#k-labels

i feel like it's been a while (cause it has 🥲) and here is my update during that time. the motivation to do anything has been going in and out lately. i told myself i would do a first draft to my dissertation during my uni break but i've only done the planning and maybe 1/5 of it, and uni starts soon. the break has gone so fast this time it's actually crazy. thank you for those who have waited patiently. i've been jumping around my longer fics and not finishing any of them so i decided to give myself a break by writing this short scenario. hope you like it!

Weekends are for relaxing. Weekends are for having fun with loved ones. Weekends are for all the things that you want to do during the weekdays, but responsibilities say otherwise. And weekends are for Jeong Yunho.

And that's how it's supposed to be until your period kicks you in the stomach; literally. You're never one to have serious cramps or pain. It's happened only a handful of times, and those days were filled with sleep to forget about the pain, or medication to ease the pressure on your lower body. But this time, it's a bit different. The pain comes in waves at random times, waking you up from your sleep throughout the night.

You could barely stand, and the smallest steps made you wince when you tried going to the bathroom last night. With streaks of tears down your face, you had to cancel your date with Yunho. Dejected and angry, you let your pillows be a victim of your punches and crying. But even then, your outburst didn't last long because the muscle contractions from your lower body stilled you.

Come the morning, your hair is surely messy despite not leaving the mattress much. Yunho responded to your message and even called for a while before he had to rush off somewhere. Your mum left breakfast for you on your nightstand and a couple of chocolates, but you didn't have the appetite for anything. You could only stare at your ceiling and eventually pull your blankets up to your chin, exhausted from the physical episodes that happened in the last twelve hours.

On the other hand, Yunho has always had a period tracker app for you on his phone. Not to track when your outbursts might happen the most. Not to track when your emotions might heighten the most either. None of those stuff that the internet has framed in a comedic sense. But to know when you could be hurting, and when he should pay even more attention to you. When he should be buying all kinds of snacks and skincare products. When you would need comfort the most. When you would need understanding the most.

He's quite flustered this time since your period came a few days earlier than expected, but he's come prepared. Yunho has gone shopping for a little care basket for you recently, and prepared and displayed them all prettily in a basket.

"Oh!" He exclaims before reaching his final gift. "And you too, Snoopy," setting the plush in the middle as he rearranges everything for the last time.

With all this, he drives to your house, careful to make sure the contents of the basket don't move too much. In the end, he ends up tidying them up even though the change is minimal. When Yunho steps up and knocks on your front door, your mum greets him happily with a warm hug.

Your mum gasps at the assortment of your favourite things in his hand. "Thank you for taking such good care of her."

Yunho shakes his head. "I will always take care of Y/N. Just leave it to me."

Right on time, the electric teapot is ready to serve the boiling water for the chamomile tea that your mum is about to serve. Yunho frowns at the reminder that you're in pain.

"She might be sleeping, but you're more than welcome to check," she gives a small smile. "I'll let it cool down a bit before I get to her. I'll pour you a cup too!"

Yunho extends his gratitude before making his way to your bedroom. His knuckles softly against the wooden door before opening it. Your room is dark despite the small gap between your curtains, and Yunho spots the pile of papers stacked on top of each other on your study desk. With subtle steps and the softest closing click to your door, he places his basket on the bedside table and kneels on the floor beside your bed. You're peacefully sleeping, small snores leaving your gaping lips. Yunho chuckles, patting your head and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

He turns around to your study desk and tidies the little space, ready for you to use it again when you get better. He keeps the rustling from his movements minimal and places each object on the table carefully, even if it's just a piece of paper. As the table comes together, the framed picture of you and him has Yunho's lips widening. It's the first date that he took you on, and it's in the amusement park with his puppy headband and you with a bunny headband. He has his chin resting on your shoulder, and the slightly high angle catches the way his arms are wrapped around your middle, snug and tight against him.

"Snooping around?" Yunho turns to your voice, sleep still evident in the volume.

"Hi love," your boyfriend approaches you once more, the smile only widening as his lips take yours sincerely. "How are you feeling?"

You shake your head. "It's never been this bad before."

