoke your name in fear of ticking off Mingi. “With my life “ Mingi responds without thinking, his lack of hesitation angers San more, but the elemental is still reeling from the attack, he does not say it. “Very well then, Mingi trusts him, and we must trust that our Captain, will gather all the information needed to ease your minds” Seonghwa’s words are aimed at San, a part of him wants to whine, feels like it's unfair the he's the only one being scolded, but he doesn't.
Seonghwas gaze flicks around the room one last time, a werewolf, a Walkam who's now bonded to you, another who's already imprinted and a Siren who's now claimed you as his pearl. It quite intrigues him, you've bewitched three of his mates now, he burns to know what fate has in store for you all.
Hongjoong is not a nervous creature by nature, never has been. He can't afford to be, he couldn't be nervous during the ancients war, that would worry the kingdom. Hongjoong could not be nervous when building his own army, leading the revolution against his father and placing his trusted elder brother on the throne as he left on his quest for the sword that would solidify his reign.
Hongjoong is a Basilisk for the god's sake, he's a ruler of the water and the reptiles amongst him, he's the ruler of a Kingdom, the Captain of his trusted crew. Hongjoong has never been nervous, not even as a kid when his father would put him in the light of the council, he didn't respect them, they didn't earn it, so he had no fear or anxiety to spare for the old geezer.
Yet walking into this tavern, the myriad of eyes all staring him down, he suddenly feels much smaller than he should. He moves mindlessly, not sure where he should sit at first, that's not like him either, to walk into a situation without a plan, but there are too many variables for him to have even begun to fathom one.
A man walks up to him, tall and lanky, eyes slitted like a snake, and Hongjoong feels a tether to him, a reptile shifter, he must be a part of your pack. The man looks him up and down, as if judging Hongjoong, “You're the king? here to see boss I take it?” he says over his shoulder as he starts walking, Hongjoong follows.
“I'm here to see the Banshee” Hongjoong clarifies, he currently has no business with whoever the pack's leader might be, “Like I said, Boss” the male shrugs. “I'm Yeonjun. “ he states after a moment, “Boss is in the back, I'll call him out in a moment” he says as he stops at a table, gestures for Hongjoong to sit and promptly turns away. Hongjoong doesn't like him, and under any other circumstances he would be offended but he knows the people, the creatures of this island are different from him. He's been taught never to underestimate those living on Obsidian , and he's not one to go against the knowledge he fought so hard to aquire.
The man, Yeonjun, disappears behind the back door, and before Hongjoong can move his gaze to study those around him, you walk out the door. Your hair is tied now, giving him a better view of your face in the light than he had the night before. You're eyes land on him, and he straightens up in his seat, but you don't walk towards him, instead you walk towards the bar as you remove the flour filled apron around your waist.
You stop by a couple, both with dark hair, Hongjoong watches the interaction, notices how the female smiles at you, brightly as she reaches up to wipe flower from your nose, unrolls the sleeves you've seemingly rolled up while presumably baking in the back. Hongjoong wonders if the wolves know of this, if they know of these people in your lives. You're talking to them, too far for him to hear until their gazes land on him. The female sends him a warm smile, similar to the one she'd given you, but not nearly as intense, he can see the fangs peek from below her lips. A vampire then, another of your pack he assumes.
The male.. that seems to be a different story entirely, his body language seems to be aimed at you, and not the woman next to him, whereas yours seems closed off to him. His gaze on Hongjoong is intense, it doesn't scare Hongjoong, rather makes him raise a brow at the male who seems to hold himself higher than the rest in the tavern. You pat the woman's arm before walking to Hongjoong. They're gazes don't waver, and Hongjoong isn't quite sure how to react, they aren't hostile, but the male doesn't seem very welcoming, and despite the female’s smile, Hongjoong knows a spy's eyes when he sees them.
“You've come” you state as you sit down, “Who are they?“ he asks, motioning to the two at the bar, “why is that of your concern?” you shoot back. His eyes bore into your own, but he can't bring himself to hold your gaze, there's something uncany about your eyes, the lack of pupils, he doesn't know what to make of it. “They're staring at me like I've just threatened their family” he huffs and you let out your own puff of laughter. “The woman is Mira, the Man is Tea-moo he's our leader, she is his wife” as if hearing your words, because they probably are, the woman waves her hand excitedly, the man only continues burning a hole into Hongjoongs being.
“Leader? I thought that was you” Hongjoong straightens as he places his hand on the table intrigued and starting his questioning now that his first had been answered. “And what gave you that impression?” You in turn lean back, much more relaxed than he is. “Yeonjun called you Boss” he states, and your brows furrow, “Yeonjun?” you muse and Hongjoong tenses. “Yes, the snake boy he was just-” he starts to explain himself but you lift your hand to stop him, we'll not really, your palm is still on the table, only a subtle lift of a few of your fingers has him clamping his mouth shut, he doesn't know what to make of that.
