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MISSION:YOU
CHAPTER 7: CASABLANCA
wc: 4500
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tagslist: @hon3ysun @sl33ptalk @blue5ummer
***
mira
upon inspection, sleeping with wooyoung after all that didnt send the best message.
when i returned to him after awkwardly facing san, i realized wooyoung needed to seriously hear things without ripping my clothes off first, which was a bit hard to launch after i was the one who initiated said ripping of clothes. i didnt know what i was thinking either, its like my brain defaulted back to what was familiar, and it was exactly the pattern that led me to breaking up with him to begin with.
in just a few minutes within that, shame, guilt and everything inbetween flooded over me. i knew what that did to us, why would i perpetuate it? especially now that we needed to rely on each other more than ever?
i guess old habits die hard. but by god, they had to die no matter what.
“wooyoung?” i call him as i enter the room and close the door shut behind me. wooyoungs on the bed, and holds his arm outstretched to me.
“you ready to cuddle?” he asks me. always ready to priotize the least important things ever.
the post orgasm joy is faded from my face and i look at him deadpan once again. wooyoung frowns like he knows whats coming.
“we actually need to talk first,” i say and he sighs outloud.
“what every guy wants to hear after sex, surely.”
“we’re gonna talk about how you do things,” i start off. “how you handle things that involve me, how you treat me, all things you and me, actually.”
“whats wrong with how i do things?” wooyoung has the nerve to ask.
one thing about this man, hes never been serious in his life. not even when he intends to be.
“well for starters, everytime you do things you do it with me in mind, but you dont really think of me,” i tell him. “you make me feel like i dont have a choice. in most things. i used to go along with it because i love you, but this really isnt going to work if you dont let me breathe, wooyoung. im a person before i am your lover. i need my own autonomy.”
“i know im not a spy. i know i cant fight. i know my law knowledge is basically pointless in this world because we live outside the law now, but…dont you think i should still be able to add things when it comes to plans and stuff?” i ask him genuinely. “dont you think its insulting for me to go from someone who had it all together to being treated like precious cargo, getting moved from one place to another constantly like i dont have any thoughts?”
i know pride isnt important. but i dont have much left. it is important to me.
“i know this might sound trivial to you because of survival and all but,” i sigh and look at my hands. “i still want to remember who i am. even through all of this. i know there are going to be things that i cant handle, i dont want to lose myself as a person too.”
wooyoung nods. i dont know if he even understands.
“so…be more considerate?” he questions. maybe he does.
“considerate and…less impulsive. i know youre stressed but your default being to push me away doesnt help me,” i say. “im scared of being abandoned too.”
“i’d never abandon you,” wooyoung says softly. “i think ive proven that time and time again.”
wooyoung wouldnt ever abandon me, yeah. but i think that just means he would never let me go. i’d never leave his sight. but i dont say that.
“ive proven that too,” i remind him. “everytime theres been an out, ive stayed. so i’d like a little more credibility on top of that.”
wooyoung nods a little better now, and i can tell that he somewhat understands. huh, somehow, that was the best communication we ever had in this relationship.
“do you have anything to say to me?” i ask him, inviting criticism. i know im not always perfect, just most of the time.
“just that…i cant wait for all this to end,” wooyoung says, somewhat jadedly. “i want you to see who i am past…all of this. im not that bad.”
i frown, and somehow, that made me really sad.
i never saw wooyoung with all this attached to him. this was new. i was learning to accept that this was always his life. the wooyoung to me was the one without all the chaos and violence. but i guess he means without any external forces governing his will in any way.
but still, i held a fondness for that guy that i met. even if it was a front. it felt real. it was real to me.
“can you cuddle me now?” he finally asks after enough of a silence has passed. a resigned smile hangs on my lips as i make my way to the bed and spill my arms around his chest, squeezing tightly. im sprawled on top of him like a sweater.
“you know before this…i really wanted to take you to a boathouse,” he admits, stroking my hair. “i saw one online, at the beach. it was a black cabin, it had vintage marine decoration on the inside, there were so many pictures of boats and whales. i loved it. it looked so romantic…it felt so much like…you.”
i smile into his chest, closing my eyes. “since when was i into that?”
“its all in the vibes, sweetheart,” he says as if it was so wise. “sometimes when i used to watch you work, you’d have that quietness about you. quiet but still so strong. like the ocean and its lighthouse.”
with the storm we were in now, if anyone was the ocean, it was not me.
“youre the lighthouse, wooyoung,” i say, my voice getting smaller because i was fighting sleep. “cause youre supposed to make sure we dont crash.”
“im trying.” its the smallest i’d ever heard his voice. he felt so far away. his hsnds stopped playing with my hair as well.
suddenly, our comfortable silence was interrupted with a huge bang on the door, making us both jump up quickly.
