𓋰 Kai is just so cute ── you can't help but be a little mean...
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀nerd!휴닝카이 x bully!reader (f) bullying shy!kai reader is a little very nasty kinda perv!kai meandom!reader hair pulling humiliation kink she spits his cum back onto his face blowjob not proofread
nerd!휴닝카이 who ogles you in class, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as he stares at you. bottom lip trapped between his teeth, pen gripped loosely in one hand, he's all but focusing on the lecture, completely in trance by the sight of you reapplying that sparkly gloss to your lips.
nerd!휴닝카이 who trails aimlessly behind you in the halls, still keep a respectable distance as to not raise any questions. but you notice, how could you not? he was being so painfully obvious. "hey, perv!" you whirl around, a sneer already plastered onto your face and kai stumbles to a halt.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"fuck are you looking at?"
he can't answer that, obviously, because how could he explain that he'd been following you to catch a glimpse of your ass in the short skirt you wear? his ears glow a bright pink when you approach, his gaze dropping to his feet to avoid your scrutinizing glare. you scoff, smacking your sticky lips together as you roll your eyes, "weirdo."
nerd!휴닝카이 who offers to do your homework for you. any means to get closer to you. and you let him with a shrug, dumping your textbooks into his lap before walking away, hips swaying dangerously with each step you take. kai brings the books to his nose, trying to catch your scent on them in vain.
nerd!휴닝카이 stalks you on social media, phone in one hand, cock in the other — he jerks himself off roughly, swallowing down the pathetic whines building in his throat. he swipes through picture after picture, innocent ones of you holding puppies, suggestive ones of you pushing your cleavage toward the camera — those always makes him cum right away.
nerd!휴닝카이 who follows you like a lost puppy, your finished homework in his arms as he tries to give it to you. but you're ignoring him? he's walked behind you like a shadow for ten minutes now, trying to grab your attention and failing each time. you're leading him down vacant hallways, finally slipping inside a small storage unit — and kai goes after you without question.
nerd!휴닝카이 doesn't understand why you're so upset. doesn't understand why you're shoving him up against the wall roughly and jabbing a finger in his face. "who the fuck do you think you are to approach me in front of everyone like that? you fucking loser." you seethe, and kai's cock jumps in his pants at the crude words.
nerd!휴닝카이 can't help but get so turned on by the way you talk to him, each insult sends heat straight to his groin and he has to reach a hand down to subtly try to adjust himself. but you notice, because of course you do. eyebrows shooting high on your forehead, the confusion lasts only a moment before your expression morphs into a sinister one.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"the hell? are you hard right now?"
that only makes him whine as he nods weakly, glancing toward the closed door like he was planning a quick escape route. but you won't let him off the hook that easily. the books are shoved to the floor as you take a step closer, breath so close that it mixes with his own.
nerd!휴닝카이 practically melts when you first kiss him, lips parting to allow your tongue inside his mouth without thinking twice. you're mean, biting on his lip harshly, pulling a pained gasp from his throat as he tries to pull back — only to be stopped by your fingers in his hair — tugging hard.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"pathetic bitch, you wanted this all along? is that why you wanted to help me? hoping I'd suck your tiny dick?"
kai wants to tell you no, wants to shake his head and deny the blunt accusation, but he can't. his cock throbs in his pants, hips jerking forward helplessly when your fingers hover above the zipper. you scoff, pulling away from his lips, now smeared with your sparkly gloss, "fine, have it your way."
nerd!휴닝카이 nearly sees stars when you take him in your mouth. the storage room is dark but he can still make out your face, peering up at him through the shadows where you kneel on the floor. your skirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing more of the skin he'd been so desperate to see all this time.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you got a real tiny dick y'know?"
your lips are still stretched wide around him, tears glistening in your eyes when you force him deeper. "you barely reach the back of my throat." for a moment he can almost believe it, and the thought alone sends a shudder through him as he chokes on a moan, hips thrusting deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag around him.
"fuck, are you trying to kill me? you loser, can't even stay still for a blowjob." and kai nods helplessly, hands grabbing at your shoulders hard enough to bruise. his eyes are squeezed shut, jaw slack as he lets himself by shamelessly loud, not caring who might hear him.
nerd!휴닝카이 cums embarrassingly fast, cock twitching on your tongue before forcing his load down your throat with a whine. you don't swallow, and when you pull off you rise to your feet only to spit his release back into his face.
nerd!휴닝카이 moans at the feeling of his own arousal dripping down his chin, eyes bleary when they find yours. he doesn't move to wipe himself clean, doesn't even bother tucking his soft cock back into his pants as he stares at you with a lopsided grin. you only roll your eyes, already reapplying the gloss across your lips.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"tell anyone about this and you're dead, you hear that, perv?"
then you head out of the storage unit, slamming the door shut behind you and leaving kai a spent, blissed out mess. his gaze flickers down to the books you had forgotten to bring with you, and he scrambles to gather his bearings — then he's rushing after you a second time that day.
FRENCH KISSES: Wow, I know this is a strong start, but French kissing is definitely a Yeonjun thing. It makes sense to me because Yeonjun seems like a very intense and straightforward person. He doesn’t do anything halfway; like when it comes to performing and caring for his members, he fully commits to it. He’s expressive and emotionally intelligent.
He’s playful and flirty, yeah, but I feel like on the inside he’s a person that feels very deeply and isn’t afraid of intimacy with his lover. A French kiss fits Yeonjun because it requires reading the other person well, matching their pace, and being aware of their reactions and body language. The things Yeonjun naturally excels at!!
Plus, French kissing is a very intimate thing. Yeonjun loves holding you close. His love for you is so deep, and French kissing is probably the only way of kissing that shows so much affection. Dragging his tongue against yours is probably the best feeling ever to him. It makes him feel passionate, confident, and close to you.
CHOI SOOBIN
CHEEK KISSES: I feel like cheek kisses as soo soobiee core!! There’s just something about them that makes me align them with Soobin. I don’t know what tho! Soobin is a gentle giant, trust meee👀. He would prioritize your safety and make you feel protected first more than anything. So cheek kisses are definitely a more reassuring type of kiss that says, “I’m here.”
And obviously Soobin isn’t very dominant lmao, he seems more like a nurturing type of person. So to me, cheek kisses don’t have that kind of feeling of overpowerment; it’s mutual. He’s just trying to make sure you feel safe :(( A gentle peck on the cheek is like, “I care about you,” and it always leaves a very warm, lingering feeling. I think it matches Soobin very well.
Plus it’s something he can do in public without making people look at you guys weirdly. It’s safer than kissing you on the mouth. He doesn’t want a lot of attention when you guys kiss in public or in front of close friends, so kissing your cheek is the best option if someone is looking!
CHOI BEOMGYU
NOSE/NECK KISSES: We all know how playful Beomgyu is. He’s mischievous and chaotic; you can see it in TXT's content, but underneath I think you and I both know that he’s very emotional. As you can tell with his solos, he’s passionate, and he has very strong emotions. I think nose and neck kisses are very different from each other, but that just contrasts with how Beomgyu can be playful at one time and very intimate at another.
