⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ KISS AND MAKE UP ! 🧸ྀི — dongmin’s way to comfort you after a fight is pretty simple (and works like a charm) ( word count 601)
[ extras ] kissing, crying, fluff/comfort
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! i have another banger of an idea w taesannie otw plspls jingle jingle pay attention stay tuned okay!?also someone said he’s totally the type to grab ur neck and guide u into a kiss and guess what. i dig that.
@k-records (っ- ‸ - ς)⠀
dongmin couldn't handle it.
neither could you.
he was sitting in the bedroom, trying to focus on reels playing in his phone. trying to distract himself from thoughts gnawing on his mind like a dog starved.
you, on the other hand, were in the kitchen. sitting on the counter top, with gaze stuck at the boiling water.
the argument you had was silly, really. you were annoyed already, he was tired. he made a mess after you had just cleaned, you raised your voice when you shouldn't have.
and now guilt was consuming you both, resulting in you giving him the silent treatment. which you knew was bad but you couldn't bring yourself not to. you didn't even know what to say; was sorry enough?
the water boiled.
you put pasta in it and set a timer, observing the lively bubbles calming down.
"hey."
your eyes didn't budge. you felt ashamed to even look at dongmin.
he sighed softly, walking up to you.
you let him.
taking out his hands from his pockets, he placed them on your thighs. there was silence, only the sound of water bubbling between you two. he opened your thighs and stood between your legs, scanning your face.
"can we talk?" he asked. the softness of his voice made your gut dip with guilt even deeper. you shouldn't have yelled at him. he was so kind after you did and still–
you felt his hand making its way to the back of your neck, guiding your head towards him. his forehead rested against yours, hair gently brushing your skin. you closed your eyes, feeling a lump creating in your throat already.
"are you still mad at me?" dongmin questioned, voice calm as gentle breeze on a sunday morning.
"no" you croaked out.
"good" he huffed and before you knew it, his hands guided you by the neck to meet his lips.
once again, you allowed him.
the kiss was slow, pouring wordless apology from both of you. your hands found themselves seeking for him desperately, which just resulted in clutching his black top. he didn't rush but his hands on your neck guided you to deepen the kiss, angling your head in a way that allowed your lips to align comfortably.
only when he felt your breathing getting rigged and salty droplets on his tongue, he pulled away. not too far, he didn't want to.
his features softened and his hands slid from the nape of your neck to cup your tear stained cheeks.
"i-i'm sorry" you choked out, lower lip quivering. "i shouldn't have yelled. i just had a bad day…"
he stroked your skin in a reassuring motion, swallowing hard.
"and then i just… was too guilty to say anything. i'm sorry, dongmin" you sobbed. "i feel awful"
"it's my fault too. i'm sorry." he replied gently, wiping the falling pearly tears with his thumb.
"let's not fight over stupid stuff again" you sniffed and grabbed his wrists tenderly, looking up at him teary-eyed.
"and let's not do silent treatment, hm? i hated every second of that" he teased, canines poking out in a cat-alike smirk.
you just huffed, turning your head away.
"hey, don't sulk or i'll have to kiss it away again"
you just let go of his wrists and pulled him closer by his shirt.
"don't mind if you do" you whispered shyly and dongmin's hands sneaked once again to the back of your head, this time leading the kiss more passionately. your teeth clanked and you giggled through the kiss, tears already drying out in the corners of your eyes.
genre: established relationship, soft angst, comfort, fluff
wc: 2.7k
warnings: brief social embarrassment, overthinking, insecurity, fear of being "too much" (no one is ever too much!!!), lovesick Taesan, chronic yapper
a/n: to all my yappers out there, you are loved and appreciated!! @yoonlxlla thank you for proofreading, you're my star!!
You were a yapper.
A chronic yapper, according to your friends.
Not in an annoying way—at least that’s what everyone always insisted. You just loved talking. About stupid little things, about serious things, about things nobody else noticed. You could turn a five-minute story into forty-five if someone let you. Your thoughts moved too fast for your mouth to keep up, and sometimes words spilled out before you even realized you were speaking.
But people usually smiled through it.
They laughed when you got dramatic over tiny inconveniences. They listened when you rambled about a movie theory nobody asked for. They let you explain random facts you’d learned at two in the morning from some questionable internet rabbit hole.
And honestly?
You liked that about yourself.
You liked being passionate. You liked caring loudly.
So maybe that was why it hurt more than it should’ve when the newest addition to the friend group sighed softly halfway through your story and said,
“Can you maybe let other people talk too?”
The words weren’t even harsh.
Her tone was polite. Calm. Casual.
But it still felt like someone had poured cold water directly over your head.
The entire table went quiet for a split second.
Not long enough for anyone to acknowledge it.
Just long enough for everyone to hear it.
Then conversation resumed almost immediately, awkwardly stumbling forward as if nothing had happened.
You felt your smile strain at the corners.
“Oh,” you laughed quietly. “Yeah. Sorry.”
And just like that, you shut up.
You stopped talking mid-thought. Stopped adding onto conversations. Stopped interrupting yourself with excited little side tangents. Even when people directly asked you things afterward, your answers stayed short.
The worst part was how painfully aware you suddenly became of your own voice.
Every time you almost spoke, your chest tightened.
Were you talking too much again?
Were people secretly annoyed all the time?
Did they only tolerate you because they felt bad?
You hated how quickly your brain spiraled.
So instead of risking it, you stayed quiet, and apparently nobody noticed.
Well.
Nobody except him.
Later that evening, the apartment door opened and Taesan walked in.
The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.
Maybe it was because Taesan naturally carried himself like someone impossible not to notice. Tall frame wrapped in an oversized black hoodie, dark hair slightly messy from the wind outside, rings glinting against his fingers as he pushed the door shut behind him.
Or maybe it was because your stupid heart still reacted to him like it hadn’t learned better yet.
“Finally,” Leehan groaned. “You’re late.”
Taesan snorted. “I brought food. That cancels out the lateness.”
“It absolutely does not.”
“It literally does.”
Everyone started talking over each other immediately.
Taesan laughed under his breath while slipping off his shoes, and then his eyes found you almost instantly.
Always.
It didn’t matter how many people were in a room.
His attention somehow landed on you first every single time.
Your chest squeezed painfully.
You forced a smile before he made his way over, setting the takeout bags down on the table first before dropping onto the couch beside you.
“Hi,” he murmured.
“Hi.”
He leaned down automatically to kiss your cheek.
Usually you’d immediately start talking after that.
You’d tell him something random before he could even settle properly. Maybe about the weird guy you saw earlier, or how Hana almost burned the garlic bread, or some ridiculous thing you read online.
Instead, you stayed quiet.
Taesan pulled back slowly. His brows furrowed almost instantly. There it is, you thought miserably.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He greeted everyone else casually, fell into the rhythm of the conversation for maybe five minutes, but you could feel him glancing at you every few seconds.
Studying you.
By the sixth glance, you couldn’t even focus on the conversation anymore.
Then he leaned closer.
“You’re quiet,” he said softly enough that only you could hear. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head immediately.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
You even smiled a little to make it convincing.
It didn’t work on him for even half a second.
Taesan stared at you for another moment before narrowing his eyes slightly.
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve said maybe six words since I got here.”
You shrugged.
“I’m just tired.”
That earned you an unimpressed look. Because Taesan knew you. Knew you in the terrifyingly specific ways that made lying almost impossible.
