#day6 x reader imagine

[daengtokki]

I’d love to read about Seungmin taking care of you while you’re sick. I know he’d be so sweet and loving 🥰

Kim Seungmin/gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

rating: fluff

A crash echoing in from the kitchen wakes you from your doze, and you groan so loudly you’re afraid he hears it. What could he have possibly dropped? All he was doing was grabbing the painkillers. He’s trying his best. He doesn’t even have to be here right now.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t get the drawer open, something was stuck inside…uh, here ya go.” His clenched fist hovers over you, and he drops two capsules in your palm. “Are they the right ones?”

And the migraine is just making you more sensitive. Having him with you while you’re feeling under the weather is brand new. "Yeah, thank you."

“Oh, you need a drink”

“No, I have my water”

He stops and turns back to you, a shy smile stuck on his face. This isn’t the first time, or the second time he’s been here, but it’s never for very long, and never overnight. And he doesn’t have to take time away from his own busy schedule for you, ever—you’ve told him that countless times. But now it’s late and Seungmin is still at your apartment, comfortable in his shorts and sweatshirt and his warm socks. You don’t think you’ve ever been more attracted to him than you are right now.

“I’ll be right back”

He spins and heads back to the kitchen, and you listen carefully to try to figure out what he’s doing. The faucet, the cabinet doors opening and closing, and the clink of cups, or mugs…he must be making tea. Eventually, the scent drifts into the bedroom—spicy and sweet. Seungmin returns with a mug in each hand, and he’s taking his time, being as careful as possible as he sets them on the bedside table.

“I’m not sure if it really works, but I saw it when I stopped at the store on the way here. If it just tastes good, I guess that’s okay, too.”

The pounding in your head becomes unbearable, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. “What is it?” You whisper, trying not to sound too irritable.

“How bad is the pain…one to ten?” Seungmin carefully sits on the edge of the bed, your mug of tea in his cupped hands.

It does smell nice. “Uh…a seven, maybe.”

“It’s supposed to help with headaches”

“Oh, you’re so sweet. Come over here”

“Yeah?” You nod again, and he nods back. “Okay.”

This is also brand new, sharing a bed. It’s a shame the first time has to be under these circumstances, but you’ll take him any way you can get him. The original plan was to have dinner, but after a few subtle hints, you managed to turn it into a late dinner and a sleepover. The migraine ruined it, but Seungmin still insisted on coming over, even if all you did was stay in bed and put up with him.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it. It’s very gingery.”

“It smells good.” You take a sip, and it’s not too hot, so you take a bigger one. “Thank you.”

Seungmin keeps a careful distance on top of the blankets—too much distance, but he’s going to treat you like this migraine could break you at any moment. You have to look at him through squinted eyes, try to smile and let him know you’ll be okay if he gets closer. You’ll be okay if he touches you.

“The lights...I forgot to turn the lights down.” He’s up and headed for the kitchen again. The light clicks off. Back in the bedroom, he flicks the light switch on the wall, so now the only glow is from the hallway light spilling in through the cracked door. “That’s better.”

“Much better. Six.”

Back on the bed, same distance. He nervously rubs his thighs, and his knees.

“You look cute in your pjs. Is this what you usually wear to bed?”

The pink on his cheeks rises slowly, and ends at the tips of his ears. You don’t think it was that odd of a question, but Seungmin is clearly a little flustered. Hopefully it wasn’t too much.

“I’m sorry, too personal?” You laugh. It’s not—you know he isn’t that sensitive, but he ended up being much more shy than you expected.

Idol Seungmin is a different person. Seungmin with his fellow members is also a different person. Your version of him, at least so far, is quiet, a little unsure, and not always confident in his actions.

“No, it’s not,” he smiles. “I don’t wear this much to bed, usually, but that didn’t seem appropriate tonight.”

“Well, if you get warm…”

“I’ll take off my socks.” He wiggles his toes and moves himself closer.

It hurts your head, but you let yourself laugh. Seungmin is funny, and he knows it. You’ll indulge him every time. “Is that a promise?”

This is different. It’s not the same as your closeness on the couch, or in the back of the car—this is your bed, and it doesn’t get more cozy and intimate than this. When you let your pounding head rest on his shoulder, his cheek lands on you. Something finally gives, and he seems to relax. You’re not sure what you did, but he shifts again, and you feel his soft lips press against your forehead. “Four.”

“If I could kiss away the pain, I would,” he says under his breath.

“Can you try?”

Whether he’s ready or not, you wrap your arms around him and bring him closer. But he does the same. Seungmin squeezes, but not too tightly, and places another kiss on your forehead, on your temple, and down your cheek. Wherever he can reach.

“I think it’s working”

Seungmin keeps going, “it’s a good thing I came over,” and finally makes it to your lips. He kisses very cautiously, and not nearly long enough when he pulls away to look at you.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just checking”

“I’m good…three and a half.” The strong fingers kneading into the back of your neck is the same move from his last visit. “That feels nice.” Hopefully, his next move is also the same as before.

“Does it? It’s not too much?”

You shake your head and close your eyes, and his lips press against yours again. This time he stays. His tongue slides across your mouth to gain access, and you let him in.

“Three," you somehow manage to get it out between his kisses, “two…”

[hyucksos]

1 to 10 — kang younghyun

pairing: kang younghyun x f!reader genre: arranged marriage, (one-sided) enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, romance wc: 12.6k synopsis: marriage was never part of your plan— especially not to brian kang, a man as composed and unreadable as he is infuriating. used to calling the shots in your own life, you struggle to adapt to sharing a home, a name, and a future with someone the complete opposite of you. but as bickering turns into something dangerously close to understanding, you realise there’s one thing you hadn’t accounted for in this arrangement: falling for the husband you never wanted in the first place.

You should have known your parents had an agenda the day you were introduced to Kang Younghyun and his family.

You had brushed it off as just that; exchanging pleasantries at galas were second nature to you, and just like the countless other families you had been introduced to that evening, you knew that the Kangs would be nothing more than another name in a long, forgettable list.

Even when you were handed his card, the words Brian Kang, Vice-Chairman embossed on matte cardstock, you had thought nothing of it, the small, unassuming rectangle quickly making home in your purse where you would eventually forget about it for months.

And forget about it, you do, until tonight, almost a year after you first met Younghyun— or rather, Brian. You weren’t sure how to address him seeing as you never really had an actual reason to do so, so you settle for a tight-lipped smile as both his and your parents engage in conversation. You get a polite, dimpled one in return.

It is only when both of your families are settled in your seats, waiting for your first course to be served do you hear his voice for the first time that night. It’s the same as you last remember it— soft, gentle, and far too measured, as if every word is carefully curated to be agreeable.

And that’s when you remember why you hate Brian Kang.

Because no one is ever truly that nice— especially not people like you. The wealthy don’t do kindness without motive, and people only often act that way when they want something— your approval, a favour, or, God forbid, your hand in marriage.

And just as you take a sip of your wine, your mother clears her throat.

“It’s a wonder how Younghyun is stil single at his age, isn’t it?”

The comment is offhanded, but it still sends a wave of uneasiness down your spine. You know how your mother is— she’s the reason why you’re so wary of people like Brian to begin with. Because everything you assume about him? She’s already proven herself true.

Mr. Kang hums in agreement. “A man like him— steady, responsible. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”

The old man glances at you as he utters the last few words, and your grip tightens around your glass. Whatever it is that’s about to come next, you know you’re not going to like it.

“That’s why we’ve been thinking…” Now, it’s your father’s turn to speak. “It’s time you start considering a more suitable future for yourself. We’ve talked it over, and we believe Younghyun is the right match for you.”

A beat of silence passes by, as though everybody is waiting for you to react first. You even feel Brian’s steady gaze on you, and that’s when you realise— he knew. That asshole knew.

You don’t stop the chuckle that escapes your lips before it escalates into full-blown laughter, and if not for the tears in your eyes, you would’ve caught the awkward glances being exchanged across the table.

“Honey-“

“You-“ your voice comes off as hoarse. “You want me to marry him?”

“It’s a good match.” Your mother takes a bite of her steak, completely unfazed and completely dismissive of your slow descend into insanity.

“For who? For me? Or for your business connections?” You snap.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” your father cuts in, unimpressed.

You scoff, turning to him. “I’m dramatic? You’re literally selling me off in the middle of dinner and I’m dramatic?”

Your mother sighs, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “Sweetheart, let’s be honest. You were never going to make a sensible choice on your own. We’re doing you a favour.”

Your stomach twists. You know what she’s hinting at. “Excuse me?”

“You’re wasting your time on a boy who barely has enough to pay for his own dinner, let alone yours. How do you expect us to trust your judgement?”

Of course. Of course, they’d bring up Wooshik. Your parents never took a liking to your boyfriend since you introduced him to them two years ago, and while that was an issue you’ve been putting off for a while now, always convincing yourself you’d cross that bridge when you got to it, you just never expected for it to catch up to you so soon.

Then again, you should have known. Your parents always play the long game.

You shake your head, your chair screeching against the marble tiles as you stand up. “You know what? I’m done.” You spare Brian a glare as you do so, the man infuriatingly calm as he watches the entire ordeal unfold ike he’s in a board meeting.

Oh, you hate him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Your father calls out to you, his voice sharp.

You don’t bother to reply as your storm out of the dining hall, hailing down the first cab you see the moment you exit the country club. There’s only one person you want to see right now, one person who could make sense of this insanity. The one person who, despite what your parents think, chose you for you.

You arrive at Wooshik’s apartment in twelve minutes, your knuckles rapping loudly on his door. In hindsight, you should have given him a call first, knowing that he’s probably already asleep at this time, but in your frazzled state it seems that all sense has left you completely.

The door finally swings open after what feels like forever, but you’re met with someone who isn’t your boyfriend.

“Yes?” The girl greets you with an unimpressed stare. For a moment, you think you’re at the wrong apartment, until your gaze flickers to the number plate above the doorbell. Not that you even needed to; you’ve been here probably a thousand times. There’s no way you’d mistake your own boyfriend’s place, no matter how distressed.

And for the second time that night, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, only for it to shred itself into little pieces when Wooshik appears, shirtless, eyes widening when they land on you.

“Baby-“

“Who is this?” You ask lowly, shakily, because even despite everything, you still have an inkling of hope that maybe, this is all just a huge misunderstanding. There’s no way that Kim Wooshik, your boyfriend of four whole years, would cheat on you, right?

But he only stays silent, and that was all you needed to hear.

Your heart pounds in your ribs, each beat louder than the last, but Wooshik still says nothing. He doesn’t deny it, doesn’t push past the girl in his doorway to get to you. He just… stands there.

And that’s when you realise— he’s not speechless because he’s guilty. He’s speechless because he doesn’t care.

“Oh, wow,” the girl hums, arms crossing over her chest as her eyes twinkles in amusement. “Took you this long to figure it out, huh?”

You turn to her slowly, fists clenched at your sides. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, c’mon,” she pauses to laugh, gesturing lazily to your boyfriend— if you could even call him that. “Look at him! What other reason could there be for someone like him to go for someone like you?” 

When you don’t answer, she raises her hands, rubbing her middle finger against her thumb. As though you needed a reminder— tonight, of all nights— the only thing people truly cared about.

Money.

And it was a good thing you had loads of those too, because being broke sure as hell wouldn’t be able to get you out of what you did next.

You punched her.

You don’t register it until it happens, the loud crack that echoes in the hallway— your knuckles, her nose, you’re not entirely sure which. One thing for sure, you’re seeing red.

She stumbles back with a shriek, but you’re already turning to Wooshik.

“You bastard.”

Your fist collides with his jaw before he could even stammer out an excuse, and his back hits the door behind him upon impact.

“Are you insane?!” He yells, cupping his bruising cheek as he pants.

Maybe. But right now, you don’t care. Even when you feel the stinging of your scalp as the girl fists your hair and yanks you backwards, you recover fast, and you think it’s the pent-up rage from before that spurs you to continue, disregarding your broken nails as you claw blindly and ignoring the contents of your clutch spilling onto the floor as you use it as a makeshift weapon.

“Stop! Stop it- people are looking!“ Wooshik hisses as he grabs you from behind, pulling you away from his mistress. You yank yourself free, whipping your neck to look at him.

“Oh, now you want to care what people think?” You laugh sharply, ignoring the curious eyes of his neighbours as they watch through the cracks of their half-open doors.

Before he could reply, you’re interrupted by the sound of sirens.

Loud. Distinct. And definitely getting closer.

And as the red and blue lights spill through the corridors, it finally registers.

You’re screwed.

The police station is desolate at this time of night, and if it weren’t for the position you were in, you could even say that it’s peaceful.

You’re seated across an officer— Officer Jung, as the placard on his table suggests— who’s flipping through his notes.

“So, wanna tell us what happened?”

You don’t answer, exhaling sharply through your nose— this wasn’t how you imagined your night to end.

“Seeing as there are no serious injuries, we could let you off with a warning and fine. But, if Mr. Kim and Ms. Shin decide to press charges, well, you might have to deal with a court date at a later time. If you tell us what happened, we could help you— make things easier, at least.”

You scoff humourlessly as you keep your gaze on your lap— your bloodied fingers fiddling with your clutch you miraculously still have with you. It’s bent out of shape and not even able to lock properly anymore, leaving you to notice that some of your items are probably still left on the floor outside Wooshik’s apartment.

And then, you notice it— a familiar sleek, black card, hidden away in a tiny pocket on the wall of your purse.

You haven’t used this bag in a while— it’s been almost a year, you believe, but you instantly know to whom that card belongs.

You look at Officer Jung. “I want to make a phone call.”

He looks taken aback at your sudden request, but quickly recovers. “You’ll get your phone call, but talking now could make things easier for you, if you’d just cooperate, Miss.”

You don’t reply, and the officer sighs.

“Fine. One call.”

He pushes the telephone on his table towards you, and you pick up the receiver while you take out the namecard with your other hand. The phone rings thrice before he picks up.

“Brian Kang speaking.”

“I need you to come pick me up.”

A pause.

“Where are you?”

“Gangnam Police Station.”

Thirty minutes later, you hear his voice again, this time in person. Brian is speaking to the officer at the front desk before he’s handed something to sign, and soon he’s directed to where you’re seated at the waiting area.

You turn away, suddenly feeling conscious of your appearance. You’re sure your mascara is smudged and your hair is a hot mess, and while you really couldn’t care less of what anybody thinks of you— much less Brian— you figure there’s only so much humiliation you could take in one night.

“Ready to go?”

You peer at him through your eyelashes, the man only looking back at you patiently like you’re not at a police station and he isn’t here to bail you out. Brian Kang, with his hair styled to perfection and his black tie still in a neat Windsor knot despite it being close to midnight. The only indication that he’s even been through a day is his blazer being unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but even then, he still manages to look presentable.

Oh, how infuriating. You hate him.

You don’t say anything, standing up and smoothing out your dress in the process. Not like it did much, whatsoever.

“Oh, wow. And who’s this?” A voice sounds from the other side of the room, and you turn to see that it’s Wooshik, a lazy smirk on his lips despite the bruise blooming on his jaw. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s been unfaithful, huh?”

Your blood boils. “You-“

You want to lunge towards him, but a firm grip around your wrist yanks you backwards, and you feel Brian’s chest against your back as he holds you firmly.

“No.” His voice is calm but absolute, his grip tightening when you struggle. “Not here.”

“Let me go,” you seethe, but Brian doesn’t budge.

“And what?” He answers smoothly, tilting his head towards the officers who are watching you intently. “Get yourself in more trouble?”

Wooshik snickers. “You hear that, babe? Keep proving to everyone what a slu-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Brian cuts in, his tone so sharp that Wooshik actually shuts up.

You take the opportunity to yank yourself free, and giving Wooshik one final glare, you march out of the station.

Brian is close behind you, as you could tell from the sound of his footsteps, and when you stop, he stands right beside you.

“Brian,” you utter without looking at him, keeping your gaze trained on the almost-empty parking lots in front of you. Your fist your hands tightly, unsure if the pain you feel is from your injuries or from the utter betrayal you’ve received from everyone tonight. “Let’s get married.”

He chuckles softly. “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.”

You clench your jaw as you turn to him, just in time for him to meet your gaze. There’s a twinkle of something in his eyes— mirth. Amusement. Almost as if he’s teasing you, and you hate that.

“You don’t think I’m serious?”

“I think you’re angry,” he corrects, now turning to face you fully. He places his hands in his pockets, casually, like you’re not on the brink of lashing out and him not on the receiving end. “And people say all sorts of things when they’re angry.”

You can’t help but to let out a humourless scoff at his tone. You’d think that he’d drop his fake-nice act now that it’s just the two of you, but if anything, it’s even more infuriating. Who the hell does he think he is, talking to you like you’re a child— like he’s trying to gentle parent you, at that? Even your own parents don’t do that!

