NOTE FROM SENA , i actually had an idea in my mind (which might explain how I made this one so fast lol) thank you for requesting this anon, I actually had fun writing this one! [REQUESTED] college au MASTERLIST!!
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i. THE CLASS PREZ & THE NEW STUDENT
From the moment you entered the classroom as the new student, Gyuvin—class president and campus golden boy—was assigned to guide you around.
He approached you with his signature bright grin and confidence, extending a hand. “I’m Gyuvin, class president and your new best friend. You’re in good hands.”
He quickly learned you struggled a bit with your studies, but instead of judging, he offered to help you. “No worries. I’ve got you.”
Gyuvin loved tutoring you—mostly because it gave him a reason to spend time with you.
ii. HELPING YOU CHEAT
Gyuvin is so against cheating—seriously, he’s class president, he’s responsible! But… he’s also whipped for you.
During a particularly tough exam, you whisper that you’re doomed, and Gyuvin just sighs dramatically. “Don’t move, okay?”
He slides his answer sheet ever-so-subtly toward you under the pretense of stretching, whispering, “This never happened.”
After the exam, he scolds you gently: “I can’t believe I did that! You owe me for breaking my morals.” But then he softens and grins, ruffling your hair. “You’re lucky it was you.”
He’d never admit that seeing your relieved smile made it all worth it.
iii. THE PROJECT PAIRING
When the professor announces a paired project, Gyuvin immediately claims you as his partner, leaving no room for debate. “We’re a team—no questions asked.”
Working on the project together brings you closer. You spend late nights in the library, him explaining concepts and teasing you when you get distracted.
He’d always bring snacks—especially a strawberry milk bottle—because he “can’t have his baby starving.”
The first time he calls you baby, you roll your eyes and shove him playfully. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? You’re basically my baby at this point. I take care of you,” he jokes with that boyish grin.
iv. THE STRAWBERRY MILK HABIT
Gyuvin starts carrying a strawberry milk bottle everywhere, and his friends are utterly confused.
“Why do you always have that?”
“My baby might need it,” he says casually, ignoring the teasing looks.
Whenever you look tired or stressed, he wordlessly hands you the bottle with a small smile. “Drink up. It’s your favorite, right?”
Even before you started dating, it became a small tradition—his way of silently showing he cared.
v. HIS TERRIBLE “SECRET” CRUSH
Gyuvin genuinely thought he was being sneaky, but in reality, everyone (including you) figured it out long before he confessed.
His friends constantly teased him for how obvious it was—how his eyes lit up when you walked into a room, how he couldn’t stop talking about you, and how he always prioritized you over everything else.
“You’re so obvious, Gyuvin. Even she probably knows.”
“No way. I’m smooth,” he’d insist, completely unaware that you’d been catching on for weeks.
vi. WHEN YOU FOUND OUT
You finally caught on one day when you overheard Gyuvin’s friends teasing him about how whipped he was for you.
“Bro, you’re carrying two strawberry milks now? Are you building a shrine for her?”
Gyuvin groaned, blushing. “I just want her to be happy, okay? Shut up.”
You cornered him later, smirking. “So… whipped, huh?”
Gyuvin froze, completely flustered. “Who told you that?! I mean—uh—what?”
vii. THE STOLEN KISS
Before you could fully confront him about his feelings, Gyuvin decided to beat you to the punch.
It happened after one of your late project sessions. You were packing up your things when he suddenly leaned closer, grinning mischievously.
“You know,” he said softly, “it’s not really a secret crush if you already know, right?”
Before you could respond, he brushed his lips against your cheek—a soft, fleeting kiss that left you stunned.
He laughed at your reaction, standing up and stretching. “What? I had to make my move before you started teasing me for real.”
viii. THE CONFESSION & DATING
Gyuvin finally confessed properly a few days later. He showed up at your doorstep with a strawberry milk bottle in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
“Okay, fine. I like you—a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Will you let me call you ‘baby’ for real?”