I view nose kisses as a very playful and gentle gesture. I don’t think it’s something people usually do if they’re not in an intimate relationship, like it’s not used outside of that because it’s an inside gesture just for two people who are close to each other. Not only that, but I also view it as a light way of teasing in a cute way. If Beomgyu wanted to be playful and intimate, he would go to kiss your nose before anything else. It often shocks you as well because you don’t expect it. He likes seeing your wide-eyed expression when he pulls back.
And now with neck kisses, they seem like a very flirty and passionate thing fit for Beomgyu's flirty side! Neck kisses allow him to be emotional with you while being playful. Plus, when you started to let him kiss your neck, he felt proud that you'd let him touch such a vital part of you.
Plus he loves giving you hickeys and watching you squirm under him. This is also because of his playful side…
KANG TAEHYUN
HAND/SHOULDER KISSES: I feel like Taehyun has a deep romantic vibe to him. I think Taehyun doesn’t do anything just to do it. When he shows affection, it’s intentional. Taehyun is a responsible and thoughtful person, so I lean more towards respect and reassurance.
I see hand kisses as respectful and romantic in a subtly way. A hand kiss isn’t a rushed thing. I think they seem more meaningful than performative. Tae would definitely value deep emotional support more than anything else. Hand kisses communicate that well. He kisses your hand to stabilize you rather than heighten your emotions.
Same thing with kissing your shoulder. Shoulder kisses to me seem more like emotional loyalty rather than something sexual. I think kissing there would say you trust and care for the person as a whole. I think this ties to Tae's nurturing and loyal traits. He’d like the feeling of closeness it gives off. I think he’d feel closer to you.
He’ll kiss your shoulder whenever you’re stressed out or upset it’s just a small way of saying he’s still here supporting you through everything.
HUENINGKAI
FOREHEAD/TOP OF THE HEAD KISSES: Kai is known for his soft and sweet personality. So his romantic side is definitely more fun and innocent. I think head kisses suit him well. I think in a relationship he would be tender and loyal. He would express his love in more gentle ways than most. Head kisses are soothing. I think that aligns with his comforting aura.
Like I said, he has a comforting aura, so because of that, he wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable with him, and kissing anywhere else seems too risky, so going for your head is perfect. He would want to build a close and respectful relationship with you. Head kisses seem more like giving than receiving.
I think Kai would also like to build a relationship based off of trust. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so instead he’ll focus on being close rather than sexual intimacy.
Plus he thinks kissing your head is cute! Especially if you’re shorter than him it makes him wanna hold and cuddle you more!
HIIIIIII I wrote this because of my cute new theme!!! It’s feb so these little scenarios I wrote fits well with this month!😛
Did I write this instead of doing school work? Yes yes I did. I really don’t know who my algebra teacher thinks I am. I’m not doing 50+ pages of SAT practice bro😭🙏 gtfoooo💔
Sorry that Kai’s is a little short tbh I really didn’t know what else to write for his.. lol swear I love him tho!
There shouldn’t be any grammar mistakes or anything. But if there is ignore it😡
A FLOWER GROWN IN MOONLIGHT.... ( PT. 1 ) ; a perfect stranger
೨౿ ⠀ ׅ ⠀ ̇ 7K ⸝⸝ . ׅ ⸺ word count.
pairings 𝜗𝜚 fae prince .ᐟ beomgyu ៹ moonskin .ᐟ reader , fae prince .ᐟ kai ៹ moonskin .ᐟ reader
ᧁ ; fantasy ˒ fae ˒ smut ˒ series
warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ mentions of abuse toxic traditional ideologies mentions of death reader has long dark hair kinda stalker-ish vibes from beomgyu (he's just fascinated ok...)
synopsis ୨୧ In the twilight hush of the world, there are strange and wondrous things — shimmering beneath the silver moon, curling their fingers through the soft soil of reality. Like flowers that bloom from the skin of a girl with a secret garden in her veins, these marvels are born from the quiet ache of longing and the fierce defiance of wonder.
The forest swallowed her in a single, silent breath, as though the ancient trees themselves had conspired to hide her from the world’s ruthless gaze. She ran, feet slick with blood and dirt, each desperate stride echoing in the cathedral hush of moonlight and shadow. The night clung to her skin, damp and trembling, as if it too feared the fire and steel that had burned her past to ash. She had no name to call herself, no echo of who she had been to anchor her in the darkness; only the wild, unbroken rhythm of her heartbeat and the magic that bloomed in quiet defiance across her skin.
She was but a girl of twelve or thirteen summers, and yet her world had already been reduced to a single thread of survival. She had seen the ruin of her family; the house that had once held laughter and warm bread now a silent grave of splintered wood and broken bodies. Their faces flickered behind her eyelids with every breath: her mother’s gentle hands turned still and cold, her father’s fierce laughter replaced by the rattle of dying breath. They had been her world, and now they were echoes, ghosts of warmth fading into the frost of memory. All because of the flowers she bore, the blossoms that stirred and unfurled with each racing beat of her heart. Flowers that were both curse and promise, beauty and burden, shimmering with a magic that the world had deemed too precious to be left unclaimed. The men who had come for her were strangers, eyes hard as iron, voices like the crack of breaking ice. She could not remember their faces, only the glint of cold steel and the smell of smoke as they tore her world apart. They had come for the gift that grew upon her skin, but she would not let them take her. She would not let them claim what was hers, what was a part of her soul. She watched as her mother and father begged for mercy, begged to be left alone. She had been an enigma to them but still loved the same as any other child was. A parents' love was unconditional no matter their faults.
So she ran, deeper into the forest’s waiting arms, her breath ragged and sharp as winter air. Each footfall was a defiance of the darkness that stalked her, each stumble a vow she would not yield.
The forest was alive around her; a symphony of ancient whispers and sighing leaves, the hush of roots burrowing deep into the earth. Branches reached for her like the gnarled hands of old spirits, tangling in her hair and tearing at her tunic, but she pressed on, driven by the wild thrum of fear and something older still, hope, perhaps, or the raw, unbreakable will to endure. The flowers on her skin pulsed with a soft glow, petals trembling as they opened to the night. Their perfume wove around her like a spell, the scent of summer rain and the promise of life in the midst of ruin. She ran until her legs gave way, until the night became a blur of tears and silver light, until the world narrowed to the raw ache of her lungs and the cold bite of the earth beneath her feet. She fell in a hollow where the moss was soft as a mother’s touch, the ground damp and cool against her fevered skin. Around her, the forest held its breath, and for a moment, she let the darkness cradle her, let the grief and terror spill from her in shivering gasps. She had no name, no home, no memory of safety left to her, but she had her breath, and the flowers that unfurled with every exhale. She had the pulse of life beneath her skin, a quiet rebellion in every bloom.
The petals glowed faintly in the darkness, delicate as moonlight, fragile as a child’s dream. They were her only inheritance, the only proof that she was still here, still breathing, still hers. She pressed her hands to the mossy earth, feeling the slow, steady heartbeat of the forest beneath her palms. In that moment, she made a promise, not to the memory of the family she had lost, nor to the kingdom that would never claim her. She promised herself, in the hush between heartbeats, that she would not be taken. That she would not be broken. That she would rise from the ruin, root herself in the quiet strength of the earth, and grow. And so she lay there, nameless and alone, while the forest wrapped its green heart around her, weaving her into its endless song of shadow and life. In the hush of ancient trees and the sigh of wind through hollow branches, she let herself rest; just for a breath, just for a heartbeat. Tomorrow, the world would hunt her still. But tonight, she was alive. And the flowers on her skin bloomed brighter than the stars above.