“hey, your clothes just got dropped off,” san yelled from the other side, somehow sounding bored despite the urgency of his knocks. “get dressed so you can get the fuck out.”
“we’re leaving?” i look at wooyoung.
“werent you listening to hongjoong when he explained?” wooyoung asks. “we’re flying tonight. we need to stay in the window.”
right, we needed to be undetected. if i didnt want wooyoung to babysit me all the time, i’d need to start using my brain again. i was always a smart girl, im sure once i adapted to all this, that it wouldnt be so fucking hard anymore.
before wooyoung and i get up, i nudge him. “you should apologize to san,” i say. “for your earlier outburst.”
wooyoung grimaces, showing me he had no plans of doing that. i look at him pointedly.
“look how hes helping us,” i remind him. “he helped us get clothes, passports, a way out? i dont care if youre mad he offered to help me escape, hes still your friend and we’d be fucked if not for him.”
“you realize i contributed to this too, right?” he fires back and i narrow my eyes at him, that makes him sigh and nod. “nevermind, i’ll apologize.”
we go to the living room and san threw out three outfits for each of us. one was a golden abaya for me, one was a professional pencil skirt and shirt that honestly looked like it couldve been in my warddrobe for a court visit, and the last was a plain black long sleeved tshirt and loose pants. the last outfit was the most depressing one, but it also looked the coziest.
but not only that, there was a hideous bob wig on top of that. i look at san questionably.
be grateful. be grateful. be grateful.
it didnt even fit my skintone. it was way too dark, and my skin was bronze.
“thank you,” i forced out, picking the wig up and putting it on, tucking my hair in. it was a lot to shove away.
by the end of it, i looked like some jazz star from the roaring twenties. i felt like fucking velma kelly with less aura.
san smirks, he could tell i fucking hated it. “picked that one out myself, thought it really matched your style.” he says.
oh there was nothing worse than receiving life supporting help from a ragebaiting asshole.
“you still look pretty, mira,” wooyoung says. i look at him sharply.
“when did i say i didnt?” i ask him.
“i-i mean—”
san snickers to himself. and wooyoung unpacks his clothes. he has a standard male thobe, a salaryman suit and then an all black fit himself. traveling with three outfits each, was that suspicious?
“the rest you guys are gonna have to figure out,” san says. “try your luck at the tourist markets.”
“as if,” i scoff. “and get overcharged? i mean i wont, but wooyoung will and i’ll be overcharged by association.”
“you can just negotiate right?” woo asks hopefully. but i never really negotiated, especially with sales people.
“i’ll just threaten them,” i mutter. “it would work better.”
i just talked vaguely until they gave in to my thinly veiled demands. it worked every time. maybe it was the evil rich girl aura i was giving off to everyone and thats why they thought i was part of my fathers literal arms dealings.
“thanks san,” woo says, his pride suffering through it. “and im sorry for…overreacting earlier. you were just doing the logical thing.”
“i know,” san says, looking at wooyoung flatly. “and good on you for apologizing. would you look at that? maybe she does bring out some good in you.”
the way san said it was so condescending that made me wonder if he actually liked wooyoung or not. but the two of them bounced between that and undeterred brotherhood within minutes, so i couldnt even make that assessment. i didnt understand him, did san have some sort of dysregulation?
i mean, obviously, i know hes a spy. and that must take a toll. but with him its so drastic. im trying to remember if woo ever acted like that, just switching up in the middle of it and then going back to being human again.
and i realize he has, back when he pointed a gun in my face and almost an hour later he was trying to tell me he wants to keep me safe and that he cares about me.
was it some kind of training?
i never get to ask. wooyoung and i end up packing and i overhear san explaining to wooyoung where he can get weapons over in morroco from his contact. i tune them out when they start talking about guns. i wonder if i should get one. i can shoot, i was taught. and once something was in my physical inventory, it never left.
but what was i going.to do with a gun, was that a good idea…i should be able to help wooyoung but…
that idea just felt wrong.
guns felt.so overly violent. back when i smashed the fire extinguisher on seonghwa’s head not knowing if i would kill him or not, that felt less dangerous than a gun. because it was just some random object, but theres only one thing to do with a gun.
and its not to make people pause. its to make them disappear.
“hongjoong’s driving you guys,” san announced. “so dont keep him waiting when he gets here. make sure you have everything and get out quick.”
he was so comfortable doing.this, that i couldnt help but wonder about the agency. and if they knew what san was doing, how would they react. he screamed at us when he got here but, san still seems like a guy entirely too chill for the situation hes in.
maybe i was overthinking. i dont know anything about wooyoung and him. their friendship could be deep, and it could warrant this kind of grace. but then, what could have happened between san and wooyoung where this was the ride or die level they were at?
i put on the office outfit and flat shoes because thats apparently the only shoes san got. theyre hideous. they dont even have small heels. once i put the wig on, i knew it was official.
i had become edna from the incredibles. nevermind velma kelly.
wooyoung held back his laugh everytime he looked at me, i could tell. this fucker, and all he looked like was a regular white collar worker. he even got nice sunglasses. i looked terrible next to him.
i could not wait till we got to morroco, theres better wigs than this at the fucking chinatowns.