The knit between his eyebrows and the way Yunho takes your fingers between his has your tears welling up. "I'm here," he kisses the back of your hand. "And I come with extra comfort."

He turns your attention to his gift. You gasp at your favourite character in its most huggable form. Yunho shakes his head in adoration, handing you the Snoopy gift first. Immediately, you cuddle the puppy and tuck him into your blanket next to you. Your cheeks press against the soft material, and a satisfied smile overtakes you.

"Wow," Yunho raises an eyebrow. "You literally have a giant golden retriever in human form, but you choose the beagle instead."

You continue the teasing, hiding your face into the object of his jealousy, "Snoopy is comforting."

"I'm comforting too!"

"He gives me a different kind of comfort."

Yunho scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully and tries to pry his gift away to no avail. "I can't believe I'm losing to a stuffed animal."

"Snoopy, you hear that? You won!" You stretch his paw high in celebration.

"I was going to do some skincare and watch movies with you, but I guess you don't need me-"

Yunho was already rising on his feet when you reached for his wrist and, with the little energy you had left, tugged him down. He finds his balance and space on the bed, sitting down next to you. The unexpected pull widens Yunho's eyes, reddening his cheeks as you tangle your fingers back into his hold. His gaze slowly softens, his other free hand cupping your cheek when a gentle chuckle leaves your lips. You try to sit up, but the position has you whimpering. Your boyfriend quickly leans over to you, laying you back in bed.

"Thank you…"

Yunho shakes his head, "I'm sorry that you're not feeling well."

You breathe out with a frown. Just like he did before, you pull your joined hands to your lips, pressing your lips to the back of his hand. "You're here. I'm feeling much better now."

You shift towards one end of the bed to make space for your boyfriend. Yunho gladly takes the offer, putting your new plushie back on your bedside table. When you were about to retort, he hushed you quickly with kisses all over your face; that's one way of keeping the attention on him.

Yunho lies on his side, his arm across your middle carefully. "Go get some rest. And then, we can do some skincare together."

Your stomach is still acting up, and you're still uncomfortable from the sensation. But Yunho's hold and presence make it so much easier to forget it all. A different kind of perfect comfort that you have been wanting your whole life, especially in this tough time. In the end, your weekend is still full of Jeong Yunho, and you have him to thank.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist

you’re not supposed to be here. you’re supposed to be using the bathroom, but somewhere along the hallway, you lost your way so now you’re here, standing before an open door. his bedroom wall is filled with michael jackson posters — and some bands you’ve only seen from your father’s old cassettes.

sitting in the middle of the room is him. he looks a little like riku, but with rounder features and a constellation of moles decorating his honey skin. he’s sitting on the floor, strumming his bass and bopping his head to the tune, tongue poking against his cheek.

you stand there, awestruck. your hand grips on the door frame, attempting to hide yourself behind the wall but he could see you. he looks up, fingers still orchestrating the instrument, eyeing you from head to toe. you feel your skin burn.

“lost?” he speaks, voice nothing like you’ve ever heard before. you think that you’ll remember the sound forever.

“uhm… the bathroom?”

“last door on the left.”

embarrassed, you walk away, his stare at the back of your head going unnoticed.

…

“what’s your brother’s name?”

“hm? haechan.”

“maeda hae—“

“—lee. different dad.”

“lee haechan…”

the bed dips. riku looks at you, propping his elbow onto the bed, lifting himself slightly to get a proper look. his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes squinted as he scans you. he’s known you for a while now, able to read your every move.

“yn. are you into my brother?”

your face turns to look at him, just slightly. you’re grateful for the dim lights, perhaps, he wouldn’t be able to see the blush creeping up your cheeks. you shake your head.

“no way. i just saw him on my way to the bathroom and was curious.”

you pray he couldn’t see through your lie. he squints his eyes just a little more, for a moment, before resting his head back against the pillows.

“good. he’s a stupid prick.”

you don’t know that. what you know for sure, is that he’s stupidly gorgeous.

