#yeo

[ Yeosang x Fem!Reader ] — one shot, fluff — Ateez masterlist — wc: 3997

WARNINGS: High school au, Yeosang is a loser, reader is lazy, angst of you squint, minor injury, mention of blood, just fluff lol

A/n: yall im LATEEEE, but i hope yall like this

All the likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @cherryandsugar @f1-lh44 @h0ngverse @chanscappuccino @sleepykittycx @iamliterallyadorable @motheraiya55 @babybrie333 @darjeelinglemontea

IT WAS Valentine's Day, and in the air lingered that sugary scent only chocolate in industrial quantities could leave behind. The classrooms of the Seoul high school were a celebration of pastel colors: pink, red, white. Hand-cut paper hearts hung here and there from the open windows, swaying gently in the light breeze that slipped through the corridors like a whisper.

Couples chased each other's gazes between one class and the next, slipping into hidden corners of the school to steal a quick kiss before the bell dragged them apart again. The more creative girls showed off creations that looked straight out of a cooking magazine: cookies, cakes, bars decorated with heart-shaped sprinkles. The boys received everything with a mix of pride and embarrassment, awkward and clumsy, some blushing all the way to their ears.

And then there was Yeosang.

Sitting on the subway seat that morning, he held the pink bag in his hands as if it could speak to him. The white bow was slightly crooked, but he had already fixed it three times before leaving the house. The chocolates inside, small and dark, without too many frills, were bitter, just like the ones his mother made only for special occasions. And this was a special occasion.

He had spent hours melting the finest chocolate he could find, tempering it perfectly, pouring it into paw-shaped molds, a detail he hoped you would notice. Every movement had been made with one very specific thought in mind: Y/n.

You, always sitting by the window, your gaze turned toward the sky as if the world exhausted you more than it should. You, with your hair tied in a high, messy ponytail, the ribbon of your uniform never quite straight, and a mind far too brilliant for ordinary conversations. You were the student council president, yes, but you seemed to hate every second of it. And yet you were always the first to show up at assemblies, the first to stop a fight, the first to defend a classmate who couldn't defend themselves.

That was it, perhaps, what Yeosang had always admired.

You weren't just smart. You were kind, in the way only someone who knows how exhausting it is to live can be.

That day, the moment he stepped into classroom 3-A, he felt his heart stop for a second. Your desk was an attraction in itself: a small crowd of girls and boys surrounded it like bees around flowers. Each one with a different package, a trembling smile, an excuse to stay a few seconds longer by your side. You, as expected, just stood there with curved shoulders and half-closed eyes, looking like you would rather get run over by a truck than be there.

«What an hassle...» you muttered under your breath, slowly stacking the packages in a corner of your desk, trying not to meet anyone's gaze.

Yeosang froze at the doorway for a moment, clutching the bag until the plastic crinkled under his fingers. The courage he had built up during the entire trip from home to school crumbled instantly. Of course you would receive so many gifts. It was obvious. You were you, after all. And he... he was just one of many.

Without a word, he made his way to his seat in the last row, right behind yours, lowering his gaze as if he could hide between the lines of the floor. He sat down, still holding the package in his hands, but now it felt like a foreign object. Something pink and far too alive for his trembling heart.

The voices of the other girls around you grew sharper and sharper, and every now and then you responded with a distracted monosyllable, your tone flat like the sea in summer.

Yeosang bit his lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of nervousness. What an idiot... he thought. Two years spent watching you from afar, inventing conversations that never began, imagining that maybe, one day, you would look at him too. And now that he had finally decided to take a step forward, was it too late?

The clock above the blackboard read 8:11.

The bell would ring in four minutes.

Four minutes to decide whether to act or remain seated, once again, watching you from a distance.

The pink bag resting on his knees seemed to weigh as much as a boulder.

And then something happened.

You turned around. Just for a moment. But enough for his eyes to meet yours. It wasn't a long look. It wasn't an intense look. But it was direct.

And Yeosang held his breath.

The lunch bell rang with its usual metallic echo, spreading through the hallways and dissolving the professors' final words. The students poured out of their classrooms with hunger in their eyes and the energy of those who felt free, at least for those forty minutes.

Yeosang, like every day, followed the familiar path that led to the garden behind the school, a wide, open space where the grass grew thick and soft, dotted with flowers, and the trees offered shade and quiet. There were corners filled with chatter and laughter from other students, and others more peaceful, like the one he and his friends always claimed, beneath a large cherry tree still bare of blossoms.

Wooyoung was the first to sit down, carefully opening his lunchbox decorated with little cat doodles. San lay back on the grass, propped up on one elbow, while Mingi neatly arranged his lunch on a floral napkin thoughtfully prepared by his mother.

