🍓

You're my headliner.

[hannie-bees]

🎀 sᥱrιᥱs 🎀

Art of Chase — C.SC || Y.JH

🎀 ot𝟷𝟹 🎀

svt at clubs [req]

svt period comfort [req]

🎀 ιᥒdιvιdυᥲᥣ 🎀

sᥱυᥒgᥴhᥱoᥣ ❀

Still here– arguments with him

Not almost. Always — Let me love you right, the way you deserve

jᥱoᥒghᥲᥒ ❀

5 more minutes. — If your bf has a day off, you have to stay in bed with him.

Summer Nights — Night walks with him.

joshυᥲ❀

Still scribbling...

jυᥒ ❀

Heart shaped strawberries — the cute guy you met at your daughter's fav cafe.

woᥒwoo❀

Still scribbling...

hoshι ❀

Still scribbling...

woozι ❀

[ 3:47 ]

mιᥒgყυ ❀

Cut! — actor mingyu [req]

thᥱ𝟾 ❀

Still scribbling...

dk❀

With every sunrise ☼ᨒ — marriage proposal

vᥱrᥒoᥒ ❀

Benjamin vs Jessica — Your bf is terrified of bugs, and you're his knight in shining armor

Through my eyes. Bonus cut — You surprise Vernon with a bouquet of flowers

Sad Bread — You wake up to your bf eating sad lonely bread like he isn't loved.

Pieces of you — A 100 reasons why you love him

sᥱυᥒgkwᥲᥒ ❀

Still scribbling...

dιᥒo ❀

Still scribbling...

[hannie-bees]

Heyyy ☺️

I was wondering if you’d be up for writing a Scoups fic sometime! Honestly, I’m not picky about the plot I’m just really craving some good Seungcheol fluff and/or angst right now. Totally no pressure if you’re not feeling it, but I’d love to see what you come up with if you’re down. Thanks so much either way!! 💗

Hey love I'm SO sorry i took so long cuz I was busy breaking things off with my situationship 😅 and this might be lowkey inspired by that

So sorry for keeping you waiting again 😔

Post by @hannie-bees · 4 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 1 · Not almost. Always. · Wc: ~2.4k Synopsis: After a failed almost-relationship leaves her guarded, she never expected that t

[hannie-bees]

Not almost. Always.

Wc: ~2.4k

Synopsis: After a failed almost-relationship leaves her guarded, she never expected that the one to break down her walls would be the person who's seen them up close all along.

It all started with a wedding.

Or more accurately, the months of chaos leading up to it.

Y/N had practically moved into her best friend Jiwon’s house during the final stretch of planning. Between dress fittings, centerpiece disasters, and decoding cryptic notes left by the wedding planner, she was always there barefoot in the kitchen icing cupcakes or sprawled on the living room floor tying ribbons onto wedding favors.

And he was always there too.

Seungcheol.

Jiwon’s older brother. The one who used to be just a background presence growing up, the older sibling who offered her rides to school sometimes or helped lift heavy boxes during their annual spring cleaning.

But now? Now, he was different.

Older, sure. Three years to be exact. But it wasn’t the age gap, it was the energy. Stable. Solid. Present.

And he’d seen it all.

He’d seen her try, really try, in a situationship with a guy who looked perfect on paper. Sweet texts, late-night calls, spontaneous dates that felt like something real, until it wasn’t. Until the moment she asked for clarity and he hesitated. Said he "wasn’t ready for anything serious." Said he “wouldn't be able to give her what she deserves at the moment” then slowly pulled away anyway. Because he would rather let you go than change himself for better.

It didn’t break her. But it hardened something.

So now, she was careful. Not closed off, just guarded. Her love was no longer given freely to those who hadn’t earned it. Whoever came next? They’d have to be worth it.

And Seungcheol… He noticed everything.

From how she tensed slightly whenever someone brought up relationships, to how she shrugged off compliments like armor. How she no longer entertained flirtation unless it was intentional. How she poured so much of herself into others and rarely received the same in return.

He watched. And quietly, he decided.

If she’d let him, he’d be the one. The one who wouldn’t flinch when things got real. The one who wouldn’t retreat when she asked for more. The one who showed up, and stayed.

---

“Hey,” Seungcheol said one afternoon, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen. She was there again, of course. Elbow-deep in frosting and already looking three tasks ahead.

“Can you pass me the sprinkles?” she asked without looking up.

He did, but only after stealing one and popping it into his mouth. “You always doing everything by yourself?”

She gave a little shrug. “If I waited for help, nothing would ever get done.”

He leaned against the counter beside her, arms crossed. “Good thing I’m not just anyone, then.”

That made her pause. She looked up, brows raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He just smiled. “You’ll see.”

---

The more time she spent at the house, the more their paths crossed intentionally, at this point. He’d find excuses to be around: needing coffee when she was using the machine, deciding to help Jiwon with errands that just so happened to align with Y/N’s schedule.

She wasn’t dumb. She noticed. But she didn’t mind.

There was something safe about Seungcheol. The way he never asked more of her than she was ready to give. The way he showed up, not loudly, not demanding attention, but always there in the background, supporting, steady.

And that steadiness was disarming.

Because after what she’d been through, she didn’t need butterflies or grand gestures.

She needed consistency. Honesty. Presence.

She needed a man, not a boy who only wanted the good parts.

One evening, the three of them, Y/N, Seungcheol and Jiwon, sat around the living room folding place cards.

“I think I’m allergic to weddings” Y/N joked, blowing hair out of her face.

“Why’s that?” Cheol asked, watching her fingers fumble with the tiny gold ribbon.

She shrugged. “Just… watching everyone stress themselves out over one day. For what?”

Jiwon snorted. “Someone’s bitter.”

Y/N opened her mouth to object, but Cheol beat her to it.

“Maybe she’s not bitter. Maybe she just hasn’t seen what it’s like when someone’s worth the stress.”

His tone was light, but the way his eyes lingered on hers said everything.

She swallowed.

---

A few days later, he asked her out.

Casual. No pressure. Just coffee.

She hesitated.

“I’m not looking for anything,” she said truthfully. “Not unless it’s… different.”

His gaze didn’t falter. “I’m not here to waste your time, Y/N. If you give me a shot, I’ll make that clear every single day.”

And she believed him.

They took it slow. One coffee turned into walks around the neighborhood. Walks turned into dinners, movie nights, long conversations about everything and nothing.

One evening, sitting across from each other at a quiet restaurant, he asked about her last relationship.

She sighed. “It wasn’t even a real relationship. That’s the worst part.”

He listened.

“I gave him so much,” she continued. “Time, attention, patience. And he loved the idea of it. But when it came to committing? To calling it what it was? He ran. Said he wasn’t ready. Said I deserved more. Then disappeared.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened slightly.

“He was a boy,” he said quietly. “You didn’t lose anything. He did.”

She looked at him, really looked.

“You’re not angry?”

“I’m angry for you,” he said, voice low. “Because someone like you shouldn’t have to beg for the bare minimum.”

And that was the moment she knew.

This wasn’t like before.

This wasn’t almost.

This was real.

He wasn’t here to charm her into giving more than she had. He was here to meet her where she was and offer even more.

And slowly, she let him.

Not because she needed saving. Not because she was broken.