“I know who he is, I'm just surprised he'd share his name with you so quickly, he must like you. That's a good thing, he doesn't usually respect his elders” You roll your eyes fondly and before Hongjoong could ask further, Yeonjun had been by your tableside, as if the whisper of his name summoned him. “Because most of them have yet to earn it” he explained, and a part of him reminds Hongjoong of himself when he was that age, even if the boy is only a few years his junior, his values of respect much reflect Hongjoongs own. Had it not been for the situation it would've brought a smile to his lips. “But he's okay, better than Tea-” Yeonjun starts, nodding his head to Hongjoong but you cut him off. “Water, a water is fine for me, Yeonjun” you state, trying to remind him of the fact that he's on the job, and that he shouldn't be speaking ill of his own leader in front of another.
He simply rolls his eyes before nodding, eyes falling to Hongjoong, “and you?” Hongjoongs gaze drifts back to the two at the bar for a moment, the woman has busied herself with something, but the man is still staring at him. “A water for me as well” he nods to Yeonjun, who mock salutes him and walks off without a word. “You came here for questions, King. I do have a job to return to, ask them” your fingers drum against the wooden table, and it's only now that Hongjoong picks up on the fact that you seem uncomfortable. Weird, given you seemed just fine in talking to him last night, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him, since he is yet to know you.
“Don't call me that, My father was King, my brother now sits the throne, I do not wear a crown, therefore shall not carry the title” he spit the sentence as if it was rehearsed and pained on his tongue, you nodded and didn't ask further, knowing all too well the need to remove pesky royal titles from your name. “Why is your leader staring at me?” Hongjoong asked. “He is not staring at you” you deny what he sees, or what he thinks he sees. Hongjoongs always been good at reading the room, he had to be, his eyes flick from Tea-moo, to your drumming fingers, and back to the vampires eyes, it clicks in his mind, and he simply nods, despite the curiosity, your pack problems are not his to interfere with.
“Alright then, why has Yeosang not woken up?” you hum at the inquiry, “He needs time to rest, so long as you keep him warm he should be awake by tomorrow, but that's not what you really want to know, is it? ” You look at him, and for a moment the surprise in his eyes makes him look younger, but you don't let it fool you, you want them off your island, answering his questions is the fastest way to get that.
“You only have one Banshee’s eye” he noted, “an astute observation” you nod as Yeonjun appears, putting down glasses of water before disappearing again, “Why do you only have one Banshee’s eye?“ Hongjoong clarified his thoughts. You just shrug, taking a sip of your water, you still feel the eyes on your back, the man listening in on the conversation, knowing it's a question that's been burning him for many years. “That's not something I can answer” You tell Hongjoong, he moves to his next question, not at all dettered.
“Why haven't you ever told Mingi and Yunho about this? You must've known right? Of their connection to the supernatural, I've read before that Banshee’s can sense those things” He leans in, as if the closer he gets the faster you'll spew the answer. “I did know of their nature, but just as they did not tell me, I have my own reasons for keeping my identity hidden. You must know banshee’s aren’t particularly well liked creatures” You take a sip of the water after you’ve spoken.
“You may not be well liked, but your kind is highly respected” Hongjoong counters, a sense of frustration in his tone. “We’re feared, not respected, and even then the fear usually turns to distrust” You shrug, “But your pack knows, they must. They do not distrust or seem to fear you” Hongjoong raises a brow, “I don’t believe you know me or them well enough to make that assumption” you give him a small smile, amused by the confidence he has in his observations. “That may be true, but I do know some parts, maybe not of them, but of you. Mingi and Yunho speak of you a lot you know, especially Mingi” His eyes search yours, wanting even an inkling of interest when he mentions the wolf you've grown so attached to, you don't give it to him. But your hand does move up to touch the orange stone hung around your neck.
“So you believe you know me based on what they’ve told you?” Hongjoong shakes his head at that question, “I know I don’t know you, clearly neither did they-” okay that was just unnecessary, “ but they did say you were kind, that you spoke kindly about your ‘friend group’ which im now assuming is your pack. I don’t think you'd speak kindly of people who fear or distrust you.” You nod your head, he’s right in that assumption at least.
“The last known Banshee was during the war.. Was that you?” his question is followed by a bated breath, “What? I look that old to you?” You retort, the calmness in your voice not giving away the information he wants. “The war was what? five years ago? I'm sure my question is reasonable” he hums but drops the topic, more pressing matters in his mind.
