Seventeen Reaction—You get caught in the rain.
Note from author: Guysssssss, am I getting in my reactions era 😏😏? Hope you will enjoy this one as it is my first one eva. Requests are open, and I am working on bettering my short writing style without yapping for ages.🩵🩵
Summary: OT13's reaction to the reader (girlfriend) getting caught in the rain on their way home to their apartment/shared apartment.
Warnings: Established relationship
He was waiting for you. Leaning against the wall like some annoyed Greek statue, arms crossed, expression unreadable, except for the very judgmental eyebrow arched just for you and his biceps threatening to rip through the tight gym t-shirt. Then his eyes landed on you: a soaked, dripping, shivering disaster.
“Hi…” you mumble, giving him a sheepish smile as rainwater slithers down your cheeks like tears from a bad rom-com.
His brow twitches. “What did I tell you this morning?”
You groan. “I know, Cheol. But I was late, and I forgot my umbrella, and I’m totally fi…”
Your foot squelches in a puddle, and the universe betrays you. But Cheol doesn’t. He catches you effortlessly, arms wrapping around your waist like he knew you'd pull this stunt.
“I’m picking you up from work the rest of the week. It’s going to rain,” he says, deadpan, hoisting you upright like this is all routine.
He silences you with a single finger to your lips, eyes softening even as his tone stays steel-solid.
“No buts. The rest of the week. Non-negotiable.”
“Well, well, well, look what the storm dragged in,” Jeonghan drawls, leaning against the apartment doorframe like a rom-com villain with too much time on his hands. He’s clearly proud of the line, probably practiced it in the mirror while waiting. His eyes roam over your dripping form, pausing on the way your soaked dress clings to your skin. “You bring the ocean with you, or are you just trying out mermaid cosplay?”
“Jeonghan, I swear to God, not today,” you bite out, brushing wet strands of hair out of your face. Mascara’s definitely running down your cheeks, you can feel it, and the cold from the airco is starting to bite. “Don’t test me.”
He snickers, completely unfazed. “I was expecting my gorgeous girlfriend, not a soggy sea creature that’s been personally victimized by the rainy season.”
“If I get sick, you’re going down with me,” you mutter, pushing past him, water squelching in your shoes. “Your immune system’s made of wet tissue paper anyway.”
Jeonghan follows you into the apartment with zero remorse, arms sliding around your drenched shoulders like this is the peak of romance. “Even better. We'll be sneezy, miserable, and in love, just how Shakespeare intended.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple, already plotting the matching pyjamas and shared blanket fort. “Quality time, baby. I suffer best with you.”
He’d been waiting patiently in your apartment for your long-awaited date night, just the two of you, flour-dusted hands, homemade pizza and pasta, maybe a bottle of cheap wine.
What he didn’t expect was for you to burst through the door like a storm yourself, completely soaked, rain dripping from your hair, your suit clinging to every inch of your body like a second skin.
“Oh my god, my love,” he shot up from the couch, startled, eyes wide as he rushed toward you. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you swim here?”
Your bag hit the floor with a wet splat as you sighed theatrically. “Apparently, yes. Forgot to check the weather, classic overconfident move.”
He frowned, already brushing your damp hair out of your face, his hands warm and grounding against your cold cheeks. “Baby, you should’ve called. I would’ve brought an umbrella, or a damn kayak.”
You leaned into his touch, a soft shiver running through you. “I need a hot shower before I get hypothermia.”
He smirked, eyes twinkling as his fingers found the first button of your soaked shirt. “Then let me assist… strictly for safety reasons, of course.”
You raised an eyebrow, but your lips curved. “Uh-huh. A true hero.”
“Always,” he said, already steering you toward the bathroom like a man on a mission. “Besides, nothing says date night like steamy showers and soggy socks.”
Dodging the curious stares in the Hybe hallways felt like sneaking through a top-secret mission, complete with the suspense and the adrenaline rush. But eventually, you made it to the practice room, breathless and damp from the storm outside. You pushed open the door, and there he was, Jun, sprawled on the floor like a lazy cat in the middle of a very unserious yoga session.
His eyes found yours, and he froze like a deer in headlights.
“Oh. My. God,” he gasped, his goofy grin vanishing as he scrambled upright like someone just pulled the fire alarm. “Babe, my love, are you okay?! Did you walk through a tsunami?!”
You gave him a tired smile, water practically dripping off your lashes. “Yeah… you know, just Seoul doing its monsoon cosplay again.”
He was at your side in an instant, cupping your face gently with cool palms, his thumbs brushing the raindrops from your cheeks. You leaned into his touch like it was home, because, honestly, it was.
And then, of course, he laughed.
You blinked at him, thoroughly offended.
“I’m sorry!” he said between bursts of laughter, trying, and failing, to cover his mouth. “It’s just… you look exactly like one of my cats after a bath. All big eyes and soggy judgment.”
“Yah, Jun!” You smacked his arm, scandalized, though the corners of your lips were already betraying you.
