#straykids x y/n

[sunboki]

⎯ COUNTDOWN TO LOVE. a Christopher Bahng fiction

🎁 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. countdown to christmas, best friends to lovers! au, pining, non-idol! au, comfort, worry of unrequited feelings, slight angst, fluff, cuteness overload

WORD COUNT. 6.5k ☆ 34 minute read

WARNINGS. swearing(??), mentions of a dick(?), insecurity, usage of terms of endearment, mentions of inferiority, mention of vomit, reader is said to wear makeup on an occasion

AUG'S NOTES. this was a very soft and sweet opposition to Christmas Blues last year which, notably, was remarkably “blue” in nature. in the midst of writing i found myself worried this new approach to lighter, best-friend-to-lovers feelings would be too plain—but i had to remind myself this isn’t enemies to lovers, nor is it nearly as angsty as Christmas Blues!! though i hope their feelings can be both established and understood well, so thank you for sticking with me this far :) i hope this fuzzy piece keeps your heart warm during this cold winter<3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. It had always been natural between you and Chris. Knowing someone for almost ten years comes with that. And yet, when he confesses that he doesn’t want to keep up this cycle but pursue you one winter, you’re hesitant in thinking it will work out. Then again, you’ve never been one to deny him.

or alternatively :

Five days till Christmas, five dates to see if you feel the same.

December 20th.

“Move your arm.”

Sunday morning sunlight streams through barely cracked blinds, making your brows crinkle at the onslaught of brightness in distaste. That, along with occupying a mattress with none other than Chris Bahng.

A weekly occurrence at this rate, if not daily. And no, whatever earlier assumption about you two sharing a bed is wrong.

Totally.

Oh, he’s also pitiful to boot, evident with the loud whine heard in response as he rolls over—messy curls unruly upon just awakening. 

And.. somehow beautiful, with those big brown eyes and lips the color of burnt russet parting with a highly exaggerated yawn.

But pitiful most of all. 

“‘S warm—“ Chris groans out, inch-worming his way to wrap big arms around your form, beckoning you snuggled against his back with a content sigh.

“Too warm,” You scowl, squirming about in his grasp, disagreeable sorts of sounds leaving tight lips. Chris simply giggles.

“Say,” He begins, weighing his chin upon your shoulder, fingertips slipping beneath your shirt to feel your skin, tracing the lines of your abdomen, rising to rest on your belly. 

A surprising lover of skin-to-skin, he is.

“What if we became something more?”

When you know someone long enough, an established sense of normalcy alternative to everybody else appears, whether that’s the plentiful times you’d heard Chris squeal like a girl after walking in on him in his boxers, or the not-so pretty nights out where he’d hold back your hair while you threw up in the bathroom a bar whose name you can’t recall.

But then again, it’s always been just that.

Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t demand anything from you, didn't judge you. Listening with an attentive ear those days you would cry on the phone, and bring you a donut before morning classes after passing an exam.

The small things.

So it makes you wonder when you started seeing him differently. And if he felt that same way too.

A slow progression of love, like a river in its path of eroding canyons over thousands of years. Familiar, comforting. Done without a second thought like muscle memory. His fingers curling against yours in busied atmospheres, the look you both give each other when a certain song comes on.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

With your face peering over his monitor, wide eyes he adores peek at him from an upside down angle. 

Cute, he thinks, tapping your nose with a chilled index.

Chris always keeps it cold in his apartment, partially because he remembers you’d told him you sleep better that way, partially because he loves to hear you complain about it in the morning.

As for the big question popped earlier today, he chooses to wait patiently per your request (after staring at him like he’d grown an extra pair of eyes then proceeding to smack his arm before realizing he was serious).

So, yes, you’re thinking.

And it scares Chris more than he’d like to admit. 

He knows the risks, the “let’s try this” somehow turning into an ugly breakup and never speaking again.

And he can’t afford that when it comes to you, because you’ve become the most important person in his life without even noticing it.

Even if his love is one sided. Unrequited. 

He’d be okay as long as he has you.

Just the thought makes him anxious, makes the clicking of his mouse arranging the tempo to become erratic in pace, head-dizzying.

“Chris?”

Until your voice finds him, and the torrential waves of his ocean go back to their slow lapsing. Calming the waters as always, trademark to you.

“New track,” He offers, eyes flickering up to you with a meek smile emphasizing the charming dimples there.