He knew your fake smiles from your real ones. Knew the difference between your annoyed silence and your hurt silence. Knew when your thoughts were moving too fast because your fingers twitched against your sleeves.
And right now?
He knew something had happened.
Still, he didn’t push.
Not there.
Not in front of everyone.
Instead, he rested his arm behind you on the couch and stayed quiet.
But you could feel it.
The way he kept looking at you.
The way his jaw tightened every time someone else spoke while you stayed silent.
The way he frowned slightly whenever you laughed too softly at something.
You hated that he could tell.
You hated that you cared this much.
The evening dragged on painfully after that.
Usually you were the loudest person in the room. Usually Taesan spent half his time teasing you for bouncing between topics too fast for anyone else to follow.
Tonight, you mostly just listened.
And somehow that felt worse.
At some point, Riwoo brought up conspiracy theories.
Normally that would’ve been dangerous territory for you because you loved talking about weird things. Taesan especially loved listening to you spiral through theories with dramatic hand gestures and completely unnecessary diagrams drawn on napkins.
Tonight, you stayed quiet, and Taesan noticed immediately.
His head turned toward you.
“You don’t have anything to say about this?” he asked.
You blinked.
“Hm?”
“The conspiracy thing.”
“Oh.” You looked down at your drink. “Not really.”
Now everyone was staring at you like you’d grown a second head.
“Not really?” Hana repeated. “You literally made a thirty-minute presentation once.”
“It was not thirty minutes.”
“It was forty-five.”
Normally you would’ve argued dramatically. Normally you would’ve laughed. Instead, you just shrugged again.
Taesan’s expression darkened slightly.
He looked genuinely concerned now.
And honestly?
That almost made you emotional.
Because nobody else seemed to realize how weird this was except him.
The conversation continued, but you could feel Taesan getting quieter beside you too.
Observing.
Thinking.
Then eventually he leaned down near your ear.
“Come outside with me for a second.”
Your stomach twisted.
You nodded quietly.
Nobody really questioned it when he stood up and held his hand out toward you. You slipped your hand into his automatically and let him guide you toward the apartment balcony.
The cool night air hit your face immediately.
Nights always felt strangely comforting to you. Cold enough to wake you up a little, soft enough to calm you down.
Taesan slid the balcony door shut behind him.
Then he turned toward you fully.
“What happened?”
You looked away instantly.
“Nothing happened.”
“Baby.”
That voice.
That soft, patient voice he only used when he knew you were lying but wanted to give you the chance to tell the truth anyway.
You swallowed.
“It’s stupid.”
“Then tell me the stupid thing.”
You rubbed at your sleeve nervously. Taesan waited quietly. Somehow that made it worse. Because he wasn’t rushing you. Wasn’t dismissing you. Wasn’t acting annoyed. He just looked at you like what you said mattered.
Always.
Finally you sighed.
“I think I talk too much.”
Taesan blinked once.
“What?”
You laughed awkwardly.
“There. See? That reaction alone proves it.”
“What are you talking about?”
You hesitated.
Then quietly explained what happened earlier. The more you talked, the more Taesan’s expression changed. Not annoyed. Not embarrassed. Just increasingly upset on your behalf.
“And I know she didn’t mean it badly,” you rushed to explain. “Like logically I know that. I probably was talking too much. I do that sometimes and I know it can be annoying and—”
“Hey.”
Your words stopped immediately.
Taesan stepped closer.
“You know what I noticed when I got here?”
You frowned slightly.
“What?”
“You weren’t talking.”
“Well obviously.”
“And that bothered me.”
Your chest tightened unexpectedly.
Taesan shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before continuing.
“You know what this friend group sounded like before you joined?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“Dead.”
You snorted softly despite yourself.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Nobody talked this much. Nobody got excited this much. Half the hangouts used to be everyone staring at their phones.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s true.”
You rolled your eyes weakly.
Taesan leaned against the balcony railing.
“You talk a lot because you care a lot.”
Your throat felt weirdly tight now.
“You get excited over things. You tell stories like every detail matters. You make people laugh because your brain moves faster than your mouth.” His lips twitched slightly. “Sometimes significantly faster.”
You finally smiled a little.
“There she is,” he murmured immediately.
Your smile faltered from embarrassment.
“You don’t think I’m annoying?”
Taesan looked genuinely offended.
“Annoying? Baby, I voluntarily listen to you explain things I don’t even understand for hours.”
“That doesn’t count. You’re biased.”
“I’m absolutely biased. But I’m also right.”
You stared down at your shoes.
Taesan sighed softly before reaching over to tilt your chin up gently.
“I like listening to you.”
The sincerity in his voice made your stomach flip.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to.”
You looked at him carefully, and unfortunately for your emotional stability, he looked completely serious.
Taesan laughed quietly under his breath.
“You know what's my favorite thing?”
“What?”
“The way you start rambling when you’re excited and then halfway through you realize you forgot the original point.”
You groaned immediately.
“Oh my god.”
“And then you try to backtrack but somehow the story gets even longer.”
“Taesan.”
“And your hands start doing this—” He mimicked your overly animated gestures badly.
You smacked his arm instantly.
“That is not what I look like.”
“That’s exactly what you look like.”
“You’re evil.”
He grinned.
“There she is again.”
You hated how easily he could pull you out of your moods sometimes.
Taesan’s expression softened after a moment.
“Do you know how quiet you got in there?”
You looked away again.
“Yeah.”
“I hated it.”
That surprised you.
“You did?”
“Mhm.”
He reached for your hand absentmindedly, playing with your fingers while he spoke.
“When you’re quiet because you’re tired, it’s different. Tonight you looked like you were trying to make yourself smaller.”
Your chest ached immediately. Because that was exactly what you’d been doing.
Taesan sighed softly.
“I don’t like when people make you feel like you need to shrink yourself.”
You blinked rapidly.
“It wasn’t even a big deal—”
“It hurt your feelings.”
The simple certainty in his voice almost undid you.
You laughed weakly instead.
“I sound dramatic.”
“You are dramatic.”
“Wow.”
“But you’re also sensitive.” He squeezed your hand gently. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
You stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling,
“I was trying really hard not to talk too much afterward.”
“I know.”
“I kept thinking about everything I said before speaking.”
“I know.”
“And then I got scared to talk at all because what if everyone secretly agrees with her?”
Taesan’s face softened painfully.
Then suddenly he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you. The hug caught you off guard enough that you melted into him almost instantly.
“You know what I think?” he murmured against your hair.
“What?”
“I think if somebody genuinely didn’t like you talking, they wouldn’t keep inviting you everywhere.”
You hummed quietly.
“And I think,” he continued, “you’re way too loved for that.”
Your throat tightened embarrassingly fast.
Taesan pulled back slightly just to look at you.
“And personally? I could listen to you talk forever.”
“That’s insane.”
“It probably is.”
You laughed quietly into his hoodie.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
The city lights glowed softly around you while distant traffic hummed below.
Then unfortunately your brain started functioning normally again.
“So anyway speaking of conspiracy theories—”
Taesan burst out laughing immediately.
“There she is.”
“No because listen,” you said, suddenly animated again. “Why do celebrities always wear sunglasses inside buildings? That’s suspicious behavior.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m serious. There has to be a reason.”
Taesan leaned against the railing again while you started talking properly for the first time all evening.
And because he loved you hopelessly, completely, disgustingly much—
He listened. Not the fake kind of listening either. Not the kind where someone nods while waiting for their turn to speak.
Taesan listened like every word mattered.
