⋮ ⌗ ┆synopsis: in a dim pub where nights blur together, park sungho, a bartender, and you, a waitress, slowly drift into something unspoken and fragile, until life begins to hint at an ending neither of you is ready to name.
⋮ ⌗ ┆warnings: angst, angst, angst. , drinking / alcohol, unconsented touching, skinship, death, profanity, kissing, intended lowercase, female reader (do inform me if I missed anything)
⋮ ⌗ ┆word count: 2.5k
⋮ ⌗ ┆authors note: this oneshot is specially dedicated to @yumangel !! <33 thank you to @myungmyng for proofreading this oneshots plot for me!! <33 it's my first time tackling angst so it's not extreme angst but I did have a lot of fun (and arm cramps) writing this!! I hope you enjoy reading this too!! <33
ᛝ now playing: forever you by boynextdoor
back to masterlist | reblogs and comments highly valued~~
there are nights that don’t end when they are supposed to and others that before anyone realises, they have already started ending. everything moves as it always has, glass against wood, laughter spilling into corners too dark, footsteps tracing the same tired patterns across the floor. though, something underneath it all feels weird but no one stops to fix it and no one thinks to. yet somewhere in the ordinary rhythm of it all, there is a quiet certainty that nothing here will stay untouched forever. not the names spoken across the bar. not the hands that almost reach, then don’t. because some goodbyes don’t arrive loudly. they wait.. until they are finally called by name.
⌗ ┆more below the cut!!;
the pub never felt fully alive in the way people expected it to be. it wasn’t the music or the laughter or even the warm taste of alcohol. it was something quieter, in the pauses between orders and the way time seemed to drag its feet whenever park sungho stood behind the bar. he learned your shifts before he even learned your name properly. learned the tune that you hum before he ever let himself look for too long. and every night as he poured drinks with steady hands and a blank expression, his eyes would still drift, betraying him, towards you. and always, without fail, there would be men who looked at you like you were part of the menu. hungry eyes that didn’t belong to hunger at all. lust. sungho would tighten his grip on the bottle of alcohol until it stopped feeling like glass.
after closing time, the pub emptied itself of strangers. sungho would wait outside, hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, acting as if he just happened to be leaving at the same time as you, every night. and every single night, he would walk you home. it became a quiet habit before it became a decision. the streets after 3am felt different, less loud. the world shrank into the space between your steps, with the soft glow of streetlights. you talked sometimes. other nights, you didn’t. but the silence between the two of you was never empty.
he learned the small details without asking for them. the way you hugged your coat tighter when the wind turned sharp. the way your apartment was too small for someone who carried so much of the night on their shoulders. somewhere along these walks, sungho stopped thinking of it as protection and started realising it was something worse. something much softer. something that stayed even after he told himself it shouldn’t. he didn’t notice the exact moment it changed. only that one night, when you reached your door and turned back to say goodbye, he found himself hoping, unreasonably hoping, that you would look at him longer. and when you did, he finally understood. he was already falling. too deep. too fast.
it happened on a night that looked no different from the others. same dim lights. same vinyl records. same people drinking their asses off. sungho noticed him the moment he walked in, the burly man who laughed too loudly, drank too fast, and looked at you like lust was the only thing he knew. at first, it was just another uneasy presence in the room, one of many. sungho told himself not to stare too long, he told himself it wasn't his place.
but then he saw the way the man kept calling you over, the way his hand lingered a second too long when you handed him a drink, the way you smile tightened at the edges. and then, too suddenly, too wrong, sungho saw him cross a line. the man called you over again, and this time when you leaned in to place the drink down, his hand didnt stop where it should have, it slid up your thigh. then further. your breath caught so sharply it hurt, body freezing as if it had forgotten how to move. “hey–” you managed, barely. but it wasn’t loud enough. it never was in moments like this. across the room, sungho saw it. something in him snapped.
a strange hollow stillness filled him like everything inside him had gone too quiet to function properly. then he was moving. out from behind the bar, through the noise, straight towards the table without thinking long enough to regret it. a punch landed before anyone could understand what was happening. the man stumbled back, chair crashing, shock snapping into rage almost instantly. “who the hell do you think you are?” he spat, already pushing forward again.
“don’t touch her.” sungho said. his voice wasn’t loud and that was what made it worse. someone grabbed his arm, someone shouted his name. the pub erupted, chairs scraping, voices rising and security rushing. sungho didn’t step back, he hit him again. and again. not because he wanted to fight but because he couldn’t unsee what he had seen. and through it all, you finally found your voice, “sungho– stop!”
he turned immediately. like you were the only sound he could still hear. he looked lost, breathing unevenly, knuckles red. “i’m sorry.” he said quickly, “i saw him touching you and i– i couldn’t just stand there–” your hands were trembling, you hated that they were. “you’re going to get fired..” you said. “i don’t care,” he answered instantly.
something in your chest tightened, because that was exactly the problem. you stepped forward without thinking, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into the breakroom. “idiot,” you muttered, though your voice wasn’t sharp. it wasn’t an insult, it was something softer pretending to be one.
sungho sat on the back chair near the storage room, still tense. you found the first aid kit and when you came back, he looked up at you like he wanted to say something but decided against it. “let me see.” you said simply. he hesitated. then, slowly, he held his hand out. you knelt in front of him, careful as you cleaned the cuts. the silence between you was heavy, full of everything neither of you knew how to put into words yet. he watched your face more than he watched your hands.
“you shouldn’t be here,” he said suddenly. your fingers paused, “what?” “this job,” he said, jaw tightening slightly. “this place.. you shouldn’t have to deal with people like that.. you deserve better than.. all of this.. you could leave, you could just– walk away.” he frowned. “and go where?” you asked softly. that made him stop. your hands moved carefully again, wrapping the bandage around his knuckles. your knee brushing his. sungho noticed, of course he did. the air between you shifted undeniably.
“you did it for me..” you said. his throat moved slightly as he swallowed, “i would do it again.” that broke the silence. or maybe deepened it. you didn’t realise you were leaning in until you were already too close to pretend it was accidental. sungho didn’t move away. he looked like he was waiting, like he had been waiting for too long to stop it now. when you kissed him, it wasn’t the usual gentle way people expect first kisses to be. it was full of everything unspoken, too careful and too desperate at the same time. his uninjured hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. for a moment, nothing else existed.
then you pulled away first. breathing unevenly. eyes not quite steady. you stood up too quickly, “i should go,” you said. his brows furrowed slightly, “wait–” but you were already stepping back and avoiding his eyes. sungho didn’t stop you and just watched. like he knew you were leaving before you even stood up. and this time, the silence felt like something cracked open.
the next few days felt wrong in a way sungho couldn’t explain properly. at first, he told himself it was normal. people took time off, shifts change. but then a second day passed, then a third. and your name stopped appearing on the chart entirely. on the fourth day, he finally asked. the boss didn’t look at him for long before answering. just a tired glance, a shrug that carried too much meaning. “she resigned, didn’t say much,” he said flatly.
sungho didn’t remember leaving the pub after that conversation. only the feeling that his body had already started moving before his mind agreed to it. your apartment looked smaller than usual. he stood across the street for a long time before crossing over, like he was afraid the closer he got, the less real it would become. he peeked through your window, no light inside, no movement, no sign that anyone was home. he knocked anyway. ddok ddok ddok. nothing. then the door beside your apartment opened. an elderly woman peeked out, eyes narrowing slightly in cautious curiosity before softening when she saw him. “you looking for her? she asked. “ah– yeah.. is she home?” sungho asked.
