CHRIMATA ⋆ closed

“You stopped kissing me.”

“For two seconds while I finish my chapter,” you reminded him, flipping the page. There were only three paragraphs left. He could wait. 

“Hurry up,” he complained, resting his head on your shoulder, eyes dropping down to skim the words on the page. He never understood why you always read romance books when he was right in front of you. Thirty seconds felt like hours to Sion, but when you finally moved your bookmark to the page, his eyes lit up. You didn’t have a chance to get a word in edgewise before the book was knocked out of the way, and Sion’s hand turned your head towards him for his long-awaited kiss. 

Long-awaited was an exaggeration, but there was rarely a day that your boyfriend wasn’t a little dramatic. That didn’t matter now, though, as you tasted his lips again, eyes falling closed naturally. Now determined to give your boyfriend exactly what he wanted, you pushed his shoulder back, lips still interlocked, until he rested against the headboard of the bed. 

Hands squeezing his shoulder, you finally pulled back from the kiss, slightly breathless. Sion’s eyes followed you, a slight smirk on his face, and yearning eyes longing for more. You smiled at him, pushing back some of his hair and cupping his cheeks. One hand traced his jawline, finger catching under his chin to lift it up. His soft eyes stared at yours, cheeks starting to flush under your touch. You only giggled at how cute he was, placing a few quick kisses to the beauty marks and freckles on his face. 

Sion’s eyes fluttered closed, soft giggles escaping his lips as your feather-light touch slightly tickled his face. He simply adored moments like this. When he was the focus of all your attention; when the world seemed to fade away, and it was just you two drowning in the love you shared. 

It wasn’t long before your lips found his again, gently dancing in tandem with the other. Soft lips and warm tongue falling into each other. Sion’s hands wandered to your waist, pulling you closer. You felt like you could stay like this forever, the taste of Sion’s lips and the warmth of his flushed skin under your body addicting you more every time you kissed him. 

Sion was the first to separate, breathless but still holding you close. There was a moment of silence before you both broke out in giggles. You fell completely into Sion’s hold, no longer trying to keep your head up as you nuzzled into his neck. His arms wrapped around you, hugging you ever close, as if even a single inch of space between you and him would end the world. 

“I love you so much,” you mumbled. The palm you rested on his chest allowed you to feel his heartbeat, still racing slightly. 

“I know.” Sion smiled, all the warm feelings of love swirling in his chest at the sound of your voice. 

“Thought I should tell you more often,” you whispered quietly, an equally big smile on your face as you snuggled closer to him. 

“I love you too.”

when done just right, one’s magic could flow through the music 

and love could blossom forth right from the song

while other students focused on the accuracy of their arrows, brewing new potions, or cooking their magic into new recipes, daeyoung is cooped up in the music room

there’s only one piano left in the school

one that had been around and preserved for generations

whenever the boy plays it, he can feel the lingering magic of many cupids before him

the ability to charm anyone who heard his song

the satisfaction it brings to hear such beautiful melodies produced through the keys and his magic flowing in harmony

it captures daeyoung’s very soul

the music room soon became his 

all the teachers know he is the only student who ever plays the piano

the only one who ever spends time in the old room

while the campus is teeming with young rambunctious cupids, there’s one quiet boy who keeps to himself and his music

but one day as he’s on his way to the piano after lunch, his usual routine, he hears the melody of a song from the end of the hallway

curious, daeyoung creeps closer

he’d never met another cupid who played an instrument

but as he peers through the window of the room, he sees you seated at the piano, picking out a simple melody

and there he stays, listening to you play

a smile growing on his face and his heart starting to pound unknowingly 

maybe song magic wasn’t as forgotten as daeyoung had thought

and maybe he was starting to feel the effects of such magic on himself 

HIROSE RYO ﾐ 廣瀬遼

ryo has a reputation at the cupid society

he’s the master trickster, the ultimate jokester, the unrivaled menace on campus

and you? you’re his famed sidekick

best friends, inseparable, and equally as known for getting into trouble

there’s nothing ryo loves more than to see the teachers get headaches from all his shenanigans 

and the best part?

you and him always seem to get away with it

with your quick wits and unlimited connections through students, you have your ways of gaining endless entertainment 

with all the cupid magic around, it’s a given that the young students around will want to explore their abilities

and after seeing some of the more experienced cupids make people fall in love with them at will, you decide you also want to try

ryo gets in on it as well and it becomes a friendly competition with a bet on the line 

who can make someone fall in love with them with their cupid magic first?

although the idea is simple, the process proves difficult for ryo

especially with his beginner cupid magic, still in his second year of training

his spells go wrong, his potions blow up in his face, and his arrows all seem to miss

but he’s not one to give up yet

the entire school has heard about the bet by now 

with everyone on their guard it becomes even harder to find someone to make fall in love with him

each student he approaches just dismisses him

and the amount of protective charms against love cast around him is off the charts high

maybe he just needs someone who doesn’t expect it

so ryo decides that he’ll make you fall in love with him

and it seems like his plan was genius

you, totally unsuspecting, fall right into ryo’s love magic

the boy wins the bet and the secrets to love all in one day

FUJINAGA SAKUYA ﾐ 藤永咲哉

within the first week of his attendance this boy somehow manages to get multiple love bites snuck into his food

the effects of them upon consumption were immediate

except usually when one eats a love candy, their feelings manifest for a single person

the problem sakuya has is he has no idea who he is in love with

he ate too many at once

the symptoms are there: the racing heart, the flushed cheeks, the stammering, the butterflies

he feels like he’s in love but the feelings aren’t associated with anyone at all

you, being sakuya’s close friend, have no choice but to search for a solution to his problem along with ryo

with a little research from the library, you diagnose sakuya to be lovesick

overdosed on love candies and now the symptoms are overwhelming, refusing to go away

and while it was a funny turn of events at first, it gets tiring fast

especially to saku who would do anything to get his heart to stop racing all the time :(

you and ryo decide to try possible cures

from solitary confinement to trying to get sakuya to actually fall in love, nothing seemed to work

until one day when you had a brilliant idea taken straight from all the classic old fairy tales

a kiss

ryo, of course refusing to kiss his best friend, throws the task to you while sakuya sits there flustered the entire time

you muster yourself to press a kiss to his cheek

you didn’t expect it to work, and neither did ryo or sakuya

but the indicators of his condition seem to slowly fade away

not completely, but at least to a manageable amount 

the new problem is, now sakuya can’t stop thinking about the kiss

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

this inflates his ego though

will not use his “skills” on demand for anyone

no matter how much another student offers to pay him 

and his ability to refuse any offer he gets just makes him get even more

and this boosts his ego even more until he’s almost insufferably full of himself

his ego is eventually shut down by you though

when you start to compete with him over who can be a better cupid

and eventually one of your arrows ends up hitting him

the boy is down bad for you from that moment on

perhaps that was your plan the entire time 

MAEDA RIKU ﾐ 前田 陸

riku is the type of student that everyone loves

he’s always showing people around and helping them out

as if he’s been attending the school for decades

knows all the in’s and out’s

is somehow friends with every teacher

even knows secret pieces of knowledge about cupids and their magic

and he really likes to share the things he knows with people close to him

builds up a reputation this way as someone that is impossible to dislike 

and he’s seriously popular with the girls as well

not that any of them land a date with him though

the one thing he does keep secret is the person he’s been crushing on since he first stepped into the school

although he is very talented with a bow and arrow

and can also concoct a pretty strong love potion

he knows not to use his magic on you

it would be wrong to make you fall in love with him like that

and he would feel too guilty about it 

so he stays admiring you from the background hoping one day he’ll get the courage to ask you out

but lucky for him he won’t have to wait too long :)

TOKUNO YUSHI ﾐ 得能勇志

he’s quite inconspicuous  

doesn’t talk very much and is quite shy with other students 

so no one really gets to know him well

if they did, they would find out how passionate he truly is as a new cupid

he spends most of his time sharpening his arrows or trying new potion recipes

he even concocts his own potions that have never been done before

he doesn’t have anyone to test them out on, so he has to be his own test subject

they’re usually ineffective despite his attempts at researching

when the potions go wrong, he goes missing from classes for days at a time

you’ve noticed yushi from the sidelines and became curious about his disappearances

you decide to become his friend to find out why

which is hard at first because he’s incredibly awkward and it takes a while to get comfortable with him

but, with persistence, you do 

he tells you about his potions, which you find fascinating 

and finally having someone who is genuinely interested in him and what he’s doing is the push yushi needs to gain some confidence

you become best friends and always hang around each other

eventually, you test out one of yushi’s new potions with him

and it goes a little wrong right

yushi is so used to his potions failing that he hadn’t expected this one to work quite so well

now he has to deal with his best friend utterly enamoured with him every second of the day

but maybe that isn’t such a bad thing

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

park sungho.

