#straykids x y/n

[sunboki]

🛒 SKZ TEXTS — “what are we?”

including. 𐙚ot8

notes. happy almost-december :) please take this!

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

random dad!skz fluff with their babies🧸💌

did somebody say 💖🧁self indulgent content🧁💖 ? anyhowwwww i NEED lee minho and han jisung on the return of Superman thanks that's all bye

✨dad!skz masterlist

✨main masterlist

✨ taglist @milf-ivy @minluvly. @nervousbasementtimemachine @m1lfl0v3r4l1fe @atiana1996 @dreamerwasfound @staydoida1 @chlodavids @ivyreadsstuff @sapphirewaves @hannahhhhs-things @skzwife

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[thatblvckboyy]

BANGCHAN X MREADER AUDIO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE 🥰‼️🥺

Bangchan x male Listener audio

Bangchan would do anything for his boyfriend to be happy and would even spoil you a lot and leave you with his credit card but the one thing chan would never do is give you any power whatsoever In bed, you would end up milking him until his a moaning mess and a complete gooner

[hyunesent]

. ۫𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪ SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

"The idea of exploring the beauty and complexity of the human body and physical connections wasn't uninteresting, and you couldn't think of a better person to do it with other than the one sitting next to you."

art student!hyunjin x art student!reader (afab)

chapter cw: pining, drinking, masturbation (m + f), depictions of oral sex (f receiving) and p in v sex, pre-cum eating. I honestly wanted to do a lot more in this chapter but I also want the slow burn ;p

Chapter 1: Beneath the surface

How could you not be entranced by him? Where the scent of paint thinner mingled with the whisper of the sound of paintbrushes on canvases, you found yourself drawn to the figure at the far easel; conveniently placed at a comfortable pining distance.

An unmistakable art style so different from your own paired with his sculpted features. His presence was an intricate masterpiece of quiet confidence and unspoken dreams. Each brushstroke he made, imbued with a natural fluidity, seemed to capture the essence of something ineffable, something you yearned to unravel.

Hyunjin was a study of classical beauty. Dark, expressive eyes, often framed by a fringe of soft, slightly tousled hair, and his lips, full and slightly pouted as he fully engrossed himself in his work. But of course, your admiration didn't halt at appreciation for his artistry. You couldn't help but cross your legs tighter when you caught a glimpse of his tongue resting between his lips in concentration, and your thoughts could not help but wonder how smooth it would feel against–

“I have already assigned you all partners for this conceptual art task you have been given, these have been chosen strategically so I want you to all challenge yourselves and each other to push your creative boundaries for this piece. Each pair will be given an abstract concept to interpret and express in three different mediums. The themes will be emailed to you separately this evening but for now, I will send you all the list of pairs so ensure you have means to contact them.”

You paid little mind to your professor's description of the task assigned to you but perked up while packing your stuff away at the last sentence. As you carefully slung your bag over your shoulder you felt the vibration in your pocket, clicking on the notification your eyes pulsed open with a mix of emotions when you saw your name next to Hyunjin’s.

Sure you were acquainted with him in class and had worked with him in group settings before but that was all at a comfortable distance where there was no need for the two of you to understand each other on a deeper level. Your excitement and anticipation transitioned into panic as a tall shadow covered you.

You look up and are greeted with a short yet soft smile from the man before you and are instantly weak in the knees. There was a moment where you were allowed to take in the way he looked so effortlessly perfect with his hair pulled out of his face with a hair tie and you had to stop yourself from frowning as he swiftly released it allowing his to fall to his collarbones as he raked his hands through it. He spoke so comfortably as the two of you walked side by side out of the building.

“Y/n I was wondering if you’re okay to start the project today we can meet after my shift? I’m honestly excited to do this assignment,” He looks at you and lets out a chuckled sigh “It seems so much more interesting than the last.”

You almost roll your eyes at the memory of the material studies essay that was due and it provokes Hyunjin's contagious laugh. The two of you light-heartedly complain as you reminisce about the sleepless nights spent on such an unfulfilling part of the course.

After a few minutes, you make it clear that you're more than happy to start the project tonight and he sweetly expresses gratitude before hastily saying goodbye to ensure he won't be late for work. You make your way to your dorm blissfully and in contrast to your usual bed rotting and doom-scrolling combo you get in the shower. Hours later your phone lights up several times.

Hyunjin: Just got back to my dorm, gonna shower and order food for us Hyunjin: be here in an hour? Hyunjin: and don't open the email with our theme!!! Hyunjin: let's do it together so we can brainstorm Hyunjin: see you soon :)

As you scroll down, the last notification catches your eye—an email from your professor. Smiling fondly at Hyunjin’s messages, you swipe the notification away. Biting your lip to silence a laugh, you can't help but notice how playful his demeanour is through text, a sharp contrast to the mysterious allure he maintains in person. Setting your phone aside, you put a little extra effort into your appearance, more than you usually would for a simple assignment, before making your way to his dorm.

When you arrived at your assignment partner's dorm, your heart pounded in sync with your tentative knock on the door. When Hyunjin opened it, his warm smile and lingering gaze made your pulse race.

Stepping inside, you were pleasantly surprised by the room's unexpected sensuality. Soft lighting bathed the space in a golden glow, while the scent of sandalwood and paint lingered in the air. Abstract paintings in Hyunjins distinctive style adorned the walls, each one more evocative than the last. You always knew Hyunjin enjoyed more provocative themes in class but this was different, more intimate.

Your eyes met again, and his gentle, lingering stares hinted at something unreadable, making you feel both exhilarated and at ease. As you settled in to get ready to work on your project, Hyunjin took your jacket from you and hung it next to his before coming back to where you were seated with two glasses of wine. You take it from him with a warm smile and a whispered thank you then take a sip before placing it down next to his.

“What do you think the theme is going to be?” he asked, his attentive eyes fixated on yours. “Not a clue,” you replied after a moment's thought. “I think it’s cool we’re all doing different themes, though. It'll be interesting to see everyone’s interpretations.”

He nodded in agreement before taking out his phone and unlocking it, positioning himself so you could see the screen. He spared you a glance, a silent plea that the theme assigned would be intriguing. As he opened the email and scrolled down, you read together, and the disparity between your synced reactions was almost comical. The Human Form and Intimacy. As you read those words, a blush crept up your cheeks, almost as if you had been found guilty of something. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed with something exhilarating.

“Oh my God, that’s so good!” he exclaimed, looking over at you with an uncontainable smile. You instinctively sat up straighter. “There’s so much we can do with this. I’m so excited.” You couldn’t help but feel a warmth seeing the genuine joy exuding from Hyunjin. His passion for his craft was truly admirable. In comparison, you were much more of a stay-inside-the-lines kind of person, not as outgoing or experimental with your art or your personal life. However, despite your initial hesitation, the idea of exploring the beauty and complexity of the human body and physical connections wasn't uninteresting. And you couldn't think of a better person to do it with than the one sitting next to you.

The room was quiet save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint scratching of pencils on paper. Hyunjin suggested the two of you brainstorm ideas and then feedback to each other. He sat comfortably at his desk, his posture relaxed and confident, while you fidgeted with your supplies. The theme of the assignment, "The Human Form and Intimacy," loomed large in your mind, casting a shadow of nervousness over your creativity. Hyunjin’s ease with the subject was palpable. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he began sketching and writing, effortlessly capturing the fluid grace of the human body in simplified forms and creating lists of ideas on what mediums could be used. You, on the other hand, found your hands trembling slightly as you tried to put pencil to paper. The suggestive nature of the theme felt almost too intimate and too revealing, and you struggled to express yourself without feeling exposed.

Sensing your discomfort, Hyunjin looked up from his work, his gaze softening. "You seem a bit nervous," he said gently, his voice a soothing murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "Are you okay with this theme?" You hesitated, biting your lip before nodding slowly. "I’ve never really done anything like this before. It feels…vulgar, almost. I’m not sure how to be open and expressive with something so personal."

Hyunjin listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze a comforting anchor. "I understand," he said softly. He did, sex and intimacy weren't something that he took lightly either and he understood why holding it in such high regard would cause a sense of conflict for a task like this. "It can be intimidating to delve into such intimate themes, but there’s a lot of beauty in it too. The human form, the connections we share, they’re all part of our most profound experiences."

He paused, then continued, his voice low and sincere, laced with a quiet intensity. "There’s something incredibly powerful about capturing those moments of vulnerability. It’s not just about intercourse; it’s about the raw, unfiltered connection between people. That’s what I find beautiful." With that, he reached for a sketchbook tucked away on his shelf, one he rarely showed to anyone. He silently handed it to you, so you opened it and saw page after page filled with sensual sketches, each one a masterful depiction of human bodies intertwined in moments of passion or singular bodies enjoying their own pleasure and tenderness. The drawings were explicit, yes, but there was a grace and elegance to them that transcended the vulgarity you had feared. Hyunjin’s eyes met yours as he explained, "These sketches are my way of exploring and celebrating intimacy. They’re meant to capture the beauty of those private, sacred moments."

You were taken aback, but also deeply intrigued. His perspective was so different from your own, and yet, you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Growing up, you were always taught to view sex as something simple and utilitarian, a straightforward act with a singular purpose. Your upbringing, steeped in traditional values, framed intimacy as a means to an end, devoid of nuance or emotion. However, as you grew older and moved out on your own, the world began to unfold in all its complexity. You found yourself exploring new ideas and experiences, each one peeling back layers of understanding. You discovered that sex could be a profound expression of love, a dance of trust, or a celebration of physical pleasure. It was a spectrum of emotions and connections, each encounter adding depth to your perception. Still, in spite of your own experiences, you couldn't deny how affected you were seeing the array of drawings in front of you.

Your cheeks and ears felt flushed as your eyes scanned over sketches of women and men indulging in self-pleasure, each figure rendered with exquisite detail and sensitivity. The scratches of his pencil conveyed a palpable sense of ecstasy, from the arch of a woman's back to the intense focus in a man's gaze as he explored his own pleasure. The sheets rustled softly as you turned them, your fingers trembling slightly, each new image a testament to Hyunjin's ability to capture the beauty and intensity of human desire. You could feel his intense gaze on you but the embarrassment you felt from it did not overtake your curiosity to keep turning the page. There was an undeniable attraction, an arousal even, in the way he spoke about and depicted sex and intimacy through his art. His passion was contagious, stirring something within you. Your heart pounded and a wetness collected in your underwear, unable to quell the surge of arousal these intimate. It was as if you could feel the passion emanating from the pages, each drawing tightening the feeling in your core and causing your pathetic attempt at clenching around nothing.

That did not go unnoticed. Too focused on calming yourself down you did not see the way Hyunjin’s eyes darkened. "I’ve always believed that art should make you feel something," he said, his voice a hushed whisper that seemed to wrap around you. "It should stir your soul, make your heart race. That’s what these drawings do for me. They’re not just about the physical act, but about the emotions behind it, the intimacy and trust."

You finally found the courage to look up at him and he almost gasped seeing your glossed over eyes. You felt a warmth spreading through you, a mix of admiration and a burgeoning desire to explore this new realm of expression. "I’ve always been afraid to push boundaries, to really let go," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. Hyunjin’s hand reached out, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture that was both reassuring and electrifying. "Art is about breaking those boundaries," he said softly. "It’s about being brave enough to express your true self, to explore the depths of your emotions."

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his, feeling a profound connection forming between you. "I want to try," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. His smile was warm and encouraging. "We can explore this together," he promised. His gaze loitered on you taking you in and feeling your genuinity. Hyunjin watched you with a mix of intense curiosity and restrained desire, the intimacy of the recent conversation hanging palpably between you. Your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and sensitivity made his pulse quicken.

He had been able to sense the subtle shift in your energy and posture, a silent admission of arousal that mirrored the growing tent in his pants. He felt a powerful urge to bridge the gap between your feelings, to show you the depths of his passion in a more tangible way. Yet, as the moment stretched on, he wrestled with his own impulses, determined to remain respectful and honour the delicate trust you had just begun to build. With a deep breath, he chose to focus on your shared journey of exploration and expression, channelling his desire into a mutual understanding rather than a physical advance.

As you continued to talk, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating possibility of what you could create together. The nervousness began to retreat, replaced by a growing curiosity and a need to understand Hyunjin’s perspective. You found a new sense of freedom, a permission to explore your creativity without fear. Hyunjin had gone to refill your glasses and the two of you had decided that the three mediums you would be using for this project were oil painting (hyunjin’s speciality), sculpting and photography. The alcohol prevented your mind from wandering too much about what that would entail so instead you spent the rest of the evening basking in each other's company trying to push aside any lingering thoughts.

The street lamps cast a warm glow on the quiet campus as Hyunjin and you strolled side by side. Your footsteps echoed softly against the brick buildings, a rhythmic soundtrack to your shared silence. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of summer nights and possibility. Hyunjin glanced at the girl beside him, admiring how the golden light played across your features. Your brow furrowed slightly as you clutched your sketchbook to your chest, no doubt still pondering your art assignment. He longed to smooth away that tiny crease with his thumb, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. "Thank you for walking me back," you murmured, breaking the silence. Your voice was low, almost reverent in the stillness of the night. Hyunjin's lips curved into a gentle smile, his own voice a rich timbre that seemed to resonate in the space between them. "I couldn't let you walk alone at this hour."

As you approached your dorm building, your pace slowed unconsciously, neither quite ready for the evening to end. Hyunjin's hand brushed against yours, a whisper of contact that sent electricity coursing through both your bodies. He heard your sharp intake of breath and felt his heart rate quicken in response. You came to a stop before the entrance, turning to face each other. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. Hyunjin's gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark and luminous in the lamplight. "I had a lovely time tonight," you said softly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sketchbook. Hyunjin nodded, swallowing hard. "So did I. Your ideas for the project were inspiring."