…

yn [9:05 AM]: maeda riku i am seriously going to kill you. SERIOUSLY!!!!

rikuri [9:09 AM]: please do NOT i’m sooooo sorry ok!!! yushi needed my help so i had to leave :( pancakes in the microwave love you!

you scoff, tossing the phone to the other side of the bed, sounding a hushed thud. reluctantly, you pick your towel off a chair and make your way to the bathroom, mentally cursing your best friend in your head, planning all the ways you can get back at him. you brush your teeth, back leaned against the wall. you don't notice the door's unlocked until haechan walks in, towel slung over his shoulder.

"what —"

"chill," he mutters, grabbing his toothbrush. there's no urgency in his tone, no shock, as if it's the most mundane thing ever.

haechan brushes, standing close to you, shoulders lightly brushing. he looks into the mirror, meeting your eyes and raising his eyebrow, as if telling you to resume.

and so, you do. a little slower, more flustered than normal.

...

hanging out at riku's become a routine. embedded in your being, you find yourself taking the bus to his neighbourhood after class without thought. his mother claims that you're a maeda now, as you know where the spare keys are, and a designated mug sits in the dishwasher for you.

riku on the other hand, is rarely around. he prefers spending his afternoons at yushi's leaving you alone as you watch an old romcom in his living room.

haechan walks in, wordlessly taking a seat beside you  — it has become a frequent occurence. you think that you see haechan even more than riku lately, the way he'd join you for your binge watches, or when you'd bake cookies with riku. sometimes, he'd leave touches that linger —hand on your back as he passes by, or fingertip brushing against your lips as he makes you try a snack.

it's normal, yet it accelerates your heart rate without fail. you find yourself nervous every time he does as little as looking at you.

"pretty woman."

you turn to him, eyes widened. you? pretty? your hands curl around the hem of your shirt, making sense of it all.

"huh?"

haechan raises his eyebrow, tongue poking against his cheek.

"the name of the movie?"

"oh."

he chuckles, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the tv. right, of course he's talking about the damn julia roberts movie, and not you. you clasp a cushion against your face, embarrassed. he taps on your arm, touch burning through your skin.

"are you going to sungchan's party? the one on friday?"

"sungchan? oh, probably not, was not in —"

" — do you want to come with me?"

there's a minute pause as you turn your head towards him, and he's already looking at you. all the jest in his face is replaced with sincerity as he stares down at you, lip pressed against teeth.

"oh, yeah, of course."

"cool. it's a date then. we can get dinner first."

...

when riku said that his brother's a stupid prick, this must be what he means.

the servers must think you're a pathetic little thing, the way you're sitting at the far-right booth with a watered down iced tea and a melted banana split. haechan's an hour late — and with the way that he's not answering any of your calls, he's probably not coming. so, ashamedly, you grab your bag and leave for home, where you quickly flop onto your bed and weep.

no signs of haechan, at least not up until one in the morning.

yn [1:27 AM]: your brother truly is a PRICK. all caps lock btw. BOLDED. UNDERLINED. TIMES NEW ROMAN SIZE 57 AND CENTERED.

rikuri [1:28 AM]: preach mama rikuri [1:32 AM]: also wat

you're not in the mood to explain, so you shut your phone and sleep, dried tears on your cheeks.

...

it wasn't supposed to last this long.

haechan's had one long day, like it was a karmic debt sent by God which he had to pay in the form of nakamoto yuta and his stupid lies.

"sorry dude, the gig wasn't supposed to last this long. shotaro said they had some sort of technical error," yuta shrugs, shoving his drumsticks into his bag.

haechan glares at him, a full on side-eye as he swings his bass bag over his shoulder.

"you said the gig was supposed to start at 9, but it started at 10. and then you said we were the opener — bro, we were the fucking encore!"

"miscommunication, sorry," the older answers, holding his hands up in surrender.

haechan rolls his eyes, "does anyone have a charger? my phone's fucking dead," he scans the room, grumbling "useless," under his breath when all his band members shake their head, shoving his bass bag into the back of the van.

he bids his goodbye to the members (while scowling, of course), fast-walking to his car when the universe reminds him of whatever karmic debt he had in the form of a flat tire. he bangs his head against the car roof, cussing under his breath.

"i'm taking the fucking van!"

