#day6 x reader fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forlix · 1 year ago

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

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solecize · 7 months ago

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fic announcement: through the mist | jungkook x reader

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time ten years of being one and the same with jungkook as the country's it couple is the perfect disguise for the reality of a tumultuous relationship hidden behind the scenes. ten years of lies and love and crawling back to one another. once shy, budding first love that blossomed before the weight of fame, the cracks begin to surface amidst your respective rises to stardom and navigation of your twenties. either finding euphoria or the end of the world, there's never any in between in existence for you and jungkook. as you build each other up and break each other down in front of millions of eyes, there is a crossroads ahead with words of "marriage" and "military" looming in the air - all while ignoring the price of fame breathing down your necks. this is the story of love and the lessons learned from the man you made your religion. and i wouldn't marry me either, a pathological people-pleaser who only wanted you to see her

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: idol!jungkook/female idol!reader and fictional versions of various idols 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. idol au, on-and-off relationship, angst, i swear there's fluff, and themes of first love, growing up, struggles with fame, and marriage (ish) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. portrayal of a toxic couple (implications of emotional abuse and control), infidelity, foul language, substance use 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. based off of "you're losing me" by taylor swift. this is a fictional portrayal of real-life people that implement some aspects of events that have occurred in real-life. the main character is a member of a fictional idol group. more warnings may be added as the story is written. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒. wip.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook fic #*** / through the mist.

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outofconcheol · 2 months ago

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Tune In For Love (KSM x GN!Reader)

pairing: college radio host!Seungmin x co-host!reader

genres/au/rating: sfw, mostly fluff, the mildest of angst, idiots to lovers, pg

summary: When you and Seungmin come up with a crazy new idea for your radio show, a week of chaos and unspoken feelings unfolds. As you learn more about relationships, will the two of you tune in for love? Or decide to shut it down completely?

warnings: swearing, fake exes trope, a playlist of seungmin coded songs mentioned, stupid amounts of pining, mentions of relationship drama, they almost kiss, then they actually kiss, one mild (joking ) threat of violence, Jeongin being the best wingman ever, RAIN, Ningning, Joshua, Cheol, and Day6 all make cameos

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy Seungmin day!! honestly this could have been a whole fic on its own but i'm happy with this cute little drabble! this draws some inspiration from the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon. our boy deserves all the love, i hope you enjoy!

“Okay everyone, this has been another week at The Sound FM, the university’s #1 radio station! ____ and Seungmin signing off!”

Your voice fades out to the tune of the hit that Seungmin had selected for the week, ears perking up at the rumble of the bass and the tick tick tick of the hi-hat. Another Day6 song. Congratulations this time.

“When will you admit that you’re Day6’s number one fan?”

“When you admit that you’re their number two,” Seungmin adjusts his glasses, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

(You were, but you would never give Seungmin the satisfaction.)

“That segment on how to deal with the stress of midterms turned out great! What should we do next?”

You fidget with your pen, tapping it against your notepad, twirling it around in your fingers, before moving to put it behind your ear–

Seungmin’s hands shoot out, fingers clasping around yours for a brief moment, and a shiver runs through you, despite the fact that it was sunny outside with not a cloud in sight.

“I had an idea, actually, well it’s not my idea, Jeongin brought it up..”

For however composed the two of you were on air, you turned into awkward rambling messes when the mics were off. It had always been like that though. You’d been hosting the show with Seungmin for the better part of a year and you still didn’t know why you felt shy around him, or why you’d barely progressed beyond simple acquaintances.

“There’s this girl that uh, he, yeah he wants to impress, so he was asking if our next segment could maybe have something to do with dating advice.”

“That is sooo much better than the segment on recycling tips I was planning,” you nudge him, oblivious to the way his ears turn red.

“Oooh but what if we make it spicy you know? Like approach relationships from a different angle?”

“What angle?” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck. “As far as I know, neither of us are in a relationship. I mean, right?”

“Right but no one else has to know that! What if we pretend that we’re exes, who broke up? Hindsight is always 20/20, people will eat that up!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the menace here,” Seungmin’s tone is deadpan but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me Min,” you giggle. “So, what do you say we put your charm to good use?”

“You think I’m charming ___?”

You miss the excitement in his tone, writing it off as enthusiasm for the whole absurdity of this plan.

“Who knows, Min! Maybe we’ll even find people! This is so exciting!”

Seungmin pauses briefly, a choked sound escaping his mouth, but you think you imagine it, watching him straighten and nod.

Laughter fills the studio as you bicker back and forth about what to include and how the next week would go. It was a risk, but you hoped it would pay off — both on the airwaves and maybe even for your stagnant love life. The possibilities were endless.

“Hello, and welcome to Tune in For Love! We are your hosts, ___ and Seungmin, and for the next week we’ll be tackling all your relationship questions and concerns!”

Your voice booms into the mic, echoing throughout the tiny studio, and you take a moment to mute yourself, heart pounding in your ears. Butterflies had begun to bubble up in your chest – you were really doing this.

“You ready for this?” Seungmin’s voice knocks you out of your daze, and you look over to see his lips twist into a lazy smile, running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck. Why did that make your stomach flip-flop?

You give him a shaky nod. It was probably just the rush of trying something new, so different from what you were used to. The simultaneous thrill and terror of dipping your toes into uncharted waters.

Seungmin unmutes the mic, his softer, more melodious voice reverberating into the windscreen. He’d make a great singer, you think. Maybe for your next segment you could convince him to croon on air.

“We’re your resident experts on dating, whether it's still in the early stages of puppy love, the cool cruising of the honeymoon phase, or the bitter sting of love gone wrong. We have all your answers, right here, right now on The Sound FM!”

“Trust me, we’ve had experience with all of those,” you chuckle.

The story just falls off your tongue – a tumultuous end to a relationship that had never existed, one full of angst and heartbreak that even the finest writer couldn’t think of. Seungmin interrupts you spontaneously to respond to your dramatic anecdotes with dry quips of his, and you can’t believe it — you actually sound like a couple. A real couple.

“How was I supposed to know you were allergic to garlic? You let me take you to an Italian restaurant on the first date!”

“As my boyfriend, you should have asked my best friend about my allergies! That’s like standard dating protocol,” you shoot back, making sure to smile so that Seungmin knows you’re not serious.

“Noted, I’ll keep that in mind for the next relationship,” Seungmin grunts, the air becoming thick with a tension you can’t pinpoint.

Clearing your throat, your fingers hover over the buttons of the soundboard.

“How about we take some listener calls instead?”

The line crackles to life, a caller named Ningning groaning about how her girlfriend forget their anniversary and didn’t even apologize.

“It’s an honest mistake,” Seungmin mutters.