“I don’t like you,” you say bluntly, earning a raised brow from Brian. “But right now, I think I hate my life even more. So, really— marrying you doesn’t even sound like the worst idea.”

Brian exhales a quiet laugh as he shakes his head. “You’re doing this out of spite.”

You jut your chin towards him. “Oh, what, so now you’re a mind reader?”

“No,” he quips as he lowers his head to meet your eye level, and his lips stretch out into a wide grin. “I just know you’d rather set yourself on fire than to admit defeat and let your parents say ‘I told you so’.”

You grit your teeth. “Go to hell.”

He chuckles. “Tempting, but I think I’ll stick around for a while.” Brian straightens up, finally giving you space to breathe as he adjusts his cuffs, acting like he’s having the most normal conversation in the world. “So, rings?”

You frown. “What?”

“For the wedding?” He adds, tilting his head. “Unless you’d rather wing it and let your mum pick them out?”

You roll your eyes wordlessly before shoving past him, the sound of his mocking laughter trailing behind you. You don’t even know where his car is, but you keep walking anyway, desperate to put some distance between you and that insufferable smirk.

Just what the hell did you get yourself into?

Your wedding with Brian was nothing short of excessive extravagance, as is the rock that now sits on your finger. As stunning as it is, a three-carat diamond ring with a pear cut and matching silver band that fits perfectly, it’s a reminder of your legal bind to the man, whom, even over the last couple of months, you found yourself to still despise.

It isn’t easy to live with someone like Brian when he’s the direct opposite of you. Precise, methodical, and annoyingly put-together— that’s him, and he’s everything you’re not. While you struggled to remember in which box you packed your toiletries prior to the move, he was already done with colour-coding his sock drawer. As you were cursing yourself for dropping one of your favourite scented candles, he was quick to appear beside you with a broom and dustpan, and by the time you were done being dramatic, there were no more glass shards for you to accidentally step on.

The only upside that came with your marriage was the fact that you’d never have to deal with your parents’ suffocating expectations again, even if it meant having to coexist with Brian and all his… Brian-ness.

There were no I-told-you-sos, (because you never bothered to disclose the ending of your relationship with your ex-boyfriend), no condescending lectures, just quiet, satisfied approval, because you had done exactly what they wanted— married a man they approved of, and moved into a life that was deemed respectable. In return, that got you out of a house you never really got to call home to begin with, and for a while, that was enough, until you realised that sharing a roof with Brian came with its own set of problems— like the way he insists on organising the kitchen cabinets like it’s a damn grocery aisle.

“That doesn’t go there.”

You glance over your shoulder to see Brian leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed as he watches you place a mug in the cabinet.

You arch a brow. “It’s a cabinet. For mugs. Where else should it go?”

He exhales before nodding to somewhere beside you. “Top shelf. Left side. Next to the tall glasses.”

You scoff, turning to face him fully with the mug still in your hand. “Seriously, Brian, do you hear yourself when you speak? It’s a cup. A cup. Who cares where it goes? Are you running a five-star restaurant in here? Are the housekeepers going to judge my mug placement skills? Does the fate of the world depend on whether or not my mug sits next to your stupid tall glasses-“

In the midst of your rant, you don’t even even notice him stepping forward, plucking the mug out of your hands before placing it exactly where he wants it without so much as a word.

“There. Problem solved.” He dusts off his hands before looking down at you. “Also, it’s Younghyun. I told you, Brian is for business. I’m your husband.”

“And our marriage is purely transactional. I’ll call you whatever I want,” you bite back.

“Hm, fair. Should I start calling you sweetheart, then?”

You know he’s trying to rile you up on purpose, and oh, boy, is it working.

You glower. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He merely smiles— that infuriating, knowing smile— and you know he’s noticed the way your cheeks burn in anger. But, being the asshole that he is, he chooses not to say anything.

And somehow, that only makes it worse.

“Sweetheart, could you pass me the salt?”

Your fingers stiffen around your utensils as you slowly turn to him with a glare, Brian not even looking at you as he continues to cut his steak, like nothing ever happened. Like that damn word didn’t just escape his lips; like he’s been saying it for years instead of just now, in front of both of your families.

He only looks up when he realises your silence, and even has the audacity to raise his brows as though to ask: what’s wrong?

You grit your teeth.

“Oh, I absolutely adore what you’ve done with the house! You know, with a space this big, there’s only one way to truly make it feel like home.” Brian’s grandmother beams from across the table.

You don’t like where this is going, but Brian, the ever-perfect grandson, humours her. “And what would that be, Grandma?”

Grandma Kang claps her hands, grinning in a way that reminds you of Brian when he’s teasing you. Now you know where he got it from.

“Filling it with little feet, of course! A house this grand shouldn’t be put to waste— imagine how wonderful it would be to hear children running through these halls.”

Even though you saw it coming, you still find yourself choking on your food as her words hit you before you could process it.

You grasp for your water, but before you could, Brian beats you to it as he slides his own glass towards you, his fingers brushing yours as he does so.

“Careful, darling,” he says, his hand coming up to pat your back. You barely get to register the warmth in both his touch and his voice before it leaves you completely, and he’s back to sipping on his wine by the time you turn to him.

Like nothing ever happened.

“We’re still young, Grandma.” Brian returns to the conversation with an easy smile. “What’s the rush?”

“Yes, but I’m not getting any younger, son,” Grandma Kang hums disapprovingly. “I do want to see at least one of my great-grandchildren before I die. You two haven’t even gone on a honeymoon yet! That won’t do— newlyweds should take time to celebrate.”

“Don’t say that,” Brian chides gently. “You’ll be around to spoil a whole football team’s worth of great-grandkids.”

You kick his shin from under the table, to which Brian doesn’t react— of course he doesn’t.

“I hope you don’t feel like I’m pressuring you, dear.” She turns to you. “It’s just that, I want to see the both of you happy and settled while I can.”

You settle with an awkward smile, though you’re sure it comes off as more of a grimace.

Out of everybody in this room, the old lady seems to be the only one who doesn’t make you feel like you’re under a microscope. She’s warm, affectionate, and genuinely delighted to have you in the family, which is why you can’t find it in you to tell her the truth— that you’re not in love with her grandson, and you don’t think you ever will be.

“But, speaking of honeymoons.” Brian swallows his food. “I do have a work trip coming up. Maybe we could make something out of it. What do you think, love?” He turns to you with a boyish grin, and you swear, if you hear another one of his stupid nicknames leave his mouth, you might just combust.

In anger, of course.

You frown. “A work trip is not a honeymoon.”

“It is if we say it is.” He shrugs, nonchalant. “Especially if it’s in the city of love.”

“Ooh, Paris!” This time, your mother gushes. With the way both Brian’s parents and yours have been quiet throughout the entire duration of dinner, you’d almost forgotten that they were there to begin with. Of course, your mother wouldn’t be your mother if she has to stay silent for very long, and the moment her sharp eyes meet yours, you know that the decision is already made for you.

You’re going to Paris.

You haven’t had a good sleep in days.

With the new project at work and your trip coming up, your schedule is packed, and with the endless emails and phone calls that don’t seem to stop, you’re not given the time to breathe, let alone rest.

It’s nearing midnight, and you find yourself still in the living room, the chandelier dimmed and your only source of light as it accompanies you while you finish up your report. You’ve been at it for hours, and your eyes are starting to blur from the screen, but you force yourself to push through.

You barely even hear the sound of footsteps until Brian stops next to the television, leaning against the wall as he watches you.

“You’re still working?” He asks, his tone quiet and laced with something you can’t really put a finger on. A part of you has a hunch, but you don’t want to acknowledge it.

“Yeah. I just gotta finish this before we leave. I’ll be fine,” you mutter distractedly, not even bothering to spare him a glance.

Brian doesn’t say anything as he continues to watch you, and you continue typing, hoping he gets the hint and leaves you alone.

“You need to take a break,” he finally says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“What I need is to finish this report, Brian.” You finally look up to give him a glare, and you’re surprised to see that for once, he’s being serious, devoid of the usual teasing shit-eating grin he always wears. Still, you don’t waver. “You’re not exactly helping by being here.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. You need a break,” he repeats, his tone more firm this time. Still, there’s no real anger in it, only concern, and that’s the one thing you’ve been trying not to acknowledge. Your chest starts to twist uncomfortably, unfamiliar with this side of him.

You roll your eyes wordlessly, knowing starting an argument with him would only take up your time, and that’s the one thing you don’t have enough of right now.

You hear Brian sigh before he steps towards you, gently taking the laptop off your lap before placing it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Seriously-“ you scoff before getting to your feet, heart thumping erratically as your frustration finally bubbles over. “What’s it to you? Why do you keep acting like I’m helpless?” You snap. “I can handle this! I don’t need you to tell me what to do every five minutes!”

Brian doesn’t flinch. “I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what’s good for you. And what’s good for you right now is to take a damn break.” Despite the tick of his jaw, his voice is calm, too calm. “You’re not fine,” he continues, a quiet challenge in his voice. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

That is what makes you crack.

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the exhaustion, mixed with anger— hell, it’s probably all the emotions you’ve been suppressing since you got cheated on and then getting married the following month— because the next thing you know, you’re crying uncontrollably with no signs of stopping.

You drop to the sofa, burying your face in your hands as you sob, your shoulders trembling with the weight of it all. You don’t even want to look at Brian; the last thing you need is his sympathy.

“Just go,” you croak, voice muffled behind your hands. “I’m fine. I’m just tired, okay?”

Brian doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, you think he actually left, until you feel him kneel down in front of you, gently prying your hands off your face.

For some reason, you let him.

He brings his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he wipes your tears. You shake your head to get him to stop, embarrassed, but he doesn’t move away, only holding you firmer.

“You’re not fine,” he murmurs, his voice a lot quieter now, but his tone is one you haven’t heard before. Soft. Almost tender. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to do this alone. Not as long as I’m here.”

His words catch you off-guard. You hadn’t realised just how much you needed to hear that, too used to carrying everything yourself, always being the strong one, so hearing Brian say that feels like a lifeline.

The fact that he’s actually there, not telling you to fix it or get over it, but simply… acknowledging it, makes everything feel a little less impossible, especially after he says:

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You sniff before looking away. “You’re so annoying,” you mumble, taking his hands to remove them from your face, but you don’t let go as you let them rest on your lap.

Neither does he.

“You bring this up tomorrow, and I’ll kill you.”

Brian laughs, his eyes crinkling as he does so, and somehow, the sight doesn’t annoy you as much as you know it should.

“You’re joking,” you deadpan, fingers resting loosely on your luggage handle as you stare at the room before you. You turn to Brian. “One bed? Why the hell would you book a suite with a single bed?!”

“Grandma wanted to gift us. I couldn’t say no,” he utters with absolute indifference, like you’re both not standing before a king size bed with flower petals scattered all over it in the shape of a giant heart. The sight makes you shudder.

“It’s fine. I’ll just take the couch.”

“You better,” you murmur, too tired to deal with his nonchalance today. You had just gotten out of a fifteen hour flight— like that wasn’t already terrible enough. The fact that it was Brian Kang that you flew with made it all the more agonising.

He was the type of person who insisted on arriving at the airport way before necessary— which, in your case, meant that the three hours you thought you had to pack your luggage were cramped into a single, stress-filled one.

It didn’t help that Brian had a lot to say about your lack of preparation, chastising you for not packing earlier, which of course, then naturally spiralled into an argument that lasted twenty minutes (though, it was more of you yelling while he remained infuriatingly composed).

By the time you were good to go, you’re exhausted, out of breath, and completely over it. Meanwhile, Brian loaded both your luggages into the car with effortless ease like it was nothing.

Like the responsible adult he was, he had checked in for the both of you on time, and even went as far as to listen to the safety instructions in the plane intently like he was in a lecture. At that point, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he were to whip out a notepad and pen to jot down notes.

He was completely insufferable.

And now that you’re finally in Paris, some distance from Brian would do you good, you think— except, of course, he has plans.

While all you want is to sink into the ridiculously plush hotel bed and knock out for a few hours, Brian is already chattering on about his itinerary like he’s pitching a business proposal. Truthfully, you could barely even make out the places he’s listing with how lethargic you are, and he only stops when he realises you’re being weirdly unresponsive.

You’re fast asleep.

Younghyun scoffs to himself as he stares at the slow rise and fall of your back, your body curled up under the covers as you snore softly. Usually, he’d have something to say about how you shouldn’t be lying on the bed without changing out of your outside clothes first, about how you never listen to him when he tells you to get enough rest, maybe even tease you about how you always insist you won’t fall asleep right away, only for you to be knocked out cold the moment your head hits the pillow.

But for once, he lets it go.

Because despite how much you get on his nerves, and no matter how stubborn you are, he knows you’re exhausted. And maybe, he doesn’t mind giving in to you this time.

With a soft sigh, he gets up from the sofa and grabs his coat, making sure not to wake you up as he closes the door behind him softly. If you won’t take care of yourself, then he’d just have to do it for you. And if you’re too stubborn to go out to eat— well, maybe bringing something back would make it easier.

✦ ✦ ✦

By the time you stir awake, it’s dark, and you realise that you’re alone. You wonder if Brian actually did up and leave to go on that walk along the Seine he had been talking about earlier, and for a split second, you feel guilty. You quickly snap out of it, jolting up in the process.

“Am I going insane?” You laugh humourlessly to yourself, running a hand through your tangled hair. “Why the hell should I feel bad for him? He’s not my responsibility. He’s a grown man!” You try to justify, but deep down, there’s a feeling you can’t shake.

You didn’t even ask if he was okay, if he needed help, if he needed something. Nothing.

You groan fall back into the pillows, kicking your feet against the covers in frustration. Your hands find your head once again, and you tug on your hair. “Get out of my head, Brian Kang.”

“Why? Miss me already?”

You sit up again, this time twice as fast and almost falling off the bed in the process.

“I-I wasn’t talking about you,” you manage to sneer, to which Brian chuckles in response as he kicks off his shoes.

“Sure. Come eat.”

You frown, only now noticing the takeout bags he has in his hands before he places them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. As embarrassed as you are, you can’t deny that you’re hungry, so begrudgingly, you pad towards him.

You wait for Brian to shrug off his coat, his coat which you’re now noticing is damp and covered in little droplets. You didn’t even realise that it had been raining, and the same unfamiliar feeling tugs on your heart strings again.

“Really? You couldn’t just wait until the rain stopped?” You mumble, keeping your tone as casual as possible as you start unwrapping your food.

Brian shrugs. “It was just a little rain.”

“Yeah, well, don’t complain if you fall sick tonight and end up having to skip on your meeting tomorrow. I’m not gonna be the one staying awake to take care of you.”

Brian peers at you through his lashes with a knowing smile on his lips, and it only makes you realise how you may have sounded a little too concerned for your liking.

“I-I’m not worried about you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, turning back to your food. You’re not sure if you can continue staring at him without turning yourself into a blubbering fool even more.

Brian laughs, but he doesn’t push it. “Speaking of tomorrow, do you have anywhere you want to visit? We can go after I’m done with work,” he answers breezily, placing a peeled shrimp in your container before resuming with his meal.

You, on the other hand, are frozen in your spot, still trying to process his gesture. You stare at the shrimp in confusion before glancing at him again, but Brian doesn’t even acknowledge you.

“Didn’t you already have a whole itinerary planned?” You ask when you finally find your voice.

“Yes, but seeing as we’re on a honeymoon, we should do things we both like, no?”

“This is not a honeymoon, Brian. Call it what it is, a work trip.”

“Younghyun.” His voice softens in a way that makes your heart tighten. “I know you’ve been working a lot lately, so this is your chance to enjoy Paris. We’ll make the most of it together.”

You want to argue, but somehow the words never come.You know what it is, and you’re finally ready to acknowledge it— the small pang of guilt that creeps into your chest.

“It’s fine,” you say with a sigh. “I don’t really have anything I want to do anyway.” You shrug as nonchalantly as you could, despite knowing that it’s a lie.

Of course, there are things you want to do while you’re here— things that you know Brian wouldn’t necessarily enjoy, and things that certainly wouldn’t fit in his structured itinerary. But you can’t find it in you to say anything, not after everything he’s done.

As much as you hate to admit it, and despite how infuriating and annoying you still think he is, he’s the only one who’s been doing everything while you’ve barely even contributed to the trip. Your mind goes back to his coat again, his stupid, damp coat, and the thought of him being caught in the rain all to get you some food just because you refused to go out today leaves an uncomfortable weight in the pit of your stomach.

So, you don’t say anything— for once, you’ll give in and agree to go along with his plans, even if it means having to drag your feet to the places you know won’t excite you.

Because the last thing you want to do is disappoint him.

✦ ✦ ✦

Brian is already asleep when you step out of the shower, the three-seater sofa only barely accommodating to his tall form. His legs are bent in a way that doesn’t look very comfortable, and he has his arm draped over his eyes to block out the street lights from the window next to him.

