Saw your burning black fic. The one where reader tried to cook for yu.
What if something similar but this time reader CAN cook (still a picky eater), and like calls his mom or sisters to ask for his favorite childhood food so she can make it for him even if he can make it himself. And like it makes him kinda emotional and stuff
🫧 themes ➜ comfort, established relationship, homesickness, family, cooking together, hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic romance
@hyunjinights @gongyuz @anyapsesh @helawho @fleurenjun @flustaered17 @faayzeswords @pachu-verse-09
The last few weeks had been exhausting for Yu.
Between promotions, interviews, rehearsals, flights, and concerts, it felt like he was living out of a suitcase more than your shared apartment. You understood it was part of the job but every FaceTime call ended the same way. His smile was a little smaller than the day before, his voice a little quieter, and no matter how excited he was to tell you about the crowds or the performances, there was always one sentence that found its way into the conversation.
So when your phone lit up that afternoon with a message from him, you were already smiling before you even opened it.
🐈⬛: Finally heading back. I’ll be home in a few hours.
🐈⬛: Can’t wait to see you. 🤍
You stared at the screen for a second before immediately standing up from the couch.
“I know exactly what to do.”
The first person you thought to call was his sister. You’d met her a handful of times over the years holidays, birthdays, and the occasional family dinner but you’d never actually exchanged numbers.
After a quick search through Instagram and a very awkward voice message asking if she could call you when she had a minute, your phone rang less than ten minutes later.
“Hey! Is everything okay? You scared me a little.”
You laughed softly. “Everything’s fine, I promise. I just… need your help.”
“I want to surprise Yu tonight.”
Her voice immediately brightened.
“I wanted to make his favorite meal from when he was little.”
There was a pause on the other end before she laughed.
“Oh no… I actually can’t remember the recipe.”
“I remember eating it!” she defended herself. “Mom always made it, but I never learned how.”
She paused for another second.
A moment later your phone buzzed with a new contact.
When his mother answered, she recognized your voice almost instantly.
“My dear! It’s been too long.”
“It has sorry to be a bother.”
“Nonsense.” You watched could hear her smile on the phone. “Now tell me, what has my son done?”
“I just…” You glanced down at the grocery list you’d hurriedly scribbled onto the back of an old receipt. “I wanted to surprise him.”
There was a brief silence.
“You know how busy promotions have been.”
“And every time we’ve talked recently…” you continued quietly, “…he keeps saying he misses home.”
The other end of the phone grew quiet again.
You imagined her standing in her own kitchen, thinking about the little boy she’d watched grow into the man you loved.
“I know I can’t take him back home,” you said with a small laugh, “but I thought… maybe I could bring home to him.”
When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably softer.
“…You’re a very thoughtful girl.”
Heat crept onto your cheeks.
“I just want him to rest.”
You switched to FaceTime and for the next two hours, your phone never left the kitchen counter.
His mom walked you through every step as if she were standing beside you.
You reached for the knife.
“Not too thin,” she corrected gently.
You looked down at your cutting board.
“…These are too thin, aren’t they?”
A laugh echoed through the speaker.
As the vegetables slowly softened in the pot, the apartment filled with a warm, comforting aroma.
“It already smells good,” you admitted even though you weren’t fond of the dish.
“Just wait,” she chuckled. “The best part hasn’t happened yet.”
The two of you talked about far more than cooking.
She told you stories about Yu as a little boy.
How he’d insist on wearing rain boots even when the forecast promised sunshine.
How he refused to eat vegetables unless she hid them in curry.
How he’d always run straight into the kitchen after school, announcing that he was starving before he’d even taken his shoes off.
You found yourself laughing so hard you nearly dropped the wooden spoon.
She laughed along with you.
“I’d hear the front door open and then…”
Her voice changed into a dramatically deep imitation.
“He still sounds exactly like that!”
Somewhere between chopping vegetables, stirring the pot, and measuring spices…
You realized you weren’t just learning a recipe.
You were learning little pieces of the boy Yu used to be.
Every ingredient seemed to come with another memory.
Every step reminded his mom of another story.