“rides here!” san shouts. and suddenly we rush. all of us go through the doors and run downstairs as fast as we can to avoid being seen by any neighbours. when we’re outside, a black hyundai taxi was pulled up, and we quickly ran for the doors. san somehow also climbed in the passenger. i looked at him incredulously.
“youre coming with us?” i ask in shock.
san turns around and looks at me. “i have to make sure you assholes board that plane, dont i?”
“i love you, man,” woo tells him, smiling. im missing something here for sure.
“ew,” san responded and turned back to the front. hongjoong quickly pulled out from the front of the building, his driving so rough each of us jolted with every move he made. even with the seat belts.
“yo san, hop on the aux,” hongjoong says. “and only click on my.playlists.”
“i dont know how to do all of that,” san mutters. and wooyoung reaches over the seat and takes hongjoong’s phone, sending himself the playlist. then, he connected to the aux and started playing.
i watched san as No Diggity started playing. hongjoong and wooyoung were bumping like we were on our way to a party. and san seemed detached from all of it, just staring straight ahead.
i dont know why, but he gave me a really bad feeling.
***
through the line, and as we boarded a gate, san watched us. wooyoung and i had glasses on to disguise further, but wooyoung still felt he had to say goodbye to san in a personal way. i couldnt stomach it.
“i’ll see you maybe in a few years,” wooyoung said to him, smiling awkwardly that was hiding sadness. “i kinda got used to you saving my ass.”
“guess its symbolic i did it one last time, huh?” san says, a small smile on his face too. it didnt seem as deep as wooyoungs. his eyes shift to me as i stare him down. i wonder if he can see through my glasses.
“take care of yourself, amira. that might be the last time you’ll hear your real name from me.” he said.
i furrowed my brows but didnt address that. “you too,” i said, just to not completely leave him hanging.
“if you guys succeed, i’ll take you out to saint tropez,” san said with a chuckle.
“can you afford it?” i asked, mentally wishing i held back but kind of happy i didnt. san was still the biggest asshole to me, i deserved one last jab. his strangulation marks are currently hidden with a scarf and will probably make wooyoung look like an abusive boyfriend to anyone who asks.
san laughs lowly at my indirect insult and wooyoung ends up answering for him, laughing as well. “dont be fooled by his apartment. san is fucking loaded.”
“perks of being the person cleaning up the messes,” he humbly brags.
theres an announcement through the intercom. i nudge wooyoung letting him know we have to go. they give each other one last non verbal goodbye and i cant turn around fast enough to get away from him.
i really wanted to know the backstory of it, but i decide to wait till we’re on the plane till i spring it on wooyoung. im so paranoid i cant sleep, but wooyoungs out like a light.
i watch everyone. theres a baby crying, its the only sound echoing throughout the plane. theres a lot of old people. it looked like a lot of people returning home, rather than traveling.
***
when i wake up, im sumaya benali.
we’ve landed at casablanca international airport. the sun is out, stabbing me in the eyes. when i look through the window, i imagine the hell we’d encounter on the other side. im not looking forward to it.
wooyoung and i have so little luggage that its almost pitiful. we drag out single suitcases down the planes walkway, and i mentally thank hongjoong for getting us cases with wheels. im hungry, i want something nice, even if its overpriced. but i stop myself, saving it for the street food i missed and loved.
i taught wooyoung some standard arabic, not bothering to teach him darija because of the difference. wooyoung was just happy to learn something new back then. we catch a cab outside the airport, and i end up having to command the driver.
“youre so hot when you talk arabic,” he says. “your voice changes.”
i hold back a smirk. “its darija. but thank you.” i felt the same with him speaking korean honestly, i’d only heard him do it around his parents.
i never really went into detail with my culture with wooyoung, because im not a traditional woman. i didnt know i’d return to morroco so soon. it was nice for holidays, and to see family. but i was always someone who wanted to be away from home. now that im returning under these circumstances, i wonder if i wanted to be away from home—or just my father.
because home was home. but it was shaped by him, every little thing. the family trips, the snacks i ate as a girl. his presence stained every memory. i hate that even if i wasnt the only child, i still wouldve been a “daddys girl”. its funny how loved you are by your father as a girl when you dont have the consciousness to go against him in any way.
and this current situation, i never thought i’d be holding my breath at the airport as my passport is checked and scanned. i never thought i wouldnt be able to check into a hotel, because wooyoung told me we cant leave traces of where we’re sleeping.