There it is again— the dreadful feeling of guilt that twists and turns in your stomach. It doesn’t help that the rain has gotten heavier now, the occasional sound of thunder a reminder that you won’t be getting a peaceful sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you trudge towards the bed, making sure to face the wall and not Brian as you get under the covers. Try as you might, sleep doesn’t come to you very easily, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’ve already had a nap earlier, the relentless rain outside, or purely the guilt from making Brian sleep on the couch. Maybe it’s all three.

You turn on your back, eyes wide open as you stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Are you asleep?” The question escapes you before you could stop it, and you cringe at how loud your voice sounded in the otherwise quiet room.

Surprisingly, Brian hums in reply, but he remains unmoving when you glance at him.

Before you could change your mind, you remove the extra pillow from behind your head, placing it to your right before you quickly turn back on your side.

“Just come here. But any funny business and you’re dead.”

It’s silent for a while, and you think that maybe Brian had gone back to sleep or is simply just ignoring you, until you feel the bed dip.

He exhales a small chuckle as he settles beside you, and even despite the grogginess in his voice, it’s laced with amusement.

“You say that like I’d even dare.”

It’s teasing, but he doesn’t push his luck. Instead, he shifts— just enough to get comfortable, but careful not to press too close. With the pillow now in between the both of you, it’s not like he could, anyway.

A beat passes before he adds, softer this time. “Go to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, opting not to reply him. While that had managed to clear up a little bit of your conscience, there’s still one issue you’re left with: the thunder.

It’s not like you’re necessarily scared of them. They just make you a little jumpy, is all.

Even now, when it booms and splits the dark in a second-long white glow, you yelp, only to bite your tongue right after and hoping Brian hadn’t heard you.

Silence stretches between you, until you feel him reach over to remove the pillow in the middle before it lands on the floor with a thud. You finally turn to peek over your shoulder, ready to ask him what the hell he’s doing.

But of course, Brian doesn’t say anything, eyes still shut like he’s already asleep. In the empty space between the two of you now lies his arm, outstretched, waiting, like a quiet invitation.

Just as you’re about to chide at him, another strike of thunder crashes through the sky, louder this time. So of course, naturally, you jolt.

Forward.

Right into him.

You gasp. “Bri-“

He shushes you. This asshole has the audacity to shush you as he wraps his other arm around your torso, pulling you impossibly closer.

He exhales, his voice low and laced with sleep. “You’re so jumpy.”

Your words get caught in your throat, so for a while, you don’t say anything. You can’t. 

“Am not,” you huff, though it doesn’t really come out as convincing given you’re practically curled against his chest.

He hums, and you know he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t argue. And when thunder strikes for the third time, you feel his arms tighten around you in silent consolation.

You shut your eyes tightly, though this time, it’s not out of fear anymore. No, right now, you’re trying to ignore his warmth that’s already seeping into yours, and the way his featherlight touches are making your throat go drier than a desert.

You think you might need a glass of water, but you don’t exactly want to leave your spot right now.

“One word about this, Brian, and I-“

“You’ll kill me. I know,” he chuckles, the vibration of his chest against yours making you all too aware of how close you are.

You scowl, though it lacks any real bite. Smug bastard.

Still, you don’t move away.

And neither does he.

You wake up to an empty bed.

As you sit up to rub the sleep from your eyes, you almost forget where you are, still disoriented by the warmth lingering on the sheets beside you.

But then you hear the faint rustling from the other side of the room, and that’s when you see Brian by the vanity, currently buttoning up his white dress shirt with his tie still undone and slung over his neck.

Your eyes widen, and you find yourself falling back to the mattress as you stare at the ceiling, breaths slightly laboured.

What the hell is going on? Why is your heart beating so fast? Are you having a heart attack?

You squeeze your eyes shut, even going as far as to press your palms against your cheeks as though doing that would magically erase the memory from your mind.

Nope. Didn’t work. You did not just get flustered over Brian Kang of all people.

No matter how much you try to will it away, the image is already burned in your head— the sharp lines of his collarbones, the way his fingers worked the buttons with ease, the single strand of hair that falls in his forehead despite his conscious effort to style it.

“You okay?”

Suddenly, his voice is way too near for comfort, and your eyes fly open to see Brian peering at you over the side of the bed, his brows knit in confusion.

Thankfully, his shirt is buttoned up all the way now, sparing you from details you don’t want to see (rather, details that you know could potentially cause you to short circuit).

You must have taken a while to answer, gaping at him like a deer in headlights, because you only finally snap out of it when you register him reaching out to you.

“I’m fine!” You blurt, your hand extending out just in time to catch his wrist, his palm already dangerously close to your head.

“You sure?” He asks, not the least bit convinced. “You’re all red. Are you down with a fever?”

“No. Are you?”

Brian only arches his brows at your response, and you finally let him go, scooting further to his side of the bed to put some distance between you two, avoiding his gaze.

“Alright…” he scoffs, a tinge of humour laced in his tone. “I’ll be back before lunch to pick you up, okay? We could go sightseeing if you’re up for that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumble. You had expected him to leave, but he doesn’t, and you finally turn to him again. “What?”

Brian tilts his head slightly, studying you with the same expression that always gets under your skin. Then, without warning, he leans in— just a little, but enough for your breath to catch in your throat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again, lower this time, like he knows something is definitely up; like he knows exactly the reason behind why your face is burning and he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

You swallow, gripping the sheets. “I said I’m fine.”

Brian studies you for a second more before he hums, finally straightening up. You don’t miss the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and you know he’s not pushing you further solely because he doesn’t want to embarrass you— at least, more than you already did yourself.

“Okay. If you say so.” He grabs his coat, throwing it over his shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later, love.”

And with that, he finally turns to leave, just like nothing ever happened.

You exhale sharply, bringing the covers over your head.

You’re so doomed.

✦ ✦ ✦

Your plans after lunch started at the Louvre. It was where you found out that Brian was someone who enjoyed art and history— because why wouldn’t he, right? You thought the gallery was far too crowded and you didn’t see the point in staring at paint splattered on canvas, but seeing how focused he was on reading every single plaque and description, you decided to just let him be.

He’d talk to you about it, too— feed you with fun facts about the artist or history of the painting which really, you couldn’t care less about, but as you took in the way his features would light up whenever he saw a painting he recognised, or the way his lips would twitch into a satisfied smile whenever he shared about something he found interesting, you found yourself holding back on any complaints.

Instead, you nodded along, when in reality you were much more focused on the enthusiasm in his voice and the way his fox-like eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled, making him look impossibly more endearing.

That was a thought you were quick to dispose of, of course, because this is Brian Kang you’re talking about. There was no way you were going to admit to anybody that your heart was starting to beat a little too fast to your liking whenever you were around him.

He took you on a boat cruise on the Seine right after, and you did complain this time, bringing up the movie you saw recently about sharks under Paris and how there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself get eaten by one. You weren’t about to tell him that it was boat rides in general that made you uneasy, but it seemed that Brian knew that already without having to ask. He merely laughed and held your hand, and that kept you quiet for the remainder of the ride.

You reach your final destination just as the sun is about to retire for the day, a quiet spot in Champ de Mars facing the Eiffel Tower. Your legs are hurting from all the walking, and with your last meal being lunch a few hours ago, you’re starving.

It was a good thing Brian had half a mind to stop by a sandwich shop on the way here, because your dinner was devoured within minutes, and you’re now left marvelling over the pretty lights that glimmer on the lattice structure before you.

You had no complaints, and it seems that Brian doesn’t have anything to say as well as he too remains quiet, but what you don’t know is that he’s looking at you.

The golden glow of the Eiffel Tower bounces off your skin, catching in the delicate curves of your face. Younghyun might have spent the day at the Louvre, surrounded by centuries’ worth of masterpieces, but hell if you’re not the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes on.

“Sweetheart.” The name gently rolls of his tongue like he’s been saying it for years, and you hum in reply, clearly distracted, until realisation sets in and your brows furrow ever so slightly as you catch your own slip up.

You turn to him with your signature frown, but Younghyun knows it lacks any real bite. “What?”

He exhales a quiet laugh before pursing his lips, inhaling softly. “I wish you would’ve just told me that you weren’t enjoying yourself today.”

Your expression wavers, but only for a second. “What are you talking about?” You mutter before turning away, like you always do when you’re flustered. “That’s not true. I had fun.”

“You get this look on your face when you’re forcing yourself to have fun,” he muses. “Like you’re watching a movie with a bad plot and you don’t want to admit that you didn’t like it.”

You only scoff, further confirming his assumptions.

“You don’t talk back like you always do. You held back on your complaints when usually, you’d jump at the first opportunity to argue with me. Every time I caught you zoning out, you weren’t looking at what I was showing you— you were looking at me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Of course, he saw right through you.

“Maybe you just had something on your face.” You glance at him.

Brian laughs. “Even you don’t believe that.”

You roll your eyes, but he isn’t done.

“You should have said something,” he continues, softer this time. “I would’ve done anything you wanted, you know?”

“Even if I wanted to go bungee jumping?”

Brian stares at you softly, a hint of a smile on his face. “I’d tie a rope to my ankle and dive a hundred feet headfirst if it makes you happy.”

Something warm stirs in your chest, but you don’t acknowledge it. You don’t want to, because if you do, then you’d have to admit that this tightening feeling in your chest could be something dangerously close to fondness.

That night, you place your pillow next to you before turning on your side, your back to Brian as he finishes up his work on the sofa.

You feel the weight of his stare as he shuts his laptop, and slowly, cautiously, he gets under the covers next to you, almost like he’s testing the waters.

“Are you asleep?” He asks, voice soft.

You don’t answer right away, not wanting to break the fragile moment. “No.”

He waits for a few moments, almost as though expecting you to elaborate, but when you don’t, he asks, “why?”

You stay quiet again, biting your lip, unsure of what to say. You don’t really have an excuse as to why you’re still awake even after the day you’ve just had. It’s not like it’s raining outside, and it’s not like there’s thunder to keep you up.

It’s not like you were waiting for him.

But Brian doesn’t press. He only stays silent for a while longer before exhaling softly, and just like yesterday, he removes the pillow that separates the two of you before shifting closer, his arm finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs, like he’s read your mind.

Again, you don’t respond, but you don’t pull away either. You turn in his hold, slipping your arm over his torso just as he pulls you closer, and you try to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that constricts your beating heart.

You should be telling him that it’s wrong, that you don’t need this, but you don’t, letting yourself melt in his embrace instead.

Because for the first time, something about the way he holds you feels right.

Paris was weird, so much so that you were relieved the moment you arrived back in Korea. Even if it meant going back to your routine and getting drowned in backlog at work, it was better than having nothing to do, because having time to yourself meant having time to think about Brian Kang, which you found yourself to do every night before you went to sleep.

At first, you blamed it on the jet lag, but even after a week has passed and you've both well settled back into your usual rhythm which consisted of sleeping in your own separate rooms, you still found yourself thinking about him as you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if Brian thought about Paris just as much as you did, about how safe he made you feel as he wrapped you in his arms, about how the steady beat of his heart, as opposed to your erratic one, had lulled you to sleep even with the raging storm outside. You wondered if he missed your warmth the way you missed his, and how easy it was to fall asleep beside him, like your body has decided for you that his presence was something to seek comfort in.

You wanted to hate it. Because if you didn't, then you'd have to admit that it wasn't just his warmth that you missed— it was him.

And that was something you weren't ready to face, at least not yet.

So instead, you busied yourself with something— anything, to keep your mind off him. And somehow, that brought you here, standing in the kitchen with his grandmother, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and apron tied snugly around your torso as she guided you with a recipe.

You don't even know how you got here. One second, you were staring blankly at your kitchen counter, contemplating on whether to make yourself some instant noodles, and the next you're on the phone with Grandma Kang— and trust that even the mere thought of this is enough to make you cringe— if she could teach you how to make one of his favourite dishes.

You don't know what it is. Was it guilt? Gratitude? Or maybe— no. You weren't going to entertain the thought that it was something more than that. Perhaps, you just wanted to do something nice for him, to repay him for putting up with you, even make him a celebratory meal for successfully closing a deal after his meeting in Paris.

That was all to it.

"So, how was Paris?" Grandma Kang asks as she stirs pot of kimchi stew.

The old lady, bless her, had arrived within minutes from your phone call, eager to spend time with her— and you quote— her favourite granddaughter.

She was the only who ever really checked in on you ever since you and Brian got married, constantly calling just to ask how you are and reminding you to eat if you haven't. She's just like Brian, and the love you felt from her was one you never really got from your parents. It's warm, unconditional— real.

Which is why you feel guilty.

Because whatever you have with Brian isn't, and all you're doing is deceiving her and letting her believe in something that isn't true.

You swallow, pretending to focus on slicing the vegetables. "It was... nice."

"Just nice?" She muses with a raised brow. "I haven't seen my grandson that happy in a long time, you know."

"He's always happy," you say lightly. "Nothing new there."

"No, dear. This was different."

You don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. You don't want to look too much into the reason behind Brian's unusually good mood, according to his own grandmother.

Grandma Kang sets the spoon down before turning to you.

"I know, you know."

Your grip tightens around hilt of the knife. "Know what?"

She smiles at you. "About you and Younghyun. It isn't real, is it?"

You stomach twists at her words. "Grandma, I-"

"You don't have to explain anything, my dear. I'm old, not blind," she chuckles, turning back to the pot. "My grandson has a lot of love to give," she says gently. "And he does it without expecting anything in return."

You exhale shakily, setting your knife down. "I know that."

She hums. "Then you should know that he's not trying to hurt you. He never has." She pauses to sigh. "Stupid boy. I know he only got married to appease me. His parents set him up with so many girls, you know? He was always polite to them, but his heart was never fully in it. Until you." Grandma Kang smiles at you softly. "It's scary, right? But that's also the beauty of falling in love."

"I don't-" you cut yourself off. Because what could you even say? That she's wrong? That you don't-

You can't. Because then you think you'd be lying.

"Grandma? I didn't know you were coming over." Brian appears in the kitchen, surprise etched on his features. He has his blazer draped over his shoulder, his tie loosened, and the sight makes your throat dry.

His eyes are quick to find yours, and you quickly turn away before he could notice the tears welling in your eyes— tears you're only now registering are there in the first place.

You don't even want to know why you're crying— you seem to be doing that a lot lately— but you may have a hunch.

"Ah, these damn onions, am I right?" Grandma Kang huffs, planting her hands on your shoulders as she moves you behind her; you're silently grateful for that. You take that time to dab your eyes dry, clearing your throat slightly and hoping your red face wouldn't give you away. "Why? Is there something wrong with me wanting to spend time with my favourite granddaughter?"

"Of course not, Grandma," Brian says gently, and you hate how the softness of his voice affects you. By the time you turn around, he's already peering at the dishes on the island, and he looks up at you with a grin on his face. "Did you make all of this?"

Somehow, his question makes your cheeks burn. You think it's embarrassment, having been caught doing something nice for a husband you never wanted in the first place.

You don't even know who you are anymore.

"With a little help," you answer, but your voice comes off as quiet. If Brian notices how uncharacteristically awkward you're being, he doesn't say anything.

"Give yourself a little more credit, dear! Younghyun, a lady who can cook this well? You better treat her right, or I'll come knock some sense into you myself."

Brian doesn't look at his grandma despite her chiding, still looking at you like you're the most valuable thing in the world. "Don't worry, Grandma." His gaze grows softer. "I don't plan on letting her go anytime soon."

✦ ✦ ✦

You find yourself wide awake again despite it being way past midnight. It's turned into a routine at this point, and you have no one else to blame but your housemate who's probably already fast asleep at the other side of the house.

You groan. You hate Brian for making you feel this way, and you really wish you meant it.

Knowing that staying in your room wouldn't do you any good, you decide to head to the kitchen— perhaps a hot drink could help ease the turmoil in your heart.

But alas, your heart only starts to thump faster when you realise the lights are already on, and you find Brian leaning against the counter as he nurses a mug of tea.

"Hey. Can't sleep?"

Your words catch in your throat, so you settle with a nod as you open the refrigerator for the mere sake of wanting something to do.

"You shouldn't be drinking something cold this late. Want me to make you some tea?" He offers, and despite yourself, you still find it in you to roll your eyes at his gentle nagging.

"No, I'm good."

"Milk?"

"I'm not a child."

"I'm afraid that's about all the options I have for you then, love," Brian chuckles before he stops, tone growing softer now. "What's the matter?"

You close the door, finally turning to him. "What are you talking about?"

"You just seem distracted lately."

"I'm fine," you mutter, and even though you know Brian isn't convinced, he doesn't push any further.

"Listen, if you're having trouble sleeping..." he trails off. "You can stay with me."