sungho is a walking contradiction.

he tries so hard to act cool when the ship is mentioned, brushing it off with a shrug. “ah, fans are just having fun,” he’d say, his tone so nonchalant it almost seems convincing. but his red ears? they give him away every time.

fans live for the moments when he accidentally lets his guard down. like when someone shows him a video of you during a variety show—he’d sit there watching quietly, trying to suppress a smile, his lips twitching ever so slightly. but then jaehyun would chime in loudly, “why are you smiling so much?” causing sungho to immediately snap, “i’m not!” his voice a little too defensive as he avoids all eye contact, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

if you ever approach him at an event, though, his whole “cool guy” act crumbles. he’d stammer out a polite greeting, bowing so low and so awkwardly that his members have to stifle their laughter in the background. his hands fidget nervously, and he can barely meet your eyes.

later, when clips of the interaction inevitably surface online, fans zoom in on the way sungho sneaks lingering glances at you throughout the event. they also catch the soft, almost dreamy smile he wears whenever you’re speaking. within minutes, the clips go viral, with captions like, “bro is down bad.”

when he’s alone, though, he replays the clip of the two of you interacting like he’s preparing for a dissertation, his eyes glued to the screen as he analyzes every detail—how close you were standing, the way your voice sounded, and whether or not you smiled at him. his members tease him relentlessly about it, but sungho just mutters, “it’s not a big deal,” even though he knows he’s so far gone. 

lee riwoo.

he is so obvious it hurts.

fans catch him dancing to your songs a little too much during livestreams, his grin wide and his moves full of energy, as if he’s the biggest fan. “it’s just a catchy song!” he insists, trying to downplay it, but the way he lights up whenever your music starts playing says so much more.

his real feelings become painfully clear when you invite him to do a dance challenge together. on the outside, he’s all smiles, nodding eagerly, but on the inside? he’s screaming. internally losing it.

the moment you step into the same frame, though, his usual confidence evaporates. he stumbles over the choreography, his nerves getting the best of him, laughing awkwardly as he messes up. fans immediately notice how red he goes, and they absolutely eat it up. meanwhile, you just find him adorable, completely unaware of how flustered he is.

he’s a shy babygirl™ through and through, so whenever someone asks about it directly, he stammers, looking to his members for help like they’ll come to his rescue.

fans catch on quickly, noticing how he starts fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, or blushing whenever your name comes up in conversation. he denies being affected, always trying to play it off, but his members totally snitch on him during live streams, exposing how he practices greeting you in front of the mirror, muttering to himself, “hi, yn, i’m jaehyun, nice to meet you…” while his face turns as red as a tomato.

obvious, but too cute for words. 

han taesan.

this man is a pro at subtlety.

he doesn’t outright acknowledge the ship, but fans quickly catch on to how much effort he puts into feeding it.

during music shows and award events, he’s always in the background, staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and it's so obvious that fans can't help but point it out. whenever you’re on stage or accepting an award, he’s just there, soft smile plastered on his face, his eyes shining with pride. fans zoom in on clips of him, his gaze lingering on you, and caption them with things like, “taesan’s proud bf energy!” and the ship goes viral.

he’s definitely the type to secretly read fanfiction about the two of you..

when the members tease him about how much he lights up whenever your name comes up, he completely freezes. sungho teasingly asks, “taesan, didn’t you say you wanted to collab with yn?” and taesan, flustered and caught off guard, panic-answers, “n-no... i mean, maybe... let’s move on,” but you can tell he’s dying on the inside, trying to keep his cool. secretly, though, he’s probably rehearsing how he’d casually talk to you during the collab

he’s the type to subtly bring you up in interviews, too—“yn’s songs are great; i’ve been listening to them a lot lately”—just to see if fans catch it. and spoiler alert: they absolutely do.

kim leehan.

the definition of soft.

the first time he sees a ship edit of the two of you, his reaction is straight out of a romcom. it’s almost too cute to handle—he lets out an embarrassed laugh, his hands immediately flying up to hide his smile. “ah, fans are so funny,” he says, but his voice is so much softer than usual, and his blush? it gives him away. his ears turn red, and he’s absolutely melting inside, not knowing how to react to being the subject of such a sweet edit.

whenever he’s around you, he can't even hold a normal conversation without giggling nervously and stumbling over his words, offering compliments in the most awkward yet endearing way. and then there’s that awkward pause where he starts fidgeting, trying to salvage what little dignity he has left. but it's clear to everyone that he’s completely flustered and totally into you.

Still, fans adore how genuine and sweet he is, especially when he unknowingly matches his mood to yours—smiling when you’re happy or looking concerned when you seem tired.   

kim woonhak.

woonhak is so loud in denying the ship that it’s painfully obvious he’s head over heels in love with you.

during live streams, as soon as fans even hint at mentioning you, he immediately shouts, “no way! that’s not true!”—almost too loudly, as if trying to convince both the fans and himself. 

but behind the scenes? he’s absolutely dying. when no one’s looking, he’s re-watching every single interaction the two of you have had, replaying the moments over and over, giggling nervously and trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal, but deep down, he knows it’s everything to him.

his members absolutely love stirring the pot, casually bringing you up just to see woonhak completely flail. “didn’t you say yn’s your ideal type?” taesan asks with a smirk, clearly enjoying the chaos. woonhak's face goes red in an instant, his eyes wide as he shakes his head vigorously. “i NEVER said that!” he insists, but everyone can see the way his lips twitch into a nervous smile, the way his hands fidget. fans eat it up, capturing every moment of him flustered.

he’s definitely the type to act all cool in front of everyone, but when it comes to you? he turns into a nervous, giggly mess. 

once, he accidentally liked one of your posts while scrolling through your feed, and when fans pointed it out, he immediately went into full denial mode, spamming “NO” on weverse and trying to distract everyone by starting a random conversation about something totally unrelated. but in his mind, he's already panicking—did they see that?

even when it’s not about you directly, you can see how his mood changes whenever your name is mentioned, like his face softens a little, or he just gives a tiny smile that he tries to hide. he’s loud, energetic, but soft for you in ways that he’s too embarrassed to admit.

ㅤㅤiRAㅤ:ㅤwe all know what inspired me to write this 🤭

ㅤㅤ•ㅤㅤfeedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

“I’m not injured! I guess I just wanted to see you,” he explained bashfully. You stilled his head, making eye contact with him.

“Are you sure? You’re really not hurt?” Hanjin was a terrible liar, and you could hear it in his voice that he was hiding something. 

“I’m okay, it’s just—”

“How long have you had that cut?” you gasped, quickly locating a gash on your boyfriend’s forearm. It didn’t look deep, but it was still bleeding, and definitely needed to be taken care of sooner rather than later. You led him to a chair to sit down before he could say another word, grabbing the necessary supplies you needed.

“How’d you even get hurt?” you asked, rolling up his sleeve before getting to work. Your boyfriend slumped in the chair, a pout present on his face. Sure, he did come to get the cut sorted out, but he really hadn’t meant to worry you like this. His original plan was to somehow sneak some bandaids from under your eye, but he should’ve known you were too observant for him to ever get away with that.

“Just… a little accident,” he said vaguely, looking away from you as your gentle hands worked, applying some type of ointment to his arm and securing it with pink sanrio bandage. 

“‘A little accident’? Please elaborate on that.”

Hanjin’s stomach twisted. Truthfully, he had been working on a gift for you with the art and carpentry students, but some tools had spilled on accident and nicked his arm during the process. It really wasn’t anything major, but if he explained the situation in any more detail, his entire surprise would be ruined. It was your last year together in high school, and he wanted to make something special for you before the end of the year. A little memento to remember your high school years together. 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Y/n. I promise,” he assured you, pleading with his eyes that you would drop it. You were confused as to why he was being so secretive. Your boyfriend rarely hid anything from you. But clearly it was something that he didn’t want you to know, for whatever reason, so you dropped the question for now.

“Tell me later, though, okay?”

He agreed to it easily, which eased your mind that it was nothing serious like he said. You would find out in due time regardless. Graduation was in a few weeks, and Hanjin’s little surprise was coming along perfectly, despite the little injury he got along the way.

tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @50-husbands,,

@hursheys,, @imyuna-06,, @mjupis,, @stannwjnss,, @nonononranghaee,,

“Why do you need like 8 rubber bands?" You glanced at the accessories he chose.

“I have a vision, okay?” He said sassily as he began tying your hair.

“I don't trust your vision,” You felt another tug on your hair as soon as the words left your mouth.

You turned around again to glare at Gyuvin and threaten him when he moved your head back to the original position and continued working.

After a few more minutes of working, he was finally done. He grabbed his phone and handed it over to you to see his amazing vision.