Majoring in music comes with both perks and downfalls: hours spent studying and cramming terms down his throat whilst managing personal projects, and, of course, the fleeting satisfaction after passing an exam by a stroke of luck.

But he loves every moment of it, especially having you listen to some of his favorite productions. Some he’ll strum on a guitar amidst his arranged apartment shared with Changbin and Han—roommates you’d grown quite acquainted with—in the late evening, his heart likely beating out of his chest watching your sweet face nod along.

At the moment it’s him here alone, Han having already relocated back home for the holidays, Changbin at his part time job, working lighting and electrical work at a live-house.

“Can I listen?” 

Slow to nod, he beckons you closer with a wave of his hand, carefully placing headphones overtop your ears.

And yet, as your head bobs and face wrinkles up just like he does when hearing something catchy, he can’t help the grin on his face watching you.

You’re beautiful, and he’s too fond it might just be unhealthy.

It’s too easy to fall in love with you.

He has a feeling he’ll be thinking that a lot.

December 21st.

Enough. 

If there was an early New Year’s resolution, gaining a lack of hesitation would have to be on the top of the list.

Of course, that would ensue plenty of compromising situations if you did things impulsively considering the amount of times you’d wanted to kiss him, but, for the most part, it would work in a sensible manner.

“Five dates.” 

Last night you slept over (similar to most nights), clad in one of Chris’s old t-shirts and a pair of suspiciously clean basketball shorts for the gym-addicted man in question, Changbin, to offer you.

By the stove, Chris occupies himself with cooking eggs, lips puffed in a way downright dangerous to your “no hesitation” resolution and lack of t-shirt displaying a broad, muscled back adding to the list. 

Your tongue pokes against your cheek, arms crossed over your chest.

”Five dates.. mhm.. gotcha…” Each nod from the man assures you that, no, he doesn’t “gotcha”; his attention long since drawn to what lies in a sizzling pan and the low hum of “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz rumbling from the small radio on the corner of the kitchen island.

“Chris,” You grunt, brows lifting, resisting the urge to laugh when he glances over his shoulder with that sheepish expression, all-telling.

Or maybe that comes with the years. Unspoken gestures understood without fail.

”Sorry ‘bout that,” He murmurs, and you curse every aspect of your vision being a spectator to his trapezius rippling while dishing down two mugs from the cabinet. One that you bought him, the other purchased by Han.

The latter patterned with.. odd shaped bananas he’s sworn are not the shape of a dick.

But that’s a story for another time. 

Although, that’s the least of the oddities. Between the Danny Devito cheeto ornament(how they got their hands on it you couldn’t guess) added to their tiny Christmas tree and the rug in the bathroom with old stains no one talks about, you’ve decided to turn a blind eye for the sake of learning things you don’t want to remember. 

“What do you think if.. y’know, before we try something new,”

You pause, scorning the sly smile on his face when turning to face you, long fingers quelling the stove’s flame momentarily.

He thinks you’re the most darling thing he’s laid eyes on, and you think he’s going to laugh at you.

”We go on five dates. And after those five dates, I’ll make up my mind.”

”Is this a part of your “thinking”?”

Jerk. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

Gnawing at your bottom lip, your face pinches.

“Yes.” The words are quiet, too hushed for your liking.

Chris doesn’t make you quiet, he doesn’t make you shy. Yet, these days you find yourself falling back into a cycle of nervous, foreign feelings when speaking. As if he’s picking you apart piece for piece.

As if he hasn’t already read every page of the book named you over and over again.

But now the pages rewrite themselves, too many filled with the word “love” and “affection” and “more than friends” and—

“Can I kiss you after those dates?”

Jerk. For the second time.

”And if I say no?”

He lights a fire under your feet. Maybe it’s the heat causing blood to rush to your ears.

Chris lifts his mug. ”Indirect?”

You scoff, he giggles, squeaky in pitch just as it’s always been. Your cheeks warm.

Because in the midst of a once-normalcy, you can feel a storm brewing. It’s unclear if it’ll be a hurricane or a refreshing rain shower, and perhaps the unpredictably is supposed to be thrilling.

Or maybe it’s doomed, and the debris left after that hurricane will lay untouched, uncared for.

So it’s the feeling of his arms wrapping around you beckoning those thoughts out of reach, holding the doubt just high enough you don’t have to see.

Hear, listen, overthink. For now, all there is to fret about is Chris, and the warmth of his hug, pulling you infinitely close against heated skin.

Then does it register to you he’s always read your pages the same, and he would for as long as you’ll give him time to reread. If they change, they change together.