“They really like you, you know” Hongjoong murmurs after a moment of silence as he toys with the glass of water in his hand idly, wishing at this moment that it was something stronger. “hm?” You know what he means, but you don't wish to admit it. “Yunho and Mingi, they really like you” he clarifies and you only nod, taking a sip of your water to avoid answering.
“I'm not their parent or anything, I may be their leader but I don't have a right to dictate who they can and can't connect with, so to speak… but I can ask you not to break their heart not to break Mingi's heart. I think we both know he won't be able to handle that, especially not now” Hongjoongs voice is ernest, he knows what's happened last night, saw the shift in Mingi, the flicker of a deep emotion he couldn't quite place in your eyes, having Mingi now not only imprinted on you, but mated certainly complicates things, but that's a problem for future Hongjoong.
Right now his only concern is making sure Yeosang is safe, and Mingi doesn't go on a rampage due to his newly created bond, just great, totally easy if you ask him.
“No heart was offered to me to break, let's keep it that way” you tell him, denying what you know happened, you don't want to know, don't want Tea-moo to know, the vampire certainly listening in on the conversation.
“Why? because you'll purposely break it” Hongjoong raises his brow, you didn't seem to strike him as the type, but your insistence on denying a possible connection to Mingi is making him worry for him.
You take a breath, downing the last of your water and just like Hongjoong wishing it had been something stronger, you owe him this honesty at least, you'd want someone to be honest with you if you were in his place. Worrying about your pack mates, your kids. “Because I won't be able to refuse it”
Your voice is steadfast, gaze unwavering as your eyes bore into Hongjoongs own, it feels as if you're looking directly at him and yet through him at the same time. As if his words hold enough significance to capture, to hold your attention, but his presence does not.
He wants to question why that would be such a bad thing, falling in love with someone from another pack isn't unheard of, it may not be the norm, but it's not frowned upon. Could it be that you're scared? He thinks that you fear being involved with a pack who is technically seen as a political party might put your identity at risk. He's heard you had a family, two kids if he remembers Mingi's ramblings correctly, people you'd wished to protect, and he wants to assure you he'd help. That for Mingi and Yunho he'd ensure your safety, for the sake of peace between life and death he'd ensure your safety, but the strength in your gaze, it makes him feel powerless, like the offer stuck in his throat would be useless.
Sitting in front of you he feels like a child, a child who's a distant memory, one who made promises of protection with bright smiles, one who didn't have the strength to protect, let alone promise such things. He hates that, that simply sitting before someone he deemed insignificant a few days ago could make him feel so small.
Was this why Mingi had been attached to you? had you made him feel small? made him reminisce about a part of his childhood innocence everybody knows he still clung to like a lifeline.
And Yunho? had he been drawn to the feeling of inferiority you bring? had he been happy that for once he was not made to be the perfect son or first hand? that he could feel as pathetic as he wanted with ample reason?
The question won't stop, they swirl and thrash in his head worse than the waves of the sea when he has nightmares while on his ship, his power losing control of itself, its connection to the elements. He can't move, can't speak, feels trapped and it's shouldn't be, he doesn't know you, you aren't intimidating, you have done nothing to cause caution and yet as his eyes slowly flicker around the bar, multiple creatures staring back at him, his hand can't help but itch to reach for the sword of his blade.
It's silent, the entertainment has stopped singing, chatter between locals has died down, as if the word came to a stop, waiting for Hongjoong to ask why you felt like you couldn't love his pack brothers as he knows they love you, waiting for the answer. But it never comes.
Instead the tavern door opens and the bell atop it jingles, a woman, a girl, barely of age walks in, hair blond and tied Into a bun, clothes soft, muted colors of brown and beige, what seems to be paint splattered all over her. When she enters it's as if the atmosphere resumes, there won't be any more answers today, Hongjoong can sense it, in the way the two vampires who had previously been staring at him as if he'd been a threat to their mortality had turned away, now caring less about him than they would a broken bar glass. The waiter, the boy, Yeonjun, nowhere in sight, clearly not being curious about the ordeal anymore.
The blond girl's eyes find you and walk up, the closer she gets the better Hongjoong can study her features. She's rather pale, and yet red tints her cheeks and nose as if she's been in the sun a bit too long. She reaches the table, gives him a nod, a small barely there smile, but one that allows her fangs to gleam quickly before hiding behind her lip again.
“Pops, Niki needs help” her voice isn't as soft as Hongjoong was expecting, it's short, direct, to the point as if she doesn't have any time to waste. The name ‘Pops’ rings in his ears, one of your children then… she's older than he'd thought she be, well most definitely if the fangs hidden in her mouth are ny indication, if makes a part of him churn at the implication that you'd be older than her, than him. Wiser too.
