𐔌 HOME ISN'T A PLACE, IT'S YOU. ⸝ straykids 𝜗𝜚
𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 、you come home after a terrible, exhausting day.
( hyungs ) ｡ bf!𝓈kz ❤︎ 𝒻!rea 𓂃 ࣪⠀ ˖ 315O ᥬᩤ ── click / library
🥛🍪 fluff, cursing, comfort, intimacy 𑣲 headcanons.
𑁍ࠬ ܓ 𝑙𝘰𝜈𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𓈒 𓈒 no-repost sunday!!!!!!!! it has been a while since i've posted hcs; i lowkey teared up writing changbin's. this is partially proofread so lmk if there are any spelling/grammar errors! happy reading!
𐔌 chan 🫧 ˖ ࣪
the second you unlock the door, this man already knows. he looks up from whatever he's doing; which probably was another track on his laptop; and his face changes instantly.
he pauses the music, puts his phone down; full attention on you. no questions yet.. just that soft, worried eye smile fading into concern.
he'd open his arms without a word.
"c'mere,"
he'd say, in that light, steady voice that already feels like a weighted blanket.
if you drop your bag, he picks it up for you. if you forget your shoes, he nudges them off with his foot. you don't even notice; he just handles it.
then, he hugs you properly. both arms around you, your head on his chest, his chin resting on the top it. the kind of hug where your body actually relaxes because it feels safe to.
he definitely lets you cling; won't tease, won't comment. if you bury your face into his hoodie and just stand there, he stays still and rubs slow circles into your back. if you're overstimulated and quiet, he doesn't push conversation.
it's okay, baby. you're home. i've gotcha."
he'd kiss the side of your head, your hairline, your temple; soft, grounding kisses, not playfully, but in a way which feels like he's washing away all of today's tiredness with fluttering pecks, signalling, 'i'm here.'
"do you wanna talk.. or just exist for a bit, hm?"
whatever you choose, he follows your lead. no 'fixing it' unless you ask. because that's how it's always been with you two; you'd be completely verbal about it if something really bothers you.
if you say nothing, he guides you to the couch or bed with a hand on your lower back, thumb rubbing soothingly like muscle memory.
he sits you down and immediately pulls you into his lap or beside him, legs tangled !!!!! physical affection is his language and he uses it like medicine for sure.
if you're tense, he starts massaging your shoulders without asking. strong hands, gentle pressure.
"you're holding everything here,"
he'd murmur, like he's noticed this a hundred times before.
he presses his forehead to yours, eye smile back just a little.
"bad day doesn't get to follow you home, yeah?"
if you do vent, he listens fully. no interruptions. no glancing at his phone. his brows knit together, jaw tight; not angry at you, but at whoever or whatever hurt you.
when you'd mention someone being unfair to you, his protective side flickers.
"they don't get to talk to you like that,"
he never invalidates your feelings. ever.
"that would've overwhelmed anyone," "you're not dramatic," "you're allowed to be tired."
if you apologize for being a mess, he immediately shuts that down.
"hey. no. don't do that. you don't need to be 'okay' for me."
he makes you sit while he handles the food. whether it's cooking, reheating leftovers, or ordering in, he refuses to let you stress over food choices and decide.
"i've got it baby, just rest, alright?"
he brings you food and watches to make sure you actually eat. not hovering, just present. proud when you finish even a little.
if you're touch-starved and needy, he becomes a teddy bear 100%. arms around you, legs caging you in, chin on your shoulder. zero shame about it.
he lets you steal his hoodie. doesn't even pretend to complain.
"yeah yeah, it's yours anyway~" with a grin.
if you're on the verge of tears, he doesn't panic. he just pulls you closer and,
"let it alllll out. i'm not goin' anywhere."
he wipes your tears with his thumb, slow and careful, like he's afraid to hurt you even accidentally.
if you fall silent after crying, he hums softly. sometimes unfinished melodies, sometimes songs he hasn't released yet. music is how he soothes himself, and you.
if you want distraction, he'll crack dumb jokes just to hear you exhale a laugh.
"okay but imagine me beefing with a cat. i'd win."
if you want quiet, he matches your silence. breathing steady, grounding, arm heavy around your waist.
then later, when you're calmer, he checks in again.