the woman hesitated. the she sighed, shaking her head. “oh dear.. she hasn’t been home for a while,” she said gently, “you must be someone from her work..” sungho’s throat tightened, “do you know where she is?”
at that, her expression changed slightly, something quieter, more careful, “she’s in the hospital.. been there for a while now..” the word didn’t land properly at first. hospital. it stayed suspended between them, refusing to turn into meaning. sungho stared at her, unblinking. “...hospital?” he repeated. the woman nodded slowly, “yes.. i think they tried contacting family but–” she stopped when she saw his face but sungho was already moving before she could finish.
sungho didn’t think. he just ran. the streets blurred into each other under the flicker of streetlights, each steps hitting harder than the last like his body was trying to outrun something it already knew was coming. he didn’t feel the pain in his lungs at first. didn’t feel the ache and burn in his legs. only the sharp, relentless urgency in his chest that refused to slow down. hospital. the word kept repeating in his head like a broken alarm. hospital. hospital. hospital. and with it came fragments he hadn’t asked for, memories that surfaced violently as he ran. you standing by the counter, like exhaustion sat heavier on your shoulders than you let on. the faint way your hand would tremble when you thought no one was looking. the nights you smiled anyway. the nights you didn’t. he pushed harder.
glass doors came into view, he stumbled inside, breath ragged, immediately approaching the front desk. “Y/n L/n..” he said, voice breaking before he control it. “I– I’m looking for her.. i’m one of her emergency contacts from work..” the receptionist checked the system then directed him upstairs. sungho didn’t remember the elevator ride, only the sound of his own heartbeat, too loud, too fast, like it was trying to warn him. a doctor met him in the corridor, not rushed, not confused, just still. too still. and sungho knew, even before a word was spoken, that something inside the world had already changed shape. “where is she? is she okay?” sungho said immediately.
the silence that followed was wrong. the kind of silence that doesn’t belong in conversations about living people. the doctor’s expression softened in a way that felt unbearable. “she was suffering from lupus..” he said gently, “it was diagnosed too late.. a month ago.. we did what we could but..”
the rest didn’t come out as words. it didn’t need to.sungho stared at him, uncomprehending at first, like the sentence had been spoken in a language he used to know but had forgotten how to translate. then it hit. all at once.
“no,” he said immediately, shaking his head once, then again, as if denial could undo it. “no, that’s not– she was just here.. she was–” his voice cracked, the world tilted slightly. the doctor’s mouth moved again, something softer this time but sungho couldn’t hear properly anymore. because the only thing that existed was the sudden, impossible absence of you. his legs gave out, he collapsed onto the floor, knees hitting the cold tile, hands trembling uselessly.
“no..” he said again, but it wasn’t denial anymore. it was breaking. and for the first time, there was no anger left in him at all, only the unbearable realization that he had been running towards a moment he could never outrun.
too late.
too late.
too late.
a month later, the pub still opened at the same hour. the lights still flickered in the same tired music still spilled out into the street, and the same laughter still rose and fell like nothing had ever change. sungho still finished his shifts. still cleaned his station. still wiped down the bar until it shone under the light. still nodded at coworkers and customers who no longer asked where you were. time moved forward around him as if it had no memory of you at all.
but he did. every night, when the doors finally closed behind the last customer. sungho would step outside with the same habit he couldn’t break. same pause. same instinct. his hands would slips into his packers without thought, and his eyes would drift toward the street like he was looking for a shape the world had already erased. he would wait. not because he expected you to appear. but because some part of him still hadn’t learned how not to.
the air outside was always cooler after closing. quieter too. the kind of silence that used to belong to you both, walking side by side under streetlights that never quite reached the ground.
he stood there longer each night. until the waiting stopped feeling like waiting and started feeling like remembering. one night, he took a step forward without realising why. then stopped. his gaze fell to the empty space beside him. and just like that, it came back all at once. the walk home, the sound of your voice, the way you used to look over at him like you were still deciding whether to trust the quiet between you.
the absence hit him gently. not like the hospital. not like the floor. worse. like something that had always been there, and now wasn’t. sungho exhaled slowly. his hand tightened in his pocket then loosened again. like he couldn’t decide what to do with it.
and for a moment, he just stood there outside the pub, watching a street that no longer led anywhere he could follow. then he turned away, not because he had moved on but because there was nowhere left to wait.
he still stood outside the pub after every shift. waiting out of habit for someone who would never walk back to him again.
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. ˚◞♡ ⃗ religion's in your lips even if it's a false god 𓈒 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ
۶ৎ ALTERNATIVE : boynextdoor when you pull away while making out ۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : fluff ~ ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : yearner riwoo, long hair jaehyun, taesan pinning you to the couch (TRIPLE COMBO !!! NOT FOR THE WEAK HEART 😭🙂↕️) ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 0.8k - 1.3k words / member
۶ৎ A/N : I had to indulge my long hair jaehyun delusions so this came out of it...
ˋ ⌞⋮ SUNGHO .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
It starts innocently enough—well, as innocent as making out with Sungho can be. He's always so controlled, so measured in everything he does, and that extends to this too. His hands are gentle on your waist, his lips moving against yours with careful precision, like he's trying to memorize every detail.
But you're feeling a little bold today. A little dangerous.
So when he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle, you pull back just slightly. Not enough to fully break away, but enough that his lips chase yours for a split second before he catches himself.
His eyes flutter open, slightly dazed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What—"
You don't let him finish, leaning back in to kiss him again. He relaxes immediately, that little crease between his brows smoothing out as he cups your face with one hand. His kiss becomes more insistent, tongue sweeping against your bottom lip, and you feel his other hand slide from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer.
This time when you pull away again, you catch the exact moment confusion shifts into realization. His eyes darken considerably, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. The hand on your back flexes, fingers pressing into your skin even through your shirt.
"Are you..." he starts, voice already rough and lower than usual. He swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "Are you doing that on purpose?"
The barely restrained frustration in his tone sends heat pooling in your stomach. You try to look innocent, biting back a smile. "Doing what?"
Sungho’s jaw clenches, and you see his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, a familiar sign of him trying to steady himself. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches you with those intense dark eyes, and you can practically see him trying to maintain control.
Then slowly, deliberately, he leans back in. Both hands come up to frame your face, and the way he holds you is almost possessive. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and his eyes track the movement with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"Don't," he murmurs, and his voice has dropped even lower. It's not a request—it's a warning. "Don't pull away again."
But of course, you do.
The sound he makes is devastating, somewhere between a groan and your name, rough and frustrated. In one smooth movement, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling firmly in your hair. It's not painful, but definitely controlling. His other hand grips your hip hard enough that you feel the heat of his palm through the fabric.
"I'm trying," he breathes out, and you can hear how strained his voice is, "to be patient with you."
He pulls you closer—or maybe pushes himself closer, you're not sure—until there's no space between you at all. You can feel the heat radiating off him, feel his heart racing against your chest, feel the tension coiled tight in his muscles.
“But you keep—” He breaks himself off with a sharp breath, the words failing him. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, eyes falling shut as if he needs the contact to steady himself, as if proximity is the only thing keeping him anchored. When he opens them again, the look on his face is raw, unguarded, almost desperate. “Do you have any idea,” he asks quietly, voice strained, “what you’re doing to me?”
His hand in your hair tightens just slightly, angling your head back. The movement is controlled but barely, and you can see the exact moment his carefully maintained composure starts to crack.
"One more time," he warns, voice barely above a whisper but somehow more intense for it. His lips hover just barely above yours, so close you can feel his breath. "Pull away one more time and I won't be gentle anymore."