He sees you stiffen, not in the way you had when he was talking about love, no, your hand doesn't grip the glass and there's no melancholy in your eyes, instead you sit up straight, looking at the girl with an emotion that's not quite worried, but almost there.
“He was training and I think he got a little carried away and it's–the goo’s creeping up again and he doesn't want to let me near him” She talks animatedly, clearly worried, but not enough to raise her voice, ‘not a life or death situation then’, Hongjoong muses. You nod to Hongjoong as you stand, “If you'll excuse me Captain, my son needs me” and all Hongjoong can do is nod in response, for who was he to stop a man from caring for someone clearly treasured.
You whisper something in the girls ear, a small smile crinkling on your face as you look down at her and for a moment Hongjoong can see the age weighing on your soul, the maturity forced to bear, but it's gone in an instant, replaced with affection he's only ever seen before in the eyes of Seonghwa when his second in command would talk of his little sister.
He watches as she nods in response to your whispers, you place a kiss to the top of her head, hand cradling the back of it in a fashion Hongjoong could only ever describe as fatherly before you're off. No proper goodbye, no send off, no actual answers to what he came for. The girl, much to Hongjoongs dismay, slides into the chair you had just sat on. “Pops told me to answer any more questions you might have and ensure you get home safe” she give shim a kind smile, one that would've soothed him had he still been a child. “I'm Somi” she outstretched her hand to him, and he takes it, “Hongjoong” he responds.
“oh! you're Yunho's captain? He's talked a lot about you! “ she explains, her energy reminding Hongjoong exactly of Yunho when he gets too happy. “he's mentioned you as well” he nods with a soft smile, he may not have gotten all the answers today but he's gotten some, and small steps are better than no steps at all.
You sigh as you close the door, back resting against it as the cold night air hits you. Standing outside your house, sensing Mingi already waiting for you by the river, just out of sight, you finally feel just a little bit lighter, a little bit of relief you'll allow yourself after the day you've had.
You stay there for a moment, head resting against the wood of the door, thinking of your son currently resting inside the home. He's been training again, training without proper guidance, and he's reached his limits. The darkness of his shadow started to creep up from claws that he couldn't retract anymore. When you'd found him, it had almost reached his neck before you could help stabilize him.
It's awful, being a shadow dragon with this much power but no elder to teach him. You'd taken him in out of pity at first, but as time went on, you'd loved him like your own. Just as you had with Somi years before.
You linger for a while, telling yourself it's simply because you want to make sure that Niki truly is asleep, that you'd be here if he were to call for you, despite the fact that he'd gone down hours ago. You tell yourself that your feet stay planted due to the love you have for your son, not the fear of what might happen next, when you reach Mingi. Mingi who's alone, Mingi who you know chose you as his mate last night, he's not aware that you know. You don't want him to be.
You can't bring yourself to go to him, but he can certainly bring himself to you, the mate bond he'd solidified made him acutely aware of your surroundings, and he'd waited long enough. Left the river you usually meet at, and walked right up to your door, to you.
He stares you in the eyes, his swirling with emotion, mouth in a thin line, it's as if you can see the thoughts bouncing around in his head, he's not sure on what to say. His fingers are lined with new bandages, probably from accidentally cutting himself and multiple removed splinters from his woodworking. Yet he still wishes to trace them over the contours of your face, feel if your skin is truly as soft as he’s dreamed of. He wants his hands to memorize you so that he would be able to recognize you even in total darkness, even if his eyes were to be gouged from his eyesockets, he wants loving you to be as natural as breathing.
After a long moment of silence, of him not knowing what to say and you not wanting to say anything, not wanting to break the silence that's your only form of relief from the day, he speaks. “Somi said Niki was sick?” he tilts his head in that adorable way that makes you liken him to a puppy more so than a Walkan wolf in your head.
“You talked to Somi?” you ask as you step forward, away from the door and feeling the cold hardwood leave your body you feel a sense of dread at the missing contact that was grounding you, he makes a hum of acknowledgement. “She walked home with Hongjoong, said she wanted to say hi to Yunho” he mumbles, he's always been a bit peeved that she liked Yunho more than him, but he was prideful at the fact that Niki liked him more than Yunho, so it balances out.
You nod, knowing your daughter, knowing she'd walked with Hongjoong to find out where they lived, rather than greeting the wolf, she'd always been like her father in that way, her other father at least. Paranoid, smart.
“Want to sit somewhere else tonight? not by the river?“ you question, and in response, he only leans forward to slip his hand in yours, warm and calloused, as if waiting for you to lead him. You find the new contact grounding and you hate it, you want to rip your hand from his and scream as if the warmth is burning you, but you don’t because its not. You hate that its not, hate that his warmth can be just as comforting as the cold you find solace in, hate that he doesn’t burn, that he comforts you in a way you haven't felt in years, so you bury it deep down, keeping his hand in yours and acting like it's nothing less than a gesture of friendship, even though you know to him its the reason his heart beats just a little faster than it should.