You blink at his words. "What?"

"If you want to." He pauses as though to gauge for your response, before adding, "would it help?"

You hesitate. You hate how easy the way he says it, so gentle and sincere, giving you an out like he knows how much you struggle with expressing your thoughts.

And as much as you still do, you know there's no use in hiding it anymore when he's already seen through you completely.

So you settle with a nod, a slight one, but one Brian manages to catch nonetheless.

His smile doesn't widen, and he doesn't gloat. Instead, he sets his mug in the sink before he takes your hand. "C'mon," he says softly. "Let's go to sleep."

The walk back to his room is a quiet one, and by the time you step inside, Brian lets go of your hand just long enough to pull back the covers.

"Go on," he says, nodding towards the bed.

You stall, but only for a moment, before slipping under the sheets. The mattress dips as he settles in beside you, and any distance between the two of you disappears in an instant.

Brian shifts slightly, turning on his side to face you. "Better?" He murmurs.

You still don't trust yourself to speak, so you only nod.

He smiles at you then, lips quirking up ever so slightly as he reaches over, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. The touch is fleeting, but it sends something through you.

"Good," he whispers, and like it's the most natural thing in the world, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you close— just close enough for you to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat you missed.

And with your head resting just above his heart, you note the way his breaths even out as he falls asleep, and you know you should too, but your mind refuses to settle.

"Brian?" You call out softly, so softly you think you never meant for him to hear it at all. Maybe that's for the best.

"I think..." you swallow, gripping the fabric of shirt a little tighter. "I think I'm falling for you."

You let your words hang in the air, fragile yet certain, because you don't regret it at all.

And just like the first time Brian's held you in his arms, you feel like you could finally breathe again.

As it turns out, coming to terms with your feelings was more difficult than you thought, especially when every little thing Brian did seemed to mean something now.

The way his hand would find the small on your back when you crossed the street, the way he always ensured your coffee was the perfect temperature before handing it to you, even down to the way he looked at you— soft, knowing, like he could see right through every excuse you tried to make for yourself.

Still, you tried your best to brush it off. You're a grown woman, not some schoolgirl with a silly crush. You could handle this.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Which is why, when you find yourself at his workplace, lunch bag in hand with a bento box specially prepared (a completely normal, thoughtful thing to do), you ignore the way your heart races at the thought of seeing him.

His receptionist greets you with a smile, telling you that he's inside his office, and you make the short walk down the hallway. For some reason, you're nervous, and while you'd usually blame it on your nerves, you should have known that it was something else this time.

Because there he is, smiling with another woman as she laughs at whatever he'd said. And Brian— that asshole— isn't doing anything to stop her either. He doesn't stop her when she bats her eyelashes at him, leaning in too close for comfort, and he doesn't stop her when she calls him Younghyun.

Younghyun, the one name that for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to say, yet hated to hear from anybody else.

You left right then and there, slamming the bag on the receptionist's table on your way out.

"Tell him he can eat this if he wants," you mutter without turning back.

The poor receptionist stares at your retreating back before she hesitantly picks up the bag. You're obviously in a mood, and quite frankly, Eunji wanted no part of it. Not like she has a choice.

"Sir?" She knocks on Younghyun's door. "Your wife dropped this off."

Younghyun looks up from his paperwork, brows furrowed when he sees the bag in her hands. "I thought I told you to just let her in if she comes by."

"Well, yes." She tightens the grip on the bag. "I did send her to your office right away, sir, but she left not even a minute later."

Younghyun tilts his head as he stares at the bag. "And what time was this?"

"Five minutes ago, sir. She just left."

Younghyun takes in a breath before nodding. "Okay, just put in on the table. Thanks, Eunji."

Eunji nods before scurrying out, leaving Younghyun to lean against his chair, jaw tightening. This wasn't like you— it wasn't very often that you'd come by his office, only doing so when you started cooking, but the times that you do, you'd usually make him come down to get you, or at the very least, have a snarky remark at the ready as you handed him his food. But this? This was something else entirely.

Of course, the way you've been avoiding him recently wasn't lost on him, and Younghyun couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

He thought everything was fine— better than fine, even, now that you were sharing a bed, falling asleep in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, but somehow you felt more distant than ever.

He started noticing the little things at first— the way you still curled up next to him at night, but never reaching out to him first. He'd pull you close, only for you to stiffen for a moment before letting yourself melt in his embrace, as though you had to remind yourself that it was okay. The way you used to linger in the mornings, pretending to still be asleep so you wouldn't have to move away from him so soon, only to be the first to slip out of bed now. You barely meet his eyes when you talk to him, and you no longer found fault with him in the littlest things, be it the way he'd organise the fridge or how he'd double check his schedules multiple times even though nothing has changed.

And the worst part? You still made him coffee in the mornings, still took care of his meals, still made sure he had everything he needed— all except you, which was the one thing he actually did need.

The silence where your bickering used to be is almost worst than the distance. At least when you argued, it showed that you were paying attention to him.

Which is why now, when he finally finds you in the kitchen, awake and not pretending to be asleep to avoid him like you do, he decides to end this once and for all.

"You didn't tell me you dropped by earlier," he starts off, as casual as possible as he leans against the refrigerator, watching you do the dishes.

You don't even turn to him. "You seemed busy. Didn't want to interrupt."

"Busy? It was lunch time, love."

You don't answer, and Younghyun sighs. "Alright." He steps towards you before turning off the faucet, and you turn to him with a scowl on your face.

"Bri-"

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to force it out of you?"

You waver slightly, not all used to this sight of Brian. He's isn't necessarily angry, but the edge in his voice as opposed to the usual gentleness that you're used to is enough to tell you that he's, at the very least, annoyed.

Still, you hold his stare. "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie to me." He clenches his jaw. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," you retort through gritted teeth before attempting to move past him, but Brian cages you in between his arms. You glower at him. "Let me go."

"Is this about earlier?" He asks.

Your fingers twitch. "What?"

"You saw me with her, didn't you?"

Of course. Of course, he's seen through you yet again. You let out a humourless scoff, not ready to admit it just yet.

"You think I'm jealous? I don't care what you do, or who you talk to, Brian. I don't care if you want to let other people call you Younghyun, or if you want to flirt, or-"

"Flirt? Youngji's my cousin! She was at our wedding? She's getting married next month."

You part your lips to reply, but nothing comes out. The room feels unbearably still, the weight of your own foolishness settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Brian exhales sharply as he runs a hand through his hair, and he finally takes a step back for you to breathe. "You don't even call me Younghyun," he mutters, scoffing humourlessly. "But you hate hearing it from anybody else."

You shut your eyes. "Younghyun, I-"

"Say that again."

You breath hitches, and when you open your eyes, he's already looking at you.

You lips quiver, and you don't know what possesses you to obey, but his name rolls of your tongue again in a hushed whisper. "Younghyun."

He smiles at you, and you now realise it isn't the same one you see him give to Youngji. It isn't the same as the polite, effortless ones he gives to strangers, or the one he gives to his family, full of warmth.

No, this one is different.

This one is just for you.

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you finally understand.

"Now tell me," he urges gently as he takes your hands into his. "Tell me why it bothered you so much."

It seems like he already knows, and he's purposely giving you the chance to say it.

"Because I want to be the one to make you smile like that," you say quietly, and Younghyun scoffs as he shakes his head.

"Baby, do you even see the way I look at you?" He asks, almost in exasperation as though he couldn't believe you aren't getting it yet. "You think I look at everyone like they hung up all the stars in the sky? You think I smile at everyone like they're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me?" His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. "Because I don't. It's just you. It's always just been you."

You don't stop the tears that roll down your cheeks, and Younghyun is quick to catch them as he cups your face gently before he leans his forehead against yours.

"Tell me," he murmurs. "Whatever it is that you've been holding back. Say it."

"Younghyun." Your lips quiver, and he reassures you with an equally teary smile. "I'm in love with you."

Relief flickers across his face, and despite his own emotions, his lips widen even more in a way that makes your heart ache.

"I knew I wanted you the moment you called me to bail you out of jail," he says softly, as though going any louder would break the moment. "So if you say you love me," he swallows, throat working as he lets his first tear fall, "just know that I've loved you for way longer."

You let out a shaky laugh, biting your inner lip as more tears slip free. He chuckles, wiping them away again as she shakes his head.

"Can't believe you thought I'd look at anyone the way I look at you."

You sniff. "Shut up."

But you don't pull away when Younghyun leans in, and you don't stop him when he finally kisses you— soft and slow, like you have all the time in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, you think you do.

[livewithgratitude]

🌷🐻for sungjin: soft & unaware

Sungjin never really thinks about the things he does.

Like now—you're both walking down the street, hands in your pockets, when a gust of wind sweeps past, blowing a few strands of hair across your face. Without missing a beat, without even looking at you, Sungjin reaches out and tucks them gently behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek for just a second—warm, calloused, so casual—before he pulls away like it’s nothing.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe.

But Sungjin just keeps walking, completely unaware of how your brain short-circuited in real-time.

Or earlier, when you were sitting across from him at a café. He was talking about something—music, probably—but you weren’t paying attention because he had just reached over, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth.

“You had something here,” he had said, still focused on his drink, still so unaware that your soul had just left your body.

And then there’s the way he always brushes dust off your sleeve, or tugs your hoodie straight when it rides up, or steadies you with a firm hand at the small of your back when you stumble. Like it’s instinct. Like taking care of you isn’t even something he thinks about—it’s just something he does.

The worst part? He never notices how it affects you.

Like right now.

You’re standing next to him, still reeling from the way he tucked your hair away so effortlessly, and he—completely oblivious—turns to you with that easy, boyish grin.

“You good?” he asks, sipping his drink.

No. No, Sungjin. I am not good.

But you just nod, swallowing hard.

Because how are you supposed to tell him? How are you supposed to say, Hey, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? Do you realize how crazy you make me feel with just the smallest things?

He’d probably just laugh and call you dramatic.

So instead, you just keep walking.

And pray that Sungjin never, ever figures out just how weak he makes you.

[dearly-somber]

I’m Yours | k.yh | day6

-> pairing. non-idol!younghyun x female reader

-> genre. fluff, s2l (strangers-to-lovers), university!au, pining

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 886

-> warnings. none!

-> a/n. I’m you-o-o-o-ours

-> collection. songfic

-> started. ???

-> fin. Oct. 18th, 2020 @ 20:23

-> edited. Fri., Jul. 14th, 2023 @ 23:45

Light summer breeze. Petals falling down in the most satisfying way, pooling at your feet as you walk to the beat of your heart, holding the handle of your umbrella tight enough to whiten your knuckles.

The crickets were out now that the darkness had fallen, a slight drizzle of rain warming your blood. You were wearing an oversized sweater and some shorts that were hidden underneath the fabric you wore on your upper half, a pair of old sneakers to match.

You had decided to take a late night walk, eyes red and puffy from too much crying. You had been having some boy trouble and had been embarrassed in front of probably your whole university, so crying was the only way to make you feel less shitty, and no one could tell you otherwise. You had been walking for a few minutes and stopped by your favorite café near Han River, going to stand over the bridge running over the river after ordering yourself some coffee. You were sniffing the air with closed eyes when you suddenly opened them to what you had assumed was an angel, before you realized that he didn't have wings.

He was wearing a creamy beige turtle neck sweater and jeans with ankle high boots, his black hair falling very gently into his face and accentuating his jawline as he watched the water as if it was the most interesting thing on earth. He had a see-through umbrella over his shoulder, the fairy lights that were attached to it only making him look that much more angelic, if it were possible.

You continued shamelessly staring at the gorgeous stranger, eventually wandering over and standing next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts, stranger?" you asked in a light voice, a warm smile adorning your face.

The angel turned to look at you slowly, eyes jumping around questioningly, as if to ask "Who? Me?"

You immediately decide that this angel was cute and that you wanted to keep him, your smile getting wider. Just a few hours ago you had embarrassed yourself in front of everyone you knew while talking to a boy that you liked, yet here you were making it seem effortless.

"Do I know you?" He asked in the most honey like voice you had ever heard, the sound strangely addictive. Still smiling, you shook your head with a shrug.

"Not at all." You giggled childishly at the way his brow furrowed in confusion, at his mercy, completely helpless to his charms. "I just noticed the way you were staring at the water and you look like you're thinking very deeply about something," you explained, heart jumping into his hands when he laughed in disbelief, tilting his head at you with a smile.

"Is that so?"

You nodded, your cheeks starting to ache from smiling too much.

"Why don't I tell you over a cup of coffee, since we're at a café?" he asked cheekily, a grin pulling at his lips.

You nodded eagerly, taking his hand and pulling him over to the seating area. You turned to look at him with a grin of your own before saying, "Great idea! I've already ordered."

---

After sitting down he introduced himself as Kang Younghyun, occasionally called Brian by his close friends, who was majoring in Business at your university with Music as his extra classes. You told him your name, telling him that you’re majoring in Writing, hoping to become an editor (since you weirdly enough enjoy editing), and that you were taking art and music as extra classes.

"So then, Younghyun, you sill haven't answered my first question," you said matter-of-factly, sipping at your latte with a raised brow.

"Oh, that? I thought that was you flirting?" he mused with a smirk, the teasing tone in his voice making you chortle.

"Oh no it was, but I'm genuinely curious," you said, chortling at the way he laughed disbelievingly.

"I was thinking about how I need to man up and ask this girl I like in my music class out." he said, shrugging as he sighed deeply.

"Oh, you like someone?" you asked dejectedly, playing with your coffee cup. Brian nodded, sighing again.

"Well then," you said, slamming your fist against the table and gaining not only Younghyun's attention but a few people around you's attention as well.

"I say, go for it! I doubt you have anything to lose," you encouraged him confidently. He raised a brow with a smirk, looking at you as if to say "excuse me what?"

You rolled your eyes before starting to explain.

"Listen, Brian—can I call you Brian?"

"Go ahead." He smiled.

"Right then, Brian, listen. You seriously have nothing to lose. Maybe a smudge of pride but that's nothing. I mean have you seen yourself? I'm sure every girl would be willing to throw themselves at you, hell, sign me up!" you rambled on, hands all over the place and not realizing the way Younghyun was looking at you.

"You really think so?" he asked softly, making you think of a puppy, your heart melting.

You nodded solemnly, smiling at him.

"Definitely."

With the most shit eating grin ever, he cleared his throat. "Okay, then. Y/N, I really like you and would like to take you to dinner."

“Oh, shit.”

[dayfics]

Hi! 22 and 50 with Sungjin. Thank u ❤

Sungjin & 22. “Show me how much you missed me.” + 50. "Please, I can't sit still."

♡ Send me a request!

1.5k words

I couldn't resist writing reader w/ a praise kink. It fit well with the prompt, sorry! Also hereafter if you guys would like to specify who says the dialogue (in case I got it wrong, haha), I don't mind at all.

You were just about to fall asleep on the couch when you heard the front door of your apartment unlock – Sungjin was finally home. He'd been gone on a work trip for the last two weeks, and you'd whiled away the time trying to meet your deadlines, watching movies and texting him whenever the both of you were free. But in spite of regular contact, what you missed the most was his touch. The way he would put his arms around you when sitting together, feeling his warmth as you slept on your shared bed, and of course, the more intimate moments.

It'd been so long since you felt his fingers in you, or sucked him off, or even kissed him. Two weeks, yes – but when it came to Sungjin, even one day without his touch had you experiencing withdrawals.

So when he walked into the apartment, you jolted awake and ran over to give him a hug; he was dressed in a simple suit but you couldv'e sworn he had gotten more handsome in the past two weeks.

You relaxed completely as soon as you felt his arms around you, one of his hands coming to stroke your hair like it always did. You loved that little habit he had whenever he hugged you. "Hey, sweetheart," you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Sungjin, god, I missed you so much," you warbled into his chest, taking in his warmth, hugging him tighter.

"I know, I know, me too..." he cooed, closing the door with his foot for privacy.

After a minute or two, Sungjin kissed the top of your head as he tried to pull away, but you didn't move. You felt more than heard the deep chuckle that came from him, before he said, "I'm all yours, baby. Just let me freshen up and I'll be with you in five minutes."

You reluctantly let him go into the bathroom, knowing that he couldn't fully relax till he was clean. You could appreciate that about him.

After five agonising minutes, Sungjin emerged in all his wet-haired glory, wearing a loose shirt and shorts. It was embarrassing how turned on you were, but who could blame you? You watched as he shook a towel on his hair and put his used clothes in the laundry basket. You admired his legs and strong arms, the way his shirt spiked slightly as he dried his hair and, well, everything about him. He was so, so classically handsome, and you were beginning to crave him more and more.