Beomgyu lay awake, staring at the vaulted ceiling of his bedchamber, where moonlight spilled in pale rivers through the glass. Sleep had fled from him, as it so often did, leaving him adrift in the quiet hours of the night. Outside, winter sang softly against the windows, snow falling in delicate flurries, each flake a fleeting marvel. He welcomed the cold that pressed against the ancient stones of Silvertheed, the way it crept into his bones and made him feel more alive. There was a purity to the cold, a sharpness that cut through the murk of dreams and memory.
Unable to bear the restlessness any longer, Beomgyu rose from his bed and dressed in silence, his movements swift and sure. He slipped from his chamber with the stealth of a shadow, the marble halls of the palace echoing beneath his boots. Silvertheed was a kingdom of silver light and ancient enchantments, where the fae blood that ran in his veins sang to the moon and the stars. But tonight, the stone corridors felt too close, too heavy with secrets. He needed the breath of the forest, the hush of snow-laden branches to soothe the storm within him. He stepped into the cold with a sigh of relief, the winter air biting at his skin and turning his breath to mist. The forest at the palace’s edge was a cathedral of white and shadow, branches heavy with snow and moonlight pooling in icy hollows. Beomgyu walked slowly, savoring the hush of the night, the way the world seemed to pause in reverence for the quiet majesty of winter. His thoughts drifted like snowflakes, half-formed and shimmering, until he heard it; a sound that did not belong to the forest’s ancient hush.
A song, soft and lilting, like the echo of a forgotten lullaby. It wove through the air, pulling at something deep in his chest, something that felt both fragile and unbreakable. Beomgyu stilled, his breath caught in his throat, and followed the sound through the hush of snow and the sigh of wind. There, in a small clearing where moonlight pooled like quicksilver, he saw you. A girl, no older than twenty summers, your hair dark as the midnight sky. You sat upon a fallen log, weaving flowers into your hair with a careful, almost reverent touch. The flowers glowed faintly in the moonlight, petals of lavender and rose, pale blue and the soft blush of dawn. But it was not the flowers themselves that held Beomgyu spellbound — it was the way they grew from your skin, each bloom unfurling in delicate wonder before you plucked it free and wove it into your braid.
His breath stilled, the cold forgotten as he watched you. In Silvertheed, magic was woven into every stone and stream, but he had never seen anything like this. Your humming was soft, the notes unfamiliar yet haunting in their beauty, as if you sang to the forest itself and the forest bent to listen. you seemed a part of the night, your presence both fragile and eternal, as though you had stepped from a dream spun of moonlight and memory. Beomgyu pressed his back against the rough bark of a pine, heart pounding with wonder and something else; an ache he could not name. He watched your fingers move with delicate precision, each flower a promise of something unspoken, something ancient and aching. The snow fell around you, each flake a benediction, and you moved as if the world itself was a secret you alone could read.
For a long moment, he simply watched, caught between the world he knew and the wonder of the girl before him. You were weaving flowers of your own skin, and he could not look away. The cold pressed closer, sharp as glass, but he welcomed it — it made the moment feel real, made him feel real. In that clearing of moonlight and snow, Beomgyu felt as though he had stepped beyond the edge of the world, into a story that had waited centuries to be told. He did not yet know your name, or what fate had led you here, but he knew this: he would remember this moment forever. The girl with flowers on her skin, humming to the night as if she had always belonged to it.
Beomgyu lingered in the shadows, the snow beneath his boots a muffled echo of your soft, secret song. He watched you through the hush of ancient pines, heart caught in the quiet reverence of the night. Your voice, a low hum that seemed to draw the moon closer, drifted across the clearing in a language he did not know. You sat upon a fallen log, weaving flowers — no, not flowers, but pieces of yourself, into your dark hair, petals pale as dawnlight against the night’s dark silk. Each bloom you plucked from your skin was a quiet rebellion against the cold, a testament to the magic that pulsed beneath your breath. Beomgyu watched with the rapture of a child who has seen a miracle; each unfurling petal a spell, each sigh of wind a promise. He watched you until the night was no longer night, until the stars began to fade and the cold blue hush of dawn bled into the sky. The snow fell softer as the world began to wake, and he felt the pull of duty of the life he could not leave behind, gnawing at the edges of this stolen moment. He could not be caught here, a prince hidden among the roots and shadows, watching you like a pilgrim before an altar.
With a final, lingering glance, he turned and slipped away, his cloak a whisper of darkness against the snow. You did not see him go, lost in your quiet ritual, your voice still weaving ancient secrets into the hush of the forest. The memory of your song clung to him like a heartbeat as he made his way back to Silvertheed, the cold burning against his skin, each breath a promise that he would return. And though the sun rose over the kingdom in a blaze of gold and winter fire, for Beomgyu, the world remained moonlit and trembling with the wonder of you; the girl who grew flowers from her skin and sang to the night as though it alone could understand.
The next night, sleep eluded Beomgyu once again, as if it were a fickle spirit dancing just beyond his grasp. He lay in the hush of his bedchamber, the cold seeping through the stones and into his bones. His mind was a restless sea, every thought a wave breaking against the memory of you; the girl who sang to the night and wove flowers from her skin as if she were born of the forest’s breath. All day he had carried the wonder of you like a fragile bloom, tucked close to his chest where no one could see.
He rose at last, drawn again to the forest’s quiet promise. But before he could slip out into the snow, his thoughts turned inward, to the echoes of a past that still clung to him like winter’s frost. The memories of his childhood in Silvertheed’s halls were etched in the marrow of his bones, a tapestry of bruises and hollow silences. His father; the king in name and name only, had never looked upon him with anything but disdain. Beomgyu was not his son, not truly. He was a relic of the queen’s past, a living reminder of a love that had bloomed before the king’s shadow fell upon her. The king’s cruelty had been a quiet poison, administered in cold words and cold hands, each blow an echo of a truth Beomgyu had always known: that he did not belong. Yet in the darkness of those years, there was always Kai; his brother, his solace. Kai was the balm to every wound, the soft light in the kingdom’s cold embrace. Sweet and nurturing, Kai held his brother’s hand when the world grew too dark, his presence a soft murmur of safety in the night.
Kai did not carry the king’s venom in his veins; he was all gentleness and soft-spoken wonder, a soul untainted by their father’s bitterness. He would sit with Beomgyu by the fireside, weaving stories from the smoke and the shadows, their laughter a quiet rebellion against the kingdom’s chill. It was not Kai’s fault that the king’s love was a blade turned inward, a wound that never healed. And Beomgyu, despite the ache of it all, loved his brother with a devotion that could not be broken. But tonight, as he slipped from his chamber and into the forest’s embrace, it was not his father’s cruelty that consumed his thoughts; it was you. The memory of your humming, the way your flowers bloomed in the cold, unfurling with the soft sigh of winter’s breath. The forest seemed to remember you, each tree a silent witness to the magic you carried in your skin. Beomgyu walked deeper into the hush of snow and moonlight, his breath a pale ghost in the night, his heart a restless flame.