You couldn't help but smile at that knowing how much of an inspiration he was to you. His hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered, tracing the delicate outline of your jaw. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief, exquisite moment.

When you opened them again, Hyunjin saw a flash of something primal in their depths – a hunger that mirrored his own. His hand lingered over yours, not willing to break the connection. At that moment, the air between them seemed charged with possibility. Hyunjin leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. You tilted your face up, your lips parting slightly in anticipation. But all too soon, realisation hit and you stepped back, breaking the spell, leaving you both breathless and aching. With a final, gentle squeeze of your hand, Hyunjin stepped back. You look at him wordless and it seems he caught on as he spoke for you.

"Goodnight," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Goodnight, Hyunjin," you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you turned and entered your dorm. As the door closed behind you, Hyunjin let out a shaky breath. He stood there for a moment, his mind replaying the evening, before slowly making his way back to his dorm. The walk back was a blur, Hyunjin's mind consumed by replaying every moment of your interaction. The soft brush of your arm against his as they walked, the way your eyes had widened when he'd touched your face, the barely audible catch in your breath. As soon as his door clicked shut behind him, Hyunjin leaned against it, his head falling back with a soft thud. The scent of your perfume clung to his clothes, a constant reminder of your closeness. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake off the intense arousal that had been building all evening.

Once inside your room, you leaned against the door, your heart pounding. The memory of Hyunjin's touch lingered on your skin, igniting a fire within you. Closing your eyes you imagined what might have happened if you’d been brave enough to kiss him. Hyunjin lay in his dorm bed, the dim light of the night sky seeping through his window, casting shadows that danced and flickered across his body. The memory of the evening lingered a heavy warmth that seemed to permeate everything. You had both held back, yearning to give in to your desires, but unable to find the courage to cross that final line. Now, as he lay there with his eyes closed, the pressure built within him. His hand drifted down his chest, fingers ghosting over the thin fabric of his shirt. He imagined your touch instead of his own, delicate yet curious, exploring the planes of his body. Hyunjin felt the throbbing need that had been building up inside him. He closed his eyes and thought of you, your body warm and inviting, gripping his hardness, guiding him inside you

In a room not too far from his, you laid in your bed, heart pounding in sync with his own. The memories of your evening together were just as fresh in your mind, and as you imagined his touch, your own arousal began to build once more, your body responding to his thoughts as if you were in the same room, touching each other. You ran your hand down your body, skin tingling from the friction of your fingers against you. Your thoughts were filled with the image of him, his bare chest rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. You visualized your body gliding over his, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss, your wet tongues exploring each other's mouths. When you reached between your legs, you felt a surge of desire for him, growing stronger with every stroke against your pussy. You imagined him between your legs, his face buried in your folds as he eagerly and desperately pleasured you. You could envision the intense focus in his eyes, his lips glistening with your arousal allowing him to taste his min rain with all the things he wanted to do to you; like you were his canvas waiting to be covered. Your breathing became more ragged, moans escaping your lips, hips arching off the bed as your hand worked faster and faster, seeking the release you craved.

Hyunjin's thoughts grew more intense, imagining you wet and aroused, your body yearning for his touch just as much as he longed for yours. His hand moved in a steady rhythm, his grip becoming more firm with each stroke. The sight of his own arousal, glistening in the dim light, was a tantalizing sight. The scent of sweat and arousal filled the air, musky and heady. His scent mixed with yours in his mind, creating an aroma that only fueled his desire. His lips were parted as he panted, his mouth dry and craving a taste. He imagined your lips on his, your dripping cunt. As his hand moved over his swollen tip, he could feel the stickiness of his desire. He brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them in anticipation. He whined and bucked his hips up to the taste of his own pre-cum lingering on his tongue, salty and sweet. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what it would taste like mixed with yours.

He envisioned you climaxing beneath him, your body writhing in pleasure as he brought you to a shuddering, soul-shaking orgasm. The thought of your cries of ecstasy, the feel of your hot, wet core clenching around him, sent him over the edge. You imagined him cumming, his throbbing erection releasing its load deep within you, filling you, completing the connection you both craved. Your fingers slick with your arousal, were thrust inside yourself, your body responding to the fantasy as if it were your own touch that you needed. A hand came up to silence your loud whimpers. Your body convulsed, your orgasm taking over. Your body shook with the intensity of the climax. It was as if you could feel him inside you, your bodies moving in tandem, desires finally merging into a single, unified experience.

Hyunjin's orgasm was explosive, the rush of pleasure so intense that it felt as if every nerve ending in his body was alight. His climax crashed over him in waves parallel to the ropes of cum that landed on his stomach. He imagined you, your face scrunched in pleasure, your body locked in the throes of your release At that moment, miles apart, their highs intertwined as if they were physically touching each other. The heavy warmth of the emotions seeped into the air once more, leaving behind a memory that would never be forgotten. Hyunjin lay in his dorm bed, still trembling from the intensity of his release. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. They might not have crossed the line that night, but the connection they had built was undeniable, and the desire that burned between them was only just beginning.

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This is a work of fiction not a portrayal of anyone in real life. THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST. I'm excited to continue this series, I have a few ideas for the smut and how it will link to the mediums chosen. I think the sculpting will be my favourite to write. I also really want to develop Hyunjin's character a lot in this so stay tuned for that Likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading .ᐟ

[call-of-daydreams]

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

𝘜𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 - 𝘠/𝘯: "𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦." 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯: "…𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸."

𝓒𝔀: 𝓑𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝓯𝓮𝓶! 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻, 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1817

𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮: 7 𝓶𝓲𝓷 6 𝓼𝓮𝓬

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Bangchan walked through the park alongside Y/n, their shoulders brushing as they strolled. The sun was setting, and the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink.

Bangchan turned to look at Y/n, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You know, you look beautiful in this light," he said, his voice low and smooth.

Y/n blushed, ducking her head. "Thanks," she said, feeling a flicker of something unfamiliar in her chest.

As they continued to walk, Bangchan couldn't help but notice how Y/n's hair shone in the setting sun and how her laughter seemed to fill the air with a melody. He had always found her attractive, and over the years, his feelings for her had grown into something more than friendship.

Y/n was feeling equally conflicted. She had always known Bangchan as a close friend, someone she could trust and rely on. But lately, his words and actions towards her had been different - more romantic, almost. She found herself blushing more frequently at his compliments and seeking his company more often.

As they reached a bench, Bangchan gestured for Y/n to sit down. He sat down next to her, their legs touching slightly.

"I have to tell you something," he said, his voice suddenly serious.

Y/n looked at him, surprised. "What is it?" she asked, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.

Bangchan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I...I don't know how to say this, but...I've been feeling something for you," he said, his eyes fixed on her face.

“This sounds like you’re flirting with me.” Y/n says as she looks over to Bangchan. “...I’ve been trying to do that for three years now.” Bangchan says back.

Y/n blinked, her mind scrambling to process his words. "You...you've been flirting with me for three years?" she repeated, disbelief mixing with budding hope.

Bangchan nodded, a sheepish smile on his face. "Yeah. I've been trying to drop hints and show you how I feel, but I guess I'm not very good at it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at his confession. "Wow, I had no idea. No one's ever tried to flirt with me so subtly before," she said, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her best friend had been secretly flirting with her for years.

Bangchan chuckled, relieved that she was taking it well. "Yeah, I didn't want to scare you or make things weird," he explained. "But I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I needed to tell you how I feel."

Y/n was silent for a moment as she processed everything. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. On one hand, she wanted to be happy that someone as wonderful as Bangchan had been silently pining after her for years. On the other hand, she felt a nagging worry that things might change between them now that their feelings were out in the open.

Bangchan seemed to sense her hesitation. "Y/n, you don't have to say anything right now," he said, reaching out to take her hand. "I just needed to get it off my chest. And if you don't feel the same, that's okay. I'm happy to just be your friend."

Y/n's heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. The touch of his hand on hers sent a flutter of emotions through her body. She looked at him, seeing the mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes.

"It's not that I don't feel something," Y/n spoke carefully, her words measured. "It's just...I never thought you saw me that way. You're one of my closest friends, and I don't want to ruin what we have."

Bangchan nodded, understanding her concerns. "I know, I feel the same way," he said, his thumb stroking her skin. "But I also know that I couldn't go on pretending to just be your friend when I feel so much more. I had to take the risk."

Y/n looked down at their hands, intertwined on the bench. She took a moment to really consider her feelings. Her heart was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, but one thing was clear: she cared deeply for Bangchan. She cared for him more than just a friend.

Y/n speaks up, "I... I like you too." Y/n confesses.

Bangchan's eyes widened at her words, a mix of surprise and joy on his face. He had hoped for this, but hearing her say it sent a wave of happiness coursing through him.

"Really?" he asked, his voice soft. "You're not just saying that because I just confessed?"

Y/n shook her head, a smile growing on her lips. "No, I'm not," she said, her voice steady. "I've been feeling something for you for a while now, but I was just as confused and scared as you to say anything."

Bangchan's heart felt like it was soaring. He couldn't believe that this was happening, that his secret feelings were reciprocated. He squeezed her hand slightly, his thumb tracing patterns on her skin. "I'm glad you feel the same. For a while, I was worried I was going crazy, feeling these things for my best friend," he admitted with a chuckle.

Y/n laughed softly, "I know what you mean. I felt so silly getting all flustered whenever you were around. And I could never figure out if you were actually flirting with me or just being friendly."

Bangchan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, most of those were definitely intentional attempts at flirting," he said, chuckling. "I was testing the waters, trying to see if you'd pick up on it."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "You sneaky devil," she teased. "You had me all puzzled, trying to figure out your strange behavior."

Bangchan chuckled again, his shoulders shaking. "Well, it looks like my cunning plan worked," he said, his tone lighthearted. "After three years of subtle flirting, I finally got you to admit you like me back."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "You're insufferable, you know that?" she said, though her words were without malice. She found his self-satisfaction endearing. "But yeah, your plan worked. Congrats, Chan."

Bangchan wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I should get some credit for my persistence," he said, a playful smirk on his lips. "Three years of flirting is a lot time invested, you know."

"What would you like then? Me being your girlfriend?" Y/n jokes to Chan.

Bangchan pretended to think for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm...I suppose that would be a suitable reward for my years of effort," he said dramatically, leaning back against the bench. "You being my girlfriend - yes, I think that will do nicely."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at his overacted response. But the thought of being his girlfriend made her heart flutter. "Well, in that case, I guess I have no choice but to officially agree to be your girlfriend," she said, jokingly feigning reluctance.

Bangchan smiled widely, unable to contain his joy. "I'm glad you've decided to give in to my charms," he teased, pulling her closer to him on the bench.

As the night continued, the two of them talked and laughed like old times, but the undercurrent of their new romantic feelings added a thrilling element to their banter. When the sky grew dark, Bangchan walked Y/n home, holding her hand the entire way.

As they reached her doorstep, they paused, both reluctant for the night to end.

"This was a great night," Bangchan said, still holding her hand.

"It really was," Y/n agreed, leaning against her door. She looked at him, feeling a mix of emotions - excitement, nervousness, and a deep affection. "So, officially I'm your girlfriend now, right?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Bangchan grinned, stepping closer to her. "Officially my girlfriend," he affirmed, his voice softer now. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at his tender gesture. She felt a wave of warmth spread through her. "Well, I guess I should get inside," she said reluctantly.

Bangchan nodded, equally reluctant to end the night. "Yeah, I should head back too," he said, but he didn't move away. He was standing mere inches from her, the closeness making her breath hitch.

They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell. Y/n's eyes kept drifting to his lips, wondering what they'd feel like against hers. Bangchan's gaze was fixed on her face, his eyes dark with an unmistakeable desire.

Finally, Bangchan spoke, his voice low and hoarse. "Can I..." he began, then he cleared his throat and started again, "Can I kiss you goodnight?"

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest at his words. She had been waiting for him to ask, her own longing mirrored in his eyes. "Yes," she breathed, her voice almost a whisper.

Bangchan didn't need any more encouragement. He stepped closer, closing the small gap between them. One hand came up to cup her face, his other arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her against him. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he leaned down, his lips gently pressing against hers.

The kiss was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through Y/n's body. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into him, one hand coming up to clutch his shirt. The feeling of being against him, his strong arms holding her close, was intoxicating. The kiss deepened, both of them losing themselves in the sensation.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, Bangchan rested his forehead against hers. "God, I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his fingers tracing feather-light patterns along her cheek.

Y/n nodded, her eyes still closed as she tried to catch her breath. "Me too," she agreed. "I can't believe it took us this long." They stood there, still in each other's arms, trying to calm their racing hearts.

Finally, Bangchan reluctantly withdrew, his hands lingering on her waist. "I should really go," he said, though his tone was anything but decisive.

Y/n nodded, equally reluctant to let him go. "Yeah, it's getting late," she agreed.

They exchanged a lingering look, silently saying goodbye for the night. Finally, Bangchan took a step back, breaking the connection. "Goodnight, y/n," he said, his voice carrying a hint of regret.

“Goodnight, lover boy” Y/n jokes as she turned to head inside. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, and text me when you get home, please.”

[ghxstwrites]

October Nights

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Summary: You’d seen the “paint and sip” trend on tik tok, and you decided to use it as an excuse to have a cozy date with your boyfriend

WC: 819 (Short and Sweet)

AU: Established Relationship

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): Mentions of Alcohol/Consumption, self doubt, angst if you squint I guess?

