✩ A ✩

I'm A

she/her

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Masterlist

The practice room door creaked open, and you peeked inside. The sound of music and sneakers sliding against polished floors filled the air. Dino was already in the middle of the room, hoodie damp with sweat, hair sticking slightly to his forehead. His eyes instantly lit up when he saw you.

Dino: (grinning, jogging over) “Y/N! You actually came.”

You: (laughing as you step inside) “Of course. You begged me last night, remember?”

Dino: (pretending to pout) “I didn’t beg. I politely asked.”

You: “Mm, sure. ‘Please, please, Y/N, I haven’t seen you in forever, I’ll even dance cutely for you if you come.’ Ring a bell?”

Dino: (covering his face dramatically) “Why do you remember everything I say word for word?”

You: (smirking) “Because it’s fun to watch you squirm.”

He laughed, taking your hand and leading you toward the mirrors.

Dino: “Okay, you sit here, front-row seat. Best view in the house.”

You: (teasing) “Wow, VIP treatment? Do I get snacks too?”

Dino: (rolling his eyes with a grin) “No snacks. Just me. That’s enough.”

You: (leaning back against the mirror) “Hmm, debatable.”

He gasped in mock offense, but the music started up again, and he jogged back to the center of the room. You watched as he slipped into focus—the way his movements hit every beat, sharp but smooth, every spin and step so clean it was like his body spoke the music.

After a couple of minutes, he stopped, panting, and grabbed his water bottle.

Dino: (looking over at you, smiling between breaths) “So? Be honest. How was it?”

You: (grinning) “Not bad. You might actually have a future in this dance thing.”

Dino: (laughing, clutching his chest dramatically) “Not bad? Just not bad?”

You: “Okay, fine. You’re amazing. Satisfied?”

Dino: (sitting down beside you, smirking) “Very. Say it again.”

You: (poking his arm) “Don’t push your luck.”

He chuckled and leaned his head against the mirror, breathing heavily. You noticed how tired he looked up close, the faint shadows under his eyes.

You: (softly) “You’ve been practicing a lot, huh?”

Dino: (nodding) “Yeah. Preparing for the tour, working on choreo. It’s been… nonstop. I hate that I don’t see you as much.”

You: (reaching over to squeeze his hand) “I know. But I’m here now. And I love watching you dance, so don’t worry.”

He turned his head, looking at you with that soft smile that always made your chest tighten.

Dino: “You always say the right thing.”

You: “That’s because you make it easy.”

The music started up again, and he gave you a playful nudge before standing.

Dino: “Okay, watch closely. This part’s for you.”

You: (raising a brow) “Oh? A private performance?”

He smirked and launched into a freestyle, every movement exaggerated just enough to be silly—pointing at you during lyrics, spinning dramatically, even blowing a kiss mid-step. You laughed so hard you had to cover your mouth.

You: (clapping when he finished with a dramatic bow) “Wow, I feel so honored.”

Dino: (grinning proudly) “As you should.”

Another short break came, and he sat cross-legged in front of you, still catching his breath.

Dino: (serious now) “You really don’t know how much it means to me that you came tonight.”

You: (smiling softly) “Of course I came. You’re my favorite person. Even when you’re sweaty and bossy.”

Dino: (laughing) “Bossy? Me?”

You: “Yes, you. ‘Sit here, best seat in the house.’ Like you own the place.”

Dino: (shrugging playfully) “Well, technically, when I’m dancing… I do.”

You: (rolling your eyes, grinning) “Can’t argue with that.”

He reached out, brushing your hair back gently.

Dino: (quietly) “Just promise you won’t get tired of waiting for me, okay?”

Your chest squeezed at the vulnerability in his tone.

You: (squeezing his hand again) “Never. I’ll always be here, Chan. Now stop worrying and go dance. Show me what else you’ve got.”

His smile came back, bright and full of determination.

Dino: “Okay. But after this, you owe me ice cream. That’s the deal.”

You: (laughing) “Fine. Ice cream it is.”

You were curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts swirled. Your phone suddenly lit up with a FaceTime call.

Minghao 🐸✨ is calling…

You blinked in surprise—it was nearly 2 a.m. his time on tour, and he usually texted before calling. Still, you answered.

You: “Hey, Hao.”

Minghao: (camera slightly shaky as he adjusts it, his hair damp from showering, expression soft with worry) “Why are you awake right now? You should be sleeping.”

You: (forcing a smile) “Couldn’t sleep. Just… my mind’s kind of racing.”

Minghao: (squinting, his voice lowering like he’s trying to read you through the screen) “Anxiety again?”

You: (sighing, pulling the blanket tighter) “Yeah. Nothing new. I’ll be fine.”

Minghao: (shaking his head, serious) “Don’t just say ‘fine,’ Y/N. Your health matters to me more than anything.”

You: (half-smiling to lighten the mood) “What’s next, Hao? You’re gonna tell me tea will solve all my problems?”

Minghao: (raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by your joke) “It won’t solve everything. But it can calm your nerves.” (pauses, his voice gentle now) “Chamomile, peppermint… something warm. It will help you breathe easier.”

You: (teasing) “You know I’m not a tea person.”

Minghao: (tilts his head, gaze steady) “Then become one. For me.”

You: (laughing softly, despite yourself) “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

Minghao: (his lips curve into the faintest smile, but his eyes are still filled with worry) “I’m stubborn because I love you. I can’t be there to hold you right now, but at least let me do something. Make tea. Drink it slowly. Pretend I’m sitting next to you.”

Your chest tightened, his quiet sincerity reaching through the screen.

You: (whispering) “I miss you.”

Minghao: (nodding once, his expression softening) “I miss you too. More than you know. But I need you to take care of yourself until I come back. Promise me you’ll try the tea, even if you roll your eyes at me while drinking it.”

You: (smiling weakly) “Fine, I promise.”