Still laughing, he reeled you in by the waist, his hand settling warm and easy on your soaked back. “Okay, okay. My poor drenched kitten. You cold? Want to steal one of my shirts and pretend it's an emergency cuddle situation?”
You were supposed to meet Hoshi at his parents’ place for your monthly dinner, but instead, you got ambushed by the rain. No umbrella, no warning. Now you were sulking in the apartment building’s entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering, refusing to walk in and greet his mom looking like a half-drowned alley cat.
It hadn’t even been five minutes of waiting and mentally composing your apology text for being late, when the front door creaked open. In stepped Hoshi, dripping head to toe, like he’d just swum upstream to get to you.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pushing off the wall and stomping toward him, water squishing in your shoes.
“Hey babe, did you mak…whoa.” He blinked, taking you in like you were the eighth wonder of the world. “Y/N, you’re… drenched.”
“You too, genius,” you said, swatting at the cascade dripping off his hoodie and helping him peel it off like a wet second skin. “Did you seriously run here?”
He grinned, sheepish but proud. “Kinda. Yeah. Thought if I moved fast enough, I could outrun the rain.”
“That’s not how weather works,” you deadpanned, but laughter bubbled up anyway. “Of course you did.”
“At least now I won’t be the only soggy disaster at dinner,” he smirked, lacing his cold fingers through yours and pressing a warm kiss to your equally frozen knuckles. “We’ll make a splash.”
“You mean we’ll be the splash,” you muttered, shaking your head.
The thing is, Wonwoo was dead asleep after practice, face down, drooling into the pillow, limbs splayed out like a crime scene chalk outline, when the door creaked open and a shadow, soaked and sinister, sloshed into his room like something out of a horror movie.
He shot upright with a dramatic gasp, hair sticking up in all directions. “What in the…?! Is that a ghost? Am I dying?!”
“The storm caught me,” you deadpanned, stepping into the soft halo of his bedside lamp like the soggy embodiment of chaos. Water dripped from your clothes onto the floor, forming a small betrayal of puddles at your feet.
Wonwoo clutched his chest with theatrical flair. “Jesus, babe! Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest? Do I look like I have the insurance for that?”
He scrambled toward you, arms open for a hug, all sleepiness forgotten, but you stopped him with a raised palm like a traffic cop on a mission.
“Do you not see this?” you said, gesturing to your drenched figure. “I am basically a walking natural disaster right now.”
Wonwoo blinked, then tilted his head slightly as a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. His eyes raked over you, shameless and amused. “I mean, yeah, you’re soaked… but also kind of hot.”
He stepped closer, fingers already finding your waistband, eyes glinting with faux concern. “How about I help you out of these disaster clothes before you catch a cold, or I catch feelings all over again?”
You burst into his studio like a chaotic summer storm, soaked from head to toe in your sundress, hair plastered to your cheeks, flip-flops squealing wet protests against the floor with every step. Woozi’s eyes widen in pure horror. Not at you. Never at you. At the dangerously expensive equipment sitting far too close to your dripping everything.
“Y/N!” he chokes out, half-standing from his chair like he’s just witnessed a crime scene. His gaze flickers to the mixer as if it just screamed in agony.
“I know, I know,” you say quickly, holding your hands up like a soggy fugitive. “I won’t go near the precious electronics. Breathe.”
But he’s already striding over, panic giving way to something softer the moment he sees your lips trembling and your arms hugging your torso.
“Babe, are you okay?” he asks, his voice low with concern as he pulls the studio blanket off the couch and drapes it around you, careful and tender. “You’re shivering. Why didn’t you call me?”
You give a small shrug, teeth clacking with the cold. “Didn’t wanna interrupt your genius-in-progress. You’re working on the album.”
He scoffs, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame and rubbing your arms through the fabric before leaning in to press a kiss to your damp forehead. It’s soft, grounding.
“I’m never too busy for you, dummy,” he murmurs, his words warm against your skin.
You crack a smile. “Says the man who looked ready to throw himself in front of a mixer to save it from me.”
His face goes blank for a second. “…No comment.”
You laugh, sniffling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The second you step inside, soaked head to toe like the final girl in a disaster flick, DK gasps like he's just seen the plot twist of the century. “OH NOOO, my baby!” he cries, flailing dramatically as if the rain personally betrayed him. He grabs a towel, then immediately tosses it aside to hug you first, ignoring the dripping mess.
“Yah, Dokyeom, I’m soaked.” You say, trying to squirm in his embrace.
“I don’t care if I get soaked too,” he grins, holding you tighter as water soaks into his shirt. “It’s worth it for the drama.”
You snort, but he’s already bundling you in the towel, muttering like a man on a mission. “Are you okay? Do we need to call your mom? The weatherman? God?”
Moments later, he’s gently drying your hair, humming some sweet nothings under his breath like you’re in a K-drama montage, then hands you warm snacks with a proud flourish. “Today, we battle rain with snacks and songs,” he declares.