But because she deserved the kind of love that looked at her and thought: I’ll earn it. Every day.

And Seungcheol?

He was already doing just that.

---

Let me show you what a real man is.

Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved.

Let me be the one who gives you the same, or even more, than what you give to others.

And she smiled.

Because maybe this time, finally she’d found someone who could.

Someone who would.

🌸Masterlist🌸

[hannie-bees]

Hello there :) I’d like to request something I had on my mind. I imagine Mingyu as an actor who decides to break up with his girlfriend (reader) to focus on his acting life, but it causes a lot of hurt, so it’s angsty. I would love a happy ending, maybe a reconciliation? Where they get back together after sometime.

Sending love and hugs 💗

-Natt

Heyy love I'm SO sorry this took so long it's cuz I broke my right hand lol n I can't do shit with my left hand 😭

But I hope it's up to your expectations:)

Post by @hannie-bees · 4 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · Cut 🎬 · Pairing: Actor!Mingyu x Reader Genre: Angst → Breakup → Reconciliation → Fluff Word count: ~2,160 You never

[hannie-bees]

Cut 🎬

Pairing: Actor!Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst → Breakup → Reconciliation → Fluff

Word count: ~2,160

You never really watched him on-screen after that.

It wasn’t a conscious choice. You just… didn’t have it in you.

His face, the one you’d kissed goodnight for three years, was suddenly everywhere. In trailers. On billboards. Winning awards with tears in his eyes and your name nowhere near his speech.

You weren’t bitter. Not exactly.

Just… hollow.

The kind of ache that doesn’t show up all at once. It seeps in slow. Quiet. Like the way his apartment felt too clean the day you left. Like the cold side of the bed never warming again. Like the way you stopped ordering iced americanos because they tasted like mornings with him.

And you knew why he did it.

Mingyu had always been ambitious. The kind of man who could make his own dreams come true if he had enough time and focus, and when his breakout role finally came, he said the words you’d been fearing for months:

"I think we need to break up."

You didn’t fight him. You just asked him why.

"Because I don’t know how to love you and chase this at the same time. And I can’t give you halfway."

It had sounded noble. Even kind.

But all you heard was: you’re in the way.

So you walked.

And he let you.

---

Two years later, you met again.

Of all places, a filming set.

You weren’t part of the crew exactly, just helping out a friend who was running costume and wardrobe on short notice. She’d begged you to fill in for a few days.

You didn’t ask who the lead actor was.

You found out the moment you stepped on set.

He was laughing. Head tilted back, hair styled up, makeup still clinging to the corners of his jaw. The same laugh you used to hear at midnight when he burned his toast or tried to freestyle in the kitchen.

Kim Mingyu.

Standing fifteen feet from you like the universe had hit rewind and then pause.

He hadn’t seen you yet. Thank God.

You turned. Walked straight toward the wardrobe tent.

Your heart felt like glass in your chest.

---

But fate, or whatever cruel director she was, didn’t leave it there.

You spent the entire day ducking into racks of clothes and running errands that didn’t exist. But he found you anyway.

It was late. Almost everyone had gone home. You were helping pack up when a voice, lower now but familiar, cut through the soft buzz of the night.

"...Y/N?"

You froze.

Turned slowly.

He looked just the same.

Older, maybe. Sharper jaw. Eyes a little more tired. But the same boy underneath it all. The one who used to get nervous before auditions and bite his lip when he was about to say something real.

"Hey," you said, voice too steady for how hard your heart was pounding.

"I didn’t know you were here."

You shrugged. "Last-minute favor."

He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You look good."

"Thanks. You look… successful."

That earned a soft laugh. "Trying."

Silence.

You fiddled with a hanger. He stepped closer.

"Can we talk?"

You swallowed. "Why?"

He looked like he’d been waiting to ask for years.

"Because I didn’t stop missing you."

---

You ended up sitting on a prop bench in the corner of the lot. Everything else was packed up. It felt too quiet.

Mingyu sat beside you, hands clasped together, elbows on his knees like he was bracing for impact.

"I thought about you every day," he said quietly.

"You were on TV every day. Kind of hard to forget."

He flinched a little. "I didn’t want to leave like that."

"Then why did you?"

He didn’t answer for a second. Just stared at his hands.

"Because I loved you too much to ask you to wait."

Your heart twisted.

"That wasn’t your choice to make."

He looked at you then, really looked. The way he used to when he was trying to memorize your face.

"You were already giving up so much for me. Your time, your peace, your patience. I felt like I was holding you back. I didn’t want you to build your life around me."

"But I wanted to."

"I know." He looked down again. "That’s what scared me."

The wind blew gently through the empty lot. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"So you broke my heart for what? So I could be free?"

He winced. "I told myself it was mercy."

"And did it feel like mercy to you?"

"No."

Silence again. But this time, it didn’t feel as sharp.

"I watched our movie premiere alone," he said quietly. "Everyone was celebrating. I just kept wishing you were next to me."

You didn’t answer.

He went on.

"I got so much of what I wanted. And none of it felt right without you."

You swallowed, eyes burning.

"So why now?"

He looked up at you.

"Because I don’t want to win anything else if I can’t come home to you."

---

It wasn’t a fairytale.

You didn’t fall into each other’s arms under a spotlight. He didn’t kiss you under fake snow or cry through an apology monologue.

You just sat there, side by side. Two people who had broken, grown, and maybe, just maybe, still fit.

And finally, finally, you let your hand fall over his.

He looked at it like it was a miracle.

You gave a small smile. "So... are you gonna take me to your next premiere?"

He laughed, eyes shining. "Only if I can say you’re my date."

---

Six Months Later.

You stood next to him at the premiere. A proper red carpet this time.

Mingyu wore black. You wore navy. He held your hand like it was the only real thing in the room.

When they asked who you were, he didn’t hesitate.

"The love of my life."

🌸Masterlist🌸

[hannie-bees]

Pairing: College AU | Dance Major!Lee Chan × Senior!reader

Genre: Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Flirt Comedy, Romance

Trope: Chaotic flirty younger guy × emotionally walled older girl

Theme: Persistence, patience, and love that waits without pressure

Synopsis:

You weren’t looking for love—especially not in the form of a younger, overly confident dance major who called you noona just to see you roll your eyes.

Lee Chan was loud, relentless, and annoyingly charming. The kind of guy who remembered your coffee order after one accidental meeting. Who texted you memes at 1AM and always said the right thing with a little too much honesty.

You thought he was just being playful. You didn’t think it meant anything.

He did. From the beginning.

He just knew you'd need time.

You didn’t think he was your type.

But love doesn’t care about types.

"I’ll chase you until you stop running."

"You won’t catch me."

"I’m not in a hurry. This ends in us.”

I'm actually really confused whether to write it in one full fic of 11k ish words or divide it into like 4 chapters

which one do y'all prefer

long

multiple chapters

Voting ended onJun 23, 2025

[hannie-bees]

Can you write Y/N single mom with a 5 year old daughter and one day she meet Junhui in her life and everything changes

Here u go! Tbh I was a bit confused on if u wanted a meet cute or slice of life so I decided to go with meet-cute & I tried my best n hope u like it ♡♡

Post by @hannie-bees · 5 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · Heart-shaped strawberries 🍓 · Pairing: Jun x single mom!Reader Genre: Fluff, slice-of-life, meet-cute Length: ~1.5k words

[hannie-bees]

Heart-shaped strawberries 🍓

Pairing: Jun x single mom!Reader

Genre: Fluff, slice-of-life, meet-cute

Length: ~1.5k words

Saturdays belonged to your daughter.