Minghao: (relaxes a little, leaning closer to the camera) “Good. And when I’m home, I’ll make it for you myself. You won’t be able to say no then.”

You: (teasing) “What if I still refuse?”

Minghao: (smirking now, eyes glinting with playful challenge) “Oh, I have my ways of being persuasive.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing. He noticed, his own smile softening again.

Minghao: (quietly) “See? Already better. Now go make the tea, Y/N. I’ll stay on call until you fall asleep.”

You were curled up in bed, scrolling through your phone when your screen lit up with a FaceTime call.

Hoshi 🐯💛 is calling…

You instantly smiled, though a little confused—it was late, and you had just seen him earlier. Still, you answered.

You: “Hey, baby.”

Hoshi: (face close to the camera, cheeks flushed, a goofy smile plastered on his face) “Y/N! My love! I miss you so much.”

You: (chuckling) “So soon? I literally left five hours ago.”

Hoshi: (pouting dramatically) “That’s five hours too long! I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

You bit back a laugh, realizing quickly that he was drunk—his words slightly slurred, his hair messy, and his eyes watery from alcohol-induced emotions.

Suddenly, another voice came from the side.

Woozi (from off-screen): “Yah, leave Y/N alone. Stop being dramatic.”

Hoshi: (turning the phone to yell in Woozi’s direction) “No! She’s my girlfriend! I love her, Jihoon! You don’t understand!”

You: (softly, trying not to laugh) “Soonyoung…”

Hoshi: (turns the camera back to his face, eyes glistening now) “Y/N… I love you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re my everything. I just—I really, really miss you.”

Your heart squeezed, even though you knew he was being dramatic under the influence.

You: (gently) “Baby, don’t cry. I’m right here.”

Hoshi: (sniffling, rubbing his eyes like a kid) “I don’t deserve you. You’re too perfect. Woozi keeps saying to let you sleep but—but I need you. I can’t wait until morning.”

Woozi’s voice, more annoyed now, cut in again.

Woozi (from the background): “She saw you today. Get a hold of yourself, Hoshi.”

Hoshi: (ignoring him, leaning closer to the screen, whispering dramatically) “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t get it. I need you right now.”

You: (smiling softly, trying to comfort him) “Okay, okay. I’ll come meet you. Just wait for me, alright?”

Hoshi: (instantly perking up, though still teary-eyed) “Really?! You’ll come? Best girlfriend in the world! Jihoon, she’s coming! I win!”

Woozi: (sighing in the background) “Unbelievable…”

You: (laughing, shaking your head) “Stay put, baby. I’ll be there soon.”

Hoshi: (beaming through tears) “I love you more than tigers love stripes.”

You: (teasing) “That’s a lot of love.”

Hoshi: (nodding seriously, eyes droopy now) “Exactly. That’s why you have to hurry…”

1:48 AM.

Your screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime request.

Hanni 🍯🧸 is calling.

You smiled instinctively, even though your eyes were heavy with sleep and your hair looked like a pillow had tried to wrestle you.

You answered. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

Her face popped up on screen, slightly grainy from the low light, but still glowing in the soft hue of her fairy lights. Her messy bun was tilted to one side, and she was wearing an oversized hoodie—probably one you’d seen her wear a hundred times. But tonight, she looked...extra cute.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she teased, adjusting her phone and laying down fully so that her head rested on her pillow, facing you. “I missed your face.”

Your heart skipped. “So you decided to interrupt my beauty sleep?”

Hanni gasped dramatically. “You’re calling this beauty sleep?! You already look good. Stop flexing.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding your flustered smile with your blanket. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it,” she said, voice soft, eyes steady on the screen.

“I do,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Silence fell for a few seconds. Not awkward—just soft. She bit her lip, like she didn’t expect you to say it out loud. Then she grinned and reached off-screen, grabbing her headphones.

“Okay, wait. I wanna play you something. I found this song today and it reminded me of you.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Is it sappy?”

“Extremely,” she giggled.

The song started playing softly through her mic—some dreamy, lo-fi indie track, the kind with whispered vocals and lyrics about late-night conversations, staring at someone through a screen, and wishing you were closer.

You didn’t say anything for a while, just listened. It felt like the world had gone quiet except for her voice and that melody.

“You’re really sending me into my feelings at 2am, huh?” you finally said, cheeks warm.

Hanni hugged her pillow and smiled. “Good. I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“All soft. All sleepy. All… mine.”

You choked on a laugh, burying your face in your blanket. “HANNI—”

“I’m kidding! I mean, unless… you want to be mine?”

You peeked up at the screen. Her tone was playful, but her eyes gave her away—hopeful, a little shy, and totally serious.

“I think I already am,” you murmured.

She let out a tiny, nervous giggle and looked away. “Stop… you can’t just say things like that when I can’t kiss you.”

Your heart did a full somersault. “If I were there, would you?”

She looked back at you. “Without hesitation.”

You both smiled, and the air between you shifted again—comfortable, electric.

Then she yawned. “It’s so late, but I don’t wanna hang up.”

“Me neither,” you said. “It’s weird… the more I hear your voice, the more awake I feel.”

“Maybe we’re like…” Hanni paused, then smirked. “Fated insomniacs.”

You laughed. “That’s our love story title.”

“Fated Insomniacs: The Couple Who Fell in Love Between 1am and 3am. Coming soon to a K-drama near you.”

“With a killer soundtrack,” you added.

“And bad Wi-Fi that freezes every time we make eye contact for too long.”

You both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to wake up anyone else in your homes.

Then Hanni went quiet for a beat. “Do you believe in fate?” she asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think some people are just… meant to find each other. No matter what.”

Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I think we were supposed to meet. Even if it was through a screen first.”

Your chest tightened in the best way. “I feel that too.”

More silence—but the good kind. The kind where everything that needed to be said had been said, and the rest was just presence.