He did not know what he would find when he reached that clearing, only that he could not stay away. In the quiet ache of the night, with the stars as his only guide, Beomgyu let himself hope that he would see you again, that you would be there, humming to the cold and weaving your secret blooms beneath the gaze of the moon. This time, the forest was a cathedral of silence, the snow beneath Beomgyu’s boots a muffled prayer to the moon. Each step was a deliberate hush, a reverent pause in the symphony of winter. He felt the cold in his bones, but he welcomed it — it was a sharp, clarifying thing, a promise that he was awake and alive in this moment. The ache of the cold was nothing compared to the pull that guided him through the dark, a quiet gravity that led him back to you.
He followed the thread of your song, a gentle melody that wound through the pines like a silver river. The night itself seemed to lean in to listen, each branch heavy with snow, each shadow holding its breath. And then he saw you, the clearing opening up before him like a secret. You were a small, wild flame against the hush of winter, your dark hair a river of shadows that caught the light of the fire you had kindled. The pot above the flames glowed faintly, steam rising in soft curls that vanished into the frozen air. You moved with a surety that spoke of ancient rituals, of secrets whispered by the forest’s oldest trees.
One by one, you plucked the flowers from your skin, each bloom trembling with a quiet reverence as it gave itself over to your hands. Beomgyu watched as the petals slipped from your fingertips into the boiling water, the surface of the potion shimmering like moonlight caught in a pool. The fragrance was delicate and strange, a mingling of snow and something sweet, something that made him think of distant summers he had never known. He could not look away. You poured the shimmering liquid into a small metal mug, your hands steady as though you had done this a thousand times before. The way you cradled the cup was almost tender, like a lover’s touch or the gentle promise of dawn. And then, without hesitation, you lifted it to your lips and drank.
The effect was immediate, a soft bloom of light that spread across your skin in a sigh of blue. It was a color he had never seen before, the deep, pulsing blue of glaciers and ancient seas, a color that seemed to hold the memory of every winter that had ever been. You laughed, a sound like bells, like the first breath of spring, and began to dance. Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you. You moved with a grace that defied the cold, your feet barely stirring the snow as you spun and twirled, arms lifted to the moon’s soft gaze. The glow of your skin lit the clearing, a quiet miracle that made the whole world seem to hold its breath. He laughed too, the sound slipping from him like a confession, soft and awed and full of wonder.
It was not a laugh of mockery — no, never that. It was the laugh of a man who had stumbled upon something so beautiful, so impossibly bright, that he could not help but be humbled by it. You were a secret the forest had been keeping from him, a miracle that had bloomed in the snow and laughter that made the cold seem soft. You did not see him. Or if you did, you gave no sign, lost in the music only you could hear. The firelight painted your face in shades of gold and shadow, the blue glow of your skin a quiet defiance of winter’s hush. Beomgyu watched as you lifted your arms to the sky, fingers splayed wide, as if you were trying to hold the stars in your palms.
For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to step from the shadows and into the circle of your dance. To feel the glow of your skin beneath his fingers, to share in the secret you carried like a promise. But he stayed hidden, content to watch and let the memory of your laughter etch itself into the deepest parts of him. The night stretched on, a quiet river of stars and snow. Beomgyu leaned against the rough bark of a pine, his breath a pale mist in the cold, and let himself be consumed by the wonder of you. And in the quiet spaces of his mind, memories began to rise, memories of another fire, another cold night, long before he had known your name.
He remembered the hush of the royal halls, the stone walls that had never felt like home. He remembered his father’s voice, sharp and cold as the winter wind, each word a blade that cut deeper than any frost. He had always known he was not the king’s son. It was a truth that lived in the hush of the servants’ footsteps, in the way his father’s gaze slid past him as though he were nothing but a shadow. The way his hand would rise to strike Beomgyu’s cheek when he would say the wrong thing. Beomgyu was a reminder of another man’s love, a love the queen had known before she had been bound to the king’s cold hand. But there had always been Kai.
Kai, with his gentle smile and quiet strength. Kai, who had never let the chill of the kingdom seep into his soul. When the nights were at their coldest, it was Kai who would slip into Beomgyu’s room, his hands warm and steady, his voice a soft murmur of comfort. “It is not your fault,” Kai would whisper, each word a promise, a shield against the darkness. “You are loved, brother. You are loved.” And in those moments, Beomgyu could almost believe it.
But tonight, as he watched you dance in the snow, the memory of his brother’s voice felt like a distant echo. You were a new kind of warmth, a light that had nothing to do with the cold halls of Silvertheed or the shadows that had always haunted him. You were laughter and magic, a song that belonged to the moon and the snow and the quiet ache of his own heart. He did not understand you — not even a little. But he did not need to. The forest seemed to hold its breath around you, each tree a silent witness to the miracle you wove with every step. And Beomgyu, hidden among the shadows, felt something inside him begin to thaw.
For so long, he had carried the weight of his father’s hatred, the cold truth of his own blood like a stone in his chest. But here, in the hush of snow and moonlight, he felt that weight begin to lift, if only for a moment. He did not know what you were, or what magic you had wrapped around yourself like a second skin. But he knew this: you were something bright in a world that had always felt too dark.
The night grew old around him, the stars a pale river above the trees. Beomgyu watched until the last embers of your fire died down, until the glow of your skin faded into the hush of dawn. You sat then, quiet and still, your head bowed as though in prayer. The blue glow had ebbed from your skin, leaving only the pale curve of your shoulders and the soft spill of your hair. For a moment, he wondered what you were thinking. If you knew he was there, a shadow among the shadows, watching with a reverence he could not name. Then, before the first light of day could slip through the trees, he turned and fled.
The snow swallowed the sound of his footsteps, and the forest closed around him like a secret. The cold bit at his skin. It was a promise that he was still here, still alive, and that this moment had been real. As he walked back to the castle, the memory of your laughter clung to him like a breath of summer, a warmth he carried into the cold stone halls. And though he did not know what magic burned in your blood, he knew one thing for certain: he would return. He would return to the forest, to the hush of snow and the glow of your skin. He would return to the place where the world seemed to breathe in color and light, and where he, too, could be something more than the king’s unwanted son. He would return, again and again, until he could name the magic that had bloomed in his heart the first time he heard you sing.
The next night, the cold was even sharper, the moon a pale blade that cut through the darkness and laid the forest bare. Beomgyu moved through the snow with a quiet purpose, each step a prayer to the mystery that had taken root in his heart. The memory of your laughter was a ghost at his shoulder, a warmth that had no place in the winter’s chill. He did not know what it was that drew him to you; whether it was the way your magic bloomed beneath your skin or the simple wonder of seeing something so bright and wild in a world that had always felt too sharp. But he knew this: he had to see you again.
So he went back, moving through the dark like a promise, the hush of snow beneath his boots a secret shared only with the night. The forest opened around him, the pines heavy with frost, each branch a quiet sentinel that watched his passing with a patience that had no end. He did not know that he was not alone. In the hush of his thoughts, in the quiet ache of wonder that pulled him forward, he did not hear the faint rustle of footsteps behind him. He did not see the flicker of movement, the shadow that slipped between the trees like a wraith.
Kai was there, his brother’s steps as silent as snowfall, his gaze a quiet flame that burned with questions he did not yet have the words to ask. He had watched Beomgyu all day, had seen the way his brother’s thoughts had drifted far from the stone walls of the castle and the weight of the king’s cold gaze. Kai had seen the wonder in Beomgyu’s eyes, the soft light that had never belonged to the kingdom of Silvertheed. And so he followed, silent and unseen, the bond of blood and brotherhood a thread that pulled him through the night.