Not work. Not laundry. Not sleep.

Just her. And recently, her entire heart belonged to a place called DinoMunch Café, the brightly-colored children’s café tucked at the end of a quiet street, decorated in pastels and play foam and the faint smell of applesauce and pancake syrup.

This was her third week asking to go back. She’d been talking about the “strawberry dinosaur café” every single day.

“Can we go now, mommy?” she asked, swinging her legs from where she sat on the bed, half-dressed and hugging her stuffed lion upside down. “I wanna sit on the blue chair and get the dino sandwich again!”

You glanced at the clock. 8:37 AM.

“You do realize it’s Saturday. And I am horizontal.”

She leaned over your blanket burrito and said very seriously, “If we’re late, the blue chair gets taken. And he gives the heart strawberries to someone else.”

That got your attention.

“…‘He’?”

She shrugged. “The uncle. The nice one. He cuts them like this.” She mimicked a heart with her tiny hands, though it looked more like a butterfly. “He talks nice too. Like a cartoon. But real.”

You smiled despite yourself. “That’s very descriptive.”

“I like him.”

“Oh do you?” You ruffled her hair. “Are you gonna marry him or can I?”

She thought for a second. “You can. I already have Lion.”

Noted.

---

It wasn’t hard to see what she meant when you arrived.

The café had just opened. Still quiet. Still clean. Your daughter rushed ahead like she owned the place, and the man behind the counter—mid-20s, soft brown hair, green apron, and the kind of smile that made people instinctively feel safe—brightened the moment he saw her.

“There she is,” he said, straightening. “Welcome back, Miss Dino Sandwich.”

She gasped. “You ‘membered!”

“Of course I did. You drew me a sparkly triceratops last time, remember?”

“She had pink horns,” your daughter beamed proudly, then pointed a tiny hand. “That’s my mommy!”

You had just caught up, a little out of breath, not expecting to be introduced mid-sprint.

Jun looked up at you and smiled, softer now, like a light turned down to a gentler glow. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back, brushing hair from your face. “Sorry—we’re still learning patience.”

“No need,” he replied easily. “I like seeing her happy. She’s kind of our café VIP.”

You laughed. “Well, that explains her café queen attitude.”

Your daughter had already climbed onto a child-sized chair, swinging her legs again, arms spread wide like she was ready to be served. You mouthed a sheepish sorry toward Jun, but he just grinned, grabbing a notepad.

“Dino sandwich and apple juice, right?” he asked her.

She nodded so hard her whole body moved.

“And for you?” he turned back to you now. “We have oat milk lattes. I remember that from last time.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He tilted his head, smiling. “You asked for it while holding a juice box and your phone with your elbow. Kind of hard to forget.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Right. Multitasking mom moment.”

“You did great,” he said sincerely, then added gently, “I’m Jun, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said, warmth creeping up your neck.

“And this,” Jun added, placing a hand to his chest like he was addressing royalty, “is your daughter’s favorite table. Officially reserved.”

Your daughter clapped. “Blue chair!!”

As he moved toward the kitchen, he gave you one last glance—a lingering one. Not flirty. Not awkward. Just kind. Noticing.

You looked down at your daughter, who was already pretending to feed her lion a crayon. “You like him, huh?”

She nodded, serious again. “He gives me two napkins. One for my hands and one for Lion.”

---

When Jun returned with your drinks, he set your cup down with care.

“I added cinnamon,” he said. “Hope that’s okay. It looked like a cinnamon day.”

You smiled into your cup. “That’s… honestly really nice.”

He crouched beside your daughter then, holding out a small plate. “Do you approve of the strawberry hearts today, your highness?”

She gasped. “There’s three!”

“That’s how you know it’s a lucky day.”

---

You didn’t mean to stay long. But somehow, the minutes stretched.

You sipped your latte slower than usual. Jun popped in and out—taking orders, chatting with kids, cleaning up spills like he was made of sunlight and infinite patience. Every time he passed your table, he gave you a smile or a soft comment—like you were on the same team.

When your daughter spilled a little juice and looked like she might cry, Jun was already there with napkins and a gentle, “Happens to the best of us.”

You couldn’t stop looking at him.

The way he crouched when he talked to kids so he was on their level. How he thanked every parent like he meant it. And how every single time your daughter called, “Junie-uncle!”—he came running with a grin.

And once—just once—when your eyes met across the room, he smiled in this quiet way… like he was hoping you’d smile back.

You did.

---

As you packed up to leave, Jun was wiping a table nearby.

“She really loves it here,” you said, adjusting your daughter’s bag.

“She makes the place brighter,” he replied, then hesitated, voice lower. “You too.”

You paused.

Your daughter interrupted, tugging on Jun’s sleeve. “We’re gonna come next week too.”

He smiled down at her. “I’ll be here.”

Then, looking at you: “I hope you are too.”

---

You left with a fluttering in your chest you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Not from the cinnamon. Not from the coffee.

But from Jun.

And from the feeling that maybe… maybe something good had just started.

🌸Masterlist🌸

[hannie-bees]

Hello! Can I request an angst to fluff imagine with Seungcheol or Soonyoung? I picture this like fighting over something very silly and slowly escalate to a heated argument to the point “yn” starts to cry and he storms out of the house or apartment for some time. After that they make up but I’ll leave the process of it up to you if you decide to write this, dear reader 👀✌🏻 love youu

Seungcheol × reader

Angst to fluff

Fight focused

1k words

---

I decided on Cheol because I thought it just fits him better & I hope it met ur expectations. Love u lots ♡♡

The rain was already falling when you unlocked the door.

You didn’t think much of it—just a long day, a sore body, and the quiet hope that maybe Seungcheol was still awake so you could collapse into him for warmth. But the moment you stepped inside, you felt it.

Tension.

The lights were dim. The table was still set. Two plates of now-cold food sat untouched.

Seungcheol was sitting on the couch, elbow resting on the armrest, fingers to his lips like he’d been waiting with thoughts he hadn’t wanted to say out loud. His eyes flicked up at you. And then, calmly:

“You forgot to text.”

You blinked. Dropped your bag. “What?”

“I waited,” he said, still composed. “Made dinner. Thought maybe you were caught up at work or stuck somewhere, so I didn’t want to bother you. But… you didn’t text.”

You sighed, too tired to unpack it. “Cheol, I just lost track of time—”

“That’s the third time this week.”

Now you looked at him. His voice wasn’t angry, just tight. Controlled. And that was worse.

“Okay,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not the point.”

You froze mid-motion. “Then what is the point?”

He stood slowly, jaw clenched. “The point is, I sit here every night wondering if you’ll show up or not. I make dinner, I light the candles, I try. And you forget. You don’t even think to say, ‘Hey, I’ll be late.’ That’s the point.”

You were already unraveling, exhaustion twisting sharp in your chest.

“I’ve had a long day,” you snapped. “And I’m sorry I didn’t send a text, but I’m not going to stand here and get guilt-tripped for forgetting one thing.”