"how's your head now, hm?"
he runs you a warm shower or bath if you look drained. sets everything up. towel ready. pajamas laid out. no applause needed.
he sits on the bathroom floor sometimes, just to keep you company.
"i like being near you,"
later in the night, he holds you extra close. one arm around your waist, the other hand tucked under your shirt, warm and reassuring.
if you're restless, he adjusts until you're comfortable; even if it means sacrificing his own sleep (as usual).
right before you drift off, he'd kiss your forehead,
"i'm really proud of you for getting through today."
and if you mumble a tiiiny 'i love you' half-asleep, he'd smile into your hair,
"i love you always. more than you know."
𐔌 minho 🍮 ˖ ࣪
he definitely knows. he always knows. (ikykwklk)
you don't even have to say anything; your footsteps are slower, your bag drops a little too hard, and you don't announce yourself like usual.
he doesn't rush you. no immediate questions, no 'what happened, jagi?'
instead, you'd hear a casual, "you're home," from the living room.
soonie, doongi, and dori immediately read your energy and swarm you like tiny therapists. minho watches with a fond smirk.
"see? even the cats know you had a rough one."
he gives you space.. but not distance.
minho isn't the type to crowd you when you're overwhelmed. he lets you kick off your shoes, shrug off your jacket, and exist for a second.
but he does hover nearby, pretending to scroll on his phone, leaning against the counter, staying within arm's reach like an anchor.
if you sigh a little too hard, he'll glance over,
"yeah.. that bad, huh?"
before you even realize you're hungry, he's already in the kitchen. sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy, quietly focused.
he doesn't ask what you want. he knows your comfort foods, the ones that don't overwhelm you, and feel warm and safe instead.
if you apologize for being quiet or grumpy, he shuts it down immediately.
"don't. you're allowed to have bad days here."
he's not super touchy, but tonight? he wouldn't move if you lean into him. wouldn't tease you for it either. just lets you rest your forehead against his shoulder while he stirs something on the stove.
one hand stays busy, the other comes up to rest lightly on your back, barely moving, just there.
if you flinch from noise or movement, he notices instantly and lowers the volume, closes cabinets softly, switches off unnecessary lights.
once you're settled on the couch, wrapped in a tee that is absolutely his, he'll glance at you and smirk.
"wow. you look like life personally attacked you today."
you'd glare weakly and he'd go like..
"good thing you came home to me, hm?"
he never jokes about your feelings; only around them, carefully, like he's trying to make you breathe again.
soondoongdori are very much there for emotional support. and some attention.
minho places soonie on your lap like it's intentional. then dori. then suddenly you're buried under fur and warmth.
"they're working overtime today,"
he'd say, watching you melt just a little.
if one of them purrs particularly loud, he'd click his tongue. "show-off."
you swear he's smiling more at you than at them, though he'll deny it.
and when you finally talk.. you don't dump everything all at once; you ramble. you stop mid sentence. and you repeat yourself.
minho just listens. like, actually listens. no interrupting, nothing unless you ask. just quiet nods, soft hums, the occasional 'that's messed up,' or 'they were wrong for that."
if you start blaming yourself, that's when he steps in.
"yah, no. do not do that."
later, he won't pull you into a dramatic hug, but if you curl into his side, he adjusts automatically, arm settling around you like it's always been there.
his thumb absentmindedly traces small patterns on your arm, steady, and not in a flashy or intense way.
if you fall silent again, he presses a kiss to the top of your head like it's nothing. like it means everything.
food fixes more than he admits!!! he sets a bowl in front of you and watches closely to make sure you actually eat. pretends he's not monitoring every bite.
"eat slow," "you don't have to rush anymore, you know."
if you say it tastes really good, he shrugs like it's no big deal; but the corners of his mouth lift anyway.
later, when the exhaustion hits, he helps you get ready for bed without making it obvious. lays out your pajamas too. hands you a towel. turns off harsh lights.
if you stand there zoning out, he lightly bumps your shoulder.
"hey. earth to you."
when you finally crawl into bed, he joins you without his usual commentary.
as you're drifting off, he'd murmur a few words,
"tomorrow might still suck… but it won't suck like today."
if you mumble a thank you, he'd scoff,
"you don't have to thank me for doing my job."
his arm tightens around you just a bit.
"sleep. i've got you."
and you'd believe him, because with minho, love isn't loud. it's warm, like freshly cooked food, dimmed lights, three cats purring, and a man who doesn't fix your problems, but makes the world feel better enough that you can breathe again, eliminating the negativity.