Beomgyu moved as though the forest itself was a dream, each breath a hush of wonder that quickened in his chest. He thought only of you, of the way the light had danced across your skin and the laughter that had made even the snow seem warm. He reached the clearing just as the first flicker of firelight began to bloom in the dark. You were there, as he had known you would be, your hair a dark river that spilled over your shoulders, your hands gentle as you plucked the flowers from your skin. The ritual was the same; petals and fire and the soft hush of your song, but tonight, there was something different in the way you moved.
Your eyes were distant, your fingers trembling just slightly as you fed the fire with the blooms that grew like a promise beneath your skin. The potion simmered in the small metal pot, the steam rising in slow, lazy curls that vanished into the cold. Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat. He had thought he was prepared for this, for the quiet wonder of your magic and the wild grace of your dance. But tonight, there was something else, a shadow in your gaze, a weight in the way you held the cup to your lips.
You drank, as you had before, the glow of blue light blooming across your skin in a sigh of wonder. But tonight, your laughter was softer, almost sad, the dance you wove around the fire a quiet defiance of some sorrow he could not name. He watched, his heart a silent drum in his chest, each beat a question he could not ask. And in the hush of snow and moonlight, he did not see the shadow that watched with him, Kai’s breath a soft mist in the cold, his eyes dark with worry.
Kai saw the way Beomgyu’s gaze followed you, saw the wonder and the ache that lived in the spaces between each breath. He saw the way his brother’s hands clenched at his sides, as though he was fighting the urge to step forward, to break the hush of the forest and let the world know he was there. He understood, though Beomgyu had not said a word. He understood the pull of magic and mystery, the quiet ache of wanting something so bright it hurt to even look at it. And he felt the first flicker of something else — something that lived in the quiet spaces of his own heart, something that made him wonder what it would be like to feel the warmth of your laughter, the soft glow of your magic against his own skin.
But he said nothing. He stayed hidden, a shadow among the pines, his breath a silent promise that he would watch and wait, even if he did not yet understand what he was waiting for. In the clearing, you danced with the fire, your blue-lit skin a miracle that made the night itself seem to hold its breath. And Beomgyu watched, his heart a quiet bloom of wonder and fear, each beat a prayer that this moment would never end.
The forest was a cathedral of silence, the snow beneath their feet a quiet hymn to the cold. And in that hush, two brothers stood in the shadows, bound by blood and the quiet ache of a magic they could not yet name. And you, in the center of it all, were a song that had no words, a promise that the world was still full of wonder, even in the hush of winter’s breath.
Beomgyu once again found himself hidden behind a great pine, his breath a silver mist in the winter night, his heart thrumming a hymn of wonder and ache. You sat across from him, your small frame hunched over a log, the crackling fire’s glow painting your skin with flickers of gold and shadow. Your hut loomed behind you, a shape of secrets and solitude that rose like a phantom in the snow’s hush. Your shoulders trembled with quiet sobs, the sound of your tears lost to the hiss and crackle of the flames. Beomgyu watched, each tear that slid down your cheek a glimmer of sorrow that caught the moonlight like dew. He did not know why it hurt him so, to see you cry. You were a stranger, your name a mystery, your story written in a language of petals and magic he could not yet read. And yet, something in him ached to bridge the distance between you, to cradle your sorrow in his hands as though it were a fragile bloom that needed only the sun to open.
He did not know what it was that drew him to you; whether it was the quiet glow of your skin, the flowers that bloomed like whispers of beauty beneath your touch, or simply the hush of your song that still lingered in his thoughts like a memory of something long lost. All he knew was that he wanted to be close to you, to offer the warmth of his presence against the cold hush of your tears. He stepped forward, just a breath, just enough to taste the promise of closeness. But before his foot could find purchase in the snow, a sharp crack split the air, a branch breaking under weight not his own. Beomgyu froze, his breath catching in his throat like a secret. In the same heartbeat, your head lifted, your eyes wide and searching in the darkness.
He turned, and his breath left him in a rush of frost. Kai stood there, his brother’s face pale in the moonlight, his dark eyes wide with surprise and apology. Beomgyu’s heart stumbled at the sight—he had been so sure he was alone, so lost in the pull of your sorrow that he had not noticed the presence of the one who had always been his shadow, his silent witness. You stood, your body taut as a bowstring, the tears still fresh on your cheeks but your gaze sharp and wary. The fire crackled between you all, the hiss and pop of burning wood a chorus to the sudden hush that had fallen over the clearing.
For a moment, none of you moved; three hearts caught in the hush of winter, three souls bound by secrets and the quiet ache of what had just been revealed. Beomgyu’s mouth opened, words a tangle in his throat that he could not find the courage to speak. His brother’s eyes met his, dark with a thousand questions that neither of them knew how to ask. And then your voice, soft as the hush of snow falling in the dark. “Who are you?” you said, your words trembling like the branches that shivered beneath the weight of frost.
Beomgyu stepped forward, his hands half-raised in a silent plea. “I—my name is Beomgyu,” he said, the words a sigh of truth in the cold night. “And this is my brother, Kai.” His voice faltered, the weight of your gaze a quiet thunder in his chest. “We…we didn’t mean to startle you.” Kai moved beside him, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm of uncertainty. “Forgive us,” he said, his voice a low warmth that contrasted the chill of the night. “We didn’t mean to intrude. We…we were only curious.”
The hush that followed was heavy with possibility, each breath a question that waited to be answered. You looked between them, your eyes dark with the shadows of things you did not yet trust to share. And Beomgyu, his heart a quiet storm, found himself caught between the wonder of your magic and the silent echo of his brother’s presence at his side.
The quiet of the forest seemed to cradle you all in a hush, a sanctuary of frost and shadows, the fire’s glow a heartbeat between you. Beomgyu and Kai stood close together, two figures cut from moonlight and winter breath, their princely faces made softer by the hush of the night and the wonder of your presence. You stood across from them, your hair a dark halo of wildness, stray flower petals tangled in its knots, your skin glistening with the tears you had not yet wiped away. The question in Beomgyu’s eyes was a soft ache, a quiet pull he could not name, but it was Kai who gave it voice.
“What are you?” Kai asked, his tone gentle, like a child asking the forest to tell its secrets. His eyes, so like Beomgyu’s but calmer, steadier, shone with a wonder that made your heart tremble. Your shoulders hunched slightly, as if the question itself weighed upon you. “I don’t know,” you said softly, the words tasting of truth and sadness. “All I know is that I’ve always been…like this.” You raised a hand, and from your palm bloomed a small flower; blue as the night sky, fragile as a sigh. “At night, they come. From my skin. They have…power.” Your voice faltered, and your eyes turned down to the flickering fire. “Sometimes they change how I feel. Sometimes…how others feel.”
Beomgyu watched, his breath caught in the hush of your confession. The way you spoke; soft and careful, as if every word was a petal you had to coax to bloom. He wanted to reach out, to take your hand and tell you that it was alright, that your strangeness was a wonder and not a curse. But he stayed still, his heart a quiet storm in his chest. “Please,” you whispered, your gaze darting between them, your voice suddenly urgent. “Don’t tell anyone. They’ll come for me. They always do. They’ll say I’m cursed, or that I’m a witch. I don’t want… I don’t want to be hunted again.” Your words cracked like ice underfoot, and the memory of your tears glistened in the glow of the fire.