He grins, seeing your expression as you look at your reflection through the phone. He gives you a moment to examine your new look, waiting for your reaction.

“What is this…..” You looked at your reflection in the front camera with horror.

“What do you mean by ‘what is this’? That is my vision. I should be a professional hairstylist,” He smiles, clearly satisfied with his work.

“Where this sad excuse of a half bun come from-”

“It is like Belle from Beauty and the Beast,” He explained his hairstyle.

“I look like the beast…..” You frowned as you touched the clips on your head.

“You literally have flowers in your hair. How are you the beast?! Stop insulting my work!” He smacked your hands away from the clips.

“Why are there so many clips? I am taking them off,”He immediately reaches out and grabs your wrist, stopping your movement and preventing you from messing up his work.

“Hey! don’t touch, i’m not done!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT DONE? I LITERALLY LOOK LIKE THERE IS A FLOWER GARDEN ON MY HEAD!”

“Sit still, you child ” He gives you a jokingly stern glare, his grip still holding onto your hand tightly.

“What is next? Butterflies?” You joked, and to your horror, he actually picked up a handful of butterfly clips.

“Now that you say it, butterflies might be a good addition,” You stared at him in horror.

“Don't worry, babe. I am joking about the butterflies,” He laughs at your reaction and places a small kiss on your forehead. You sighed in relief.

“Unless……”

“Gyuvin! No!”

But did he listen? No

So there you were, sulking on the couch with a bunch of flower and butterfly clips all over your head.

“I made you look so cute, and you made me look like a flower garden,” You sulked, making him laugh at your cuteness.

“You look adorable!”

“I know what will cheer you up?” You looked at him curiously. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled out his phone to take pictures of you.

You hid your face in your hands as he continued to take your pictures. He laughed loudly, finding your sulking and attempts at hiding your face adorable.

“This is wallpaper material. So cute!” He reaches up and runs his finger through your hair, purposefully making your hair more messy as you look at him with a blank look. He laughs at your reaction and shakes his head teasingly.

“Awww, look at you, being all grumpy because of your hair. It’s not that bad…” He grins, continuing to mess around with your hair, undoing all the work he did at styling it into a ‘flower garden’.

You reached up towards his hair, planning to mess his hair up too when he suddenly moves his head away from your fingers.

“Not today, flower garden,” Gyuvin teased, as he kept dodging your attempts.

©sxmmerberries

more zb1 fics

02. You’re getting ready for a friend’s birthday, standing in front of the mirror as you rant about your day to Jaehyun. He’s sprawled out on your bed, lazily watching you doll up for the event with an amused smile. Just as you finish with your makeup, you step back from the mirror to check your outfit, still talking about the minor frustrations of your day. Before you can take another step, Jaehyun gets up and gently pulls you back against him, his arms sliding around your waist. You let out a surprised yelp as his fingers brush against your collarbones, adjusting the clasp of your necklace and twisting it so it sits properly at the back. His touch lingers for a moment, feather-light against your skin. “There you go,” he says with a small smile, his dimples making another devastatingly cute appearance. You don’t realize you’re blushing until he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, bringing a finger up to gently poke your cheek. “Who’s the blush for, pretty?” he teases, his voice light and playful. Quickly shaking your head in denial, you mumble something incoherent, but Jaehyun just chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. He cups your jaw, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his as he leads you out of the house.

03. The crowd around you is overwhelming—voices blending into a loud hum, bodies pressing too close for comfort. You glance over at Jaehyun, who’s walking beside you, looking just as anxious as you feel. When your eyes meet, your hands instinctively reach for each other. Jaehyun’s hand is warm, his grip firm but reassuring. “Don’t let go,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand as he guides you through the sea of people. Even after you’re in the clear, standing in the open with space to breathe, he doesn’t let go. His thumb gently brushes over the back of your hand, sending tiny sparks through your skin. It’s as if holding on to you feels more natural to him than letting go, and honestly, you’re in no rush to pull away either.

park sungho.

01. You complain about your aching feet after a long walk—or worse, a painful shoe bite—and before you can finish, Sungho crouches down in front of you, rolling his eyes dramatically. "What did I tell you about wearing the wrong shoes?" he scolds, though there’s no real bite to his words. He pats his back, glancing at you over his shoulder with a grin. "Hop on." When you hesitate, he shifts impatiently, his voice turning into a whiny plea. "Come on, don’t make me beg." Your giggles fill the air as you finally climb onto his back, his hands steady and warm as they grip your thighs to hold you in place. He adjusts his hold before giving a satisfied hum. "See? Told you I’ve got you." You rest your chin on his shoulder, your laughter softening into a content smile as he carries you the rest of the way, his steps steady and comforting, just like him.

02. After a long, exhausting day, the two of you sit together on the bus ride home. You let out a quiet sigh, and that’s all Sungho needs to notice how tired you are. Without saying a word, he gently nudges your arm and gestures to his shoulder with a soft smile. You rest your head against him, the broadness of his shoulders providing an unexpected comfort despite the firmness of his muscles. He shifts slightly, leaning his cheek against the crown of your head. Just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the soft press of his lips against your hair, his kiss lingering for a moment, warm and tender.

03. Even when you insist you’re full, Sungho always saves the last bite for you—without fail. He picks it up and holds it out in front of your mouth, grinning cheekily. "Say aah," he teases, opening his own mouth wide in demonstration. You try to suppress a laugh at your boyfriend’s antics but give in, letting him feed you. The satisfaction in his eyes as you take the bite is almost comical, and you’re just about to tease him when he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. Your words die in your throat as heat rises to your face, leaving you flustered and Sungho grinning wider.

lee riwoo.

01. You’re both busy with your own things—he’s watching a show on TV while you’re curled up next to him with a book, your legs resting comfortably over his. Every so often, Riwoo glances at you, quietly admiring the way your brows furrow in concentration, the way you absentmindedly fidget with your lower lip. When a strand of hair falls into your face, you don’t even notice. Riwoo does, though. Gently, he tucks the strand behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your skin for the briefest moment. “There,” he murmurs softly, turning his attention back to the TV, though the shy smile creeping onto his face betrays him.

02. Riwoo isn’t the type to initiate big, dramatic displays of affection, but sometimes, when the moment feels just right, he can’t help himself. Like now, as you stand in the kitchen, focused on something entirely mundane—washing dishes, chopping vegetables, or scrolling through a recipe on your phone. Quietly, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, moving your hair aside to rest his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You flinch slightly at the sudden contact, letting out a small gasp. “You startled me,” you murmur, though your voice softens as you relax in his hold. “’M sorry,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your skin, his arms tightening just a bit more as his hands come together, anchoring you in place.

03. You’re running late, practically hopping around as you slip your shoes on, fingers raking through your hair in a futile attempt to tame it. Riwoo watches from the doorway, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as you huff in frustration. He steps forward, gently tugging your arm to stop you. “Here, let me fix it,” he says softly, his voice low and soothing. Before you can protest, his hands are in your hair, his fingers working delicately through the tangles. He smooths down the flyaways, combing through the strands with practiced ease, his touch gentle but sure. When he’s done, he steps back, tilting his head slightly as he admires his work—and you. “What?” you ask, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips. “So pretty,” he says simply. Before you can recover, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Bye, love,” he whispers, stepping back as you leave the house. Your knees feel wobbly, your heart racing as you glance back at him one last time before heading out, a giddy smile tugging at your own lips.

han taesan.

01. It’s late, and you’re both supposed to be asleep unless you want to risk being late for work the next morning. But none of that seems to matter. You stand on your tiptoes to pull the ice cream from the freezer, feeling Taesan’s presence lingering behind you. You place the tub on the counter when you feel him tug at the sleeve of your hoodie. Turning around, you’re met with the sight of Taesan’s face bathed in the soft glow of the refrigerator light, his eyes holding a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. He steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you toward him. His forehead rests gently against yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment steals your breath. Instinctively, your hand lifts to brush against his cheek, but he winces at the chill of your fingers against his warm skin. “Sorry,” you giggle softly, pulling your hand back quickly. Taesan’s lips twitch into a small, lopsided smile as he takes your hands in his, enveloping them in his warmth. He rubs them gently, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles until the coldness fades. But even when your hands are warm, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he lifts one of your hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before leaning forward to place another on your forehead. He rests his cheek against your temple, his arms wrapping around you fully now as he sways the two of you back and forth in the quiet stillness of 3 a.m. The faint hum of the fridge fills the silence, but all you can focus on is the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his heartbeat against yours.