Like your thoughts were something precious.
You started pacing slightly as you spoke, hands moving dramatically while you explained your ridiculous theory about celebrities, government replacements, and weird airport behavior.
Halfway through, you got distracted by another thought entirely.
“Wait actually speaking of airports, did I ever tell you about the guy I saw eating tuna at like six in the morning?”
Taesan smiled immediately.
The topic switch.
Classic you.
“Yes,” he said fondly. “Three times.”
“Right, okay, but that’s because it was genuinely disturbing behavior.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“No because imagine waking up and deciding tuna is breakfast food.”
Taesan watched you continue talking. Watched the way your face lit up again. Watched your eyes brighten more with every sentence.
And maybe it was pathetic how much affection filled his chest from something as simple as this. But he couldn’t help it. He loved listening to you. Loved the way your thoughts wandered unpredictably. Loved how passionate you got over tiny things. Loved how conversations with you never stayed on one topic for longer than three minutes.
You made everything feel alive.
Even silence felt warmer around you.
You eventually stopped mid-sentence suddenly.
Taesan blinked.
“What?”
You squinted at him suspiciously.
“You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you stare at me like I’m a cute puppy.”
“I’ve never made that face in my life.”
“You’re literally making it right now.”
He laughed quietly.
“Maybe I just like you.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically.
“Cringe.”
“And yet you stay.”
“Unfortunately.”
Taesan pulled you closer by your hoodie strings.
“You know what else?”
“What?”
“You look happiest when you’re talking.”
That hit you strangely hard. Because nobody had ever said that before, and maybe it was silly. Maybe it was stupid how emotional something so small made you feel.
But Taesan noticed things.
Tiny things.
The kinds of things people usually overlooked.
You looked away shyly.
“That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s cute.”
“Even more embarrassing.”
Taesan laughed softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
Then the balcony door suddenly slid open behind you. Riwoo peeked outside dramatically.
“Oh thank god,” he sighed. “She’s talking again. We were getting scared.”
You groaned instantly.
Taesan smirked.
“Told you.”
Riwoo pointed accusingly at you.
“Do you know how weird it was in there without you talking about something random every five minutes?”
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s not fake,” Leehan called from inside. “Come back and tell us more conspiracy theories.”
You blinked in surprise.
Taesan watched your expression carefully.
That tiny moment of realization. Maybe they did like listening to you after all.
Riwoo grinned.
“Seriously. The silence was depressing.”
You laughed softly before looking at Taesan again, and the look on his face nearly melted you alive.
Fond.
That was the only word for it.
Like he was genuinely relieved to see you smiling again.
You nudged him lightly.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m adorable.”
“You are adorable.”
“Taesan.”
“You’re literally pouting.”
You immediately stopped pouting. Which only made him laugh harder.
Riwoo gagged loudly.
“You two are disgusting. Get back inside.”
Taesan snorted before intertwining his fingers with yours again. As he led you back inside, he leaned down slightly and murmured near your ear,
“By the way.”
“Hm?”
“If anyone tells you to stop talking again, I’m fighting them.”
You stared at him.
“That’s insane.”
“Mhm.”
“You can’t fight people for not wanting to hear me yap.”
“I can and I will.”
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
And that sound alone made Taesan think the entire world was worth it.
NEW MATCH FOUND . . . You’ve always had a huge thing for emo boys—so much that your friends made it their mission to set you up with every single one they could find. But no matter how many blind setups or awkward hangouts, none of them ever sparked anything real. At least, not until he came along. The only problem? He just so happened to be your brother Sungho’s best friend. and before you even realized, Sungho and your friends were already scheming behind your back to push you two together.
OR IN WHICH! In which every failed setup finally leads to the right boy—taesan, the emo best friend you weren’t supposed to fall for. And while you’re too busy denying the obvious, everyone else is one step ahead, planning ways to make sure you don’t miss your chance.
MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN! brother’s bestfriend!taesan x fem!reader (ft. boynextdoor , yunah from illit , rei from ive , jihoon from tws , mention of anton from riize , zhang hao from zb1 , yn as @/i_haveatree + tba! )
THIS CONTAINS › smau romcom crack love at first sight strangers to lovers some written chapters high school au profanity bad humor mentions of death jokes (lower case intended)
STATUS -> completed! [09/02/25 — 01/17/26]
🗒️ AUTHOR’S NOTE! › just yesterday my ideas were all bad in my mind until @ihankaji came 🩶 spent at least a week to think of an interesting plot lmaoo 😭 hope this will be a fun smau! updates will start in a week :)
──── 「태산」 ( ✿︎ ) having a girlfriend who breathes pink should be a nightmare for a self-proclaimed nonchalant guy, but taesan loves every second of it .ᐟ ✮
THEY SAY OPPOSITES MAKE THE BEST MATCH. and you believe that whichever wise specimen shared the quote is correct, because you and your man are polar opposites.
han dongmin, better known as han taesan is notorious for his never ending collection of raven clothing, accessories and what not. anything anyone can think of? he has it in an ebony or neutral tone at best.
but, due to a certain change of events, he’s not the taesan he was a year ago. now, he’s your beloved boyfriend— he’s your pink loving, glitter covered self’s boyfriend.
he has changed for the better in his opinion, because thinking of the past where you weren’t his makes him want to jump off of a cliff. you take his change happily, his friends however, just can’t stop teasing the living shit out of him.
“god forbid a man love his girlfriend even if she loves pink as much as leehan loves corydoras.” — han taesan, two-thousand-twenty-six.
he sports a pink hair tie on his wrist permanently, as if the simple tie marks him as yours; as you know, a pink hair tie stands out on a outfit that you can find on pinterest under the search ‘grunge outfit inspo’.
“oh, you want that cookie so bad.” riwoo is non-stop clicking pictures of the sight infront of him, taesan with a pink hair tie as a bracelet and a ring with a shiny pink gemstone, as though he came across dinosaurs in the open.
speaking of ring, last valentines day you got him a gorgeous silver ring with the most delicate pink gem on it, saying that as long as he wears this ring, he has a part of your bright personality and passion for pink with him.
he hasn’t took it off since.
today, you’re feeling inspired. you have taesan sitting on the edge of the bed as you straddle his hips with a soft pink hairclip in your hand. your fingers flow through his soft dark locks as you try to clip the pin in the best way you see fit.
at the same time, taesan? he’s smiling a lovesick smile, his hands stay resting on your hips as he draws shapes on the curve of your hips absent-mindedly and his eyes reflect hearts.
he lets you do whatever you want without a complaint, forget a complaint, not even a beat is wasted before he agrees to anything you want to do.
which is how he ends up with a ribbon tied loosely but tight enough not to fall on his wrist, a hello kitty hairpin is in his hair, his beloved pink-silver ring on his ring finger and a my melody keychain hanging in one of the belt loops of his jeans.
he looks like a emo boy who fell victim to a pink cyclone. he could have removed the pink coloured accessories in the car, but he doesn’t want to undo the work you did on him with his favourite smile in the whole world.
so, he shows up to the chill hangout hosted at jaehyun’s appartment and the second he walks in chaos erupts, “our resident emo lover boy finally showed up!” sungho yells, uncaring of the poor neighbour’s of myung.
woonhak gives a eyeroll that says i knew this would happen, yet i’m still amused this is reality, “you look like a unicorn threw up on you.”