A/N: This felt a little rushed, so I hope you all like it! Thank you @bunnliix for proof reading fixing all my mistakes

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Tag List: @a---shura @kpop---scenarios @potatomountain @bethelighthalazia (send me a ask if you wanna be added!)

Kinktober & Flufftober Masterlist

It was no secret your boyfriend was an artist. 

There were so many days you’d come home from work to find paint brushes from his latest masterpiece soaking in the kitchen sink making sure they didn’t dry on the brushes, or music coming from the spare bedroom as he was locked in on his next painting. 

The house was full of paintings he’d given you over the course of your relationship, or just paintings he’d created.

So when you’d been scrolling through Tik Tok one afternoon and came across something called a ‘Paint and Sip’ you needed to tell him immediately. 

He’d been out at the studio all day and you took it as an opportunity to sneak out to your local craft store and pick up the supplies.  

Wine? Check.

Canvases? Check.

Paints and Brushes? Check.

All that was left was to set it up and order dinner when he got home.

You’d gotten the easels and canvases set up as the door opened to a very exhausted Hyunjin. Just as he looks up he sees you with a grin plastered across your face.

“What's all this?” he makes his way over to you, smiling. 

“I got the idea the other day when I was waiting for you to come out of dance practice,” you smile at him, “You and your partner sit across from each other and you paint something, drink wine and show each other at the end.”

He stares at you in awe, his favorite person and his favorite pastime wrapped up into one hell of a night to start his vacation.

“Why don't you go get comfy, I'll order your favorite take out and we can get started?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

All he can do is smile at you as he rushes off toward your shared room.

 You’d just finished setting up the table as he came out of the bedroom.

“so…,“ you started as you looked at him, “I was thinking… since it’s October, we can maybe paint something fall themed?” you asked him.

“How about… a street decorated for Halloween?” he muses.

Your eyes lit up.

“Yes! I love that idea,” you exclaimed as he smiled at you. 

You’d always wanted to get involved with Hyunjins hobbies with him, in fact he actively encouraged you whenever you’d expressed interest. 

You couldn’t let yourself though… 

He was an idol and artist, so all of his hobbies he’d perfected over years.

You’d not taken art since highschool and even then it was okay at best. 

You’d never taken formal dance lessons, you’d simply learned to mimic simple choreography from older boy bands.

It’s not that you didn’t want to, you didn’t feel as good as he was and didn’t want to embarrass him, or have him think less of you. 

You’d sat down across from your boyfriend and started to paint.

You talked about a little bit of everything from your work, how the paint wasn't painting the way you’d thought, your future together. 

He seemed distracted however

You’d occasionally look over at him and you’d meet his gaze, causing you to blush and look away from him.

You weren't sure if it was the wine or just being around him making you feel like a schoolgirl.

“What is it?” you giggle at him.

“Oh nothing…,” He looks back at his canvas, swiping away at it as he smiles.

“Okay…,” you say as you paint your little signature at the bottom of your painting

“1…2…3!” 

You both flip your paintings around and to no surprise, his was gorgeous. 

A street with leaves of different colors, street lights, and adorable halloween decorations. 

This time? You didn’t feel inadequate. You smiled and laughed at how terribly adorable yours was.

Which caused him to giggle, and he looked at you fondly.

“Do you see it?” he says softly.

You look at his painting a little closer and you feel a familiar sense about his painting but can’t quite place it.

“Remember, our first date?” he looks at you. 

“How could I ever forget?” you reply, smiling fondly at him.

Then this should look really familiar because…” He trails off.

“This is the coffee shop you burned your mouth on hot chocolate in,” he points to the building  closest to him in the painting. 

“I tried painting the rest of it from memory,” he says softly, “I’ll never forget the way your face lit up at all the decorations,” he smiles softly.

You feel yourself get teary eyed, you’d never once doubted the way he felt about you or your relationship. 

This only confirmed it.

Confirmed your love for him.

“Hyunjin…You… you remember all that?” You look back at him.

“Like it was yesterday,” he looks back at you fondly.

He reaches his hand across the table, taking yours in his.

“Thank you for giving me an excuse to paint my favorite memory.”

[valkyriexo]

Hey Val

Can you please write about Chan comforting you during a thunderstorm? I have a fear, and sometimes I think it's really stupid, but I think Chan would be so comforting? thank u!!

You're Scared of Thunderstorms | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Thunderstorms, Anxiety

ᑉ³Authors Note; Hope you all enjoy :) thank you for the request!

It was a quiet, peaceful evening. You were nestled comfortably in your bed, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light across your cozy bedroom. The rain pattered gently against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your movie night.

Your bedroom was your sanctuary. The walls were painted a soft, calming color, and your bed was piled high with plush pillows and a thick, fluffy comforter. You had a cup of hot cocoa on your bedside table, its warmth radiating through the mug.

You were watching your favorite feel-good movie, a romantic comedy that never failed to lift your spirits. The lead had just confessed his love for the girl in a beautifully lit park, and you couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Just as the movie reached a heartwarming climax, the power suddenly went out. The television screen went dark, and the room was plunged into darkness. The comforting hum of the appliances ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of unease wash over you.

Moments later, a loud crack of thunder split the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a split second. The storm had arrived in full force, and you hadn't checked the weather. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of panic surged through you. You pulled the comforter up to your chin, trying to calm your racing heart, but the ominous rumbling and flashes of lightning outside only intensified your anxiety.

The house, which moments ago had felt like a safe haven, now seemed oppressive and dark. Each burst of thunder resonated through the walls. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one felt shallow and ineffective. Memories of past storms played in your mind—times when the thunder seemed endless, when you felt helpless and small against the raging elements.

Your fear of thunderstorms had roots deep in your childhood. You remembered one night in particular, when a fierce storm had knocked out the power for hours. You had been alone, hiding under your bed, every thunderclap feeling like it would shatter the world around you. Even now, as an adult, the raw terror of those nights lingered, resurfacing with every storm.

Another crash of thunder jolted you, and you found yourself trembling uncontrollably. The flashes of lightning seemed almost to mock your fear, each one revealing the room in stark, harsh relief before plunging it back into darkness. You felt trapped, as though the storm was pressing in on you from all sides, leaving no escape.

You tried to focus on the small, comforting details of your room—the scent of lavender, the softness of your pillows—but it was no use. The storm was all-consuming. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cry. 

Just then, you noticed a flash of light, but this time it wasn't from the storm—it was from your phone. You picked it up with shaking hands and saw a series of messages from Chan.

You took a deep breath, feeling a small surge of comfort from his concern. With trembling fingers, you typed a response.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on Chan's words. The memory of that day in the kitchen brought a small smile to your face. You remembered the warmth of his arms around you, the sweet scent of cookies baking, and the sound of your laughter mingling with his. It was a happy, safe memory. But another loud thunderclap quickly snuffed out any relief you felt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move or think clearly.

Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message from Chan.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands trembling, before finally pressing the call button. The phone rang twice before Chan's voice came through, calm and reassuring.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm right here," he said softly.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice shaking.

"I'm coming over," he said firmly. "I can't leave you alone like this."

"But what about your dinner plans?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and guilt.

"They can wait. You're more important," he replied without hesitation.

"No... Please don't cancel your plans because of me," you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound brave. "It's gonna make me feel worse. It's just raining... It's just rain... I can do this." The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, shaking with fear. "I can be alone... Go with your friends."

Another super loud thunderclap struck, reverberating through the house and shaking the walls. You shrieked in fear, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the phone tighter, your whole body trembling.

"Baby, I know you're scared," Chan's voice was filled with concern. "I promise you're safe. It's just a storm, and you're inside. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But the house is shaking," you cried, your tears blurring your vision as the fear threatened to overwhelm you.

"I know it's scary, but I swear you're safe. Just hang on a little longer. I'm almost there," he reassured you, his voice steady and comforting. "Just keep talking to me. You're doing great. Remember, it's just a storm. You're safe inside."

Another crash of thunder made you flinch, and you felt tears falling from your eyes. "I can't... I can't do this," you choked out.

"You can, baby. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you. Just a little longer, okay? Remember when we went to that carnival, and you were so scared to go on the Ferris wheel? But you did it, and we had the best time. This is just like that. You can do this," Chan said, his voice gentle and encouraging.

The minutes stretched on like hours as you waited, every crash of thunder making you jump. You tried to focus on Chan's voice, his calm, steady words keeping you tethered as the storm raged outside.

"I'm going to use the spare key to come in, okay? Don't be scared. It's just me." Finally, you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Relief washed over you as you realized Chan was here. You heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and then he was there, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his presence instantly calming you.

Without hesitation, Chan sprinted across the room and scooped you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "It's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmured.

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed freely. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and you felt the storm's hold on you beginning to loosen.

Chan kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. "I'm here now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you when I'm with you," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

Another clap of thunder rumbled through the house, but this time, it felt distant, less threatening with Chan's arms around you. He rocked you gently, his presence a fortress against the storm.

"Listen to me, baby," Chan said, his voice right by your ear. He tilted your head slightly so his mouth was close to your ear, and you could feel his breath against your skin. "Focus on my voice. Just listen to me." His words were deliberate, each one spoken to cover the sound of the thunder.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Chan. This fear is so stupid. I shouldn't have pulled you away from your friends."

"Hey, hey," Chan interrupted gently, his voice soft and filled with love. "Don't apologize. This isn't stupid. Your feelings are never stupid."

"But I—" you started to say, but he shushed you softly.

"Shh, listen to me. There’s nothing to be sorry about," he reassured you. "I love everything about you. Your fear of thunderstorms doesn’t change that. It’s part of who you are, and I love every part of you."

Another roll of thunder echoed outside, but Chan’s voice kept you anchored. "I love how you light up when you talk about your favorite books. I love how kind you are to everyone, even strangers. I love your laugh, your smile, the way you make me feel when I’m around you."

His voice was steady, filled with a sincerity that melted your anxiety. "I love how you make me cookies when I've had a long day, how you remember the little things that make me happy. You make my life so much better just by being in it."

"I love how brave you are," he whispered, his lips close to your ear. "Even when you don't feel it, you’re stronger than you know."

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, your fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"I’m here, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I’ll always be here. You never have to face anything alone. Not thunderstorms, not anything. I love you, exactly as you are."

The storm outside continued, but with Chan’s arms around you and his loving words filling your ear, it felt like a distant worry. You snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his love and the safety of his embrace.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you whispered back, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Chan replied, his voice full of warmth. "Now and always."

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[loveforseung]

✉️ྀི ˚ ❀ ۪  𝓉𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝔦 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝓎𝑜𝓊 . . . . 𝒷𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝓇𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝘮𝘦 𑁥౿ 𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝓃𝑜 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝘦𝘭𝘴e . ✩

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡ ˚ ˚ ‎‎ ‎ ○ ˳

◟✿ ┈ ★ ! consider reblogging, liking or following as credit before use !

[hoji-licious]

pairing! -) ( bang chan x f! idol! reader

genre! -) ( smau

summary! -) ( as the leaders of your respective groups, who have always been viewed as being close. involve and stray kids, you and bang chan have always been praised for your close friendship. but behind closed doors, what happens when an extra strain is placed on your friendship when you're involved in a dating rumor with another idol

warnings! -) ( lil bit angsty, feelings of incompetence, lol idk! i still gotta write this out

hoji's a/n! -) ( me after being dead for two whole months... and if you wanna be added to the taglist, comment lol

-----

chapter index.

00. introductions - skz // involve // extras

01. ???

02. ???

03. ???

04. ???

05. ???

.

more to be determined

[romancefranaticstay]

A/N: Because i really didn't know which member you wanted, i will use Lee Know for this, i haven't made story's about him in a while. Feel free to comment if you had another member in mind or members! But here is it! I hope you like it 💗

The perfect family with the perfect children. Your parents had a lot of money, okay. Your parents had a lot of stuff, what difference does that make? The only thing you didn't get was love. Money couldn't compensate with love. Even when you were little, your parents didn't pay you any attention. You were babysat while they did something else. You didn't really know where they were going.

They weren't brutal or gruesome behind the scenes, they just didn't care about you, ignoring your words, ignoring your problems. Then they wonder why you didn't like them. What a child endures in his youth has consequences for the future. Even though they didn't understand that.

FLASHBACK

'Don't forget, smile, nod and serve.'

your mother said sternly. You were neatly dressed, you had a beautiful dark blue dress with neat black shoes. You could say the perfect daughter. Your parents' faces were cold. They prepared everything so that they could receive their friends in the large living room. A bell sounded, they had arrived. Your mother walked to the door with a stern step, once she opened it she became a different person. It was as if her soul was being swapped. You stood behind her, peering, there was some distance between you.

'Welcome! Give your things to Y/N.”

“Ahh, hello girl. You've already grown up.'

"Yes, she's my big girl." your mother laughed with a fake smile.

She hugged you quickly, even though you felt no warmth, no love. Your parents pampered you all the time. It felt bad that they only did it because there were guests, but at the moment you enjoyed it. When the guests wanted to leave, you mentally prepared yourself again. Once the door was closed, your parents went into the living room and just sat there.

"Mommy, daddy, do you love me?"

"What kind of question is that, you are our daughter."

'Is that all?'

'Is there more?'

'No.' you said quietly.

You went up the stairs to your bedroom. Your bedroom was nice and big, with lots of toys and lots of stuff. Despite the luxury, you missed something. Your friends always told stories about their parents reading them stories or watching a movie together. Cozy and cozy in the armchair with a big fluffy blanket... you cried in your room that day, when you realised, you never received parental love...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The real problem started when you were eighteen. You met a cool guy at your university. His name was Lee Know. You quickly became friends. Your relationship grew and at one point he wanted to be roommates. Of course your parents didn't care. Even though they were very 'emotional' about the move (the move was public). After a year you started dating. Now you're 21, you've been with him for two years. Suddenly he asked for something that you couldn't give him.