How foolish you forgot such a thing. As if he wasn’t your best friend first.

“Yes, you can.”

When those five dates are over, kiss me.

His nose buried into your shoulder, he murmurs a quiet “thank you”, a satisfied hum resounding from his chest, eyes crinkling up in the corners with a smile.

“Is that my shampoo?”

If anything, you feel as if you’ve been having dates over the years you’ve known Chris as he lists out ideas from a website on his phone. Except, yours weren’t touchy feel-y and certainly not regarded as “dates”, but simple things.

Dinners, falling asleep on his shoulder (something he remembers very well), baking together.

It’s a cold day, and after his hug that squeezed every fiber of sanity from your being, you now resorted to trying to figure out what that first date should consist of. 

The first of the five, pending.

“Ah,” Lips parting to exhale, you peer from the nearest window, watching hot breath fog up the glass whilst gazing out at vastly falling slow blanketing the ground a winter wonderland. A white abyss from your viewpoint.

“It’s snowing.” 

A chaste pause ensues.

“Might as well go out ‘n enjoy it, hm?” His voice, paired with a grin saturated in too much mischief for your liking resounds from over your shoulder.

Unable to react fast enough, Chris, sneaking up behind you without your knowledge, hoists you over his shoulder in seconds time—now (unfortunately) adorning a hoodie over his once bare torso.

Your shocked shriek rings about the apartment in reply.

“Out of the way! We’re goin’ outside!” Chris giggles victoriously, shouting to no one in particular as your fists beat at his back upon making for the door.

The faintest gust of frigid wind has goosebumps slithering up your skin—granting the man a cacophony of “No! Let me down!”’s he seems to soak up like praise.

Well, before relenting.

Because then again, who was he to deny you? To some degree it felt like every bone in his bone dragged him close to you, trailing after your footsteps like a lost puppy.

“One of these days,” Sighing heavily like that of an old man, a firm hand pats your thigh before you’re reluctantly flopped onto the couch, glaring up at him in a manner he deems too pretty to keep from smiling at. 

That same hand comes to hold your face, smushing up your cheeks and, in turn, earning plentiful laughter you simply huff towards. 

“Don’t pout—“ He whines, your heart rate spiking when another hand comes down towards your hair.

If there was any restraint of yours left, it would be relinquished instantly if he so much as touched your hair—

He flicks your forehead. And proceeds to slump down beside you.

“Oh you prick-“

His hand reaches to gently cover your mouth, bringing an index to rest on plush lips of his own. 

“No pouting, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Oh he’s going to get it. 

Playing you like a fiddle.

And damn does he do it well. 

.

.

.

Head tipping, your eyes flicker over his features—silently admiring such a side profile. With the perfect curve of his lips and hook of his nose, he could rival sculptures found in museums.

This was after trying to tackle him (to no avail, sadly) and curse his very existence (another fail). 

Then, the mediator came by in the form of a movie night and the small sheet of chocolate chip cookies warming in the oven, scent steaming the air with a mouthwatering aroma. 

Your first of five, initiated.

“Mm.. Don’t we have movie nights normally though?” The remark offered quietly, you shift closer to his body, pressing your right side to his, knees tucked beneath a blanket he’d arranged across either of your laps.

Love Actually plays on the screen ahead, but your focus couldn’t be deviating more.

Ever the attentive soul, Chris is equal in the shared admiration, honeyed irises fixed upon you in his peripheral prior to a careful finger lifting, looping a strand of hair behind your ear.

In turn, his gentle palm cups your jaw to tilt your head, sweeping an additionally stubborn hair from the other side of your face as well.

Your heart feels moments from bursting, and he looks at you as if you’re his whole world.

You are, but that was a matter unnoticed on your end.

It’s a quiet debate. Dangerous and fickle. Move too quickly and something might go wrong, hesitate and an opportunity may vanish to never be seen again. Do you kiss him? Is that how it works? Or is this a matter of “kissing on the first date”, treated like a taboo? 

More so, what happens next? After the kiss?

His eyes flicker upward to yours, lacking that boy-ish, charming smile he usually dons. Instead, he’s serious, calm. Then to your lips, like the melody of a slow song, flickering with the dips and pitches of the rhythm.

Leaning in, you can’t help but comply, and every thought within your mind numbs into nothingness—

Beeep!

A sharp, acrid stench makes your nose burn, face transforming into both realization and panic upon witnessing the tendrils of smoke curling from the oven.