Kai stepped closer, his hand lifting as if to touch your shoulder, but he hesitated. “We won’t tell anyone,” he said, his voice the gentle hush of a promise. “We swear it.” Beomgyu nodded, his throat tight with the weight of your fear. “You’re safe with us,” he said, and he meant it. Even if he didn’t yet understand why, even if he didn’t know what the pull in his heart meant, he knew he would not let harm come to you.
For a moment, the three of you stood in a hush of snow and breath, the fire’s crackle the only sound in the world. Beomgyu’s gaze drifted to your clothes; threadbare and dirt-smudged, a cloak of tattered wool that did little to shield you from the cold. Your skin, though glowing softly in the firelight, was streaked with the dust of the forest, your nails rimmed with soil as if you had clawed your way from the earth itself. He wondered, suddenly, how long you had lived like this, alone in the woods, your hut no more than a shadowy refuge, your days marked by the hush of fear and the gentle bloom of your strange magic. His heart twisted, the ache of it a quiet song he could not ignore.
It was Kai who spoke the words that would change everything, his voice soft but sure. “Would you like to come with us?” he asked, the question simple and gentle, like a hand offered in the dark. Beomgyu’s eyes widened, surprise flickering like a flame in his chest. He had not expected it, this sudden kindness from his brother. But then again, Kai had always been the gentler one, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve like a badge of honor. Beomgyu, with all his jagged edges and quiet ache, had never known how to offer such kindness so easily.
You looked up at Kai, your eyes wide and uncertain, the firelight turning them to pools of shadow and wonder. “I… I couldn’t,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t belong in a place like that. And I have nothing to give you in return. No gold, no… no power that could be of use to you.” Kai’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “We don’t need anything from you,” he said. “We’re princes. We have enough gold to last a hundred lifetimes. We only ask because… no one should have to live alone in the cold. You deserve warmth, and a place to belong.”
Your breath caught, a soft hitch of disbelief. Beomgyu watched the wonder and confusion that flickered across your face, the way you bit your lip as if you were afraid to hope. He understood that feeling all too well; the ache of wanting something so badly that you were afraid to reach for it. He found himself stepping closer, his voice low but sure. “My brother means it,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. “If you come with us… we will keep you safe. We won’t ask you for anything you can’t give.”
You looked between them, your gaze lingering on Beomgyu’s face for a breath longer than it lingered on Kai’s. In that moment, he felt something shift in the hush of the night, an invisible thread binding the three of you together, woven from the hush of snow and the crackle of fire and the quiet wonder of a girl who could grow flowers from her skin. For a moment, you looked as though you might refuse. Your shoulders tensed, your eyes shuttered like the closing of a door. But then your breath left you in a soft sigh, and you nodded, just once, the motion small and delicate as the unfurling of a petal.
“Alright,” you said, your voice a whisper. “I will come with you.” Relief flickered across Kai’s face, a gentle warmth that softened the angles of his jaw. Beomgyu felt it too, a quiet loosening of the ache in his chest, though he did not know why. He only knew that the sight of your soft, uncertain smile in the glow of the fire felt like the first bloom of spring after a winter that had seemed endless.
Kai stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Come,” he said, his voice a soft beacon in the hush of the night. “We’ll bring you home.” You hesitated only a moment before you took his hand, your fingers cold and small in his. Beomgyu watched as Kai’s thumb brushed gently across your knuckles, a quiet promise in the softness of his touch. And then the three of you turned away from the clearing, the fire’s glow fading behind you as you stepped into the hush of the forest.
The snow fell in slow, lazy drifts, the moon’s light painting the world in a hush of silver and shadow. Beomgyu fell in step beside you, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek, the small smile that lingered there like a fragile bloom. He did not speak, but in the quiet of the night, he let his presence be its own kind of promise, silent, but sure. Beside him, Kai’s hand still held yours, his warmth a gentle anchor in the cold hush of the world. And though Beomgyu did not yet know what lay ahead, what this night had set in motion, what magic and ache and wonder would bloom from the meeting of three hearts in the winter’s dark, he knew that something had shifted. Something had begun.
In the distance, the castle of Silvertheed rose like a dream against the horizon, its spires dark and glistening with frost. Beomgyu felt a quiet thrill in his chest as they approached it — an ache of wonder and uncertainty, a hush of possibility that felt as bright and fragile as the flowers that bloomed on your skin. And in the hush of that winter night, as you walked between the two brothers, your breath a soft fog in the cold air, the first threads of a story began to weave themselves into the world; threads of magic and mystery, of sorrow and wonder, of love that would not be denied.
Word Count: 1K
Summary: “Hey,” you greeted with a bright smile. “What’s up?”
Without answering, he lifted a small makeup bag. Your makeup bag. You blinked in confusion.
Pairing: Huening Kai X Reader
The first time it happened, you didn’t think much of it. It was just a casual moment between you and a classmate—a lazy afternoon after lecture, sprawled out on the floor of your dorm room. You were playing music off your phone while flipping through random makeup products you hadn’t used in months.
“I’m bored,” your classmate announced, reaching for your makeup bag. “Let me practice on you.”
You shrugged with a small laugh. “Sure. Why not?”
You sat cross-legged on the rug, leaning back slightly as they blended a warm bronzer along your cheekbones. The two of you were chatting about nothing in particular—complaining about homework, gossiping about your professors, making plans for the weekend. You barely even noticed how close they were leaning, how their fingers occasionally brushed your skin as they worked.
But someone else did.
HueningKai hadn’t planned to stop by that day, but he found himself walking toward your dorm anyway. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, hair slightly tousled from running his fingers through it. It wasn’t unusual for him to pop in unannounced—you’d always told him he didn’t need an invitation. But today, when he reached your door and saw it slightly ajar, he hesitated.
His brows drew together as he took in the scene. You, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, smiling at the classmate hovering too close. Their fingers delicately traced along your jaw as they applied a soft highlight to the high points of your face. You didn’t seem to mind the proximity. You were laughing, your eyes crinkling in that way he adored.
But for once, that smile wasn’t directed at him.
Something heavy settled in HueningKai’s chest. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t make his presence known. He simply turned and walked away, jaw tight and heart uncomfortably heavy.
The next day, you were startled when you opened your door to find him already there, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes were calm, but there was something unsettlingly unreadable about them—a touch too blank, too neutral.
“Hey,” you greeted with a bright smile. “What’s up?”
Without answering, he lifted a small makeup bag. Your makeup bag. You blinked in confusion.
He stepped into your dorm and nudged the door shut behind him with a quiet click. The motion was slow, deliberate. His gaze never left yours.
“Sit,” he murmured softly, voice low and even.
You gave him a playful look but obeyed, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “Since when did you become a makeup artist?” you teased.
He didn’t answer. He knelt in front of you, carefully unzipping the bag and laying out the products. His movements were unhurried—deliberate but almost detached. His eyes were low-lidded, expression calm, but his fingers were firm when he tipped your chin upward with the pad of his thumb.
His touch lingered just a beat too long.