“Y/N, I never actually met your parents?”

'Really?' you lied.

'Yes, I would like to meet them sometime. The people who created you are probably just as sweet as you are.'

'Yes, they certainly are.' you forced a smile onto your face.

"I'll take care of it." you lied.

You had told him they were busy at the moment. You tried for two weeks to focus his thoughts elsewhere, and it still worked. He forgot after a while, but then he asked again and again, again and again. Eventually he started to think that you didn't want to introduce him to his parents, technically that was true, but not in the way he thought.

“Y/N, why won't you introduce me to your parents?”

you froze.

'Why? Are you ashamed of me?'

"No, no, Lee Know that's not the reason." '

'Then what? Then what is the reason? I introduced you to my parents, right?'

"I know that, I know that."

"You're going to tell me a thorough reason now."

“I-i..”

tears came to your eyes, they rolled down your cheeks by the hundreds. Lee Know's face softened.

“Hey, hey, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just-, I just wanted to know why?'

he wiped the tears from your face with his hands.

"I hate them." you whispered.

"You, you hate them?" You nodded softly, not wanting to look at him right now.

'Why?'

you continued to stare at the ground. He gently lifted your chin.

“Look at me Y/N. Tell me.'

Your lips quivered, you started to stutter. Lee Know hugged you and rocked you from side to side.

“Shh, I get it. Just tell me when you're ready, okay?'

He felt you nod against his chest. He picked you up in one motion, your hands were around his neck. He carried you to the bedroom and gently laid you on the bed. He grabbed his laptop and covered himself and you with a warm blanket. He put on a series, you curled up against him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You opened your eyes and saw Lee Know awake. He was looking at you. His arms still hugging you.

'You want to tell me it?'

You accepted.

'The thing is, my parents didn't give me any love when I was little. They were different at home than outside. They gave me a lot of stuff and luxury, but that was it.”

he nodded.

'I want to introduce you to them, but not them to you. I just don't want to be in the same room as them, it would all be too much for me.'

"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

'I don't know, I'm trying to get them out of my life. Forgetting them, no matter how difficult it may be.'

"I get it, I won't bother you about it anymore okay?"

He held you tighter. You nuzzled into his chest.

'May I ask you something?'

"Of course kitten."

"How does it feel to have parents?"

'What do you mean?'

"How does it feel to have parents and not people who just made you."

"I'll be honest, I love my parents dearly because they love me dearly too."

You nodded.

"My parents also love you dearly, for you you are their daughter."

'Really?'

“Yes Y/N. They constantly check with me to see if everything is okay with you. They ask for you, just like concerned parents.'

You had some tears of happiness in your eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lee Know's parents were slowly becoming your 'parents' too. You grew very close to his mother, she was like the mother you never had. Your parents didn't bother you, because they didn't call you anyway. Life continued again. You could proudly say that you were no longer Y/N I/N but Y/N Know.

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐

-------------------------------- THE END----------------------------------

└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

[yangbbokari]

Back To Me

Pairing: Kim!Seungmin x F!Reader

Genre/AU/Tropes: Angst, non-idol!au, lovers to exes

Warnings: breakup, language, regrets(if that counts idk), implied cheating, daddy issues

WC: 2.5k

Summary: Things with Seungmin just didn’t seem to ever look up and when you confront him about it, he lashes out

A.N: !NOT PROOF READ!Feedback is greatly appreciated*★,°*:.☆(￣▽￣)/$:*.°★* 。also, I’ve been obsessed with “Back To Me” by The Rose since it came out and this ff idea has been weighing heavily on my mind. I am not implying that said idol(s) behave anywhere near what is mentioned in this ff. Inspo from 

Song rec: ‘Back To Me’ by The Rose

You can still remember those sweet moments with Seungmin. You ran along the seashore as he snapped pictures with his camera you gifted him on his birthday. He took you on a short trip to the park and took pictures of you with your hair blowing in the wind. The both of you laid beside each other, getting lost in the other’s eyes.

But you can’t remember when it all started. What caused that sudden change in your relationship? Was it you? Was it him? You would never know…

You didn’t sense it. It all kind of just… happened. Slowly, Seungmin started to grow distant from you. You wish you knew why. I mean, you could’ve just asked him what’s wrong right? Well, the answer is no. How do you ask someone who’s never home and doesn’t reply to your texts? On days he would actually come home, he wouldn’t talk to you. When he did, all he would do was lash out at you for things that weren’t even your fault.

You tried to support him, you really did. You always kept your calm and told yourself it was just because of his stress stemming from work. But it wasn’t long before it broke you down. Nipping at even your smallest insecurities. So on one of the days when he came home, you just said it all to him.

As soon as you heard the door open, so did your mouth. “Come eat dinner. It’s gonna get co- I’m not hungry”, he cut you off. You got up from your seat at the table and forced him to sit down. He sighed heavily. “What do you want, Y/n. You're driving me crazy. I have enough shit from work and now you're being so demanding.” You scoff. You don’t know where it came from but a fire set ablaze in your eyes and all you felt was irritation.

I can make you mad, I can make you scream

“I’m the one driving you crazy!? I’ve just been looking after you and trying to help you through this stress. But suddenly I’m the problem? You know what? I’m tired of this. You can’t just blame me for shit I didn’t even know of. I’m trying to be a good girlfriend and for what? For you just to come home and berate me when you feel like it?” You were breathing heavily by now and the anger consumed you. “Well, you’re not the one working are you? You’re not the one earning money. You’re not the one putting food on the table. You’re not th- But I’m the one trying to make this relationship survive!!!”, you cut him off because you couldn't bear to hear those words come from his mouth. He knew how much they hurt you. 

Your dad said the exact same words before leaving you on your own with your sick and dying mother. When your mother died, it left you in shambles. You were barely 12 then and so your aunt adopted you. And she treated you like her own. She was the only family you had left until you met Seungmin. But now it feels like she was and still is the only family you have left.

Seungmin huffed before taking a bite of food. But, he immediately spit back out along with his venomous words. “What the fuck is this!? It’s salty as hell! And you wonder why I’m not eating this shit.” Before you could even process his words, you heard the front door shut. You were all alone now. Again.

I can make you cry

After taking a shower you had no strength to do anything else. It wasn’t exactly a physical problem. You were just mentally and emotionally exhausted. You laid down in bed and curled yourself in a tight ball, with the blankets covering you. You felt vulnerable and weak. Like you couldn’t do anything to save your once perfect relationship with Seungmin. Suddenly your face began to feel wet. You were crying. But now, you were beyond the point of just crying. You were sobbing uncontrollably. 

Did he fall out of love with you? Or was he just playing you all along? Did he find someone already and he was waiting for a perfect chance to break up? Why did he change? Was it because of you? Or was this his true self and you were too blinded by love to realize it? What happened to that sweet smile that was always hidden behind the camera? What happened to his velvety laughs that would echo through the night? What went wrong..?

You ended up crying yourself to sleep but when you woke up, you found that you had a cold. It must’ve been from the crying last night. You felt your head pounding from all sides. You quickly went to the kitchen and took some painkillers. If Seungmin was here right now, he would be the one taking care of you. Does he even want to be here?

“No. Stop thinking about him, Y/n. He’s the reason you’re like this.”, you thought out loud. You hated the thought of even contacting him in the state you were in, but you needed someone there while you were sick.

Calling all day but I never pick up, instead of pulling my weight always pushin’ my luck

So you called him.

No answer.

Called him again…

No answer.

The cycle went on a couple more times before you sent a voice message. 

“Hey, Baby. I’m sorry for what happened last night. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that and I understand that you’re also busy and stressed. But can you please come home? I just really need you here right now.”

It has now been several days and your fever isn't getting any better. You spend most of your time in bed but force yourself to take medicine and find something to eat. Left with no choice, you called your friend.

Yuna came over in no time, making sure that you weren’t hurt. But she could clearly see how much you were burning up and the immediate help you needed. She nursed you over the weekend until you were okay. When she asked about Seungmin and found out what happened, she tried her best to convince you to leave him. She always knew that he would do no good for you. But you wouldn’t listen. You refused to. It was only a fight between the two of you. He'd come back to you. Right?

You gave me all that I could take, yeah I take it all for granted. Head up in the clouds, yeah I'll never understand it

Seungmin didn't even return until a full three months later. When he arrived, he wouldn't even look at you. Even though he laid beside you to sleep at night, there was nothing but a wall between you two. It was suffocating you. But it clearly wasn't having the same effect on Seungmin. He would giggle in the middle of the night at some tiktoks he was watching, not minding that he'd wake you up.

It was all so frustrating but you just couldn't find it in you to leave him. Well... that's what you thought at first.

Love no longer remained and if there was any, it was fully one-sided. You were sick of this. The constant mental torture was doing you no good and it slowly killed you. It didn't feel as if you were even a couple. You felt like a caretaker. That's not what you bargained for when you started this relationship.

You tried everything in the books to get him to open up to you. Only to learn, that he was just getting tired of you. You no longer interested him. Or so he said,

"Meh. I've just been bored and trying to find a better entertainment source."

You were so fed up with his, if not irritated, nonchalant attitude. When would he realize that he was hurting you. This internal rage was constantly being built up and you just couldn't handle it anymore.

So you opted for the only choice left. To leave him.

I can make you leave. I can make you hate me for everything.

You packed your clothes and belongings into every box and suitcase you could afford and sent it off to your aunt's. You had already told her of the plan and she agreed. Now all that was left was for him to return home. Time ticked by and the anticipation was killing you. Your knee bounced furiously. You were chewing on your thumb nail until you heard the click of the front door. An exhausted Seungmin stepped through.

"Hey, Seungie. Can we talk?"

He groaned as he walked past you. "Let's talk tomorrow. I'm too tired."

"No. We need to talk like now. It's really important. Please?"

Seungmin rolled his eyes before walking back over to you. "What's so important that you're disturbing my rest?"

You nervously fiddled with your hands. It was more nerve-wracking than you thought. You mustered up the last of your courage you had left and looked him in the eye.

"Let's break up."

"What?"

"Let's go our own seperate ways and break up."

"Okay." He waved you off as he headed to the bedroom to sleep.

Shocked wasn't exactly how you'd describe yourself. To be honest, you kind of expected this. They way he brushed things off so easily wasn't new to you. So you didn't even cry. You just grabbed what you had left and made your way to your aunt's house.

As soon as she embraced you, that's when you let your tears fall. It hurt all too much. Everything that Seungmin had been doing to you for the past two years were spilled out in the hour long conversation shared between you and your aunt. Your hatred only continued to grow for Seungmin and soon, all that was left was hatred for him.

Seungmin didn't even notice that you never came to bed. In fact, everything you previously said flew over his head from his exhaustion. It wasn't until he had awoken that he realized you were nowhere in sight. At first he assumed that you may have went to cook breakfast or collect grocceries. But then he remembered what happened last night. He covered his mouth and his eyes began to water.

He began remembering the horrible things he's been saying to you. He didn't mean any of it. Most of the time it wasn't even directed towards you. It was just pure exhaustion. He only tried to come off as happy so he wouldn't upset you. But that only seemed to make it worse.

What he chose to do though, was give you time. He knew he wasn't the exact person you wanted to talk to at the moment. He shook his head at himself. You'd be back in a week hopefully. That's what he thought up until he felt like the house was a little too empty. SO he checked every nook and cranny. None of your belongings remained. No toothbrush, no clothes, no books, no devices, no personal items. Not even your scent lingered.

God, what had he done?

Calling all day, trynna make things right

Seungmin quickly grabbed his phone and called you. His fingers ran through his hair as the call never made it through time and time again. Now he was extremely worried. What if something happened to you?

So he called your closest friend, Yuna. She picked up rather quickly.

"The hell do you want, assface?" She said almost immediately.

Seungmin swallowed hard before asking her, "Do you know where y/n is? I haven't been able to reach her. Do you know if she's okay?"

"Shouldn't you be able to know the whereabouts of your own girlfriend?"

"Look I really don't know and I'm worried. Something went on last night and she's not home. Now my calls aren't getting through and I don't know what to think."

"Well to me, it looks like she finally took my advice. Have a horrible day, bitch." And with that, Yuna hung up.

"FUCK!!" Seungmin cursed loudly as he flung his phone across the room. Had you really left him? Was he that horrible of a person? He chuckled. Who was he kidding? Of course he was that horrible. The amount of pain he must've inflicted on you. His heart clenched.

He began crying as that was all there was to do left.

It's been a couple of months and both of you were trying to move on. Was it easy? No. At least you both tried though. But fate seemed to have other plans.

Just to fuck it all up when I see you tonight. Since you told me hit the road, I've been runnin' on empty, If anything I know it's how to ruin a happy ending

It was a Friday night and Seungmin chose to spend it at a local bar. Guess that bar must've been a little too local. Because there you were, standing just 20 feet away from him. Seungmin could feel his heartbeat accelerate. He so desperately wanted to run and hug you. It felt like hell without you.

You were no longer there to remind him that he was loved. You were no longer there wishing him good nights and good mornings. You were no longer there to cook him his everyday meals. You were no longer there to give him a goodbye kiss.

But you were here, with another man. Seungmin knew he had no right but he couldn’t help but feel jealous. You told him that you’d always be his so why was it different now? Truth was, he knew the answer. Anger and jealousy blinded him though.

He stomped the whole way over there and yanked you by the wrist. “Who’s this!?” He asked angrily. “What the fuck, Seungmin! Why the hell are you here!?” Seungmin didn’t even hear you as he suddenly flung his fist into the dude’s face.