“Shit!”

And after frantically racing to salvage what little remained of the cookies while Chris furiously fanned the smoke detector, your “date night” turned into a shared glance, laughter, and the both of you trudging to his bed for the night, leaving the remaining bit of Love Actually for another day.

So no, rest assured you didn’t kiss him on the first date.

Maybe tomorrow. 

December 22nd.

Y’know how Chris mentioned going out into the snow “one of these days?”.  

That day was today, apparently.  

“You don’t get it I’ll slip-“

“But you can hold onto me, yeah?” He laughs, squeaky still. Gloved hands find purchase on your hips, gently easing you forward where your back rests to his chest. His right hand shifts upward to rest against your spine, a feeling you have to swallow down wallowing in your stomach.

“Slow steps, I won’t let go.”

Don’t ever, you wish to say. Don’t ever let me go.

And not to keep me from slipping.

Maybe if you were ice skating or slow dancing this would be romantic, but the ugly, waddling manner you make down ice-coated stairs kills off any hope for swooning.

That is, until you do slip, and the man is a fraction too slow until you’re flat on your bum outside his apartment complex, heated from both annoyance and the knowledge far too many embarrassing pictures have been added to his camera roll just now.

In which.. a wonky, slightly-melting snowman comes to be not long afterward, neither of you willing to admit your creation is not “creative”, but horridly unsightly.

“I love it!”

Of course he does. Random pipes substituting as two arms and a carrot nose while Han’s fedora from 2016 awkwardly sits atop a head disproportionate from its body.

Your second date ideas offered a galaxy of possibilities, but after awakening late and coffee’s failure to open your eyes further than half-lidded, you figured today would mimic yesterday as a day spent at home.

He’d get some assignments done in the evening, and you’d probably turn on another Christmas movie while waiting to finish Love Actually in his company later on.

“We should come up with a name,” Nodding proudly at the aforementioned abomination, you cross your arms across your chest, your partner in crime brainstorming in a seriousness practically comical to the situation at hand.

“Hm.. something happy! I mean, look at his face, it’s happy, isn’t it?”

Mind you, cold, visibly dead extra coat-buttons are what stares back at you as its “eyes”, and you easily nod in feigned agreement as he takes ceaseless pictures of the thing with obvious delight, likely to send to friends and family alike.

The bottom snowball is melting, and a pipe has already fallen off what was supposed to be its arm, but Chris is beaming, and you'd rather slice off your own tongue than keep him from enjoying this moment.

Happy. 

You feel as if you’d do anything in the world to see him smile.

.

.

.

“Eh? Who’s that?”

5pm, and you’ll probably have to pummel the door open in the morning thanks to the blizzard-like conditions outside.

Among plenty of assignments he told himself he’d fret over in the evening, an unfinished paper sits in front of Chris while his thumbs twiddle along the keyboard of his phone, your chin hooked to his shoulder to glance down at the device—a habit of yours he finds himself unreasonably fond of.

Changbin came home early from the live-house, with most events cancelled from the cold and too little work to be done, there was no need to keep workers around. Dinner beckoned conversation and knowing glances from the roommate whenever you and Chris spoke, earning a scolding scowl while he simply grinned innocently in reply.

It seemed your love was obvious to everyone but you two. How tragic.

Though, amidst photos of both your earlier wipeout (a matter you don’t mention) and snapshots of the snowman he’s currently trying to send while seated at his desk, a certain name within the text catches your attention:

Mister Sunshine.

Chris chuckles sheepishly, your brows lifting in silent inquisition.

“It’s.. the snowman’s name. I named him.” He murmurs, the back of his neck doused pink. A facet of his embarrassment.

He named the snowman Mister Sunshine.

That smile of his making an additional appearance lies responsible for an internal scream to ring throughout your body, deafening your brain despite an external silence.

And in that moment, your feelings become harder to ignore than ever.

December 23rd. 

“You should get all pretty today.”

Your attention, once drawn to the different kinds of cookie-cutter molds, flickers up to him when he speaks. 

As it always does, hanging onto his every word as if fearful there’d be a day you couldn’t. 

Quizzically does your head tip in confusion, spurring the heat blooming by the back of his neck all the way up to flushed ears.

He waves quick hands, having been eyeing through the assortment of donuts Changbin brought home last night after his “buy one get one free sale” turned into buying a dozen at the shop by the live-house. 