You start walking, gripping his hand firmly, just to make sure he’s following you, you tell yourself, He’ll always follow you, even to his own death, a small voice speaks in your head. You ignore it. “Where are we going?” he questions, the only places you’e ever met with him were by the river, sometimes you'd move a bit more into the valley and sit against a tree, or if it was really cold, you'd allow him and Yunho into your kitchen, but he knows those paths like the back of his hand, your not leading him to either. “The roof” You respond as you reach a wall on the side of your house, he’s confused for a second, as you squeeze his hand one last time and lets go before gripping a brick in the wall he hadn’t noticed was poking out before. “Hope you can climb Pup” You tease as you pull yourself up, starting to climb up the side of your house. The nickname was supposed to be teasing, but it shoots a flash of warmth up Mingi’s gut that he can't quite name, but he definitely knows he wants to feel again. He lets out a huff before following you, albeit more slowly as he needs to fine the correct places to grip for his climb.
Once he reaches the top, he sees you already sitting, a small portion of your slanted roof seems to have a built in balcony type flooring, he assumes you must spend a lot of time here, if you'd gone to the effort to build this, or have it built, and he feels his heart squeeze at the fact that you’re sharing this with him. Not with Yunho, with him. You pat the spot next to you as your legs dangle off the sides of the flooring, he takes it, no questions asked. You two sit in silence for a moment, admiring the view of the night, the moon and the stars blinking brightly as if they’re gazing down upon you, Mingi’s eyes trail to your side profile and he thinks they must be, for even the heavens would not be able to look away from your moonkissed face.
Mingi looked at you, truly looked, his brown eyes focused on his love and not the sky above, you couldn’t stand it. The love in Mingi’s eyes looked so familiar, so warm and inviting, and if you allowed it to be, comforting. It’s familiar, a look you'd seen before, a warmth that had been present in the eyes of the man you had once loved, long before that warmth had turned into a burning, searing type of love, one you couldn’t stomach.
You think back to your earlier conversation with Hongjoong, and you stand firm in your wishes. You don’t want Mingi to offer you his heart, because you wouldn’t be able to refuse it, and after having corrupted the heart of the man you loved so much so that he’d become a villain you couldn't even stand to look at despite your current companionship, you don’t want to go through that again. You don’t want to corrupt Mingi the way you had Tea-moo.
His puppy dog eyes stare at you filled with adoration, with love, and they feel like the worst parallel to the ones that stare at you with hate now. You don’t want Mingi to love you, because in what you've experienced in your hundreds of years of living, loving you either leads to hatred or death. You don’t wish for either to befall Mingi. Despite his persona, you know he’s too fragile to handle the first, and he’s pawed his way far too deep into your heart for you to handle the latter.
“You’re staring” you tell him, and he jumps, not knowing you had been aware of his trance. “I'm admiring” his response is quick, it’s the truth, and before you could counter, he follows it up with ”I'm also trying to figure it out”, he cocks his head to the side and you turn yours to face him. “Figure what out?” you question, “How I never noticed that you were.. well one of us” he tries to find his words.
“I'm not one of you, Banshees are very different from wolf shifters Min” He shakes his head at your response, “No no I meant like, you’re supernatural, you’re one of us…. I never noticed that, how did I not notice that?” You pretend not to hear the crack in his voice, the words being followed with an almost whine-like sound that emphasizes his desperation. “You didn’t know because I didn’t want you too, it’s as simple as that Min.” You shrug, but he doesn’t let it go.
“No, no I still should've known, I mean you have the Banshee’s eyes I just- you didn’t have both so it didn't click to me that-” he tries to reason with his lack of recognition, but you cut him off, “I only have one Banshee’s eye because I am only one half Banshee, don’t blame yourself for not noticing. I've told you to stop that” You chastise, it's a habit you've learned he has, blaming himself when he can’t protect the people he loves, when he can’t notice every single thing.
“So you’re half human then? That's….. I've never heard of that one, half Banshee half human” he mulls it over as he tries to get used to it, you don’t correct him, don’t tell him that you’re not half human, he doesn’t need to know that. “But.. you were taught as a banshee right?” he asks softly, you nod in turn. “I've been told Banshees know a lot of things, that they’re like the information keepers of species” Mingi mumbles, and for some reason he looks almost, hopeful, you have a feeling you know where this is going, the pit in your stomach makes itself known again. You nod.