It should probably intimidate you, but instead it sends a thrill down your spine. You can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of restraint, can see the war between his natural control and his desire written plainly across his face.
"I'm serious," he continues, and now his lips brush against yours with every word. "I'm trying so hard to be good, to take my time, but you're making it impossible."
His hand slides from your hip to your lower back, then lower still, pulling you even more firmly against him. The kiss he gives you then is harder, more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours with clear intent. When his teeth catch your bottom lip, you gasp, and he takes full advantage, kissing you deeper until you're dizzy with it.
He pulls back just enough to speak, and his voice is absolutely wrecked. "So be good for me," he murmurs against your lips, and the please is unspoken but clear in his tone. "Stop teasing me, got it sweetheart?"
When he kisses you again, it's with single-minded focus, like kissing you is the only thing that matters in the world. His hand tightens in your hair, the other sliding under the hem of your shirt just enough that his fingers brush bare skin. The touch makes you shiver, and you feel him smile against your lips.
"That's better," he breathes, sounding almost relieved. "Much better."
This time, you don't even think about pulling away.
ˋ ⌞⋮ RIWOO .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Riwoo kisses with complete focus and surprising intensity hidden beneath a gentle exterior. His hands are soft where they rest on your waist, his lips moving against yours with careful attention, like he's trying to get every detail just right.
You almost feel bad for what you're about to do.
Almost.
When he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, you pull back just slightly. His eyes flutter open immediately, wide and confused, lips still parted. "Did I... did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, concern evident in his voice.
"No," you assure him quickly, leaning back in. "You're perfect."
He relaxes at that, a shy smile crossing his face before you kiss him again. This time he's a little more confident, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt. You feel him sigh contentedly against your lips, and that's when you pull away again.
"Oh," he breathes out, and you can see him trying to figure out what's happening. His eyebrows furrow adorably, head tilting like he's solving a puzzle. "Are you... do you need a break? We can—"
You cut him off with another kiss, and this time you feel the exact moment he realizes what you're doing. His sharp intake of breath, the way his fingers suddenly grip your waist a little tighter, the slight tremor that runs through him.
When you pull back the third time, his reaction is completely different.
“You’re teasing me,” he says, the words barely audible, more confession than accusation. His ears have gone pink, heat creeping up his neck, but his eyes give him away—there’s a new intensity there, a shadow beneath the softness you know so well. “You're doing this on purpose.”
Before you can respond, he's leaning back in, and this time his kiss is less careful. His hands slide from your waist to your back, pulling you closer with more force than you expected from him. When your lips meet, you can feel the desperation already building in the way he kisses you—deeper, more insistent, like he's trying to keep you from pulling away through sheer determination.
But you do it anyway.
"Please," he breathes out, and the sound goes straight through you. His voice is shaky, strained. "Please don't— I can't—"
He cuts himself off, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel him trembling, feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. When you look at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched like he's trying to compose himself.
"This is torture," he whispers, and there's a whine in his voice that makes your stomach flip. "You're torturing me."
His hands are restless now, one sliding up your back, fingers splaying across your shoulder blade, the other moving to your hip and squeezing. You've never seen him like this—usually so controlled, so precise in his movements, now barely holding himself together.
"Riwoo," you murmur, and his eyes snap open.
The look he gives you is devastating, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and red from all the kissing, cheeks warm with colour. It’s not just desire, but a soft, aching plea tangled with a frustration you’ve never seen on him before, unfamiliar and vulnerable, like he’s losing control that it both unsettles and exposes him.
"I need—" he starts, then stops, swallowing hard. His voice drops lower, rougher. "I need you to stop pulling away. I don't... I can't think when you do that."
To prove his point, he kisses you again, and this time there's nothing gentle about it. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he angles your face exactly how he wants it. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt, and the feeling of his palm against your bare skin makes you gasp.
He takes advantage immediately, deepening the kiss, and you feel him shaking with the effort of maintaining some semblance of control. His thumb traces patterns on your skin that make you shiver, and he makes this small sound in the back of his throat that's pure need.
When you start to pull back again, his grip tightens instantly.
"No," he says firmly, and the command in his voice surprises both of you. His eyes widen slightly, like he can't believe he just said that, but he doesn't take it back. "Stay. Please stay."
The "please" softens it, but there's still an edge of desperation that makes your heart race. He's looking at you like the thought of you pulling away again might actually break him.
"I'm trying so hard to be good," he confesses, voice cracking slightly. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel his breath hot against your neck. "But you keep— every time you pull away, I—"
He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. The hand in your hair tightens, and suddenly he's pulling your head back gently, exposing more of your neck to his lips.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dropped so low it feels almost dangerous. “To see me lose control.”
His kisses trail up your neck, along your jaw, until his lips are hovering over yours again. He's breathing hard, chest heaving, and you can see the internal war playing out across his face—the Riwoo who’s always gentle, always careful, pressed up against a need that’s sharper, more urgent, tugging insistently at his restraint.
"Well, congratulations," he whispers, and then he's kissing you again with an intensity that steals your breath. "You won."
This time when his tongue slides against yours, when his hands grip you tighter, when he presses impossibly closer, you don't even think about pulling away. You couldn't if you wanted to, not with how he's holding you, kissing you like he's been starving for it.
"No more teasing," he breathes between kisses, and it's still soft, still Riwoo, but there's steel underneath it now. "I can't take any more. Please."
And the way he says please—broken, desperate and so, so honest—makes you want to give him everything he asks for.
ˋ ⌞⋮ JAEHYUN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Jaehyun kisses like he's enjoying every second of it—which, knowing him, he absolutely is. There's a smile on his lips even as they move against yours, his hands warm and secure on your waist, thumbs tracing idle patterns that make you want to melt into him.
His hair has gotten longer recently, falling into his face as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and you can't resist reaching up to run your fingers through it. He makes a pleased sound at that, leaning into your touch.
That's when you pull away.
His eyes open slowly, still half-lidded and hazy, a confused smile playing on his lips. "Hm?"
You just smile innocently and lean back in, kissing him again before he can question it. He responds immediately, enthusiastically, one hand sliding up your back. But just as he's really getting into it, you pull away again.
This time, his eyes sharpen with understanding.
“Oh,” he says, the confusion easing as his smile shifts into a knowing curve. “Oh—I get it now.”
Before you can say anything, he's laughing that bright, delighted laugh of his. "You're messing with me right now. You're actually messing with me."
"I don't know what you mean," you try, but he's already shaking his head.
"Okay, okay," he says, still grinning. "So we're playing games? I love games."
He leans back in, but this time when you try to pull away, his hand comes up to cup your jaw, holding you in place firmly enough that you can't escape. His kiss is deeper this time, more purposeful, and you feel him smile against your lips.
Then he pulls away first.
"How does it feel?" he asks, voice teasing. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he watches your reaction with obvious amusement. "Not so fun when it happens to you, right?"
Two can play this game, apparently.
He kisses you again, and just when you're sinking into it, he breaks away with a playful smirk. "Oops."
"Jaehyun—"
"What?" He's grinning fully now, eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To play around?"
His hair falls forward into his face as he leans closer, and you reach up to brush it back without thinking. His expression shifts slightly at the touch, eyes darkening just a fraction, but the smile remains.
"You keep touching my hair," he observes, voice a little lower now. "Do you like it longer?"
Before you can answer, he's kissing you again, and this time you can feel the teasing energy start to shift more intensely. His fingers tangle in your hair, mimicking your earlier action, and when you gasp softly, he makes a satisfied sound.