“He used to steal pieces of potato while I was cooking,” she said.
“He thought I never noticed.”
“Oh, of course I noticed.”
“He’d smile with his mouth full and think that somehow made him innocent.”
The two of you laughed together.
Eventually, his mom grew quiet.
“I’ve never worried much about Yu.”
You paused your stirring.
“He’s always been the kind of person who takes care of everyone else before himself.”
“I wonder who’s taking care of him.”
Your eyes drifted toward the simmering pot.
“I think he’s going to remember this for a very long time.”
You swallowed around the lump beginning to form in your throat.
Just as you were adding the final garnish, your phone buzzed against the counter.
You looked at the message.
Then back at the kitchen.
The sink was overflowing with dishes.
Your apron had somehow collected splatters of curry from nearly every angle imaginable.
A streak of flour decorated one sleeve, though you couldn’t remember using flour at all.
You caught your reflection in the microwave.
Hair escaping your messy bun.
A tiny smudge of curry on your cheek.
Laughing to yourself, you quickly thanked his mom one last time.
“I seriously couldn’t have done this without you.”
“My dear…you didn’t need me nearly as much as you think.”
“I only told you how to make dinner. The reason it’ll taste like home is because of the person who made it.”
“Thank you for loving my son.”
The call ended with bye’s and promises to visit.
You stood in the quiet kitchen for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand before looking over at the table you’d spent the afternoon preparing.
A homecoming waiting just beyond the front door.
And somewhere ten minutes away…
The person you’d made it all for was finally coming home.
You took one slow look around the kitchen before letting out a dramatic sigh.
It looked like a tornado had come through.
Mixing bowls were stacked in the sink, vegetable peels covered one corner of the counter, measuring spoons had somehow ended up on the windowsill, and you weren’t entirely sure how flour had found its way onto the top of the refrigerator.
The curry simmered gently on the stove, filling every room of the apartment with its rich, comforting aroma. Beside it sat freshly steamed rice, a bowl of miso soup, neatly arranged side dishes, and small plates of pickled vegetables. You’d even taken the extra time to cut fresh fruit and chill his favorite drink.
His mom had laughed when you insisted on making everything.
“He’ll never finish all that.”
“I know,” you’d replied. “But if I’m doing it… I might as well do it right.”
You carefully carried each dish to the dining table.
The more plates you set down…
The more ridiculous it looked.
“There is no way two people are eating all of this.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything away.
If home had ever looked like anything in your mind…
After adjusting the chopsticks for what felt like the fifth time, you hurried back toward your bedroom.
The apron came off first.
It had also somehow managed to collect curry, flour, water, and what you were almost certain was soy sauce.
You tossed it into the laundry basket before changing into one of Yu’s oversized hoodies—the one he’d left behind before leaving for tour.
It still smelled faintly like his laundry detergent.
You smiled without even realizing it.
Just as you were fixing the loose strands of hair escaping your bun…
You practically sprinted toward the front door before stopping yourself halfway down the hall.
“You’ve spent all day making this.”
Then casually walked the rest of the way.
The sound of keys jingling echoed from the other side of the door.
The handle slowly turned.
The apartment door swung open.
His voice disappeared almost instantly.
He hadn’t even looked up yet.
Standing in the entryway, shoes still on, duffel bag hanging from one shoulder…
He frowned ever so slightly.
The sweetness of caramelized onions.
Freshly cooked vegetables.
The scent wrapped around him so gently that for one impossible second…
The apartment disappeared.
Instead, he was a little boy again.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
His backpack felt twice as heavy after walking home from school.
His shoes squeaked against the wooden floor as he kicked them off by the front door.
His mother’s voice floated from the kitchen.
“Wash your hands! Dinner’s almost ready!”
He remembered dropping his backpack wherever it landed because he couldn’t wait another second.
He remembered running toward the kitchen.
He remembered the warmth.
The feeling that no matter how bad school had been…
Everything was okay once he walked through that front door.
The memory washed over him so suddenly that his chest tightened.
The apartment came back into focus.
Slowly, he slipped off his shoes and set his bag down.