“it’s a couple of accessories,” taesan retorts with a scoff. “and what’s wrong if i look like it? unicorns aren’t exactly ugly.” he expects chuckles but the chaos explodes ten fold.
everyone bursts out laughing as if they heard the funniest sentence in the whole universe. the other five’s voices overlap over one another, and the teasing starts.
“you’re not the taesan that’s my homeboy! get out!”
“love hit him like a meteor.”
“who knew the girlfriend effect could be this effective and insane?”
“look at our resident romeo!”
taesan rolls his eyes, even though his ears are slightly pink, “alright, pack it up—” he starts but they don’t stop. they only tease more and more. sungho ruffles his hair with a shit-eating grin, leehan is pointing and laughing as if there’s no tomorrow, all while the non-stop chatter of the other three is loud enough for jaehyun to possibly get evicted.
well, this has happened many times. everytime he thinks about it for two seconds and immediately he follows it up with a worth it when he sees you and your shiny pink lip gloss.
a part of taesan’s routine is helping you put rollers in your hair at night so that you can achieve soft curls first thing in the morning, which means basically ensuring a good start to your day because a good hair day is a good day.
his fingers gently work their wonders on your hair. he slowly rolls your locks in the cylindrical rollers, clipping them in place. he does it with the precision of a surgeon too, as if he will get fired from an imaginary job where he’s supposed to put rollers in your hair if he doesn’t do it perfectly.
he admires his work afterwards, contently humming as you turn for him. he watches as you then do your skincare routine, tilting his head as he asks what double cleansing is. you answer his question and he nods.
after not even ten seconds, he asks another question. and then another. every single day it’s like he comes prepared with a list of questions to ask you. he just can’t help it, he wants to know everything about the things you love.
he applies your hair serum for you on hair wash days. his hands gently work the serum into your scalp, giving you a massage-slash-serum application service with the focus of a hair stylist.
taesan remembers how you said that serum is only to be applied in the scalp while conditioner is applied on the ends, not the scalp. he works methodically, massaging in sections to ensure the serum is absorbed completely.
he dries your hair for you, he’s basically your at home salon. he blow dries your hair carefully, making sure the drier doesn’t get too close. he smiles a soft grin when he sees you look in the mirror at your reflection, contended with the result.
he holds your many, many bags on your shopping trips. taesan sees you look at any clothing item for a second too long? he’s buying it for you.
he never lets you pay for all the stuff you buy, insisting that he earns to spoil you, making you blush as he winks and slides his card. spoiling you is second nature for this man.
he buys you pink roses, your favourite flower, on various occasions because ‘he felt the need to give you a rose.’ he doesn’t buy you a bouquet unless it’s a special occasion.
instead, he buys a single rose. when you open the door, he either has the stem stuck in between his teeth or he’s on his knees with the rose held out for you in a very proposal stance.
he loves being extra, but only for you to see, as— one, you love it. two, he doesn’t think anybody else deserves to experience this side of him except you.
he takes you out on lavish dinners due to the fact that you love taking lots of pictures and the over-the-top restaurants are a rather good location for photography.
and also because in his humble opinion, you deserve it and so much more.
down bad much.
taesan watches from behind you as you twirl infront of the mirror after getting ready with the most whipped grin in existence on his face with a look that screams this is the best thing life has to offer.
when you ask him how you look later, he makes silly heart poses, while complementing you ten times, maybe even fifteen. you giggle in response at his antics, and he smiles fondly as he made you smile.
this is what it’s like to be his beloved girlfriend. taesan’s love for you knows no bounds. he will handle anything just to make sure you stay happy, because a time where you aren’t smiling is his worst fear.
who knew love could chance a person so much? he certainly didn’t know that he would go from a nirvana truther to a lana del ray listener. it’s insane really, taesan says it’s due to the girlfriend effect.
𝓚𝑰𝑹𝑨'𝑺 𝙎𝒊𝙂𝓝𝘼𝙇 ( ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ) ARGHHHH I WANT HIM SBBBBBBBB yes he's by current bias along with leehan :3 I ♡ taesan AND LIKE HES SUCH A GENTLEMAN IN THIS....... but like I'm not as satisfied w this as I've been with all of the other cards so pls lmk how this is b4 I spiral :// ++ LIKE + REBLOG = MWAH ♡ DO IT (by skz)
𓆩♡𓆪 taglist! @stewpidchezcat @myuviis ☆ OPEN
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ regulars! @woniefication @shyoko @yooniso ☆ SEND AN ASK TO BE ADDED !
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ HAN DONGMIN is a niche influencer who runs a small, unimportant blog under the alias, Taesan. One night, something important literally drops from space right to his garage. You arrive fully formed in Taesan’s garage room with no past, no context, and no understanding of people. The internet calls it fiction, he calls it living with you ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ
OR IN WHICH 한동민 documents the ordinary act of learning how to exist together, and with the helpful push of the internet, he finds that domesticity isn’t the only new thing he learns about himself…
⟢ PAIRING • influencer!taesan x alien!reader ( ft. all members of boynextdoor, rei and leeseo from ive, eric from the boyz, anton and wonbin from riize, and yeojun from close your eyes )
GENRE. SMAU, romance, slice of life, comedy, angst, strangers to lovers, slow burn, & fantasy WARNINGS. The internet being pushy, reader is super oblivious, some scenes are suggestive, and angst is going to be present. TAGLIST IS CLOSED -> ONGOING | 1k FOLLOWS SPECIAL!!!
MORE WORKS: navigation | bnd!masterlist
❚❚ NOW OPENING: 한동민’S BLOG ‣
⋆｡°✩ HOW IT ALL STARTED… (prologue)
message from 한동민: oh yeahhh btw guys i forgot to send my linkedin type shhh. Mb gang, here it is: https://dongmin-is-so-sexy/profiles.com
01. um.. what do I do now.? Is there an instruction manual?
02. guys…the alien doesn’t know what a name is..
03. is it normal for her to just be saying my name? (wc. 1.1k)
04. pack it up. I gotta get the alien new clothes…
05. cooking might not just be her forte.
06. apparently i’m a big bad influence!
07. so uh….she’d rather mimic than play mimic? (wc. 1k)
08. wait…she doesn’t need sleep..?!
09. why is it that i’m either talking cap or delusional
10. posing like a pinterest girlfriend
11. her first day (back..?) to school!
12. she’s too popular for her own good
13. difference isn’t bad, end of story
14. a small shop we found between two cafes
15. a racing heart…is this love?
16. i mean, hand holding is normal between friends, right?
17. an opportunity i cannot deny has appeared
18. ah, so we can’t be together.?
19. i need to spend as much time with her as i have left
ㅤㅤ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ( ❄️ ) so, tell me what's on your wishlist,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI wanna make it come true .ᐟ ୨୧
۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : Taesan never cared much for Christmas, but dating you has made the season feel strangely new to him. A few weeks into your relationship, you bring him Christmas shopping, determined to find him the perfect gift, only for him to dismiss every option without explanation. You think he’s being picky, but really, Taesan's hiding a wish he stubbornly can't bring himself to say, and it has nothing to do with anything sold in the mall. ۶ৎ PAIRING : (non)chalant taesan x reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : sweet as candy cane fluff !! ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : none! just Taesan desperately waiting for his Christmas mwuah! ۶ৎ PLAYLIST : santa doesn't know you like i do - Sabrina Carpenter ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 5.1k words
۶ৎ A/N : hihi !! sorry this post is delayed by a few days bcs I've been really busy and sick😭this fic is part of "12 days of kpopblr" !! I'm truly honored to be working with so many lovely writers for this event !! I hope you all enjoy this fic and Merry Christmas Eve (It's December 24th where I am already ~) !! 🎄🤍
The first time Taesan held your hand, he'd laced his fingers through yours like he was afraid you'd disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough. Four weeks into dating, and he still hadn't quite figured out how to look at you without his ears turning red.