“One thing,” he echoed, hurt bleeding into his voice. “Right.”

“That’s not what I—” You huffed. “God, why are you acting like I don’t care?”

He stepped closer. “Because lately, it feels like I’m the only one trying.”

Something in you broke.

“I’m doing my best, Cheol! I don’t have time to babysit your feelings every night.”

Silence.

His expression didn’t change, but everything behind his eyes shut down.

You hadn’t meant it like that. Not really. Not in the way it sounded—sharp, cold, cruel. You opened your mouth to fix it, but the damage was already done.

“I can’t talk to you right now,” he said quietly.

And before you could reach for him, he grabbed his keys and walked out.

---

The apartment was too quiet after that.

You didn’t move for a while—just stared at the door like maybe he’d come back any second. But the minutes dragged. The clock ticked too loudly. And somewhere between trying to reheat the food and sitting down on the floor next to the couch, the tears came.

You didn’t even know who you were crying for. Him? Yourself? The mess you’d made?

You’d snapped at the one person who always made space for your worst days.

---

It was nearly an hour later when the door opened again.

You looked up, eyes puffy, arms curled around your knees. He stood there in the doorway—damp from the rain, hair flat against his forehead, and face unreadable.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then he stepped forward. Sat down on the floor in front of you. Looked at you like he was seeing past all the anger.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His brows drew together, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I was tired, and I let it win. I was defensive when I should’ve listened. I wasn’t fair to you.”

You sniffled. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then his hand reached up, gently brushing a tear from your cheek.

“I wasn’t asking for perfect,” he murmured. “I just wanted to know I still matter to you.

“You do,” you whispered. “You do. I just... forgot how to show it.”

He nodded slowly, his forehead resting against yours, like the apology was already enough. Like coming back had never been a question.

Neither of you spoke after that.

He just pulled you into his arms, held you close on the floor, and let the rain keep talking for you.

🌸Masterlist🌸

[hannie-bees]

Hey lovely 💕 Can I request Seventeen reactions to reader being in pain during periods? I know this is so basic and common but rn I’m going through a lot of pain and my delusional self needs this kind of comfort 🥹

oh angel 🥺💕 first of all, i’m so sorry you’re going through that right now—period pain is no joke and you deserve all the comfort in the world. i promise this isn’t basic at all—these are exactly the kind of delulu daydreams that get us through the worst cramps 😭 i’ll get on it right away and make it extra soft for you. sending you all the warmth and love rn 💗💗

SEUNGCHEOL — the provider

Instantly enters “dad leader” mode.

"Do you want a heating pad? I’ll go get it. And I’m ordering food. No arguments."

Tucks you into bed like you’re made of glass. He insists you don’t lift a finger.

Holds you in his lap with your back against his chest and rubs your stomach gently.

Tries to distract you by showing you videos of puppies or TikToks.

JEONGHAN — mischievous but soft

At first: “It’s just a period, baby.”

Ten minutes later, he’s got you in his arms like “my baby is suffering 😭"

Teases you lightly just to make you smile but immediately apologizes if you frown.

Offers to brush your hair and brings you chocolate like he’s sneaking drugs past security.

Sits through whatever show or K-drama you want to watch, no complaints.

JOSHUA — the perfect balance

Knows the cycle like a calendar. Has supplies ready before you even ask.

“I made you peppermint tea. It helps with cramps.”

Gives you gentle massages and wraps both of you in a soft blanket cocoon.

Makes breakfast in bed and feeds you strawberries.

Sweet forehead kisses and constant soft “you’re doing so well” praise.

JUN — the lowkey

Doesn’t make a big fuss, but does everything right.

Cooks warm, comforting meals like congee or ramen.

Quietly slides a heating pad under your back while you’re curled up.

Puts on a fantasy movie and lets you lie on his chest while stroking your hair.

If your cramps are bad, he’ll Google remedies and say “Don’t worry. I got you.”

HOSHI — the sunshine (1)

Tries to make you laugh to distract you: “Let me dance away your cramps!”

Brings you a plushie army and says “they’ll guard you while I go make soup.”

Worries more than necessary: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital??”

Tries (and fails) to make pancakes in the shape of hearts.

Wants cuddles and won’t let you move: “Just lay here with me, I’ll make the pain go away.”

WONWOO — the quiet comfort

Sits beside you in bed while reading his book, hand in yours the whole time.

Lets you lie in his lap and quietly reads to you or plays soft music.

Will write a list of all the things he can do to help you. Seriously.

Buys extra snacks and pads and hides them around the house “just in case.”

Massages your lower back with gentle, warm hands until you drift off.

WOOZI — the secretly sweet one

Grumbles a little like “you should take better care of yourself,” but he’s actually worried sick.

Will give up his studio time to stay by your side.

Makes homemade ginger tea and grumpily says, “Don’t complain. Drink it. It’s good for you.”

Strokes your hair while you nap and adjusts the blanket on you every 20 minutes.

Kisses your forehead before whispering, “I hate seeing you like this…”

THE8 — the healing presence

Immediately lights candles and sets a calming mood.

Offers to do meditation or slow stretches with you to ease the cramps.

“Let me run you a bath, it’ll help.”

Speaks softly and strokes your cheek until you calm down.

Gets philosophical: “Pain is temporary. But love? That’s forever.” (yes he’d say this. Not really, but wtv)

MINGYU — the kitchen boyfriend

Chef mode: pancakes, hot chocolate, ramen, cookies — he makes it all.

Constantly checks on you: “Need water? Snacks? My soul?”

Cuddles you on the couch while watching cartoons and says, “You’re so cute even when you’re grumpy.”

Kisses your tummy

Tries to help but panics if you suddenly wince: “Do I need to call someone!?”

DK — the sunshine (2)

Brings a smile no matter how awful you feel.

“Okay, so you’re cramping, bloated, AND moody? Let me love you harder.”

Plays your favorite songs on guitar and sings to you.

Builds a pillow fort and declares it your “Period Palace.”

Makes dumb jokes until you laugh through the pain.

SEUNGKWAN — the emotional support

Panics at first but turns into the ultimate comfort boyfriend.

Brings you a weighted blanket and insists you take it easy.

Distracts you with gossip and dramatic storytelling: “And THEN you won’t believe what Hoshi did—”

Keeps tissues nearby if you cry during a commercial.

Gives a hundred kisses on your temple and says, “I wish I could take the pain for you.”

VERNON — the quiet caretaker

Notices you’re uncomfortable even before you say anything

Silently queues up your comfort show and hands you a mug of tea.

Doesn’t say much, but keeps checking if you need anything with soft eyes.

Will 100% let you cuddle him like a giant human pillow and let you fall asleep on top of him if it helps ease the pain.

Might text you a random meme while sitting 2 feet away just to make you smile.

DINO — the thoughtful baby

Very concerned and very eager to help: “Is this normal? What do I do? I Googled it.”

Learns your cycle schedule and sets reminders for himself.

Carries your bag and brings your hoodie even if you didn’t ask.

Tries to cook for you even if he’s not that good at it.

Tells you you’re strong and brave, even if you’re crying over a commercial.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[hannie-bees]

𝟹:𝟺𝟽 ᴀᴍ

The clock on your laptop screen glows faintly in the corner:

3:41 A.M.