“I mean, ‘s not like you aren’t pretty every day, but- y’know- like—“

It feels cruel letting him futilely try explaining, but gosh is he too cute.

And hearing him call you pretty feels too good to end abruptly. 

It also makes you wonder what happened to the smug-grin-wearing, playful person he could become at times. The one so confident and sure, now rosy.

An alter-ego sounded too far-fetched most days, but as for today… fairly accurate.

“What I meant is,” Turning, Chris extends the mug of coffee your way, heated glass warming your palms as you take it.

A part to your shared daily occurrences, routine. 

“I want to take you out tonight. We can go window shopping, see decorations, yeah?”

Perhaps the steam of your cup is what warms your cheeks, and very quickly do you come to recall you’re the one making him wait. 

He was willing to go all in from the start. And then you feel even crueler.

“Okay, tell me when to start getting ready.”

But you nod and pretend, because maybe you’re good at staving down things you know will come up anyway.

He’d always chided your procrastination.

.

Too long have you spent burning holes in your mirror with each scrutinizing glare, and the longer you stare, the worse what’s reflected becomes.

Chris had sent a small text proposing a forty minute window before heading out, in which ensued your frantic scouring around your room for both an outfit and coordinating accessories. 

Sure, you may have known the guy since your ugliest years, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to spend some extra time on yourself, right?

Your third of five dates, and you should be bouncing up and down with cheerfulness, looking forward to “getting all pretty”, dolling up for an evening with your favorite person, your best friend. And, come recent days, your admitted love interest.

But you aren’t. You don’t feel cheerful, ecstatic.

And walking out to his awestruck form doesn’t feel revitalizing, and sure as hell far from a confidence boost.

“You look.. wow.” He gapes, drinking in every article of clothing, the way you’ve got the prettiest of ribbons in your hair a crimson red, your cute socks and warm sweater.

An angel, he wants to say. That, along with many things you’d slap him on the shoulder for speaking aloud.

Worst of all? He knows your tell-tale signs in and out. 

“Hey.”

His face seems to melt. Like crying, and it makes you want to cry. The sad, tiny crease of his brows, the puff of his bottom lip.

Worried.

“But, I mean,” Your voice chokes up, and you hate every bit of it, the emotions compiling to the surface—ones impossible to stave down.

You don’t feel nice. Putting on an outfit you both liked and thought you looked good in, fixing up your makeup, the little accessories to compliment certain colors, elements.

Yet, your heart still sunk when looking in the mirror, and now, looking at Chris, it feels like all that confidence is beginning to melt—salt sprinkled on the snow of the driveway.

Greater than that, it frustrates you. It isn’t his fault he’s attractive; beautiful, even, but every second by his side feels akin to a blazing inferiority, causing the already-chilled, flushed fingertips of yours to burn, your ears to grow unusually warm.

Like a child.

How irritating.

“Hey,”

His voice, like honey and pastries and all the bestest, warmest things when in need of comfort.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

The endearment isn’t teasing this time, not even in the slightest. It’s soft and delicate, an ornate vase constructed of glass, capable of breaking from a mere breath. 

Standing outside his apartment, snow dappling the sky in endless flurries, it’s only you two in the world.

Your lip wobbles, but Chris always catches you before you fall.

“I’m the man honored to walk around with you tonight, hm?” He starts, thumbing away bubbling tears from your cheeks.

“You look too pretty for these tears, ‘don’t want to mess up your makeup now do we?” He cracks a feeble smile, smoothing down your brows and adjusting your scarf with utmost care from his mitten-clad fingers.

“Ah,” His face lights up with recognition. “You added the glittery eyeshadow.”

You can’t help but crack a laugh. Pitifully croaked, but there no less.

First day of high school and you’d shown up with a downright awful amount of glittery eyeshadow, looking similar to a human-disco ball with the sheer amount alone.

Chris, ever the kind soul knowing you since birth, gave you a two thumbs up, a tight smile, and a “looks great!” that’s lived as one of your best inside jokes even now.

Luckily, this time around the amount is agreeable, just above your lashes and shimmering avidly beneath falling snow.

“I did,” You whisper softly, gaze fluttering down to your shoes before flickering back up to him. “And um.. is it true? That..”

Oh this is embarrassing.

“I look okay?”

Perhaps if he says it, tonight you can believe it’s true.

This time he breaks your heart, with such a heart-wrenching smile on his face.