You were in the kitchen, carefully wiping the edge of one of the serving bowls with a towel when you heard soft footsteps behind you.
Turning around, your face immediately lit up.
His eyes drifted from your face…
You still had a tiny streak of curry across one cheek.
Your hair was falling out of the messy bun you’d thrown together hours ago.
The oversized hoodie sleeves covered half your hands.
It was obvious you’d spent the entire afternoon here.
His throat felt strangely tight.
His voice came out quieter than he’d expected.
You smiled sheepishly before rubbing the back of your neck.
“I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”
He looked back at the table.
Every single one of his favorite side dishes was there.
Even the little things most people forgot about.
His eyebrows slowly lifted.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He walked closer to the table, his eyes lingering over each dish.
“The way the vegetables are cut…”
A soft chuckle escaped him.
He looked over his shoulder.
“You called my sister first.”
“And she gave you Mom’s number.”
“Okay inspector gadget you want to investigate or admire my hard work.”
He laughed, shaking his head.
“I knew it. I’ve eaten this meal my whole life.”
“The only person who knows every little detail…”
“I wanted to get it right.”
Yu stared at you for a long moment.
There was something so incredibly endearing about the fact that you hadn’t tried to impress him by pretending you knew everything.
Because making it right mattered more than making it look effortless.
That made it mean even more.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
The apartment was quiet except for the gentle bubbling of the curry still sitting on the stove. Yu stood at the end of the table, taking everything in as though he was afraid that if he looked away, it might disappear.
Then his eyes landed on one dish in particular.
You nodded, suddenly feeling a little shy under his gaze.
His brows furrowed just slightly.
“You don’t even like curry.”
You scrunched up your nose.
A small smile spread across his face.
“And there are onions… mushrooms… and half the vegetables you usually pick out.”
You laughed, looking down at the table.
He walked a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours.
The question was so simple.
You looked back at him as if the answer was obvious.
“Because I wasn’t cooking for me.”
“I was cooking for you like how you do for everyone else.”
Yu’s lips parted, but nothing came out.
You continued setting another bowl onto the table, pretending not to notice how quiet he’d become.
“You’ve spent weeks eating convenience store food, takeout, and whatever catering happened to be backstage. Every time we’d call, you’d tell me how much you missed your mom’s cooking.”
“I couldn’t bring you home…so I thought I’d bring a little bit of home here.”
When you finally looked back up, Yu was already looking at you.
Not because he was trying to cry.
Because the tears had simply appeared before he’d realized it.
He let out a shaky laugh, quickly turning his face away as he rubbed beneath one eye.
Another laugh escaped him.
He looked back at the table again.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever done something like this for me before.”
Without thinking, you walked over until you were standing right in front of him.
“You deserve to be taken care of too.”
The sentence he’d needed to hear.
The tears he had been holding back finally slipped free, and before you could say another word, he wrapped both arms around you.
He buried his face against your shoulder with a quiet sigh, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, every ounce of tension seemed to leave his body.
You smiled to yourself, gently rubbing slow circles across his back.
“You’ve been carrying a lot lately.”
“You don’t always have to.”
His grip tightened just a little.
The confession was barely louder than a whisper.
“I kept telling myself I could push through it.”
“I didn’t even realize how much I missed home until I walked through the door.”
You rested your cheek lightly against his hair.
“I’m glad you’re home now.”
The two of you stayed like that for another minute, neither of you in any rush to let go.
Eventually, Yu let out a quiet laugh before pulling back, a little embarrassed as he wiped at his face.
You reached up and brushed away the tear he had missed.
“I probably look ridiculous.”
“You look like someone who’s finally taking a breath.”
“You always know what to say.”
You gently nudged his shoulder.
You pointed toward the table.
“I spent three hours making all of this.”
“You better eat before it gets cold.”
He laughed and looked back at the overflowing table.
“I don’t think even seven members could finish all of this.”
“That means you’ll have leftovers tomorrow.”
Yu looked around the apartment one more time.
The smell of dinner filling every room.
You standing in front of him, still with a tiny streak of curry on your cheek that you somehow hadn’t noticed.