𐔌 changbin 🧸 ˖ ࣪
he was probably reallllyyy excited and waiting for you to get home; but the minute you walk in, he'd understand that something's wrong.
and that's probably because you don't say anything. your shoulders are slumped, shoes kicked off messily, bag dropped by the door instead of hung up. he looks up from wherever he is and instantly softens.
"oh… baby.."
his voice would drop, not quiet-quiet, but gentle-loud, like he's wrapping you in sound.
you barely get the door closed before he's hugging you.
full body hug. arms around your back, chin on your head, squeezing you tight like he's trying to absorb the stress out of you.
he smells like laundry detergent and comfort.
"c'mere. i got you. i got you."
he doesn't ask questions right away.
zero pressure. until you're ready. he just holds you, swaying a little, rubbing your back in slow circles with those big hands.
"you don't gotta talk yet. or ever. i'm just here, okay?"
if you look even slightly close to crying, he panics, but in a loving way.
"hey– no no no, nope, we're not letting today win,"
then immediately softer, forehead pressed to yours,
"it's okay if you cry though. i'll cry with you if you want."
he takes your bag, your jacket, your emotional burden. literally. he grabs your stuff and puts it away for you like,
"sit. sit down. don't move. you've done enough today."
treats you like royalty who's just returned from battle.
binnie is biiiiig on physical grounding.
pulls you onto the couch, sits first, then tugs you right into his lap or chest without asking, because he knows you love it.
your back against his front, his arms wrapped around you, chin tucked into your neck.
"you're safe. you're home."
he talks. a lot. but never overwhelms you.
he'll ramble gently, cracking weird jokes, narrating random thoughts, anything to pull you out of your head.
"okay but listen– today i tried to open a jar and lost the fight. me. a professional gym rat. can you believe that?"
you snort despite yourself. he beams. mission successful.
nicknames multiply by ten on bad days.
"my baby!" "angel.." "pretty girl." "my princess." "tiny thing." "my everything."
he says them confidently, loudly, with his whole chest. no embarrassment. that's his girl.
he insists you eat. gently but firmly.
he won't nag away, but he'd convince you more like a knight guarding his queen.
"have you eaten?"
if you shake your head, he's already halfway to the kitchen.
"okay. that's illegal. sit tight."
he cooks or orders exactly what you like.
comfort food. warm food. something easy.
he'll bring it to you, sit next to you, and literally feed you if you're too tired to lift a fork.
"open up. good girl."
then laughs in that bright and melodious way when you glare.
he praises you for surviving the day.
"i'm serious, you did incredibly amazing today." "even if today sucked, you didn't."
he'd say it all like it's a fact, not a compliment.
if you want silence, he gives you quiet affection.
zero talking. only hugs. head kisses. his hand rubbing your thigh, thumb drawing little hearts.
he'll rest his cheek against your head and breathe with you until your body relaxes.
if you want distraction, he goes full entertainer mode.
pulls out impressions, dumb dances, exaggerated storytelling.
"okay so picture this; me, dramatic lighting, heroic music-"
you'd laugh despite yourself. he fist-pumps like he just won a prize.
he is not afraid to baby you. at all.
blanket tucked around you. sweater pulled over your hands.
"too cold? too hot? need water? your chapstick? another kiss?"
he loves taking care of you. absoluuutely loves it.
hugs are his main weapon against bad days; from behind. from the side. sitting. standing. random surprise hugs in the hallway.
"you didn't get your hourly hug yet."
when you finally talk, he listens like it's a study sesh.
no interrupting. no minimizing. only nodding, eyebrows furrowed, holding your hands.
"that sounds exhausting." "you didn't deserve that!" "i'm so so so proud of you for getting through it."
if you blame yourself, he shuts that down immediately.
"nope. absolutely not." "you're allowed to have bad days. you're human, not a machine."
he kisses your stress away. literally.
forehead. cheek. nose. hands. shoulders.
"that one's for your brain. that one's for your heart. that one's just because you're cute."
by the end of the night, you're curled up together.
your head on his chest, his arm around you, tv playing something dumb in the background.
he hums softly, laughs at his own jokes, presses kisses into your hair.
and before bed, he makes sure you feel loved.