02. You’re scrolling through your phone, sitting comfortably on the couch with your legs tucked under you, when Taesan plops down beside you. He sits in silence for a while, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater as he debates whether or not to get your attention. Eventually, he scoots closer, gently unfolding your legs, and rests his head in your lap, instantly relaxing as the exhaustion of the day melts away. You glance down at him, confusion crossing your face, but Taesan simply grins up at you with half-lidded eyes. Without saying a word, he reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you bite back a smile, amused by his clingy behavior. Slowly, you start to run your fingers through his hair, the rhythm soothing both him and you. Taesan hums contentedly, his body shifting as he gets more comfortable on your thighs. You look back at your phone, but your fingers never stop moving through his hair. Your attention is fully on the pretty boy with his head resting on your lap, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

03.

You’re out shopping with Taesan, almost ready to leave after grabbing everything that caught your eye, but you’re too tired to shop any longer. Taesan is holding all your shopping bags, despite your insistence on carrying at least one. He refused to let you. You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor. The strap of your purse keeps slipping off your shoulder, and you unknowingly let out an irritated huff as you pull it up for the fourth time in the past two minutes.

“Give it to me,” Taesan says, taking the little bag from you before you can protest. You don’t even know how he’s managed to hold all these bags.

“Taesan, I can hold my purse myself,” you say firmly, but he just clicks his tongue.

“Well, you clearly can’t if you keep dropping it.”

You frown. “I didn’t drop it—”

Before you can finish, his lips press against yours—firm but soft—before pulling away almost immediately.

“Hush, I’m fine with holding your bags, baby.”

You can’t say anything to that, too flustered to even look at him. Your eyes fall on a little girl standing behind you, who bursts into a fit of giggles at the sight of the kiss your boyfriend just gave you. You scrunch your nose at her before resting your cheek against Taesan’s shoulder, biting your lip to stop yourself from giggling like the girl behind you.

kim leehan.

01.

You’re sitting in the corner of a quiet cafe, focused on an assignment that’s due in a few days. Leehan, however, is not as focused. He had plenty of work to do, but after ten minutes, his attention was already drifting. He kept turning his phone on and off, scanning the cafe, and gossiping in your ear whenever someone did something questionable. He fidgeted with your pens, did everything but study.

Finally, he grabbed a pen and gently took your hand, guiding it toward him. You didn’t resist; anything to let this boy distract himself so you could focus. The cool pen glided over the back of your hand as he started doodling.

A few minutes later, you felt him looking up at you with a gleam in his eyes. You glanced down at the back of your hand and saw two fish drawn with a green pen, sloppily yet endearingly, with a heart between them. One fish had wide eyes and a ridiculously joyful expression, while the other had smaller eyes and furrowed eyebrows. A fish with eyebrows? But you didn’t question it.

"Let me guess," you said, your lips curling into a smile, "I’m the grumpy one?"

Leehan nodded enthusiastically. "Cute, right?" he beamed. "They’re in love," he added dreamily.

You smiled at the doodle, finding it impossibly cute. You’d never wash it off if you could.

"Hold on," he said. "I’ll draw our kids too."

"Leehan!"

02. You groan softly as sunlight pours through the window, squinting and turning to face the other way. Leehan is already awake, watching you with a sleepy, gentle smile. "Morning," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. It never fails to surprise you how cheerful he can be, even when sunlight is harshly poking at your eyes on a Sunday morning at 8 a.m.

You grumble in response, your words unintelligible as you move closer to Leehan, nuzzling against his side and pulling the blankets tighter around you. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in his warm embrace, his hand gently running through your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers. You grab a fistful of his shirt, holding him even tighter as you snuggle into his chest.

"Wake up, baby," you hear him murmur, his voice soft and full of affection. You mumble, "Five more minutes, please," and feel Leehan nod in understanding. Five minutes pass, and he still holds you close, continuing to run his fingers through your hair, allowing you to cling to him for as long as you need, because he enjoys it just as much as you do.

His gentle touch and soothing presence make it so easy to forget about the world outside, leaving you feeling safe and content in his arms. You can’t imagine a better way to start your day.

03. You were talking a mile a minute, hands gesturing wildly as you went on and on about some random thing that had happened during the day. Leehan, on the other hand, was quietly listening, his eyes soft and amused as they watched you talk.

“You know,” you continued, oblivious to the way his lips curled into a smile, “I think it’s just—” Before you could go on any longer, Leehan suddenly leaned forward, cutting you off mid-sentence. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. And before you could even react, his lips pressed against yours, silencing your rambling in the sweetest way possible. The kiss was soft, a little teasing, and it made your heart race all at once.

When he pulled away just enough to look at you, his face was flushed, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You were talking a lot,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

You blinked at him, cheeks turning a soft pink. “Leehan...” you whispered, still a little breathless. He gave you a playful grin and pecked your lips again, this time lingering just a bit longer, his hand softly cupping your cheek.

“Couldn’t resist,” he murmured, his voice warm and fond. “Every time you talk, I just wanna kiss you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned into him, feeling his arms wrap around you as he pulled you closer. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep talking, then.”

kim woonhak.

01. It wasn’t unusual for Woonhak to absentmindedly play with your hair. Sometimes it started with a little twirl or a soft tug to smooth a flyaway, but soon his fingers would weave through your hair in the gentlest way, like he couldn’t help himself.

One afternoon, as you sat on the floor reading, your head resting against his knee as he lounged behind you on the couch, his hand found your hair again. He started with soft motions—tucking strands behind your ear, brushing his fingers through lightly. The repetitive movement was so soothing you closed your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.

After a while, his movements changed. You felt him section off a small part of your hair and begin braiding it, the motions careful and deliberate. He worked with so much focus, as though he didn’t want to accidentally tug too hard or mess up your peaceful moment. A small smile played on your lips as you let him continue, enjoying the way he was putting so much care into something as simple as your hair.

“Umm, YN… I think I messed up.”

Curious, you touched the braid—and gasped. It wasn’t a braid; it was a bird’s nest more than anything. “Woonhak!”

His eyes widened, and he clasped his hands together, leaning in dramatically. “I’m so sorry, baby! I swear I didn’t mean to destroy your hair.” Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Forgive me?” he asked softly, his lips brushing your temple before planting another kiss just above your ear.

You sighed, trying to stay annoyed, but he made it impossible. “Not fair,” you muttered, tilting your head toward him as his lips trailed to your cheek.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured, grinning against your skin.

“Only if you help me fix this mess.”

You laughed as he gently guided you to sit between his knees, his hands carefully working through the tangle of knots. His fingers, though slightly clumsy, moved delicately as he untangled strand by strand. Occasionally, he’d pause to place a soft kiss on the top of your head or your shoulder, murmuring little apologies that made your heart flutter.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you mumbled, leaning back slightly against him.

02. Woonhak had an adorable habit of always saving you a seat, no matter where you went. It was second nature to him—at the library, the cafeteria, or even during group hangouts. He’d drape his jacket over a chair or place his bag on it, giving you a small grin when you arrived, as if to say, This is for you. He never made a big deal out of it, either. It was just something he did, quietly and without fuss, as natural as breathing.

Today, your friends had decided on a casual lunch after school. The restaurant was buzzing with chatter, and by the time you arrived, it seemed every seat at the table was already taken—except for one, right next to Woonhak. He looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up instantly. “Over here,” he called softly, patting the empty chair beside him. You made your way over, a little flustered by the attention but grateful nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you murmured as you slid in, your shoulder brushing his. His arm instinctively came to rest on the back of your seat, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. The conversation flowed easily among your friends, but your little bubble with Woonhak remained. Under the table, his knee pressed gently against yours. You shifted slightly, and he pressed back, as if to say, Stay close.

At one point, he casually reached for your hand, his pinky hooking around yours before giving a soft squeeze. You glanced at him, catching the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to focus on his food. But the pink hue dusting his cheeks gave him away completely.

And just like that, with your knees touching and his hand brushing yours, everything else was background noise—leaving only the two of you, perfectly at ease in each other’s presence.

03. It was one of those perfect winter evenings—the air crisp, your breath puffing out in soft clouds as you walked down the street. You were a step ahead of Woonhak, chatting animatedly about something that had happened earlier in the day, your hands flying in every direction to emphasize your points. Woonhak wasn’t saying much today. He liked listening to you like this—watching the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, the way your scarf bobbed with every enthusiastic gesture. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he trailed behind, letting you lead the way.

The crosswalk came into view, and the light had just turned yellow, but you were too caught up in your story to notice. You stepped forward without thinking, and Woonhak’s hand darted out instinctively, wrapping gently around your arm. “Wait,” he said softly, pulling you back just as a car sped past. You blinked, startled, and turned to look at him. “Just… be careful,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool, but the redness creeping up his ears betrayed him.

Before you could say anything, he slid his hand down from your arm and intertwined his fingers with yours, slipping both of your hands into the pocket of his coat. The warmth of his palm against yours immediately chased away the chill in the air. You glanced down at your joined hands, a shy smile tugging at your lips at your boyfriend’s sweet gesture to make sure you were safe.