...

you're not at the diner, and you don't seem to be at sungchan's party.

haechan trudges through the crowd, muttering apologies at every bump and spilled alcohol. instead of finding you, he bumps into riku, who’s sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing a drink.

“have you seen yn?”

riku blinks, shaking his head. confusion sits in his eyes for a while until realisation hits.

“wait. is this why she texted me saying you’re a fucking prick? what the fuck did you do to my best friend?”

haechan’s tongue pokes against his cheek, running a hand over his face. he grabs riku’s drink, downing it in one go before grabbing his brother's hand. he pulls his brother through the crowd, earning a couple whines from him.

"dude — where the fuck are we going?"

"you're helping me get yn back."

to riku's dismay, the two brothers arrive at your house — standing in your garden as haechan figures a way to get riku into your bedroom. you won't answer calls, nor will you answer the door. so, he eyes the tree looming over your bedroom window and the gears in his head click.

"riku. you're going to climb up this tree and go through her window."

"the hell? who said i'm doing all that?"

"your dearest older brother, of course."

the younger groans, but he makes no more protest as haechan gives him a boost, and so he climbs up the tree, making his way into your window and turning his head back to shoot haechan the middle finger.

you're jolt awake by the sound of riku falling to the floor with a thud. the blanket is pulled over your body as you screech.

"what the fuck?"

"it's me, it's riku!" he yells back, holding his hands up in surrender. "yn, you have to go downstairs, please."

...

someway, somehow, riku manages to convince you to go downstairs.

"in another life, please find a man better than my brother."

you scoff, opening the door to be greeted by haechan, on his knees, staring up at you. full begging posture. riku runs a hand across his face, shaking his head.

"god, i can't watch this," he mumbles, walking away to disappear into your kitchen.

haechan, on the other hand, is still on his knees, hands clasped together in a prayer. it's a rare sight — he always seems so aloof, and cheeky, poking jokes at you any chance he had, leaving remarks that border on platonic and flirty.

you liked it, though. lee haechan on his knees begging.

"i'm so, so sorry," he says, each word emphasised. "i had a whole thing going on with the band. i swear i planned my time so well, it's just — some things happened, with my car, and then my phone died —"

"haechan. get up."

"no, i really am sorry, please don't be mad —"

your cheeks flush as you look around the neighbourhood, seeing the lady that lives across you peeking through her window only amplifies the redness. you pull him up, "please, just get up, i won't be mad anymore."

"you promise?" he finally gets up, staring at you with hopeful eyes.

you sigh, bringing your hand forward to flick him on the forehead.

"don't ever mess up again."

he blinks, wanting to make a comment on how the flick didn't hurt at all, but he bites his tongue.

"so you forgive me?"

"yes."

"you're not mad at me anymore?"

"no."

"so you'll go on a date with me?"

you roll your eyes, but you can't stop the smile that creeps up your cheeks.

"geez, haechan — yes, i'll go on a date with you."

haechan grins, bringing his pinky up to seal the promise, cheekily kissing your pinky.

"is my brother still on his knees? can i come out now?"

...

“you should just break up,” sungho points out, always the logical one. “it seems like both of you are over the relationship, there's no point dragging it on if none of you have feelings anymore.”

dongmin stares at him, thinking. he wasn't wrong. lately it had started to feel like his relationship was slowly changing into a kind which he didn't want. there were more fights than peaceful days and the days that did turn out peaceful were only that way because both of you had managed to avoid each other the whole day. it seemed like all the two of you knew how to do nowadays, was get on each other's nerves.

sungho’s always been good for talks like these. he stays quiet, offering advice where he thinks it’s needed and then allowing the other person to stew in their thoughts. 

“how is it my fault that she decided to feed me after you avoided me all day?” dongmin stares at you, blood pounding in his ears.