You couldn’t say no, especially when he looked so hopeful. “Fine. But only if you keep bringing me strawberry milk.”
From then on, Gyuvin became the best boyfriend—teasing you constantly but always taking care of you in his own sweet way.
His friends groaned every time they saw you two together, calling you the “power couple” because of how smitten Gyuvin was.
ix. AFTER DATING GYUVIN
He never lets you forget how hard he worked for you. “Remember when I helped you cheat during that exam? That’s love, babe.”
He still calls you “baby,” but now it’s with even more affection.
And yes, he always—always—has a strawberry milk ready for you because, in his words: “I’ve been your class president, your tutor, your partner… but being your boyfriend is my favorite job.”
✩ ⋅ pairing. bsf!kim gyuvin x gn!reader
✩ ⋅ genre. just gyuvin yearning
✩ ⋅ warnings. reader is described as "beautiful"
✩ ⋅ wc. 405
It’s the night of prom and you’re sitting in your room trying to put on your jewelry. Gyuvin, your best friend, is sitting on the corner of your bed on his phone, waiting for you to finish getting ready.
You hold out your wrist toward him, the bracelet pooling in your palm. “Can you help me with this?” you ask, already turning slightly so he can step closer.
Gyuvin swallows, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”
His fingers brush against your skin as he picks up the chain. His knuckles bump gently against your wrist as he fumbles with the clasp, trying to hook it in place without letting it slip.
“Stay still,” he murmurs, voice lower than usual.
“I am still.” You glance down at him with a soft smile.
He doesn’t respond. His focus is entirely on the clasp, but his hands tremble. It’s not the bracelet that’s difficult. It’s how close you are. It’s how your signature perfume smells ten times stronger, a scent that only ever seems to belong to you.
It’s the way your skin glows in the soft light, how you smell like spring and look like something he should never touch.
And all he can think is that he wishes it were him taking you tonight, not Ricky.
Instead, he’s here, helping you get ready for someone else. You look so breathtakingly beautiful, he almost doesn’t want you to leave. He doesn’t want anyone else to see you the way he does.
“Almost got it,” he says under his breath, but the metal slips again. He exhales a shaky laugh. “What the-”
You laugh softly, not annoyed at all. “Do you want me to hold it for you?”
“No,” he says too quickly. He wants to do this for you. He wants his hands to do something gentle for once. Finally, the clasp clicks into place, and he lets out a breath.
“There,” he says, letting your wrist go slowly. “Perfect.”
You turn your hand over to admire the bracelet, then glance up at him. “Thanks. You okay? You look kind of flushed.”
He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “Nah, it’s just hot in here,” he lies, even though you both know it’s not.
But you don’t push it. Instead, you smile and he realizes it’s not the perfume or the bracelet or the lighting that’s making him dizzy.
at first, you thought you imagined it — the soft rap on the door barely cutting through the low hum of your playlist and the quiet buzz of thoughts spinning aimlessly in your head. but then it came again, just a little firmer.
you pulled the door open, half-distracted, not expecting anything — and then everything else fell away.
gyuvin was standing there. cheeks flushed from the night air, hoodie sleeves scrunched at the elbows, and a slightly chaotic bouquet of flowers clenched in one hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
he wasn’t smiling, not in the usual goofy way — this time it was soft. hesitant. a little nervous. the kind of smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing, and was scared of it anyway.
“hey,” he said, voice quiet like the hallway wasn’t ready to hear it.
you blinked. “gyuvin... what are you doing here?”
“i couldn’t wait anymore.”
he held the flowers out between them — sunflowers, baby’s breath, two pink peonies, something purple that might’ve been lavender, and a red rose tucked right in the center. a mess, really. but a beautiful one.
“i don’t know what any of these are supposed to mean,” he admitted, eyes flicking between the bouquet and your face. “i just picked the ones that felt like you. like sunshine. like home.”
your fingers brushed the petals, stunned into stillness. “you remembered i like peonies.”