“You let someone else do your makeup yesterday,” he murmured, almost offhandedly, as if he were mentioning the weather.
You blinked at him, confused by the statement. “Yeah. It was just for fun.” You shrugged lightly, brushing it off with a small smile. “Why? You jealous?” you teased.
For the briefest moment, his eyes flickered. But the faint smirk that tugged at his lips was casual, almost lazy—so subtle you could’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so closely.
“Mm. No,” he drawled lightly, voice disinterested, fingers lazily brushing over the curve of your jaw. “Just figured I could do a better job.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat when he dipped his brush into the foundation and began to apply it.
His motions were slow, meticulous. You felt every pass of the bristles, every light graze of his fingertips as he blended along your cheekbone. His thumb brushed idly along your jaw—an absent-minded caress rather than a necessary touch.
Your breath stuttered slightly. He was so close. Close enough that you could see the dark flecks in his irises and feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.
He moved on to your eyes, dragging the shadow along your lids with practiced ease. His thumb smudged the corner softly, and the pad of his fingertip lingered against your cheek longer than necessary. You could feel his knuckle faintly graze your skin as he leaned in, eyes lazily half-lidded as he examined his work.
Your throat tightened when he reached for the lip tint. His eyes flicked briefly to yours—watching, wordless—but there was something distinctly heavy in the glance. Something that made your stomach flip.
He dragged the wand along your lower lip, slow and deliberate. You caught your breath when he repeated the motion, running the applicator over your lips a second time. Slower this time. Almost too slow.
Your lips parted slightly without meaning to. His eyes dropped, lingering on the shape of your mouth. And then—just as slowly—he pressed his thumb against your lower lip and dragged it downward, smudging the pigment with an infuriating gentleness.
You exhaled sharply. “You’re messing it up,” you murmured.
His eyes met yours, unwavering. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Mm. Doesn’t matter,” he replied softly, almost dismissively, his voice low and velvety.
And then he kissed you.
The contact was unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His lips moved over yours with infuriating softness—barely a brush at first, nothing more than a teasing graze. But when you sighed faintly against his mouth, he pressed in further. His hand slipped beneath your jaw, fingertips warm against your skin as he coaxed you closer.
You felt him inhale slightly against your lips—a sound almost too soft to catch—like he was drinking you in, slowly and deliberately.
When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and slightly blurred—the once perfect application now softened at the edges. His own lips were stained faintly with the same color, a barely-there smudge left behind.
He lingered there for a moment, his breath warm against your cheek. His eyes were calm, impassive. He didn’t say a word.
But just before he pulled away, his thumb swiped slowly—almost lazily—along your bottom lip, smearing the color just a touch further.
And when he finally sat back, he wore the same unbothered expression as always—calm, indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
But his eyes—just a little darker than usual—lingered on your lips for a second too long.
genre fluff , friends to lovers , popstar au , hueningkai x fem!reader cw paparazzi here to ruin everything (be a helpful plot device) once again , not proofread wc 1365 request @hyperdramas note ik this idea was originally supposed to be indie band kai but the popstar fame idea was stronger than me skdjksd kai is so hot i love him, and hope you like it lyr !! tagging @soobchwe <3 net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet
Kai couldn’t write a single song that wasn’t about you. Although he always denied the fact, he knew that you were his inspiration. He poured his feelings out into pages and pages of lyrics, strumming patterns on his guitar in his studio for hours on end. The result was another smash hit, dominating the charts worldwide for weeks. Kai was known as a sensation, the best of his generation. No one knew who was the real reason for his success, though. Not even you.
You were back in Kai’s studio, legs sprawled over the back of his couch, staring at the ceiling as he played demos from his speakers. The beat was nice, and Kai’s vocals, although rough, still sounded heavenly. On rare occasions, you hated being the best friend to the world’s biggest artist. Wishing Kai was still a nobody like he was a few years ago, so you both could spend time together in the normal way. But most of the time, you loved every second of his popstar life.
From hearing songs before their release, to free tickets wherever he was touring, you got benefits no one else did just from being Kai’s best friend. But you would never take it for granted. He would always be your friend before an international star. 99% of the time, you just saw him as your Kai, the same boy you had practically grown up with attached by the hips.
“So, what do you think?” Kai asked, pausing the song after the second verse.
“It’s good. But you already knew that,” you said, smiling. “How do you manage to do it every time? The lyrics are always straight from the heart.”
Kai smiled. “I’ve just got good inspiration, I guess.”
“And who would that be? Who are you singing your heart out for?” You crossed your arms, curious to hear his answer. If there was ever a chance to tease Kai about something, you would take it. Whether it was the fact that he had no friends or still slept with his childhood plushies, you never let him hear the end of it. A chance to tease him about a possible crush was an opportunity you wouldn’t pass up.
“No one in particular,” Kai shrugged, eyes darting up to the ceiling. You could tell he was lying immediately, and a grin spread on your face.
“Come on, I know there must be someone! Every great artist has to have their muse.”
“Just someone I know,” he said simply, huffing at your stubborn resolve to get the answer out of him. He was really bad at lying, especially to you. But his stomach twisted at the thought of you finding out you were the inspiration for… every single song he ever wrote. If you found out, he’d either have a full album of relationship songs within the year, or a heartbreak album so depressing the entire world would be brought to tears. He wasn’t too keen on the latter.
“You know like… 3 people total. Me, Taehyun, and Lily. Oh my god— is it Lily!? Seriously?” you exclaimed, sitting up like a spring. Kai groaned.
“It’s not Lily. Stop wondering and help me think of a bass line,” he grabbed the bass from its stand and sat down next to you, thumbing at the strings to produce deep low notes from the instrument.
You sighed, turning your attention to the notes he played. Your mind still lingered back to who his songs were about. You didn’t think Lily was a bad guess— she had even featured on one of his biggest hits. She had an insane voice that complemented Kai’s beautifully. It could be her.
But you also knew Kai was nearly incapable of lying to you. If he said it wasn’t her, then it probably wasn’t. That left the possibility of a mystery woman that he had met and you didn’t know about. Unlikely. Or… you. Very likely.
“Come on, let’s go out for dinner! It’s Valentine’s day. Neither of us have a date, so let’s just be each other’s!” Kai pleaded, pulling on your arm. He had shown up to your apartment with a small bouquet of roses, claiming he got it for you for a “friend date”. You had originally planned to stay in bed all night, watching rom-coms that would make you feel hopelessly single, but you couldn’t refuse a dinner offer from Kai. You put on the fanciest dress you could find and met Kai by the door twenty minutes later, taking the flowers from his hand.
“You look pretty. Let’s go,” he said, smiling widely. He was out the door before you had a chance to process why your cheeks flushed from his comment.
The restaurant he took you to was fancy, unsurprisingly. You didn’t even want to know how much the food cost. You could easily say it was the best food you had ever tasted, and it wasn’t like your best friend was struggling in the financial department. Valentines, which you always used to dread as it was spent single and depressed, was turning out to be quite pleasant instead thanks to Kai. Until you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera click from behind you.
“Kai,” you whispered, grabbing his attention. “Is someone taking pictures of us?”