“I don’t think so,” you counter, chewing your lip. “It’s important to be considerate of special moments like anniversaries, birthdays. It means you care. I mean Seungmin probably doesn’t even remember mine–”

“October 17th,” he interrupts you, and you go rigid. How did he even know?

I asked Jeongin, he mouths, and it only leaves you more confused. Why would he need to know that? It leaves you more embarrassed that you don’t know his exact day, only that it was sometime in September.

Ningning rambles on, thanking you both for the added perspective and resolving to make things right with her girlfriend. You feel your heart warm at her determination, amazed at the effect that you and Seungmin had already managed to have on your listeners.

Seungmin closes out the show, the easygoing and carefree chords of Polaroid Love ringing into the mic, and you think to yourself, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As the sun sets, campus comes alive, buzzing with excitement. You glance out the window, watching students filter out of the library, walking towards the commons for a cup of coffee, or hugging outside their dorms. A deep pang of longing hits your gut, not sure whether its from watching them outside or the fact that you’re cramped here in the tiny studio, band posters all over the walls, and Seungmin is playing Love You For A Long Time, Maggie Rogers’ ethereal voice filling the space between you.

“Had to ease you into our next listener call,” Seungmin grins into the mic. “This one is – ouch. It might hit home for some of us, I mean you all.”

“Hi, ___ and Seungmin? I’m Joshua, a senior. I’m calling because I have a dilemma – my best friend Seungcheol just started dating my ex, and I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand I wanna be happy for them, but on the other hand, I’m a mess. What would you do if you found out one of you was dating someone else?”

“Oh.” Seungmin breathes out, and he remains there, lips parted like he’s frozen. An awkward silence falls over the studio, and you’re sure Joshua is blinking on the other end of the line, wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m not sure,” you shudder, thinking of the hypothetical situation. But it wasn’t so hypothetical. You and Seungmin were free to date people. There was nothing stopping you. But it still felt wrong somehow.

“I would give yourself some space, Joshua. Take time to confront your own feelings about this, and when you’re ready you can decide what to do. Let yourself heal first.”

“That’s a good answer,” Seungmin whispers, and you panic, muttering out a rushed goodbye before cutting the broadcast.

“Wow,” you sigh. “That was, I–, I guess I didn’t think of that when I suggested this.”

“Think of what?” Seungmin’s eyes glimmer with interest, and he leans in closer.

“How shit would get so deep? Like how would I actually react if that happened to me? I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Sometimes this feels almost like we’re not pretending,” Seungmin murmurs, a strained laugh escaping his throat, a mask for the change in his tone.

You’re not sure what you want to say, but it feels like you should say something. The moment hangs heavy in between you two, and you don’t remember how Seungmin got so close, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Seungmin, I–”

“You had a piece of hair in your face,” he responds, straightening up to stretch his arms. “It’s late, want me to grab you an americano?”

Shaking your head, you manage to muster up a weak response, telling him to go ahead without you. He nods slightly, before throwing his jacket on and slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

An unsettling dilemma dawns on you – this was supposed to be an act, but why did it feel so real?

“You know,” Jeongin’s loud chewing echoes in the dining hall, Seungmin bristling as he watches his friend stuff five french fries into his mouth at once. “I should revoke your roommate privileges for this stunt you pulled. I thought you were grumpy before, but breaking up with ____ has taken it to a whole new level.”

Seungmin scowls, cursing under his breath at Jeongin. Yanking his headphones out of his ears, the lamenting tune of These Days by Wallows cuts off abruptly.

Outside the rain patters, echoing his stormy emotions. Over the course of the past week, his mood had felt like he was on the world’s most nausea-inducing roller coaster ride. The highs were the times he got to spend with you in the studio, cracking jokes and watching your eyes shine as the two of you came up with the next devious plot for the show. The lows were the knot in his stomach every time someone would call in with a question that hit a little too hard.

After this week, he was glad the show would end, and maybe you guys could go back to the way things were before. That easy, comfortable dynamic that always existed between you two.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin sees the way his eyes zone out, like he can read Seungmin’s mind. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolute bullshit. You’re in too deep, hyung.”

“I’ll fucking punch you,” Seungmin hisses. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just spill to ___ that this isn’t some game for me? That my feelings are real? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hyung–”

A gasp echoes from behind him, and Seungmin turns to see you behind him. Your lip trembles, and you lock eyes with him, a tear escaping the corner before you’re turning on your heels, running out of the dining hall.

Seungmin stands there, frozen with the weight of what he’d just confessed, heart sinking to his shoes. All of a sudden, he feels a sharp jab to his arm, Jeongin’s fist colliding with it.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

The rain pelts the back of Seungmin’s neck as he runs, indifferent to the fact that he’s probably soaked to the bone, slipping and sliding along the cobblestone. He can make out your figure storming ahead furiously, like you can’t get away fast enough, and he speeds up, panic in his voice.

“___, wait! Please stop.”

His voice turns hoarse from all the yelling, and he’s about to give up, turn back in defeat (and go sock Jeongin cry into his friend’s shoulder), when you stop under a streetlight, your figure slumping.

Seungmin is by your side in moments, not caring that he takes your hands in his, blowing on them to give you warmth.

“Y-you d-don’t even h-have an umbrella, w-what were y-you thinking?” he chatters, and he watches your lips turn up in a smile. But your eyes remain downcast.

“What about you?” you whisper, and Seungmin cocks his head, looking at you in confusion.

“I left my jacket in the dining hall with Jeongin—”

“No Seungmin, I mean what about you?” your voice croaks desperately.

Seungmin takes a deep breath. There was no use in pretending anymore.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” he chokes out.

You take his hands in yours and Seungmin feels dizzy. The cold rain no longer bothers him, warmth filling his veins from the inside out.

“You think?” you sniffle.

“I know. I know I’ve been in love with you, since the day you walked into the studio and pitched your ideas for five-star dorm meals.”

“I really like your hands,” you blurt out, and Seungmin’s eyes widen in shock. That was not the response you’d been expecting.

“They’re warm when mine are always cold, I like the way they look when they’re holding a pencil, or when you bring me a cup of coffee. I like your voice too – the way you sing along to Day6 when you think no one is listening, or your annoying little laugh–”

“It is not annoying–”

You press a finger to his lips, and Seungmin thinks he might just evaporate.

“Not now, Min. I’m trying to say something here. What I’m trying to say is that if there’s anything this whole week has taught me, it’s how much I like you. How much I want to have those crappy problems that everyone complains about with you, how much I want to celebrate birthdays with you, and anniversaries with you, and how I think I might collapse inside if I ever saw you with someone else—”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to interrupt you now, cold lips colliding with yours, the initial shock replaced with heat. Your hands burrow into his hair and he draws you closer, hands weaving around your waist. The startled, frantic sounds of your breathing did nothing to help the pounding of his heart, and he wonders if you can hear it too.