You noticed. Of course you noticed.
But you never called him out on it, not in a mean way, at least. You'd just smile, soft and knowing, and pretend you didn't see the blush creeping up his neck whenever you leaned too close or laughed at one of his dry observations about the world.
Tonight was no different.
"Are you cold?" you asked, swinging your intertwined hands between you both as you walked down the lamp-lit street. Snow had started falling an hour ago, dusting the sidewalks in white and clinging to the wool of his black coat. The city looked softer under the blanket of winter—streetlights haloed in gold, storefronts glowing warm through frosted windows.
"No." His voice came out low, quiet. He squeezed your hand once, a silent reassurance that he was fine, that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere. "Are you?"
"Not really." You tilted your head up to catch snowflakes on your lashes, grinning at the sky like it had personally arranged this moment just for you. "I love this weather. Everything feels like it's waiting for Christmas."
Taesan glanced at you, the kind of look that lingered too long to be casual. Your cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, your breath fogging in the air as you laughed at nothing in particular. Snowflakes clung to your hair, melting slowly against the warmth of your skin. He didn't understand how you could be this happy about snow, lights and holidays that meant crowds, noise and forced cheer.
But he liked watching you be happy.
He liked it more than he'd ever admit out loud.
You turned to him suddenly, catching him mid-stare. "You're staring at me," you teased, bumping your shoulder against his.
His ears burned. "I'm not."
"You are." Your grin widened, eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's very obvious."
"I was just looking at the snow."
"Sure you were."
"I was."
"Uh-huh." You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet street. "It's okay, you know. I don't mind."
He wanted to say he wasn't staring, that he was just observing, just taking in his surroundings like any normal person would. But the words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the other things he couldn't say yet. Things he kept locked away in the spaces between breaths, in the pauses before he spoke, in the moments when you weren't looking and he could let himself feel everything without fear of it showing on his face.
So instead, he just held your hand tighter and hoped you couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating.
You walked in comfortable silence for a while, your footsteps crunching softly against the snow. Occasionally, you'd point out holiday decorations in shop windows—a ceramic reindeer here, a string of silver bells there—and he'd nod along, committing every detail to memory. Not the decorations, but you. The flash of excitement in your eyes. The animated gestures you made with your free hand. The bounce in your step when you spotted a particularly elaborate window display.
He'd never been good at this—at being open, at showing affection in ways that were obvious and easy to read. But with you, he was trying. Holding your hand when you walked together. Texting you good morning even though he wasn't a morning person. Listening to you talk about your day and remembering the small details you mentioned in passing.
It felt like learning a new language. One where he stumbled over pronunciation and mixed up grammar, but you were patient enough to let him figure it out at his own pace.
When you reached your apartment building, you turned to face him, still holding his hand. The streetlamp above cast a warm glow across your features, and Taesan found himself memorizing the curve of your smile, the glint of snow in your hair, the gentle rise and fall of your breath in the cold air.
"Thanks for walking me home," you said.
"It's not far."
"Still." You squeezed his hand. "I like it when you do."
His throat felt tight. He wanted to say more, wanted to tell you that he'd walk you home every night if you'd let him, that these quiet moments at your doorstep had become his favourite part of the day, that leaving you here and going back to his empty apartment was getting harder each time.
But the words stayed locked in his chest.
Instead, he just nodded.
You stood there for a moment longer, and Taesan realized how near you were. His attention snagged on the details of your face, on the urge to lean forward and close the distance.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
“Do it,” a voice in his head urged. “Just close the distance. She's right there.”
But what if you weren't ready? What if he'd misread everything and you pulled away? What if he ruined this fragile, precious connection between you by moving too fast?
The fear paralyzed him, locking him in place, stealing movement and thought alike, leaving him suspended in the moment with no idea how to proceed.
"Goodnight, Taesan," you said softly, and there was a flicker of disappointment in your eyes that he didn't catch.
The moment broke, tension dissolving all at once, the fragile stillness giving way as reality pressed back in.
"Goodnight," he managed, voice rougher than he intended.
You gave him one last smile before disappearing into your building, and Taesan stood there in the falling snow, hands shoved deep in his pockets, wondering when he'd become such a coward.
He stayed there for longer than he should have, watching the light in your apartment window flicker on a few floors up. When your silhouette appeared briefly behind the curtains, he finally forced himself to turn and walk away.
The cold bit at his face, but all he could think about was how warm your hand had been in his.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
The thing about Taesan was that he didn't do Christmas.
He never had.
Growing up, it felt like a holiday designed for people who thrived in chaos—endless family gatherings where relatives asked invasive questions, last-minute shopping trips through packed malls, the performative joy that everyone seemed obligated to display whether they felt it or not. He preferred quiet. He preferred routines that didn't get disrupted by red and green decorations, carols playing on repeat in every store, strangers wishing him happy holidays with forced enthusiasm.
December had always been a month to endure, not celebrate.
But then you came into his life, and suddenly Christmas wasn't just tolerable.
It was you.
You, who hung miniature ornaments from your bag that jingled softly when you walked. You, who hummed carols under your breath while waiting in line for coffee, unconsciously swaying to rhythms only you could hear. You, who talked about holiday plans with so much genuine excitement that he started looking forward to December just because it made you smile.
He'd never cared about mistletoe, snow or twinkling lights strung across buildings.
Now he noticed every single one.
He found himself paying attention when you pointed out decorated storefronts, when you dragged him to see the giant tree in the city square, when you made him try peppermint hot chocolate even though he insisted he wouldn't like it. (He did like it. He'd never tell you that. You already looked too smug about being right.)
The shift happened so gradually he didn't realize it at first. December stopped being an inconvenience and started being a countdown to moments with you. Each day brought new decorations you'd get excited about, new plans you'd make, new reasons for you to look at him with those bright, hopeful eyes that made his chest feel too small for his heart.
And Taesan, who'd spent years being indifferent to the holiday season, suddenly found himself wishing it would last longer.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
"Taesan."
He blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. You were standing in front of him in the campus library, hands on your hips, eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. Your scarf was slightly askew, and there was a dusting of snow on your shoulders from the walk over.
"You weren't listening," you accused.
"I was," he lied, closing his textbook. Chemistry could wait.
"Then what did I just say?"
He opened his mouth, closed it. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to recall even a single word you'd spoken in the last thirty seconds.
Nothing.
You burst out laughing, the sound earning you a few annoyed glances from nearby students trying to study. You didn't seem to notice or care.
"You silly kitty," you said, shaking your head as you pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "I said we should go Christmas shopping this weekend. I still need to get gifts for people, and you—" You leaned forward, poking his textbook for emphasis. "—you need to tell me what you want."
"I don't need anything."
"That's not how this works."
"I'm serious." He met your eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. "You don't have to get me anything."
You frowned, tilting your head as you studied his face. "But I want to. That's the whole point of giving gifts. I want to get you things that'll make you happy."
His chest tightened at the earnestness in your voice.
"You already do," he said quietly.
"Do what?"
"Make me happy."
The words came out before he could stop them, and he immediately wanted to take them back. Too much, too honest, too revealing. But you just smiled, soft, genuine and breathtaking, and Taesan forgot why he'd been embarrassed in the first place.