You pull away again—you can't help it, it's too fun—and this time his reaction is different.
"Okay," he says, and his voice has lost some of that playful edge. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and you watch his jaw clench slightly. "Okay, you need to stop doing that."
"Why?" you ask innocently, and his eyes flash.
"Because," he says, leaning in close enough that his lips brush against yours as he speaks, "I'm trying really hard to play along and be fun about this, but you're making it really difficult."
His hair falls forward again, tickling your face, and he makes a frustrated sound. In one smooth motion, he reaches back and gathers his hair, tying it up into a small ponytail with the hair tie he keeps on his wrist. The movement makes his arms flex, his jaw set in concentration, and you can't help but stare.
He notices, of course. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to your lips. “You like that, don’t you, princess?”
He kisses you again, and with his hair out of the way, it's different—more intense, more focused. His hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you can feel the shift in his energy. The playfulness hasn’t disappeared, but beneath it is a seriousness that wasn’t there before, an insistence that asks instead of teases, that wants instead of jokes.
When you try to pull away this time, he doesn't let you.
"Nuh-uh," he murmurs against your lips. "My turn now."
His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you deeper. There's a confidence in the way he takes control, like he's done playing your game and has decided to start his own. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your skin, and you feel him smile when you shiver.
"See, the thing is," he says, pulling back just enough to speak, "I was having fun letting you tease me. It was cute." His thumb traces your jawline as his eyes lock onto yours. "But now I'm thinking about all the ways I could tease you back."
To prove his point, he kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders, and one of them tangles in his ponytail without thinking, tugging slightly.
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a laugh.
"Oh, so you can pull my hair but I can't—" He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, his hand comes up to thread through your hair, gripping gently and tilting your head back. "That's not very fair, is it?"
His lips return to your neck, kissing and biting softly, and you can feel him smiling against your skin when you gasp. “There you go,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “That’s the reaction I was looking for.”
When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are darker than before, pupils blown wide. "No more pulling away," he says, and it's not quite a command but not quite a request either. His hand tightens slightly in your hair. "You had your fun. Now let me have mine."
He kisses you again, and this time there's no teasing, no games. Just intensity, heat and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, sliding up to cup your face, back down to grip your hips.
When you instinctively try to pull back just slightly, probably out of habit more than anything, his grip tightens immediately.
"What did I just say?" he asks, but he's smiling even as he says it. He presses his forehead against yours, breathing hard. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"
His hair tie has come slightly loose, a few strands falling free to frame his face, and without thinking you reach up to fix it. He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips instead.
"Or," he says, eyes glinting with mischief again, "you could just take it out. Since you seem so interested in my hair."
When you do, his hair falls forward, messy and perfect, and he shakes his head slightly to settle it. The movement is casual, but the way he's looking at you is anything but.
"There," he says, leaning in close again. His voice drops lower, more intimate. "Now you can touch it all you want."
And when he kisses you this time—deep, slow and purposeful, his fingers threading through your hair to mirror your touch in his—you forget all about teasing him.
You forget about everything except the way he's holding you, kissing you, like he plans to make up for every single time you pulled away.
"See?" he murmurs against your lips, and you can feel his smile. "Told you I'd be fun.”
ˋ ⌞⋮ TAESAN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Making out with Taesan is always intense. He doesn't do anything halfway. When he kisses you, it's with complete focus, like nothing else in the world exists. His hands are firm on your waist, his lips moving against yours with purpose and confidence that makes your head spin.
So really, you should've known better than to tease him.
But you do it anyway.
The first time you pull away, his eyes open slowly, dark and slightly unfocused. He doesn't say anything, just looks at you with a quiet question in his gaze. When you lean back in without explanation, he accepts it, one hand coming up to cup your jaw as he deepens the kiss.
The second time you pull away, you feel the change immediately.
His fingers tighten on your waist—not painfully, but noticeably. His eyes are sharper now when they meet yours, more alert. He's figured it out.
"What are you doing?" His voice is low, quiet, but there's an edge to it.
"Nothing," you say, but you can't quite hide your smile.
Taesan's jaw clenches. He doesn't move for a moment, just watches you with that intense gaze that always makes you feel like he can see right through you. Then, slowly, he leans back in. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, grip firm and possessive.
"Don't," he says simply, right before his lips meet yours.
This kiss is different, harder, more demanding. His tongue sweeps against yours with clear intent, his hand tightening in warning when he feels you start to pull back. But you do it anyway, breaking the kiss with a soft laugh.
The look he gives you could melt steel.
"You think this is a joke?" His voice is dangerously quiet, and the tone in his voice makes heat pool in your stomach. He's not smiling. Not even a little bit.
"Maybe a little," you admit.
Wrong answer.
In one fluid motion, Taesan shifts, and suddenly you're the one being pressed back against the couch. He's hovering over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still gripping your hip. His hair falls forward slightly, shadowing his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze pins you in place.
"You want to play games with me?" he asks, voice still low, a controlled tone that somehow feels more threatening than if he were actually angry. "Okay. Let's play."
He leans down, but instead of kissing your lips, he goes for your neck. His mouth is hot against your skin, teeth grazing lightly before he soothes the spot with his tongue. When you gasp, you feel him smile against your throat.
"What's wrong?" he murmurs, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. "You can dish it out but can't take it?"
His hand slides under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, and you feel him trace slow patterns on your skin. It's deliberate, teasing, and completely unfair. When you try to squirm, his grip on your hip tightens, holding you still.
"Stay," he commands softly, and the authority in his voice makes you obey without thinking.
He kisses up your neck, along your jaw, getting closer and closer to your lips but never quite getting there. When you turn your head to try to kiss him, he pulls back just enough to stay out of reach, and the smirk on his face is absolutely infuriating.
"Not so fun, is it?" he asks, voice laced with dark amusement. "Being teased?"
"Taesan—"
"What?" He tilts his head, looking at you with false innocence that doesn't match the heat in his eyes at all. "I'm just doing what you did to me. That's fair, right?"
His hand slides higher under your shirt, thumb brushing just below your ribs, and you arch into the touch without meaning to. He notices, of course. He notices everything.
"So sensitive," he observes, and there's satisfaction in his tone. His hand moves back down, tracing patterns that make you shiver. "I barely even touched you."
When he finally kisses you again, it's overwhelming. Deep and consuming, like he's trying to prove a point. His body presses close to yours, and you can feel the tension wound tight beneath his skin, the barely restrained control as he holds himself back.
You try to pull away—instinct, maybe, or maybe you just want to see what he'll do—and his reaction is immediate.
His hand flies up to grip your chin, firmly turning your face back to his. "Don't," he warns, and his voice has gone even lower, rough with frustration. "I'm not playing anymore."
There’s a dangerous edge in his gaze now, sharp enough to steal your breath. He’s always been intense, but this is different. This is Taesan with his patience worn down, his restraint fraying, control slipping just enough to show what he’s been holding back.
"You wanted my attention?" he asks, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "You have it. All of it. So stop running away."
He kisses you again, harder this time, almost punishing. His hand slips back into your hair, fingers curling with just enough force to steal a breath from you, and he doesn’t hesitate, using the moment to pull you closer, to deepen the kiss until the world tilts and everything feels hazy around the edges. His other hand grips your waist, thumb pressing into your hip bone hard enough that you know you'll feel it tomorrow.
"This is what you do to me," he breathes against your lips, and for the first time you hear how affected he actually is. His voice is ragged, strained. "You drive me crazy. You know that?"