“it's your fault, because you decided that hanging out with her was better than accompanying your girlfriend!” you yell, even louder than him.

you're both standing on opposite ends of the living room, woonhak and sanghyeok had already retreated to sanghyeok’s room, giving the two of you the space that you needed. 

earlier today, you had asked dongmin if he wanted to go with you to this one work event. dongmin had declined and you had both been okay with the whole idea. instead, dongmin decided to hang out at his studio, working with his fellow producer. she had decided that both of them should take a break from poring over the latest melody and go out for dinner. 

it was dongmin’s fault, he supposes. since he didn't think how it would look, ditching his girlfriend only to be spotted hanging out with another girl just hours later. he knew he was wrong, but he had been tired and hadn't been thinking clearly so it just makes him even more angry. he knows he's wrong god damn it, and he’d tell you so, if he managed to get a single word in. 

sanghyeok enters the living room cautiously, making sure it's safe for him to enter. dongmin would laugh at his carefulness, if he wasn't so pissed. 

“is the war over?” sanghyeok asks, trying to lift the mood. 

“lord, i hope.” dongmin groans into his hands. 

following sanghyeok, woonhak also appears. “God, it's like you're both shooting a melodrama or something.”

dongmin just shakes his head in agreement. laughing, sanghyeok adds, “a comedy too maybe, the way you two seem to be so good at bouncing insults off of each other.” 

woonhak grins, continuing with the joke. “what’s next? a fantasy? or a chaotic and messy soap opera?”

dongmin just rolls his eyes. he can't believe this is what his life has come to. woonhak, making fun of him. 

dongmin tries to stop himself from bashing his head on the very nice and very expensive table. cleaning the blood stain from the pretty tablecloth would probably cost more than his life insurance, so he sticks with imagining it instead.

it was supposed to be a good day. he had reserved a table at this pretty chandelier-lit restaurant for the date, even showing up early and making sure nothing could ruin today, and yet the two of you now try to keep your voices down as you argue, attempting to not disturb the very luxurious couples dining all around you. 

dongmin turns his head away, staring out the window since he knows that looking at you will just mean that you’ll end up fighting again. it's not even a topic worthy of an argument, it's that stupid. he spots you out of the corner of his eye, silently wiping your tears and has to hold back a slight scoff. he thinks it's a bit selfish of you to be shedding tears after starting this whole fiasco.

“you sure about this?” donghyun stares at his friend.

dongmin grimaces and shrugs. things seem to be back on track again, for now. both of you seem to be doing better and even though he doesn't know how long it'll last this time, all he can do is just live in the moment and deal with it later.

my note: WERE SO BACKKKKKKKKK!!!!! re-continuing my bnd's first trilogy series (woohoooooo) and i wrote this at 4 am while being sick bc i couldn't sleep so 😍!!! anyways i think this might be my FIRST venture into the toxic and angsty department so deal with me as i figure it out 🙂‍↕️

song rec: obv amnesia by boynextdoor. i love their first trilogy man its so peak im genuinely obsessed with every single song on all three albums

back to the shelves!!

@k-labels | @illuminated-oceannet | @kstrucknet | @kfilms | @chrimatanet | @fantasia-films

taglist: send an ask!!

Jihoon is the love of your life.

You know that. He knows it. And in the beginning, it was perfect. You didn't do petty fights like high-schoolers. You didn't complain, didn't get upset when he was on the road and couldn't always be around. In so many ways, you were his ideal type. Independent, resilient, and his comfort zone. Someone who was capable of making him just as proud as he made you.

And yet, you had come to the conclusion that this would never last.

Laugh all you want. He had so many horizons he had yet to explore, as a musician and as a person. Wouldn't there ultimately come a day where he found greener pastures elsewhere and decided to go for it? And as someone who loved him this deeply, who saw him as home, would you ever want to hold him back? Why should he stay with someone hailing from a small town, with not even half the star potential he had?

You wondered if sometimes fighting over stupid things, making him angry, or him upsetting you would make it easier to leave. Wondered if it was a sufficient excuse. You saw no other alternative. Simply "splitting up" would break your heart, more than you liked to admit. After all, you had never met someone better than him. But humans are selfish by nature. Was it such a sin to say you never wanted this to end?

Yet, it seemed that your own mind was deadset on being your enemy. Even on simple, lazy days where you did nothing but sit on his studio couch and watch him work, or when you were sprawled on the couch watching TV together, there was a nagging voice in the back of your head that could ruin even the most peaceful of moments.