“You always look beautiful, ‘doesn’t matter how much you think you’re not, you’ll never be able to change my mind. Now let me take you out, yeah? ‘Can grab some hot chocolate,” He ushers, winding your arm to link with his as you make forward, his black trench coat swaying with the click of dress shoes, chilly nose finding sanctuary in a ruby-red scarf wrapped around his shoulders.

Beneath the streetlights and dark skies, Chris could be a prince if he so wished.

That’s another thing you can believe is true tonight.

Curious eyes of awaiting children and scolding mothers litter the streets, tiny fingers pointing to toys through the glass, busied chatter and shared affection blooming within a once blue atmosphere, now dappled in ribbons of color.

The transition from monochrome, like shutters of an old camera capturing technicolor for the first time.

Or maybe Chris was the one responsible for each flourish of color, painting your world the prettiest of hues.

“Do you remember it?”

His voice, honeyed, accompanied by a plume of air in requite of a warm exhale evokes a skip to your step, catching your footing on the stone sidewalk with an awkward clearing to your throat.

“The things you used to want for Christmas?” He continues, and you chose to ignore the knowing smile on his face, gaze shifting upward in hopes of recollection, to no avail.

“Hm.. Do you?” Quietly offered, a change in attention grants you momentary escape from the spotlight.

Well, before it truly does become momentary.

He never has been embarrassed easily, you’d like to add. A matter speaking for itself in the way he automatically clings to your side in response, swaying back and forth whilst singing along to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” you didn’t realize was blaring through overhead speakers above passing until this moment.

Predictably, he earns the bemused grins of passerby and your face (as an individual who does in fact get embarrassed easily, to your own dismay) growing fifty shades of crimson.

“Yah! Quit!” Though your efforts are as futile as your voice and it’s involuntarily chortled-ness, you smack at his hand no less.

Of course, he persists.

Until the sharp turn to a small, annually appearing hot chocolate truck ceases your complaining and his singing in synonymous tandem.

An array of memories come washing across you with each gust of winter wind, and you can practically hear the manner of squeakiness his voice used to be, the foam from whipped-cream topped cocoa sitting atop his top lip like a mustache. You’d always laugh at that.

When you burnt your tongue one year after the beverage was too hot and he remained resilient in his belief you could and would taste Christmas dinner.

You did not, but it was worth a try. Also worth seeing his big, hopeful eyes peek up at you excitedly.

Back then he was always shorter than you, until that fateful day in High school he arrived with a far taller stature than the pipsqueak you knew of most days.

A lot has changed since then. In more ways than one.

Seems his memory remains as sharp as ever, evident in the gentle squeeze he gives your hand—his you hadn’t even noticed was held in your own up till now.

“Get some, hm? My treat.” He quickly urges, watching you pad forward like a child to admire the menu in adoration, waving to the old woman you’d known since a child, always manning her tiny miracle of a truck. 

He would keep the fact he’d looked up the hours the truck would be in town to himself. That, along with the tiny heart drawn on the side of the cardboard coffee sleeve you had yet to acknowledge, one he discovers is the old woman’s doing, her knowing smile matching his own when he looks up for silent clarification.

Encouragement. 

Go for it.

He feels his palms grow clammy, internally thankful you weren’t holding hands at the moment(which was enough of a heart-attack inducing experience in itself).

The trace of lipgloss on the rim of your cup, the batting of those precious eyes.

Worst is, you don’t even know what you do. The little things compiling into something downright torturous.

And when you look up at him for that split second, his breath catches. 

Ah. 

He wants to kiss you. 

From the scrunch of your nose when you begin to laugh to the snowflakes already dappling your lashes.

Because loving you is easy, and then it’s not. Over and over again. He’s afraid, but his mind is fuzzy and jumbled with feelings, and that small bit of melted marshmallow on your bottom lip he finds himself longing to taste. Lick up the sweetness and sink his teeth into the plush skin–

The tiniest drop of hot chocolate clings to your lips, and Chris wonders if you’d taste like it too.

December 24th.

“Hm?” His hum of confusion falls upon deaf ears, too preoccupied with a call from your mom to take note.

Something must’ve piqued his attention, though you’d have half the mind to guess what.

That is until hanging up, and curious brown eyes boring into your skull from afar transform into this itch you can’t ignore.

“Chris.”

Like an annoying older brother, he is sometimes.

Then there’s that sheepish sort of sound, the “i-got-caught” giggle testing your annoyed facade.