You grabbed Seungmin by the collar and pulled him towards you, landing a hard smack on his face. “Stop, you fucking asshole.”

He immediately snapped out of it. Seungmin looked at you apologetically but it was already too late. He could see it in your eyes. The disgust, hat and annoyance. How could he do that to you?

”Wait, y/n…”

And he couldn’t even salvage it. So he left. That’s all he could do. He knew you wouldn’t take him back. When he thought about it, he wouldn’t take himself back either. So he began drinking. Drinking all the pain away.

But I can’t make you come back to me

He’d lost you completely and there was nothing he could do. He wanted to scream at you that you couldn’t leave him. But he knew he was in the wrong. On your wedding day he watched as you posted the photos. You and some other dude instead of you and him.

He couldn’t find the strength in him to go to the actual event. He’d lose control if he did. He wanted to tell you,

“I’m sorry.”

But what good would that do. If he truly wanted you to be happy, he’d leave you alone, and that’s what he did. He watched you from afar. He still cried from time to time. He was happy for you. But he had to admit,

“But, I still wan’t you.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a.n: this has been on pause for 3 months now😭 and idk if ya caught on to the 2nd song at the end but yeah. Anyways, hope ya enjoyed bc this has been a long awaited fix. Sry to anyone who was waiting. Have a great day/night!!! Love y’all!!🫶💕💗

[sunboki]

⎯ for eternity longer. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. pregnancy! au, dad! channie au, overall so so fluffy, comfort, slighttt angst if you squint

WORD COUNT. 6.4k words ☆ 30 minute read

WARNINGS. worry about delivery complications, cursing (??), anxiety, implied intercourse, regards to gender

AUG'S NOTES. i think channie would be an amazing dad :) just a thought i decided to place to paper (in this case, digitally). thank you for waiting so patiently!! please enjoy <3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Christopher Bahng had intentions upon one day being a father, but when the news of a little one on the way becomes the forefront of a life he’d initially spent with one world, you, he’s quickly introduced to the second world he’ll come to adore, a baby.

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

His name is whispered between sleepy breaths, brows knitted where your eyes attempt at focusing amidst a slumbering haze.

The meager vision granted from a candle paves view to your husband, currently resting his cheek against the soft bump of your belly, pressing the occasional kiss there.

“It’s so cute,” He mumbles, tracing shapes along the skin, eyes crinkling into the dimpled-smile you’ve come to adore.

“‘S late.”

Offering the remark, you smooth a thumb along his jaw, dipping down to trace his bottom lip and earning a small peck against the digit in reply, chocolate irises flickering up to your face with so much love you fear you’re melting.

“I know,” Chris whispers where his lips press to your thumb, voice muffled. “I’m sorry just—“

One chaste kiss to your belly later and he cracks a smile.

“Just love it.” 

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.” 

You are my world, he professes wordlessly, and you scorn the heaviness of your eyes in shielding him from view, the inability for your vocal cords to utter those same three words as you drift back to sleep.

And this is my second world, Chris thinks to himself, fighting slumber to gaze at you just a moment longer, savor. 

Because he couldn’t explain how lucky he is, and how beautiful you are, and how warm he feels, his head fuzzy and jumbled into mushy bliss.

A baby, and the thought alone makes him want to squeal.

Chris had yet to ever be hit by a tsunami (thank goodness for that), but he thinks he’s found an equivalent to the feeling.

That equivalent being a particular call while in the studio, an unsettlingly studious Han Jisung seated behind him on the couch while Changbin stands in the recording room, pointing out things in need of fine tuning.

So when you call, he’s led to believe it could be regarding dinner, maybe a date preposition away from his busied schedule.

Yet, upon hearing a sniffle, his eyes round to the size of saucers, index aptly missing where he’d click his mouse, drawing the attention of his fellow producers, their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

“Chris.. baby, I know this is so.. so sudden but,” Between your hiccups and his heart racing, he reruns everything that could’ve gone amiss. He knew you were running late when it came to your period thanks to the cycle-tracking app on his phone, but then again, usually it’d miraculously show up.

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

His head fills with a plethora of possibilities, too many to pinpoint.

“Baby I,” You pause, and Chris rises up to slip to the corner of the room, shushing you gently.

“Hey, hey honey, ‘need you to take deep breaths, okay? It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me whenever you’re ready.” He consoles, shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt at warding the nerves.

A sharp inhale and then-

“We’re having a baby, Chris. I’m pregnant.”

It’s hard for you to even believe, and Chris swears his stomach jumped to his throat for a moment, making hurried eye contact with an evidently confused Han and Changbin from across the studio.

Pregnant.

Immediately abandoning his work, he grants the two a hurried nod they simply wave in response to, fervently racing from the building and somehow managing to avoid a ticket on his 20-mile-over-the-speed-limit drive home, rushing through the doorway to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, let you cry as much as you need.

Hell, he’s not the one carrying the baby anyway. You’re the one in need of all the fretting.

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

Tender fingers ease back the strands of hair from your face, pressing kiss after kiss to your sniffling frame.

If you want to keep the baby, if you need time to think, time to be alone, he’s ready for that. All of it. 

Though contraceptives were always in play when it came to the bedroom, it seemed some things would remain out of control.

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

And he’s okay with that, okay with anything his beloved decides upon, thumbing the tears from your pretty face to place a slow kiss to your lips.

On this presumably routine Thursday of his, Chris finds out he’s going to be a Dad.

If there was an acute title to cover the months of your pregnancy, it would be: Ways Christopher Bahng Has Lost His Mind, A Saga. 

Plus the bump, of course.

As for today, at a darling twelve weeks, Chris’s cup of coffee grows cold the longer he entertains a call from Jisung—currently being berated for failing to give them even the slightest clue what was going on until dropping the news.

..In which ensues a screaming Hyunjin in the background, Minho’s snide jokes, Changbin’s silent shock, and the evident awe of the surrounding members leering by the phone where the friend group went for drinks.

Minus the dad-to-be.

”So.. Daddy-O, how’s the father thing going for you?” Jisung offers after a moment, his snickering followed by Chris’s bemused scoff. 

“A dream,” He replies, running a hand through curly brown strands wound into charming coils from earlier steam, having stepped from the shower moments ago.

It was true, every bit.

To think that you, his love he’s worried more about than anyone, spent countless nights awake thinking of has now granted him the greatest gift of a lifetime leaves him elated. 

Trust, the first ultrasound he cried as if he was the baby.

Of course, failing to give their leader a second of reprieve, his remark earns a cacophony of swooning and cringing in response to the sappiness.

Nonetheless, since the announcement he’s organized an update in schedule. More work from home, more paychecks cashed into maternity magazines and things he learns with time in order to support your pregnancy, and tagging along to each and every checkup.

With you already sleeping and him returning late from the studio, the night is slow, quiet. 

Well, after he hangs up.

”Hey sweetness, ‘sorry for waking you.”

Watching your face crinkle up as the bed dips beneath his weight, he reaches a hand forward, sweeping the hair from your face as your husband spoons you close to his back, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief.

Your smell, your warmth, touch.

He’s far too smitten to be healthy.

But then again, is there any remedy to adoration?

“Busy at the studio?” You murmur from your curled up spot, only just beginning to get used to sleeping on your side.

Of the many adjustments.

“Mm,” A nod nudges at your back, his fingertips—oh so careful as they roam—settling on your stomach, holding the skin with reverence you can’t help but hum in response to.

“I cannot believe you,” Begun with a bemused scoff, you earn your husbands grunt of confusion and yet another laugh on your end.

“There’s barely a bump and they’ve got you wrapped around their finger already.”

This, predictably, results in Chris’s boyish whine. 

“‘S not my fault,” He groans like a petulant teenager, nosing at the nape of your neck. 

“Just love you.” 

His voice is a mere utterance amidst the fan overhead, and you have to crane to hear him.

“And I’m going to be learning to love someone else soon.”

A soft squeeze to your belly.

“How exciting.” 

Twenty weeks, and your big journey comes in the form of grocery shopping, something you insisted upon doing alone (much to Chris’s fretting).

Although he tries his best in not being a mother hen, it’s beyond difficult without his instinctive worry butting in, so nervous for a reason he himself can’t even pinpoint.

Is he worried about you? Is he excited about the baby? 

Endless questions swim in his mind, dappling a world he once knew as black and white into shades of pastel, with charming rubber duckies and pacifiers to boot.

It’s a new world, one full of unfamiliar things and little surprises along the way. 

But he’s made his promise to lay off the stressing as much as he can, knowing you need time for you most of all before becoming new parents.

Crouched over the tiny home studio he’s procured, your husband arduously searches through files—sending the majority over to Jisung and Changbin for revisions back at the main studio.

From the corner or his vision does he see you and—

Ah.

There you stand, clad in a sweater of yours tucked into a long, flower-patterned skirt—just enough to show off the bump, and he swears he’s looking at you with heart-eyes.

Gorgeous.

If not more.

Yet another reason why Chris has lost his mind.

You’re more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen, and he doubts that factor will change for the rest of his life. Even when you’re emotional and begin growing insecure, when your feet hurt or when your cravings grow too volatile, he adores.

Too much sometimes he fears his heart will beat from his chest. 

“Hi, sweetness.” 

The words are a bit hoarse, spoken as if he were uttering the endearment through a tube. 

“Hi, Channie.”

Shoot him.

Joking.

Kind of.

You’re too cute. He’s going to have a heart attack. 

Looking like that, cupid has his job cut out for him.

“You headed out?”

Reaching for your bag does Chris rise from his chair, padding over to gather your face in his hands and press a slow kiss to your lips you soak up, your own hands winding into curly strands he groans in response to.

“Mm,” He begins after a moment, kiss after kiss pressed to your jaw, down your neck, by your earlobe his teeth nip at. “I’m getting déjà vu on how the baby got here, hm?”

Spurring your laughter and a light smack to his shoulder in response, his warm hands slip down to cradle your belly, a final touch followed by one last kiss before you’re off.

It’s much too easy to fall in love with this man over and over again.

.

.

.

Of many surprises throughout your pregnancy, Lee Minho knowing about babies happened to be yet another. That, and seeing him at the grocery store in the first place.

The baby food aisle is more than daunting, and while the determined part of you crooned about “making it yourself” and taking the time to mash up each and every carrot and apple slice, the sensible part knew the moment you were discharged from the hospital after delivery, there was no chance you’d take on such a task.

“This one’s good.”

Having been greeted with a small wave of his hand and quieted footsteps approaching close, the dancer peers into your cart, brows lifted in silent acquisition where he points to a brand of mashed banana purée. 

How he knows this baby food is good is beyond you. 

Then again, Minho has always been peculiar.

“Hm? Any other recommendations?” You ponder, deciding to entertain his conversation and gaining plenty of recommendations whilst roaming about in the process.

Though, that’s before a frivolous little boy comes blindly tottering along, his clumsy limbs aimed straight for you prior to Minho’s careful step shielding you, the panicked mother steering the toddler away with endless apologies.

About to thank him, he seems to beat you to it.

“Mm? Need to sit down?” Observant eyes flitting over your form, he places an assuring hand to the middle of your back you can’t help but feel appreciative of.

It’s not that Minho isn’t kind, he’s usually just.. more subtle about it. Putting extra food a member likes on their plate without them noticing, making sure everyone feels included during dinners.

So for him to be a bit more upfront about it is.. sweet.

Well, until a wry smile tugs at his lips in amusement.

“‘Think you can handle that? A toddler like that?”

And.. there’s the Minho you’re used to.

“I think..” The thought comes to you as you venture, his hand remaining where it lingers upon your sweater-clad back as you make for the checkout line.

“The baby will look more like Chris.”

This beckons a cocked brow, evident mischief on his face.

“What, balding at twenty-six?”

You were thinking cute, with Chris’s curls and big brown eyes but— yeah, that too apparently. Your husband would both burst out laughing and burst into tears if he were here, the mental image bringing a smile to your lips.

Nevertheless, you spend your time with the feline-like companion cracking not-so-funny jokes and snide but playful remarks, a silent “thank you” mouthed when he lifts the grocery bags from your hands to carry to the car.

“Say, what’re you doing over here anyway?” 

“Mmh?” He perks up, fluffy bangs fringing beneath a bucket hat upon his head, the slow gust of an occasional breeze announcing Winter’s gradual departure, moseying on to Spring.

“Ah,” Bunny-like teeth peek from his upper lip when his lips part, hoisting a single bag of his own upward. “Food for the kitties.” 

Of course.

The corner of your lips quirk into a grin.

Though, before you’re given the chance to slip into the front seat, he points again, regarding your bump this time.

“Should stop by sometime,” He starts, pausing before glancing down to your feet. “Or I can come to you two if you’re not up to it.” 

There it is, the tiny shred of consideration you treasure, one so swift you may miss it if you aren’t listening closely that warms your heart effortlessly.

“The kitties would knead your belly,” Mumbled quieter than the rest, a giggle stirs from his chest, wishing you off after a few moments the same way he greeted you: a wave and a small, awkward, tight-lipped smile.

And on your ride home, you decide upon giving Chris a call.

“Do you think the baby will start balding early?”

A chaste silence and some crackling from the other side of the line and then- 

“What.”

“‘M outside the studio, baby.”

“You’re what?”

A second “what”, after the balding question those few weeks ago.

Chris wants to think tricks are being played on him after having pleaded for you to stay home and wait to be pampered when he returns, but it seemed the leader—with his own stubborn tirade of seven—had forgotten his wife was equally as stubborn, and that if you were adamant on something, there’s no chance you’d budge.