His forehead drops to yours, and you can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of maintaining control. His breathing is heavy, chest heaving against yours.
"Every time you pulled away," he continues, voice barely above a whisper, "all I could think about was how to make you stay. How to make you want me so badly you couldn't even think about leaving."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the raw intensity in his gaze steals your breath. "So here's what's going to happen," he says, voice dropping into that commanding tone again. "You're going to stay right here. You're not going to pull away. And you're going to let me kiss you until I'm satisfied. Understood?"
It's not really a question.
When you nod, his expression softens slightly. "Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise sends warmth flooding through you.
This time when he kisses you, it's slower but no less intense. Thorough. Possessive. Like he's claiming you with every brush of his lips, every slide of his tongue. His hands roam your body with purpose, touching, gripping and holding like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.
When he finally pulls back—minutes or hours later, you've lost track—his lips are swollen and red, his eyes dark and satisfied.
"You're so pretty," he says, voice still rough. His thumb traces your jaw gently, a stark contrast to how tightly he was holding you moments ago.
He settles beside you, pulling you against his chest, and you can still feel his heart racing. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, and he brings it to his lips.
"Next time you want to tease me," he says quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "remember how this ended."
It's a warning and a promise all at once.
And the really dangerous part? You're already thinking about doing it again, just to see what happens.
ˋ ⌞⋮ LEEHAN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Leehan kisses the way he does everything else—with a calm, unhurried confidence that somehow makes your heart race more than any urgency could. His hands are gentle on your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as his lips move against yours with patient precision.
There’s an almost meditative quality to it—how he takes his time, as if he has all day to learn the shape of your mouth. It’s the same focused attention he gives anything that holds his interest—steady, observant, fully present.
Which is exactly why you're curious to see what happens when you disrupt that carefully maintained composure.
When you pull away the first time, he doesn't react much. Just opens his eyes slowly, looking at you with that serene expression he always has, like nothing in the world could disturb his peace. He tilts his head slightly, a small questioning smile on his lips, but he doesn't say anything. Just waits.
You lean back in, and he accepts it without hesitation, picking up exactly where you left off. His kiss is deeper this time, more intentional, and you feel one of his hands slide to the back of your neck, fingers spreading through your hair.
Then you pull away again.
This time, you catch the faintest flicker in his eyes. Not confusion, not frustration, more like… focused interest. Like he’s watching an experiment unfold and quietly filing away observations.
"Interesting," he murmurs, voice still soft and even. His hand stays where it is in your hair, not gripping, just resting. "Are you testing something?"
The casual way he asks it makes you laugh. Leave it to Leehan to treat this like a curious phenomenon rather than actual teasing.
"Maybe," you admit.
He hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face with that focused attention he usually reserves for his fish tanks. "I see." Then, simply : "Continue."
It's such a Leehan response that you can't help but smile as you kiss him again. This time his hand tightens just slightly in your hair—barely noticeable, but you feel it. When you pull away for the third time, you're watching for his reaction.
His eyes open slowly, and there’s a shift you can’t ignore. The calm is still there, carefully maintained, but beneath it simmers a heat that hadn’t surfaced before. He looks at you for a long, deliberate moment without saying a word, and the silence feels heavy, charged, far more unsettling than anything he could have spoken.
"Three times," he observes quietly. His thumb traces your bottom lip with deliberate slowness. "You've pulled away three times now."
"Have I?" You try to sound innocent.
"Mm." His gaze drops to your lips, and you watch his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. "You have."
He leans in again, but this time it's different. Slower. More purposeful. His eyes stay open, locked on yours until the last possible second, and when his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is deeper than before. Consuming. His hand in your hair shifts, fingers curling just enough to keep you in place without being forceful.
When you try to pull away this time, you realize you can't move far. His grip isn't painful, isn't even really tight, but it's firm. Decisive. And the message is clear : he's done letting you control this.
He breaks the kiss himself, but stays close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “I’ve been patient with you,” he murmurs, voice low and even, controlled that it feels almost mesmerizing. There’s an undercurrent to it now, a quiet shift that makes your stomach tighten, that sends awareness sparking through you. His gaze stays locked on yours as he adds, just as softly, “But I think we’re past that.”
His free hand lifts to cradle your face, the touch gentle but unmistakably claiming, a quiet possessiveness threaded through the softness of the gesture. "Do you know what happens when you test someone's patience?" he asks, and it's clearly rhetorical because he continues without waiting for an answer. "You find out exactly how much control they actually have."
He kisses you again, and this time there's no mistaking the intensity behind it. It's still controlled, still measured, but you can feel the restraint it's taking. His tongue slides against yours with clear intent, and the hand on your face angles your head exactly where he wants it.
"I have a lot of patience," he murmurs against your lips. "But even I have limits."
When his hand slides down from your face to your throat, his thumb against your pulse point, you gasp softly. You feel him smile.
"Your heart is racing," he observes, voice still that same quiet, almost clinical tone. But his thumb traces circles on your neck that are anything but clinical. "Interesting. Are you nervous?"
You shake your head, and his smile grows slightly.
"No? Then what?" His eyes search yours with genuine curiosity, edged with a darker intent. "Excited? Anticipating what I'll do next?"
He’s analyzing you even now, reading every reaction—and somehow that makes it worse.
"Let me tell you what I think," he says, leaning in close enough that his breath fans across your lips. "I think you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed me. You wanted to know what I'd be like when I stop being patient."
His hand tightens just slightly around your throat—not restricting, just present, just enough to remind you it's there. "Would you like to see?"
Before you can answer, he's kissing you again, and it's completely overwhelming. Still controlled, still measured, but intense in a way that makes your head spin. His hand stays on your throat, feeling every gasp, every quickening of your pulse, while his other hand finally releases your hair to slide down your back.
When he pulls you closer, you can feel his heart beating against your chest, faster than usual but still steady.
"You're not pulling away now," he notes, pulling back just enough to speak. There's satisfaction in his tone, quiet but unmistakable. "Why is that?"
His hand slides under your shirt, palm flat against your lower back, and the skin-to-skin contact makes you shiver. He notices immediately, of course he does. He notices everything.
"Cold?" he asks, but there's a knowing look in his eyes that says he knows exactly why you shivered, and it has nothing to do with temperature.
"Leehan—" you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, this one somehow even deeper than the last.
"Shh," he soothes between kisses, hand moving in slow circles on your back. "No more talking. No more pulling away. Just focus on this."
When his hand slides higher up your back, fingers tracing your spine, you arch into him without meaning to. His other hand tightens on your throat in response just for a second, just enough to make you gasp, before relaxing again.
"See?" he murmurs, and there's a smugness in his tone now. "You're much better when you stay still. When you let me do what I want."
He kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. "I could do this for hours," he says conversationally, like he's commenting on the weather. "Just finding all the spots that make you react. Learning exactly what you like."
"But first," he says, pulling back to look at you again, "you're going to stay right here and let me kiss you properly. No more games. No more pulling away." His thumb brushes across your throat, feeling your pulse jump. "Can you do that for me?"
It's phrased as a question, but the look in his eyes makes it clear there's only one acceptable answer.
When you nod, his smile is small but genuinely pleased. "Good," he says softly, leaning in again. "That's very good."
And when he kisses you this time—slow, deep and absolutely devastating—you understand exactly what he meant about patience. Because Leehan doesn't rush anything. He takes his time, thorough and methodical, until you forget you ever wanted to pull away in the first place.
Until all you can think about is how to get him to never stop.