i mourn the silence of my apartment complex. morroco is alive, loud. you hear people, bikes, music. its so alive its like the walls are breathing. i cant help but feel like we are being watched with every movement. i think of article 490 of the morrocan penal code, my law brain missing the rush of reading a statute. wooyoung and i were unmarried, so we wouldnt have been able to book a hotel room together anyway. we’re screwed. it doesnt usually apply to tourists, except hes the tourist, and im not.
wooyoung and i end up finding a semsar ( broker) an elderly man sitting outside a grocery store, with an oversized hat and drinking tea. wooyoung gives him dirhams so we can get a cash only accomodation, and i end up needing to wear an ugly fake ring so that he can think wooyoung and i are married. wooyoung’s forced to do the talking because i told him it would be suspicious if i did it, knowing the backstreets. a man negotiating for a woman was standard, and unfortunately wooyoung had to do it in broken arabic and lots of english.
the old man understood enough. but then he gives me a strange look that makes me frown.
he stares between us. i hope we look humble enough, my abaya is polyester.
the semsar rubs his forefingers together. “the room is ready. 2000 dirhams for the week, but i must see kaghet.” he says, all in darija.
wooyoung looks at me for a translation. i frown and tell him in english.
“he wants our marriage certificate before we can go to our accomodation,” i tell him. wooyoung clenches his jaw.
“i told hongjoong if it was better if we were married.”
“we were on a tight schedule,” i remind him. and then go to answer the old man. “uncle, we had a problem with our bags at the bus station,” i say, switching to darija. “i asked my brother to send me a picture of the certificate but he has not answered me yet.”
the old man gives us narrow eyes, stepping closer and dropping his voice. “no certificate, no key. the moqaddem walks this street at 10:00 PM every night. if he smells sin in that house, he’ll have my head. you want me to go to the habss (prison) for you?”
wooyoung doesnt like his tone one bit. “do i need to knock this son of a bitch out?” he mutters just so i can hear.
i shake my head at him frantically. “no, hes worried about the local neighbourhood informant for the police. they’d report us for staying together outside of marriage if they knew. give me an extra 200, i can talk this fucker through it.”
wooyoung’s eyes widens and he reaches into his pouch, taking out more money. he palms it into my hand, and i pass it to the old man, giving him a flat look.
he takes it with a raised brow. i hope he wont be difficult about this.
“sidi (sir) , we had to leave our home because of my father-in-law and kept our trunk, he has the original papers because he wanted us to stop leaving. please, we cannot sleep on the streets tonight,” i begged him, pushing the extra cash towards him.
the man looks both ways down the alley and swipes it in one fluid motion, his eyes unimpressed. “if the police catch up with you, ive never seen your faces, ya?” he says.
i give him a curt nod. wooyoung gives me a curious look. “that looks like it was easy,” he says.
“its easy for now,” i mutter. we didnt know how greedy these fuckers would get still. he was already overcharging us because wooyoung is an obvious foreigner. i cant negotiate the price because we dont have forged marriage papers. god life on the run is embarrassing.
the semsar walks ahead of us by ten meters, hands tucked into his pockets like hes taking a casual stroll. the alleys smell like cat piss, and the kids are loud at every corner. its overstimulating, i dont even want to know what this place we’ll sleep at will look like.
then, the broker stops infront of a faded green door, a rusted iron knocker on its wood. he drops a big key without turning around, walking ahead.
“dont look back. just pick the keys up and lets get inside,” i tell wooyoung.
he swipes the key feom the ground and my breath shrinks. this is where our old life truly dies.
whenever i came to morroco, ive never not stayed in our family home. now i was in the backstreets, where everything smells like stone and everything is touched, lived in. you cant escape whats real.
cooking oil slips into my nostrils as we enter the place. we step into a courtyard, where what used to be a fountain, is now a plastic bucket catching leaks from the roof. theres colourful laundry to our right, its damp, moving with the warm breeze. and as we move, no ones doors are really closed. we see the lights of tvs poking through the gap, someones grinding spices in one, theres a pair of slippers halfway inside the door and the other end is squished in the poor attempt to shut it.
we follow a dark staircase tucked inside a corner. its steep, built at an irregular angle and made of rough cement. we find our room, and its a shoebox. a high ceiling with a dusty, diamond shaped window. no bathroom. no, youre lying. our fucking bathroom was communal.
wooyoung falls on our bed that looks like its made for one person and it immediately makes a loud sound that sounds like its planning to fall through the floorplan. he gives me a terrified look as he stays ummoving.
“so this is it,” i say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
this is what i chose. somehow, i preferred san’s apartment.
“i dont usually stay in places like this,” he tells me.