“Let’s keep the call on, even if we fall asleep,” she mumbled. “Just… knowing you’re there helps me sleep better.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Stay with me.”

“I always will.”

And with that, your screens stayed lit in the darkness, two sleepy souls tethered by signal and sound, hearts quietly syncing across the miles.

It started off as a quiet evening. Rain tapped softly against the windowpane, and the faint scent of hot cocoa lingered in the air. You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked underneath you, watching as Sakura dug through a small tote bag overflowing with yarn and crochet hooks.

“You ready?” she asked, holding up a skein of soft baby-blue yarn and a crochet hook with a proud smile.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, slightly unsure but willing to try anything if it meant spending more time with her.

Sakura grinned, walking over and plopping beside you, a little closer than necessary. She leaned in, and your shoulders brushed. “Okay, this is how you do a basic chain stitch.” Her hands moved skillfully—graceful and quick—as she formed a few neat chains.

You tried to mimic her movements, brows furrowed in concentration. “Wait, wait... did I loop it over or under?”

“Over,” she said gently, watching you struggle a little before giggling. “No, not like that—you’re holding it like a weapon.”

“I feel like I’m battling for my life,” you muttered, lips pursed. “Why is this so hard?”

Sakura leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. “Here, let me help.”

Without waiting for permission, she reached out, placing her hands gently over yours. Her fingers were soft but assertive, guiding your clumsy grip into the correct position. Her face was just inches from yours, and as your hands moved together, you caught her gaze—deep brown eyes framed by long lashes, staring at you with amused focus.

“Like this,” she murmured, the moment suspended in quiet. Her voice dropped a little lower, a little softer, and the world around you faded for a heartbeat too long.

You swallowed, heart skipping. “I—uh—right. Got it.”

Sakura smirked. “Did I distract you?”

“No,” you lied terribly.

She laughed, her nose scrunching in that way that made your heart stutter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“You’re unfair when you’re this close,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some composure.

She raised an eyebrow playfully, but didn’t move away. “Do you want me to stop helping you then?”

“…No.”

Her grin widened. “Didn’t think so.”

She stayed close, your hands still entwined as you worked on the stitches. Every once in a while, her pinky would brush against yours, and you’d feel it like a spark running up your spine. Her touch was tender, but her presence? Intense. Her eyes flicked to your lips once—so fast you almost thought you imagined it.

But then you messed up a stitch and groaned. “Ugh. Again?!”

Sakura giggled. “You’re getting better though.”

“Really?” You looked at her skeptically.

She nodded, sincere this time. “I’m serious. You’re learning. Besides…” she paused, voice quieter now, “…I don’t mind taking my time with you.”

Your eyes met again. This time, it wasn’t playful. It lingered. Deepened.

You could feel her fingers resting lightly on yours. Her breath slowed a little.

Then, just as you thought your heart might leap out of your chest—

“Let’s take a break,” she whispered.

You blinked. “A break?”

She leaned back a bit and smiled with a mischievous glint. “Before you fall in love with me.”

You opened your mouth—then closed it. “Too late.”

Sakura’s eyes widened for a split second before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Well then,” she said, her voice velvet, “let me teach you how to do a heart next.”

You raised a brow. “A crochet heart?”

She tilted her head. “Maybe.”

Your cheeks warmed, and the rain kept falling. Yarn forgotten in your lap, you let yourself fall deeper into the cozy intensity that only Sakura could create—somewhere between laughter and longing, between hand-touching and heart-racing.

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when suddenly, a familiar ping signaled a new message. It was from Jun.

"Hey babe, how's your day going?" the message read, accompanied by a selfie of Jun looking tired but smiling, likely from the set of his latest drama in China.

You smiled, typing back quickly. "Hey love, just another quiet day here. How's filming?"

"Busy as always, but I miss you," Jun replied almost instantly. "I have a surprise for you."

Your heart skipped a beat. Jun wasn't one for surprises usually, but when he did, they were always thoughtful and heartfelt. "What kind of surprise?" you teased, unable to contain your curiosity.

"I'm sending you a ticket," came his reply, followed by a flurry of messages detailing the flight details and arrival time. "I want you to come visit. I can't wait to see you."

Your mind raced. The idea of seeing Jun after weeks apart filled you with excitement and anticipation. Without a second thought, you confirmed the ticket and started packing your bags. Work could wait; this was too important.

A few days later, you found yourself at the bustling airport in Shanghai, heart pounding with nervous excitement. Jun had arranged for a driver to pick you up, and as you stepped out into the arrivals area, you scanned the crowd eagerly.

Then, you saw him—Jun, standing tall and handsome amidst the throng of people, his eyes searching until they met yours. In that moment, everything else faded away. You rushed into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of being held by him.

"I missed you so much," Jun whispered into your ear, his voice tinged with relief and happiness.

"I missed you too," you replied, pulling back slightly to gaze into his eyes. Despite the exhaustion from filming, Jun looked at you with such tenderness that it melted your heart.

The drive to his apartment was filled with quiet joy, catching up on each other's lives, and stealing glances that spoke volumes. Once inside, Jun insisted on making you tea, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared a calming brew.

As you sat together on the couch, Jun nestled closer, his arm draped around your shoulders protectively. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner," he murmured, his gaze soft and apologetic.

"You're here now," you replied softly, threading your fingers through his. "That's all that matters."

The evening passed in a haze of laughter, shared memories, and stolen kisses. Jun told you about his experiences on set, the challenges he faced, and the moments that made it all worthwhile. You listened intently, hanging on his every word, feeling so grateful to be by his side again.

Later that night, as you lay intertwined in his bed, the city's gentle hum outside, Jun traced patterns on your skin, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

The salty breeze of Jeju Island wraps around you the second you step off the ferry. Seungkwan is practically glowing beside you, his hand warm in yours as he squeezes it tightly.