In this moment, Seungmin never wants to let go, holding you steady against him even when you part, your breath fanning in the cold air.

“I just, I, needed to be honest. No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” he smiles against your lips, nudging his nose against yours.

The wet slap of shoes against the pavement interrupts you both, turning to see the Jeongin behind you, Seungmin’s jacket in his arms. He takes in the sight of you two wrapped around each other, a smug grin lighting up his entire face.

“Hell yeah! It worked!”

“___ and Seungmin signing off, this is Tune in For Love on The Sound FM, and we’ve loved having you this week!”

The air in the studio buzzes with a different kind of excitement – the dreamy notes of Hypnotized by The Weston Estate filling up the room.

“Before we go, we have something to share with you–” your voice wobbles, and Seungmin reaches out immediately, squeezing your hand.

“Please send your email petitions in so our show doesn’t get canceled, but we’ve been faking it this whole time. We’re not actually exes.”

You can almost hear the collective gasp across campus, the soundboard going crazy as it lights up with calls.

“We are, as of yesterday, the happiest, and newest–, couple on campus,” Seungmin beams, his pride echoing through the mic and your heart lurches at how right it feels to be his.

You hit the answer button, the lines flooding with congratulations and well-wishes to the news.

“Congrats!” Ningning’s voice echoes. “I always thought you were the cutest together.”

“You make me want to find someone of my own now,” Joshua says in the background, and the studio fills with you and Seungmin’s laughter.

When the last call goes through, Jeongin gives you both a thumbs up, shutting off the soundboard.

You turn to Seungmin, heart racing.

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” he says, half-laughing.

“Me neither,” you reply, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m really glad we did. It feels… right, you know?”

“Thanks for being part of this with us,” he echoes through the airwaves, his voice sincere. “We’re excited to see what’s next—together. And while the show may be over, we hope you’ll still tune in for love every single week — no matter the topic.”

“Next – how to cook a five star meal worthy of any restaurant using just your dorm microwave…”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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dearly-somber · 11 months ago

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Fly Me To The Moon | kyh | day6

-> pairing. idol!younghyun x non-idol!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, established relationship

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 689

-> warnings. None!

-> a/n. Brian’s voice >>>

-> collection. songfic

-> started. Sept. 12th, 2020 @ 22:25

-> fin. ???

-> edited. Aug. 21st, 2021 @ 22:15

It was dark, and you were outside in the town square, sitting on a chair as you busked with some strangers.

"Fly me to the moon," you sang, smiling at the boy grinning at you through the crowd, unable to help the charisma that showed while you sang the song.

Throughout the song, Younghyun was sure that he fell for you all over again, his eyes watching you fondly. He had met you through Jae, who had introduced you as 'my sister's best friend'. You were around Sungjin's age, and you absolutely adored their music.

You had also mentioned that Dowoon was your favorite, because he was the youngest and cute as hell. Brian hand't been to happy about that conversation.

You finished the song off beautifully, staring at Brian as you sang in a gorgeous honey-voice.

"I," You smiled at him softly.

"Love," You tilted your head cutely.

"You..." You winked at him with a grin, bowing as the people around started applauding your performance.

"Waaah. Noona, that was great!" Younghyun said, welcoming you back with a hug and kiss to your cheek.

You giggled, scrunching up your face as his lips touched your cheek before he pulled away, your arms wrapping around his torso.

"Thank you."

He smiled at you stupidly, taking your hand and leading you onto one of the carts that were driving around the place, asking the driver to take you back to your hotel.

You leaned against the back of the cart as Brian leaned against the car-railing, looking out at the brightly illuminated city that was full of life and buzzing with activity.

You smiled, leaning up and off of the back of the cart to give him a warm back hug, leaning your cheek against him and sighing contentedly.

"What? You can't be tired already, can you?" He asked playfully, turning around to wrap his arms around your waist, looking down at you lovingly.

You shook your head with a pout, leaning your chin on his chest. “Not at all. I just felt like giving the guy I like a hug."

He snickered, pecking your lips and pulling away with a shit eating grin. "I thought you loved me, noona?"

"Eat shit, you brat—" You huffed angrily at him, turning away with a pout.

“Noona wait, I was kidding!"

•••

You put the key to your hotel in the keyhole, unlocking the door with a giant koala clinging to you, his head nuzzled into your shoulder. You hung up the keys and lightly pushed Younghyun off to hang up your coat. He made sure to remove his coat, too, the turtleneck he was wearing showing just the tips of his fingers.

You had managed to kick off your shoes before Brian grabbed you again, his own shoes somewhere in the corner of the room. You tried to get him off as you started nearing the bed, huffing and puffing with your effort. You turned around suddenly, yelling at him tiredly before squealing as your knees hit the back of the bed, in turn making you loose your footing.

"오모!—" You grunted as you landed on your back, Younghyun hovering over you. He watched you with slowly dilating pupils. You chuckled, leaning up to kiss him slowly, pulling away just as you noticed him trying to deepen the kiss, making him chase after you hastily. He whined when you 'tsked' at him, smirking playfully when you pushed him off and moved further up the bed.

"Not now, Foxy. I'm tired." He pouted at you childishly, nevertheless getting in next to you and wrapping himself around you. He sighed comfortably, pressing his nose into the nook of your neck before softly singing the same song from the busking station to you. You closed your eyes blissfully, smiling as you heard him whisper: 'I, love, you...'

You turned around, kissing his nose and brushing a strand of hair from his face.

"I love you too, my little fox." He smiled at you, kissing you before making you nuzzle your head under his chin, playing with your hair until the two of you fell asleep.

#day6 x reader #day6 fanfiction #day6 fluff #day6 imagines #day6 young k #day6 scenarios #day6 #kang younghyun x reader #young k x reader #brian kang x reader #brian kang fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #ao3 #archive of our own #young k fluff #kang younghyun fluff

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withleeknow · 5 months ago

Text

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

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starlost-mochi-x · 3 months ago

Note

day6 got a comeback~ what about reader and seungmin fangirling about it and listening to the album togheter?

...so the only reason i know day6 is because of lee know's 'love me or leave me' cover lol. also i know nothing about albums (can you tell) anyway here you go, anon <3

band aid - kim seungmin

pairing: kim seungmin x reader

summary: you and seungmin listen to the new day6 album together

genre: fluff, idol! au, seungmin and reader both love day6, not proofread i couldn't be bothered, sue me

a/n: comments, likes, reblogs appreciated <3 divider from @wonjuii

"Seung, the album arrived!"

There's a bang from down the hallway, the sound of what is most likely your boyfriend tripping, a muttered curse word, and then the padding of hurried footsteps as Seungmin makes his way down the corridor. He appears in the living room, dressed in a tee and shorts. His toothbrush is hanging out of his mouth as he hastily runs his hands through his hair, trying to make himself look presentable.