“a fugitives luxury,” i say dryly. “at least we got a place, even though that old fart fucking made a fortune on us.”
i look at him seriously.
“what is our next move?”
wooyoung leans forward and his face changes, and i see a glimpse of him. that wooyoung who pointed a gun at me. i swear im not imagining things, his entire eyes change.
“we meet up with san’s contact,” he says. “i need weapons.”
“who is he?”
“cant get too much details, out of protection reasons. but the guys name is kang yeosang,” he tells me. “hes supposed to sort me out. hes from this place, i cant pronounce it but…”
wooyoung takes out his burner, showing me on a very pixelated screen what the name is.
“aïn sebaâ,” i read out, and give him a look. “thats the address of a factory.”
wooyoung hums. “huh, thats a new one.”
i felt uneasy. “san wouldnt betray you, right?”
woo gives me a look like im crazy for even suggesting that. “no. why would you ask that?”
“because we’re walking unarmed into a factory where youre supposed to meet a man you dont know and hes supposed to give you guns,” i lay it out and wooyoung rubs his neck.
“i know its shady but, everythings gonna be shady from now on, sweetheart,” he says. and i dont correct him on the petname. at this point, the fear thats sticking to my stomach lining is overbearing. i take off my headscarf and rip the bob off as well, flopping down next to him. the bed threatens us with a low screech.
i lay down on his lap and he rubs my face, looking down at me almost apologetically.
“we made it to morroco,” he says quietly. “thank you for coming with me.”
where else would i have gone. i dont say anything to him, only give him a quarter of a smile and hold his hand to the side of my face, folding my fingers in his.
now, the real shit starts.
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I’m planning on writing a smut. Please vote on who it should be about on these Ateez members.
San
Seonghwa
Wooyoung
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throwback to when i once genuinely believed that san was the group translator when i first got into gayteez
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The Song Series
Nobody’s You - Dylan Brady
ATEEZ of San
You’d known San for years; you’d grown up together in the quaint streets of Namhae. He was the one that would face up to your bullies, despite his small stature and timid nature. You were the one that would borrow the five dollars out of your parents’ wallet to sneak out past bedtime to buy snacks for the two of you as you ate them at the skatepark.
No matter the situation, it’d always end the same; the cute dimples adorning San’s cheeks as you rested your head on his shoulder, looking up into his soft, crescent-shaped brown eyes.
While it appeared more, it truly didn’t surpass what felt like a sibling relationship to the both of you.
[[MORE]]It’s this friendship that had survived thick and thin that alerted you to the signs. You hadn’t been able to meet for two weeks, the toll of both of your jobs creating minimal time for you to continue the tradition of late-night snacks before crashing at your apartment or his dorm. After all, he was an idol, and your job was beginning to demand more and more.
Yet, you weren’t oblivious to how distant he sounded even over texts. How his emojis weren’t quite San emojis, how the messages weren’t as messily put together as how San would write them, how the sparse phone calls didn’t have his contagious laugh deafening your ear drums. It was this that worried you.
You’d messaged Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung, all asking if he was okay. They’d all responded that, while he was a little distant and not quite at the same level of excitement as usual, he was just tired from the increase in practising and training for their world tour. You had thanked them, taking their word for it. Yet, it hadn’t settled the worry that something was wrong.
You grabbed your phone off the hall table and the jacket hanging beside it, clinging onto your keys, and shoving your feet into the shoes that lay haphazardly near your door. You pulled the door open, slipping out before locking it. You shoved the keys into your jean pocket before walking down the hall, towards the elevator.
The weather was miserable, the heavy rain and stormy weather now easing off slightly. The roads were slick with water, the puddles scattering along the road when hit by the moving cars. You pulled the hood of your jacket further up your head, tilting your chin down to avoid the raindrops directly hitting your face.
The company was a small distance from your apartment, and despite the miserable weather, you decided to walk it. You watched as lights changed colour, the traffic flowed, and everyone else got on with their life.
The city life wasn’t where you had expected to end up. Yet, you had promised to support San through his dream, and you’d only found it a minor sacrifice to leave your childhood home for the big city. You’d always be there for him, just like how he’d always been there for you.
“Hey, what’s the long face for?” You sat down heavily, a pack of gummy bears landing ungracefully in your lap.
San kicked his legs gently against the concrete ramp of the empty skatepark. He played with his fingers, the movements maintaining his full interest. He sighed, stopping his fidgeting.
“What if they don’t like me or I don’t do well?” His voice was low and meek.
You shifted to look at him, opening the bears quickly, digging in the packet before pulling one out to give to him. He took it, gently squeezing it. Green. His favourite flavour. It brought a small smile to his face, yet it didn’t stick.
“What if I never see you again…”
You dropped the bears next to you, sighing gently. You turned his chin, waiting until his eyes met yours.