Your fingers move steadily across the keyboard, the gentle tapping the only sound besides the occasional rustle of paper behind you. Your code is coming together — slowly, stubbornly, like a puzzle with pieces that resist being found until just the right moment. Your eyes sting a little, but your brain’s still running, still chasing logic through the loops.

Across the room, Woozi sits hunched over his desk, headphones loosely hanging around his neck, a pencil tapping lightly against a notebook filled with scribbles only he can decipher. A soft glow from his desk lamp paints the slope of his nose and the curve of his cheek in gold. His laptop screen illuminates bars of audio waves, tiny dots on a timeline, the heartbeat of whatever melody he’s birthing tonight.

He doesn’t look tired.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he. You don’t need to.

It’s been this way for the past few hours — maybe longer. You’d both drifted into your respective work zones sometime after midnight, playlists overlapping, snacks forgotten on the table between you, the room growing still as the rest of the world fell asleep without either of you noticing.

Now, at 3:41 A.M., it’s just you two and your projects and the quiet hum of comfort that lingers between people who don’t need to fill the silence to feel close.

Woozi shifts in his seat, stretching one arm overhead with a little groan. The chair creaks. You glance over your shoulder at him.

He meets your eyes for a second. No smile, no words. Just the soft recognition that you’re still here. He nods once. You nod back.

He goes back to his melody.

You go back to your code.

The lamp beside your desk flickers for a second. You tap it gently, and the light steadies. Woozi notices but doesn’t comment — just quietly pulls the blanket draped over the couch and tosses it toward you without looking away from his screen. It lands half on your head, half on your laptop. You blink at it, then tug it down and wrap it around your shoulders with a huff that makes him smirk faintly.

It smells like him. Soft detergent and a little like coffee.

Another hour passes. Maybe more.

At some point, Woozi gets up, walking barefoot and quiet toward the kitchen. The fridge hums. He returns a moment later with two cold water bottles, one of which he places silently next to your elbow. You murmur a soft “Thanks,” not bothering to look up from the lines of code you’re debugging. He doesn’t respond, just rustles back into his chair with the kind of peace that says he didn’t do it for praise.

Outside, the sky is still dark, but it’s the kind of dark that’s about to be broken — a soft hint of something bluish grey at the edge of the window. Dawn is flirting with the horizon.

You finally push back from your desk and stretch, groaning with a satisfying crack of your spine. Woozi’s pencil has been replaced by a midi controller. His headphones are on now, bobbing slightly to a beat you can’t hear, fingers tapping keys, head tilted. You could watch him like this forever — so quietly brilliant, so wrapped up in his own world, but still so tethered to yours.

Your chair rolls slightly as you stand up and pad over to him. You don’t say anything. You just lean down and rest your chin on the top of his head. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pause — just reaches up absently and laces his fingers through yours where your hand drapes down.

A few seconds pass. Then a quiet, raspy whisper:

“Almost done.”

You nod against his hair, then yawn.

“You should sleep,” he adds gently.

“I will,” you mumble. “You too.”

He doesn’t argue. Just squeezes your fingers once and keeps working.

Eventually, you crawl onto the couch, blanket and all, and lie facing his direction. You leave the lamp on — he doesn’t like working in the dark.

Somewhere around 4:20 A.M., you fall asleep to the soft clicks of his keyboard and the muffled melody of a song only he knows the ending to.

He’ll join you later. Maybe in ten minutes, maybe in two hours.

But it doesn’t matter.

You were together. Working. Dreaming. Existing.

In the same space. In the same silence.

And that was enough.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[hannie-bees]

I love your writing style‼️ I don’t know if you’ve tried a different format, but what’s your take on svt in the club, or at a happy burst day listen party bc after seeings myunghao’s clips on insta it must actually be the most fun thing on the planet and I would love to hear your thoughts. Sending lots of love xx

OMG anon you have no idea how much this made my day 🥹💕 thank you for being so sweet!! And YES. Hao at the Happy Burst Day party was out there having the time of his life

Also I haven’t tried this format before, but now I’m tempted, because imagine this

SEVENTEEN at the club:

Jeonghan disappears the moment everyone walks in. No one knows where he went—until an hour later, when he returns with glitter on his face, three VIP wristbands, and a guy named Leo who “owes him a favor.”

Seungcheol tries to keep everyone together but is the first one to down a shot and dramatically yell “IT’S A CELEBRATION!” like he’s at the Oscars.

Minghao? Full fashion show mode. He’s not even dancing with the crowd—he’s floating through them. Somehow the club lights hit him like spotlight cues and he’s just… radiant. You blink and he’s on the bar counter, spinning.

Mingyu spills half a cocktail on his shirt but insists it’s fine and continues to flirt with three people at once while trying to open a champagne bottle he definitely shouldn’t be holding.

Vernon quietly disappears to the DJ booth and suddenly the music switches to a remix of something you swear only exists in his SoundCloud drafts. He acts chill but he’s having the time of his life watching everyone vibe.

DK’s on the dance floor making friends with everyone. The bouncers? Love him. The bartender? Just gave him a free shot. The girl crying in the bathroom? He’s got her number and promised to text her a daily affirmation.

Meanwhile, Woozi’s pretending to hate it—sitting in a dark booth sipping soda—but he’s watching everyone with the tiniest smile like “yeah, this is my circus.”

Anyway. I might write something chaotic for this one day. Thank you again for this ask and the love 🥹🫶 sending it right back to you ♡♡

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[hannie-bees]

Pieces of you || c.hs

Pairing: Vernon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, domestic, romantic, comfort

WC: 1.9K

Theme: Its your 2nd anniversary and you gift your bf a jar of 100 reasons why you love him. 

Song Recommendation: 10000 Hours

Two years.

You’d been with Vernon for two whole years.

And yet, somehow, when your anniversary rolled around, your brain decided to take a vacation. The “what to get him” panic had set in early—weeks of browsing, scrolling through Pinterest boards titled “Anniversary Gift Ideas for Your Lowkey Emotional Musician Boyfriend", and endless Etsy deep-dives later, you caved and bought him a Rolex.

Now…

You were this close to a breakdown.

It was two nights before your second anniversary with Vernon, and you were dramatically sprawled across the living room carpet, surrounded by Google tabs, half-finished card drafts, and a fancy black velvet box from the Rolex boutique that now made you want to scream.

“Why did I do this?” You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face. “It’s so low-effort boyfriend-gift-core.”

To be fair, you’d panicked. Vernon had mentioned once in passing that he admired classic timepieces, and your brain short-circuited into: oh my god, fancy anniversary = man + watch = love. But the more you stared at the sleek, expensive thing, the more you hated it.

Because Vernon wasn’t a Rolex kind of boyfriend.

He was the boyfriend who saved the last bite of every snack for you even if he was starving. The boyfriend who left you post-it notes with doodled hearts on mornings he had early schedules. The boyfriend who wordlessly held you until your anxiety stopped clawing at your throat. Who remembered you liked your toast golden brown and your strawberry milk with extra ice cubes.

A watch didn’t cover all that. He deserved more.

And that's how you found yourself in your sweats, surrounded by crumpled sticky notes and a half-eaten box of cookies, trying to figure out how to tell him what he meant to you.