He walked over to the sofa, where you were sitting, but you decided to stand up and meet him halfway instead, catching his amused face before you tiptoed to kiss him. Your hands roamed over his chest and torso, desperate to be closer to him. Sungjin held you by the waist, and the feeling of his hands on you, but not doing anything, was almost enough to make you cry of frustration. You whined helplessly against his lips, grabbing onto his arms.

The kisses grew more passionate, and his hands started to move along your back, causing you to shiver involuntarily. You were getting more worked up by the minute, and you could tell Sungjin was too, by the way he grunted against your lips. Soon enough you were breathless and reluctantly broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

He moved his hand to cup your face. "I missed you." he said again, looking into your eyes with so much love and admiration.

"I missed you more," you said, leaning into his touch. You took his other hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with his.

"Oh, yeah? Show me how much," he smirked.

You were mildly surprised, because you didn't see this playful side of Sungjin often in intimate moments. But you loved to please, so you promptly sunk to your knees in front of him. The slight raise of his eyebrow told you he was taken aback by your eagerness, and the way he looked at you intently was causing an almost unbearable throb between your legs.

You knew, though, that if you were good for him now, he'd be amazing to you later. So you ignored your needs for the time being, and instead slowly moved your hands up his thighs over his boxers. You pulled them down by the waistband, biting your lip as you immediately felt yourself get wetter when you saw his dick in front of you. Sungjin carded a hand through your hair with a lazy smirk on his face; he loved watching your reactions.

You started with a few strokes along his length before you took him in your mouth. He let out a low groan. "Fuck, you feel so good," he said in a tone that made you squeeze your thighs, desperate for some relief.

His grip in your hair tightened as he started to control your movements, picking up the pace. When you went as far down as you could, and your nose pressed against Sungjin's abdomen, he held you there for a bit, and you tried your best to relax your throat to take him in. "Ah, Y/N... you're so good for me, such a good girl."

You interlocked your fingers in an effort to control yourself; to have him praise you like this after what felt like forever was almost torturous. You started to tear up a little as his movements sped up, your eyes fluttering shut as Sungjin continued to guide you on his dick. "Look at me," he commanded, and you glanced up at him through your eyelashes to his handsome face, damp hair falling on his forehead. "Lean back baby, let me fuck your mouth, can you do that for me?"

Of course you could. You loved being good for him, even now, even though you were so desperate to feel him you could cry. You sat back on your heels. Your immediate obedience was intoxicating to Sungjin, you were so eager to please him. "God, you're an angel," he murmured almost to himself; you looked so sweet in this moment, even though his dick was in your mouth. "Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

He bunched up your hair to have better control of you before he thrusted into your mouth, starting slow so he didn't hurt you. You tried your best to keep your eyes open, the view too erotic to miss: Sungjin's head slightly tilted backwards, his mouth occasionally leaving a shaky breath, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. Your knuckles were white from the effort it took to stay still — your panties were soaking at this point and it was obvious how needy you were.

You could tell he was close by his grip on your hair and the soft moans he let out. The sight and sounds in front of you were so sinfully pleasing you almost couldn’t bear it — Sungjin was fucking hot.

He picked up the pace for a time before asking, “Can I cum in your mouth, sweetheart?”, the nickname wildly contradictory to what he was doing with you. You moaned around his dick, which he took as a yes and which brought him to his orgasm.

You swallowed without him asking, which he swore could’ve made him cum again untouched. He tilted your chin to look up at him, moving some stray hair from your face. Sungjin always made an effort to be gentle with you, especially after rougher moments like these.

“You were so good, baby,” he smiled down at you, “do you want anything else? Hm? Let me make you feel good.”

You looked so beautiful with your slightly disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, sitting down and looking up at him with teary eyes. Wait, teary?

On realising you were crying, Sungjin immediately knelt down with concern on his face. He brought his other hand to your face and gently wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“Are you okay, darling? Was I too rough? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise…”

“Please fuck me, Sungjin…”

“…What?”

Your emotions were all over the place, and Sungjin’s clear shock made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. More of the crying though, because you wanted him so bad it was unbearable.

“Need you to fuck me, please, I can't sit still, missed you so much,” you rambled through small sobs, not even caring about how desperate you sounded. It was all true, anyway.

Sungjin closed his eyes with a small chuckle, relieved that he didn’t hurt you. He wondered what incredibly noble thing he might’ve done in another life to deserve someone like you in this one. Saved a country, maybe? “You,” he said, hands moving to hold yours, “are going to be the death of me.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry.”

[mingyusleftbigtoe]

I NEED DAY6 FANFICS TO FEED MY DELUSION😭😭 THE POST CONCERT DEPRESSION IS HITTING💔💔

[yoonguurt]

note: just because these groups are in the archive does not mean I’m not writing for them. it just means i’m not actively writing for them. any series planned for one of these groups will most likely be recast with a group i’m actively writing for or scrapped.

most works are 18+ (minors dni)

♤ - angst || ♡ - fluff || ♧ - smut

✍ - ongoing || ✗ - discontinued || ⎋ - hiatus || ✓ - completed

drabbles

☁ stages of jealousy || m.yoongi ♤

⤜ When your friend with benefits goes out with someone else, you make sure to find a way to bring him back to you; 788

☁ sick day || j.hoseok ♡

⤜ Your boyfriend takes care of you when you're sick; 791

☁ something new || m.yoongi ♧

⤜ You're needy and your boyfriend is more than willing to help; 990

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

series

☁ world of darkness || ot8 ♧

⤜ a series of one shots featuring supernatual bts; --

oneshots

☁ taken || p.jaehyung ♧

⤜ a new boy in your mythology class seems to think he knows about the myths first hand; 6,521

drabbles

☁ territorial || k.jongin ♧

⤜ After running away from your pack and arranged marriage, the man you were supposed to marry comes to bring you back; 2,066

drabbles

☁ for the grade || i.jaebeom ♧

⤜ Being forced to work on an important project with the man you despise makes you rethink what you thought you knew; 5,506

☁ finally || m.tuan ♡

⤜ All you want is Mark, but you could never tell him that; 619

☁ heartbeat || k.yugyeom ♡

⤜ Being pregnant is not what you need right now, but your boyfriend won't let you worry alone; 809

☁ wild ride || i.jaebeom ♧

⤜ Teasing your boyfriend may not have been the best idea. Or maybe it had; 1,172

☁ welcome home || k.yugyeom ♧

⤜ You welcome your boyfriend home in the best way you know how; 647

drabbles

☁ tell me baby || l.hoseok ♤

☁ maybe one day || l.minhyuk ♤

⤜ Loving your best friend when he's gone all the time is hard on the heart; 381

⤜ Minhyuk finally gathers the courage to confess; 647

☁ mine || l.jooheon ♧

⤜ You get more than you bargained for when you make an attempt to see what your husband has been hiding; 2,083

reactions

☁ ghost hunting with monsta x

⤜ What it would be like to go ghost hunting with the boys; 382

series

☁ a familiar face || y.kihyun ♤

⤜ You meet a man who feels awfully familiar, but you've never seen him before. :: 01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05

drabbles

☁ dance for me || m.lee ♧

⤜ You never expected taking dance lessons would lead to having the hot dance teacher's hand down your pants; 2,246

series

☁ quatervois || m.lee, n.yuta ♧

⤜ You've been with Mark for so long. Your best friend Yuta despises him. He swears he has a reason. :: 01 || 02

©️ yoonguurt. do not repost, continue, or translate my works. graphics by kwanisms

[amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix]

there you'll be || day6 [psj]

Warnings: major character death, heavy angst(?)

I won't control you, but MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: Park Sungjin/(F) Reader, implied past Yoon Dowoon/(F) Reader

Plot: What if you only have today to say goodbye?

Genre: Established Relationship

I keep a part of you with me,

And everywhere I am, there you'll be

This was written 8-9ish years ago, and re-written and posted on ao3 3 years ago.

This concept came from my sister's dream, and she asked me to write it, and probably the main reason why i decided to have an ao3 account lmao

This was originally written with a different fandom and pairing and was supposed to be a part of this fic universe i wrote (but didn't finish). Re-written so it can be better, I guess (hope)??? but the concept is still the same with some major changes tho

Reposted here because there is a tragic lack of day6/reader fics uwu

anyway, all readers are appreciated! luvluv

🕛

6:00 – 7:00 a.m.

Y/N woke up to an irritating sound. It was this shrill beeping sound that made her want to hurl the object at the wall.

When she opened her eyes, she reached for the alarm clock and turned it off. "Shut up," she said, exhausted, and looked at the time. 6:00 am.

For an ordinary Saturday morning, six am is way too early. After dropping out of the university from her second course and running away with Sungjin, Y/N's life has changed; from the simplest things like her sleeping pattern to the biggest ones like missing her family. She wouldn't say she regrets it, she just wishes the situation was different.

Her usual weekends start at nine, and she always wakes up before Sungjin does. She would often be the one to go down to make breakfast for the two of them.

Sometimes though, when struck with an ahem inspiration, she would wake him with a lazy hand job—or a blowie, whichever she prefers—until he slightly shifts position and fist the bed covers. Slowly peppering his hips with kisses until Sungjin groans in annoyance to whichever is rousing him from his beloved, peaceful sleep. Y/N has to stifle her laughter because she knows just how grumpy he is when woken up 'too early', but how he won't be able to stay mad at her. He'd smile down at her and say in that sexy just-woke-up voice of his that he'd go back to sleep so Y/N can go ahead with what shennanigans she was trying to do.

Today though, that was not the case. She has to get up early because the local high school she volunteers at made a weekend program for writing and music. Every second Saturday, she would be facilitating two classes; a writing workshop in the morning, and the music sessions in the afternoon. Sometimes, she would take Sungjin with her, and he would teach the students how to play the guitar.

After switching the alarm off, Y/N got up and stretched her legs and arms, loving the way her joints popped as sleep from her muscles fade.

It's also during this time of the day, however, that she can't help but think of her life before this.

It has been five years. Y/N is sure her children doesn't recognize her anymore. After running away with the boyfriend of her ex-husband's twin brother, she's sure Dowoon would never let her be a part of their children's lives anymore, no matter how much he used to love her. Betrayal would definitely kill people.

Y/N padded sleepily to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

After getting ready for the day, she went down to cook some breakfast for them. Before leaving the house, she decides to check on Sungjin and wake him up early for his doctor's appointment. He sleeps through the alarm, and might miss his appointment.

She opens the door to their room quietly and see Sungjin's still sleeping form on the bed. She gently shakes him, just enough to wake him up.

"Sungjin?" She shakes him again when he doesn't respond. "Babe? Wake up."

Sungjin hums, cracking an eye open. "I'd be going," she says with a soft smile.

"Hmf... don't you want me to go with you?" He asks sleepily as he rubs his eyes. Y/N shakes her head, running her fingers through his hair.

"It's fine. You have your appointment today with Dr. Park, remember? Wouldn't wanna miss that." Sungjin pouts, and she smiles. "I'll bring home that Kimchi stew you like."

"Yeah?" He smiles at her hopefully through bleary eyes.

"Yes. So get your lazy ass up now, or you'll have to rush again." She slaps his bum and kisses his lips before she stands up. "I'll be home early. Get up now, 'kay? Love you." She shuts the door to the bedroom just in time to hear the faint and almost muffled love you too from Sungjin.

She leaves the house minutes later, not helping the smile on her face. She thinks that at the end of the day, after all the heartbreaks and challenges they had to face, running away with him is always worth it.

9:40 am

Y/N gives the students their second writing exercise for the day. She walks around the room and smiles down at Charlie, one of her favorite students in the writing program. The kid is really talented in writing.

Y/N wonders fleetingly about her twins. She wonders if they will inherit their father's love for music books, or her love for long novels? She puts her arm around the other and smiles to herself. She wants to see her children badly and maybe, just maybe, have some with Sungjin in the future.

10:30 am

Y/N was just about to tell her students to take a 15-minute break when she heard a commotion outside. One of the teachers ran up to her classroom with panic in her eyes. Y/N immediately knew something was wrong.

"What is it?" she asked.

"There's someone with a gun!" It took Y/N a minute to fully get that. "He's in the building. Send your students out."

She didn't need to be told twice. "Class, I need you to leave everything behind and quickly exit the room." She tried to keep her voice even so as not to alarm them. She didn't want them panicking, even though she felt like throwing up.

"Now!" She hoped her students can forgive her for raising her voice (she never does), but now's not the right time to think about that. Both teachers looked out while the students filed out of the room hurriedly.

"Did someone call 911?" she asked as the last student got out of the room. The other teacher's answer was cut short by the sound of gunfire, followed by screaming.

"Go, go, go!" Y/N yelled at the students as they all ran towards the direction of the stairs.

Y/N was nearing the stairs when pain blooms in her shoulder. She didn't dare look back as a second one hits her back, then her leg. That's when she lost her balance, and crumple to the ground face down. She heard more screaming as students ran for their lives before she felt the bullet to her neck, and she's—

12:00 pm

Y/N raises her head from the table with a gasp.

Disoriented, she looks around and blinks. She doesn't know she had been snoozing. Had she been snoozing? It feels like she had only blinked.

Huh.

She looks at the clock; 12:00 pm.

She hears the chatter of the students outside as she sees the essay exercises on her table. When she looks up, however, the classroom is a mess. The students' things are everywhere, and the chairs are all askew.

She remembers the panic and running, but nothing else. What happened after that?

She tries to recall as she flexes her head, pressing lightly at the pain in her neck. Not being able to come up with anything from her bizarre dream(?), she starts to clean up the mess.

1:08 pm

Y/N had successfully cleaned up the messy classroom by herself. She didn't notice that there were no students on the floor anymore. She slung her bag to her back and locked up the classroom.

It wasn't until she reached the second floor that she saw another soul. It was, however, a police officer.

What the...?

She walked towards the man, and called out to him.

"Excuse me?" He didn't seem to notice her. She called out to him again to no avail, the police turning his back on her.

"What the fuck?" Bothered, she continued down to the ground floor, where she saw more police officers.

She tried to talk to another police officer, but she was still ignored. She was getting frustrated and weirded out with each passing second. It's like they cannot see her. She didn't understand what's happening and felt her head spin, eyes prickling with tears of confusion.

She looked around, and finally, one person seemed to see her. The lady was looking straight at her. Relieved, Y/N walked towards her; she didn't know why, but she felt compelled to talk to her.

When she was close to the lady, she tripped a little on her own feet. She looked down and when she looked back up, the lady vanished.

"Looking for me?"

Y/N spun around to reveal the lady that had been staring at her.

"Yes..." Y/N said, torn between feeling embarrassed and confused. "But, you're there before. How...?"

The lady smiled at her. "You have more important questions to be answered, don't you think?" Y/N, who was dumbfounded, had just managed to nod.

"Come with me," the lady said. She turned around and started walking away, not waiting for Y/N to respond.

1:45 pm

Y/N cannot believe her eyes. She, or more accurately, her body, has been lying on a body bag in the quadrangle.

"B-but... h-how...?" She can only stammer in confusion.

This is just not possible. Y/N tries to breathe in and out to stop the spinning of her head, clutching her hands in each other.

She finally turns to the lady beside her, who is still staring at her lifeless body.

"You got killed," she answers Y/N's unspoken obvious question. "You're one of the last people he'd managed to kill before he was taken down by the police."

When the lady points at the bullet hole on her neck, a picture flashes through her mind.

Y/N remembers the pain through her shoulder, then her back and leg. Lastly, she remembers the blinding pain on her neck after falling to the ground.

After long minutes of disbelief, Y/N finds it in her to finally speak, her voice hoarse from the brimming emotions in her eyes. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

She badly wants to believe that maybe she was really just dreaming. Maybe this is all just a practical joke. By whom, she doesn't know.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Her companion just shakes her head. "I'm so sorry."

That was the last straw for Y/N. Tears pour from her eyes as her world comes crashing down and her dreams shatter. She falls to her knees as she sobs her heart out.

She isn't ready to die yet.

Maybe this is payback for everything she did, for everyone she killed.

Sungjin.

How is he supposed to move on? How is she supposed to move on?

"Sungjin." She sniffs. "Don't I even have the chance to say goodbye? I wanna say goodbye to him."

"You only have until before midnight," the lady says.

"Thank you," Y/N replies.

The lady just smiles at her sadly, her eyes telling her that she understands how she feels. She wonders briefly if they had been in the same situation. The lady vanishes right before her eyes, leaving Y/N with a broken heart.

2:50 pm

She looks for Sungjin at the clinic, but he was not there. She goes home and he was there, sleeping soundly on the sofa. His arm has a band-aid, for his tetanus jab.

Sungjin hates getting shots the most. Y/N knows he hates hospitals and injections, and has a big mistrust with the institution, and it makes her chest swell with love for him.

It makes her heart shatter, though. It's so hard to leave and say goodbye to someone you had forsaken your world for, especially when you're starting to think that everything is turning out fine. She was just starting to build her world with him, planning their future and thinking of having kids.