You laugh. "You didn't have to run. I would have waited."

He opens his mouth to speak, the toothbrush slipping out. It clinks against the floor and Seungmin groans, making his way to the kitchen for paper towels. Returning, he wipes away the toothpaste foam from the floorboards and glances at the DAY6 album in your hands. You sit down and gesture to him, grinning at his cutely disheveled morning state.

"Go and wash up first. I'll wait."

Ten minutes and two cups of coffee later, you and Seungmin are sitting in the bedroom cross-legged, the album between you. You glance at each other before Seungmin reaches to tear off the thin, shiny, protective plastic. He picks up the photobook and begins flipping through it while you reach for the CD. The words 'BAND AID' stand out in bold black lettering and you tilt the CD from side to side, admiring it, just as Seungmin whistles, showing you a photo from the photobook. The smell of glossy magazine-type paper fills the room and you grin just as Seungmin reaches for the lyric sheets.

The lyric sheets are always his favourite part. Once, you bought a Stray Kids album, and Seungmin had sat with you, even if he already knew what was inside. He'd immediately reached for the lyric sheets, reading over them with wide, fascinated eyes. You'd simply laughed and left him to his devices, deducing that he was simply fond of the poetic lyricism skills involved, being a talented singer himself. Every album since then, Seungmin had always claimed the lyrics. But you never minded, having shown more interest in the photocards and stickers anyway.

It was a win-win situation.

You grin and peel off a holographic sticker, picking up your phone and sticking it to the case. Handing the sheet to Seungmin, you laugh as he does the exact same, selecting one carefully, even going so far to put a similar sticker in the exact same position as yours on his own phone case.

Sifting through the various album paraphernalia, you and Seungmin lock eyes just as the two photocards appear from the pile. Taking one, you hand the other to your boyfriend face down. Locking eyes, you grin, a little apprehensively. Your bias is Sungjin. His bias is Dowoon. There's a good chance either you or him will pull your bias. Either that, or you'll fight over the photocards (Seungmin always lets you have the photocards anyway, so you're not too bothered). The tradition is to hold the photocards face down, and then count down from three before flipping them. Readjusting yourself in your cross-legged position, you grin.

"Three," you say. "Two. One."

You flip the photocards. Seungmin pulled Sungjin. You pulled Dowoon. There's a moment of stunned silence between the both of you before Seungmin screeches, lunging for the photocard of his bias, still in your grip. There's a brief kerfuffle of shrieking and flapping before Seungmin settles back into his spot, an iron grip on the little card of Dowoon. You grin, cheeks flushed from the sudden exertion, and look down at the card of Sungjin. You thump Seungmin on the shoulder.

"You could literally go and ask DAY6 themselves for a free album," you whine, reminding him. "No need to get so frantic about it."

"No."

You flop onto your back, gazing up at Seungmin as you lay your legs across his lap. "You're literally friends with your bias."

Seungmin sighs and slips the photocard into his phone case, glaring at you as you eye the card of Dowoon. He reaches across and puts his phone on the bed, out of your grasp. Just in case.

"Don't even think about it," he huffs.

You roll your eyes at his overdramatic behaviour. "You might as well join DAY6 at this rate. You own more of their albums than you do of your own group," you gesture to the bookshelf in the corner of the bedroom. True to your word, at least two of the shelves are filled with DAY6 merchandise and albums. Stray Kids' albums make up about half a shelf below them, and PuppyM is beginning to collect dust on the shelf.

Seungmin whines. "But I'm in Stray Kids."

"I thought you were in the building," you giggle as you pick up the album, yelping as it's snatched out of your grip.

"No," Seungmin grumbles, hugging the DAY6 album to his chest. "Seungmin in the album."

You laugh and thwack him in the chest, nimble fingers picking up the CD.

"Let's go listen to the tracks."

a/n: seungmin in the album yall

#seungmin #skz scenarios #starlost mochi fics #stray kids fanfic #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz #starlost mochi #stray kids #seungmin skz #stray kids seungmin #skz smau #skz fics #skz seungmin imagines #seungmin x reader #seungmin stray kids #seungmin fluff #seungmin fanfiction

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gluion · 25 days ago

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[teaser] missing home — kim gyuvin

kim gyuvin x reader

PART OF THE BOOK OF US SERIES wc — 0.8k, full fic expected to be 15-20k (target publishing date around mid-late november) genre & warnings — strangers to lovers to exes to lovers, fluff, angst, crack, small town au, high school then college au, eumppappa is major character, familial issues, pov switching, gyuvin just wants to learn how to plays drums & reader just wants to stay at the animal shelter, minor character death playlist/inspired by — “i smile” by day6 notes — i needed people to be excited with me okay </3

want to be part of the series taglist? fill out the form! masterlist

synopsis — when kim gyuvin is forced to volunteer at an animal shelter, the last thing he expects is to be compared to a rescued dog. (and to fall in love with you.)

the last thing gyuvin expects to receive from his mom is a volunteer recruitment flyer, especially one from an animal shelter. he doesn’t know why she has one. the household never had animals, limiting his interactions to ones with his cousin’s pet every visit. yet, in his hands is a piece of paper with the words, volunteers needed, written in bold and uppercase.

“mom, i don’t understand why you’re asking me to volunteer.” gyuvin complains as he leans on the wooden dining table. his fingers trace against the grooves as he watches his mom in the kitchen.

the smell of freshly cut cabbage and kimchi paste lingers in the air. despite the noisy fan, a familiar trot record plays from the living room. as his mom sways to the melody, she coats each leaf with a spicy paste. during these moments, she never pays attention to what gyuvin has to say. the kitchen feels like her own bubble, where she’s able to enjoy the feel of a wooden spatula in her hand and taste every dish.

“mom.”

“what?” she doesn’t spare him a glance.

gyuvin sighs before looking at the flyer once more. “why are you making me volunteer?”

“it’s good, honest work. plus, it deals with animals. don’t you like playing with your cousin’s cat?” she sets the cabbage away in a container.

“i do, but i don’t understand why that means i should volunteer at an animal shelter.”

she looks at him before saying, “because i’d rather you to do something useful with your time than waste the weekends.”

he frowns at her accusations. “but mom, i study! and if i’m not studying, i’m resting.”

she scoffs at his words. “don’t be silly. on the weekends, you’re making all that noise in your room! i can’t rest.”

gyuvin hates whenever she said that. after all, where could he learn how to play the drums if not at the comfort of his room? although he might not have a real drum kit, resorting to cardboard boxes and metal lids, he truly believed he was getting the hang of playing drums. (even if it may not sound as great as a legitimate drum kit.)

“anyway, it’s final. you’re going to that animal shelter. today.”