“We’re really here,” he breathes out, eyes scanning the coast like he’s greeting an old friend. “You ready for the best tour of your life?”

You laugh. “I’ve been ready since you told me I was coming to meet ‘Boo Seungkwan, Jeju Edition.’”

He grins, already dragging your suitcase with one hand and swinging your fingers with the other. “Ah, you’re not ready. Jeju Seungkwan is unstoppable. You’re gonna fall for me all over again.”

“I already do, every day.”

He pretends to stagger. “Wow, this girl,” he clutches his chest dramatically, “you’re too smooth.”

By afternoon, you’re standing in front of his childhood home, a cozy house with potted plants lining the porch and the scent of tangerines in the air. His mom greets you with open arms and warm soup.

“She likes you,” Seungkwan whispers after dinner, elbowing you as you both wash the dishes together. “She asked me if I’m planning to marry you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what did you say?”

He smirks. “I said, ‘Not yet, but she’s the one.’”

Your breath catches for a second before you flick a sudsy hand at him. “You’re lucky I love you.”

The next morning, he takes you to a quiet beach, one he used to visit when things felt too loud. You sit together on a blanket, watching the waves roll in, his head resting on your shoulder.

“This place saw a lot of my tears,” he says softly. “I used to come here when school was difficult or when trainee life got hard. Or… when I just needed to breathe.”

You stay quiet, letting him speak.

“I never imagined I’d come back here with someone I love. Someone who feels like home… while we’re in my home.” His voice breaks a little, and he lifts his head to look at you.

“You okay?” you ask gently, brushing your thumb under his eye.

He nods, then chuckles as a tear escapes. “Yeah. I’m just stupidly happy. You being here—it makes this place feel warmer. Like all the hard memories were worth it just so I could sit here with you.”

You lean your forehead against his. “You’ve always been home for me. Wherever we are.”

He kisses you then—soft, salt-kissed, and trembling.

Later, walking hand in hand through an orange grove, he says, “Let’s come back every year. Just us. Make new memories here.”

“Only if we get matching straw hats next time.”

He lets out the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard from him. “Deal. You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

“I do,” he says without hesitation. “More than I ever thought I could.”

And as the sun dips low, casting gold over Jeju’s cliffs and fields, you swear you’ve never seen Seungkwan look more at peace. Home in his hometown, with the person who makes him feel at home.

The movie had just started when your phone buzzed like crazy. You groaned from the couch, head on Seokmin’s lap, and reached for it lazily—only to sit up when you saw the frantic string of messages from your cousin.

Cousin: Emergency. I need you to watch Hana just for tonight, please. I’ll explain later. She’s already in a taxi to your place. ETA 10 mins. I’m so sorry I couldn’t warn you earlier.

Your eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

Seokmin looked at you with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“My cousin’s kid. Hana. She’s on her way here… right now,” you said, blinking. “It’s an emergency and I guess I’m babysitting?”

You ran a hand through your hair, already beginning to panic. “I don’t even know if I have juice boxes or crayons or—god, what do kids even like these days?”

You turned to him suddenly. “Seokmin, it’s okay if you want to go. Seriously. You didn’t sign up for this. A four-year-old popping into our date night? You don’t have to stay.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you… trying to break up with me over a toddler?”

“No! I just—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or stuck—”

“Y/N.” His voice softened. He sat up and gently took your hands in his. “Why would I leave? You’re nervous, and I’m here. We’re a team, remember?”

You stared at him, warmth flooding your chest. He squeezed your hands. “Plus, I love kids. I'm actually amazing with them. You’re about to witness Seokmin: Baby Whisperer Edition.”

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang.

You opened it to find little Hana, wearing a pink backpack and sparkly light-up sneakers, holding a stuffed bunny in one arm and looking up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.

“Hana!” you greeted her, kneeling down. “Hey sweetie. Your mom told me everything. Come on in, okay?”

She nodded shyly. You offered her your hand, but she ran straight past you and—like a magnet—attached herself to Seokmin’s legs.

You turned just in time to see him crouch down and grin. “Hi Hana. I’m Seokmin. You can call me DK if you want. That bunny got a name?”

“Her name is Coco,” Hana whispered.

“Coco? That’s the best bunny name I’ve ever heard.”

You watched them, stunned, as Seokmin instantly had her giggling by pretending to interview Coco for a cooking show. “So, Coco, what’s your favorite vegetable? What’s that? Broccoli?! That’s my favorite too!”

Hana burst out laughing.

Hours later, your heart felt like it had melted into your ribs.

You stood in the kitchen doorway with a juice box in hand, watching Seokmin and Hana play “store” with random objects from your bookshelf. He crouched down with a fake mustache drawn on his finger, speaking in a silly accent as he “bought” a candle from her.

“That’ll be two hugs,” Hana declared seriously.

Seokmin pretended to gasp. “Two?! You drive a hard bargain, Miss Hana. I’ll pay in advance.”

And then he pulled her into a playful hug, both of them giggling wildly.

You leaned against the wall, your chest tight with affection. He caught your eyes for a second and smiled softly, like he already knew what you were thinking.

Later, after Hana fell asleep on the couch watching Tangled, Seokmin came over to sit beside you. The house was quiet, the soft glow of the TV the only light.

“She’s sweet,” he murmured.

“You were amazing,” you said, voice low so you wouldn’t wake her. “Like… I don’t even know how you did that. She adores you.”

He chuckled. “I just treated her like a little person. I think kids are cooler than most adults, honestly.”

You watched him in the dim light, his features calm and content.

“I saw the way you looked at us earlier,” he said suddenly. “You were thinking something.”

You hesitated. “I was thinking… if this is what our future looks like one day—if we ever have kids—I think we’d be okay.”

He turned to face you fully, his eyes soft and serious now.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Your heart flipped.

He leaned over, kissed your temple, and rested his head against yours.