“So you know… about last night then” he fiddles with his fingers in his nervousness, suddenly acutely aware of the lack of work his hands have to do to keep busy. You know what he’s referring to, about his mating, but you can't acknowledge it, you won't. “With your friend? I've told you, When fresh water Sirens-” you start, but he stops you. “No, no not about Yeosang.. About when I hugged you I ma-” its your turn to interrupt him. “You hugged me Mingi, there’s not something else to it, I don’t understand what you’re hinting at” your voice is calm, unknowing in the effort to stop him from confronting you about it. “No, [Name] when I hugged you I-” he tries again, sitting up straighter as his chest constricts, tight.
“You hugged me. End of story, there wasn’t anything else to it Mingi” Your words are cold this time, demanding, you’re telling him there wasn’t anything more, you need him to pretend there wasn't. He can see it in your eyes, he’s not sure if you're pleading or demanding, but he knows you know, he can practically hear his wolf whine in his ears at the fact. You know. You know and yet you don’t want to face it, you must know what this means to him, that he could never change it, that he’d never want to. That he’s bound to you for as long as he lives, in any way you’d allow him to be. Unfortunately, it's not the way he wants to be.
You’re not denying him, and he’s thankful for that, but you’re not accepting him, and the thought makes him want to crawl into your arms and cry until his tears run dry. “Yeah, just a hug” he nods, voice shaky as he agrees with you, for the sake of saving face. You nod back, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder, as if you wish to comfort him, as if you feel guilty, Mingi chooses to believe that, because that means you still care for him, it means that maybe one day you’d allow him to say the words out loud.
His head rests on yours, and he’s thankful you pretend not to feel the tears that silently fall from his eyes onto your hair. “I heard Banshee’s are connected to demons.. Is that true?” he asks, and he hopes it is, he wants you to tell him. And you do, you hum in agreement and you tell him, of days when you were young and you'd visit the underworld, of a time that you had to stay there for a while too long, and he listens. The sound of your voice calming the restless beast inside his chest, the one that's clawing and gnawing at his ribs, the one that's destroying him from the inside out, that's hurting him because he’s not able to hold you.
can I have a fic where mn has to do like a rockstar concept for his solo or a stray kids album and he's wearing like a black leather vest with spikes and fake tats all over his torso when he's usually so refined and all that, wearing silk shirts or suits. and Minho (mn's boyfriend) is all over him. also, make mn tall and bigger than minho
Authors Note: I had SO much fun writing thiisss!! Im sorry its a lot shorter than you might have wanted it
Genre: 🍂
Type: One shot (460 words)
Extra Notes: I swear I'll make this longer soon!!
Story below the cut!!
🪐’d always been the “refined one.” Silk shirts, fitted suits, quiet confidence that didn’t need to shout to be seen. That was his look, his stage presence. People knew it, expected it.
Which was exactly why the new concept felt like whiplash.
The stylist tugged the last strap on 🪐's black leather vest, the spiked shoulders gleaming under the lights. Fake tattoos curled up 🪐's arms, ink drawn across his collarbones, and 🪐's hair fell just wild enough to match. 🪐 caught his own reflection and almost didn’t recognise himself.
Neither did Minho.
He’d come into the dressing room mid-prep, ready to tease 🪐 about practising too much again—but the second he saw 🪐, he froze. His eyes dragged from the fake ink down to the open vest, the sharp edge of leather contrasting against 🪐's frame.
“…What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low.
“Concept,” 🪐 said simply, fighting a smirk.
Minho blinked at 🪐 like he was recalibrating his entire worldview. Then, slowly, his mouth curved into something between awe and trouble. “You’re joking. They put you in leather and spikes?”
“Don’t like it?” 🪐 tilted his head, feigning innocence.
Minho crossed the room in three strides, close enough that 🪐 could see his ears flushing even as he tried to keep his tone dry. “Don’t like it? You look like every fan’s bad decision wrapped in six feet of muscle, that’s what you look like.”
🪐 laughed, deep and amused, and his hand was already on your chest—testing the edge of the vest, tracing over the fake tattoo like he wanted to see if it’d smear.
“Minho...” 🪐 started, but he cut 🪐 off with a grin that was way too soft for his words.
“Yeah, no. I can’t let you out there like this. They’ll eat you alive.” His fingers lingered on your skin, voice dropping. “And I don’t share.”
For someone who always looked so collected himself, Minho had completely unraveled in 🪐's presence, and 🪐’d never felt more like a rockstar than in that moment.
Could you please write something about Innie and Minho 🥺🥺 Don't see much stuff about that pair and it breaks my heart. The only problem is brain empty no ideas 😅
(Actually, I lied. Maybe Minho is admiring Jeongins singing? Or the other way around?)