“today?!” he springs up from the seat.

she hums before shutting the container close. “yes. i can’t stand all that metal clashing anymore. you’re making it hard to listen to the vinyl player.”

“but—”

“i mean it.” with a final, stern look from her, gyuvin finds himself defeated. if he argues any more, he’d only face even worse consequences.

gyuvin leaves with the crumpled flyer in his hand.

the animal shelter has become a staple in the small, quiet town by the bay. life seems to thrive, where barks overpower the waves that crash against rocks.

although gyuvin has never thought about adopting a pet, he thinks of himself as a frequent visitor to the shelter. given that it’s on the route going to school, it’s hard to miss the windows that display all the pets who chew on toys and bathe in the sunlight. he always waves at them before going on with his day with a smile.

yet, he stands in front of the building with sunken shoulders.

with a sigh, he swings the door open. there’s a series of barks that boom at his appearance, where cages rattle against walls. in the short silence, he hears a soft melody playing from the back. he walks on animal fur until he reaches the front desk. while there isn’t a bell for him to ring, he hopes the howls are enough to signal his presence, hoping for someone to come.

but what gyuvin doesn’t expect is for a dog to come running his way. they leap onto him, causing him to wrap his arms around the pet. as the canine wiggles in his arms, his heart races over fear.

maybe gyuvin isn’t the best with pets. after all, he only watched his cousin whenever she’d bathe her cat. gyuvin thinks these creatures are fragile, that even a meter drop could result in broken legs. “yah! yah! don’t fall!” he says as the canine continues to thrash around.

“eumppappa!”

and somehow, his heart drops as the dog leaps off. he shuts his eyes close, scared to hear their whimpering, only to the pitter-patter of paws against the floor. he watches the dog walk to the back of the building with their tail wagging.

“come here, you silly girl!” you come out with the same grey dog in your arms.

what gyuvin expects to be asked is about his visit to the shelter. he’s ready to pull out the flyer, his hand fishing for the crumpled paper in his pocket, only to hear a giggle escape you.

“wait a minute.” you glance between him and the dog in your arms, only for another laugh to leave you. “you look like eumppappa!”

gyuvin frowns. “i’m sorry?”

“look!” you raise the dog close to his face, allowing yourself to see a side-by-side comparison of him and the canine. “you look just like her!”

somehow, his mom giving him a flyer from the animal shelter isn’t the weirdest event to come out from today; the last thing he expected is to be compared to a rescue dog—especially from an animal caretaker.

networks taglist: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @zumblrnet @kstrucknet

series taglist: @slytherinshua @headhooner @dwcljh @acaciacore @m0rkfangirl

@zzurao @sseastar-main @blooqz @taylorluvation

zb1 permanent taglist: @deinsleeps @sofix-hc7

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #kstrucknet #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #kim gyuvin #kim gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin imagines #gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin fluff #zb1 angst #kim gyuvin angst #zb1 crack #kim gyuvin crack

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ashonheavenscloud · 3 months ago

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just us and the open road || h. jisung

⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ contents: han jisung x reader, fluff fluff fluff fluff, just a cute lil confession

⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ word count: 2.6K

⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ warnings: slightlyyy suggestive if you squint but not really lol

⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ a/n: another repost while i recover from all my travelling and work on other projects! this is old but still one of the ones i like the best. enjoy <3

now playing: i’m serious - day6

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’d been Jisung who’d insisted that the only proper way to start a road trip was a greasy bag of fast food.

Although it cut away from your already limited time, you agreed to stop at one of the joints along the way. Once the food was in your possession, the next step was getting out of the city. It was painfully slow, between the traffic and stoplights and the detour for food. You set up your phone for the music and sorted the food in the meantime; a chicken salad for you and a burger and fries for Jisung, although you snagged quite a few of the salty potato strips for yourself. At last the city began to melt away, and Jisung pulled onto one of the highways leading out of town. Buildings and little shops were replaced by wide stretches of country; tall grass, farmland and wide open air. Music filled the small vehicle as it sped forward, as if your little car was just as eager for this freedom as the two of you.

“Open the windows, baby!” Jisung crowed to no one in particular. Soon enough your hair was a mess in the wind, the sunroof was opened to the sky, and adrenaline was racing through every cell in your body. The very taste of freedom sailed along the breeze, refreshing in every sense of the word. You glanced over to see Jisung grinning, hair tangled in the wind, crackling energy alight in his eyes as he laughed with enjoyment. Your stomach was instantly filled with butterflies, and you returned your attention back to the food before he could notice your flustered state.

“Thus starts,” you broke off a chunk of burger, holding it out for Jisung to take with his teeth. “The most epic car trip that will ever grace this fine country road.”

The plan was simple: drive as far as the two of you could, stop in the middle of nowhere to see the stars, and drive back to greet the sunrise. A sleepless night had never seemed so appealing.

“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” Jisung laughed between the food in his mouth, hands lightly gripping the steering wheel as he glanced at you, eyes turned to crescents of happiness. Gosh, you’d never seen him this light, as if leaving the city had momentarily relieved all of the burdens and responsibilities from his shoulders. That was exactly how you felt.

“This coming from you?”

“Touché.” He muttered, pouting as you poked his side. He yelped immediately, chiding, “I’m driving!”

You sat back in your seat, giggling as you stole another fry. He sighed dramatically. “I can’t wait till you’re in this seat.”

“Not for many long hours.” You teased, and Jisung snatched his fries from your grip with playful irritation.

You relented, swinging your legs up on the dashboard. Jisung glanced at you with a wry smile. “Where to?”

“Anywhere. Absolutely anywhere.” You responded, eyes on the blue, blue sky. As long as you were headed away from the city, you couldn’t care less where you were going.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jisung replied, and you knew he shared the exact same thoughts.

You’d always been like that, even as kids; completely in sync, as if you could read each other’s minds. It hadn’t taken long for him to become your closest friend.

Friend. Right.

You shoved the sudden, uninvited thought from your head and spoke, “How do you feel about Day6?”

“Is that even a question?”

You laughed, cranking up the music and letting it blast out of the speakers. Perfect for a road trip. Perfect for drowning out thoughts you couldn’t let cross your mind.

He’d been your friend for years, and these recent… butterflies were throwing your mind off balance. Why hadn’t you noticed how cute his smile was before? Why were you just realizing how very kissable his heart shaped lips seemed? Why did you even want to kiss him??

You caught yourself staring a second before Jisung did, quickly averting your gaze to the road, pretending to admire the scenery when in reality he was the only one you wanted to admire.

“What, like the view?” He teased, making your heart leap skyward.

Damn, so he had noticed.

“Just making sure you didn’t get anything on your face.” You replied, hoping he didn’t notice the blush heating your cheeks.