“You’d be a great mom,” he whispered. “And I’ll always stay, Y/N. Even when things get crazy. Especially then.”

And in that moment, with a sleeping child on your couch, takeout containers still on the table, and Seokmin holding your hand so gently—it didn’t feel like a chaotic night anymore.

It felt like a glimpse of something beautiful.

Something real.

The weather was perfect — the kind of soft, breezy afternoon that begged for hand-holding and a warm drink. You and Minji had planned this little date all week, and now that it was finally happening, everything felt golden.

You arrived at the small corner café just before her. It was tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop, with ivy crawling along its brick walls and little fairy lights twinkling even during the day. You barely had time to pull out your phone before you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Guess who~” Minji’s familiar voice sang against your ear.

You grinned, leaning back into her. “If I say someone else, will you get jealous?”

She pulled away just enough to spin you around, her arms still around your waist, eyes playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just prove why I’m your favorite.”

You tilted your head. “Big talk.”

Minji leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “Big confidence.”

You both giggled as she took your hand, tugging you toward the café door.

Once inside, you picked a cozy corner by the window — two steaming drinks, one croissant, and a shared brownie later, the table was filled with soft conversation and quiet laughter. Minji’s hand never left yours, her thumb brushing lazy circles on your knuckles as you talked about the new show you were bingeing, the song stuck in her head, and how she couldn't wait for your movie night later.

At one point, she reached across the table to brush a crumb from your lower lip, her smile soft and teasing.

“You’re such a mess,” she whispered, eyes twinkling.

“Then why are you smiling like that?” you teased.

“Because you’re my mess.”

Your heart fluttered at her words — her tone warm, her affection so open and unfiltered. You looked away for a second, cheeks heating up, and she immediately leaned closer.

“Aww, are you blushing?” she cooed. “That’s so cute.”

“I’m not blushing.”

She smirked. “Sure.”

After finishing your drinks and stealing the last bite of brownie from her fork, you both stepped outside. The pavement was still a little wet from earlier rain, but the sun was peeking through now, golden and sweet.

You were mid-laugh, making a dramatic impression of a scene from the show you’d talked about when your foot slipped on a patch of uneven stone near the curb. The laugh caught in your throat as your ankle twisted and you tumbled forward.

“Y/N!” Minji shouted, reaching out — but too late.

You landed hard, hands catching you just in time, but your knee scraped against the pavement. The sting bloomed quickly, sharp and burning.

Minji was by your side in seconds, crouching beside you with wide eyes, all her teasing and cool-girl demeanor gone.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? Baby? Let me see.”

You winced but tried to laugh it off. “It’s just a scrape—”

“No, no,” she said quickly, voice firm but soft as her hand hovered over your knee, afraid to touch it but desperate to help. “You’re bleeding. It’s not just anything.”

“I’ve had worse,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.

Minji ignored that. “Where’s my bag? I think I have tissues—no, wait, there’s a pharmacy two stores down. Stay right here.”

“Minji, I’m fine—”

“You are not fine,” she said, standing up and brushing her hair from her face with urgency. “You’re hurt. That matters.”

Your heart squeezed at the panic in her voice. You reached for her wrist, tugging her gently back down to you. “Hey. I’m okay. I promise.”

She knelt again, her expression still worried, her hands now cupping your face. “That scared the hell out of me. One second you’re laughing and the next… I just—I hate seeing you hurt.”

You leaned into her touch. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she whispered. “You just have to let me take care of you.”

You nodded, and she pulled you into a hug, your face buried in her shoulder, her hand cradling the back of your head.

After a long moment, she pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Okay. I’m going to run and get a little first-aid kit. You stay here. Don’t move, or I’ll carry you home bridal style. I’m not kidding.”

You grinned. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Say that again after I patch you up and carry you like a hero in a movie.”

You laughed, and she softened instantly. “I’ll be right back.”

Five minutes later, she returned — out of breath but triumphant, holding a mini first-aid kit and a juice box she grabbed “to keep your spirits up.” She gently cleaned the scrape, dabbing it with antiseptic while muttering, “Sorry, sorry, I know it stings, I’ll be fast.”

Once she was done and had secured a cute pink bandage over the cut, she looked up at you.

“See? Professional-grade care. You’re lucky to be dating me.”

“I am lucky,” you said honestly, eyes soft.

Her cheeks flushed, but she covered it up by leaning forward and kissing your lips — gentle at first, then firmer, her hand holding your cheek like she needed to feel you were really okay.

When she finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours.

“Next time we go out, I’m bubble-wrapping you.”

“And miss your dramatic hero moment? No way.”

Minji laughed, eyes shining. “You really do like teasing me, huh?”

You shrugged, grinning. “It’s because you love me.”

She kissed your nose. “Yeah. I do.”

And with her arm tightly around your waist, she helped you up, kissing your temple once more before walking slowly beside you — a little slower than usual, just in case you stumbled again.

The laughter of friends echoed off the restaurant walls, silverware clinking against plates, glasses full of wine and warmth. You sat beside Chaewon, your girlfriend, her fingers loosely interlaced with yours beneath the table, a comforting presence you never took for granted. This dinner had been her idea — a cozy night with close friends after weeks of non-stop rehearsals and promotions.

But things didn’t unfold the way she had imagined.

It started small — so small it could be shrugged off. That friend of yours, Yunjin, the one who always bordered the line between friendly and too friendly, had been seated across from you. When you arrived, she pulled you into a tight hug and spun you around, making you laugh while Chaewon stood beside you, invisible for a moment too long.

Chaewon told herself not to overthink it.

Then came the private jokes. The way Yunjin leaned in, elbow nudging yours, whispering something about a meme only the two of you knew. The way you laughed without glancing at her. The way Yunjin touched your shoulder when she made a joke, a joke you didn’t even really laugh at, but you didn’t push her away either.