Anyway thank you darling, you're doing great 💕😘
Authors Note: SHAKING YOU VIOLENTLY you better like this /teasing
Genre: 🍂(x a billion)
Type: One shot (750 words)
Story below the cut!!
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Practice had been long, the kind of long where the mirrors felt heavier than usual and even the sound system seemed tired. Everyone else had trickled out, leaving the room quiet except for Jeongin humming to himself as he packed his things.
Minho should’ve left too. But instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening.
It wasn’t a performance, not really. Jeongin’s voice was low, unpolished, drifting lazily through the melody of some song stuck in his head. And somehow that made it better. Softer. Real.
“You know you sound good even when you’re not trying, right?” Minho’s voice broke the silence, dry as ever.
Jeongin jumped, nearly dropping his water bottle. “Hyung, you scared me—why are you just standing there?”
Minho smirked. “Maybe I wanted a private concert.”
Jeongin rolled his eyes, cheeks pink, but didn’t argue. He adjusted the strap of his bag, muttering, “You’re weird.”
“Mm..” Minho hummed, pushing off the wall to walk past him. As he passed, he ruffled Jeongin’s hair—quick, casual, like it meant nothing. “Keep singing though. It suits you.”
Jeongin froze for a second, the tips of his ears turning red. By the time he looked up, Minho was already at the door, glancing back with a tiny smile.
It was nothing. Just Minho being Minho. But Jeongin couldn’t help the way his heart beat a little faster, the song still stuck on his lips.
Or
It was late enough that the hallways were empty, the kind of late where the building itself seemed to exhale. Jeongin had come back for his headphones, not expecting anyone to still be around.
But when he passed the studio, he stopped.
Through the cracked door, Minho was sitting at the desk, mic on, headphones loose around his neck. He was singing—soft, low, nothing showy. Just him and the melody, bare and honest in a way Jeongin had never really heard before.
Jeongin lingered in the hall, listening. There was something about Minho’s voice when he wasn’t performing for anyone else—like all the sharp edges had smoothed out, leaving only warmth.
Without meaning to, Jeongin leaned against the doorframe.
Minho noticed halfway through a line, pausing with a raised brow. “Enjoying the show?” he asked, voice teasing but not annoyed.
Jeongin flushed. “I wasn’t spying, I just—” He tripped over the words, then gave up, shoulders slumping. “You sound really good, hyung.”
For a moment, Minho just looked at him, unreadable. Then, slowly, his mouth curved into a small smile. “Coming from our maknae, I’ll take that as a big compliment.”
Jeongin laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “It is. I mean it.”
Minho didn’t answer right away—he just set his headphones down and turned toward Jeongin fully. The smile lingered, softer this time. “Then…stay a while. Might sound even better with company.”
And Jeongin did, slipping into the room quietly, heart beating a little too fast as Minho started singing again, just loud enough for him.
omg omg omg you want fic requests? dad!minho who is just obsessed with you and your kid and so fluffy 😫😭 i get baby fever from these types of fics all the time lol
-💖
Authors Note: STOP THATS SUCH A DANGEROUS PROMPT... I might have gone crazy with it....
The living room was a mess of toys—blocks scattered like landmines, a stuffed rabbit face-down on the couch, and 🪐's toddler babbling proudly over a tower that leaned like it was about to topple.
Minho was crouched right there beside them, still in sweatpants and a too-big hoodie from practice with the members, watching like 🪐's kid had just solved world hunger instead of stacking foam blocks. “Genius,” he whispered dramatically, clapping quietly so they wouldn’t get startled. “Pure genius.”
🪐 leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “You said that yesterday when they drooled on your shirt.”
“And I was right then too,” he shot back without looking at 🪐, eyes glued to 🪐's little one. “My kid’s a prodigy. Takes after me.”
The tower fell. Both 🪐's toddler and Minho gasped like it was the end of the world. A second later, 🪐's child was laughing, clapping their tiny hands—and Minho was laughing too, soft and utterly gone.
He scooped them up, pressing a kiss into their hair before turning his gaze on you. That look—the one that said 🪐 and this family he'd built were his whole universe—never got easier to withstand.
“Two geniuses in one house,” he murmured, nuzzling 🪐's toddler’s cheek before giving him a pointed smirk. “Guess I’m just lucky.”
🪐 rolled his eyes, but when 🪐's kid reached for him, Minho crossed the room and tucked the three of them into one messy, perfect hug.
---
The blocks eventually gave way to stuffed animals, which gave way to giggles and drowsy yawns. 🪐 caught Minho watching the slow fade of energy with this quiet little smile—like he was already memorizing the shift.
“Okay, champ,” he said softly, scooping 🪐's toddler into his arms, “time for pajamas.”
The protest was half-hearted, more a mumble into his shoulder than anything else, and within ten minutes they were tucked in with Minho’s dramatic storytelling voice filling the room.