“San, you’re the most talented person I know. Sometimes you tell me, you wish you had blue eyes. But if you saw the beautiful brown eyes looking back at you, you’d know what it’s like to have the words stolen out of your mouth. Your beauty is reflected in your talent; you put everything into anything. Your voice is angelic, your personality is heart-warming, and your spirit is inspiring. San, no one will not like you because your you. Your San, and no one can hate that.”
He smiled softly at your words, moving to take the hand that previously was occupied by the bears.
“And you don’t have to worry about not seeing me again; sorry to break it to you, but we’re stuck together. I’m always here to support you, I’d even move to Seoul for you.”
You walked past security, their small nods of recognition allowing you into the building. You veered off to the reception desk, pulling a small smile on your lips as the lady behind the desk looked up.
“Is ATEEZ currently in a schedule?”
She smiled, looking back at her computer to check group schedules. You waited patiently, the only sound between you being the clicks and taps of the mouse and keyboard. A small hum left the receptionists lips before looking back at you.
“They’re scheduled for individual time at the moment. Some have dance practice, others are in lessons, or the studio. Are you looking for one in particular? San?”
Most of the staff in the company knew you, either by face or name. You’d always been there for San, turning up at random times to give him things he’d asked for, doing favours, or as a distraction to make him have a break.
The other members all loved having you around too. You’d join Wooyoung and Yunho’s antics, helped clean up after them with Seonghwa, listened to Jongho and tried to give him some intelligible feedback, been the shoulder for Hongjoong to complain about certain things, sat and chilled in comfortable silence with Yeosang, and became the designated bug killer for Mingi despite being scared shitless by them as well.
They all appreciated you, and more often than not, you found yourself being their personal motivator, hyper, and someone to talk to. While you’d never expected yourself to be that role to anyone but your best friend, you weren’t complaining. Over the years, they’d become like your family.
You nodded, to which she promptly told you he would most likely be training in a practice room. You nodded again, heading to the elevator to travel to the floor occupied with ATEEZ’s rooms.
The trip was short before you were standing in front of a room you had guessed one of them was in, evident through the loud music escaping from the room. You knocked hesitantly, and waited for a loud come in. The music had stopped as you pushed the door open, revealing a sweaty Wooyoung, Yunho, and Mingi. You smiled as they all buoyantly greeted you.
“What are you doing here?” Mingi plonked himself on the floor in the middle of the room, sprawling out like a starfish. Wooyoung quickly followed suit.
“Please tell me you smuggled something good in. I’m starving, I’m thirsty, I ache, and I need a good break.” Wooyoung complained, moving his head to look at you expectantly. You laughed.
“Sorry Woo, I didn’t quite think about that in my quick decision to come.” He pouted at your words. “I’ll go down and get you something later?” He just nodded slowly.
“It’ll have to do.” He sighed dramatically, a hand over his forehead in mock exasperation.
“In answer to your question Mingi, I’m looking for San…”
Yunho came up to you after fiddling with his phone. He carefully noticed your drawn expression.
“Is everything okay?”
You turned to look at him, nodding. “Yeah, just thought I’d come and see him… We’ve both been busy.”
He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t want to pry, settling for a single nod.
“I think he’s in the single studio at the end of the hall.”
You thanked them, turning towards the door, exiting with a small, teasing ‘have fun’. The last you heard was Wooyoung yelling to remind you to bring something back after you had talked to San.
You smiled slightly to yourself as you walked down the hall. You loved the guys; they always managed to lift your mood.
You paused in front of the small studio; the only hint of use was the quiet shuffling in the room.
You knocked once again, your hand pausing for a few seconds before touching the wood. The shuffling sounds stop, the room becoming silent. Your heart stopped for a few seconds, scared you’d disrupted him. You knew if he was on a roll he got annoyed if someone interrupted. You sighed when no acknowledgement was made.
“San?” You called out hesitantly. No reply. You knew he was there, and it scared you. “I’m coming in, is that okay?”
Again, you got no response. You knew at this point something was wrong. He either wanted to be alone, even ignoring you, or was pissed at something.
What you didn’t expect was to walk in to San leaning against the mirrored wall, his knees to his chest, head buried into his hands, and his body shaking slightly. You frowned, closing the door gently before walking slowly towards him.
“San? What’s wrong?” You slide down next to him, moving to pull him slightly into you.
The action alone had him removing his hands from his face and finding yours, the sobs becoming louder. You looked at his face, his eyes red, cheeks stained by the trails of the tears, and hair a mess. You held his hands tighter, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to calm down.
“Ev-everyone exp-ects me to be perf-ect. I c-can’t, I can’t d-dance, s-sing, my v-visuals a-aren’t enough…”
You hushed him as the tears grew in intensity. You cradled him gently, his much larger frame shrinking into your smaller one. The vibrations of his body shook yours, and you leaned more into the wall to support him.