Chaewon went quiet. Her hand slipped from yours under the table, and you didn’t even seem to notice.

She tried to distract herself, sipping water, forcing a smile when both of you and her friends made conversation. But her eyes kept drifting back to you. To the way Yunjin looked at you — like she didn’t care you were already someone else’s.

Her heart clenched. Is she overreacting? Is she seeing something more than what is there? Is she...right?

You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just being nice. But Chaewon felt like a bystander to something she wasn’t invited to.

By dessert, Yunjin “accidentally” brushed your knee under the table. Chaewon flinched. Her jaw clenched. You didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in talking about some childhood story that Yunjin kept feeding off of, adding her own twists to make it funnier.

Chaewon bit her tongue so hard it hurt. You looked so happy, and that's all Chaewon wants. But at what cost?

Then, as everyone got up to leave, the night air hit, chilly and sharp. Yunjin let out a dramatic shiver.

“Man, I should’ve brought a jacket. I’m freezing,” said Yunjin with her puppy eyes.

Without thinking, you shrugged yours off. “Here, take mine.”

You didn’t see the way Chaewon’s face dropped.

She had been cold too. But she hadn’t said anything. She had just kept rubbing her arms discreetly through dinner, not wanting to make a fuss.

And now your jacket — her jacket, the one you always draped over her shoulders when she was cold — was on YUNJIN.

That was it.

Chaewon turned, walking off into the night without a word. Her heels splashed into a shallow puddle as the first drops of rain began to fall.

You blinked after her. “Chaewon?”

She didn’t look back.

"Baby?" You asked.

You muttered a quick apology to your friends and ran after her, rain coming down harder now, soaking through your shirt as you caught up with her just down the street. She stood beneath the dull glow of a streetlamp, arms crossed, hair sticking to her face.

“Chaewon—what’s wrong?” you asked breathlessly, reaching for her arm.

She stepped back.

“You gave her your jacket,” she said flatly, eyes dark and burning. “You laughed at all her jokes. You let her touch you like I wasn’t even there.”

You blinked, stunned. “Wait, what? Chaewon, it wasn’t like that—she's just a friend—”

“And I’m your girlfriend,” she cut in, voice rising. “But you didn’t act like it tonight.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach. The realization hit all at once — the way you kept brushing off her subtle cues, too busy trying to be polite to everyone else. Too blind to how she was shrinking into herself.

“I didn’t mean to—” you started.

“You never mean to,” she whispered, eyes glassy now. “But I was sitting right next to you, and I’ve never felt so... invisible.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, stepping forward despite the rain pouring now. “Chaewon, I didn’t realize. I should’ve noticed how uncomfortable you were, I should’ve—god, the jacket—I wasn’t thinking. It meant nothing, I swear. I didn’t think it’d hurt you like this."

Her lip trembled. “It’s not just about the jacket. It’s about how I felt all night... like I was just there. Not with you.”

“I see that now,” you murmured, voice shaking. "I wanted your friend night after all your promotions and practice to be fun, so that's why I tried so hard to be the best host so you could relax. Now I see that I was not realizing I should have just focused all this energy on you! That's what you really wanted.”

You look like you're about to cry. “You deserve better than that. You always make me feel loved, safe, chosen. I should’ve done that for you tonight. I'm sorry, baby.”

Chaewon’s eyes searched yours, the anger slowly ebbing into something softer — wounded, but still full of love. You reached out, cupping her face gently, your thumb brushing raindrops from her cheek.

“I choose you, Chaewon. Every time. I’m sorry I made you doubt that.”

The silence between you was filled with the rhythm of rain against pavement.

Then she surged forward and kissed you — hard, desperate, full of frustration and longing and apology. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in close, your heart pounding as if to say never again.

When you pulled apart, breathless and soaked to the bone, Chaewon gave a small, rueful smile.

“You owe me your next five jackets,” she muttered.

You laughed. “They’re all yours.”

The studio was dimly lit, bathed in soft blue light that flickered from the control panel as Woozi sat hunched over his keyboard. He’d been there for hours, trying to write—anything, really—but his mind was tangled in yesterday’s fight.

You hadn’t texted “good morning” today.

That might seem small to anyone else, but to Woozi, it was everything. You always texted good morning. Even on your busiest days. Even when he was across the globe.

But not today.

And he knew why.

"You always make it about you, Jihoon!" "Because you never tell me how you feel!" "I shouldn't have to explain everything just to be heard." "Then maybe we just don’t understand each other at all."

The last words you threw at each other echoed in his mind like a broken loop. Woozi slumped forward, resting his forehead against the keys.

"Bro, you look like you haven’t slept in 48 hours," Hoshi said, entering with two iced Americanos. He handed one to Woozi. "You still beating yourself up?"

Woozi took the coffee without looking up. "She didn’t text me this morning."

"Oof." Hoshi whistled, sitting down in the rolling chair beside him. "That’s when you know you messed up."

“I keep replaying it,” Woozi muttered. “I wasn’t listening. I got defensive. She just… wanted to feel heard.”

“And you wanted to fix things. Like a typical music producer,” Hoshi joked gently. “But, Jihoon, sometimes people don’t want a fix. They want a partner.”

Woozi sighed. “I just... I didn’t realize how much it would hurt not seeing her name pop up on my screen. Even the dumb little sun emoji she puts next to 'good morning.' I’ve been staring at my phone all day like an idiot.”

“Okay, first of all—you're not an idiot,” Hoshi said. “You're a hopeless romantic with a productivity complex. Second—write her a song.”

“What?”

“Come on, you speak through music, Jihoon. That’s your language. So speak. Apologize the way you know how.”

Later That Night

You were curled up on your couch, staring at the TV but not really watching. Your phone sat next to you, untouched. You kept checking the lock screen for a message. Nothing.

Then—a soft knock on the door.