But when he got home to you, the chance to truly decompress from that stress came. And on particularly hard days at work, or a bad week building up, Sion felt close to breaking by the time he got home to you. You seemed to always know exactly what was going on in his head and exactly what he needed to relax. Somehow, you were able to repair him enough so he felt strong again for the next day.

He wondered what he would even do without you. While everyone was relying on him throughout the day, Sion relied on you during the night. Every warm hug, comforting kiss, and soft-spoken word reminded him that you would already be right by his side, through the highs and the lows. Whatever storm clouds blackened his mind; you were right there to fight them off, to bring the sun back again. 

And sometimes, all it took was some rain.

Sion couldn’t sleep well. It was unusual. The man who claimed he could easily sleep for 24 hours straight was now unable to fall into that dreamland, despite how exhausted his body was. He kept drifting in and out of dreams— all of them unpleasant. His schedule had been particularly busy that week, and his workload as the leader was especially challenging. He tried to not let it affect the team, always doing the best he could regardless of his mental or physical state. Professionalism seemed to run through his veins. He wanted to set a good example for the younger boys as well. He couldn’t show how much he was struggling as well. Not in front of them. 

But, in front of you, he was able to be vulnerable. He could tell you all his worries without it affecting team morale. You were a shoulder to lean on— his comfort. He relied on you more than he would like to admit. There were always fun times in your relationship, but nothing was ever perfect. During the harder times, you held each other tighter and got through it as a team. If there was one thing you promised when you first called Sion your boyfriend, was that you wouldn’t leave him to suffer through something alone. 

Sion tossed and turned, mind dizzy from the miserable dreams he was having whenever he managed to force his body to sleep. It was probably 3AM by now, and he knew he had to get up by 6. He needed more sleep.

He hated disturbing you, especially when you looked so comfortable under the blankets, one leg propped up over his under them. But he also knew what you would say if you saw him leave for work tired again. Your skin was warm, and he was aching to hold you closer. So, he swallowed his selflessness and turned over, leaving the blank ceiling from his vision and replacing it with your sleeping face. 

He rubbed your arm gently, waiting for you to stir. And it didn’t take long; you had always been a light sleeper, unlike him. Once you blinked your eyes open enough to adjust your vision, noticing the outline of your boyfriend’s face and how he was awake, you knew something must be wrong. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you sat up, fully alert by now. Your boyfriend was never awake this late in the night. You were about to reach for the lamp until Sion’s hand stopped you. 

“It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep,” he mumbled, voice sleepier than yours despite his obvious lack of it. 

“Can’t sleep? That is serious,” you pointed out, lying back down on the pillow. “Nightmares?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m just stressed,” your boyfriend admitted, hand rubbing over his eyes. 

“Work has been a lot lately. I’ll help you get to sleep. Come here,” you motioned him closer, and Sion obliged, falling into your arms with ease. You adjusted his messy hair to be out of his face and rubbed his back, hoping to lull him to sleep as quickly as possible. A 7AM workday start certainly didn’t leave much more time. 

“You put too much pressure on yourself, baby,” you reminded him while your fingers traced lines over his face in a soothing manner. He hummed in acknowledgement, agreeing to your statement wordlessly. 

You knew it would take more of you repeating those words for him to truly ease some of that pressure off his back, but you were determined to win the race steadily. In these simple moments, your love for Sion shone the brightest. When he was at his weakest, you were his strength. When he felt broken, you pieced him back together again. And he knew he could always rely on you.

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

He grinned mischievously and continued to eat more, looking you in the eye while he did it.

You let out a huge sigh of disbelief before pushing him out of the kitchen area.

“Hey!” He tried to push himself back in.

“Come on, I'm gonna get some more anyways,” He kept trying to get back into the kitchen. You quickly grabbed all the chocolates and mixed them in the batter before he could get to them again.

He fell on the floor dramatically and gasped, “How could you do this to me!”. You ignored his dramatic antics as you went to get the baking pan for the brownies. Gyuvin stepped closer to the bowl of the batter as he stared intensely at it.

“My chocolates,” He thought as he pouted, looking at the chunks of chocolates mixed in the batter.

He continues staring at the batter, clearly looking very tempted to stick his finger in it to taste it.

“Gyuvin, no! Don't you dare!” You warned him as you saw him secretly devising something in his cute little head.

“I really wanna taste it. Can I?,” He asks, almost like a little kid asking for candy.

“Please? Pretty please? Just a little taste?,” He requested, grabbing a big spoon to taste it.

“There are raw eggs and flour in the batter. You'll get food poisoning,” You moved the bowl of batter away from him and poured it in the pan, much to his dismay.

"The last time you ate raw cookie dough and then got food poisoning! Did you not learn your lesson?," You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t care, I still want to taste it! I'm sure a little bit won't do anything to me,” He kept trying to get closer to it, already reaching out to put his spoon in the pan now.

He scooped out a huge spoonful of batter before you could stop him and shoved it in his mouth as you looked at him with bewilderment.

“See, a little bit does nothing! I am totally fine!” He tried to get another spoonful, but you quickly moved towards the oven before he could try something again.

Just before you could put it in the oven, Gyuvin suddenly snatched the pan out of your grip and ran away with it, already shoving big spoonfuls of the batter in his mouth. He had the pan in a death grip as he ran away.

“This is mine now!” He stuck out his tongue at you before eating more spoonfuls of it, with you chasing behind him to get your pan back. He licked the leftover batter outside of the pan after finishing the entire thing.

He grinned mischievously, handing you the now empty pan as you sulk at the sight.

He sighs, satisfied from eating the rest of the batter, “That honestly made my day! You should make brownies more often,” He said with a smirk.

“What am I going to tell Yujin now?” You sighed at the sight of the empty pan which had been licked clean by your boyfriend.

“Well you can either tell him I ate the batter or you figure out a way to make some more brownies. It’s not my fault the batter tastes so good,” He said with a shrug, fully planning on attacking the new batter too if you made a new batch.

“YOU ATE ALL THE CHOCOLATES, YOU MONSTER!” You exclaimed, realising you don't have the main ingredient to remake the batter again.

“They were so good! This wouldn't have happened if you let me have them normally,” He shrugged, making you glare at him.

A few hours later, you heard hurried footsteps towards the bathroom. You followed Gyuvin as he threw open the bathroom door and immediately started vomiting.

“You okay?,” You asked, rubbing his back a bit to comfort him.

“Ugh, I think you were right about the food poisoning,” He looked at you with a miserable look before throwing up again.

“Why didn't you stop me?,” He groaned, looking up at you.

“Someone ran away with the whole pan of batter even after I warned them and then stuck their tongue at me,” You replied with a sarcastic tone.

“Touché,”

©sxmmerberries

more zb1 fics

But now? Now it’s Christmas morning, and you’re cocooned in a fortress of tissues and blankets. The air smells faintly of menthol rub, and the soft hum of holiday music from your neighbor’s house makes your head throb.

“Why am I like this?” you mumble, voice raspier than you’d like.

You barely have time to pity yourself before your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You glance at it. The bright screen momentarily blinds you, but the name glowing there is enough to make your headache take a backseat.

Woonhak.

Your best friend. The guy who’s been there through thick and thin, who’s probably spent more time at your house than his own. The guy who’s annoyingly, infuriatingly perfect.

You swipe to open the message.

“Merry Christmas! 🎄 Are you alive over there?”

You groan. He knows you’re sick—he knew yesterday when you had to cancel your annual Christmas Eve movie marathon. He’d dropped off a care package with a smug grin, promising to “check in.”

You type back:

“Barely. Thanks for the plague.”

His response is immediate.

“Rude. I’m coming over.”

You barely have time to protest before your doorbell rings. How does he do that? You shuffle to the door, dragging your blanket around your shoulders like some kind of discount holiday ghost.

When you open the door, there he is—Woonhak. Tall, annoyingly cheerful, holding two cups of something steaming in his hands. He’s wearing a ridiculous Santa hat that only makes him look more infuriatingly festive.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“You’re going to catch this,” you warn, closing the door behind him.

He grins. “I have the immune system of a tank. Here.”

He thrusts one of the cups into your hands. It’s hot chocolate—you can smell it, rich and sweet.

“Bribery?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Christmas cheer,” he corrects. He plops down on your couch, kicking off his shoes and settling in like he owns the place.

You sigh, sitting next to him. “You really didn’t have to come.”

“Yeah, but you were wallowing,” he says, stealing a sip from your cup. “Can’t let that happen. Christmas is sacred.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the tiny smile that creeps onto your face. That’s the thing about Woonhak—he’s impossible to stay mad at.

It starts slow, like it always does with him. He pulls out his phone and forces you to watch a compilation of the worst Christmas fails he can find. He laughs until he’s clutching his stomach, and you’d roll your eyes again if his laugh weren’t so contagious.