“Hey now,” He begins after a moment, pointing an incredulous finger your way like you’ve said something outrageous, looking like some perplexed old man whilst running a hand through his hair in an odd, cheap rendition of exasperation.

He looks more like he’s choking, but you give full points for effort. 

“You haven’t put up your tree or anything? What are you, the grinch?”

Oh, so that’s what this is about. 

For context, your conversation minutes prior with your mother consisted of the formalities: “How are you? Eating well? Sleeping well?” which turned into the personal portions: “Classes? Boyfriends?”

As for the last question, you’d keep her posted. 

But what seemed to grab his attention most was the additional part where you not-so-discreetly told her you likely wouldn’t bother putting up decorations in your own place this year.

Granted, you spent most days at Chris’s anyway, Christmas as well. Why not skip the hassle to freeload?

Also, you weren’t aware this was chastising season, Mr. Bahng.

“You’re serious?”

Nope. All a joke, every bit.

“…I usually just stay here anyway..?”

Which was true! He knows this!

“Nuh-uh, ‘s gotta change. What if one year I go overseas to visit family and you’re here alone?”

Horribly fast, your stomach sinks, and you’re hasty to scorn the sensation.

This fear, innate and uncontrollable. That on a certain season, you won’t have that certain someone to spend it with. 

I won’t, you want to say; treat the words like some totally unrealistic joke, treat his argument like a fable.

The clapping of his hands wards you from your incomprehensible nightmare.

“Alright! Let’s go! We’re decorating your place!”

This year at least, he’ll be by your side.

So you nod, as you do to most things concerning Christopher Bahng.

Love makes a person so.. strange, does it not?

Maybe that’s just you. Or him, or all of it. Who knows.

Crunching of white sheets beneath your feet keep your head from falling astray, as if dancing atop dove feathers amidst your trek to the car.

Too many thoughts, too many questions likely to be left unanswered.

The moon, in her full, glowing glory blinks down from above as a feeble solace.

Of the most beautiful of love stories. For when her lover, Sun, grows tired of arduous laboring in the day, she will arrive to establish her night so that Sun may rest for another day. A night of waiting for the one most beloved to her.

It reminds you quite a bit of yourself, oddly enough, as frosted fingertips shuffle beneath your legs to bask in the passenger seat’s seat heater as a source of warmth.

Each exhale fogs up the windows as the engine rumbles to life, and it’s a wonder you didn’t have to scrape off ice beforehand.

“Mm, in Australia it’d be so warm since ‘was summer, even on Christmas Eve. I remember one year ‘got the chance to get out there during the Holidays. Jisung sent me a text saying it was four degrees celsius in Korea and he was wearing three jackets. Meanwhile, I was outside in a tank top with Berry in twenty-seven.”

His eyes adorn the same sweet crinkle of happiness, ring-clad index tapping an inaudible beat where it rests on your knee, the other finding purchase on the steering wheel as you continue onward through late-December snowflakes.

He lights up your world without even trying. His smile, his excited talking. The way his words grow shorter and shorter the more excited he is to explain something.

Nerd. 

You love every second of it.

“And what I said about Australia earlier.” Chris begins quietly, sparing you a glimpse. His palm squeezes your knee gently, and you want to shout, jump, do something to alleviate the scream wishing to claw from your throat in reply.

Since when have you become so susceptible, so easy?

Simple. Since you fell in love.

Or, more like when you realized you were in love.

This was nothing new, after all.

“You wouldn’t be alone here over the holidays. I’d take you with me.” His eyes squeeze shut momentarily in thought, tone this quieted whisper you have to crane to discern.

“Back in October, during my birthday. Do you know what my wish was?”

A wordless look of wonder urges him on, thumb smoothing along your skin in a tender rhythm, never to break.

“One of these days, I’ll take you to Australia with me. Home with me.”

“So my first love can meet my last love.”

The second portion is barely intelligible, as if it were a mere whisper in the night. 

You wonder if it was a figment of your imagination.

Nevertheless, the less-than-inviting (compared to Chris’s), pale glow of your flat’s porch light eventually comes into view, and either of you clamber from car doors with evident struggle—abundant layers against the chill making for an awkward toddle to your snow-muddled doorstep.

Quick to retrieve the boxes from your attic, the both of you get to work. Chris frets over shoveling snow from your front porch, and you set to Christmas-ifying the interior.

It’s domestic, almost. His humming from the front door to songs playing on the speaker inside, the slow transition from your usual flat to a festive explosion. 

Then, of course, the tree.