"today might've sucked, but tomorrow doesn't stand a chance, right angel?" "you've got me, okay baby? always."
and when you fall asleep, he stays awake a little longer, holding and protecting you.
probably thinking, i'll take every bad day if it means i get to be her safe place.
𐔌 hyunjin 🥟 ˖ ࣪
he hears the door before he sees you. the keys. the familiar shuffle. he's already smiling wide asl because you're home.
he was literally mid-thought like 'oh i should show her that dumb video or maybe tonight we cook together!!' an extreeemly excited dumpling!!!
then he looks up. and it's subtle. but he notices everything about you. the way your shoulders are tense. how you don't kick your shoes off dramatically like usual. how your eyes look a little far away. and immediately, everything in him softens.
he just walks over slowly and gently takes your bag off your shoulder like it weighs a gazillion pounds.
"hey.. hey, angel," "come here, baby."
he'd murmur, voice very low and calm, like he's afraid loudness might crack you open.
he doesn't pull you into a tight hug. he just opens his arms and lets you choose. and when you step into him, he wraps around you like a blanket that knows your exact temperature.
his chin rests on the top of your head. his hands are warm. one on your back, one rubbing slow circles between your shoulders. nothing rushed. nothing overwhelming.
"shhh, don't say anything," "i've got you. just breathe, yeah?"
he smells like vanilla and something comforting and very home. and the second you sigh into his chest, he exhales too, like he was holding his breath for you.
hyunjin is very good at being quiet for you. he doesn't fill the silence with jokes. he just exists beside you.
after a minute, he presses the softest kiss into your hair. then another. then another.
"my poor angel," "looks like today tried to fight you, huh?"
if you nod or mumble something incoherent, he wouldn't laugh, as he would usually; instead he'd just hum understandingly, like 'yeah, this fuckass world does that sometimes'.
he'd gently guide you to the couch, hands never leaving you. sits you down, then immediately sits beside you, legs tangled with yours. one arm draped over you, pulling you into his side.
he grabs a blanket without asking. tucks it around you with absurd care, like you're fragile glass. makes sure your feet are covered. always the cold feet!!
"comfort plush hyune at your service, ma'am,"
he'd say softly, trying to coax the tiniest smile out of you.
"i'm gonna be very annoying about loving you now."
his petnames for you come out naturally when he's like this.
"baby," "my love!" "sweetheart." "my pretty, pretttyyy girl." "angel?" "my heart,"
if you lean into him, he grins just a little, dimples appearing even though he's trying to stay calm. he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers sweet words to you.
"yeah, there you go baby." "get all comfy, alright?"
he plays with your fingers. traces your knuckles. sometimes he just holds your hand against his chest so you can feel his slow and steady heartbeat.
"you're safe here," "nothing wants anything from you right now. not even me."
he'll offer food.
"i can make you something warm if you want. or we can order. or we can eat cereal straight from the box like degenerates."
if you say "later," he nods immediately. "later's perfect."
he adjusts his tone depending on you. if you're quiet, he's quiet. if you're sniffly, he jokes a little, just enough to make you breathe out through your nose.
"i know today was loud," "but you, my love, don't have to be loud here. you can be small with me, your jinnie."
he'd speak, brushing your hair back.
sometimes he rests his forehead against yours, crescent eyes half-lidded, just staring like you're something precious he's trying to memorize.
"you're doing so good," "even when it doesn't feel like it, especially then."
if you finally talk, ranting, rambling, half-crying, he listens like it's poetry.
"mhm," "yeah," "that makes sense," "they did not."
at one point he laughs softly, not at you, never; but at how dramatic the world is for daring to upset you. his laugh is warm and heart-filling and makes the room feel lighter.
he'd speak after a while, standing and holding his hands out to you.
"c'mon, let's get you into comfy clothes. the good ones, yeah? the ones lixie tries to steal."
he lets you wear his translucent shirt, over your strap top. obviously. it smells like him. he pretends to complain but absolutely loves it.
later, when you're curled up again, head on his chest, he presses a kiss to your forehead,
"i'm really glad you came home to me."
and when you finally relax, body heavy with comfort, he smiles to himself and thinks, this. this is love. no fireworks or noise. just being the place you land when the day is too much.
he holds you a little tighter and murmurs, half asleep,
"tomorrow can deal with itself. tonight's ours, okay?"
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