Yeosang slowly opened his bag and set it beside him, but for some reason his gaze kept drifting back to the small pink pouch still untouched, carefully tucked into the inner pocket. It was there. Still there. Despite the promises he had made to himself just a few hours earlier.

«And then, when I gave them to her, she looked at me for a second and smiled!» Wooyoung was saying, proudness gleaming in his eyes as he stuffed his mouth the way only he could. «You have no idea how rare that is!»

«Well, considering she's your girlfriend, I'd say it's the bare minimum.» San laughed, teasing him with a mischievous grin. «Though she's always so mysterious.»

«She's just reserved.» Wooyoung chuckled loudly, giggling at the thought of his girlfriend. «Besides, you know I like it when she treats me harshly.»

«Yeah, i forgot you're a weirdo.» San rolled his eyes, eating his sandwich.

Mingi chuckled softly, covering his mouth with his hand, then turned to Yeosang. «Speaking of chocolates... have you given them to Y/n yet?» he asked quietly, almost afraid of being too direct.

At that moment, Wooyoung and San both turned sharply toward him, as if they had all remembered at once, at the exact same instant, the little plan their friend had told them a few days earlier.

«Right!» Wooyoung exclaimed, leaning forward with raised eyebrows. «Didn't you say today was the day?»

Yeosang felt himself sink into the grass. An embarrassed smile plastered itself onto his lips, and he blushed so hard his ears felt like they were on fire. It was always like this when they talked about you. «No, I mean... not yet.» he replied, lowering his gaze slightly. «It's just that... there were so many guys and girls this morning, and she already looked stressed. I didn't want to add myself to the pile.»

«A pile? Come on!» San protested, crossing his toned arms to his chest, sitting straight. «You're not like the others. You actually put thought into that gift. You made dark chocolates just because she doesn't like sweets! Nobody thinks about stuff like that.»

Yeosang smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. There were still traces of cocoa under one of his nails, even though he had washed them several times that morning. It was true. He had thought of every detail. But thinking was never enough.

A light breeze shifted a few strands of his dark hair, while the tree's shadow shielded them from the midday sun. It was then, just as he was about to speak, that something caught his eye. Or rather, someone.

Not far from them, lying lazily on the grass, there you were, watching the sky. Your hands were behind your head, your left leg bent and covered by your jacket just enough to cover your private parts, and you wore that calm expression, half bored, half thoughtful, that you carried so naturally. You wore your school uniform carelessly, as usual, your shirt unbuttoned one button more than it probably should be, your lunch container resting at your side. And you looked completely at peace. Detached from everything.

Yeosang stared at you for several seconds without realizing it.

Every now and then, a cloud drifted above you, and he tried to trace its shape the way you did. There was something about the way you existed in the world, as if you had already figured everything out and decided it wasn't worth stressing over. As if you could see beyond things.

A voice pulled him back.

«You're totally whipped.» San whispered with a sly smile, leaning closer and nudging him lightly in the side. «You're looking at her like she's a piece of steak.»

Yeosang jolted, red up to his neck, and tried to laugh it off, but only a strangled sound escaped his dry throat. He gulped air.

«That's not true.» he lied terribly. «And don't call her a piece of steak!»

Wooyoung laughed softly while Mingi lowered his gaze, smiling silently. Feeling exposed, Yeosang tried to change the subject, struck by an idea as quick as it was clumsy.

«And you, San? Did you give the chocolates to you know who?» he asked, desperately trying to shift the attention.

San raised an eyebrow at him. It was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. But he played along anyway. «Oh, I definitely did.» he replied, casting a theatrical glance at the sky. «Even though at first she looked at me like I was trying to poison her.»

The laughter came instantly. Wooyoung doubled over, Mingi covered his face so no one would see, and even Yeosang burst into a genuine, almost relieved laugh.

«She doesn't understand anything about romance.» Wooyoung said between laughs. «But at least she ate them, right?»

«She ate all of them.» San confirmed proudly.

The boys kept chatting like that, jumping from one topic to another, between laughter and confidences, as the tree's shadow slowly stretched across the grass.

What none of them noticed, or perhaps only Mingi, with his quiet sixth sense, was that just a few meters away, still lying in your suspended little world, you occasionally opened one eye.

And your gaze would drift, slow and lazy, right toward Yeosang.

The afternoon opened with a clear sky and a light breeze that made the air almost bearable, even though the sun was beginning to make itself felt. P.E. was one of the least loved classes for most of them, especially when the infamous dodgeball tournament was announced, which wasn't really a tournament at all, but more of a chaotic war disguised under the false name of "group activity," supposedly meant to release tension in a group of teenagers in the middle of a hormonal crisis, though it mostly just created arguments with whoever got picked last.