And so, as the ultimate pushover(which he’ll admit himself) of a husband, he simply sighs, awaiting your precious, slightly-waddling figure making towards them from the elevator.

Ah, right. 

The waddle.

Oh if it doesn’t make his heart soar.

You’re almost surreal, with your soft, rounded frame and sweet, sweet eyes making him simply want to keep you in a hug forever.

From beside him, Hyunjin starts into a sing-song cacophony of: “The Mrs.’s is here” in tandem with your entrance, resulting in Chris’s light smack to his friend’s shoulder and the reddening of his ears as he both tries (and fails) to focus on new tracks.

So now, in occupying the couch behind him with Han on one side and Felix on your other, you spend your time giggling over videos on the freckled blond’s phone, chowing down on a bag of potato chips placed between you and Han, entertaining light conversation with Changbin, and sharing those momentary glances with your husband.

Quiet looks, with his face drained from the workload not failing to light up where he meets your eyes, your own warming happily. 

“Come home,” does your eyes speak.

“Just a little longer,” he replies without words.

 As the day stretches it’s exhaustion, waning a warm hue into evening sunset, Chris pads over, slow and wary where your sleepy form props upon the couch, fuzzy-sock-clad feet elevated on a pillow courtesy of Hyunjin’s matter-a-fact scolding to lower the swelling.

“I’m letting the little one listen,” He whispers, this squeaky, cheery giggle leaving his lips where he places the headphones once in hand overtop your belly, the low hum of their newest, unreleased track faintly resounding against the skin you can’t help but grin at.

It’s a scary thing, you think for a moment.

And then, just happy.

So you’ll cling to that happiness, no matter how fleeting. 

And a tiny nudge against the skin, a kick, tells you someone else is clinging to that happiness as well.

“Yah.. even if it’s almost spring, there’s still some breeze! Stay warm! Don’t try being a spring chicken!” Clicking his tongue in softened contempt, Han claps his hands resolutely, face scrunched up in conviction as the ever-adorable maknae, Jeongin, eases his jacket over your shoulders.

Resulting in the group’s ace’s squeal of affection and a harsh smack to Minho’s thigh, the older of the two fixes him with a glare Han fails to notice through his cooing, too busy admiring the bump peeking through the jacket.

It seems Chris isn’t the only one growing into a worried mess, and your trip home from the studio you press to take alone is filled with their hollering and well-wishes, the group having opted out for drinks knowing you’d be the odd one out with your mug of water relative to the bubbling of a beer, a matter you find heart-warming.

No less, you spend your night anticipating the arrival of a very sleepy Chris, busying yourself trying to follow a recipe without gagging at the most random of things.

Feebly managing through placing the tray in the oven, you deflate as a pair of long-awaited, warm arms come wrapping around you.

A mere lift from his hands, holding the weight of a nearly 30-week bump feels heavenly, and you simply groan, head lolling back against his shoulder, welcoming the kisses pressed to your cheek, neck.

Because as much as his own nerves are afire, Chris knows more than anything it’s pivotal for you to be taken care of as well. Making breakfast before heading out in the mornings, sending you little texts to remind you to stay hydrated.

Tiny things you hold close to your being, even if he isn’t aware.

Thank you, spoken amidst his subtle care.

I know, I love you, answered upon joining you in your nightly skincare.

“Ah? Really?”

Chatter after chatter fills the small bathroom, your spare bedroom already ransacked of its contents in making room for a nursery.

As for the conversation at hand, Chris fills you in on his dango pudding obsession while you busy yourself in applying moisturizer to his skin, a silly, matching headband to yours pulling back the hair from his face.

“Jisung got me hooked on it,” He grumbles, lashes fluttering down to fondly watch where you press a kiss to his lips before applying vaseline there, his fingers instinctively reaching for your pajamas like a clingy child.

You don’t mind.

“How’re you feeling?” He murmurs after a moment, head tipped quizzically, the slight knit of his brows in concern you wish to scowl at.

Sometimes it’s harder not swooning when it comes to your husband.

“You know me,” You start, scorning your ability to hear each thump of your heart in your chest within the quietness of the room. “I’m okay, yeah? The fatigue is just a pain, that’s all.”

His arms finding purchase on either side of the bathroom counter where he cages you in, you’re quickly reminded how this pregnancy came to be the longer you stare at his biceps, the veins littering upwards from his hands.

Not fair.

“You tell me, hm? If you need me to work from home more days, yeah? I will, you know that, honey.”

And of course he’s like some sort of forbidden fruit, so sweetly wholesome, sweet generally, when he looks so good. 

Too good.

For a time again, not fair.

“Chris.”

Screw it. You’re pregnant, and rightfully hot and bothered.

A little thing about pregnancy that no one had bothered to let you in on? There’s never been a greater time in your life that you’ve felt this horny.

Plus, an okay from the doctor is an okay to you. 

The other okay is his arms, and the utterly obscene things running through your head just looking at them as your hand finds his jaw to hold.

“I’d cry from how good you are to me if it weren’t for the fact I’m unbelievably worked up right now.”

Slowly do your arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him closer where a smile tugs at your lips, watching his own lips part in a shaky exhale, pupils dilating tenfold as your words sink in.

And it’s Chris’ turn in reminding himself how the pregnancy came to be.

“So let’s do something about it, hm?”

The press of his nose into your neck causes your lashes to flutter, cursing the streaks of sunlight peering through the blinds muddling already bleary vision. A warm grip beckons you closer snuggled against his bare chest, hands instinctively coming to soothe over your belly.

Habitual touch, comfort.

A dream, last night had been. As for now, you bathe in the afterglow, his scent enveloping you like an embrace you can’t bring yourself to pull away from.

“Think I’ll be a good dad?”

And then comes the quiet conversation. Soft and nearly inaudible, his breath tickling your shoulder.

“I know you will,” Comes your own reply, muffled against the pillow, a kiss pressing to your shoulder in appreciation.

“I just-“

He takes a breath, weighing the thought. 

It’s a coarse silence, one you know not to interrupt. He considers his words like this, a characteristic you’ve come to adore over the years. The blinking fast, the hesitant humming.

“You know how much I look up to my Dad, and I worry I just- I won’t live up to tha—“

Now it’s your turn to step in, before he goes over his head and blames himself again and again for a matter never his responsibility. The selfless one, who you remind must take care of himself too. 

Amid simple kisses or compliments scribbled on sticky notes, you find love between the lines.

“Chris. Chris, baby, listen to me. This baby loves you, I hope you know that. And I hope you know that I love you, and whatever happens next happens next.”

Inhaling slowly, you roll over to face your husband.

Covers drawn up to see only his eyes, it’s near foolish the smile you let on.

“You said it yourself, we’re in this together, okay? If we change, we change together. We move? We move together.”

His fervent nod, dearest eyes gleaming all watery make your heart clench.

“This is our first time being parents, you can’t expect to be perfect, yeah? All we can do is try,”

Careful hands come to cup his face, kissing his lips through the fabric of the bedsheets.

“And you’re trying so hard, so thank you. I don’t feel like I praise you enough for all that you do for me, hm?”

He’s quiet before soft, heart wrenching sniffles are heard, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and grumbling to himself like a toddler.

“I feel like.. such an idiot.. crying when you’re the one carrying the baby.. hic.. Plus ‘s my.. my job to take care of you, yeah? ‘M your husband..”

Gently smoothing along his waterline in hushed reassurance does the man pull himself upward, slow to climb atop your form, littering your face in feverish pecks you can’t help but laugh at while the heels of your palms gently push at his jaw in playful aversion.

“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” He noses at your chin, the only sound between the both of you slow breaths and the occasional sniffle, the heat of his skin burning through you like wildfire. 

Chris has become a warm blanket for your cold winter, even more so during the pregnancy.

“And you are going to eat eggs.”

In which earns your groan, regarding the food scornfully for its rude manner of sparking nausea. Of the many things nauseating you these days. Volatile in manner.

“‘S good for the baby. ‘Just a bite.”

Another groan, swatting lightly at his shoulder in retaliation.

Prior to an ingenious idea breaching the forefront of your mind.

A tiny detail you’d been holding in, with your lack of fondness for an extravagant baby shower or a gender reveal, you’d planned a morning-in to be the perfect timing for an announcement.

Now coming to be this morning.

Because while Chris had been running to the car, you’d been in the thick of a sonogram all those weeks back, a dirty little secret having been told that the nurse swore to keep quiet.

“Chris.”

Eyebrows lifting in gentle curiosity, you want to hate the way your mischievous streak is melting, the stubbornness fading into your own glossy eyes and trembling lips, and a whole rush of distress and concern washes overtop the man above you like a bucket of ice cold water.

“It’s a girl.”

A sharp gasp, a choked sniffle.

“We’re having a baby girl.”

To say Chris cried like a baby for an additional time that morning would be a mass understatement.

Cried and cried and cried endlessly, before calling his parents first and crying more, then Hannah, then the guys.

Face all puffy and happy, you spent your day waltzing around the kitchen to the low buzz of the radio seated upon the far corner of your counter, sharing kisses he can’t seem to get enough of and too much smiling it made your cheeks ache.

.

.

.

Currently thirty-six weeks and perilously close to the awaited due date, the faint clatter in your periphery earns a startled huff of air, once-napping eyes flickering open, lids heavy from past slumbering.

A common occurrence, the constant sleeping, fatigue overboard. Although morning sickness has graciously subsided, the sleepiness is endless in her torrents.

As for now, each slow lull of the rocking chair the guys had assembled a few minutes prior continues her magic in beckoning you sleepy and sleepier.

“Shh dumbass— you’re gonna wake her up!”

And… beckons whisper-screaming from the group who had insisted upon helping set up the nursery. 

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Han and Felix’s grumbled argument is returned with a scolding “Shh!” from Seungmin, inducing yet another—however brisk—silence, the faint hint of a chortle from your husband falling upon near deafened ears while drifting in and out of consciousness.

Nonetheless, the group continues to build, having now moved onto assembling furniture after the room’s paint had been finished. A mellow pink, not too muted nor saturated, highlighted when the room grows aglow with drifting rays of sunlight.

Hitched just to the right of the window, the crib’s being assembled, Changbin arduously working to follow directions, Minho taking a break on one of the couch cushions with a popsicle lodged between his lips.

Surprising, considering the slow shift in temperature. Autumn makes its entrance, summer waving a goodbye hand in the now-shorter days and a subtle breeze detected in early mornings. 

A September baby, it seems.

“Corner guards? Do we have corner guards?”

An ever organized (and rather caffeine-frenzied) Hyunjin reviews the list once more, having spent his night prior holed up in the studio for recording, obstinate in participating in the nursery despite the ushers to get some sleep instead.

“I have to be here, it’s my duty as an Uncle”, were his exact words, haughtily prancing about as if some entitled interior designer.

And yet he brought alive an enthusiasm like no other. So the guys let him stay without dragging him back home.

In the distance, a low strum of a guitar echoes, Seungmin’s soulful cadence recognizable amidst any crowd.

A lullaby for the baby, but you had yet to know of that just yet.

“Alright… curtains.. ‘gotcha…” Felix mumbles after taking a break from the crib-squabble between Han, his brows furrowed in concentration where Jeongin aids in lifting the canopy portion planning to hang above the crib, Chris organizing the small things. 

A baby mobile with stars and little planets, a crescent moon rug.

And a tiny feature you take note of while awakening more and more, the little stars painted on the ceiling, like this miniature galaxy. 

It’s so…Chris.

It’s perfect.

The thought makes your lips tug upward, a certain fondness blossoming there.

His world, he’d called the baby.

Fitting, isn’t it?

One week to the due date with the autumn equinox around the corner, your days slip together in a melody of fluffy jackets and fuzzy socks, warm cider Chris ushers instead of coffee—“for the baby”, he says, but begrudgingly fixes you a menial cup after the cocked brow you fix him with. 

A baby-bag is packed up for the awaited day of your delivery, and this journey of yours drawing to a close leads to an even more frazzled husband of yours.

Constantly peeking in on you, his lips parted without a question needing to be asked until the bathroom door is slammed in his face after peering in worriedly for a fourth time, earning a squeaky: “sorry!” in reply.

You love him, yes, but not enough to allow a spectator during your bowel movements.

The gesture is appreciated, trust.

Nevertheless, with a now-evident waddle you despise that Chris utterly fawns over, you head to the downtown bakery, motivated by your relentless craving for a cinnamon roll and the feeble determination in battling the dropping temperatures, Seoul’s seasonal shifts as intermittent as your mood swings.

“Two?” You mumble, index extended to the steaming cinnamon rolls in thought, currently using the coat-clad Chris behind you as support, his warm hands steadying your hips, gentle thumbs tracing circles along your sides over his jacket you’d donned.

Nodding into your hair, the man weighs his chin atop your head, granting the kind older woman working the register a small smile, her eyes flickering to the prominent bump fondly prior to fetching the highly-anticipated cinnamon rolls and inquiring how many weeks you were.

“Thirty-nine weeks,” Came the reply, giggling like children on the way home, cheeks flushed pink from bitter winds, sniffling in with each bite of the napkin-held pastry.

“Yah! I should’ve said I wasn’t pregnant and acted all offended, shoot!”

The words followed by a feigned tantrum, Chris has to hold in his laughter, snorting futilely.

“You’re cruel, y’know that?” Scoffing his exasperation does your husband continue to crack even crueler jokes than that of yours on the walk home, acting as an anchor to your aching bones and tirelessly pained back until the sink of the couch cushions beneath your frame serve as the perfect solace.

It’d been the blueprint for an ideal night in. Cinnamon roll long-since digested, a to-die-for massage provided by your husband, and the expectation of doing purely nothing for the remainder of your night.