ˋ ⌞⋮ WOONHAK .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Kissing Woonhak is sweet and a little clumsy in the most endearing way. He's still figuring things out, but he makes up for any lack of experience with sheer enthusiasm. His hands rest nervously on your waist, and you can feel how fast his heart is beating when you're this close.
So of course, you decide to make it worse for him.
The first time you pull away, his eyes fly open immediately, wide and startled like a deer in headlights. "Wait, what— did I mess up?" His voice pitches up slightly in panic. "Was that bad? I can do better, I promise, just—"
"You're fine," you assure him with a laugh, leaning back in before he can spiral further.
He relaxes instantly, shoulders dropping as he lets out a relieved breath. "Okay, okay good, because I've been practicing— I mean, not practicing, but like, thinking about— you know what, never mind." His ears are already bright red as he kisses you again, and you can feel him smiling against your lips.
That's when you pull away the second time.
"Okay, what—" He blinks at you, confused. Then his eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. "Wait. Are you doing that on purpose?"
You try to keep a straight face. "Doing what?"
"THAT!" He gestures wildly between you. "The pulling away! You're messing with me right now!"
When you don't deny it, his mouth drops open in betrayal. "Oh my god, you ARE! I can't believe— I was so worried I was doing something wrong!"
"You weren't," you say, grinning now.
"Then why—" He stops, processing, and then his expression shifts between embarrassment and indignation. "You're TEASING me? Seriously?"
He runs both hands through his hair, laughing in disbelief. "I'm already so nervous and you're just— wow. Okay. That's how we're playing this?"
Before you can respond, he's leaning back in with renewed determination. "Fine. You know what? I'm not gonna let it get to me. I'm just gonna— we're just gonna kiss and it's gonna be great and you're not gonna—"
You pull away again.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?" His voice cracks spectacularly, and he falls back against the couch dramatically, covering his face with his hands. "This is torture! Actual torture! I'm being tortured!"
You're laughing now, and he peeks at you through his fingers. "You think this is funny? My heart can't take this kind of stress! I'm too young!"
"You're so dramatic," you say, but you're smiling.
"I'M dramatic?" He sits back up, pointing at you accusingly. "You're the one playing mind games! Do you know how hard it is to focus when you keep— when you—" He gestures vaguely, too flustered to finish the sentence.
His whole face is red now, and he's fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Every time you pull away, I think I did something wrong and my brain just goes—" He makes an explosion sound effect with his hands. "Like that. Complete malfunction."
"Want me to stop?" you ask, taking pity on him.
"YES! No! I don't know!" He groans, flopping against the couch again. "This is so confusing. You're so confusing. Why are you like this?"
After a moment of internal crisis, he sits back up with a determined look. "Okay. Okay, I'm gonna try one more time, and you have to promise not to pull away because I don't think my heart can handle it."
"I promise," you say, and he eyes you suspiciously.
"Really?"
"Really."
He studies your face for a long moment, clearly trying to determine if you're trustworthy. Finally, he nods. "Okay. But if you do it again, I'm— I don't know what I'll do, but it'll be something! A consequence! There will be consequences!"
The threat would be more effective if his voice wasn't shaking slightly and if he didn't look absolutely adorable while making it.
When he leans in this time, he's extra careful. His hand comes up to cup your face gently, and he pauses just before your lips meet. "You promised," he whispers, and for all the control in his posture, there’s a fragile note beneath it, almost pleading, almost vulnerable.
"I promised," you confirm.
This kiss is different—slower, more confident now that he's not worried about you disappearing. His other hand finds yours, fingers intertwining and squeezing like he's anchoring himself. When you don't pull away, you feel him relax completely, even smiling against your lips.
After a few moments, he pulls back himself, and the smile on his face is so bright and genuine it makes your heart squeeze. "See? We can do this! When you're not being evil, we're actually really good at this!"
"Evil is a strong word," you laugh.
"You literally tortured me for fun," he points out, but he's grinning now. "That's pretty evil. I'm dating a villain."
He's still holding your hand, thumb tracing patterns on your skin, and the simple affection of it is so Woonhak it makes you smile.
"Don't do that again though," he says quietly. "My heart rate still hasn't gone back to normal. I think you took years off my life."
"So dramatic," you repeat.
"So mean," he counters, but he's leaning in again anyway, bumping his nose against yours playfully. "You're lucky you're cute."
"You think I'm cute?"
"Don't fish for compliments, you already know you are," he mumbles, ears going red again. "Now can we please just kiss like normal people? No more games?"
And when you agree, his relieved sigh is so loud and exaggerated that you can't help but laugh against his lips.
Even as he kisses you again—sweet, enthusiastic and unmistakably Woonhak—he pulls back every few seconds just to check that you're still there, like he doesn't quite trust that you won't disappear again.
"Just making sure," he explains each time, and honestly? It's perfect.
⋆｡°✩ pairing bf!woonhak x gn!reader wc 0.708k tw mention of wounded people genre angst, fluff, vaguely hurt/comfort, zombie apocalypse au
⋆˚꩜｡author's note requested, gang we are so back. also hi rosy i went overboard bc i just couldn't help it... i love apocalypse au !! sm!! also i love woonhak. enjoy and happy (?) reading <3
⋆˙⟡ synopsis in a world so lost and broken, you share one last moment with your love... will you ever see him again?
♬⋆.˚ listen to we're screwed (unlike pluto).
⋆⭒˚.⋆ reblogs + feedback very much appreciated! ^^
“all groups traveling outside of the safe zone, please report to the south exit of the bunker! i repeat, please report to the south exit!”
the voice is just barely audible through what’s left of the speaker system, muffled in the hallways you’ve grown so accustomed to roaming. during ungodly hours of the night, assisting to the wounded. during the soft light of morning, running to catch the teams foraging for food and supplies. during sunset, when the round windows let light beams of all the colors of the sky into the metal tunnels you now called home.
during the time you’ve spent roaming the bunker halls with the boy in front of you.
“all groups securing the bunker, report to the central hub! i repeat, report to the central hub!”
woonhak swallows at that announcement. “that’s me.”
“i know.”
he’s grasping your hands, fingers playing with yours absent-mindedly as he stares down at the worn floor. you let him, watching as his hair falls in front of his face. you wriggle one of your hands out of his hold, reaching up and tucking the dark strands out of his eyes. his head tilts up to follow your hand as you do so, his eyes tracking the movement as your palm rests against the side of his face.
the look he gives you is heartbreaking.
“hakie,” you murmur, watching the edges of his dark irises waver as his eyes fill with tears. he shakes his head slightly, a small smile pulling at his cheeks.
“i’m going to miss you calling me that.”
so am i, you want to say, but you can’t speak over the lump in your throat that’s starting to grow.
“all groups traveling outisde of the safe zone, please report to the south exit of the bunker! i repeat, please report to the south exit!”
you really should go. your entire team is probably waiting for you. the longer you stay in this compromised bunker, the longer you’re putting everyone else at risk - of exposure, of infection, or worse.
“all groups securing the bunker, report to the central hub! i repeat, report to the central hub!”
woonhak tenses, and you brush your thumb over his cheek gently. he reaches up and clasps your wrist, exhaling shakily. “i should go. jaehyun is going to be so mad if i’m late.”
“so should i,” you breathe, but neither of you move.