“i remember everything about you,” gyuvin said, with a kind of quiet certainty that made your chest ache. “always have.”
something shifted in the air then — the kind of silence that doesn’t ask to be filled, but felt heavy and familiar.
gyuvin took a slow breath. “i’ve been in love with you for a long time. longer than i want to admit. and i told myself it wasn’t the right time, or that i was imagining it, or maybe you didn’t feel the same... but none of that ever made it go away.”
he looked at you like he was memorizing something for the last time. “i think i started falling for you when you brought me snacks before my company audition before we even knew each other. or maybe it was when you offered to walk with me in the rain because you forgot your umbrella too and didn’t want me to feel like an idiot. or maybe it was just always there.”
your throat felt tight. like every second you’d spent pretending it was one-sided had caught up all at once.
“you could’ve told me,” you said softly.
“i was scared,” gyuvin breathed. “because it was you. because this mattered. and the truth is, i don’t want to be your maybe anymore. i want to be your boyfriend. officially. publicly. completely.”
he dropped his hand to his side, bouquet tilting just a little. “so... will you?”
you didn’t say anything at first. just stared at him — at the boy you had loved in quiet corners, in passing glances, in every almost-confession they’d swallowed for years.
and then you laughed. not because it was funny, but because it was relief years of it, crashing down like a wave.
“i thought i was the only one,” you whispered. “i thought i was just imagining everything.”
you stepped forward, and gyuvin’s breath caught. you reached out, curling their fingers gently around his hoodie sleeve, grounding yourself in the realness of him
“yes,” you said. “of course i’ll be your boyfriend.”
the look on his face was almost too much. like every version of joy he’d ever felt collided at once.
“wait—really?” he blinked.
“yes,” you repeated, smiling so wide it almost hurt. “really.”
gyuvin didn’t even try to hold back — he dropped the flowers entirely, arms sliding around your waist as he pulled you into the kind of hug that said finally. you buried your face in his shoulder, laughing softly into the fabric of his hoodie.
they stood there for a while, just breathing each other in, heartbeats syncing like they had always meant to.
“we were so dumb,” you mumbled.
“yeah,” gyuvin whispered, pressing his cheek to your temple. “but we made it.”
SYNOPSIS ✮ a company gave you the opportunity to finally live your dreams, but as a result, you had to leave the company you were at and your best friend. 2 years later you watch as he makes a name of his own on boys planet. the unrequited love you fought away for years coming back stronger than before.
Every morning, he’d plop down beside you with that big, carefree grin. Always the first to greet you. Always dragging you to lunch. Always finding excuses to walk you home, even if his house was in the opposite direction.
It had always been Gyuvin—until the rumors started.
“Hey, did you hear? M/n and Jaehyun look good together.”
“They’re always hanging out for club meetings, right? Something’s going on~”
It started small—harmless teases from classmates. But suddenly, your name and Myung Jaehyun’s were always linked, always whispered together in the halls.
You brushed it off. Gyuvin didn’t.
“You’ve been with him a lot lately,” Gyuvin’s tone was light, but the quick clench of his jaw betrayed him.
“It’s for the school event. You know that.”
“Oh, I know. Everyone knows,” he muttered, eyes flicking away. “Just didn’t think you’d… get shipped with him.”
You laughed. “What, you jealous or something?”
Gyuvin’s smirk faltered.
“Nah. Why would I be?”
But you noticed the shift.
How he suddenly showed up to your club meetings, pretending to “pass by.”
How he slung his arm over your shoulder a little too tightly when Jaehyun was around.
How his jokes came out a little too sharp, his usual sunshine energy turning cloudy whenever the topic of Jaehyun came up.
One day, you caught him staring at you across the classroom—his eyes narrowed, teeth worrying his lower lip.
You waved at him. He looked away.
It wasn’t like him.
And it bothered you more than you wanted to admit.
The tension finally snapped after school.
You were walking alone when Gyuvin appeared from behind, grabbing your wrist.
“Hey,” he called out, voice lower than usual. “Can we… talk?”