“Sureeee-” he yelped as you poked him again, grinning. “Jeez, you really can’t keep your hands-”

“Shut it, Han Jisung.” You interrupted, pulling back and looking forward again. The damned flirt in him… you really wished he meant it, but you could never tell with him. A mystery, that’s what Jisung was.

He only smirked, eyes returning to the road. You couldn’t lie and say you were more than a little disappointed, yet you weren’t sure why.

Foolish hope. He flirts with everyone, you’re nothing special.

You tried to push away those thoughts and feelings as the countryside flew by. Eventually, you closed your eyes to relax and listen to Jisung hum along with the music filtering from the speakers, breeze ruffling your hair. Sometimes you peeked a look towards him, focused on driving, and let yourself drink in his features. Round chestnut eyes, adorable cheeks, that particular mole that sometimes gave you the most ridiculous urge to kiss it. He nearly caught you once, but you closed your eyes in time, his face inked in your brain.

In the calm, you tried to pinpoint the moment your platonic feelings towards your best friend had flipped to romantic. There were so many moments that you considered: that time you’d been bedridden with cramps, and he’d been there in an instant with a huge supply of chocolate and his Netflix password to pass the time. Or that time you’d been frantically studying for an exam, and Jisung had stayed up half the night over Facetime helping you cram any last knowledge into your brain. Or was it in the small moments like this, just side by side in your natural rhythm, where you’d fallen for him.

Between the steady driving of the car and the soothing music, you must have fallen asleep because Jisung shook you awake when the sky was tinged with sunset orange and pastel pinks.

“I almost didn’t want to wake you up, but,” he grinned, almost mischievously. “It’s your turn to drive.”

…

The next few hours of driving were filled with enthusiastic banter and ridiculously loud singing. Despite the aging heavens, your energy levels remained high in the clouds as the car sped forward underneath a dark sky.

“...so she comes up to the counter, asks for whatever, and begins to flirt with me again.”

“Again?” You laughed at Jisung’s exasperated expression, recounting the girl who couldn’t seem to leave your friend alone.

“She really can’t seem to take the hint that I’m not interested.” He sighed, falling farther down in his seat.

You glanced at him from behind the wheel before turning your eyes back to the road, grinning, “Why not? She seems nice.”

“Oh God.” He groaned, making you laugh.

“Well, who are you interested in then?” You spoke the words before thinking about them, and instantly wanted to swallow them back up when Jisung turned his eyes to you and you had to try extra hard not to turn beet red.

“Secret.” He replied sweetly.

You sighed dramatically, to which he stuck out his tongue.

“What about you, huh?” He nudged your arm, and without warning your heart jumped in her chest. “Who’s the lucky-”

“No one.” You responded firmly, and Jisung chuckled.

“Now with an answer that fast, I know you have a crush.”

He laughed again at the redness spreading over your cheeks. Dammit.

“Well, I’m not telling either.”

“Fair enough.” Jisung propped his feet up on the dashboard, leaning back to close his eyes. “But I will find out.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say to that, so you just let Jisung nod off as you focused once more on the road.

Well, mostly focused-but how could you not get distracted by his soft little sighs in his sleep, and the small pout on his lips?

His extremely kissable lips-

You shook your head, trying to rid it of the thought, but when it returned you allowed a few small seconds to imagine it. Imagine you could kiss him, and what it might feel like to have him kiss you back. With the boy asleep beside you, it almost seemed possible.

At last, when you were certain you were in the absolute middle of nowhere, you slowed the car. Jisung must have sensed the change in pace; he shifted to stretch, and slowly opened his bleary eyes.

Where you normally would have teased his dazed-ness, you found yourself simply staring, because he was rubbing his tired eyes and yawning and you couldn’t help but think of how adorable that was-

“Ready to see the stars?” You whispered at last, and that seemed to bring Jisung out of his sleepiness.

His eyes met yours with a glimmer of excitement. “Absolutely.”

With Jisung’s assistance, you crawled through the sunroof, hoisting yourself onto the roof of the car. After helping Jisung up as well, you turned your eyes to the glittering sky that immediately took your breath away. Without the obstruction of city lights, the sky was mapped with billions of stars that your awestruck eyes attempted to drink in, praying such a gorgeous sight would remain imprinted in your memory for as long as possible. The faint outline of galaxies trailed through the shimmering diamonds above. You swore you’d be content to stare at them every night for the rest of your life.

Maybe even for the rest of eternity, if the boy beside you was there, too. His eyes were almost glowing in the starlight, and a small smile of amazement flickered on his countenance. You didn’t realize you were staring until he caught you-damn, you were doing way too much of that today.

Instead of the anticipated teasing, however, he just smiled wider. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nodded. “So worth the trip.”

“Are you cold at all?”

His thoughtfulness was so endearing. You just shrugged. “Only a little.”

He scooted closer, shoulder brushing against yours and causing your heart to speed up at the light touch. He smelled nice, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

You attempted to distract yourself. “Ever learn about constellations?”

“What—like, the Big Dipper?”

“Yeah, I don’t know much either.” You chuckled, and Jisung grinned.

After a second of silence, he spoke up. “It’s kind of calming, don’t you think? The stars, I mean. Like—that’s the universe up there.”

“I think it’s a bit intimidating.” You admitted. “We’re so small in comparison to such a huge world.”

“I think that’s why I find it calming.” The boy murmured, and you watched him play with the sleeve of his tee as he spoke. “If I’m so small then my worries seem smaller, too. More manageable, you know? Not as hopeless.”

He seemed to get lost in his thoughts, so you gently nudged him. “Woah, you’re getting philosophical on me now?”

He laughed softly. “Whoops, guess it’s my inner genius coming out.”

You shoved him lightly, giggling. “Mm, sure.”

His smile was so wide now, and you swore he was glowing with happiness. He looked so beautiful right now that the next words kind of just tumbled out of your mouth without a second thought.

“So… who’s your crush?”

He sighed deeply. “Why are we talking about this again?”

“Hey, I’m curious!”

“I told you, it’s a secret.”

“I’m your best friend!”

“So?”

“So shouldn’t you confide your secret in me?” You leaned back on your palms, watching as his eyes reflected the galaxies above.

He was silent for a minute, eyes turning back to survey the stars. In the calm, you had time to wonder whether you really wanted to hear his answer or not, anyways. Because then that would be it. The answer.

“Okay, fine.” He turned, making your heart jolt as he leaned close to whisper in your ear. His breath was warm, his voice gentle and tinged with nerves: “It’s you.”

Words flew from your mind, taken by the night-time wind as Jisung pulled back again. The confident, irritatingly flirtatious boy’s eyes surveyed yours with an uncharacteristic apprehensiveness, his teeth trapping his bottom lip nervously. After a minute of silence only penetrated by chirping crickets, he clasped his hands together, murmuring. “You gonna tell me yours now?”