The gym was already full when class 3-A walked in, the echo of footsteps on the wooden floorboards amplified by the high walls. The fluorescent lights, cold and white as ice, made every colorful ball lined up along the sidelines shine. Yeosang adjusted his hair with a few white clips, trying not to think about the persistent pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.

The teacher, wearing the weary expression of someone simply waiting for the day to end, divided the class into two teams. Names were called one after the other, and when he heard his, he turned toward the classmates who would be playing with him.

«Yeosang on the red team.»

And there, like a small sign from fate, like a thread pulling tight once again between him and the girl he couldn't stop looking at, there you were.

Leaning against the gym wall, hands tucked into the pockets of your sports uniform, your gaze tilted up toward the ceiling, you looked like you had been dragged there against your will. Your name had been read right after his, and that meant only one thing: you were on the same team.

Yeosang felt his heart flip inside his chest, his legs suddenly turning to jelly.

Calm down. It's nothing.

The court was divided by yellow lines, the balls placed at the center like mines ready to explode. The students began warming up, some stretching, others already throwing playful jabs about the game. He, on the other hand, gathered his courage, thinking that maybe this could be the right moment.

Maybe, before the match started, he could come over to you. Exchange a few words. Make you laugh with a stupid joke. And who knows, maybe suggest meeting after school, even just for a short walk, even just for five minutes.

Five minutes with you would have been enough for him.

He spotted you from afar. You had sat down on the edge of the court, still wearing that bored expression that always seemed to tell him to stay at least five meters away.

Yeosang chuckled to himself. You were almost cute in your constant disinterest in everything, fiddling with the drawstrings of your pants while waiting for the game to begin.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his tracksuit shirt, and took the first step toward you. The second was easier. The third even more so.

«Hey... Y/n?» he began, his tone gentle, uncertain but full of hope. You turned slightly, one eyebrow raised.

He was about to speak, about to say the question that had been trembling on his lips for hours.

Would you like to hang out after school?

I have something for you.

I was thinking about you.

But right at that moment, a voice exploded across the gym: «Heads up!»

A sharp whistle cut through the air like a blade.

And before he could even realize what was happening, an orange ball flew out of nowhere and, as if guided by some divine will with a terrible sense of humor, hit him square in the face.

The sound was sharp, dull, almost comical.

His vision darkened for a second, his legs gave out under his weight, and he found himself on the floor, sitting with his hand pressed to his nose while a wave of voices rose all around him.

«Oh my God, are you okay?»

«It was Yunho! He threw it way too hard!»

«It wasn’t me, I swear!»

«Someone go get the teacher!»

«Oh my God, oh my God... is he bleeding?!»

Yeosang opened one eye. Everyone was staring at him in concern.

His head rang a little, but it wasn't anything too serious. His nose throbbed, sure, and the redness definitely wouldn't fade before that evening, or maybe even for a week. But what hurt most was the realization that, once again, the moment had slipped away.

His cheeks burned, but not just from the impact. He didn't know if it was the pain, the embarrassment, or the disappointment.

Or all three together, mixed into one bitter blend.

And yet, he smiled.

Not one of those bright, perfect, confident smiles. But the kind you make when you understand that, sometimes, letting go is easier.

He looked at the ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes. I give up.

You were walking through the half-empty school corridors with a slowness that had, by now, become an integral part of who you were. One hand sunk into your pocket, the other lazily raised to cover your mouth as a silent yawn stretched across your lips.

The afternoon was fading, and the golden, muted sunlight filtered through the large corridor windows with an almost surreal calm. The shadows stretched across the polished floor like soft strips of silk, swaying gently with every step.

It had been a particularly exhausting day, even by your standards. And not because of tests or quizzes, but because of something even more draining: Valentine's Day.

A colossal nuisance.

Every year it was the same story: chocolates, notes, pink packages with too many bows and glitter, compliments whispered by boys and girls you didn't even know who hoped for a glance or a kind reply. And that was the problem, you had to be careful. Always. Careful not to be rude. Not to snap. Not to seem annoyed, even when you were, just to avoid breaking too many hearts.

What an hassle...

You had spent the last hour talking with two teachers, trying to sort out a couple of matters for the student council. The only thing you wanted now was to go home. Sink into the quiet of your room, maybe lie on your bed and stare at the ceiling until dinner.

But first, you had to get your backpack.

The classrooms were empty by now. The school, in the late afternoon, had its own particular stillness, as if every word, every run, every laugh from the day had dissolved into the air, leaving only the soft echo of footsteps on tiles and the faint creak of windows.

You opened the classroom door with a slow motion.

And that's when you saw him.

Sitting at his desk, his head resting on his crossed arms, was a boy asleep.

Kang Yeosang.

For a moment, you remained still, eyebrows slightly raised, gaze attentive.