Then it’s the Christmas playlist—Woonhak sings every song loudly and off-key, even adding a dramatic falsetto when Mariah Carey comes on. You groan and throw a pillow at him, but it only makes him louder.

By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re feeling less like a walking plague and more like...well, yourself. Your fever’s still lingering, and your voice is shot, but you’re laughing. And when Woonhak pulls out the board games he “just happened to bring,” you don’t even argue.

“I’m not letting you win just because you’re sick,” he says as he sets up the game.

“Good,” you croak. “I’d hate for you to get delusional.”

Somewhere between the fifth round of Uno and the second plate of cookies he insisted on baking (“Pre-made dough doesn’t count,” he said, all holier-than-thou as if he wasn’t the guy who once burnt toast), it hits you.

This is the best Christmas you’ve had in years.

Woonhak’s sprawled on the floor, arguing with himself over whether he should play a Draw Four card to win or “keep the spirit of Christmas alive” by going easy on you. You’re clutching your stomach, laughing harder than you have in weeks.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, wiping tears from your eyes.

“And you love it,” he shoots back, grinning.

You do. You really do.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re both bundled up on the couch. The lights on your tiny, slightly lopsided tree cast a warm glow around the room. “Home Alone” is playing on the TV, but neither of you is really watching.

“Hey,” Woonhak says, nudging you with his elbow. “Feeling better?”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For...this. For always showing up. Even when I’m gross and sick and—”

“Stop,” he interrupts, nudging you again. “You’d do the same for me.”

You would. Without hesitation.

You’re quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft chatter of the movie and the faint buzz of holiday cheer in the air. Then he speaks again, quieter this time.

“Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you, you know.”

Your chest tightens, and you glance up at him. His eyes are focused on the TV, but there’s something in his expression—something soft, something real.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Same here.”

And in that moment, wrapped in a blanket, your best friend beside you, you realize something. Maybe being sick on Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolls around, you’re finally feeling like yourself again. The sore throat is gone, your energy’s back, and your voice no longer sounds like a creaky door. It’s a miracle, really. You even manage to convince Woonhak to come over for a celebratory dinner.

“See?” you say smugly as you clear the table. “I told you I’d bounce back in time for the new year. Invincible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Woonhak mutters, slouched on the couch with his arms crossed. But there’s something off about him. He’s not his usual, annoyingly chipper self.

“Something wrong?” you ask, pausing mid-step.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.”

But he’s not fine. You can tell by the way he’s rubbing his temples, the way his nose is slightly red, the way his voice has an edge of hoarseness to it.

“Woonhak…” you say slowly, setting the plates down and walking over to him. “Are you sick?”

“Nope,” he says too quickly, sinking deeper into the couch. “Definitely not.”

“Liar,” you accuse, crossing your arms.

He groans, tilting his head back. “Okay, maybe. Just a little. But it’s no big deal.”

You stare at him, realization dawning. “Oh my God. You caught it, didn’t you?”

“Caught what?”

“The plague I had! I told you this would happen!”

“Stop calling it the plague,” he grumbles, though his stuffy nose makes it sound more like plaaag.

You can’t help it—you laugh. You laugh so hard that tears prick at your eyes. Because of course this would happen. This is how things always go with you and Woonhak: you get sick, he shows up to save the day, and now here he is, on the verge of a cold.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” he says, shooting you a half-hearted glare.

“A little,” you admit, biting your lip to stifle more laughter.

“Great. I take care of you, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come over!”

He huffs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he flops down dramatically, pulling the blanket over his head like some kind of defeated soldier.

“Guess I’m dying now,” he says, voice muffled.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you tease, yanking the blanket off his face.

“Dramatic?” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “You were literally moaning about the ‘injustice of life’ two days ago.”

“Fine, you’ve got a point,” you concede, sitting next to him. “But don’t worry. I’ve had practice now. I’ll take care of you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You? Taking care of me? Should I be scared?”

You swat his arm. “Hey, I make great soup.”

He smirks. “Debatable.”

But despite his teasing, you notice the corners of his mouth tug upward in a small smile.

By the next morning, it’s official: Woonhak is down for the count. Fever, runny nose, the whole package. And true to your word, you step up. You make him soup (yes, real soup, not the instant stuff), keep his water glass full, and even let him hog the TV remote.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” he admits one evening, bundled up on the couch with a box of tissues at his side.

“See? Told you,” you say smugly. “And if you’re nice, I might even make cookies.”

“Homemade?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck.”

He laughs, and it’s a little wheezy, but it’s the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel warm.

As the days pass, you settle into a rhythm. You and Woonhak bicker over what to watch, argue about the proper way to steep tea, and inevitably end up laughing until your stomachs hurt.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, you realize something: you wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not the sickness, not the chaos, not even the burnt cookies. Because as long as Woonhak’s there, it feels like home.

By the time he starts feeling better, you’re already planning your revenge.

“Next year,” you say as you hand him his coat at the door, “you’re banned from playing nurse.”

He grins, leaning against the doorframe. “Sure you won’t need me?”

“Oh, I’ll need you,” you admit. “But not if it means getting sick all over again.”

“We’ll see,” he says, shooting you a wink as he steps outside.

And as he walks down the snowy path, you can’t help but smile. Because deep down, you know the truth: next Christmas, he’ll be back. And so will you.

You had been keeping close contact with Kamden, giving him secret ways into the palace and aiding him with weapons or inside info. Having the crown princess on his side gave him an upper hand no one else was aware of. Not even the other members of his group knew of your involvement. You had sworn him to secrecy long ago for your own safety. Kamden was a man of his word, and he would always stay unfeignedly loyal to you.

It was as the clock struck one that Kamden heard the turn of a lock and the rusty door to the jail cells rattling open. He stood up, licking his dry lips and preparing himself for anything. He had overheard mention of torture tactics the king had recently imposed from some of the guards the night before. And, as one of the most wanted in the kingdom, he was sure he would be one of the first to discover what tactics they used. 

Though, he sincerely hoped he would somehow be able to avoid it. He had already sustained injuries from fighting that went untreated, and more would only weaken his condition. He needed to stay as strong as possible if he had any hope of his mission succeeding. You had put your faith in him. He wouldn’t let you down. 

The footsteps that followed the opening of the door were soft and tentative. Kamden furrowed his brow, trying to see along the dark corridor through the small square opening on his cell used for food. There was no way a guard would make so little sound. It had to be someone else. Sure enough, a few steps later, Kamden could see that it was you trodding carefully down the hall, key and bottle in hand. 

When you reached his cell, you held a finger to your lips, shushing him from saying anything. He watched you carefully as you slid the key into the lock and turned, opening the cell up. Once the door opened, the torchlight from the hallway shined over you both, and he could see you much more clearly. Dressed in delicately crafted red silk, elegant hands holding the rusted keys, perfectly placed hair and jewelry framing your face. You looked beautiful as always, and Kamden felt a pang of shame in his chest at failing days ago. He put you through more trouble than he had meant to.

“I’ve given the guards some of the strongest wine. They will be out for the next hour. Let’s get you out of here while we have the chance,” you whispered, a tentative smile on your face and an unmistakable glimmer of excitement hidden in your eyes. No matter the setback, you were always ready to get Kamden back on his feet. For a princess, you were surely fearless. 

From an early age you had recognized your father’s tyranny and hoped to put an end to it. But overthrowing the throne was easier said than done, and you would never be accepted as queen if you committed outright treason. Kamden was your secret weapon, able to execute a more rewarding plan of attack. If everything went as you hoped, by the next full moon, Kamden would be the one to sit on the throne, and you by his side.

But you still had a long way to go to get there, and there were many little steps to attend to before the grand finale. In the present moment, you took his roughened hand— littered with cuts and bruises— in your soft one, and led him carefully to the safety and privacy of your bed chambers. His wounds from the fight with the guards worried you. Normally, you would send him back to his hideout immediately, but you knew their medical supplies were running low. For your own peace of mind, you ran the risk of keeping him beside you for a bit longer. Tending to his injuries was the least you could do to thank him for every risk he was taking for you.

You first gave him a change of clothes, as his old ones were torn in multiple spots. You had him sit on the side of your bed while you got out supplies. He was uncharacteristically silent through it all, and you wondered what was on his mind. 

“I hope your stint in the cells wasn’t too miserable. Let us both hope everything goes accordingly next time. We can’t risk another setback,” you muttered, tearing a piece of fabric to wrap some of his cuts with.

“What about the rest of your team? Have Siyun and Jiho received the supplies I sent? What about little Seungmo?” you smiled as you asked. Although none of the team knew of your involvement, you had garnered quite a lot of affection for them. Especially the younger ones. You saw potential in them— the warrior’s spark present in their eyes. Ambition for change in their every move. “Kamden? You haven’t said anything.”