---
🪐's kid was already fighting sleep, blinking slow and heavy as Minho sat at the edge of the bed with a storybook balanced on his knee.
He was reading in that too-serious voice he always used, like the fate of the world depended on how well he delivered the story of a rabbit finding its way home.
🪐 leaned against the doorframe, watching. Every so often, he’d glance at your kid, then soften mid-sentence—voice dropping into something almost a whisper.
By the time the story ended, the child was half-asleep, tiny hand curled around Minho’s finger. He closed the book gently, careful not to wake them, and pressed the lightest kiss to their forehead.
“Goodnight, my star,” he murmured, words meant for them but his eyes found 🪐's.
And suddenly it was unfair—how someone could look at both of them like they were his whole heart and still act like it was the most natural thing in the world.
---
When the book closed and the night-light hummed softly, Minho slipped out of the bedroom like he’d just handled a sacred mission. He found 🪐 in the hallway, and before 🪐 could even speak, he wrapped his arms around 🪐's waist.
“They get cuter every day,” he muttered against 🪐's hair, still a little dazed from watching them fall asleep.
🪐 laughed quietly. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”
He pulled back just enough to look at 🪐, eyes tired but warm. “No, just…every time I think my heart’s full, they do something new. Or you smile like that.” He kissed 🪐's temple, slow and lingering. “And somehow, there’s more room.”
The house was quiet, the toys abandoned for the night, but Minho held 🪐 like the day wasn’t over—like the best part was just this.
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[ ] So the reader is in txt and they've been dating since the reader was 19 and people like suspected that he and mingyu were dating, since mingyu was super obsessed with the reader jn hybe catering or picnic lol , but they didn't have an any proof except that Mingyu always bought him super cute couple things and such. so a few years later, they announce that they are gonna get married, and the media freaks out, and yes.
Author note: HEYYYY omw i took so long to write this im sorryyy :((
I SWEAR🙏 im gonna be more active gys TRUST
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Genre: 🍂/❤️🔥
type: One-Shot (850 words)
No extra notes!!
story below the cut!!
first meeting ---
It was one of those chaotic HYBE picnics—food everywhere, staff yelling for idols to not spill soda on the sound equipment, TXT fighting over the last slice of pizza.
🪐 was balancing a paper plate of food and his water when Mingyu suddenly appeared at his side, tall enough to cast a shadow over him. “Sit with me,” he said, already tugging at 🪐's wrist like it wasn’t even a question.
🪐 blinked. “Uh, my members—”
“They’ll survive,” Mingyu cut in, plopping down on the grass and patting the spot next to him. He grinned, too boyish for someone who’d just stolen 🪐 away from his entire group.
🪐 sat, trying not to notice the way a few staff glanced at the two. Mingyu noticed though. He always noticed, and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Let them look. They’ll never figure it out.”
And then he pulled something out of his pocket. A tiny keychain, shaped like a fox. He hooked it onto 🪐's water bottle without asking, proud of himself.
“Why a fox?” 🪐 asked, cheeks warming.
“Because it looks like you.” He said it so casually, like buying little couple trinkets for 🪐 was the most normal thing in the world.
Somewhere across the lawn, Yeonjun was making exaggerated kissy faces at 🪐, and the staff were definitely murmuring. But Mingyu just leaned back on his hands, satisfied. “One day,” he murmured, “they’ll get it.”
🪐 rolled his eyes, but didn’t take the keychain off.
Present time ---
The press room was buzzing so loud it felt like the air itself was shaking. Camera flashes went off in bursts, reporters shouting over each other for the first comment.
Mingyu’s hand brushed against 🪐's under the table—steady, warm, grounding. 🪐 didn’t look at him, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, tugging upward.
“We’d like to thank everyone for coming,” Mingyu started, voice calm in a way that only made the room lean in closer. “There’s been a lot of speculation about us over the years…” He laughed softly, glancing at 🪐 like he always did when he needed courage. “And… most of it was right.”
A ripple went through the crowd. 🪐 felt his chest tighten but in the good way, like breathing after holding it too long.
“We’ve been together for years,” he said simply, as if it wasn’t the biggest bombshell in HYBE history. Then he laced 🪐's fingers with his, right there on the table for every camera to see. “And now, we’re getting married.”
The room exploded. Reporters yelling, fans outside screaming loud enough to shake the windows. But Mingyu only looked at 🪐, eyes crinkling the way they always did when it was just them in the practice room or in his car at 2 a.m.
“Finally,” 🪐 whispered, barely audible over the noise.
“Finally,” he echoed, squeezing 🪐's hand, like the world could do whatever it wanted now—he wasn’t letting go.