In which you awkwardly shift your weight from foot to foot while awaiting his assistance, only for you to make eye contact and want to shrivel into a ball and never come out.

Again, shy. It’s bizarre. 

“Hm.. You wanna put up the star?”

After far too long trying to figure out the logistics, a makeshift (albeit lopsided) tree resides in your living space, a few ornaments here and there clothing the sad excuse for a normally grand view. 

But it’s yours, together.

You think with that knowledge alone it could’ve been a single sprout and would have been your world all the same.

His traces, everywhere. Both of your hands clutching onto each one you can grasp.

However, spontaneity comes back to haunt you. This time in the form of his hands curling around your hips, giving you a chaste countdown before you’re lifted up to place the star on the very top.

Good luck not having a heart attack, huh.

Miraculously, you don’t. Neither do you combust or squeal or any of the wild thoughts racing through murky depths of your brain.

Instead, you’re placed on the ground once more, his index and thumb taking the side of your top to gently adjust back down where it had ridden up.

Like a gentleman.

Shoot.

He makes it hard, doesn’t he?

Leaning to prop his chin on your shoulder while you admire the twinkling lights, you’d like to believe it was a hallucination that he pressed the most imperceptible, tiniest peck to the clothed junction of your neck and shoulder before pulling away.

“C’mere,” His words fall a near murmur, having to lightly tug at your wrist to truly garner your undivided attention without blood rushing to your face.

As for him, he simply had to pull you from the tree for the sake of his own wellbeing, the sight of warm lights reflecting in eyes he’d easily get lost in making each swallow harder to manage.

That, and there was.. a surprise of a sort. The sweep of a hand on the way out from his apartment, the fretful (clumsy) fastening of this so-called surprise under the guise he was clearing your porch.

Which he was, respectfully.

Just with a little something extra involved.

Nonetheless, oblivious to his plan, you follow along, anticipating some sad copy of Mister Sunshine to be made from fallen pine needles and buttons.

So when he points upwards, nothing short of a roller coaster occurs in your chest.

A spider, a roach, something scary—

A mistletoe.

Right above your head.

He’s got this giddy, nervous grin wobbling on plush lips, eyes searching yours like some little boy seeking a reaction. And you feel like you’re staring at elementary schooler Chris all over again.

At his cheery face knowing he’d be getting ice cream on the way home, when you lied about being able to taste Christmas dinner with a burnt tongue. 

A single lightbulb flickers orange, illuminating the mistletoe residing just beside.

Finally not-burnt cookies sit in their container back at his apartment, Love Actually long since completed. Your snowman, named Mister Sunshine, occupies the complex’s front walkway, and too many mugs of hot chocolate have been downed these past few days to count.

When your own place gets lonely, a tree you had put up together keeps you company, so that those nights alone this winter won’t be so cold. 

“Can I..?”

Chilled temperatures nip at your nose, and you feel like crying listening to the softened manner he asks, the tentativeness in the way his hand reaches to cup your cheek.

The sound is more like a plea, and you’d be beyond embarrassed if it was anyone but Chris.

“Please.”

And beneath that mentioned mistletoe, Chris kisses you for the first time, and December 25th makes its slow approach above the horizon.

When becoming more grows scary, Chris holds your hand to remind you there’s nothing he won’t step into with you. No matter the doubt, the fear.

It seems this winter you won’t be lonely. Because you won’t be spending this Christmas alone, nor many to come.

He’ll make sure of that.

One day till Christmas, four dates till you told him you felt the same.

You never got to five anyway. 

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[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🖤

[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

[milk-tea-sakura]

────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]

🛒 SKZ TEXTS — “what are we?”

including. 𐙚ot8

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

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

random (loving) shit texts with bf!skz 🃏💌

this is a bit of a return to my original content if you will! i remember starting out with just random daily shit bf!skz texts almost a year ago😨 basically a bit of mundanity while i work on new prompts (and two more versions of dad!skz texts hehehe)

✨masterlist for more delulu bf!skz

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

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[beebee18]

Skz x 1D lyrics

Skz (hyung line) x bsf reader

Fake texts, 13+

(some implications, no swear words)

Songs used mentioned alongside their names.

Feed back would be much appreciated.

Maknae line

Main masterlist skz masterlist

Chan: Never enough

.

Minho: Little black dress

.

Changbin: Temporary fix

.

Hyunjin: Love you goodbye

.

[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.

[milk-tea-sakura]

🐺⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆🐺

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.”