That’s when it clicked.

Words. Words were always the answer.

He’d once told you that you had a way of making ordinary things feel important, and maybe—just maybe—writing them down would remind him how much of your life he lit up.

You counted out a hundred sticky notes. Soft pastels in a mix of pinks, blues, and greens. And you began writing.

Your gummy smile. The first thing I fell for. It’s unfair. You smile, and I forget how to function.

The way you think. You process the world so gently and deeply—it makes me fall in love every day.

The way you love. Not loud, not flashy. Just right. Just… you. You don’t say it often, but you show it, always.

You understand me—even when I don’t make sense. Especially when I don’t.

You’re patient. With my bad days. My weird moods. You never make me feel wrong for needing time. You just… get me. You listen between the words.

You never make me feel stupid. Not when I forget things. Not when I panic. You just hold space.

You’re weird. The good kind. The dancing-in-the-kitchen, talking-to-cats, doing-a-fake-British-accent kind. The I’m-gonna-marry-you kind.

You send me memes when I’m upset. Usually cursed ones. It works.

You’re honest. Always. Even when it’s awkward or hard.

You give me the aux cord without even asking.

You laugh at my bad jokes like they deserve Oscars.

You kiss my forehead when I overthink.

You listen. Like, really listen. Like, “remembers things I said 4 months ago while half-asleep” listen.

You let me take the first bite of your food even when you’re starving.

You say, “Text me when you get home,” even if I’m just going to the convenience store.

You kept going, hour after hour. You wrote them curled up on the couch, with lo-fi playing and your legs tangled in a blanket you stole from his side of the bed. You wrote them the next morning, stirring pancake batter with one hand and scribbling thoughts with the other.

Each note was like a breadcrumb trail back through your relationship. The quiet mornings. The messy fights. The making up. The comfort.

The you-and-him-ness of it all.

27. You let me warm my hands on your stomach in winter, even though you hate it.

39. You rap under your breath when you’re concentrating. I pretend not to notice. You pretend not to see me smiling.

41. You never let go first during hugs.

57. You carry my bags without making a show of it.

69. You tell me “I love you” like it’s a fact, not a performance.

72. You say “I got you” instead of “it’s okay.” And somehow it feels like both.

88. You’re just… you. And that’s more than enough.

99. You remembered I always wanted to be seen. You saw me. Even when I couldn’t see myself.

100. You’re my safe place. My home. My favorite person.

You folded each sticky note carefully into a tiny square, dropping them into a clear jar one by one until it was full—your love made tangible, note by note, word by word.

___

Anniversary Morning

You woke before Vernon did, still tangled up in the shared comforter. His hand was loosely curled on your waist, chest rising and falling in that steady, sleepy rhythm that always grounded you.

You turned slightly to look at him.

His features were soft with sleep, lips parted just barely, hair tousled and flopping into his eyes. Your eyes trailed down to the tiny mole near his cheek—the one he always forgot he had until you kissed it and your heart squeezed.

Happy anniversary, you whispered in your mind. To the boy who doesn’t need to say much to make you feel everything.

___

You gave him the Rolex first.

He blinked at the box, then at you. “...Babe.”

“What?” you said with a grin. “You love watches.”

He opened it slowly, then whistled. “Okay, I do. But this is—this is a lot.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You deserve nice things.”

He leaned in, kissing your cheek with a quiet, “Thank you, really,” but you could tell from the way he pulled you into his side that he knew something was up.

___

Later that Evening

The sun was setting, casting honey-colored light through the apartment windows. You stood awkwardly in the living room, the jar tucked behind your back, your stomach flipping.

He was lounging on the couch in a hoodie and sweats, the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, a bowl of cereal in his lap even though it was almost dinner time. He looked up when you stepped in.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly.

Then, without a word, you walked over and placed the jar on the coffee table in front of him, before diving onto the couch, grabbing a throw pillow, and hiding behind it like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

He stared at the jar. Then at you. Then back at the jar decorated with little cloud stickers and a label that simply read: 100 Reasons I Love You (and Counting)…

His brow furrowed slightly as he set his cereal aside and picked it up. “What’s this?”

Your voice was muffled behind the pillow. “Read it.”

He opened the lid and pulled out one of the tiny folded notes, unfolding it carefully.

1. Your gummy smile.

The reason I fell for you. It makes everything else feel softer.

You peeked out from behind the pillow.

He blinked. Then pulled out another.

2. The way you think.

You have such a beautiful way with words; I could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored.

And another.

 3. The way you love.

Not loud, not performative. But steady, gentle. I always feel it. You don’t need to say a thing.

By the time he’d reached the fifth one—

5. Your patience.

You’ve never made me feel stupid for not knowing something. You make me feel safe enough to ask.

—His hand had slowed.

He looked over at you, eyes glassy.

“YN… What is this?”

You hugged the pillow tighter to your chest. “I felt like a Rolex wasn’t enough, too boring. So I made this too. It’s a hundred reasons why I love you.”

Vernon stared at the jar in his hands like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched.

Then he laughed softly, almost breathless, shaking his head in disbelief. “You wrote me a hundred love notes.”

“Every single one?”

“Every single one.”

You mumbled from behind the pillow, “It was either that or a custom rap verse about how hot your hands are. I figured this was less embarrassing.”

He laughed, soft and disbelieving, and then took another.

 12. You send me random memes in the middle of the day, and somehow they’re always exactly what I needed.

Like, you just know.

18. You never force me to talk when I’m not ready. You just sit next to me. That’s more comforting than anything.

29. The way you rub your thumb over the back of my hand when we’re holding hands. You probably don’t even notice you do it.

He swallowed, and his voice came out a little choked. “You remembered all these things?”

“Of course I did,” you whispered. “They’re pieces of you. How could I forget? ”

38. You tell me you’re proud of me—even when I haven’t done much.

43. Your hoodie always smells like you, and I secretly steal it when you leave for the studio.

52. You once offered to watch a horror movie just because I wanted to, and you ended up hiding behind my pillow. Adorable.

 68. You once said, “You’re my favorite place to be.” I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

He pulled another one out, smiling through teary eyes.

Then he got to one that made him pause.

 73. That night you thought I’d leave you… I wish I’d told you then how wrong you were.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m always here.

He paused at number 73. His hands stopped moving. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the sound of his breath.

He looked at you then, completely undone, the kind of emotion that Vernon rarely let the world see.

Gently setting the jar aside, he leaned over and tugged the pillow away from your face.

“Babe,” he whispered. “Come here.”

You climbed into his lap with a shy smile, arms looping around his neck.

His hands cradled your waist. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”

You tucked your face into his neck, grinning. “Only when it comes to you.”

He laughed, pulling you in tighter. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Like, ever.”

You pulled back slightly, brushing his hair out of his face. “I just needed you to know. In case I don’t say it enough. I love you. A lot.”

His eyes searched for yours, warm and shining. “You show it in a hundred ways every day. I just have proof now.”

He kissed your forehead.

Then your cheek.

Then, finally, your lips—slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

___

Bonus:

He started carrying one note in his wallet every day like a lucky charm.

Whenever he traveled, you’d get a photo—your jar of pastel notes sitting right on his nightstand.