"Will you still be doing this with him a month, six months, and a year from now?"

Your answer would come mere months later, when he had come home from a studio session, said nothing, and tugged you into a tight embrace.

"Bad day?" You ask as he hums and raises his head by a fraction to answer you. "Horrible. Just couldn't get the chorus right."

"You'll get it," You reassure. "You always do. I know it."

A huff of laughter escapes him. "Don't make me sound like Beethoven. It'll get to my head."

"In this day and age? Possibly," You tease. "The water heater's on and your face mask's in the fridge. Shower and I'll get you something to eat."

He sighs in satisfaction at your words. He kisses your forehead in gratitude, and you laugh and shoo him off. You turn back to your laptop, ready to shut it down and unwind for the night. When you straighten up, you spot him still standing there, staring at you.

"What?" You ask, somewhat self-consciously.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Spit it out," You tease. "Or else I'll think about it all night."

He taps his foot a few times, as if pondering whether to speak or not. Finally, he purses his mouth and blinks once. "Every time I come home and you wait up with food, or when you come to the studio just to make sure I'm still alive..."

You hold your breath. Is this him confessing some hidden irritation at your care? Is this it -- the excuse for yourself, and for him?

Irrational panic creeps in. Worry that this might be it. That the nagging voice was right, and that you would not be doing this with him for much longer.

"I wish you'd give me a reason to leave." He sighs, almost fondly. "I wish something on this earth could give me a reason not to love you as much as I do."

Your breath hitches. Because that wasn't a bad thing -- not entirely. This was exactly how you felt. This was him wishing, just like you did, that something would go wrong, that something would make you convinced that this was a bad idea. Every speculation you'd made about your relationship; wondering if he'd find something better, was him doing the same thing. And every time you second-guessed and doubted, he had been doing the same.

"I've thought about it," You admit quietly. "I wish you'd turn out to be someone horrible, someone I can go and complain to my friends about. But I... just can't. You're wonderful. Inside and out."

He chuckles at that. "I guess we both don't really mean what we say, do we?"

You laugh at that. "Then what do we do? We're just two unsure idiots in love. And if you find something better someday, I... I don't know what I'd do."

"We are," Jihoon agrees softly. He drops the haversack to the ground and walks towards you. "And I don't want you worrying about that. If it happens, I'll take you with me, anyway."

"You will?"

"Of course," He says, as if it's obvious. "If everything really goes wrong, we can move to some secluded town and disappear together. Sounds like a good idea to me."

You hit him on the shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'll be as ridiculous as I want if it brings you peace of mind," He counters. "I came up with a lyric today. I thought it was a good time to tell you what I kept thinking this whole time with it."

"What is it?" You ask quietly.

He squeezes your hand once. "Love begins when certainty ends," He recites. "I don't need all the answers when I'm with you. I don't want all the answers when we're together. I just want to walk this path with you and figure it out, step by step and day by day."

"Even if you don't know what's next?"

"Especially when I don't know," He smiles. "I'm a lyricist. I write songs from start to finish. But I think part of the magic is not knowing how the end will be. We haven't even lived through the middle yet." His hand comes up to cup your face, ever so tenderly. He smiles and leans in, pressing the softest of pecks onto your trembling lips. "We haven't even lived through our best days yet, baby."

Every other day became a milestone in your journey of best days together.

The truth was that love by itself was not the only answer. It would never be able to magically erase every uncertainty in your head. There would still come the time when the same question, the same argument, the same topic would surface, every now and again:

"Will you still be doing this with him a month, six months, and a year from now?"

And it would be a lie to say you have the answer now. Not now, and perhaps not ever. Nobody really knows what the next day would bring. But whenever you look at him, wait up for him with food, and visit him at the studio just to make sure he was still alive, you realise you don't actually need to.

All you really needed was slow, gradual, sometimes shaky, but full trust that whatever life had in store for you two, wherever this path led, you both would go together. All that mattered, really, was to stop waiting for the end before the story even played out.

And if everything went wrong... well, you could always move to some secluded town and disappear together. It sounded like a really good idea.

main masterlist the ‘love’ masterlist