Until the blueprint went awry upon brushing your teeth.

Curse that damn toothbrush.

Kidding.

“Channie.”

Between Chris, Channie, and terms of endearment, your husband could be an ex-convict with so many names.

Yet he responds to every and all, and at this very moment you’re more grateful than ever for that.

This time, his peeking-in is greatly appreciated.

“I either peed myself or my water just broke.”

It was meant to hopefully lighten the atmosphere, but your efforts prove feeble watching the color drain from his face, white as a sheet.

And just like that, the journey came to its close, in a finale neither of you were expecting, but one your husband confronted head on, trying his hardest in keeping both himself and you calm while loading up all the prepared things.

Baby bag, your printed out birth-plan discussed all those weeks ago while sharing a bath, extra clothes, nursing bras, all the required cards, and a billion other things Chris doesn’t even bother to search for in helping you into the car, reminding himself he could ask someone else to drop by or pick it up after.

Right now, you would remain his sole focus.

That, and the little one who’s decided to make her grand entrance a week from his birthday.

An early present, it seems.

Everything’s too fast, too hurried. The beeping of machinery, hurrying nurses in their scrubs, the nauseating scent of antiseptic overwhelming the hospital. 

You and the baby, you and the baby, you and the baby.

Those four words run rampant in his mind, like some sadistic form of tunnel vision.

Luckily swift in their efforts, you’d been wheeled off to the nicest room available, your husband blind to the price of anything at the moment where he follows you back, guiding each sharp gasp while you work through hellish contractions, squeezing his hand like a vice he vows to never let go of.

Though initially as smooth as a delivery could go, the process is seemingly endless, and Chris curses the exhaustion wracking his frame after the eighth hour stretches on, menial complications requiring moments longer to the already strain-inducing process. 

And of course, to the words he’d never heard you utter before.

“You FUCKER!”

In which earns your jittery-husbands wobbly smile, smoothing strands of hair where they stick to a sweaty forehead, whispering praises on autopilot.

At this rate, he can’t even tell who you’re referring to, but that thought lies in the very back of his mind.

“When I- shit- get out of here I expect to be- FUCK!— worshiped- ‘cause this hurts like a bitch!”

This earns the midwives equally exhausted smiles, working tirelessly with each push. 

By the ninth hour, you shakily assure him to go get a drink, take a walk, a matter he curses beneath his breath yet follows through with no less, legs like jelly, hand aching from your crushing-hold where your husband slumps into the chair opposite to the vending machine, caught in a weary daze. 

Then a hand finds itself on his shoulder he has to stave back the reflex to flinch from, and an out-of-breath Minho stands there—unfamiliar in the utter seriousness of his expression, the lack of teasing usually exhibited—alternatively familiar faces of his friends jogging after the second eldest. 

His first surprise of the night.

Of two, but the second surprise had yet to occur.

“We took the closest taxi,” Jisung manages, out of breath. “You.. You said there was complicat-“

Like a deer in headlights, the shrill wail of a baby rings out, gathering his full attention in split seconds. 

And somehow, he knows that’s his.

Yours, together.

Chris’s second surprise.

His heart stops.

In all his life, Christopher Bahng doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty.

With seven curious faces peeping in from the doorway behind him, he takes slow steps in approaching you, ethereal with your breathlessly proud smile and the tiny, swaddled thing to your frame, comfy and cozy in their mother’s scent.

Pink blankets. 

And although he already knew it was a girl, the way he chokes up without a word being spoken earns both yours and the nurse’s laughter, tainting his ears a reddened shade of embarrassment.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmurs, wiping tenderly at tear streaks littering those darling cheeks of yours. “So, so proud.”

An angel, he swears, pressing a long, slow kiss to your lips, then a small peck to your forehead. It appears the wailing fit had subsided, and as for now, this precious little one curls up to your chest.

His baby.

A sob wracks his chest, and in the distance a giggle (likely Minho) is faintly audible that Chris doesn’t even bother scolding, each and every feeling imaginable snuffed to nothing when those eyes pinch open.

Chocolate brown, just like her daddy’s. That perfect, so, so perfect honeyed hue.

Precious.

“She’s.. hic.. so beautiful..”

It’s downright pitiful the manner he cries, like a child, trembling hands reaching for her after your whispered assent, assurance, cradling the baby to his chest.

And remarkably enough, she smiles.

This gummy, delighted smile.

Right then and there, the gravity of the moment punctures his chest, and a silent vow is made that with everything in his being, he will protect her. His daughter.

“Your Daddy loves you.”

Barely heard yet understood all the same, an oh so careful kiss is pressed to those unruly curls, unbelievable in their resemblance to her father’s.

A splitting image, with your charming nose and his puffy lips.

You were right. That time at the grocery store.

Oh to adore.

His second world, who he’ll clap for all cheerfully upon her first steps, her first words, all of it. Through the good and the bad times and everything in between.

His second world, with a father who already loves her, unconditionally. 

And who knows he will for the rest of his life.

Ensuring you’re cared for those four days before discharge, Chris spends his time easing you through each painful endeavor, helping you through the saddened and elated moments, those private moments where all you wish for is to be held.

He holds you, for as long as you need.

Despite the challenges and hardships to come, the man can’t help but think of just how beautiful you are. With your stretch marks, the baby weight, the things you hate, the things he loves. Reflecting how hard you worked, bringing this precious baby girl into the world.

It’s impossible for you to be anything but breathtaking.

His wife, he mumbles into your hair, a habit of his, whilst swaying you from side to side in slow rhythm, the little one fast asleep in her bassinet.

The first night home with the baby, Minho’s already taken to the kitchen, preparing dinner regardless of your sleepy beckoning for him to head home where you stand by the doorway, awakened by the unusual silence where your little girl’s normal squeals would be ricocheting off the walls. 

It seems the Uncles are already smitten.

Fuzzy sock-clad feet thump to your next destination: the nursery.

And there lies your greatest loves, with Chris’s steps weighing side to side just as he’d always do when dancing with you, a bottle in hand held to her lips where she sleepily suckles, a smile of adoration tugging at his lips opposing the circles beneath his eyes.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so enamored before.

And just as that evening in building the nursery, Seungmin’s quietly composed lullaby drifts from the speaker on the changing table, its lyrics like that of the sweetest hymn.

‘My little girl, will you ever know how much I love you?’

‘As much as the stars in the sky, and the grains of sand on the beach.’

‘You are my universe, and I shall love you.’

‘Love, love, love.’

‘For eternity longer.’

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @manuosorioh @captainchrisstan @bowsnbang @sh1ny4lex @alisonyus @certifiedchangbinlover

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Dad!skz texts overload🥰🤍

Definitely been in a dad!skz brainrot lately so why no just give in a little more🙃 also you guys seem to like dad!han and dad!leeknow imagines a lot which makes me extremely happy I am so soft for them💖

ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE 1200K+ OF YOU READING ME ON HERE?? 😭😭

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[aeliuss]

Not Rain nor Snow

Pairing: Seungmin x afab!reader

Genre: Angst (like seriously, ANGST)

Synopsis: when you moved to s.korea you didn't expect to fall in love. but fall in love you did, and you fell hard. but sometimes love isn't enough of a reason to stay.

Warnings: slight mentions of depression, mentions of pet death, break up

Notes: back with more angst lol. this was supposed to be short but then it spiraled into over 3k words. for some reason i feel like seungmin would be one of the first of the boys to fall in love, even though he's a menace. anyway, hope you enjoy! feedback is always appreciated :) also, let me know if you guys want a part 2!

(also the title is inspired by that one quote that goes, "People are not rain or snow or autumn leave. They do no look pretty when they fall down.)

When you were nineteen you fell in love with a boy who took his coffee black.

Stolen glances and flustered, sheepish grins turned into friendship. He visited the cafe you worked  at regularly. Sometimes everyday. But other times, he would disappear for months, without a trace, without a single text.  The third time this happened, you asked him if he worked for the Mafia.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. He told you he worked as a manager at an entertainment company. That sometimes, he had to go overseas. You were new to South Korea, so you didn't have many friends here, nor did you listen to the music much, so you believed him. And he was a good liar.

He asks you to be his girlfriend a year later at the park, watching the sun set. You were so happy you kissed him on the spot. He didn't kiss you back, so you pulled away, mortified, but he catches your wrist, pulls you against him, kisses you properly. Even though his entire face is flushed like a tomato, up to the tips of his ears. The setting sun bathes him in a golden glow. You think you might love him already.

--

When you were twenty you finally met his friends. Seven other boys who were nice enough but kept giving you odd glances when they thought you wouldn't notice. One of them cringes slightly when you ask if they also work in management. Seungmin swoops in, hand on your waist, changing the subject so smoothly you forget about their reactions completely.

You found it weird of course. The fact that when you asked him who exactly he managed, he waved the topic off, saying something about how he handles paperwork and that that would bore you. The fact that he never wanted to take you out to popular couple spots, and when you ever did go somewhere public, he wore a mask and a cap so low it hid his eyes sometimes. One time, you could've sworn you heard a high schooler call out his name at the amusement park, but before you could turn around, he is guiding you to the churro stand  and you're salivating too much to care.

You let all these things go. Brushed away the creeping doubts in your mind. Nothing else mattered but the fact that he loved you, you reasoned with yourself. He was sassy, and silver tongued, but he was gentle with you. Made sure you ate and slept well when it was exam week. Listened to you rant about the same thing for the nth time and acted like it was the first. Surely, whatever he was hiding couldn't be that bad if he loved you like this?

--

You were still twenty when you finally found out. Finally mingling enough with the other international students at your university to call a few of them 'friends.' One of the girls smiled when she saw your lock screen--a picture of Seungmin at the beach on one of your dates-- and said, "Oh, you're a Stay too!"

Your curiosity morphed into an insatiable need for answers. You delved into the labyrinth of the internet, searching for clues, hints, anything that could illuminate the shadowy corners of Seungmin's life that he had kept concealed from you. And there it was, in bold letters on your screen: "Stray Kids."

Your heart plummeted as you clicked on the link, revealing a world you had been oblivious to—a world of music, of stardom, of screaming fans and flashing cameras. And there, amidst the dazzling array of idols, was Seungmin, his face illuminated by stage lights, his voice like an angel sent from the gods themselves.

You felt like you had been blindsided, as if the ground had been yanked from beneath your feet. How could he have kept such a monumental secret from you? Was everything between you just a facade, a carefully constructed illusion? Was that why he had hesitated to bring you around his friends, why he only did when you practically begged to meet them?

Questions swirled in your mind like a tempest, each one more agonizing than the last. Why hadn't he trusted you enough to confide in you? Had your entire relationship been nothing more than a convenient distraction from his real life, his real identity?

And as you stared at the screen, at the image of Seungmin smiling back at you from behind the glossy veneer of celebrity, you couldn't help but wonder if you ever truly knew the boy who took his coffee black.

__

You were twenty one when you told him of your discovery. It's not that you waited long, rather that your birthday was actually right around the corner and Seungmin claimed that he had gotten the day off to spend it with you. He showed up at your apartment bright and early, carrying a bouquet of flowers--your favorite-- and smiling brightly.

"We could do anything you want," he was saying now, sitting on the edge of the tub as he watched you get ready, blinking the hair out of his eyes distractedly. "There's a place not too far from here that sells your favorite food. Opened recently but the reviews are pretty great."

There's a bubble of something sour in your chest, and you grip your hairbrush tightly at the handle. "I don't know."

He tilts his head in that adorable puppy-like fashion that always had you swooning. "We don't have to, if you don't want to. There's this other place I saw the other day, and it made me think of you--"

"I don't think we should go out at all," You say, and he stops, looking confused.

"Really? That's...that's not like you."

Your nails are digging into your palms when you say, "Yeah. Wouldn't want you to be recognized."

All emotions are wiped clean from his face, and he looks at you carefully. You can feel the weight of his gaze, though you are avoiding his eyes in the mirror.

"Recognized?" He echoes but his voice sounds strained now, knee bouncing slightly.

You don't reply. Don't look at him.

He deflates, shoulders curving inward as he presses his face into his hands. "How long?"

Your heart hammers against your ribs, the air in the room thick with tension. "Long enough," you snap.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like this," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. You can't help the sharp, humorless laugh you make as you turn from the sink to finally face him.

"Yeah? How did you mean for it to happen then?"

He looks up at you then, and you see the pain etched in his features, mingling with guilt. "I was going to tell you, I swear. I just…

“Didn’t” You finish. “You just didn’t.”

You swallow hard, the anger simmering beneath the surface threatening to boil over. "Just leave, Seungmin. I can't deal with this right now." You really don’t want to say the wrong thing, but your anger is so intense you know that if he stays here, you just might.

For a moment, he seems resigned, defeated even, as he nods silently and turns towards the door. But just as he reaches for the handle, he stops abruptly, his shoulders tensing. And then, in a swift motion, he spins back around, his expression fierce, determined.

"Fuck that," he hissed, voice laced with desperation as he strides back towards you. Before you can react, he cages you against the sink, his hands braced on either side of you, effectively trapping you.

"Listen to me," he demands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding. "I know I messed up. I know I should have told you about who I really am, about what I do. But there's so much more to this story than you know."

You glare at him, your frustration palpable. "I don't want to hear your excuses, Seungmin. You lied to me, over and over again. How can I trust anything you say now?"

He flinches at your words, but doesn't back down. "Because I love you," he insists, his voice raw. "And I never wanted to hurt you. But I had to keep this part of my life hidden, to protect you, to protect us."

You scoff, incredulous. "Protect us? From what?"