You turned, confused by the serious look on his face. “Yeah? What’s up?”
He let out a breath, gaze flickering to the ground. “About you and Jaehyun.”
You blinked. “What about us?”
“That’s the thing. Why does it sound like there’s an us between you and him?”
You frowned. “It’s just a school project, Gyuvin. People are just teasing.”
His hand tightened around your wrist. “But you—you don’t say anything. You don’t deny it. You just laugh it off like it’s nothing.”
“Because it is nothing.”
“Is it really?” he asked, stepping closer. His usual playful barrier had completely crumbled, leaving him raw, vulnerable. “Do you like him?”
Your heart skipped.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I—”
His voice cracked. He shook his head and tried again, this time softer, like the words would collapse if he said them too loud.
“Because I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for so long. And seeing you with him—seeing everyone talk like you’re his—” He breathed out shakily. “It drives me crazy.”
You stared at him, warmth blooming in your chest.
“You idiot,” you whispered, smiling despite your racing heart. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
His ears turned pink, his grip loosening. “I thought… maybe you didn’t feel the same.”
“Of course I do.”
You stepped closer, until your foreheads almost touched.
“Why do you think I only let you walk me home?”
Gyuvin’s breath hitched.
“Wait… seriously? You like me?”
You laughed, bumping your head lightly against his. “Seriously.”
The grin you loved finally returned, wide and dazzling. “Then… can I kiss you?”
“You better.”
When his lips met yours, it was soft, a little clumsy, but so perfectly you and him.
And just like that, the rumors didn’t matter anymore. Because everyone would know now—it was always Gyuvin.
The first time you see it, you almost don’t recognize it for what it is.
You’re scrolling through streaming options when it appears—a small indie film with a vague title and a brief, unremarkable description. You don’t expect much. You press play without thinking.
The movie hums to life, the screen dimly lit, the colors muted. It moves slowly, quietly, every frame weighed down with something unsaid. The plot is hardly the point—it’s the in-between moments that catch you. The slight shift in a glance, the brush of two hands that don’t quite hold, the lingering pause before words that are never spoken. The ache of it creeps into your chest like a familiar weight.
It’s the way the film aches with the word almost that sends a chill through you.
And you shouldn’t be thinking of him, but you are.
Gyuvin.
You lean forward, elbows pressed into your knees, watching the characters circle one another, always too close and too far. You watch the way the man looks at her—the same way Gyuvin used to look at you, with that soft but careful hesitation. Like he wanted to step closer but wasn’t sure if you’d let him. Like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him stay.
The ending comes like a gut punch. No resolution. No confession. Just two people standing on the precipice of something that never fully happens. The credits roll before it ever does.
You sit still, heart lodged somewhere in your throat, your fingers slack around the wine glass you forgot you were holding. You stare at the dark screen long after the movie ends.
Your own name is printed on the cover of the book sitting on the coffee table beside you. A small bestseller sticker clings to the corner, bright and gold. You should be proud of it. People have called it hauntingly beautiful, heartbreak in prose. They call you a master of subtle tragedy.
You should feel triumphant.
Instead, your chest aches with the knowledge that they’re reading your ghosts.
Because you know this story. You lived it.
And if you’re right—if the way the protagonist lingers on his almost-love feels so deeply, achingly real—then you are not the only one still carrying the weight of the past.
-
Gyuvin doesn’t expect to see your name again.
He certainly doesn’t expect it on the cover of a book sitting in the hands of one of his co-stars.
“Have you read this?” they ask between takes, flipping idly through the pages, their face flushed from the heat of the stage lights. “It’s like… God, it just feels so real. You know that feeling when you almost have something? When you almost love someone?”
His heart clenches.
Because yes, he knows.
He glances at the cover and nearly laughs aloud at the irony. Your name, printed in sharp, bold lettering, stares back at him. He feels the breath leave his lungs. For a moment, he forgets how to fill them again.