“San, nobody expects anything but your best. No one expects perfect, but the absolute best you put in and effort.
"You hate your imperfections, and both I and Atiny know that’s delusional. They’re what make you, you. Your dimple is beautiful, and I know you’ve been trying to hide it lately. San, you’re beautiful. Do you remember that night before you left Namhae?”
He shakingly nodded, the tears slowly diminishing with your words.
“You always told me you wanted blue eyes, that brown ones were boring. But you didn’t know just how much I loved looking at those brown eyes every day. The ones that held the world in them, all your ambitions, your passions and love. They’re you, San.”
He sniffed, burying his head into your shoulder, hiding his bloodshot eyes from you. You shifted to have a comfier hold on him.
“You should’ve told me earlier San. Your messages weren’t you; you didn’t talk the same, and your laugh wasn’t as contagious. Trying to change doesn’t suit you San - because the San I know is already perfect. The San I know flirts, bites his lip when he’s nervous, and has a habit to commentate everything in third person to hype everyone up like a TV show.”
He lifted his head to look at you, showing the tears had stopped and he was listening to you intently. His heads squeezed yours gently.
“I’m sorry-” His voice was small and broken, still thick with the tears.
“Don’t apologise to me, Sannie.” You leaned in to connect your foreheads, a habit you’d done since you were children. “I never believed in perfection, always believed nobody’s perfect. We can agree to disagree, but San, they’re true.” You cupped his cheeks, one finger poking where his dimple would be.
“Cause nobody’s you.”
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I made this San pfps, free to use!
If you have any requests for pfps like these, send me the overlay and icons and I’ll make them! I hope you have a lovely day. ^^
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i bought the ateez in your fantasy golden hour album and i got 3 yunho photocards out of 4 💔💔i love him but maaaaaaaannnnn but i did get the mingi polaroid which im very happy about 😝😝anyways just buy the album cause it has 2 amazing posters
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02:48
a/n: i haven’t posted in a while… oopsies!
pairing: non-idol! san x fem! reader
content: fluff
word count: 1.5k
san wakes up to you peppering kisses on his forehead and cheeks.
“hi sannie.” you say smiling softly at him as you brush some hair out of his face.
“baby? what time is it?” he asks, his voice raspy with sleep.
“two forty-eight” you say, glancing at the small alarm clock next to you. he looks out the window; the stars in the sky invisible due to the light pollution of the city. the room dimly lit up by the blue-white lights along the skyline.
“why so early? is something wrong?” he asks, yawning between his questions. he rests his hand on your cheek; still half asleep but making sure you were okay.
“nothing’s wrong… and i’m sorry to wake you up, but i can’t sleep and i really want snacks from 7-eleven… and the last time i went without you, you got upset and said it was too dangerous for me to go alone at night and you made me promise you that i would wake you up the next time i wanted to go.” you rambled– fiddling the rings on your fingers– feeling bad for disrupting his sleep.
he was waking up now; his brain processing your words. he sat up and checked his phone.
“okay, baby…” he mumbles as he sets his phone down. he grabs one of your hands to stop your anxious fiddling. he gives it a gentle squeeze before continuing, “but it’s like -8℃ right now, so you need to put on a warmer jacket.”
he gets out of bed and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants and a black hoodie as you grab your jacket out of the closet. neither of you turn a light on since the city lights outside your window light the room up well enough and your eyes have adjusted to the low lighting. you rummage through your purse to grab your wallet, when he stops you.
“hey, what are you doing? you’re not paying.” his tone is serious and he furrows his eyebrows at you like you’re crazy for even thinking you would.
you turn around, as though you were caught red-handed. “what do you mean? why can’t i pay? after all, i woke you up…” you slightly shift on your feet– your wallet in your hand– still feeling bad for waking him up and making him get out of the warm comfort of your shared bed.
“there’s no way in hell i’m letting you pay. i’m the one who told you to wake me up.” he steps closer to you.
“why not? it’s only gonna be like 10,000 won, max.” you shrug, hoping you’ll convince him by reminding him how cheap the snacks will be.
he gets even closer. his body a couple inches from yours. takes your wallet out of your hand and tosses it onto the bed. “exactly. 10,000 won. it’s cheap. you don’t need to worry about paying for it.” he gives you a soft peck on the lips and softly rubs your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “stop feeling bad, baby– seriously.” he smiles at you. his eyes crinkle slightly and his dimples show. “now, let’s go get snacks.” he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead. you look up at him with a small smile, your guilt melting away. he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers together and leads you out of the bedroom.