And six months later, you opened your laptop to find a document named Reasons I Love You: Draft Version 1. He never let you read it. Not then.

But a year later, he printed it out. Bound it like a book. Gave it to you on your third anniversary.

The title?

Chapter 1 of Forever.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[hannie-bees]

I miss jeonghan so so so much like omg😔 i keep rewatching Svt record esp ep 9 and 10. Jeonghan in those are just peak like handsomeness and vibes. And it makes me imagine of what a like a walk with jeonghan in the summer night sky would be like or to watch his play basketball or football ball with his members and he’s like ay. The thought is just AHAHAH. I miss my dude fr and felt like come back homeeee. Anyways thanks for reading my rant🫶🏽

Summer Nights ☾

Tysmm for sending this ask & YES i totally get wym we all miss him Also im really sorry if this took long cuz i couldn't see when exactly u sent this n i didn’t have my notifs on :((

Wc: 1015

The summer air wrapped around you like a warm blanket, thick with the scent of grass and something sweet blooming nearby. The cicadas had quieted down, and the moon was high — pale and watchful above the rows of streetlights that lined the quiet residential road. Your fingers brushed against Jeonghan’s as you walked side by side, arms swinging in a relaxed, lazy rhythm neither of you felt the need to rush.

It was late. But it didn’t feel like it. Not with him.

“Why do nights feel longer in summer?” you asked out of nowhere.

Jeonghan tilted his head, looking up at the stars. “Maybe because we don’t want them to end.”

You smiled at that. “That’s deep.”

“I’m a deep guy.”

“You’re chaotic.”

He gasped like you’d offended his honor. “Excuse you. I’m soft and mysterious.”

You snorted. “You’re soft. I’ll give you that. But mysterious? Please. I can read you like an open book with doodles in the margins.”

He laughed, shoulder bumping gently into yours. “Fine. So you know me. That’s not a bad thing, right?”

You looked over at him, the silver moonlight catching on his lashes, his hair slightly ruffled from the breeze. His profile was relaxed, a little flushed from the warmth. His hand brushed yours again, more deliberately this time.

“No. It’s not,” you said quietly. “I like knowing you.”

He turned his head slightly, eyes meeting yours in that easy, unspoken way he always did when the world got a little quieter.

Jeonghan didn’t need grand gestures. Sometimes it felt like he was made for these moments, soft, in-between spaces, where he didn’t have to perform or lead or joke unless he wanted to. Where he could just be.

You paused under a tree that cast dappled shadows across the sidewalk. A little further ahead, the city lights faded, giving way to a clearer stretch of sky. He caught your wrist lightly, tugging you off the pavement and toward a narrow, grassy hill.

“Come on. Let’s sit.”

“You wanna stargaze?”

“No, I want to talk to the squirrels.”

You gave him a look.

“Yes,” he grinned, tugging you again. “Stargaze.”

You followed him up the slope and plopped down beside him, grass tickling your ankles. The world felt further away from here, the sounds of cars muted, the sky massive above you.

He leaned back on his elbows, gaze fixed upward. “That one’s Orion,” he said, pointing lazily.

“That’s the Big Dipper.”

“Is it?”

“I think so.”

You both stared up at the sky like it held all the answers.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t in SEVENTEEN?” you asked, tone quiet.

Jeonghan didn’t respond right away. “Sometimes,” he said finally. “I think I’d still be searching for something to love. Something to throw myself into.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Do you still love it? Even with how busy it gets?”

He smiled, soft and a little tired. “Yeah. I love it. It’s just... sometimes, I wish I had more nights like this.”

“With me?”

“With you. With anyone who lets me breathe a little.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, and he let you, the slope of his body familiar and warm.

“You’re always working so hard,” you murmured.

“I’m not the only one.”

“Yeah, but you forget to take care of yourself.”

Jeonghan looked down at you. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

You nudged him gently. “You can’t rely on me for everything.”

“Why not? You’re good at reminding me I’m human.”

Your heart squeezed at that.

The silence stretched comfortably again, filled with the soft chorus of the summer night and the occasional chirp of crickets.

“Do you miss your pre-debut days?” you asked.

“Sometimes,” he said. “When things were simpler. But I don’t think I’d go back. I’ve grown. We all have. And I’ve got better things now.”

You tilted your face up. “Like stargazing on grassy hills?”

“Exactly. And the company.”

He turned toward you a little more, and before you could think too much, he reached up to gently brush your hair back, his fingers lingering at your temple.

“You look good in moonlight,” he said, voice soft enough to make you pause.

“You say that like I don’t look good in daylight.”

He grinned. “You look dangerous in daylight. Distracting.”

“Oh? But in moonlight I’m just—?”

“Beautiful,” he said simply.

You looked down at your hands, cheeks warm. “You’re really saying that now? When I’m in sweats and sneakers and haven’t brushed my hair since noon?”

He reached for your hand and laced your fingers together. “Especially now. When you’re just you.”

There was a kind of truth in his voice that made you hold your breath.

“You’re annoying sometimes,” you said.

He chuckled. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

The stars above didn’t twinkle like in the movies, they pulsed, quietly alive, like they were listening in.

And beside you, Jeonghan was just a boy under the sky, tired and soft and impossibly yours for a moment that stretched endlessly into summer.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[hannie-bees]

Sad Bread || c.hs

Pairing: Vernon × reader

« You wake up to your bf eating sad lonely bread like he isn't loved. »

Wc: 861

Genre: fluff

You woke up to silence.

The room was quiet, unusually so, save for the occasional shuffle of movement from the kitchen. You blinked sleep from your eyes, recalling just how late you’d stayed up working last night. Your limbs were still heavy, your brain foggy. You rolled over instinctively to find an empty spot where Vernon usually curled beside you.

He must’ve let you sleep in.

That’s when the faint sounds reached your ears—the clink of a plate, the dull scrape of a butter knife.

You yawned, pulling on a hoodie as you padded into the kitchen. You were expecting him to be cooking something, maybe even reheating leftovers.

And then you saw him.

Vernon. Sitting at the breakfast table. Shoulders hunched, hair still messy, eyes half-lidded as he stared mournfully at the single slice of bread in his hand. Next to him: a half-empty jar of jam and a butter knife. No toast. No eggs. Just... a sad, plain slice of bread.

He looked up when you entered—and you swore you saw his ears droop like a cartoon puppy caught doing something pitiful.

“Morning,” he mumbled, caught mid-bite.

Your heart cracked.

“Han,” you said, voice already trembling with offense. “Are you eating sad dry bread right now?”

He blinked. “I didn’t want to wake you. You were up really late...”

You stood there in the doorway for a beat, just staring. This wasn’t just any breakfast. This was the breakfast of someone who had lost all hope. Of someone who had resigned themselves to fate. He looked like a soaked puppy left at the doorstep of your heart, nibbling bread like it was the only thing left in the world.

You crossed the kitchen in a flash and stood beside him. “Vernon. Look at me.”

He hesitated but turned, crumbs still on his lips. You gently cupped his face in your hands. His cheeks were warm and soft, and his eyes were confused, but quietly pleased at the attention.

“Never do that again,” you whispered seriously. “Never eat sad, flavorless bread in front of me like a lonely little orphan.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shh.” You pressed your forehead to his, then kissed him there softly. “This is a no-dry-bread household. Especially not for you.”