He looked around, alarmed, eyes scanning the other tables like a hawk. Once he located the camera, and the paparazzi it belonged to, his face twisted in irritation. He was used to his outings getting ruined by flashing cameras and crowds of people asking for autographs, but he hated that you had been accidentally dragged into it. He could already imagine the headlines tomorrow if those photos reached the public. He was at a romantic restaurant, dressed up, on Valentine’s day, with a date.
“Go to the bathrooms. I’ll meet you there. Try to keep your face covered, okay?” he instructed, tone softening although he still looked pissed. You nodded and stood up, weaving your way through the tables of people until you found the bathrooms.
The wait for Kai to join you felt like hours, and you were hyper alert for any sign of cameras or flashes. Even running into other people walking past the bathrooms had you tense. You knew the power paparazzi had, especially if their pictures reached tabloids. Huening Kai was the hottest star in the industry, and millions of people were desperate to get a glimpse into his personal life. A leak of this size could cause headaches for weeks. You hoped he could handle the situation well enough.
When Kai finally arrived, he ushered you into one of the unisex bathrooms and closed the door, locking it for privacy.
“So, bad news. The entire world may think that you’re my girlfriend tomorrow,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and pulling on the strands in frustration.
“What?”
“There were multiple people and they all got pictures. I think they already got leaked by now. Even if I sue them and get the pictures taken down, millions will have already seen them. I’m so so sorry,” Kai told you.
Your face fell, knowing there was nothing you could do to prevent it. You really should have stayed home and watched those romcoms instead of going to dinner.
“I can say that you’re just my friend. I don’t know how believable it will seem, though. We both dressed up for this, and it’s freaking Valentine’s day.”
You sighed.
“It’s okay. What if… I just pretended to be your girlfriend? Then you won’t have to try to do damage control,” you offered, mulling over the options and outcomes.
“What if you didn’t have to pretend?” Kai asked, taking a brave step for once.
“What do you mean? We’re not dating.”
“We could be.”
“Are you seriously asking me out in the bathroom of a restaurant?” you teased, making Kai smile.
“And if I am?” You knew that look in his eyes, a soft glimmer. He really was in love with you.
“Then, I guess I’d say yes,” you smiled. He was lucky you were just as in love with him.
“Tabloids are gonna love this story.”
txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,,
synopsis — your boyfriend, kai, would rather give you dinner and a show. as long as the show was the two of you. and what better performance than dancing to your favorite song?
g! — gn! reader, sickeningly sweet fluff
wc! — 1.0 k
it’s an average sunday at the apartment you share with your boyfriend, kai. the soft humming on the radio slows and your favorite song comes on. he looks at you and abandons the dinner you were sharing, fork clattering softly against the plate as he rises from his chair. the air smells faintly of garlic and something sweet, the remnants of the meal you both made together, but his attention has already drifted somewhere else. his eyes, dark and thoughtful, find yours across the small kitchen. he doesn’t say anything at first; he just smiles, slow and secretive, like he’s thinking about something only the two of you could understand.
then he extends his hand. palm up, fingers slightly curled, waiting. you tilt your head, half-laughing, half-suspicious. “what are you doing?”
“come here,” he says, voice warm with that familiar teasing that always unravels you. and before you can answer, kai takes your hand. his grip is firm but careful, as though he’s holding something precious. he pulls you up, steadying you with a soft tug, and for a moment, you just stand there together, close enough that the soft brush of his thumb against your knuckles sends a shiver up your arm.
the kitchen light spills over everything in sight. low and honeyed. it casts long, soft shadows on the walls, glows along the curve of his jaw, and turns the strands of his hair into gold. the glow dances across his cheekbones, tracing every slope and angle of his face until he looks almost unreal. you can’t believe how lucky you are to have kai, your own personal angel.
the song hums in the background, its rhythm steady and slow. kai begins to move first, barely a sway at all, more a suggestion than a command, and you follow without thought. your bare feet slide against the cool tile, the faint squeak of movement swallowed up by the music.
“i thought you were hungry,” you whisper.
“we can eat later,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple as he speaks. “this is more important.”
he spins you then, slowly, so your shirt lifts slightly with the motion and your hair catches the light. his hand never leaves yours; it only tightens for a heartbeat before loosening again, careful, reverent. when you turn back to face him, he’s already smiling, like he can’t quite believe you’re real.
the way he looks at you now makes your chest feel too small for your drumming heart. his eyes, warm and dark and steady, drink in every detail of you. the light gilds the edge of his lashes and reflects faintly in his pupils. you could swear you see the reflection of your own face there, tiny and soft, framed by the gentle glow of the room.
kai’s hand trails from your waist up to your shoulder, fingers tracing idle shapes along the fabric of your sleeve. his other hand still holds yours. it’s his promise, his way of saying don’t drift too far from me.
you sway together. your bodies move in small circles, finding a rhythm only the two of you know. the song shifts into its chorus and kai breathes out a small laugh, eyes still fixed on you.
“what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “i just… can’t stop looking at you.”
the words should sound too much, too forward, but they don’t. they settle between you like something inevitable. his fingers brush your jaw lightly before falling back to your hand. he doesn’t let go. not even when the song softens, not even when you shift your weight and pull away to tease him. he just follows, steps in closer, his thumb pressing into the center of your palm.
“kai,” you breathe, “you’re holding my hand like it’s going to disappear.”
he smiles at that. one of those lopsided, almost-shy smiles that make your heart trip over itself. “maybe it will,” he says quietly. “you never know.”
his tone is light, like devotion dressed up as playfulness. he draws you closer until your foreheads touch, and for a few long seconds, you just stand there in the golden light, breathing the same sweet but garlicky air.
the song winds down, but he doesn’t stop. he rocks you gently, side to side, still humming along under his breath even though the music has already begun to fade. his thumb keeps moving over your hand, tracing the small lines of your palm as if memorizing them. you look up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. it’s almost too much. the way his gaze holds you in place, soft but unrelenting, full of something deep and wordless.
you feel your heart skip once, twice. “you’re staring,” you whisper.
“i know.” his smile grows just enough to make you laugh quietly. “i don’t really want to stop.”
the kitchen hums with silence now. the soft buzz of the refrigerator, the faint ticking of the stove cooling down, the light settling on every smooth surface. it hits his face just right, pooling over his skin like a second kind of warmth. gold along his cheekbones, soft amber beneath his eyes. he looks like he’s been painted by the light itself.
and still, his hand doesn’t leave yours.
you shift your fingers against his, testing him, and he only tightens his hold slightly, a silent no. his palm fits around yours perfectly, and you realize that maybe he really wouldn’t let go because in this moment, there’s nowhere else his hand belongs.
he leans in again, so close you can see every fleck of light caught in his irises.
“don’t let go yet,” he says softly, his breath brushing the edge of your mouth.
“i wasn’t planning to,” you reply, matching his whisper.
the song ends. you’re still swaying, still lost in each other’s warmth. kai’s thumb rubs circles into your skin as if he’s trying to keep time with a melody that only exists between the two of you.
eventually, the light shifts, deepening into that soft amber dusk that turns everything tender. you rest your head against his chest, and he exhales like he’s been holding that breath for a long time. his arms come around you fully now, his hand still clasped tightly with yours between your hearts. he presses his lips against your hair and murmurs, “we should dance like this every night.”
you smile into his shirt, your voice small and honest. “only if you never stop looking at me like that.”
kai laughs quietly, tightening his grip just once more before answering. “deal.”