"That's sweet," you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice. "But I still want to get you a real present. So start thinking about what you want, okay?"
He wanted to tell you that he'd been thinking about it for weeks. That there was one thing he wanted more than anything else, but it wasn't the kind of thing he could ask for without risking everything you'd built together.
Instead, he just nodded.
“Okay."
"Good." You leaned back in your chair, looking satisfied. "So, Saturday? We can make a day of it. Shopping, food, maybe ice skating if you're feeling adventurous."
"I don't ice skate."
"Then you'll just have to hold onto me the whole time." You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I won't complain."
His ears burned red, and you laughed at his expression.
"I'm kidding. Kind of. But seriously—Saturday?"
"Yeah," he agreed, because he'd never been good at saying no to you. "Saturday."
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
Saturday arrived wrapped in fresh snow and clear blue skies.
Taesan met you at the train station, hands buried in his coat pockets, breath fogging in the frigid air. You showed up five minutes late, cheeks flushed from running, apologizing profusely even though he didn't mind waiting.
"Sorry, sorry! I couldn't find my good scarf and then I had to go back for my wallet—"
"It's fine," he interrupted gently, and without thinking, he reached out to adjust the scarf you'd finally found. It was the blue one he'd complimented once in passing. He didn't think you'd remember. "We're not in a rush."
You went still under his touch, eyes wide. For a second, neither of you moved.
Then Taesan realized what he was doing, how close he was standing, how intimate the gesture seemed, and quickly stepped back, clearing his throat.
"We should go," he said, avoiding your gaze.
"Yeah," you agreed, voice slightly breathless. "Let's go."
The train ride into the city was crowded, forcing you to stand pressed close together near the doors. Every time the train swayed, you'd bump into him, and Taesan would steady you with a hand on your elbow, hyperaware of every point of contact between you.
"Thanks," you'd murmur each time, and he'd just nod, not trusting his voice.
By the time you reached your stop, his heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the cramped space or stuffy air.
The mall was worse than he'd anticipated.
Crowds of shoppers moved in chaotic streams through decorated corridors, children shrieked with excitement near the massive Christmas tree in the center atrium, and holiday music blared from speakers mounted to the ceiling. Garland and lights covered every available surface, red and gold ornaments dangled at eye level, and the scent of cinnamon and pine hung heavy in the air.
Taesan felt overwhelmed within minutes.
But then you grabbed his hand, threading your fingers through his, and suddenly the noise faded into background static.
"Don't lose me," you said, grinning up at him.
As if he ever could.
You dragged him towards the first store with determined purpose, eyes scanning the displays for gift ideas. Taesan followed dutifully, content to let you lead even though he had no idea what you were looking for.
"Okay," you announced, stopping in front of a display of winter accessories. "First priority, figuring out what you want."
"I told you—"
"Yeah, yeah, you don't want anything." You waved him off, already picking up a dark gray scarf. "But humor me." You held it up to his neck, considering. "What about this?"
"It's fine."
"Fine doesn't mean you want it."
"I don't."
You huffed, setting it back down with more force than necessary. "Okay. What about a sweater?" You gestured to a nearby rack of knitted pullovers in various neutral tones.
"I have sweaters."
"Everyone has sweaters. That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is getting you things you'll actually use and enjoy." You turned to face him fully, hands on your hips in that way that meant you weren't backing down. "Work with me here, Taesan."
He bit back a smile. You looked cute when you were frustrated—nose scrunched, lips pressed into a determined line, eyes blazing with stubborn resolve.
"What about a mug?" you tried again, pointing to a display of ceramic cups with various winter designs.
"I have mugs."
"A hat?"
"Don't need one."
"Gloves?"
"I'm fine."
"A—wait, let me think—" You tapped your chin, scanning the store with narrowed eyes. "A record? You like music. We could go to that vintage shop on the third floor."
"I can find my own music."
You groaned, and Taesan couldn't help it. He laughed, just a quiet huff of amusement, but it was enough to make you whirl around and glare at him.
"You're doing this on purpose," you accused.
"I’m not."
"You are. You're being deliberately difficult because you think it's funny."
"I'm being honest."
"You're being impossible." But there was no real anger in your voice, just exasperation tinged with fondness. "There has to be something you want. Everyone wants things."
“Not things you can buy,” he thought. “Not things I can ask for without ruining everything.”
"I just don't need anything," he said instead, voice careful. "I'm good with what I have."
You stared at him for a long moment, scanning his face for an answer he didn’t know how to offer. Then you exhaled, your shoulders easing downwards, the weight of the moment settling into you.
“Fine. But I'm not giving up. We have all day.”
He knew you wouldn't.
That's what scared him.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
Two hours and seven stores later, you'd asked him about dozens of potential gifts.
Books. Headphones. A watch. A wallet. A plant. A desk lamp. Fancy pens. A puzzle. A cookbook he'd never use. Art prints for his apartment. A throw blanket. Cologne. A journal. A chess set.
His answer was the same every time : polite refusal, vague deflection, insistence that he didn't need anything.
And each time you grew more determined, more frustrated, more convinced that you just hadn't found the right thing yet.
Taesan felt guilty watching you search so earnestly for a gift he couldn't tell you didn't exist in any store. But how could he explain? How could he look at you and say that the only thing he wanted for Christmas was to be brave enough to close the distance between you? To stop hesitating at your doorstep? To kiss you without fear of it being too soon or too much?
He couldn't.
So he stayed quiet and let you pull him through store after store, and he memorized the concentrated furrow of your brow, the determined set of your jaw, the way you'd light up briefly before realizing he'd say no again.
"I don't get it," you said as you left another shop empty-handed. You'd stopped in the middle of the mall corridor, forcing other shoppers to flow around you both like water around a stone. "You have to want something. What about hobbies? What do you do for fun?"
“Listen to music."
"Which you said you don't need help with."
"Read."
"You rejected the book idea."
"Sleep."
You leveled him with an unimpressed look. "I'm not getting you a pillow, Taesan."
He almost smiled. "Noted."
"This is ridiculous." You crossed your arms, and Taesan noticed the way your coat had ridden up slightly, exposing the vulnerable curve of your neck to the cold. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled your collar up gently, fixing it.
Your breath caught.
He froze, hand still resting against your collar, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. He could see the flecks of gold in your eyes, could count each individual eyelash, could feel the warmth radiating from your skin despite the cold air.
"Sorry," he murmured, but he didn't step back. Couldn't step back.
"It's okay." Your voice came out softer than usual. "You're always doing things like that."
"Like what?"
"Taking care of me. Little things." You smiled, shy and sweet. "I like it."
His heart slammed against his ribs.
“Say it,” the voice in his head urged. “Tell her right now. Just be honest for once.”
But the words lodged in his throat, too heavy and too terrifying to speak aloud.
Someone bumped into him from behind, breaking the moment. Taesan stepped back quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at your face. "Should we—" He cleared his throat. "Should we get food?"
You blinked, clearly wanting to say more, but finally nodded. "Yeah. Food sounds good."
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
An hour after getting food (hot chocolate, after you vetoed real food and he gave up arguing), you’d dragged him back into the shopping chaos with renewed determination.
"There has to be something," you insisted, pulling him towards a store that sold elaborate home goods. "What about candles? Everyone likes candles."
"I don't use candles."
"Decorative ones? For ambiance."
"I don't need ambiance."