“final call! all groups traveling outisde of the safe zone, please report to the south exit!”
your temporary refuge is no longer safe. you and so many others are leaving to find a new one, or make one if need be. but just in case you can’t… woonhak and his team are staying behind, implementing a last-resort effort to save what’s left of the place that has protected you for the past few months. your vision blurs, and suddenly your throat is so tight and painful that it takes you a few moments to speak. “will i see you again?”
his mission is a futile effort, and you know it.
woonhak meets your gaze. “i can’t… i can’t make any promises.”
you sniffle, closing your eyes for a moment before leaning forward to kiss him. he kisses you back, pulling you closer to the warmth of his body. everything about him is warm - his kisses, his hands against your skin, his love. his love in this bleak, forlorn world.
tears spill over your cheeks when you finally pull away, pressing your forehead to his. he exhales slowly, and when your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s already looking at you.
“don’t wait for me,” he murmurs, voice soft. he brushes his fingers over your cheeks. “no matter what. you keep on moving with everyone else, okay? i’ll find you again. i promise.”
you nod, your lips curving upward as you hold up your pinky finger in a silent question. he smiles back, linking pinkies with you and pressing his thumb to yours firmly.
“final call! all groups securing the bunker, report to the central hub! i repeat, report to the central hub!”
“woonhak.”
“hm?”
“i love you.”
he grins at that, even as his eyes fill once more. “i love you too, y/n.”
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ want to check out the planetarium's other exhibits?
⊹ ࣪ ˖ how bf! boynextdoor reacts when you're on your period!! ⋆˚꩜｡
⋮ ⌗ ┆warnings: extreme fluff, period comfort, a drabbles/headcannon, jaehyun and riwoo may be ooc, skinship, kissing (pecks), lowercase intended, female reader, a littlee self indulgent with taesan and woonhaks teehee
⋮ ⌗ ┆word count: 2k (roughly 350~ per member)
⋮ ⌗ ┆authors note: hii!! this is my first drabble on this account so i'm super excited!! this is a verryy fluff fic in general so yay!! this is dedicated to @yumangel since she's been supporting to me to start my writing blog so here it is!! I hope you have a great time reading it as much as i've enjoyed writing it!! <33
ᛝ now playing: so let's go see the stars by boynextdoor
back to masterlist | reblogs and comments highly valued (please) ~~
── 박성호 park sungho ˎˊ˗
he’s the old school gentleman.. whatever you want, he’ll do it for you. with exceptions of funny things of course. imagine this: it’s 2pm in the afternoon and you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling, rethinking your life choices of not purchasing a heatpack for your excruciating period cramps. you pick up your phone hoping to distract your mind but found yourself about to text sungho. you hesitate, worried you might be intruding into his practice but you decide your cramps were far too bad. you send a simple text, “bad cramps T^T..” the message sends and two blue ticks appear, though there’s no reply. you pout, maybe he really was busy, it was promotion period.. you put your phone down and close your eyes, hoping to fall asleep and time would move faster. about fifteen minutes later, you hear your apartment front door open. in the next second, your bedroom door then opens wide, revealing a panting sungho. his hair was fluffed up and sticking in different directions, it was clear he had ran from wherever be came from. in his hands were plastic bags full of chips, snacks and desserts. his eyes soften with pity before he sat down next to you on the bed, rummaging through the bags. he pulls out a heat pack. after he warms it up, he hands it to you while using his fingers to push away the hair clinging onto your face, his expression full of worry.
you mumble an apology, “sorry..you ran here didn’t you?.. i shouldn’t have made you come all the way here during promotions-” he flicks your forehead before you could finish, “i care more about you than promotions.. if my girl is stuck in bed withering away, i need to help her. in this case with chips and snacks.” he smiles softly before bringing your knuckles to his lips, peppering kisses. he sits there as you slowly fall asleep, patting you to sleep.
throughout your period, he makes sure everything is under control. he takes most of his time comforting you and being there for you. he takes his time with you, making sure you fall asleep before sleeping himself. he also makes sure you don’t take anything cold within your first 3 days of your period, he’s strict when it comes to your wellbeing.
── 명재현 myung jaehyun ˎˊ˗
he would not notice.. but when he does, he’s super thoughtful and caring. imagine this: it’s 7pm in the evening, you’re cramps had gotten even more unbearable and there you lay on the shared bed, squirming around. jaehyun, who had just stepped out of the shower, stares at you puzzled. it takes him time to piece together but he soon realises it’s your cramps. he lays next to you on the bed, tucking your head below his chin as he strokes your side. you couldn’t help but mumble a stupid question, “would you still love me if i was a rock?” jaehyun stares at you, “you’re a rock. i can’t love rocks.” you pout at his response. “but i will try. i’ll carry you around in my pocket and show you off, ‘my girlfriend is a rock!’ i’ll say.” he snorts before planting kisses on your cheeks. “is it the hormonal questions?” he asks. you nod. he sighs softly, “well, let’s not focus on that. want to do a movie night? your choice of movie.” you smirk, “what about scream?-” he pokes your side, “absolutely not! do you want to get your boyfriend killed from a heart attack-” he pauses as he was met with your pleading eyes. he chuckles feeling ridiculous, “finee, only because you’re cute and you’re on your period.” that night was spent with him screaming and crying.
overall, he would be super attentive. even though he cracks jokes about your period and to make you laugh, he would ask how he can help and try his best to do it for you, even if it’s getting ice cream at 3am. he would listen to all your needs.
── 이리우 lee riwoo ˎˊ˗
he cares in his own silent way. he won’t show how worried he is about you but he is definitely worried especially when you become silent. imagine this: it’s late at night, riwoo comes home from a long day of promotions for his new album. he’s exhausted from the tiring performances and just wishes to take a nice shower. he heads to the bedroom to find a lump under the bedsheets. he pries open the bedsheets to see you curled up in a fetal position, wincing in pain. he can immediately guess what’s the reason. he taps on your shoulder, asking, “do you need anything? heat pack? snacks? a hot shower?” but you never respond. his eyebrows become furrowed in worry. he heads to the kitchen and grabs a heat pack, warming it up for you. he pads back to the room and passes the heat pack to you. once you relax from the heat pack, you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him whilst apologising. he shakes his head and smooths your hair, “it’s fine, as long as you feel better.” he pinches your cheek and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your eye.
overall, I think he's super caring and observant to any changes you might feel or need and he'll immediately respond. I feel like he's also the type to crack dad jokes to you when he notices you feeling/acting different and he'll never fault you for anything you do on your period, just worried you'll stain yourself or tire yourself. this man will let you sleep and lay around rotting for however long you want.
── 한태산 han taesan ˎˊ˗
he knows everything. when i say everything.. it’s EVERYTHING because of his prior knowledge with his sister. imagine this: you were at the studio with him, sitting on his lap as he does some producing. out of the blue, he says, “your period is in two days right?” you blink in confusion, you tilt your head up to look at him, “what?” “your period is in 2 days.” he repeats himself. you’re flabbergasted, “..i don’t know.. is it?..” taesan nods, “based on your last cycle-” “you track my cycle?!” you interrupt, absolutely flustered. he nods in response, “with the app.”
he and the app were right, 2 days later, it arrived. you were curled up, tucked comfortably beside him on the bed. he had everything stocked up like a warzone, pads, tampons, chips, snacks, icecream, face masks and everything essential to battling the period. he strokes your back, comforting you in his own silent way. He occasionally cracks jokes to take your mind off the pain and it works until you burst out laughing and it makes the cramps worse. the silence between the two of you was comfortable as you seek each others presence in the night. he hums a soft tune while patting your back, chin on your head. “you’re so prepared..” you mumble, nuzzling closer to the crook of his neck. taesan laughs softly under his breath, “you’re just not prepared. what would you do without me?” he kissed your temple. you snort, “die probably.. i still can’t believe you track my period cycle..” taesan shrugs, “if it helps my girlfriend then of course i will.. you’re the most important thing to me.”. the next day, he helps you install the period app too.
throughout your period, you don’t even have to lift a single finger. taesan treats you like a precious doll, he has everything under control too, although sometimes messy. even though he’s playful in nature, he never jokes about your period or joke with you a lot during your period. (because you might beat him up) but because he doesn’t want you to feel anything but comfortable.