You didn’t even think about it when your hand found the back of his neck and pulled him into a firm kiss. He reacted immediately, lips moving slowly against yours, hands gingerly resting on your thighs as he leaned into the kiss, a light sigh escaping his mouth. That was enough for your stomach to explode with butterflies, your mind spinning into a daze before he pulled back, seemingly just as surprised as you. However the space between your lips lasted for hardly a second longer before he was kissing you again, more roughly this time, and every nerve of yours sparked aflame. His mouth moved with haste, like he was just as impatient as you’d been to kiss him—and you relished the idea that you might drive him just as crazy as he did you. He teased your mouth by biting softly into your bottom lip, pulling it back slowly as he broke away, leaving you stunned as your eyes batted open.

Jisung’s breathing was heavy as he opened his eyes to look at you, deep brown orbs filled with loving passion. “I don’t think I ever want to stop kissing you now.” He breathed, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“Then don’t.” You whispered, immediately feeling shy for such a bold statement. But all the boy did was grin giddily at you.

“Yes, ma’am.” He murmured; his hands hurriedly gripped both sides of your neck to tug you closer. He teasingly lingered a breath away from your lips before capturing them perfectly and wonderfully in his.

And his kisses were everything. Sweet, chaste ones and fast-paced, passionate ones and everything in between. His tongue played with yours, pressing it down, digging deeper to taste every inch of your mouth. You felt his hands trail down to your hips, pushing you against the car roof as you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him take away every last one of your breaths.

And then it was just the two of you, tangled together under a dark, twinkling sky.

The night passed in a whirlwind of euphoric closeness. You talked and laughed and kissed and kissed him until both of your lips were numb. Too soon, you sadly accepted the fact that you needed to head home.

You buckled into the passenger seat and Jisung hit the gas, the beginnings of a sunrise visible in the pastel pinks and blues colouring the horizon. Tired, you leaned back in your seat. Soft r&b floated from the speakers, almost lulling you to sleep—but before you could nod off, you spoke, “Hey, Jisung?”

“Hmm?”

“I liked kissing you.”

He didn’t reply for a moment, and when you opened your curious eyes, the boy was simply watching you, eyes wandering over your whole figure, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Just kissing—?”

“Shut it, Han Jisung.” It took everything in you not to smile too widely. “Eyes on the road.”

He smirked, hand coming to rest over your thigh—the damned flirt he was—and said, “You got it, babe.”

You closed your eyes with a small smile on your face, as one last thought bubbled to the surface of your mind before weariness brought you to sleep. Dear God, I am so in love.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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headlinerkwan · 3 months ago

Text

paths - c.sb

pairing: soobin x gn!reader

genre: nonidol!au, exes to ???, firstlove!soobin, angst, some fluff

summary: as you prepare to move back to your hometown, you discover a stack of unsent letters, causing you to reminisce on your first love and break up.

warnings: mentions of death (reader's dad passes away before events in the fic, mentioned but no detail.), some swearing, lots of lowkey pining ._.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: this fic was kind of inspired by 'paths' by niki, and the rest of her new album 'buzz' - go check it out!! requests and my general taglist is now open ･ᴗ･ lmk if you like the fic and reblog if you want, it helps writers out a lot ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა♡

“Mom, I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? I can drive up and help.”

“Yes, I’m all packed up, everything’s fine Mom, this isn’t my first time moving and there’s no way I’m letting you drive seven hours across the country,” You continue as she rants on about the overwhelming piles of paperwork and mess around the house, “I’ll be there to sort everything out soon, so don’t worry about that just… try to relax.”

“I’ll text you when I’m on the road, ok? I love you Mom!”

“I love you too, I’ll see you soon, yes?”

“Of course.”

You throw the phone down on the bed, your childhood hits playlist muffled by the ocean of blankets that it landed amongst. Looking around your room, an exasperated ‘fuck’ escapes your lips. Despite what you had just told your mother, your room was most definitely not packed up and you were most definitely not ready to leave behind the life that you had built just to return to your hometown.

After your Dad’s death, you had decided to move back into your childhood home, to keep your Mom company, settle down, and have a quieter life. You’ve had your fair amount of fun in the city and you were ready to return to your roots.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

A few hours later, there’s only one set of drawers left for you to pack up. You’re a sweaty mess as the sun beats down on you through the windows. Pulling your hair back, you position yourself in front of the drawers alongside some boxes, bubble wrap and packing tape.

Opening the bottom drawer you are welcomed by a pile of clothes that had been messily shoved in over the years. Okay not too much work left. Picking up a purple hoodie, a pile of envelopes reveal themselves, all of them addressed to the same person.

Choi Soobin.

Against your better judgement, you give in to your nostalgic curiosity and begin to unseal the first envelope. As far as everyone else knows, you hadn’t thought about Soobin in a couple of years - you had curated a nonchalant persona, one that didn’t care about the past and especially not the people that you had left behind. This, of course, was nothing but a persona, a facade that you had delicately crafted over the years. If you stopped lying to yourself, you would realise that he’s always on your mind. Breadcrumbs of your love littered through every street that you walk, every corner you turn, there’s always a part of you that longs for him. He lives in a part of your brain meant only for youth, for easier times. Everytime you see something bunny themed, or hear a Day6 song on the radio, you have to fight against every nerve in your body not to text or call him. So yes, it might seem like you don’t really care but oh my god, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so hung up over the past in the same way that you are when it comes to him.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter One:

‘Soobin,

Hi. It’s been a while. One month and 24 days, to be exact.

I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry if this is weird. Is this weird? Oh god, this is probably weird.

It’s just, we promised to give each other space and time but I can’t seem to let you go. Every second of every day all I want to do is pick up the phone and call you. You’re the only one I wanted to talk to after my first day at this new job, and when I moved in and I couldn’t figure out the stove, and when I found a new cafe nearby.

Maybe I should’ve stayed. Maybe I should’ve told you to stop talking about the opportunities and convince me to stay with you instead. It’s hard to be happy without you by my side, I miss you and I feel selfish saying it.

We said it was for the best and besides, I was the one who moved away, I was the one who broke your heart. Am I allowed to miss you?

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I probably won't even send it.

Bye Soobin.‘

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Reading the letter, you chuckle as your eyes cloud with tears. You recall how you thought you’d never be happy again. That it was a bad idea for you to have lived outside of the bubble of your hometown. How naive you were, believing the world began and ended with him. You smile through the slow tearing tears as you put the letter down in favor of another and reminisce on the love that you feel felt for him.

Your thumb brushes over the water marked envelope, still bearing the scars of tears cried long ago.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter Two:

‘Soobin,

How are you?