He blinked, looking like he was torn between laughing and melting.

“You looked like a puppy,” you muttered, ruffling his hair before standing. “An abandoned one. It physically hurt me.”

“I wasn’t trying to be dramatic.”

“You weren’t trying,” you echoed, already pulling out the pancake mix. “And yet here we are.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he watched you. “You really don’t have to—”

“I want to. Sit. I’m making breakfast for both of us.”

He obeyed, a little stunned, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself now that he was no longer stuck with jail-food-level bread.

You moved easily through the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl, mixing batter, and heating up the pan. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon started to fill the air as you added little touches—pushing your sleep-mussed hair out of your face, tapping your foot as you waited for the pancake bubbles to pop.

Behind you, Vernon leaned his chin on his hand, just… watching.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“You are helping. You’re existing. That’s all I need from you today. Just sit there and look pretty.”

He smiled, small but real.

Soon enough, pancakes were stacking on a plate, syrup was ready, and you dropped fresh strawberries into the blender with ice cream and milk. The whirring filled the kitchen like a happy hum, and Vernon’s face lit up when he saw the pink swirl.

“You made a milkshake?”

“For us. I’m not gonna sit here and drink something cute while you gnaw on bread.”

“I feel like this is a full-on intervention.”

“It is. And it’s not over yet.”

You set the plates and tall glasses down at the table, nudging him gently. “Eat. Like a loved man.”

He laughed, shaking his head as you both sat down. “You’re too good to me.”

“Someone has to be. You clearly weren’t being good to yourself.”

He picked up a fork, took a bite, and then let out a noise so soft and satisfied it made your heart do a little flip.

“I missed this,” he said between bites. “Us eating together.”

You smiled around a strawberry. “Then don’t skip it next time just because I sleep in. If I catch you eating sad bread again, I swear…”

“What? You’ll cry?”

“Worse. I’ll film it and send it to your mom. Caption it: ‘Look what your son’s resorted to.’”

He snorted mid-chew. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He leaned over the table, brushing a crumb off your cheek with his thumb. “Thanks for this,” he said quietly.

You looked at him for a long moment, your heart warm and full. “Anytime. Always.”

You clinked your milkshake glasses together like it was toast, and dug into breakfast, wrapped in the kind of comfort that only came from being with someone who made even jam and bread emergencies feel soft and funny in the end.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[hannie-bees]

With every sunrise ☼ᨒ

Req by @teddy08-09

A/n: This was my first ask n I did my best i hope it met ur expectations :)

Trope: Marriage proposal!!

Masterlist

You always knew Seokmin loved hard. Loved with his whole chest, his laughter ringing loud, his hugs tight, and his eyes sparkling with every bit of affection he felt. But in the quieter moments, when he thought you weren’t looking, his love turned soft. Gentle. Reverent.

That’s why it didn’t surprise you that he woke you up at 5:00 a.m. on a Saturday with a stupidly wide grin and a hot cup of coffee.

“What?” you groaned into your pillow. “Why is it still night? Why are you smiling like that? What’s happening?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm in the stillness of your shared bedroom. “Trust me. Just... come with me. Please?”

You mumbled a soft curse but got up anyway. Because it was Seokmin, and you’d follow him anywhere.

---

You didn’t ask questions when he helped you into a hoodie and passed you one of his beanies. You didn’t ask when he led you out the door and into the car, nor when he started driving through the still-sleeping streets, humming along to the soft tunes on the radio.

But when you pulled up to the beach, your beach, the one you’d gone to on your third date and again on your first anniversary, you glanced at him, suspicious. “Are you planning to bury me in the sand? Is that why you made me wake up for this?”

He laughed, that bright full-belly sound you loved so much, and took your hand. “You’re so dramatic. Come on.”

The sky was still dark, navy blue fading into pale grey as he led you down to the shore. The wind was brisk, and your breath formed little clouds in the air. Seokmin walked a little ahead of you, eyes scanning the sand with laser focus.

“Ah. There it is,” he exclaimed, bolting forward.

He’d set up a small blanket. Well, several blankets actually. Pillows too. And a little picnic basket sat in the center. There were fairy lights twinkling faintly in the sand, struggling against the breeze but doing their best. It was cozy. Intimate. So very him.

You raised a brow. “Okay, this is... suspiciously cute.”

“Sit, sit,” he urged, pulling you down beside him. “You’ll miss it.”

And right on cue, the sky began to change.

Pink. Orange. Gold.

The sun peeked over the horizon, painting the ocean with molten light, and you forgot about how early it was, forgot about your freezing toes, forgot everything because Seokmin’s face, bathed in sunrise, was too beautiful to look away from.

He didn’t look at the sky.

He only looked at you.

“What?” you whispered, a little breathless.

He smiled, suddenly quiet. “Do you remember our third date?”

You blinked. “Yeah. You took me here. We brought instant noodles in thermoses.”

“And we ate them sitting right here,” he nodded. “You spilled yours all over your jeans and I gave you mine.”

“And you refused to let me pay you back,” you added, grinning. “Even though you only got one bite of the food you bought.”

“I told you then,” he said softly, “that I’d never regret sharing things with you.”

Your throat caught.

“I knew back then,” he continued, voice tender, “that I wanted to share a lot more than noodles with you. My life. My mornings. My music. My worst days and my best ones. I wanted to be the one who brings you coffee, who hears your sleepy grumbles, who holds you when you’re cold, who laughs when you say weird things at 3 a.m.”

You blinked fast. The sun was almost fully up now, washing everything in gold. You weren’t ready. You so weren’t ready.

“And the thing is,” he said, pulling something out of the picnic basket. It was a small photo album, filled with pictures of you both over the years. “You’ve already given me that. You’ve given me everything I ever wanted.”

You opened the album, hands trembling slightly. Each page had a picture and a caption, scribbled in his handwriting.

Our first trip together.

Your birthday—look at your smile.

When you comforted me after I cried during a drama (don’t deny it).

The time you danced in the kitchen like no one was watching. I was. I always am.

Our worst fight. Our biggest laugh. The quiet mornings. The loud karaoke nights.

Our life.

By the last page, your hands were shaking.

He reached into the basket again and this time, it was a small velvet box.

He turned to you, eyes soft, full of love.

“Life with you isn’t perfect,” he said. “But it’s mine. And it’s full. And it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your hands flew to your mouth as he opened the box, revealing the simplest, most beautiful ring you’d ever seen.

“Will you marry me?” he asked. “Will you keep watching sunrises with me for the rest of our lives?”

There were tears. Obviously.

You tackled him in a hug first, knocking him flat into the blankets as he let out a shocked laugh. You kissed his face and nodded over and over, finally managing a choked-out, “Yes, yes, of course, yes.”

When you finally sat up, teary-eyed and smiling, he slipped the ring onto your finger, hands a little shaky from nerves and cold.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered.

“You’re perfect,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

And there, under the rising sun with the waves crashing softly nearby, you knew he’d been your home all along.

[hannie-bees]

Hi hi~ I'm Rue n I'm new to writing and just dipping my toes into posting here!

Also im taking asks, mostly fluff n angst but I'll start with smut soon so hit me up anytime n I'll try my best :b

♡♡♡