His grip on the sink tightens, his jaw clenched in frustration. "From the fuck ups of my world," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "From the scrutiny, the pressure, the constant threat of exposure. I wanted to shield you from all of that–"

You shake your head, unable to comprehend his reasoning. "You should have let me decide for myself. You should have trusted me enough to handle the truth."

He hangs his head, defeated. "I know. And I'm sorry. I was selfish, and cowardly, and I hurt you in the process.” He sucks in a breath, bending his head down so that you are eye level. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything. Will you listen?”

You purse your lips. Nod, despite the part of you that wants to remain angry. The larger part of you wants him to tell you. So he does.

He tells you about the pressure of living a double life, of the constant fear of being exposed, of the weight of expectations bearing down on him from all sides. He confesses his fear of losing you, of never being able to bridge the gap between his public persona and his private self.

As he speaks, you can feel the walls around your heart starting to crumble, the layers of hurt and betrayal slowly giving way to understanding. You see the raw honesty in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, and you realize that despite everything, his love for you is real.

You stay in for your twenty-first birthday. In Seungmin’s arms, crying when he tells you how hard it’s been for him, then crying again when he tells you how Stray Kids had saved him from himself. You are a tangle of limbs, of open hearts and whispered confessions. A mess of giggles and groans when you find the edits of him Stay has made. Of soft kisses and softer hands. Of falling into a love in which there is no return.

—-

But all good things must come to an end. You just never thought you would be the one ending it.

You were twenty-two when your phone was stolen and your pictures and texts with Seungmin released to the press. Chan and the management at JYP tried their best to soothe the waters but they refused to be soothed. They raged and raged and raged. And you find that you do not know how to swim. 

The hate on you was hard to swallow, but expected. The people–and you refused to call them Stay because they weren’t–hated on your hair, your skin, your features, your voice, anything they could. They said that you were a whore that seduced their precious Seungmin. A gold digger. A slut. 

You deactivated all your socials, but although you couldn’t  see them anymore, you still heard them. They whispered to you and shook you from your sleep. Every step felt like wading through quicksand, every breath a struggle against suffocating despair. The barrage of hatred and vitriol from faceless strangers on the internet threatened to consume you whole.

Instead of distancing himself, Seungmin practically moved in with you during this time. Took off from promotions to reassure you, to hold you, to love you. He’d sing you to sleep with soft melodies, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered soul. He'd cook for you, clean for you, do anything and everything to ease the burden weighing heavy on your shoulders. It took a few months but you healed. Or you were healing. Until you found out about the hate against him. Found out from a call from Jeongin.

“If you love him, break up with him.”

The blood in your veins stilled. “What?”

You hear him shuffling through the phone line, hear the coldness of his tone. “Break up with Seungmin hyung. Your relationship is hurting him. It’s killing him. Didn’t you notice how he’s changed?” He scoffs. “Of course you didn’t. You're too busy wallowing in your own pity to realize that all you’ve ever done is tear apart everything he’s worked so hard to build.” 

His voice is steel. It is the steel of a freight train that is smacking into your chest, making it hard to breathe. You don’t respond. Can’t. On the other line, Jeongin takes a deep breath, his voice softening.

“Look, I know you’re not a bad person. If things were different, I think you’d be perfect for him. But things aren’t different. And if you love him, you want what’s best for him. Don’t you?”

Do you? Or are you so selfish that you can only think of yourself, and what you need?

You observe Seungmin from afar, through your screen, as he had been forced back on his schedules. There are black circles stretched under his eyes, a furrow etched between his brows where there hadn't been before. He smiles at the camera but it never reaches his eyes. He is always the last to arrive but the first to leave. You wonder how you never noticed before.

You remember the whispered confessions, the tender moments shared in the quiet intimacy of your shared space. You remember the warmth of his embrace, the gentleness of his touch, the way he had poured his heart out to you, laying bare his fears and insecurities. And yet, despite the love that binds you together, you can't shake the nagging doubt that lingers in the recesses of your mind.

You wonder if you're doing more harm than good by clinging to him, by refusing to let go. You wonder if your presence in his life is a source of strength or if it's dragging him further into the depths of despair. You wonder if love, no matter how pure and genuine, is enough to withstand the relentless onslaught of hatred and condemnation.

And as you watch him, as he struggles to navigate the treacherous waters of fame and notoriety, you realize that you can't bear to see him suffer any longer. You can't bear to be the cause of his pain, the reason for his torment. You can't bear to hold him back from the life he was destined to live, the dreams he was meant to chase.

So when he calls you one night, tells you, “I need to see you,” in that weary, desperate voice of his, you agree to see him.

—-

It's a crisp, clear night when you finally meet him, the stars twinkling overhead like distant beacons in the vast expanse of the sky. You find him standing on the street corner, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, his breath misting in the chilly air. He looks different somehow, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders, the burden of his fame etched into the lines of his face. But despite the weariness that clings to him like a second skin, there's a flicker of relief in his eyes as he sees you approaching.

As soon as you are close enough, he reaches for your hand, tugging you closer so that he can rest his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, hand releasing yours in favor of your waist, pulling you closer against him.

You stand there in the quiet embrace, the weight of his words sinking in as you wrap your arms around him, holding him close. There's a bittersweet ache in your chest as you realize that this might be the last time you'll hold him like this, the last time you'll feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

"I missed you too," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air.

He pulls back, concern etched into the way he frowns. This side of Seungmin is one that not everyone gets to see. But he doesn’t try to hide it from you. Never has. Instead, he cups your cheek, tilting your face upward so he can get a better look at you. “Are you tired? Sorry, I know it’s late but it was the only time I could get away. You look tired.”

You manage a weak smile. “I’m okay. Just…Just thinking.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any hint of what's going on in your mind. "You seem distant," he observes softly, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

Your hand encircles his wrist, pulling him away from your face. You don’t deserve the comfort his touch brings. You don’t.

He catches your fingers. “You’re cold.”

“Seungmin.”

“You should’ve brought a jacket.” He’s unraveling the scarf around his neck. You notice the slight tremble in his fingers. “Why didn’t you bring a jacket? I always tell you–”

“Seungmin.”

“I always tell you to being a jacket but you never listen–”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

He flinches, and the scarf slips from his fingers, pooling at his feet. Takes a shaky breath and bends down to retrieve it. When he speaks, he gives no indication that he even heard what you said. 

“If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll get sick, y/n.” He says, wrapping the scarf around your neck. He adjusts the scarf around your neck, his movements methodical, almost mechanical.

“Seungmin, please listen to me–”

“No,” He snaps, breathing harshly, his breath fogging up in the winter air. His knuckles are white as he ties the scarf firmly around your neck. “I won’t let you do this.”

You shake your head, pushing his hands away. “It’s already done.”

“Why?” His voice is strained. “I thought we were…I thought…” He lets loose a sound of frustration, unable to voice his thoughts. “Why are you doing this?”

Your heart strains against the ribs that cage them in, and your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and you can’t believe you are about to utter the lies you are thinking. But you do anyway.

“Because I can’t be with you anymore.” You choke out. “I can’t take it anymore, Min. Your fans are batshit crazy and–”

“And I can protect you,” He protests. “I can shield you away from all  that, I swear–”

“Well you’ve been doing a shit job at it,” The way he flinches makes you force down a sob. Force yourself to continue speaking. “It’s just not enough. This love…you are not enough for me.”

You unwrap the scarf from around your neck, thrusting it back into his hands, as he stands there, silent. ‘This is for the best, it’s for the best, I’m doing this for him–’

“But I love you,” 

You realize you’ve never heard his voice crack before. Not in the way it does now, when he speaks, and you somehow know there are tears in his eyes so you don’t look. You can’t bear to look.

“I love you, y/n, did you hear me? I need you.”

And suddenly you’re remembering that time you were ten years old and cradling your old dog’s head against your chest. He is looking up at you with eyes that plead to be saved, to be healed, but the vet says it’s time for you to let go now. “But Mama, he needs me,” You had cried, and your mother, with infinite patience, had pried your little hands away from the center of your world and said, “He needs you to let him go now.”

He needs you to let him go now. 

—---

Seungmin watches as you turn on your heel and walk away. Watches as he clutches the scarf in his hands and then somehow he’s back at the dorm and someone is asking him if he’s alright and there are needles pricking into his hands as he presses his nails into the palms of them

You’ll be back. You’ll come back to him.

His ears ring as he slams his way into his room and the questions follow him into the room, but Seungmin blocks it out with the pillow he shoves over her head. Everything is too much, and not even the pillow can’t muffle the cries in his head, the glass breaking in his heart. He grits his teeth, thinks about how he ruined everything. He ruined it. 

Why? Why was he so weak? Why was everything around him dull and boring and shattered? 

The blanket is too hot even in this winter cold when he pulls it over him, but he allows the suffocating feeling of it to ease the tension in his body. His eyes are damp, and he chokes on a sob in the pillow. 

You don't come. 

So, he remains in the room and picks up the pieces of his broken self, thinks about dancing with you, of your eyes. Thinks of a cafe, of black coffee that he never even liked but learned to after you got his order wrong.

His mind wanders through the fog of it, and Seungmin falls into the mattress, sinks into the worn springs of it, and doesn't move. Not for a long time. 

(You don't come.) 

[hyunesent]

Hyunjin who’s so turned on by his own jealousy that when he finds out one of his members has some unresolved feelings towards you he invites them over to fuck you; and whole time he’s just provoking the two of you:

“You’ve wanted this for so long mmh? Make sure you fuck her right. She likes when you do that.”

“Is he a better fuck than me my love? You like his dick more than mine?”

His hands never leave his cock as he watches the two of you, the strain in his voice becoming more prominent as he fights his own climax.

But what turns him on the most is seeing the state of pleasure you’re in. Despite how good the orgasms he gives you are. How you passionately intertwine your lips with someone else’s and how tender you are with the man that fucked you into oblivion as he comes down off his high. Hyunjin knows no can replace him and that you’ll always be his so how could he say no to sharing a gem like you?

He’ll have to fuck you 10x better right after to give you a friendly reminder though.

[call-of-daydreams]

🐺⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆🐺

𝓒𝔀: 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓪 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴, 𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯-𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 838

𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮: 3 𝓶𝓲𝓷 17 𝓼𝓮𝓬

🐺⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆🐺

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺

Soft music playing in the background filled the room as Bangchan sat on his couch, his girlfriend Y/N snuggled up against his side. She had her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed as she basked in the warmth of his embrace. Bangchan's arm was wrapped around her, his hand gently running through her hair.

"I could stay like this forever," Y/N whispered, her voice laced with contentment.

Bangchan chuckled and tightened his hold on her. "Me too," he agreed. "Nothing beats having you close to me like this."

"Did you know that today is National Boyfriend Day? And today is also your birthday."

Bangchan looked down at Y/N, surprise and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Is it really?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I had no idea. I guess I have a lot to celebrate today, huh?"

Y/N nodded a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "You sure do," she said, her tone teasing. "You've got me, the best girlfriend in the world, and it's your birthday. What more could you ask for?"

Bangchan laughed and ruffled her hair affectionately. "When you put it like that, I'm pretty lucky," he agreed. "But you know what could make today even better?"

"You taking today to completely relax and let the boys practice without you?"

Bangchan chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully. "Nice try," he said, giving Y/N a light pinch on her arm. "But you know I can't do that. I have to make sure the boys are practicing properly and staying on task."

"Lee Know's there, he'll make sure everyone does the dance right. You know how he is when it comes to practicing."

Bangchan thought for a moment, then relented. "You have a point," he admitted. "Lee Know can be pretty strict when it comes to practice. But even so, I still feel like I should be there to help out."

"Text Minho with what they need to practice today and have him record what they do and send it to you if you're that worried but I'm not letting you leave the house today."

Bangchan considered her words for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay, you win," he said with a smile. "I'll text Minho and let him know what I think the boys should focus on for practice today. And I promise not to leave the house."

Y/N beamed at him, triumph and joy filling her eyes. "I knew you'd see it my way," she said, snuggling closer to him.

Bangchan laughed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. "You always know how to persuade me," he said, his voice warm with affection. "But you know what this means, right?"

"What does it mean?" Y/N asked, looking up at him with a coy smile.

Bangchan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It means I'm all yours for the day," he said, his eyes sparkling. "You've got me all to yourself."

"Good, because we're doing a self-care day. You need it and Stay will be happy you're taking a break."

Bangchan chuckled and ran his hand through her hair. "A self-care day, huh?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I can't say I'm against the idea, especially if it means spending the whole day with you."

"And here I thought that you said you can't flirt"

Bangchan laughed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Hey, I never said I couldn't flirt," he protested. "I just said I was bad at it. There's a difference."

"Your V-Live says differently"

Bangchan huffed but then broke into another laugh. "Okay, fine," he conceded, "Maybe I am not as terrible at flirting as I thought. But you've always been good at bringing out my flirty side."

Y/N grinned at him, pleased with herself. "Of course I am," she said, her voice full of confidence. "I know how to press all the right buttons with you."

Bangchan watched as Y/n got up and began gathering various skincare products. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her flit around the room, grabbing lotion, sheet masks, and makeup removal wipes.

"Looks like you're all set for our self-care day," he said, his voice filled with gentle humor. "You have enough skincare products there to last a month."

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder. "Hey, if we're doing a self-care day, we might as well do it right," she said. "And that means taking full advantage of all the beauty products and indulging ourselves. So just settle back and let me pamper you."

Bangchan chuckled and leaned back against the couch cushions, his expression a mix of amused resignation and eagerness. "As you wish," he said, a hint of a smirk playing around his lips. "I am at your mercy."

"Will you let me put a lip plumper on you then?"

“Wha- NO! I don’t want to look like a pufferfish.”