The warm afternoon light brushed against his hair, making it glow with honey and gold highlights. It looked like strands of light scattered over his shoulders and forehead like soft feathers. His expression was serene, relaxed, almost childlike in sleep. A lock of hair covered part of his face, and you couldn't quite explain why, for a moment, you found yourself thinking he was... cute.

Really cute.

You looked away.

On his desk, next to him, was a small package decorated with two bows, one white and one red. It wasn't excessive. It didn't sparkle or smell overwhelmingly sweet. It was simple, understated. Almost elegant. A quiet note standing apart from all the noise you'd endured throughout the day.

And right on top of the package was a small note.

You approached slowly, almost on tiptoe. You didn't want to wake him. There was something about that quiet you didn't want to disturb.

You picked up the note with two fingers and opened it.

The handwriting was neat and rounded, with a slight exaggeration in the little hearts dotting the "i"s.

Not too much, though. It looked... cute.

"I really like you, Y/n. I wanted to give you these chocolates, but today it feels like the world is against me."

A small puff of air escaped your lips, a low, amused sound, almost a sigh disguised as a laugh. Then a lazy smile, one of the rare ones that only appeared when something truly managed to surprise you, formed on your face.

«So that's why you followed me around all day.» you murmured, lightly folding the note between your fingers. You weren't stupid. You had noticed. The fleeting glances, the hesitant movements, the unnatural pauses when you passed by him in the corridors. The way his friends nudged him with their eyes while he pretended not to notice.

You had seen him during the dodgeball game too. That colossal embarrassment. You had made a face, sure, but not out of mockery. It had been more... sympathy? Curiosity?

Yes, curiosity.

Slowly, as if you wanted to savor that strange, quiet moment, you opened the small package.

Inside, arranged in two neat rows, were handmade chocolates. No glaze, no sprinkles. They were simple, dark, slightly irregular. Perfect in their imperfection.

You took one. Observed it for a second, then brought it to your lips and tasted it.

Bitter.

Exactly how you liked them.

You swallowed slowly, savoring the aftertaste melting on your tongue. Another smile touched your face, more genuine than the first. Almost fond.

«Bitter, huh?» you whispered to yourself.

You slowly sat on the desk next to him, resting your chin on your hand. You stayed silent for a few seconds, letting your thoughts drift through you.

You had never cared much for these things. Relationships, confessions, romantic feelings, things you usually filed under "unnecessary complications." You preferred strategies, logic, simple solutions. But you weren't blind. You weren't heartless.

You knew how to recognize someone in love when you saw it.

And everything about that little package screamed love.

You turned toward him.

Yeosang was still asleep, lips slightly parted, long lashes casting faint shadows over his soft cheeks. He looked younger like that. More fragile. More real.

You surprised yourself thinking about how brave he had been. Maybe he hadn't said anything outright, hadn't made a grand gesture, but he had stayed. He had left the note there. He had tried. And then he had fallen asleep in class, as if the world could wait.

You stood up. You pulled a neatly folded white slip of paper from your pencil case and took your favorite black pen.

You wrote only a few words, in your thin, slanted handwriting.

"Thank you. The chocolates were good. Can we talk tomorrow?"

No signature. There was no need.

You placed the note next to the opened package, just a few millimeters from his ethereal face, leaving only one chocolate inside.

Then you picked up your backpack, gave him one last look, still wrapped in the golden afternoon light, and left the classroom.

The corridor was still quiet. The sky outside was beginning to turn orange.

And for the first time that day, Valentine's Day didn't seem like such a nuisance anymore.

You sat on your bed, holding the dildo in your hands and staring at it nervously. You'd been curious about using it for a while, but now that you were actually about to do it, you were feeling a bit anxious. You'd heard that using a toy could be just as good as having sex with a partner, but you weren't sure if that was true. You wanted to feel good, but so far, the toy just felt kind of awkward.

You took a deep breath and slowly lowered yourself onto the dildo, letting out a soft moan as it slid inside you. But no matter how you moved or adjusted, it just didn't feel right. Suddenly, you heard a knock on your door. "Hey, are you in there?" came Yeosang's voice from the other side.

A/N: This is a poly-ATEEZ kink ask blog! Feel free to ask any of the eight members a question! :) > Reblogs are very appreciated!

Yunho: Well… What do you think, baby? I’m curious about how you’d describe it. 

Yeosang: Hmmmm. Very good. I enjoy it a lot. 

Yunho: A bit more descriptive, pretty please? Yeosang: …Soft. Bright. [To anon] Yunho is very caring and sweet to me. I’ve seen how strict and mean he can be to some of the others, so I know he’s choosing to be different with me, and it feels good. Like I’m special. He always makes me feel cherished and pretty and like I’m good. 

Yunho: You should feel those ways, because you are.