He doesn’t know how to explain it—the rush of your ghost all over again, the weight of the memories he thought he had buried. He remembers the warmth of your palm against his once, just briefly, before you slipped away. He remembers the half-smile you gave him in that café the day you both realized what was breaking between you.
He takes the book from his co-star with fingers that aren’t steady.
And he reads.
He reads on the drive home, the script for tomorrow’s scene forgotten on his lap. He reads when he gets into bed, the night dark and silent except for the occasional sound of him turning a page. His eyes flick over words that feel like pieces of you. Phrases that strike him with a sharp familiarity—a line about a crowded subway platform where you once stood together, too close and too afraid. A description of the way she rubs her thumb over the rim of her glass—something you always did without noticing.
By the time he turns the last page, his hands are shaking.
Because he knows.
This isn’t just a novel. It’s his story. Your story.
He closes the book and presses it to his chest. His eyes slip shut, and he wonders if you knew. If you saw the film and recognized yourself in it. If you still think of him the way he still thinks of you—in unfinished sentences and almosts.
He scrolls through his contacts, your number still there. Untouched. Unchanged.
He almost calls.
But he doesn’t.
Not yet.
-
The second time you see the movie, it’s in a theater.
You hadn’t planned on going, but you’d caught the name of the director in a passing review and felt the familiar jolt in your chest. You’d bought a ticket without thinking, sitting alone near the back, gripping the fabric of your coat too tightly.
You watch it again. And this time, it breaks you.
You recognize the quiet mannerisms, the stolen glances, the hesitation written into the actors’ every breath. You recognize your own lines—words you once spoke in private, now uttered by strangers on a dimly lit screen. The dialogue cuts you open in ways the book never did.
And you know, without a shadow of a doubt, who wrote it.
You find his name in the credits. Co-writer.
Gyuvin.
You sit frozen as the audience around you rises and shuffles out. You stay long after the credits end, your heart lodged somewhere beneath your ribs.
He had told your story.
And you had written his.
When you finally stand, your hands are shaking. You dig your phone from your pocket, staring at his name in your contacts. You hover over it, your breath uneven, your thumb trembling against the screen.
You almost call.
But you don’t.
Not yet.
-
The third time you see the movie, he’s beside you.
You hadn’t planned on it. You didn’t expect him to reach out first. But he did. A short message, tentative, almost formal.
I saw your book. It was beautiful. Can we talk?
You had stared at your phone, pulse stuttering in your throat. And then, almost without thinking, you said yes.
And now here you are, in a small, half-empty theater, sitting side by side. The film plays again, but neither of you are really watching.
Your hands sit on the armrest, knuckles nearly touching. The weight of everything hangs in the space between your fingers.
When the protagonist brushes his hand against hers but doesn’t hold it, Gyuvin’s pinky nudges yours. It’s so soft you barely feel it. But you do.
You glance at him, and he’s already looking at you.
And this time, you don’t look away.
When the credits roll, neither of you move. You let the music play, let the words and names scroll by. And when his hand finds yours in the dark, he doesn’t let go.
This time, he doesn’t almost love you.
He just loves you.
And you love him too.
The theater lights slowly brighten, casting a soft glow over the empty rows, but neither of you move. The credits finish scrolling, the screen fades to black, and the faint hum of the projector dies.
Gyuvin’s hand is still in yours. Warm. Steady. Real.
You glance down at where your fingers are tangled together, almost afraid to breathe too hard, terrified that if you move, you’ll break the spell. But his grip is sure, and when his thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, the tension in your chest unspools.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
The silence between you is familiar, but it no longer feels heavy with unfinished words. It’s softer now. Full. Like everything that had once been left unsaid is resting there between you, no longer a weight, but a presence.
Gyuvin’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks. Barely above a whisper.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
You turn toward him, your heart clenching at the look in his eyes—raw and unguarded, the way you remember him when it was just the two of you. Before the almosts.
“I knew,” you breathe.
His fingers tighten around yours, almost imperceptibly. Like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. Like he doesn’t want to risk another almost.