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you both make the trek through the cold; the normally short walk feeling long due to the chill in the air. san holds your hand in the pocket of his coat. he likes to hold your hand like this. he knows you run cold in general and given the weather, it gives him an excuse to hold you tighter and keep you closer. he subconsciously rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.
once you both make it inside, san grabs a basket before you both beeline to different sections of the store: he makes his way to the cold food section and you go towards the sweet potatoes— your favorite snack. you add one to the basket once you meet san in the ramen section. leaning your head on san’s shoulder as you both try to decide on which flavor of ramen you guys want. the millions of options make it difficult, since you’re already an indecisive person. after a few moments, you pick up two options before turning to san.
“should i get kimchi or cheese?” you hold up the two buldak bowls.
“you can get both, after all it is 2+1. you can save the other one for later, or i can eat it if you change your mind.” he says putting his flavor of choice (carbonara) in the basket. you place both instant ramen bowls into the basket next to the kimbap san picked up when you were getting your sweet potato.
“thoughts on drinks?” you stare up at him batting your eyelashes.
“of course we need drinks, baby. i think i want strawberry milk.” he said smiling at you, thinking about how silly you are to think he would say no.
“oooh. i might go with banana this time. i’ve been craving it recently.” you link your arm with his as you both make your way to the cold drinks.
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once you are back home, you both immediately change back into your pajamas. you both decide to turn only the stove light on in the kitchen, mostly because you prefer the soft warm glow over the harsh overhead lighting the main light gives. together, you make your ramen before bringing the snacks to the couch.
you turn the tv on as san opens his kimbap.
“wanna watch clips of the backpacker chef? they’re pretty short, so we don’t have to stay awake too long to finish them.” you ask, staring at the screen.
“ah.” he says, his way of telling you to open your mouth as he tries to feed a bite of kimbap to you. you look over at the slice of kimbap between the chopsticks, before opening your mouth. your hand automatically gets into position: hovering under your mouth in case any of it falls.
“yeah, sure.” he says stuffing a bite of kimbap into his own mouth.
“thank you.” you say muffled, your mouth full. you do a little happy dance and you quietly tap your feet on the ground; excited to be eating yummy snacks while trying to be considerate of your downstairs neighbors.
he smiles at you, admiring your little happy dance.
the two of you watch various clips of the show as you eat your sweet potato. once you finish it, you take your first bite of ramen. “this hits the spot.” he says enthusiastically. he had already started eating his ramen— he eats a bit faster than you. he takes another bite and he scrunches his eyes shut. his eyebrows furrow and he nods his head fervently.
you nod, your mouth full of ramen too. “yeah, this was definitely the move.” you say pointing excitedly at the food on the coffee table. once you finish, you sigh and lean your back against the couch cushions watching the tv completely satisfied.
you snuggle closer to san so that your back is against his chest. together you take a few minutes to digest your food. he kisses the top of your head as you pat your now full stomach. after a few moments of san softly playing with your hair, you get sleepy.
you don’t realize you doze off in his arms until san moves to get up and collect all the trash to throw it away. you help him clean up by wiping the coffee table off before you turn the tv off.
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once in the bathroom, you both go to brush your teeth. you each pull out your toothbrushes and san carefully squeezes your shared toothpaste onto each toothbrush. you rest your head on his shoulder as he makes silly faces at you through the mirror
when you’re done, you both settle into bed comfortably full. “thank you for taking the time to come with me, sannie.” you say softly as you turn to face him. he turns to face you and pulls you close.
“of course, my baby.” even though you both have been together for a while now, your heart still swells when he calls you ‘his’. the darkness of the room hides your blush but you still hide your face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle into him. he breathes out a laugh at this and wraps his arm around you so that his hand can rest on the back of your head, softly securing you close to him. he hums quietly and kisses the top of your head again.
you doze off before you can say ‘good night’ or ‘i love you’ but he doesn’t mind, he’s just happy you can finally fall asleep. he feels his body relax into you.
“i love you so much.” he whispers, his eyes heavy with sleep. he closes his eyes. the last thing he remembers is the smell of your shampoo mixed with the faint smell of your perfume from earlier in the day.
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RUN!
ibispaintx, 22/01/2026
capa para uso pessoal
- desafio fora da zona de conforto por @anaharae-s : esse é o desafio 4. não tem nenhum gênero q eu n faria, então procurei por um estilo q eu n faria. e eu entendi pq q eu nunca tentei capar no estilo hq, eu me sinto UM LIXO de capista. parece q tudo fica muito ruim, muito desconexo. no final, deu tudo certo (só depende do ponto de vista). tô postando essa antes pq quis desabafar, mas já tenho outra capa do tema às cegas pronta. essa aqui foi a última do desafio q eu fiz e me deu um alívio pq a última vez q fiz e completei um desafio de capista foi em 2020/21 (eu tinha acabado de começar a capar). tô super orgulhosa de mim. POR FAVOR ME AJUDEM A MELHORAR NESSE ESTILO