Sungjin looks so peaceful and beautiful, having no care in the world that Y/N just wants to frame this moment. She knows she can't, so she'll just watch over him for as long as she can. Maybe it will last longer than taking a picture, or maybe it can stop the time. If not, then she can at least keep this picture embedded in her mind before she disappears forever.

3:38 pm

Sungjin shifts from his position, rubbing his eyes and yawning on his hands. Y/N wipes her eyes with the back of her hand so he won't see the tears that had been steadily streaming down her face for the past hour. His eyes find her, and smiles that beautiful smile she fell in love with.

It sends her heart skidding on the floor, and to splinter a little more at the thought of leaving him. She bites her lip to keep the tears from falling further, and smiles back at him.

"Hey," she says, barely keeping her voice steady.

"Hey," Sungjin smiles at hear again, but his smile crumples when he takes in her bloodshot eyes and runny nose. He shoots up and engulfs her in a tight hug.

It was the wrong thing to do as Y/N loses it again, tears escaping down her cheeks. He rubs her back soothingly.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Are you okay?"

"I love you. Please never ever forget that," is all she can say.

"And I love you more." Sungjin pulls away and cups her face into his hands. "Now tell me what's wrong—and don't you try to lie. I know you so well."

She debates telling him because he deserves the truth, but she can't find the right words to say. "I'm fine," she sniffs and shakes her head. "I'm okay."

"You're definitely not okay." He pulls away and holds her arms. He frowns when he notices her body's dropped temperature. "Where have you been? You're awfully cold!"

"I'm fine. School's let out early." Y/N sits up straight and smiles, wiping at her tears. "Did you—have you seen the news?"

Y/N is nervous to ask that, but she has to know. She knows he would be shattered when he knows that he's talking to a ghost. Technically, Sungjin can still touch her, but she's already a ghost.

She also can't forgive herself for breaking their promise of forever.

"Not yet," Sungjin says. "I was so tired and sleepy so I had to go straight home. But we can turn on the TV anyw—"

"No!" Y/N grips his hand, cutting him short of turning on the TV. She looks close to tears again that he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"No." Y/N composes herself with a fake smile to appease the surprised features on his face. "I'm just asking. I'm sorry for yelling."

"You're acting weird," Sungjin says.

Y/N puts on her best I'm-okay face and smiles at him. "I'm okay. I just had a snooze at work and I had a bad dream."

I wish this was all just a bad dream.

"I just want to make sure you don't forget I love you, you know? Despite everything that happened to us." She looks down and smiles sadly. "I'm sorry I made you worry for nothing."

Sungjin pouts, but pulls her into another hug. "It's fine, babe. I just love you more and more every second because you're the only person who loved me truly, and never left me."

Y/N's heart can't get any more broken.

5:55 pm

For the past few hours, Y/N and Sungjin were just curled up on the loveseat. They were watching a sappy romcom that seemed to mock her in the face as it was about leaving a loved one behind and coming back for them. On the other hand, it's a good reason for her to cry her eyes out without raising suspicion, safe and snug under Sungjin's arms.

Too bad, the peace doesn't last forever.

7:40 pm

Y/N is currently waiting for Sungjin to come back. She originally opposed to the idea because she has a bad feeling about it, but he said that he needs to get some food (since Y/N forgot to bring home some). It has already been an hour since he went out, and the store was only a 15-minute walk—five if you use a car.

What is taking him so long?

8:20 pm - 9:45 pm

Y/N was just about to go looking for Sungjin when the front door opens and shuts with a slam. Next came the heavy footsteps that sounded urgent and almost running.

Y/N stands up and was about to see if it was him (who else would it be?), when he comes running into the living room. He was panting and has a disheveled appearance, eyes puffy with the evident tear-stained tracks in his face.

Shit.

"Sungjin...?" Y/N steps forward, but Sungjin steps backwards. "Babe...?"

"Who are you?" he asks as he tilts his head to the side, an incredulous, almost crazed look in his eyes.

"What?" she asks, knowing fully well what is going on. "It's me, Y/N! What kind of stupid sh—"

"You're NOT Y/N!" Sungjin almost yells. He walks towards her and shakes her by her shoulders. "Who are you? What did you do to her?"

"Babe, it's me!"

"No!" He lets go of her and walks to the other side of the room, his back against her. He turns around, and he has tears in his eyes. "You're not her."

"I am!" she cries out, but he refuses to listen. His mouth is curled in an angry sneer. "I know it sounds absurd, but I came back for you... to say goodbye."

"How can I believe that, huh?" he laughs, but there is no humor in his voice. "Ghosts are not real, whoever you are."

Oh.

"How can you expect me to believe what you were saying?" he asks, but she can't give him an answer. "Answer me!" he screams when she stays silent.

Y/N suddenly feels tired. Heartbroken.

"I love you," she says instead. She looks down at her hands, and see that she is starting to fade as time passes by.

Sungjin laughs a ruthless laugh, not noticing the change in her, and it breaks her heart even more. She can't find it in herself to cry, mainly because she's already cried out as heck, and it's not like it will change anything.

"Just stay away from me," Sungjin says, face taut with anger. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Y/N can only nod. She debates reaching out to touch him, but backs out at the last second. She leaves her coat by the door, and gets out into the cold night.

She's already cold, anyway.

11:15 pm

Y/N begins to think about how her life has been and thinks how far she'd come. She's pretty proud of herself for coming this far.

She would want to say goodbye to her kids and to Dowoon as well, but it's not like that's in the cards right now.

She looks at her wristwatch, the one Sungjin gifted her for her birthday.

11:15 pm.

Right, 45 minutes left.

It's funny how she can't cry anymore, probably because she's past the sixth stage of grief. She thinks she had already accepted that she will be gone by midnight, and crying makes no sense at this point. It's not like it'll bring her back, or bring Sungjin back.

Speaking of which, she looks to her left and there Sungjin is at the other side of the park. She's pretty sure he hasn't seen her yet, so she stands up and keep her head down.

She walks toward a more secluded part of the park, not risking a glance back at him. She doesn't want to fight with him again. She'd rather go quietly without an affair, than have a big blow up with Sungjin. After all, this what she's good at; running away.

"Y/N!"

Ah, shit.

Y/N tries to walk faster without seeming like she was running away from him. If she runs away, he'll know she heard him. Y/N walks on, chanting a nopenopenope in her head.

Nope, indeed.

Nearly there.

"Y/N, please," Sungjin says, sounding out of breath and too near. "Wait."

Just keep yourself together.

"Y/N!" Sungjin grabs her wrist, spinning her around.

Her gaze lands on her wrist, and she sees that she was fading away fast. She pulls her hand back to her fast, careful not to draw attention to it. Too late though, because Sungjin's eyes are drawn to it.

She pulls the sweater's sleeve to cover her wrist and clear her throat. "Yeah." She laughs awkwardly. "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's true, then." Sungjin's face crumple. He looks younger, almost like a kid. "I was hoping it was just delirium from the shots."

She laughs quietly. "You don't get delirious from shots."

Silence.

Y/N takes a deep breath, and smiles like her heart's not on fire. "I'll be going."

"Where?" he asks in a small voice.

She shrugs. "Hell, maybe?"

That turns out to be the wrong thing to say, because Sungjin bursts into tears a few moments later.

No, no, no.

"I'm sorry," she says as she takes a step towards him. She suddenly stops, him asking her to stay away still ringing in her ears.

"I'm sorry," even though she doesn't know if she's saying sorry for the joke or for ruining his life. "Sorry."

"I was hoping—" he says as he hiccups, wiping at his tears. "I was hoping this was all just a practical joke."

Y/N smiles sadly, still keeping her distance. She badly wants to pull him into a hug, but she can't.

"Do you regret it?" she asks him after a minute of silence. He looks at her and it breaks her heart, but she just can't bear not knowing before leaving. "Do you regret choosing me?"

"No," he insists, shaking his head. "Never."

She nods with a small smile. Me, too.

"Thank you," she says. "That's all I need to know."

She turns toward the other side of the park, but he walks in front of her and blocks her way.

"Don't go," he begs almost desperately. He kneels in front of her and hugs her legs, still crying like a kid. "Please just take me with you."

"Sungjin..."

"Please," he cries harder. "Please please please."

Y/N unwraps his arms around her legs, and kneels with him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Please don't leave me," he cries on her sweater. "You're all I have."

11:55 pm

Five minutes.

They spent the last almost-hour talking and crying. They reminisced about everything, and Y/N apologized, mostly. Everything she failed to say, and failed to make him feel. She spared nothing.

She looks at her wristwatch. 11:55 pm.

Her hands are almost transparent at this point.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't able to keep my promise" she says, taking Sungjin's hand in hers. "I mean it when I said I love you, and I want you to be happy—"

"—I can't be," Sungjin replies. At least he had stopped crying, but it looks like he was about to again.

Three minutes.

"Close your eyes, babe." He does, and she kisses his lips one last time.

"I'm gonna miss you," she says. "I'll wait for you, okay?"

"I won't take long." Sungjin's voice is quivering.

One minute.

"I love you." Her skin starts to glow while she was speaking, her body flowing like ashes in the wind and drifting upwards.

"I love you, too," Sungjin says.

When he opens his eyes, he was alone on the park bench.

He stays there for a long time, wishing she heard him.

She did, and she carried his love with her to the dark skies.

fin

[smileyyoungchan]

Hi :)

I’m gonna start writing for NCT and TXT as well :)

Plus I have a potential big project coming up… we’ll see :)

[xinganhao]

121U 📢 soonyoung x reader.

do you remember the annoying guy from your after-school taekwondo class? you don't even really care much for the sport anymore; you just want to get back at him for making your life a living hell.

ⓘ part of my how is your youth? mini-series. includes: childhood rivals/enemies, cussing, alcohol consumption and intentional typos. a very special shoutout to @sarangcoups, who served as a v.i.c (very important consultant) on the intricacies of spiteful taekwondo. <3

Kwon Soonyoung, taekwondo instructor/personal trainer. 28 years old.

👤 When you think of your youth, what do you think of?

🐯 What are you talking about?! I'm still youthful! I'm one of the kids, you know?

👤 ...

🐯 Jihoon-ah, so uptight~ Fine, fine. My youth— [pauses] Well, some people might think it's sad, but I spent a lot of time in dojangs. Sports have always been a part of me. And it's not sad! Because it's something I loved to do! It's never sad if you're happy to be there. I'm lucky I found what I liked at such an early age, and got to do it for the rest of my life.

👤 How has your youth shaped who you are now as a person?

🐯 ... Huh.

👤 What?

🐯 That's a hard question. Pass.

👤 There is no 'pass'. You signed a contract.

🐯 Did I? I would like to invoke my right against self-incrimination.

👤 ...

🐯 [sighs heavily] Fiiine. How my youth shaped me, huh? Well— [pauses] I know better now.

👤 You know better now.

🐯 Yeah. Hey, hey, hey. Don't look at me like that— pan the camera! Show how disbelieving he looks!— anyway. I know better now. There's a lot of things I could have done when I was younger. Could've been nicer, for instance. Some people run from their past, but I carry my youth with me. It's a constant reminder that while I've gotten far, I've still got much further to go.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ 121U by day6. there is a light that never goes out by the smiths. i bet my life by imagine dragons. maybe by the ridleys. ikaw pa rin ang pipiliin ko by cup of joe. you're gonna go far by noah kahan.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[livewithgratitude]

🍀THE BOYFRIEND CYCLE

It starts the same way every month.

A slow, hazy awareness pulls you from sleep, something feeling off. Your body is too warm, your skin alive with sensation, your mind clouded with an unspoken need. Restlessness hums beneath your skin, an ache both undefined and undeniable. Your sheets feel too heavy, your body too sensitive, and no matter how much you toss and turn, sleep refuses to claim you.

And then—

A warm hand grazes your thigh.

"Morning, babe."

The voice is rich, deep, and entirely too comfortable in your space.

Your breath catches. Your eyes snap open.

A man.

A beautiful, unreasonably attractive man is lounging in your bed like he belongs there—shirtless, tousled, and smirking at you like he knows exactly what your body is going through.

Golden skin bathed in morning light, dark hair deliciously messy, a lazy, knowing smirk curving his lips—like he’s been here all along, like he’s yours. His arm drapes over your waist, fingers tracing light, teasing patterns against your bare skin, and he looks perfectly at home, stretched out beside you with a mix of confidence and mischief that makes your stomach flip.

Your brain flatlines.

"Who the hell are you?"

He chuckles, deep and amused, rolling onto his side. His elbow props against the pillow, his head resting against his palm as he watches you with a slow, deliberate once-over—taking in your tousled hair, your flushed cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls in startled confusion.

"Babe," he drawls, voice thick with amusement, "don’t act like you don’t know me."

You scramble back so fast you nearly fall off the bed, pressing yourself against the headboard as if the distance will make him any less overwhelming.

"I don’t!"

He sighs, like this is the most exhausting conversation he’s ever had. He drags a hand through his already-messy hair, letting out a low hum before fixing you with a look so devastatingly smug, it should be illegal.

"I’m Brian," he says smoothly, tapping a finger against his chest before flashing you a lazy grin. "Your boyfriend for ovulation week."

Your stomach does a violent somersault.

"My what?!"

"You heard me."

Before you can process that, he moves closer—close enough that his body heat wraps around you, close enough that the scent of him—woodsy, musky, intoxicatingly male—floods your senses. You don’t even like strong colognes, but somehow, on him, it’s devastating.

He’s watching you like he knows.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low, smooth as silk. "I’m here to take care of you. Give you exactly what you need."

Your pulse stutters.

His fingers trail up your arm, featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine.

You gulp. "And what do I need?"

His lips quirk, a slow, knowing grin.

"Oh, babe," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. His voice drops to something dangerously soft, teasing. "Me."

Oh.

Oh no.

This is going to be a problem.

—

Brian is dangerous.

Not in the life-threatening sense, but in the I will absolutely ruin your sense of self-control kind of way.

He moves with the confidence of someone who knows he’s irresistible—and unfortunately, your body seems to agree.

Every glance, every teasing remark, every subtle touch he leaves on your skin feels like a slow, torturous game. A test of how long you can pretend you don’t want him.

And the worst part?

He knows.

You catch him watching you with amusement when you cross your legs tightly, shifting in your seat as if that will somehow shake the feeling of needing him. He smirks when your breath hitches at the accidental brush of his fingers against yours. And when you pretend to be unaffected, he just leans in closer—like he’s daring you to break first.

"You’re cute when you try to resist me," he muses one night, arms braced on either side of you against the kitchen counter.

You glare up at him, ignoring the way your heart slams against your ribs.

"Shut up."

He hums, his lips just barely brushing your ear.

"Make me."

Your grip on sanity is hanging by a thread.

But Brian never pushes.

That’s the thing about him—he doesn’t need to.

He waits. He lets you be the one to break first.

And when you do—when you finally fist his shirt, dragging him in for a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs—he groans against your lips, murmuring, "That’s my girl."

And God help you, you don’t even think to stop him.

—

Brian ruins you.

He kisses you like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips, like he knows exactly what you need before you do. He teases, pulls away just enough to make you chase him, smirking against your skin when he feels the shudder of impatience in your body.

"Admit it," he whispers one night, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns against your thigh.

"Admit what?" you manage, breathless.

He smirks, tipping your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You need me."

You don’t answer.

But when he moves to pull away—when his warmth starts to disappear—you whimper, fingers curling into his shirt to keep him close.

And Brian just laughs, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

"That’s what I thought, babe."

But as always, the cycle never lasts.

Because just as quickly as he appeared, Brian disappears.

One moment, he’s pressing kisses down your neck, murmuring things that make your stomach flip. The next, he’s gone—leaving behind nothing but the ghost of his touch.

You wake up alone.

The sheets are cold. The bed smells like him. Your skin remembers him.

And you hate how much you miss him.

But there’s no time to mourn—because just as you’re curling back into bed, the next one arrives.

Wonpil arrives like the first breath of calm after a storm.

You don’t even know how long you’ve been lying there—curled up on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket you’ve had on for days, staring blankly at your phone screen. Your body still feels feverish from Brian’s touch, but the fire he ignited has long since burned out, leaving behind an ache you can’t explain.

And then—

A knock.

Soft. Tentative. Like the person on the other side already knows you might not be in the mood for company but wants to check anyway.

Your chest tightens.

For a moment, you debate staying still, ignoring it, letting the weight of your exhaustion and emotions keep you glued in place. But before you can decide, the door creaks open.

"Hey, love."

The voice is as familiar as a favorite song—gentle, soothing, full of understanding.

Your head lifts sluggishly, and there he is.

Wonpil stands in the doorway with two mugs of tea in his hands. His hair is slightly damp, as if he’d walked through a drizzle to get here, his oversized sweater hanging loosely off one shoulder. There’s a softness in his expression that undoes you completely—like he sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the weight in your posture, and loves you anyway.