You hesitated, then opened it to see Woozi standing there in a hoodie, cap low over his face, holding a small USB drive.

“Hey,” he said, almost shy.

“…Hi.”

He stood there for a beat, silent, then held out the USB like it was a peace offering.

“I made something. Can I come in?”

You nodded and stepped aside, still unsure. Woozi walked in and made his way to the small keyboard setup you had in your living room—his backup studio when he stayed over.

He plugged in the USB. “I… didn’t know how to say sorry. I just kept messing it up in my head. So I made this instead.”

He hit play.

The song began with a soft guitar riff, followed by gentle piano. No beat yet. Just his voice, quiet, raw. The song was about how sorry he was, how he understood where he went wrong, and how he missed you when you weren't around.

You turned to look at him. Woozi wasn’t watching you—he was staring at the floor, clutching the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You were right. I talk more than I listen. And I try to solve things before I sit with them. With you.”

You walked over slowly and touched his shoulder.

“I missed you today,” you whispered. “It wasn’t just the good morning text. It was… knowing we were still okay.”

“I didn’t feel okay until I started writing,” he admitted, finally meeting your eyes. “But I don’t want to just write songs about you. I want to be with you. And be better for you.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice. “Then let’s fix this together. Not with one song. With effort. Every day.”

He reached for your hand and gently pressed his lips to your knuckles. “Deal.”

Then you smirked a little. “But that was a pretty damn good song.”

“Yeah?” He smiled—really smiled—for the first time all day. “Want to help me finish it?”

You nodded, sitting beside him at the keyboard. “Let’s call it… Good Morning. A reminder.”

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, the kind that begged for warm socks, cozy sweaters, and something sweet in the oven. You had invited Joshua over for a baking date, and he showed up at your door in a grey hoodie, holding a paper bag.

“Guess what I brought?” he grinned, stepping inside and shaking off the rain.

“If it’s not my cute boyfriend, I’m not interested,” you teased.

He laughed, setting the bag on the counter. “Close. I brought cookie cutters... in the shape of little stars, hearts, and dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You love dinosaurs!” he protested, already pulling out the supplies. “You said that one time—”

“I do love them,” you admitted with a smile. “Okay, fine, I’m sold. Let’s make dino cookies.”

He tied an apron around your waist, his hands lingering for just a moment too long. “There. Cutest chef in the room.”

“You mean second cutest,” you said, poking his cheek.

You started mixing ingredients, laughing as flour puffed into the air like snow. Maybe you were focusing more on how cute Joshua is than on the baking.

“Wait, wait—you were supposed to add the eggs after the sugar,” he said, reading the instructions upside down.

“Oops. So we’re going full chaos baking now?”

“I mean, we can still fix it,” he assured, dipping a finger into the dough. “Hmm... tastes like you didn’t follow the rules.”

You slapped his hand away playfully. “Hey! No eating raw dough!”

“I’ll stop if you give me a kiss,” he said cheekily, leaning in.

You gave him a peck on the nose. “Close enough.”

He pouted. “Unfair.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you sat on the counter, legs swinging, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You smell like vanilla,” he mumbled.

“You smell like rain and... cute boyfriend.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around you. “This might be the cheesiest day of my life, and I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

When the timer dinged, you both rushed to the oven. He handed you a heart-shaped cookie.

“Here. For the love of my life.”

You bit into it. “A little burnt.”

“But still sweet,” he said, brushing a crumb from your lip.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Like you.”

You had just settled into bed, the soft glow of your phone lighting your face as you scrolled absentmindedly through messages, when his name popped up on your screen.

Jeonghan ❤️ 3:02AM “Can you come over? I can’t sleep… I need you.”

You blinked at the message, heart thudding a little harder. You two had only been dating a month — mostly digital dates over FaceTime, little messages during his breaks, and evening walks along the Han River whenever schedules aligned. Yet, even with the distance, the bond had grown fast and deep.

You called him. He answered immediately.

“Babe,” he mumbled, voice thick and low. “I might be a little drunk.” You could tell. His tone was syrupy sweet and slurred at the edges, soft and needy.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently. “I just want to see you. I missed you all night. Come here… Please.”

You sighed, already pulling a hoodie over your pajamas. “I’m coming. But if Seungkwan catches me, I’m blaming you. You know how this man loves his sleep.”

When you arrived at his place, the building was quiet. You slipped into the elevator with your hood pulled low and your heart racing — not from nerves about seeing Jeonghan, but because sneaking past Seungkwan was like trying to get past a security checkpoint with a siren strapped to your back.

Jeonghan’s apartment door creaked open before you even knocked. He was standing there with bedhead, a loose white tee and sweatpants hanging from his frame, his face flushed and glowing.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, pulling you in like he’d been waiting for air. He smelled like peach soju and his cologne. His arms wrapped around you instantly, and you stumbled into his embrace, laughing quietly.

“Shhh,” you reminded, glancing down the hall. “Oh right… Seungkwan…” he giggled against your neck. “Don’t worry, I texted him earlier that I was going to sleep early. He doesn’t know.”

“He definitely knows,” you muttered, but let him tug you inside.

His room was warm and dimly lit, a soft playlist humming in the background. He collapsed onto the bed, pulling you with him. His hand found your cheek, eyes glassy but so full of affection.

“Take my makeup off?” he asked, eyes fluttering. “I’m too lazy.”

You nodded, grabbing his cotton pads and cleanser from the nightstand. He sat between your legs, head tilted up obediently, trusting you entirely.

“You always take care of me,” he murmured, as you wiped the shimmer from his eyes.

“Because I like you, dummy.” “I like you too. A lot.”

You paused. You’d both said it in texts, casually, but hearing him whisper it now — skin bare, guard down — felt different. Realer.

“Done,” you whispered.