── 김이한 kim leehan ˎˊ˗
he will try to distract you from your cramps no doubt, spitting out the most random facts ever while making sure you feel well. imagine this: you lay on the couch, curled up into a ball as you squirm around. “ihannie.. it hurts..” you whine with a groan. you can barely keep your eyes open because of the excruciating pain. leehan, who sits at the dining table, fixated on his laptop which was full of unfinished documents, looks up at you. his eyes soften seeing your pitiful state. he removes his glasses and heads to sit next to you on the couch. he wraps his arm around your waist as he caresses your hair. “want to hear some silly facts? get your mind off the pain, hm?” he speaks gently, pecking a few kisses on the crown of your head. you nod, anything to feel better really. leehan clears his throat, “well do you know that fishes can fart? and they use their farts to communicate and bouyancy control.” you can’t help but giggle seeing his nerd side come out. once he notices your laughter, he smiles softly, “see, it helps.” he pokes your forehead teasingly. you nod your head, snuggling closer to him. the night continues as he spouts more fun facts about fishes as his fingers comb through your hair gently. he doesn’t stop even after you have fallen asleep, only until an hour after, he kisses your forehead, mumbling a “goodnight.. i love you like how fish loves water..”
throughout your period, he’s attentive to your needs and particular, wanting it to be exactly done how you wanted it to be or else he would get scolded or silently treated by your hormones. he’s understanding, knowing you don’t mean your mood swings and you can’t control them. he may be slow with requests but he makes sure it’s up to your expectations and more.
── 김운학 kim woonhak ˎˊ˗
the meme about pad and wings? yes that’s him 100%. although he has a younger sister, i don’t think he knows anything unlike taesan. imagine this: while lounging around at home lazily, his arms around your shoulder as you flip through the different television channels, you feel the feminine intuition to head to the bathroom. woonhak whines softly as you leave his grip but quietens down when you give him a peck on the cheek saying you’ll be back soon. once inside the bathroom, you immediately check and your intuition was right, the day came.. you call out to him, “unhak..” he’s ready, peeking his head into the bathroom. “could you go to the store and grab some pad with wings?” you instruct. he flushes, never having to experience this before he stumbles over his words asking you if he’s really suitable for the job. you shoo him off with a few flicks of your wrist. he spends forever in the store that you wonder if he had somehow lost his way out of the pad section but he finally returns. he opens the bathroom door and gently gives you the packet of pads before slipping out. you frown, the pads were normal pads, ones without wings. you shrug and put them on, having them is better than not having any. as you freshen up and head out of the bathroom, you tilt your head in confusion at the sight of chicken wings on the dining table. “i got you wings.. i didn’t know what flavour to get you..” woonhak mumbles.
oh. this was awkward.
you let out a snort. you tell him you meant he should get pad with wings for extra security and explained properly what they were. his face was filled with embarrassment as you explained. he stuffs his face in his palms as you stroke his head and console him (whilst giggling at him).
throughout your period, he’s definitely attentive and swift. although he doesn’t know much, he wants to learn and even takes ‘lessons’ from you. you say that it hurts? he has a heat pack ready. you say you want chocolate? he’s got that ready. he’s deffo becomes clingier during your period, wanting to cuddle your cramps away. even though he’s clumsy, he cares.
bunny gif divider by @kthice | network: @berrybittynetwork
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warnings: nightmares, crying, established relationship, domestic skinship (kissing, hugging, headpats, belly rubs), shared bed, use of nicknames (angel, my love, darling, sweets, hun, princess, love)
genre: tooth rotting fluff, angst for the nightmare if you squint
w/c: 100+ per member
A/N: Enjoy! And feel free to prompt!
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
Sungho
You tried to forget about all your responsibilities and upcoming things due as you fell asleep, but every time you closed your eyes your mind started racing.
You tried to turn as quietly as possible to not wake Sungho up, but he felt your hair move against his arm under your head. He didn't say anything, shifting lightly.
As the night went on, you kept tossing and turning. Eventually, he couldn't ignore it.
"Everything okay, angel?"
You sighed. "Sorry. Can't sleep."
He nodded, opening his arms out for you. You eased into his embrace, and he wrapped his arms around you gently and firmly to stop you from turning. He reached one of his hands to your back, slowly tapping out a consistent rhythm. "Don't turn or move," he whispered. "Just pretend you're asleep."
Riwoo
Riwoo was exhausted from the eventful day, so he was ready to faint the moment he hit the bed. However, he soon realised you were wide awake, staring up at the ceiling.
"What are you doing, my love?"
You turned to face him. "Not sleepy."
He hummed, reaching out and pulling you close. He rubbed your arm slowly. "Do you want anything from me?"
You contemplated. "A lullaby?"
He breathed out a laugh, then gently sang until you fell asleep.
M. Jaehyun
Myungjae is a BIG hugger. But today was just too hot for you.
You kicked off the blankets for the third time. When he tried to hug you, you yanked yourself to the other side of the bed, flipping your pillow over. He smiled lazily. "Hot, princess?"
You nodded, laying starfish on your stomach as you tried to cool down. As the night went on, Jaehyun slowly creeped his hand to lay on top of your head. Sooner or later, once you got cold again, you were squeezed into the loving arms of your touchy boyfriend.
"Night, sweets," he whispered.
Taesan
Your cramps were horrible tonight. Probably the worst you'd ever gotten. You tried to hide it, turning as slowly as possible, but he eventually noticed.
"What are you doing?" he deadpanned.
You looked at him sheepishly. "I can't sleep."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sleep so well usually."
"Yeah, well... I have cramps..." You mumbled, trailing off at the last part.
He realized what you were saying and smiled (buhit buhit!), reaching out. "Darling."
You gratefully got pulled into his warmth, and he put a gentle hand on your stomach, going under your shirt to gently rub it.
"Night, darling."
Leehan
You were way too excited to sleep.
You were going to a concert tomorrow, and it had been your lifelong dream. You kicked your feet in bed, suppressing the hundredth squeal in your throat.
Leehan just laughed at your antics. "If you sleep it'll come faster, hun."
You stared at him with wide eyes. "How can I possibly fall asleep? My life will change tomorrow."
He grins, pulling you into a hug and leaving a light kiss on your forehead. "I'm sure you'll manage." He leans in, unable to stop himself from pecking your lips. You both smile into the kiss.
You laugh. "Is this your method of getting rid of my energy?"
He grins. "Sure. Let's call it that."
The night continued with you both giggling and sharing kisses, until eventually you fell asleep in each other's arms.
Woonhak
You woke up gasping. That dream— no, that nightmare— had felt way too real. You realized your face was wet, tears dripping onto your cheeks. You tried to lightly sniffle, but you soon heard a grunt.
"You crying, love?"
He turned onto his side to face you, eyes widening at your glossy eyes.
"Sorry, bad dream. Go back to sleep."
He shook his head. "Don't apologize, love. You wanna talk about it?"
You shook your head. He nodded, extending his arms out. You let yourself be cuddled, feeling him trace patterns on your back. One hand cupped your head, gently caressing your hair.