"Taesan." You stopped walking, forcing him to face you. Your expression was caught between amusement and genuine frustration. "I just want to get you a gift. A real gift. Can you please give me something to work with?"
He hesitated, throat tight.
There was one thing. One thing he wanted more than anything else in the world. But it wasn't the kind of present you could wrap or put under a tree. It wasn't the kind of thing he could just ask for without making everything weird and complicated.
"There is… something," he admitted, voice barely audible over the mall noise.
Your eyes lit up. "Really? What is it?"
"It's—" He stopped, courage failing him. "It's not important."
"Yes it is." You stepped closer, and he could smell the faint scent of your shampoo, could see the earnest concern in your eyes. "If you want it, it's important. Tell me."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Because I'm terrified. Because I don't want to pressure you. Because if I say it out loud and you're not ready, I'll ruin everything we have.
"It's just not the kind of thing you can buy," he said instead, looking away.
You were quiet for a long moment. When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, understanding in a way that made his chest ache.
"Oh."
That single syllable carried so much weight. Realization. Comprehension. Sympathy.
His ears burned red, mortification creeping up his neck. He wanted to disappear, to rewind the last thirty seconds and keep his mouth shut.
"Taesan," you said softly.
"Forget it." He started walking, needing to move, needing to escape the vulnerability of the moment. "Let's just—let's keep looking."
You didn't press. You just caught up to him, slipping your hand into his, and he was grateful for your understanding even as he cursed his own cowardice.
You continued through the mall in relative silence, the earlier playfulness replaced by a tension neither of you acknowledged. You still pointed out potential gifts, but your heart wasn't in it anymore. And Taesan still deflected, but now it felt hollow, performative.
The day was slipping away, and he was wasting it.
By the time evening arrived, the mall had grown somehow more crowded. Families with small children, couples on dates, groups of teenagers laughing too loud—everyone seemed determined to take advantage of the last few hours before closing.
"Let's go this way," you said, tugging him towards a quieter hallway. "I think there are some smaller boutiques down here that we haven't checked yet."
Taesan let you lead him away from the main corridor, grateful for the decrease in noise and bodies. The hallway you chose was narrower, less decorated but somehow cozier. White lights were strung along the ceiling in delicate loops, casting everything in a soft, warm glow. Small shops lined either side, their windows displaying handmade goods and artisan crafts.
It felt more intimate here. Private.
You slowed your pace, no longer rushing from store to store with frantic energy. Instead, you walked close to him, shoulders brushing with each step, hand warm in his.
"This is better," you murmured, more to yourself than to him.
Taesan hummed in agreement, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles on the back of your hand, a familiar, grounding rhythm.
And then you stopped.
The change was subtle but unmistakable—your stillness, the way your gaze fixed above, like you’d been pulled out of the moment without warning.
“What?” he asked confused, brows knitting with concern. “What are you looking at?”
You didn't answer right away, just kept staring upwards with an expression he couldn't quite read.
He followed your gaze.
His heart stopped. His breath hitched.
Mistletoe.
A small sprig of it hung directly above you both, tied with a red velvet ribbon and nestled among the garland draped across the hallway entrance. The white berries caught the light from the string of bulbs above, and for one frozen moment, Taesan couldn't breathe.
This was it.
This was the moment he'd been thinking about for weeks, the moment he'd imagined a dozen different ways and still didn't feel prepared for.
You noticed a second later, following his gaze. Your eyes widened, and then you laughed, soft, surprised, a little bit shy.
"Oh," you said. "That's... that's pretty convenient."
Taesan's pulse thundered in his ears. His palms were sweating. His mind was racing through every possible outcome, every way this could go wrong.
But you were looking at him now, waiting, and he realized with sudden clarity that he couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep hesitating, keep holding back, keep letting fear dictate his choices.
"We don't have to—" you started, voice careful, giving him an out.
"I want to."
The words came out raw, honest, entirely too revealing. But he didn't care anymore.
Your lips parted in surprise. "What?"
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to hold your gaze even though every instinct told him to look away.
“That’s what I want,” he said, voice quiet, rough around the edges like he was holding himself together by sheer will. “That’s what I’ve wanted. For… longer than I probably should admit.”
He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, shaking his head. “I kept telling myself to wait. To be normal about it. To not read into every time you stood a little too close or looked at me like that.”
His thumb brushed your sleeve, tentative, like he was checking whether he was still allowed to be this near. “I didn’t know how to ask without making it weird. Or without making you feel like you had to say yes.”
He glanced up at you then, eyes soft, hopeful in a way that made your chest ache. “I didn’t want to rush you. Or mess this up. Or be the guy who moves too fast and risk losing whatever this is between us.”
A small, almost shy smile tugged at his mouth. “So I waited. And waited. But… if you want it too—”
He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he hesitated for just a second too long. His gaze searched your face, careful, hopeful. “Could I… could I kiss you?”
You stared at him, eyes wide, and for a terrible moment he thought he'd ruined everything.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across your face, warm, fond, impossibly tender.
"Taesan," you said, and your voice was soft enough that he had to lean closer to hear. "You're an idiot."
He blinked. "What?"
"I've been waiting for you to kiss me for two weeks."
His brain short-circuited. "You—what?"
He blinked at you, trying to process the words. Two weeks? You'd been waiting for two weeks?
"But—" He struggled to form a coherent thought. "You never said anything. You never—I thought—"
"I was trying to be patient," you said, and there was amusement dancing in your eyes now. "I didn't want to pressure you. You always seemed so nervous, and I figured you'd do it when you were ready."
"I almost did," he admitted, the words tumbling out now that the dam had broken. "So many times. That night I walked you home in the snow? I wanted to kiss you at your door so badly I could barely think straight."
"I know," you said softly, and his eyes widened.
"You knew?"
"Taesan, you stared at my lips for like ten seconds before saying goodnight." You were trying not to laugh now. "It wasn't exactly subtle."
He groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my god."
"And then you just... left." You pulled his hand away so you could see his face. "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. Or that I'd misread everything."
"You didn't misread anything," he said, voice muffled by embarrassment. "I was just—I'm an idiot."
"Yeah," you agreed, but you were smiling. "But you're my idiot."
And then, before he could overthink it, before he could talk himself out of it, before fear could paralyze him again—
You rose up on your toes and gently pressed your lips to his.
It was soft at first, tentative, like you were giving him room to pull away if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. He'd never wanted anything less.
Instead, he melted into it, one hand coming up to cup your cheek while the other found your waist, pulling you closer. His heart was racing, his palms were still sweating, and he was pretty sure he'd forgotten how to breathe properly.
But he didn't care.
Because you were kissing him, and it felt like every wish he'd been too afraid to voice, every want he'd kept locked away, every moment of hesitation finally made worthwhile.
Your lips were soft and warm, and you tasted faintly of the hot chocolate you'd had earlier. The kiss was unhurried, gentle, like you had all the time in the world. Like this moment could stretch on forever and neither of you would complain.
When you finally pulled back, not far, just enough to breathe, your foreheads stayed pressed together. Your eyes were still closed, lips curved in a smile, and Taesan committed the image to memory with desperate intensity.
"Was that okay?" you whispered.
He wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell you that "okay" didn't even begin to cover it.
"Yeah," he managed, voice wrecked. "That was—yeah."
You opened your eyes, and they were bright with happiness, with relief, with affection so clear it made his chest ache.
"Good," you said simply. Then, with a teasing lilt, "Merry Christmas, Taesan."