Jeonghan turned, eyes shining in the dark. He leaned in and kissed you. Soft and slow, his lips tasting faintly of strawberry chapstick and leftover liquor. One kiss turned into another. Then another. His hand rested on your waist, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the quiet.

“You’re like… my comfort person,” he said sleepily. “When you’re here, I can finally breathe.”

You smiled, your fingers threading into his hair. “Then breathe, Hannie.”

You laid down beside him, facing each other, your fingers intertwined. You hadn’t planned to stay, but his warmth and the softness of the moment lulled you in. His breathing slowed.

Before you knew it, your eyes were drifting closed.

The morning light filtered through the blinds when you stirred. You were still in his bed, Jeonghan’s arm draped across your waist. You blinked, trying to piece together the time — and the fact that Seungkwan hadn't barged in screaming. He had to have heard you guys, right?

Then you noticed it.

Two iced Americanos sat on the nightstand.

You sat up slightly, groggy, confused… until you saw the sticky note:

“Hope you’re both happy and hydrated. You owe me. – Seungkwan ☕”

You groaned, falling back into the pillow as Jeonghan chuckled sleepily beside you.

“Told you nothing gets past him,” you muttered.

It had been three months since you and Vernon had started dating, and the butterflies never quite went away. Small gestures still made your heart race—the way he smiled when he caught your gaze, the way he brushed his hand against yours when no one was looking, and the little, thoughtful moments that made you feel so incredibly loved.

Today, you found yourself walking hand in hand with Vernon through the quiet, elegant halls of an art museum. It was a perfect afternoon, the kind where everything felt a little bit dreamy, and being with Vernon made it all the more special.

"Vern, do you know what this one means?" you asked, pointing at a large painting hanging on the wall. The canvas was filled with swirling, vibrant colors, and a figure seemed to be caught in the chaos.

Vernon raised an eyebrow, giving the painting a careful look. "Uh... I’m not entirely sure," he admitted with a small smile. "But I can Google it real quick." He pulled out his phone and began typing, his brow furrowing as he read.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You really do that for everything, don’t you?"

He shrugged, looking up at you with a playful grin. "Well, it’s better than pretending I know what I’m talking about." He read out loud, "It’s supposed to represent the balance between chaos and tranquility, like how even in the messiest parts of life, there's still peace to be found somewhere."

You tilted your head, taking in the painting again. "I like that," you said softly, "It feels kind of like us."

"Us?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Yeah," you smiled up at him, your hand tightening around his. "We’ve been through our share of chaos, but somehow, we always find peace together."

Vernon’s expression softened, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "I’m glad you think that," he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. "I feel safe with you. Like, no matter what’s going on in the world, you’re my calm."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you looked up at him, eyes wide with affection. "I feel the same way," you whispered.

He smiled, a soft, warm smile that made your stomach flip. "Good. Because I think you're my favorite piece of art," he teased, glancing at the painting one last time before leaning in to whisper in your ear, "And way more beautiful than anything in here."

You blushed, your heart skipping a beat. "Stop, you're going to make me embarrass myself," you said with a laugh, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered.

Vernon grinned, pulling you closer as he kissed the top of your head. "You don’t need to be embarrassed," he said, his voice low and comforting. "You’re perfect just the way you are."

You looked up at him, completely at ease in his presence. No matter where you were, or what you were doing, with Vernon by your side, you felt like you could be yourself completely. He was your safe space, and you were so thankful for him.

"Let’s keep walking," he suggested, wrapping his arm around you as you moved to the next exhibit. "There’s more art to see."

new format, hope you enjoy!!

You were curled up in bed, scrolling through your phone when your screen lit up with a FaceTime call.

Mingyu 💞 is calling…

You instantly smiled, heart doing a little flip, and answered.

You: “Hey, baby.”

Mingyu: (grinning ear to ear, hair a little messy from rehearsal) “Hi, love. I miss you so much.”

You: “I miss you too. How was the concert last night?”

Mingyu: “It was amazing, the energy was insane—but it would’ve been better if you were there.”

He pouted slightly, and you could tell he was genuinely tired, yet still made the effort to call.

You: “You’re so dramatic.”

Mingyu: “I’m serious. I thought about you the whole time. I kept looking into the crowd, pretending you were there.”

You were about to respond when suddenly the screen jerked, and someone else’s face popped into view, laughing.

Seungkwan (from off-screen): “OH, is this the Y/N?!”

You: (laughing) “Hi, Seungkwan!”

Seungkwan: “You know he talks about you all the time, right? Like nonstop. 'Y/N likes this,' 'Y/N said that,' 'Do you think Y/N would like this jacket?' I’m telling you, he’s obsessed.”

You: (giggling) “Is that so?”

Suddenly the screen began shaking again as Mingyu’s voice cut in, flustered.

Mingyu: “YAH! Give me my phone back!”

Seungkwan: (still running with the phone) “He even—wait—wait—he even dreamed about you during our nap on the tour bus!”

Mingyu: (somewhere in the background) “I’m gonna kill you! Y/N, don’t listen to him!”

You: (teasing) “Aww, you dreamed about me?”

Mingyu: (finally back on the screen, cheeks red) “Ignore everything he said. He’s exaggerating. I mean—okay, I may have mentioned you… a few times…”

You: “Just a few?”

Mingyu: (covering his face with his hand, embarrassed) “Okay, fine. A lot. But I can’t help it. I just really, really miss you.”

Your heart melted.

You: “I miss you too, Gyu. You're so cute when you're shy.”

Mingyu: (smiling shyly now, eyes soft) “You make me like this. I can't wait to be home.”

You: “Me neither. Just a few more weeks.”

Mingyu: “Promise you’ll wait up for me next time I call?”

You: “I always do.”

Mingyu: (grinning again) “Okay. I love you.”

You: “I love you more.”

In the background, you could faintly hear Seungkwan yell: “GET A ROOM! Oh wait—you’re not even on the same continent!”