It didn’t matter that they weren’t in his childhood home.
It didn’t matter that his mom wasn’t the one standing in the kitchen.
You had managed to recreate the feeling he’d missed most.
But the feeling of walking through the front door and knowing someone had been waiting for you to come home.
Dinner somehow tasted even better than it smelled.
Maybe it was because every recipe had been carefully explained over the phone.
Maybe it was because you’d spent the afternoon making sure every little detail was just right.
Food simply tasted different when it was made with love.
Yu couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten this slowly.
Normally, he’d finish meals in record time before rushing off to another schedule. Tonight, though, he lingered over every bite, occasionally closing his eyes as if he were trying to memorize the taste.
You rested your chin in your hand, smiling from across the table.
“You’ve barely said anything.”
“Obviously I can see that.”
He looked down at his bowl before smiling to himself.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed this.”
For a while, conversation came easily.
You told him about accidentally slicing the onions too thin.
You told him how his mom had caught you before she’d even seen them.
Then you shared the story about little Yu stealing potatoes from the pot before dinner.
His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth.
“And how you’d yell ‘Mom! Is dinner ready?’ before taking your shoes off.”
He covered his face with one hand.
“I can’t believe she betrayed me like this.”
“I think they’re adorable stories.”
“I’ve created a monster.”
Eventually, both of you leaned back in your chairs, completely full.
You looked at the mountain of leftovers still covering the table.
“I definitely overestimated how much we could eat.”
“I was trying to believe in us.”
He laughed again, the sound bright and carefree in a way you hadn’t heard for weeks.
“I’ll take the leftovers tomorrow.”
“They’ll probably make everyone jealous.”
“Tell them to call their moms.”
As you stood to gather the dishes, Yu gently caught your wrist.
“You’ve been traveling all week.”
“And you’ve been cooking all afternoon.”
You opened your mouth to argue.
“We’re washing dishes together.”
“But you’re drying, can’t have them thinking I’m overworking you.”
“Deal.” He said with a smile.
The kitchen was filled with quiet conversation and occasional laughter.
You washed while Yu dried, the two of you bumping shoulders every now and then in the small space.
At one point, you flicked a tiny drop of water at him.
Without another word, he dipped his fingertips into the sink and flicked water back.
“Oh, so now we’re using my government name?”
Within seconds, the kitchen dissolved into laughter.
You managed to splash water all over the front of his shirt.
He retaliated immediately.
“Okay, okay!” you laughed, shielding yourself with a dish towel. “I surrender!”
“You should’ve thought about that before attacking me.”
“I was testing your reflexes.”
By the time the last dish had been put away, both of you were laughing so hard your stomachs hurt.
You disappeared into the freezer before returning with two glass dessert bowls.
You placed one in front of him with a proud smile.
A scoop of matcha ice cream sat on top of whipped cream and matcha jelly. Colorful dango rested neatly beside sweet red beans, and tucked into the cream was the cutest little chocolate bear.
He couldn’t help but smile.
“I almost don’t want to eat it.”
“I figured after making you eat your favorite dinner…”
“Why not have a nice treat after.”
He picked up his spoon, taking one careful bite before letting out the happiest little hum.
You smiled, finally taking a bite of your own.
The apartment grew quiet again.
Not because there was nothing left to say.
Because silence didn’t feel empty anymore.
Yu reached across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours.
His thumb gently brushed across the back of your hand.
“For listening when I didn’t even realize I was asking for help.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I came home expecting another ordinary night.”
He glanced around the apartment one last time.
The lingering scent of curry still hanging in the air.
“I think this is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.”
Your cheeks warmed as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
He leaned over the table just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.
Outside, the city carried on as it always did, cars passing beneath glowing streetlights and people hurrying to wherever they needed to be.
But inside your apartment, time seemed to slow.
The leftovers were packed away.
The dessert bowls sat empty.
And the warmth that had filled the apartment all evening lingered long after dinner was over.
For the first time in weeks, Yu didn’t feel homesick.
Because somewhere along the way…
Home had become wherever you were.