Your throat feels tight, but you force yourself to speak, even though your voice wavers.
“I read your name in the credits.” You swallow thickly. “And I—I knew it was you. I could feel it. Every scene. Every word.” Your voice is barely above a breath. “You told our story.”
He releases a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, but his eyes are glassy, and his smile is tremulous. “You wrote it first.”
For a long moment, you just stare at him, the words hanging between you. Your chest tightens with the knowledge of all the time you lost—years spent in the hollow ache of almost. Years of walking away instead of reaching out.
You should say something. But you’re afraid that if you speak, it’ll shatter the moment.
Gyuvin’s gaze flickers to your mouth.
And this time, he doesn’t hesitate.
He leans forward, slow and deliberate, giving you time to pull back. But you don’t. You tilt into him, closing the space between you, and when his lips meet yours, you feel the ground beneath you steady.
The kiss is warm and achingly familiar. It tastes like old memories—of hands that once brushed but never held, of glances that lingered too long, of goodbyes neither of you ever meant.
But this isn’t a memory. It’s here. It’s now.
You move closer without thinking, your free hand coming up to clutch softly at the fabric of his jacket, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His fingers slide through your hair, keeping you close. Like he’s making up for all the times he wanted to hold you but didn’t. Like he’s promising he won’t let you slip through his fingers again.
When you finally part, you stay close, your foreheads brushing. His eyes are wide, still holding the remnants of disbelief.
“You stayed,” you whisper.
“I’m not leaving,” he breathes.
You let out a small, broken laugh, the kind that only comes when you’re holding back tears. Your hand finds his again, and you squeeze.
And for the first time in years, there is no almost.
There is only this.
You leave the theater hand in hand, walking slowly along the quiet street. The night is cool, but you don’t feel it. You’re too caught up in the warmth of his palm against yours, in the way your steps fall in time without thinking.
You don’t talk much. You don’t need to. It’s enough just to be near him again, to feel the warmth of his body beside you.
At one point, he glances over, his voice low and rough with sincerity.
“I read your book. Twice.” He exhales softly, almost sheepish. “I memorized whole lines.”
You stop walking, the confession catching you off guard. Slowly, you turn to him.
His eyes are steady on yours, but there’s a tenderness in them that makes your breath catch.
“I kept trying to convince myself it wasn’t about us,” he says quietly. “That it was just fiction. But I knew.” His fingers brush along the inside of your wrist, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew it was you.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, blinking against the sting in your eyes.
“And the film?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now. “You knew I’d recognize it?”
Gyuvin’s lips tug into a wistful smile. “I hoped you would.” He lifts your hand, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. “I was scared you wouldn’t.”
You stare at him, taking in every detail—the warmth in his eyes, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm. You feel the steady beat of his heart, and you wonder how you ever lived without it pressed against you.
“I missed you,” you breathe. The words spill out of you before you can stop them, unpolished and trembling, but true. “I missed you so much, Gyuvin.”
He exhales softly, his eyes glimmering with the same unguarded affection you remember so clearly.
“I missed you too.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles again, slow and reverent. “So much.”
You don’t stop him when he leans in again. You meet him halfway, kissing him with years of unspoken words. It’s softer this time, slower, but it carries the weight of everything you never said.
When you pull back, he doesn’t let you go. He rests his forehead against yours, keeping you close.
“Let’s not waste any more time,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a breath.
pairing , gyuvin, hao, gunwook, ricky x gn!reader (separate)
genre , fluff, crack
warnings , swearing, mentions of cannibalism
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[ note: hey. happy 2025. i've been gatekeeping these extras i made for too long, get it? I don't think people remember these instagram stories anymore hehe, will probably make a masterlist tomorrow, so uh, hope you guys can enjoy this.. bye. yura out. ]
summary. things gyuvin does in a relationship.
genre. fluff. headcanons.
warnings. i feel like this is repetitive idk... i think i just yapped and its just a lot of word vomit... but maybe its actually good IDK SAVE ME. also not proofread thoroughly.
pairing. gyuvin x fem!reader.
wc. 814.
request. requested by 🥟 anon.
a/n. this would've been husband headcanons or like husband material things like the matthew fic but gyuvin is only 19 like... marriage feels too much for him so i just kept the same feel without giving it that label so hopefully that makes sense.