The rogue hesitated, “I am nervous to make too much noise while confined behind these walls. You never know who could be listening,” he whispered. You nodded, making your way over to him again. 

“My chambers are far away from the great hall. Everyone is partying and inebriated. We are in no danger— I bought us at least half an hour,” you told him, cupping his cheek. His glance faltered, finding its way to the floor with a withering spirit. 

“I trust you. I just don’t want to put you in more danger. You’ve already done more than I could have ever asked of you,” he said quietly.

“And I will continue to do more. You need my help as much as I need yours. We are equal, Kamden. Don’t act any different just because I am royalty,” you said earnestly, brushing your thumb across one of the small cuts marring his perfect face.

“If you get hurt in the process of us succeeding, the entire nation will know. People will care. But if I—”

“If you get hurt, I will care. And I do care. You are injured right now. Let me at least patch you up before you leave. I may not see you again until the full moon…” your reprove started strong, but your voice faltered towards the end. The risks of your mission flashing through your mind once again. The chances of disaster happening, of it all going wrong, of Kamden not making it. You shook your head, clearing the thoughts from your mind. With the limited time you had, you had to stay focused on the task at hand. Worrying about the risks would only distract you further. 

You knelt in front of Kamden, inspecting the worst of his injuries on his stomach and arms. He was silent, letting you clean and wrap them up how you liked. Your words clouded in his head as you worked. He knew there was something between you two. Affection, chemistry, teamwork— love, perhaps. He had never stopped to consider how much you were doing for him, nor how his focus had turned more towards you as well. Almost as if the mission was an afterthought. Keeping each other safe took the forefront in moments like these.

Strangely, Kamden found it in himself to smile at the thought. You had lit a small candle of hope inside him from the moment he first met you, and it was still burning steadily every time he saw you. There was no doing this by himself— you would be there by his side every step of the way. Through all the risks and dangers, you were ready to face it together. 

“I’m gonna look like a troll next to you. Or a goblin. No wonder Kamden has no idea how you’re still friends with me,” Mackiah said, studying you in the mirror, arms crossed. You blushed. Your best friend was usually flirty with you, and you had even kissed once before. However, your relationship still wasn’t defined. You were sure he liked you, and there was no way there was any other girl he was seeing. The unlabelled situation didn’t bother you, though. 

“I can change if you want,” you offered, setting down your makeup.

“No. You look stunning, please don’t change,” Mackiah fumbled over his words, perhaps even more flustered over your appearance than you were over his words. “I’ll just have to figure out how to match this…” 

You laughed, “Come on, Kiah, you look good all the time. We’re just getting lunch.” 

“But you’re wearing a really pretty dress, and you look really good in it, so I should at least brush my hair,” he clarified, making his way to the bathroom to fix his appearance while you were still laughing. You were just finishing your makeup when he came back out, now with styled hair, blue washed jeans, and a graphic tee. 

“How do I look? Matching up to you now?” he asked. 

“You looked fine before,” you muttered, concentrating on applying your lip tint before you looked at his outfit. Your eyes traveled over him, head to toe, before you smiled. “Very handsome. I don’t know what you were worried about.”

“Perhaps that some guy will see how pretty you are while we’re out and steal you from me. I need to fight them off,” he joked, fake sparring. You laughed. 

“No one is gonna steal me from you, come on.” You stood up, walking towards the door where Mackiah was waiting for you. As you passed him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No one else gets free kisses from me for compliments either,” you said gleefully, watching his ears tint pink. 

Maybe you were toeing the line of best friends too much, but when it was Mackiah, you didn’t care. It was only a matter of time before you were his girlfriend. 

You remember Riwoo mentioning a couple dance routine a few months ago. He had suggested the two of you try it together, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he showed you the video. But you’d laughed it off, making some excuse about having two left feet, and the moment passed. You could still see the disappointment in his eyes, though he never mentioned it again.

So, here you are, standing in the middle of a dance studio, feeling completely out of place.

“You must be here for the lessons,” a voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn and see a man in his late thirties, a warm smile on his face. “I’m Jihoon, your instructor.”

You nod, swallowing nervously. “Yeah, that’s me. I, uh, need to learn a dance routine. Fast.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How fast are we talking?”

You hesitate. “Riwoo’s birthday is in two weeks. I want to surprise him.”

Jihoon chuckles softly, stepping closer. “That’s ambitious. Do you have any experience with dancing?”

“Not… really,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “Actually, I’m pretty terrible at it. I don’t pick things up easily.”

“Two weeks, huh?” Jihoon sighs but doesn’t lose his smile. “Alright. Tell me about the routine.”

You explain it as best you can, describing the video Riwoo had shown you, and Jihoon listens carefully. When you’re done, he nods and stretches his arms.

“Okay, let’s get started.”

The first lesson goes about as well as you expected. Which is to say, terribly.

“Step forward with your right foot—no, your *other* right foot,” Jihoon says, barely hiding his amusement.

You groan, stumbling over yourself again. “I told you I was bad at this.”

“You’re not bad, you’re learning,” he corrects. “It’s different. Trust me, everyone struggles at first.”

But it doesn’t feel like just struggling. It feels like you’re never going to get it right. You keep stepping in the wrong direction, tripping over your own feet, and every time Jihoon goes over the moves, your mind blanks out halfway through.

After the first hour, you’re exhausted. Jihoon hands you a bottle of water, and you take it gratefully, collapsing onto a bench.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you mutter, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He sits beside you, his expression patient. “It’s normal to feel that way in the beginning. Dancing is hard, but it’s not impossible. You just have to push through the frustration.”

You glance at him, unsure. “What if I mess it up? I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of Riwoo.”

“Then you keep practicing until you don’t mess up,” he says simply. “The fact that you’re doing this at all means a lot. Riwoo’s going to love it, whether you get every step right or not.”

You nod, trying to let his words sink in. But as you leave the studio that day, all you can think about is how much more you have to learn. Two weeks feels impossibly short.

The second lesson doesn’t go much better.

Jihoon watches as you stumble through the moves, his brow furrowing. “Okay, stop for a second.”

You stop, panting, feeling the sweat dripping down your face. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Your timing’s off. You’re anticipating the next step before you’ve finished the first one. Relax. Focus on one movement at a time.”

Easier said than done. You try again, concentrating hard on each step, but by the end of the routine, you’ve still missed half of them.

You slump against the wall, frustrated. “I’m never going to get this right.”

Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you carefully. “You’re overthinking it. Dancing isn’t just about following steps—it’s about feeling the rhythm. Don’t let your head get in the way.”

“I can’t help it,” you snap, more at yourself than at him. “I don’t want to mess this up for him.”

He softens, understanding in his eyes. “You’re not going to. You’re already putting in more effort than most people would. That says a lot.”

You don’t answer, but his words stay with you, lingering in your mind as you drive home. You’re trying to do something special for Riwoo. That’s what matters, right?

By the time you hit your tenth lesson, you’ve at least gotten three steps out of seven. It’s not great progress, but it’s something. You’ve memorized the first half of the routine, though it’s still clumsy and awkward when you try to string the steps together.

Jihoon has been patient through all of it, offering encouragement even when you feel like quitting. Today, however, you’ve hit a wall.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you blurt out, dropping your arms to your sides. “I’m exhausted, and it’s still not coming together.”

Jihoon looks at you, his expression unreadable. You’re sure he’s about to tell you to push through, to keep going even though you feel like collapsing on the floor.

Instead, he says, “Take five.”

You blink, surprised. “What?”

“Take a break,” he repeats. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. Relax for a bit.”

Relief washes over you, and you don’t argue. You sit down, stretching out your legs and taking deep breaths. Jihoon walks over to the stereo, switching off the music.

“I know this feels impossible right now,” he says after a moment. “But you’ve made progress. More than you think.”

You shake your head, not convinced. “I’ve barely learned half of it.”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “But you’ve learned something. You didn’t give up after the first day, did you?”

“No, but—”

“Then that’s progress,” he interrupts gently. “You’re not going to master the whole routine in two weeks. That was never realistic. But you’re showing up, and you’re trying. That counts.”

You stare at the floor, feeling the weight of exhaustion and doubt pressing down on you. “I just want it to be perfect for Riwoo.”

Jihoon crouches down in front of you, meeting your eyes. “Riwoo doesn’t care about perfect. He cares about you. And he’s going to love this because it’s coming from you.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for the first time in days, you feel a spark of hope. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Riwoo won’t care if you don’t get every step right.

“Take a few more minutes,” Jihoon says, standing up again. “Then we’ll go over the first half one more time.”

You nod, letting yourself breathe. You’re tired, but you’re not giving up. Not yet.