Like he already knows.

Something inside you cracks wide open.

You don’t say anything. You don’t explain. You just reach for him.

And Wonpil—sweet, steady, unwavering—doesn’t hesitate.

The mugs are set down with quiet care, and in the next breath, you’re in his arms.

His chest is warm, solid, smelling faintly of chamomile and fresh linen. His embrace is secure but never restricting, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other resting gently at your back. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask what’s wrong or why are you crying—he just holds you.

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break.

A shuddering breath escapes you, then another, and suddenly, the sobs come—silent at first, then wracking, shaking, endless. You bury your face into the fabric of his sweater, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered.

Wonpil only tightens his hold, cradling the back of your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, voice as steady as the ground beneath you. "I’m here. Let it out."

So you do.

You cry until your shoulders ache, until your fingers go numb from gripping onto him so tightly. You cry for reasons you can’t even name—because the world feels too loud, because everything is overwhelming, because one moment you feel like the saddest person alive, and the next, you want to fight the sun for existing. 

Because you watched a puppy video earlier and nearly sobbed at how small its paws were. Because your favorite hoodie suddenly feels like the enemy. Because you want to be held and left alone at the same time. Because your emotions are swinging so violently from one extreme to the other that you don’t even know who you are right now.

Because this happens every single month, and you’re so, so tired of it.

"It’s not fair," you whisper, voice hoarse. "We just have to go through this. Every damn month. No break, no choice. Just pain, and exhaustion, and—" Your breath shudders. "I hate it. I hate that it’s normal."

Wonpil exhales softly, his grip on you tightening, as if trying to shield you from something he can’t fight.

"I know, love." His voice is quiet, but there’s an undercurrent of something deep and raw—anger, maybe. Not at you, but for you. "It shouldn’t be this hard. And yet you go through it, again and again."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brush away the tears on your cheeks, his gaze unwavering, heavy with the weight of everything he wants to take from you but can’t.

"You shouldn’t have to be this strong," he says, and it makes you ache all over again.

—

Wonpil doesn’t try to fix you.

He just is.

He moves through your space as if he’s always belonged there—cleaning up the mess you’ve ignored for days, gathering the mugs and plates you left untouched, tidying up the small corners of your life without making a big deal about it.

He doesn’t ask if you’re hungry. He just makes something light, sets it in front of you, and brushes a gentle hand against yours until you take a bite.

When you start overthinking, retreating into yourself, he doesn’t let you drown in it.

Instead, he pulls you close—tugging you into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You curl into his warmth, and he plays with your fingers absentmindedly, tracing slow patterns against your skin.

"Whatever you’re worrying about," he says, voice light but firm, "it can wait. Just breathe with me."

But the guilt creeps in.

You should be doing more. You should be better. You should be stronger.

And then it spirals—self-doubt, exhaustion, the unbearable weight of just existing. Your body betrays you, your emotions turn violent, and suddenly, you’re drowning in a cycle no one truly understands.

It’s knowing that tomorrow might be better, but today?

Today, you feel like you’re unraveling.

Everyone thinks it’s just hormones, like it’s some minor inconvenience, like it’s not a battle you fight every single month. Like it doesn’t reach deep inside you and rip you apart, making you question everything—your worth, your sanity, your ability to just exist without feeling like you’re too much and not enough at the same time.

Like it doesn’t make you wonder, even for just a fleeting second, why am I even here?

Wonpil’s arms tighten around you as if he already knows.

As if he can feel it—the weight, the suffocating pressure, the way your mind turns against you.

"You’re enough," he interrupts, voice steady.

You shake your head, throat closing up. “I don’t feel like I am.”

"That doesn’t make it true."

He cups your face gently, tilting your chin up until your eyes meet his. His gaze is unwavering—soft but so sure.

"You are enough, exactly as you are. Even when you don’t feel like it. Even when you don’t believe it. Even when your mind tells you otherwise."

Your lips tremble. “What if I never feel like I’m enough?”

Wonpil exhales, pressing his forehead against yours, grounding you with the warmth of his presence.

"Then I’ll keep reminding you."

—

One night, he sings to you.

It happens naturally, like it was always meant to unfold this way.

You’re lying with your head in his lap, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The world outside is quiet, the soft hum of the city muffled by the safety of your apartment. Wonpil’s fingers trace slow, rhythmic patterns along your arm—grounding you, keeping you present.

And then—

A melody.

Soft at first, just a hum, the vibrations of it thrumming through his chest, traveling into you. Then, his voice follows—low and warm, like the gentle flicker of candlelight, wrapping around you with a tenderness that makes your throat close up.

Your chest tightens.

"You’re unfair," you whisper, eyes burning. You clutch the fabric of his sweater, voice small, raw. "I don’t want you to go."

Wonpil’s hand pauses.

A beat of silence.

Then, so, so softly—

"I know."

His fingers trace lazy circles on your arm as he adds, “But it’s my role, remember?”

You frown. “What role?”

He smiles. “I’m your Emotional Haven Boyfriend.”

Your brain stalls. “…You what?”

Wonpil chuckles. “It’s part of the cycle. Brian wrecks you, I patch you up. Standard procedure.”

You blink up at him, still in awe of how the universe—or whatever strange force governs your life—has somehow assigned you a boyfriend for every stage of your cycle. It’s ridiculous. It’s bizarre. It’s—honestly—kind of impressive.

And yet, here Wonpil is, embodying comfort itself, holding you like he was made for this moment.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “This can’t be real.”

Wonpil hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Just relax, love. You’re safe with me.”

But the next morning, he’s gone.

The apartment feels emptier without him, like the warmth he left behind is already fading. The blanket still smells like him. The tea he made is still sitting on the table, untouched.

And just as the weight of his absence settles—

The cramps start.

No dramatic entrance. No teasing smirks. Just the solid weight of a heating pad pressed into your hands, a bar of chocolate set beside you, and a quiet presence that feels like relief.

You blink up at him from where you’re curled on the couch, already half-dead from cramps, wrapped in your thickest blanket like a pitiful, suffering creature.

"Who—?"

"Eat," he says simply, nodding toward the chocolate.

You obey without question.

Because Dowoon isn’t the kind of guy you argue with. He doesn’t ask if you want something—he just knows what you need and makes sure you have it.

—

Dowoon is different.

Where Brian was temptation and Wonpil was comfort, Dowoon is stability.

He doesn’t hover or fuss. He doesn’t fill the air with empty reassurances or ask what’s wrong when the answer is obvious. He just observes, understands, and acts.

When you shift uncomfortably, pressing a hand to your stomach, he moves behind you, strong hands finding your lower back. His thumbs press into just the right spots, kneading slow, steady circles until the pain eases, until you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

When you zone out from exhaustion, his voice anchors you—low and steady, breaking through the haze.

"Drink," he murmurs, nudging a warm cup into your hands.

You don’t even have the energy to argue. You just sip, letting the warmth seep through you, and he watches until he’s satisfied that you won’t neglect yourself.

And when the pain is too much, when you’ve exhausted every remedy and you’re still miserable, he doesn’t tell you to push through or be strong.

Instead, he lets you collapse against him, his hoodie soft against your cheek, his arm solid around your shoulder.

"I know," he says quietly, like he really, really does.

—

Dowoon doesn’t need words to show love.

He won’t make grand speeches or theatrical gestures. But somehow, he’s always prepared.

He knows which painkillers work best for you, which foods you can tolerate when your stomach feels awful, and that one brand of tea that helps—even though you always insist it doesn’t.

He stocks your kitchen with everything you might need before you even ask.

He wakes up before you just to make sure the heating pad is warm again.

He listens, even when you don’t say anything.

And somehow, no matter how insufferable you get, he never wavers.

Not even when you’re at your absolute worst.

"Dowoon," you whimper one night, buried under three layers of blankets, your face smooshed into his hoodie. You clutch at his sleeve weakly, tugging. "It hurts."

"I know," he says simply, adjusting his arm so you can rest more comfortably against his chest.

"Fix it," you mumble, barely conscious.

He doesn’t say I can’t.

He just reaches for another heating pad, pressing it gently against your stomach, then tucks the blanket more securely around you. His hand settles on your back, steady and grounding.

"Here," he murmurs, shifting so you can burrow deeper into his warmth. "Better?"

You don’t respond—not with words. But your fingers curl into his hoodie, gripping lightly, as if anchoring yourself to him.

He notices.

He doesn’t say anything about it. He just lets you stay.

Because Dowoon is the period boyfriend—the one who doesn’t just endure your worst, but embraces it. The one who doesn’t ask you to be okay, but stays beside you until you are.

When the pain finally fades, so does he.

And then, in the quiet aftermath, the last one arrives.

Sungjin shows up when the cycle has drained you completely.

His arrival is simple—no grand entrance, no unnecessary words. Just the soft rustling of movement in your space, quiet and sure. One moment, you're sprawled out on the couch, feeling wrung out and empty after surviving the past three weeks. The next, there’s a presence in the room, steady and familiar.

When you lift your head, he’s there.

Sungjin stands in the doorway, watching you with that quiet certainty of someone who has done this before—who has seen you at your worst and loves you just the same. He doesn’t ask how you’re feeling. He doesn’t have to. His gaze already holds the answer, the understanding sinking deep into your bones before he even speaks.

Then, he extends his hand.

"Let’s get some fresh air."

It’s not a request. It’s not even a suggestion. It’s an invitation.

And something about the way he says it—calm, assured, like he already knows you need it—makes you take his hand without hesitation.

His grip is firm, warm, grounding. And as he leads you outside, guiding you away from the exhaustion and weight of the past month, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Like maybe, just maybe, you can start again.

—

The post-period phase is like standing at the edge of something new. Your body, exhausted from battle, is slowly regaining strength. Your emotions, frayed and stretched thin, are settling into something quieter.

The world feels softer, lighter.

The air is crisp, a quiet contrast to the chaos of the past few weeks. The streets are mostly empty, the world moving at a slower pace. You walk side by side, your steps falling into an easy rhythm with his.

Sungjin doesn’t hover. He doesn’t coddle. Instead, he moves at your pace, hands tucked into his pockets as if he’s content just being here with you.

After a while, he speaks. "How do you feel?"

You exhale slowly, watching your breath curl in the cool air. "Tired. Kind of empty, I guess."

Sungjin nods like he expected that answer. He waits a beat before saying, "You did good."

You pause mid-step, blinking up at him. "Huh?"

His gaze meets yours, warm and unwavering. "You survived another month. Even when you felt awful. Even when everything felt too much. You’re here."

Something tightens in your chest.

"You make it sound like I ran a marathon," you mutter, looking away.

"You kind of did," he points out. "Your body went through hell, your emotions were all over the place, and yet you still got through it. That’s not nothing."

You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. "It doesn’t feel like an achievement."

Sungjin sighs, then does something unexpected—he gently tugs your sleeve, pulling you to a stop. When you look up, his expression is serious, steady.

"Listen," he says, voice low, careful. "I know it feels like this is just... normal. Like it’s something you should be able to handle without thinking. But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And just because you’ve done it before doesn’t mean it’s any less of a victory."

His fingers brush against yours. It’s the lightest touch, but it anchors you in place.

"I’m proud of you," he says, no hesitation in his voice.

And maybe you don’t fully believe it yet, but the way he says it—steady, certain, like it’s the most natural thing in the world—makes you feel undeniably, unshakably loved.

You don’t respond, but after a moment, you lean into him slightly. He doesn’t say anything about it—just shifts enough to make space for you, letting you rest against him.

The tension in your shoulders finally unwinds. The exhaustion of the past month still lingers, but it no longer feels so suffocating.

For the first time in weeks, you feel okay.

Safe.

Balanced.

Like yourself again.

—

The week passes in this quiet, steady rhythm.

You move through your days without the weight of your body fighting against you. Your mind is clearer. You can focus. There’s no more pain, no more irritability, no more exhaustion weighing you down.

You finally feel in control again.

And Sungjin stays—the steady presence in the background, neither overwhelming nor absent.

He checks in, but never too much. He encourages you to move, but never pushes. He reminds you to take care of yourself, but never makes you feel weak for needing rest.

He resets you—slowly, gently, like grounding a system that’s been thrown off balance for weeks.

—

But just as you begin to settle into the peace, the cycle resets.

And when you wake up the next morning, Brian is there—grinning like he never left.

"Miss me, babe?"

You groan, already feeling the heat rising under your skin.

It’s starting all over again.

God really said, let’s make this bitch suffer forever.

[outofconcheol]

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 💜

[dayfics]

Hi, I miss day6 so much. I’d like to request 65 with Sungjin please. So excited to read! Thank u

Sungjin & 65. “Quiet, baby, the others will hear.”

♡ Send me a request!

1.3k words

I miss them so much too. I think it shows in this. ♡

You couldn't be more thankful that your boyfriend's friend group was so easygoing, kind and funny that you clicked instantly - since Sungjin spoke so highly of them, you really wanted to be able to make a good connection with them.

Sungjin was glad too, which resulted in you tagging along for most of their outings and lunches; you were more or less one of them now. And that's how you found yourself cuddled with Sungjin under a warm blanket, watching a Disney movie with his friends sprawled over different parts of his living room.

You were in a pretty fucking great position, you couldn't lie. You were painfully aware of how nice Sungjin's body felt against you, how his big hands were holding you close, and it was taking everything in you to not ask his friends to please get out because you can't keep it in your pants.

You were hardly concentrating on the movie, and Sungjin tracing circles on your shoulder wasn't helping at all. To satisfy yourself a little, you leaned up and kissed him on his jawline, to get his attention. He looked at you with a smile before kissing you fully, and you took the opportunity to get closer to him, adjusting your position.

He discreetly moved his hands to your hair, taking care to not make any loud or obvious movements. You were so frustrated with how little he was giving you, even though you knew you wouldn't want to be embarrassed in front of his friends either. But it felt so purposeful, like he knew how needy you were and was teasing you on purpose. You wouldn't put it past him, honestly.

By this point, everyone had fallen asleep - it was the third movie in a row and the middle of the night; they were probably tired from the day's activities. But you were wide awake.

"Sungjin," you whispered, looking at him as your lips detached from his. Your forehead was resting against his, his hand still lightly cradling your head, making you look at him.

"What, baby?" He asks, a twinkle in his eye. You know he knows.

"I want you to kiss me properly," you said softly, resting your head on his shoulder. His arms held you against him, and you were getting more worked up from the proximity. God, he was intoxicating.

The others were well aware that a dimly lit room with big sofas and bulky blankets was a ready invite for you two to fool around, so when they chose their places to watch the movie, they made sure to keep a safe distance from the both of you. The realisation that you and Sungjin were the only ones on the sofa while everyone else was asleep at least five feet away was both funny and embarrassing.

But you didn't have much time to think about it as Sungjin's fingers traced along your torso, under the loose shirt you may or may not have chosen strategically. Every touch was so careful and gentle that it made you all the more frustrated; when his other hand began grazing under your ear you almost snapped.

You put your hand on his chest and buried your face in his neck, feeling a soft laugh from him at your antics. "Baby, please," you mumbled into his neck, and the sensation made him take in a sharp breath.

"Please what?" He teased again, his hands still making you feel impossibly sensitive.

"Do something 'cause I'm about to cry," you whined, moving your head to look at him. "I'm sorry I'm saying this in front of your friends, I know it's embarrassing and stupid but I really just–"

Sungjin discreetly slipped his hands under the waistband of your pants, and kissed you before you had a chance to make a sound. His fingers lightly pressed your pussy through your underwear, and you sighed into the kiss. When he started moving them, though still not fully satisfying you, it got harder to keep quiet. You went back to cradling in his neck, squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on staying silent.

And then, it happened. As skilfully and smoothly as he had touched you elsewhere, he moved your panties to the side and pushed in two of his fingers, painstakingly slow. And you couldn't stop the moan that left your lips at finally feeling him inside you.

"Quiet, baby, the others will hear," he spoke against your ear, his deep voice so close to you. You then realised the movie was long over – everyone was still asleep, but it meant you didn't have the TV to drown you out anymore, and had to work even harder to be quiet.

Sungjin started moving his fingers, and your hand moved to grip his shoulder. His other hand now cupped your breast, lightly flicking your nipple, and all the while, he got busy with leaving soft kisses on your neck. There were so many sensations at once, you were starting to lose your mind. "Ah, S-Sungjin, fuck..." you whined when he started to pick up the pace, gripping his shirt uselessly as you squirmed in his hold.

"You're so pretty like this, baby. Why did you apologise? I'll always give my baby what she wants. This is what you want, isn't it?" he whispered huskily, and he noticed the way you shivered involuntarily; the way you bit your lip to stop yourself upon hearing his words.