Dad told me that he had ran into you at the grocery store last week. He said you got taller but I’m not sure that’s possible. Dad said you look well too, I’m glad, I hope it’s true. I hope you’re okay. It kills me not knowing how your day was, if you’re in a bad mood, if you’re sick, if you’re hanging out with Beomgyu or staying home to watch the new ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’.

Not knowing is killing me.

It’s okay here, I’ve made a few friends at work and the city is nice, it’s new and lonely but I have hope that it will get easier with time. If it doesn’t though, and I come back home, I wonder if you’d be there with open arms and a wide grin like you always used to. Would you?

Sometimes I catch myself hoping for failure just so that I can come back to you and I have to remind myself of all of the work that I did just to get here. I remind myself too about how you’ve put me out of your mind… even if you haven’t - can we pretend that you’ve forgotten about us? I think it’ll be easier that way. ‘

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter Three:

‘Hi, It’s me again.

It’s been a while since I’ve written to you. It’s summer now, my first one without you. I’ve been trying my best not to think about that too much, I’m trying to enjoy the weather instead. It’s not easy though, the other day my friend and I got ice cream and it tasted just like the one that we had on our first date.

I’ve been replaying that night in my head a lot recently. I think about running from building to building, seeking shelter from the rain, I think about your laugh and my hand in yours. I think about how your eyes followed the fish in the aquarium with such childlike wonder. I try to remember what we talked about but I can’t. I remember smiling until my cheeks hurt though, I remember the harmony of our laughter, I remember how every touch was electric - like lightning in rain. I remember how happy I was whenever you were with me.

I’ll try to enjoy this summer as much as that one, even without you, I’ve decided to smile again.‘

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Pulling yourself together, you decide to refocus on the task in front of you, packing up your belongings in preparation for your move across the country in… less than twelve hours - great. The first item on your to-do list is food, you need to refuel (and stock up on packing tape). You decide to pick up some takeout from the Thai restaurant a couple of streets away from your apartment. The walk will be good for you, it’ll give you some space to think and maybe even soothe your puffy face.

As you walk around the city that has come to define your early twenties, mixed emotions begin to brew within you. Of course you’re sad to leave and nervous to return to your hometown, anxious about reuniting with the ghosts of your childhood. But, at the same time, you were excited to return to the place that knew you just as much as you knew it, to be back in an environment that was filled with your most cherished moments, a place full of youth and inspiration and hope. It will be good for you, even if it means the end of your chapter in the city or facing the skeletons that you had been ignoring since you’d ran away.

As you turn the corner, you spot a couple walking ahead of you, they’re walking in stride, hands interlocked and swinging rhythmically between them as they exchange laughter and whispers.

Your heart hurts as you watch them, struggling not to be reminded of Soobin. Images of your love flooding your brain - all those days in the sun and nights under the stars, His hands warming yours on winter mornings, hours spent doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. Every sweet smile and gentle kiss.

You must be sick or something, you can’t even pick up takeout without drowning in love and longing for a man you haven’t seen since you left.

Returning to your apartment, you sit on the floor of what used to be your living room, you unpack your khao pad and finally begin to eat. As you make your way through the dish, the TV fails to drown out your thoughts and you cave, deciding to read another one of your letters, curious about your own ramblings. Besides, one more couldn’t hurt… right?

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Letter Four:

‘Soobin,

I’m sure you don’t want to hear from me, I just need to be selfish today. I need someone to talk to and it has to be you. It has to be you because you’re the only one who ever really listened when I needed it and maybe one day, when I send these letters, you’ll be able to understand why.

The doctors say that my Dad is ill and I’m not sure what to do. I feel paralyzed. I don’t want to lose him and I feel so guilty because I can’t bring myself to see him that way. I want to keep the image of him as my Dad, not an ill and weak man, you know? I know he doesn’t want me to see him like that either but I feel so incredibly bad about it. I don’t know what to do, I feel helpless.

I wish that you were here with me. If you were I know you’d tell me to be an adult and face it even if it’s painful but, I can’t. I can’t do it, I’m too much of a coward. I wish that you were here to hold me like you used to and wipe my tears but, you’re not and that’s okay. I have to do this alone, however hard it may be.

I hope that on the day when our paths cross again we’ll both be okay, better than we are now. And, I hope we can laugh like we used to, like no time has passed.’

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Hours later, you find yourself still sat on the floor, surrounded by opened letters that you had penned long ago. You look down to find there is only one left - the last one. You might as well open it, you’ve come this far.

Letter Thirteen:

‘I dreamt about you again last night.

I wish you’d leave me alone. I can’t even escape you in my sleep. I wish I could forget you but you’re stuck in my mind like gum on a shoe and I’m not sure how much more I can take.

I hate you. I hate you for letting me leave even though neither of us wanted it to happen. I hate you for lying to me and saying it would be okay when it’s really not, not when I’m without you. I hate that even after leaving, I can’t escape you. I hate that you taught me so much, that everytime I’m reminded of you, you don’t feel so far away. I hate you for telling me that I was a bird, meant to fly, and that you were my birdcage - turns out I’m more of a parakeet than a starling.

I hate you for being right and wrong at the same time. I hate your dumb smile and the way that you push your hair back. I hate your voice and the sparkle in your eyes. But, most of all, I hate how much I miss you, I hate that I still love you and that no one could ever compare to you.

I hate you, Choi Soobin.’

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

As you shove the final letter back into its envelope through tears and stifled breaths, you find yourself left entirely drained. You check the time and realise that you only have eight hours before you begin your journey back home. You gather up the scattered envelopes and throw them messily into a box alongside the last of your clothes, sealing the box with whatever scraps of packing tape that you have left.

Flopping down onto your mattress, an exhausted sigh escapes your mouth and your eyes grow heavier as you curl up under your blanket.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

“I’ll be back later, text me if you need anything whilst I’m out. Love you!”

“Love you too! Bye!” you call out to your Mom as she shuts the front door.

It has been a week since you have moved back into your childhood home and, to say you were still in the process of getting situated was an understatement. In reality, you were still drowning in moving boxes but, with a spontaneous burst of energy you decide to put an end to your procrastination and actually start to unpack.

An hour or so later, the summer heat has left you sticky with sweat but you are still determined to unpack at least half of the boxes in front of you by the end of the day. Moving to organise your books, you are interrupted by a knock at the front door.

You open it to find a man standing in front of you. He is tall with messy dark brown hair which glows golden in the sunlight. He wears a nervous smile and is gripping a small bouquet of flowers as if it might fly away at any second. His dark eyes move down to meet yours and a soft smile of relief appears on both of your faces. Seeing his face, it feels like after all this time - after everything - you can finally breathe again.

“Soobin.” you whisper, as if to reassure yourself that this is real, that it’s actually happening.

His grin grows wider as he extends the flowers out towards you, “It’s been a while.”

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