On the night of Riwoo’s birthday, you’re nervous. No, more than nervous—you’re terrified.

You stand outside his apartment, shifting from foot to foot, your hands shaking. The small speaker in your bag feels heavier than it should, and you wonder if this was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just said “Happy Birthday” like a normal person.

But it’s too late now. You’ve come this far, and there’s no turning back.

You knock on the door, and a few seconds later, Riwoo opens it, his face lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey!” he greets you with that easy smile that always makes your heart race. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Yeah, I, uh, wanted to surprise you,” you mumble, stepping inside.

He looks around as if expecting to see something else, like a wrapped gift or a cake. “Surprise? What is it?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I… I learned something for you.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Learned something? What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, you pull the speaker out of your bag and set it on the floor. You find the song you’ve been practicing to and press play. The familiar beat fills the room, and you turn to face him.

“I—remember that dance you showed me a while back?” you say, barely meeting his eyes. “The one I said I couldn’t do? Well, I—um, I’ve been learning it. For your birthday.”

Riwoo’s eyes widen, his mouth parting in surprise. “Wait, you’re serious?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I’m not good at it, but… I wanted to try. For you.”

For a moment, he’s speechless, and you’re sure this was a terrible idea. But then, he smiles—the kind of smile that reaches his eyes—and suddenly, all the nerves and doubt don’t seem to matter.

“You did all that for me?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” you mutter, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t want to just say ‘Happy Birthday.’”

His eyes are shining as he steps closer. “Can I see it?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, but you nod. You position yourself, take a deep breath, and begin.

The first few steps go smoothly. You’ve practiced them enough that your body moves on instinct, even if you still feel awkward. But as the routine continues, you fumble—just like you knew you would. Your feet get tangled, you miss a turn, and by the time you hit the fifth step, you’re completely out of sync with the music.

But you don’t stop. You keep going, pushing through the mistakes, because this isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing Riwoo how much you care.

When the song ends, you’re breathless and flushed, waiting for his reaction. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like you’ve just laid your heart on the line.

Riwoo steps forward, and before you can say anything, he pulls you into a tight hug.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers into your ear. “That was the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

You exhale, tension leaving your body in a rush of relief. “Even though I messed up?”

“Especially because you messed up,” he says with a laugh, pulling back to look at you. “You didn’t have to do all that for me, but you did. That means more than you know.”

You smile, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. Maybe Jihoon was right. Riwoo doesn’t care about perfect. He cares about you.

And in the end, that’s all that matters.

"Of course," you whisper to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips. You sit up and rub your eyes, already thinking of ways to spoil him.

But then you notice something: the unmistakable sound of clattering dishes coming from the kitchen. You get out of bed quickly, padding down the hallway in your pajamas. The scent of bacon wafts toward you, and as you turn the corner, you find Leehan standing at the stove, cooking breakfast.

"Leehan?" you ask, a bit incredulous. "What are you doing?"

He turns to you with a warm smile, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. "Morning! I'm just making breakfast. Thought I'd surprise you and the girls."

You walk closer, arms crossed, and give him a playful glare. "But it's your birthday! You shouldn't be the one cooking."

He shrugs, casual and calm as always. "I wanted to. It's no big deal. You go sit with the girls. I've got this."

You huff in protest, but he's already back to focusing on the food. "Leehan," you press, moving to his side. "Seriously, let me take over. I want to do something for you today. You deserve to relax."

He shakes his head, shooting you a quick smile. "I'm fine, really. I like doing this. Go sit down; spend some time with the kids."

You roll your eyes but don't push it further. There's something endearing about how he never lets you fuss over him, even on his birthday. "Fine," you grumble, throwing your hands up. "But you're going to let me spoil you later."

"We'll see," he replies with a chuckle.

You shake your head, making your way to the living room where your two little girls are already awake and playing with their toys on the floor. They light up when they see you.

"Mommy!" your oldest, Mina, calls out, abandoning her dolls to rush over to you. Her twin sister, Minji, follows close behind.

"Morning, sweethearts," you say, kneeling down to hug them both. "Did you say good morning to Daddy?"

Mina nods enthusiastically. "He's making pancakes!"

"I know, but it's Daddy's birthday. Don't you think Mommy should be the one cooking?"

They both shake their heads in unison, giggling.

"Daddy's pancakes are the best," Mina declares confidently.

You laugh and ruffle her hair. "Well, you're not wrong there."

A few minutes later, Leehan calls out from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready!"

You usher the girls to the table, where Leehan has laid out plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit. It looks amazing, as always.

You sit down next to Mina while Minji climbs into the seat across from you. "Thanks, babe," you say, appreciating the spread.

"No problem," Leehan says, taking a seat. "Dig in."

The four of you start eating, the chatter between bites filling the room with warmth. The girls are old enough to feed themselves, though you keep an eye on them just in case. You take a moment to appreciate the scene: your little family sitting together, enjoying a simple breakfast. It feels... perfect.

After a while, you glance over at Leehan and ask, "So, birthday boy, what do you want to do today?"

He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee before answering. "I was thinking we could have a family day. I don't get much time with you all because of work, and I just want to relax with my girls today."

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile softly. "That sounds perfect."

Mina, always quick with suggestions, perks up. "We should watch a movie!"

Minji nods eagerly. "Yeah, a movie!"

You laugh, knowing exactly what's coming. "I bet I can guess which movie."

Mina grins, bouncing in her seat. "Frozen!"

Of course. You've seen it a million times, but you can't deny how much the girls love it.

"Well, it is Daddy's birthday," you remind them. "Maybe we should let him pick?"

But Leehan shakes his head, smiling. "Frozen sounds good to me."

The girls cheer in unison, and you chuckle, knowing you're in for yet another viewing of the animated classic. "Alright, Frozen it is."

Once everyone finishes eating, you all head to the living room. Mina and Minji race ahead, practically launching themselves onto the couch, while you and Leehan follow more slowly, hand in hand.

"I'm still going to do something for you today," you insist as you settle next to him on the couch.

He squeezes your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Just being with you all is enough."

The movie starts, and before long, the familiar songs and scenes fill the room. You glance over at the girls, both of them completely captivated, and then at Leehan, who seems just as content watching them as the movie itself.

It doesn't take long for the soothing sounds of the movie to lull you into a doze. The comfort of the moment, the warmth of your family, it all pulls you under.

When you wake up, you blink groggily and realize the room is much quieter than it should be. Sitting up, you notice that the couch is empty. Mina, Minji, and Leehan are nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd they go?" you mumble to yourself, standing up and stretching. You wander through the house, checking the kitchen, the hallway, and finally making your way to the girls' room.

When you peek inside, the sight before you makes your heart melt. There, in the middle of the room, is Leehan, sitting on the floor with Mina and Minji. They've pulled out their dress-up clothes, and Leehan is fully participating in the game. He's wearing a plastic crown, a cape made of a pink blanket, and the girls are twirling around him in princess dresses.

You stifle a laugh, watching from the doorway as Mina adjusts the crown on Leehan's head.

"You're the prince, Daddy!" she declares proudly.

"And we're the princesses!" Minji adds, spinning in her gown.

Leehan looks at them both with pure adoration in his eyes. "Well, if I'm the prince, I guess I have to protect the princesses, right?"

Mina nods seriously. "Yes, from dragons!"

Leehan puts on a mock-serious face. "Dragons? Oh no! Where are they?"

The girls giggle, running around the room as if they're being chased by invisible dragons, while Leehan pretends to battle them off with a toy sword.

You lean against the doorframe, watching the three of them with a mix of amusement and affection. This is exactly why you love him so much. Even on his birthday, he's putting the girls first, making their day as magical as possible.

After a few more minutes of watching the playful scene unfold, you finally step into the room. "And what's going on in here?" you ask, grinning.

Minji runs over to you, grabbing your hand. "Mommy! Daddy's the prince, and we're playing princesses!"

You raise an eyebrow at Leehan, who just shrugs, still wearing the ridiculous crown. "I couldn't say no."

You laugh, kneeling down to join them. "Well, it looks like you're doing a great job as prince."

He grins, reaching out to pull you into the game. "Care to join us, my lady?"

You roll your eyes but play along, taking his hand. "Of course, your highness."

The rest of the day is spent in pure joy—playing, laughing, and enjoying the kind of simple, precious moments that make everything worth it.

Later, after the girls have been tucked into bed, you and Leehan sit together on the couch, exhausted but content. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Today was perfect," you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

He kisses the top of your head softly. "It was, wasn't it?"

You smile to yourself, feeling incredibly lucky to have this little family, to have him. "Happy birthday, baby."

He squeezes your hand gently. "Thank you. For everything."

And in that quiet moment, as the house falls into peaceful silence, you realize that this is exactly how birthdays should be—filled with love, laughter, and the people who matter most.