You felt his thumb starting to touch your clit, and the stimulation was almost too much – he was still mercilessly toying with your nipple, the pain and pleasure of his fingers on your breast was already driving you insane. And of course, the way he was talking to you, voice low and stern, was making all of this a lot harder.

Sungjin evidently knew you well, because as soon as he started to flick your clit with his thumb, he brought up his free hand to cover your mouth. And even though you missed his hand on your breast, the idea of him keeping you quiet like this was a lot hotter.

You felt your orgasm approaching as he started to move his fingers faster, the pressure on your clit getting harsher. "Come on baby, let go," he encouraged, admiring the fucked out expression on your face. "Fuck, Sungjin, I–" you closed your eyes as the building knot in your abdomen came undone, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

Sungjin's hand left your mouth and his fingers finally slowed down as you calmed down, before he took them out completely. You looked up at him with a faint smile on your face, a slight blush on your cheeks from the situation. "That was... amazing."

"Not bad at all, angel," he smirked at you, "you were quiet. For the most part." He brought his fingers in front of you and you opened your mouth obediently, sucking them clean. Sungjin watched with glassy eyes as he thought about how your lips looked so, so perfect around his fingers, and how much better they would look around his dick. But he chose to focus on you for now, for the moment, before he could get you alone and do what he so desperately wanted to.

You kept eye contact as he took his fingers out of your mouth. The moment felt so private and erotic as a thin line of spit formed between your mouth and his fingertips. Sungjin kissed you slowly and sweetly now, and your hands ran through his hair as you felt yourself wanting more again.

He broke the kiss and smiled sheepishly. "They're all asleep anyway. I don't know why we didn't just go to my room."

You laughed, the thought didn't even occur to you. "This was more fun though."

[aleskie]

BEAUTIFUL | Nico Hischier x Reader

SUMMARY: Nico lives with your ghost. And yet, he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever had.

Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: no warnings but imagine breaking nico hischier's heart. couldn't be me. but here's what it might look like if you did. ♫ Listen: You Were Beautiful by Day6 ♫

Nico wakes up to the soft sound of his alarm and the faint rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. His hand instinctively reaches across the bed, expecting warmth, only to find cold, empty sheets. He blinks himself awake, staring at the space beside him, trying to make sense of the empty side of the bed. And then he remembers.

Oh, right. You left.

He shifts onto his back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the silence in the room. It’s too quiet. Too empty. 

You always looked so beautiful in the mornings. He loved the off-days when he could wake up next to you—the way the sunlight would hit your face just right, causing you to stir and shift in your sleep, brows furrowed and a soft pout on your lips. The way your hair would fan out over the pillow, tangled and messy, but perfect in a way that was only you. He loved how you would slowly wake up, your sleepy smile pulling at the corners of your lips when you caught him watching you.

On the days he had to get to the rink early, he’d shuffle out of bed as quietly as he could, careful not to wake you. The only light in the bedroom came from the bedside lamps, casting a soft yellow glow over your sleeping form. You were always bundled up in the duvet, curled up against a pillow, your hair a mess of tangles. He’d lean down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, knowing you wouldn’t wake up at this ungodly hour. Yet somehow, you always did.

Without fail, you’d stir, blinking sleepily up at him with half-closed eyes. “Good morning,” you’d mumble, your voice thick with sleep. And then you’d pull him in for a kiss, even though you were barely awake. “I love you,” you’d whisper against his lips, your voice hoarse and warm, still filled with the softness of sleep.

Those words were all he needed. No matter how bad the day ahead might be—traffic, a rough practice, a game loss—it never mattered. He could get through it all knowing that you loved him, that you were waiting for him at home.

But now…now there’s no sleepy smile. No groggy whispers of love. No warmth beside him. Just the cold, empty sheets and the heavy reminder that you’re gone.

He lets out a long exhale and drags himself out of bed, the cool air of the apartment making the silence even heavier. The quiet is unsettling—devoid of the usual hum of your morning playlist. The absence is tangible. There’s a weird gap in the rhythm of his day that he doesn’t know how to fill. He takes in the familiar surroundings, everything marked with shared memories.

The photos of the two of you still hang on the walls—snapshots of happier times. Trips to the beach, weddings where you danced the night away, the annual anniversary photo booth strips where you’d both pull goofy faces and kiss in between takes. There’s that one from your first year together, where you’re laughing so hard your eyes are closed, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. He tears his eyes away, feeling the ache in his chest tighten.

The plants by the window catch his attention—your little indoor garden project. You’d joked that they were your ‘practice children,’ something to take care of together. Now, they sit neglected, their leaves drooping and their soil dry. He should water them, he thinks. But he can’t bring himself to come too close to them. It was too soon.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and it’s like he can hear your laughter again, echoing from the living room. The sound of it used to fill the apartment. Especially on those nights spent curled up together on the couch, watching movies and shows, losing yourselves in conversation. You’d talk for hours about everything and nothing—random thoughts, silly dreams, what part of a car you’d eat first. 

Sometimes, you’d get up, put on a love song, and pull him to his feet, swaying together in the soft glow of the living room lights. The memory of those nights hits him hard—slow dancing around the room, bodies pressed together as you whispered to each other promises of undying love and a future together. He loved the way you’d look at him in those moments, eyes soft, filled with a love so deep it made him feel like the luckiest man alive. He still doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have you.

He wonders where it all went wrong.

His gaze drifts toward the kitchen. You aren’t there, leaning against the counter like you usually were in the mornings, elbows propped up as you sipped your coffee. He can almost see it—the way you’d steal one of his oversized shirts, claiming it as your own. It was those shirts you’d always chosen to wear on those lazy mornings when there was no rush to go anywhere, no need to leave the warmth of the bed. Just the two of you, lingering in each other’s presence.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he’d say, voice teasing but affectionate, eyes tracing the way the fabric hung loosely on you.

"It’s our shirt now," you’d smile back, giving him that playful, mischievous grin that always made his heart skip a beat.

He never thought he’d wake up one day without you there. But here he is, standing in the quiet, wondering if you’re out there somewhere, thinking of him. Wondering if there’s a chance that you’ll come back, that maybe—just maybe—you’ll slip back into the kitchen, wearing his shirt, smiling at him like you always did.

He tries to shake off the memories, attempts to focus on something else—training, the game later in the evening, anything—but no matter how hard he tries, you’re everywhere. You’re in the throw pillows on the couch and the colorful rug on the floor. The curtains that you picked out together. The scented candles on the coffee table, your favorite ones that made the whole apartment smell like lavender. He can’t escape you.

You linger in the books on the shelf, the art on the walls, even in the empty space where your mug used to sit on the kitchen counter. The scent of your morning coffee may be gone, but your presence lingers in the small details of the life you built together. There’s no way for him to forget, no way to run from the constant reminders of what used to be.

You were the most beautiful thing in his life. Every smile, every laugh, every time you call his name, he never wanted to leave. He felt like he could stay in that moment forever.  

You were the most beautiful thing in his life. Every smile, every laugh, the way you’d call his name from across the room—he never wanted to leave those moments. He always thought he could stay in them forever, live in the warmth of your love. The way you looked at him, like he was everything, made him feel like nothing could ever tear you apart. He believed that, once. 

It was easier to keep you off his mind when he wasn’t home. When he was at the rink or with the team, pushing himself in practice or lost in the flow of a game, he could almost forget. He could forget the ache in his chest, the emptiness that settled there when he came home to an apartment that no longer felt alive. He could forget about the small velvet box tucked away in the top drawer of his bedside table, the ring that had been waiting for the right moment. The moment that would never come.

But when the day drags on into the evening, and he walks through the door to silence, it all comes rushing back. The weight of your absence presses down on him, heavier than before, as he drags himself to bed. The apartment feels suffocating in its quiet, every corner a reminder of what he’s lost. He crawls into bed, feeling the cold, untouched side of the mattress where you used to sleep. It’s like staring at a ghost—the imprint of your body still there in his mind, even though the sheets haven’t been disturbed since you left.

He stares at the empty space, as if willing it to fix everything. As if, by some miracle, you’ll suddenly materialize beside him, and he’ll wake up from this nightmare. He remembers it all too clearly. The first time he saw you, the way you flashed that brilliant smile at him, the shirt you wore that night. He remembers the first time you spent the night together, the passion, the way love filled every breath between you. And he remembers the hurt in your eyes when you told him your things were packed, your words hollow as you said you were leaving.

You were beautiful, even then—beautiful and devastating—when you turned your back on him and walked out the door, taking his heart with you.

He doesn’t know if he did everything he could or if he should’ve tried harder. Maybe he should’ve fought more for you, for what you both shared. But the look on your face, the finality in your voice, said your mind was made up. But your eyes…they make him think he could have convinced you to stay. They made him think that, maybe, if he had just said the right words, done the right thing, you would’ve still been here.

He nestles into his side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around him. He tries to will himself to sleep, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he’ll see you in his dreams. See your smile, hear your laugh. Feel your touch again. Because in his dreams, you forgive each other. In his dreams, you fight for this, for the love that once felt unbreakable. In his dreams…you stay.

"Beautiful," he whispers into the quiet, the word hanging in the air, like a plea.

And as sleep finally takes him, he prays he’ll find you there. Even if just for a little while.

[binniebakery]

About Now

♡ Bf!Kai x Gn!Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff! ♡

♡ Summary: No matter how far away you two are, you’ll always feel like home to him. <3 ♡ Warnings: None aside from nicknames/long distance! ♡ A/N: This is based off of day6’s song “about now” hehe I love that song to bits and the lyrics are sooo cute😭😭so please listen while reading for the full experience! Enjoy <3

Kai ran his fingers through his hair as he checked his phone again for the millionth time that morning. He was so tired but he would do anything to hear your voice, even if it meant sacrificing his sleep and waking up earlier than he really needed to. It was late where you were on your side of the world but he knew you’d always reply to his texts when you could. He reluctantly brushed his teeth, his soft hair a mess and still in his pajamas. He had to at least do something productive while he waited for you to get off work. By now, you must have erased your make-up

By now, you must have finished preparing

My old shirt that is going to be your pajama

I can imagine you wearing it

Like always, you must be beautiful Kai found himself daydreaming about you once again. Whenever he had time he always found himself thinking of you. What outfit did you wear today? Did you eat? How was work? His thoughts were always y/n must be eating dinner right now, or y/n must be washing the dishes. His favorite thought was just picturing you fresh out of the shower, wearing just his shirt.<3 Kai liked to imagine himself walking behind you and scooping you in for a tight hug. It made his heart race just thinking about it. Ring.. Ring Ring… Ring.. Suddenly he was wide awake now, hearing that familiar ringtone he set just for you. He lets it ring for just a few seconds (he can’t make it obvious he was desperate to hear your voice!) before answering with his usual cheery tone. “Hyuka!~ I just finished doing my skincare routine! Did I wake you up?” Your voice was sweeter than sugar, his ears were blessed. The early morning birds began to chirp but nothing was more calming than hearing you say his name from across the world. “No of course not sweetie, I just decided to get up early today.” His smile grew wider hearing your soft giggles over the line. God, he missed you. The night snack you ordered without me

How does it taste?

Because I'm not there

Did you perhaps dream of naughty things?

I keep worrying about your days without me

Are you also feeling blank like me? As if a screw is loose The morning went on just like that. You talking about your day ending and Kai just starting his. Being on tour was tough for the both of you but you always managed to show your support no matter how far you both were. “What do you mean you ordered egg tarts without me?!” Your boyfriend pouted. “I’m sorry! I promise when you get back we can eat as many as you want together my prince.” Your laugh and voice were refreshing and addicting. How could he ever be mad at you? Just wait a few days

Until we meet again

I prayed for the time to be by our side

Today the clock is ticking slowly

Or is it my heart that is feeling rushed?

I want to see your beautiful face “Y’know, the tour is almost over, I’ll be home soon my love,” Kai mumbled as he rummaged through his luggage for the right outfit to head to his rehearsal. “Mhm, I’m always counting the seconds till I get to see you again..” You whispered back, the intimate atmosphere was so intense both of you could feel it on each side of the phone line. Kai felt himself warm up at the thought of you waiting for him at the airport, running into his warm arms and you two could go home together.  “Let’s go to an arcade when I get back, I want to play games with you.” Kai chirped as he pulled his shirt over his head. Your immediate cheery response was all he needed to motivate him to get through his day. “Alright, I have to go now. Promise you’ll be good for me?” Kai teases as he closes his bag, all things accounted for. “Just for you. I’ll keep my naughty thoughts to myself until you get home~” You teased back and the both of you let out a wholehearted laugh. Everything felt right in the world with you having each other’s backs.  “Have a good sleep. Love you, remember I’m cheering for you y/n.. and don’t forget to dream of me~” Your boyfriend was such a tease. And you loved every single bit of it. Your ray of sunshine. The night snack you ordered without me

How does it taste?

Because I'm not there

Did you perhaps dream of naughty things?

I keep worrying about your days without me

Are you also feeling blank like me?

As if a screw is loose

Time felt like it was going slower than ever when he was doing his schedules or on tour, but at the end of the day, all he needed was his partner waiting for him with arms open wide. Your small apartment always smelled of you. It had all your shared stuffed animals, your soft bed just waiting for him to lay on with you, your kitchen where you both baked together, the TV and couch where you both played games together, and most importantly, your apartment had you.

[felixsramen]

Could you do some sort of poly!skz x reader + ateez like theyre all hanging out in some way. I dont rly have a scenario I just like constantly imagine them all hanging out with the reader and it just being a fun time. It could even be like ateez dating each other and Skz dating each other + reader and they’re all comparing love lives at a sleepover. Like anything rly that has all 17 or sumn of them haha

You're brain is beautiful for coming up with this.

"It's not that bad dealing with 8 guys is it?" Seonghwa asks you. Currently you were laying on the couch legs sprawled across Jisungs and Hyunjins laps.

"Why do you ask her that? You should be asking that to us about yn and the boys." Hyunjin says having the other boys laughing.

"Of course it isn't. I mean there's always someone to do chores and someone to hangout with." You tell him.

"I wish they'd help with chores." Seonghwa sighs and you and the boys laugh at his words.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes smiling. "We'd help if you didn't complain about when we would help you." Hongjoong says and Seonghwa shakes his head.

"That's the same way for yn and Minho." Chan says laughing.

You swat playfully at your boyfriend who moves away from your hand.

"Only because you guys half ass it when you do it." Minho says shrugging.

"I'm not allowed to help clean or cook anymore because Seonghwa says the same thing." Wooyoung says and Seonghwa pinches him.

"Minho has also banned me and Hyunjin from the kitchen." Jisung says laughing.

Minho playfully hits his leg. "Yeah because you both almost burned down my kitchen making cupcakes."

"Seonghwa almost kicked San and Wooyoungs ass when they also almost burnt down the kitchen." Yunho says laughing.

San and Wooyoung shrug. "Sometimes I wish it was for making food." San says smiling.

"What did you guys do?" You ask and San and Wooyoung look at each other bursting out laughing.

"Lit a firework in the kitchen. Now we have a fireworks ban because of them." Yunho says causing you all to laugh.

"In our defense we told Yeosang." San says throwing Yeosang under the bus.

Yeosang shakes his head. "You told me while I was half asleep. I would've told you how bad that was if I was fully awake."

"I once almost convinced Hyunjin and Jisung that if you put a penny in the microwave it would shrink. They believed me and the microwave caught on fire." I.N. says and the boys and you lose it at the memory.

"I once convinced Mingi that clowns were following him. I even paid someone to dress up in a clown costume." Wooyoung says laughing.

Mingi sat up in his spot. "I fucking knew you had something to do with that." Mingi says pointing at him.

"Best 50$ I ever spent." Wooyoung says and you can't help but laugh harder with the rest of the boys.

"I convinced Hyunjin that we were sending him to Africa once." Seungmin says sipping his drink.

"It was you who had the plane tickets in my name to Africa? I should've fucking knew it." Hyunjin says.

Seungmin just shrugs. "You touched my Day6 albums."

"It was funny watching Hyunjin panic for a good hour before realizing Seungmin was behind it." Changbin says earning a playful hit from Hyunjin.

"I really thought they were getting rid of me." Hyunjin says thinking on it. You and the boys laugh.

"If you think that's bad Seonghwa once told Wooyoung and San if they didn't start picking up their clothes he'd get someone to kidnap them." Jongho says laughing.

"I've heard Minho tell Jisung and Hyunjin the same thing." Felix says losing it.

Minho reaches over high fiving Seonghwa as they laugh. "Hey it kept their rooms clean for almost 2 months." Minho says shrugging with a smile on his face.

"He loves us too much to do that." Wooyoung says and Seonghwa just shrugs getting up.

"Right?" Wooyoung says as Seonghwa walks off to the kitchen with a smile on his face.

Wooyoung gets up chasing after him. "Hwa right?" You hear him say and you and the rest of the boys can't help but laugh.