PRINCESS TREATMENT
He treats you like you’re the world’s most precious jewel. Compliments flow out of his mouth effortlessly. It’s like he doesn’t even need to think about it. His brain could supply him with hundreds of words to tell you how gorgeous you are to him. He isn’t quite sure how he managed to pull such a goddess, but he knows for sure that he’s not going to lose you now that he has you. Whenever you get dressed up for a date or party, he just stares at you through the mirror, completely awestruck. He knows he’s handsome as well. He knows he matches up to you, but admiring you and how perfect you look makes him feel so grateful to have you in his life. Whenever he’s admiring you, whether it’s when you’ve done your best to look your prettiest, or when you’re in your pyjamas with messy hair and bags under your eyes, Gyuvin is reminded of all the things that make you so lovable and beautiful. It’s in these moments that he gets the most sentimental and romantic.
CHEERS YOU UP
He always makes you smile. He’s one of the only people who can cheer you up no matter what. Especially when you’ve had an extremely hard day or week. If you’re upset and angry at him, he still knows how to make you smile. Gyuvin knows when cracking a joke or showing you a meme will make you feel better— sometimes it’s exactly what is needed to lift your mood up just enough that his kisses and words can do the rest. You put up a wall sometimes when you get mad, determined to not let Gyuvin get past that wall. But he knows you inside and out, and he knows what the weak points are. His kisses, his touch, his promises. You are just as in love with him as he is with you, and he’s fully confident that you can get past any disagreements or hard times when you work together. Even before you’ve talked about marriage, in Gyuvin’s mind, you are already a team.
GIFTS
Gyuvin knows you better than anyone, and he loves buying you things that he knows fits your taste perfectly. Whether it’s clothes, jewelry, plushies, mugs, or any random trinket that he sees at the store and just has you written all over, he will buy it and bring it home to you. Seeing your reaction— your smile and bright eyes— it’s something he’ll never get tired of. It makes his chest feel warm and fuzzy. Seeing you happy makes him happy.
PROTECTS YOU
He has some inner conflict in his brain. Because, on one hand, he’s so proud of you and thinks you’re so perfect that the whole world should know. He wishes everyone could see you as he sees you. But he knows that the world is cruel and the people have been cruel to you in the past. He wants to protect you, to shield you from everyone else because he knows that no one else would treat you as well as he would. Whenever you’re out together, he keeps his guard up. He’s always observing you to see if you ever get uncomfortable, as well as surveying the people around him. Gyuvin wouldn’t label it as jealousy. He’s so confident and secure in his relationship with you, he has absolutely no worries. But he does care about your comfort, which is why he can be harsher to strangers who try to start a conversation with you.
FEELS SAFE WITH YOU
You’re his safe person. Possibly the only person in the world he doesn’t have to conceal anything from. After a long day, all he wants to do is come home to you and curl up in your arms. That’s where his home is, not a place, but just you. Being close to you, feeling your soft skin and breathing the scent of your shampoo. It instantly calms him down and helps him reset. He has doubts and worries about the future like anyone does, but he knows that if he’s with you, he can overcome anything.
PLANS FOR THE FUTURE
He’s very sentimental and likes to talk about the future a lot. He doesn’t like uncertainty and wants to always know that you’re on the same page as him. He makes promises and stays loyal to them no matter what. It’s one of the traits that makes Gyuvin the most romantic. He really likes the idea of being together forever and being committed to one person your entire life. Breaking up is not something that would ever cross Gyuvin’s mind; even if he’s mad at you, or if you’ve been arguing for hours. In the end, he knows that you are more precious to him than anything and that he would do everything in his power to keep you by his side. He promises this to you with many rings over the years.
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