You barely manage to unlock the door before Mingyu yanks it open and sweeps you inside like some overly dramatic bodyguard.
“What the hell, why didn’t you call me?!” he scolds, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for internal injuries. He’s already got a towel in one hand, helping your get your jacket off with the other, and a scowl on his face that somehow makes him look even more moody. He crouches to dry your soaked feet, muttering under his breath, “You’ll get sick. Your health is not a joke, babe. Do I need to tattoo that on your forehead?”
You try to argue, but he silences you with a look and a steaming mug of tea. Within minutes, he’s thrown your wet clothes in the wash, lit a candle that smells like pine and something expensive, and pulled you into his lap like you're made of glass. “Sit. Blanket. No negotiations.”
His arms wrap around you tightly as he grumbles, “This is exactly why I need to build you an umbrella drone. Or at least install a weather-tracking chip in your jacket.” You laugh, and he finally softens, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“Can I say a word now or should I mourn the rain again?” You say pushing his chest jokingly.
“Next time, call me. Or I swear I’ll start carrying you to work in a bubble.”
Minghao looks up from his sketchpad, long fingers still curled around a steaming mug of tea, just as you burst in, dripping, breathless, and looking like a stray cat caught in a typhoon. His eyebrow arches, lips twitching at the corners. “You walked in that?” he asks, voice laced with disbelief and the barest hint of a laugh.
“I missed the forecast,” you mumble, hugging yourself as the storm thunders behind you.
He closes his sketchbook with a sigh, rising with that dancer's elegance that always makes your stomach flip. “Of course you did,” he murmurs, gliding over to take your freezing hands in his warm ones. “Let’s get you dry first. Then we will talk about whatever this decision-making of yours was.”
Minghao moves like he’s choreographing the moment, towel, robe, and herbal tea, all appearing like magic. He tucks you into the corner of his couch like a fragile porcelain doll, fussing with your hair and the temperature of the tea.
“Storms have beauty too,” he says softly, brushing wet strands from your forehead with the gentlest touch. “But next time, text me, and I’ll come running with a giant umbrella. Or better, tell me to pick you up.”
"You are acting as if I did it on purpose." You say while taking a sip of the tea.
He chuckles, eyes fond. “Nothing that you do can surprise me anymore.”
1️⃣1️⃣ Seungkwan:
Seungkwan opens the door mid-rant about a variety show clip he just saw, then screeches when he sees you soaked through. “Oh my GOD, my poor baby! What happened?! Was it a typhoon?!”
You can’t even get a word in before he’s dragging you inside, you see him running to the bathroom coming out in just under 3 seconds with a towel in one hand, his comfiest pajama set in the other.
He’s full-on dramatic, gasps, exaggerated shivers, fake crying. But in between the performance, he’s genuinely doting, drying your hair with such care you almost fall asleep.
“Babe, you are low-key punching me with the towel at this point.” You try to say as you push his hands away from your face.
“Next time, I’ll call the weather app manager myself. How dare they not warn us?” he says with a sniff.
“Oh my god, you are such a drama queen.” You say holding his hands, feeling him melt under your touch.
“Next time, please call me.” He says dropping the towel and holding your face.
“Will do.”
1️⃣2️⃣Vernon:
You come in soaked, and Vernon glances up from the couch, blinking once. “Whoa. Did it pour only on you?” he says, calm as ever. He gets up, trying not to laugh at how dishevelled you look, but the amused smirk is already forming. “You look like a Studio Ghibli character after a rain scene.”
Still, he quickly moves towards you, helping you get out of the soaked trench coat and trying to salvage whatever can be done to your completely drenched work bag, and guides you to the bathroom. “Hot shower. Now. I’ll find some socks too.”
Later, as you’re curled up next to him, warm and dry, he nudges you with a grin: “Kind of romantic though. You, running through the rain to get back to me. Very drama-core.”
“Maybe next time we can meet at my place since it is closer to work?” You say, nuzzling your nose in his chest.
“How about next time you call me so I can make sure my girl does not transform into a mermaid halfway down the street?” He says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.
1️⃣3️⃣ Dino:
As soon as you walk through the door, dripping from head to toe and hair plastered to your face, Chan blinks in shock, then bursts into action like it's an emergency drill.
“Wait, babe, don’t move!” he says, slipping across the floor in socks to grab a towel. He wraps it around you, muttering, “You’ll catch a cold, baby…” while fussing like an adorable mom.
He’s all warm hands, worried eyes, and awkward but sweet scolding. Helping you pat dry your hair, helping you get out of your squeaky sneakers and removing the uncomfortable weat and sticky clothes.
Five minutes later, he’s got you in his hoodie, a hot drink in your hands, and insists you sit on the couch while he throws your clothes into the dryer. “Next time, text me. I’ll come with an umbrella like a real boyfriend.”
“I did call you.” You say, taking a sip of the tea. “Twice.”
His face drops, not even daring to check his phone and argue with you on it. “How about you tell me what your schedule is for the week so I can pick you up.” He says with a guilty smile, patting your hair.