He couldn't help it—he laughed. Quiet, breathless, disbelieving.
"It's not Christmas yet."
"Close enough."
And then you were kissing him again—no hesitation this time, no space left for doubt. The careful edges of the moment blurred, and he stopped caring about technicalities.
He stopped caring about the crowds in the mall, the noise of holiday music, the pressure of gift-giving. Stopped caring about his fears, insecurities and all the reasons he'd convinced himself this would go wrong.
Because you were here, held securely in his arms, kissing him with the quiet reverence reserved for what is cherished. Like this moment had been waiting for you both all along, patient and inevitable.
When you broke apart for the second time, you didn't step away. Instead, you tucked yourself against his chest, arms wrapping around his waist, and he held you close, chin resting on top of your head.
"So," you said, voice muffled against his coat. "Did you get what you wanted for Christmas?"
He thought about it, the weeks of wanting, the fear of asking, the relief of finally having this. "Yeah," he murmured into your hair. "I did."
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes sparkling. "Good. Because I was running out of gift ideas."
He laughed and you grinned, clearly pleased with yourself.
"Come on," you said, taking his hand again. "Let's get out of here. We can grab dinner somewhere quiet."
"Okay."
You started walking, pulling him along, and Taesan followed without hesitation.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
Later, when you were walking home through snow-dusted streets, your head resting against his shoulder and his arm wrapped securely around you, Taesan realized he didn't hate Christmas anymore.
He didn't hate the lights, the crowds, the music that played on repeat in every store.
Because now, Christmas meant you.
It meant your laugh, your smile, your hand in his. It meant mistletoe in mall hallways and first kisses. It meant the warmth of your body pressed against his side, the comfortable silence between you, the promise of more moments like this to come.
It meant being brave enough to want things, and learning that sometimes the best gifts were the ones you couldn't wrap.
"Hey," you said suddenly, voice drowsy and content. "What are you thinking about?"
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, soft and unthinking.
"Nothing important."
"Liar."
He smiled. "I'm thinking that this was a good day."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You hummed in agreement, snuggling closer. "Best Christmas shopping trip ever."
He couldn't argue with that.
When you reached your apartment, you turned to face him at the door, and this time there was no hesitation. No wondering if he should, no fear of moving too fast.
He just leaned down and kissed you again, slow and sweet, and you kissed him back with a smile on your lips.
Santa might not have known what he wanted.
But you already knew.
And you’d given him exactly what he’d been hoping for.
cw boynextdoor x gn!reader ꒱ bf!bnd, established relationship, kissing, suggestive ( if you squint ), slice of life, skinship, not proofread ( sorry not sorry) 1507 wordcount
◜ ᴗ ◝ i was planning on writing nerd!riwoo, but brainfog took over me and i wrote this instead ♡ reblogs and likes are appreciated!
myung jaehyun ♡s cheek kisses
he was originally a sucker for kisses on the lips, but after seeing the smile that you give him every time he kisses you on the cheek, he couldn’t help but fall in love with kissing your cheek. don’t even get him started when you kiss him back, he basically crumbles every time you do. he loves it when the two of you are cuddling and he has his face oh so close to yours, he just can’t help himself and presses a swift kiss on your cheek. ♡
“baby i’m going to the mall,” you giggled, bag in hand as you stood at the front of the door. all jaehyun could do was smile as you looked so cute, he leaned his head against the wall as a little smile creeped up his lips. “you look really pretty,” he cooed, smirking like a dork as he walked towards you. “oh really?” you batted back, trying your best to look coy. “yes, how could i not think so!” he chuckled. “be safe, okay? make sure to call me if you need anything.” he hummed, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. you nodded, turning the doorknob. “love you, jae” you sang, making him practically fall backwards.
park sungho ♡s wrist kisses
sungho likes two things when it comes to physical touch, hand-holding and kissing your wrists. in his words “it’s way less awkward for me to kiss your wrists in public than kissing your lips,” even though it draws more attention than kissing, he wants to be “different”. it’s super cute when the two of you are outside and he clasps your hands in his—trying his hardest to warm your freezing hands, only for him to press his soft lips on your wrist. ♡
you were in the middle of trying out all of the cosmetics you bought from your local drug store, bottles of creams and oils scattered all over your bed. “what are you trying out now?” sungho hummed, curiosity all over his face. “i’m using this handcream, it’s vanilla scented and super smooth. honestly— it was worth it,” you rambled as you rubbed the cream in. sungho paid attention to each word you said as he stood in front of you. “come smell it” you cheered, raising your hand for him to hold. sungho bent his head down a bit to smell it, his eyes locked on yours with a cute smile on. “smells really nice, y’know i should buy it..” he said, holding your hand with such care. “it smells so good” he hums, pressing chaste kisses on your wrist before letting your arm fall down. “good, we can go back there and buy it together.”
lee riwoo ♡s hand kisses
this man is like cornfield levels of corny, so don’t be surprised when he jokes about being a gentleman. at first, he would kiss the back of your hand as a “funny” joke, but little did he know he would actually enjoy kissing your hand. whenever you’d come home he would always kiss your hand with a stupid smile attached to his face, giggling to himself about how silly he was. as no surprise to you, you actually became fond of his little joke, even if it was 1000 days old. ♡
riwoo jumped for joy as you brought groceries home, smiling like a dork as he ran over to hold the bags. “i’m so thankful that you brought food home, i am starving!” he sighed in relief, placing the bags on the counter. “you’re welcome,” you chuckled, sliding your slippers off before walking to the kitchen. “soo, what do you wanna eat? we could honestly eat a snack, and then we can cook later.” you spoke up, hoping that your idea fancied him. “yeah sure, i can wait a few more hours before eating,” he smiled, his hands taking the food out of the bags before putting them away. you nodded. as you walked over to the sink to wash your hands, riwoo grabbed your hand softly, holding your fingers in his hand before kissing your hand. “ohmygod! riwoo, i didn’t wash my hand, do you know how gross that is…” you stared at him in shock, “well… if i get sick, you’ll take care of me, right?” you sighed, you knew damn well you would.
han taesan ♡s top of the head kisses
lets cut to the chase. he is way taller than you, so it’s just so convenient to kiss you on the top of the head. that is the only reason he could come up with. plus, he can do it in public and no one would bat an eye cause he can just rest his head on top of yours after. he just loves how you don’t mind him doing that to you. he likes not feeling super embarrassed after kissing you, and you like how he touches you, so it clearly is a win-win situation. ♡
the two of you stood in the moving subway, holding onto the handle as you awaited your stop. taesan stood behind you, hand resting on your waist, holding you near him. you pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and opened the camera app to use it as your mirror. you stared at your phone as you fixed your shirt’s collar, making sure it popped the way you liked it. as you were busy fixing your outfit, taesan rested his chin on your head, watching you. you didn’t even realize he kissed your head multiple times. it just felt so natural, so you didn’t say anything and let him do it. taesan turned you around and mindlessly fixed your outfit—smoothning it out and helping you with your collar once and for all. “thank you, sannie” you whispered, making him smile. you turned around again and embraced his hand in yours.
kim leehan ♡s thigh kisses
this sounds really shocking, but truly hear me out. leehan likes any kiss in general, he will smother you in thousands of kisses. but something so intimate about kissing your thighs—it drives him wild. it isn’t even inherently sexual either, he just loves it when you let him kiss your thighs as it’s super rare for you to let him do it. he obviously cherishes the moment in his heart. ♡
a random show was playing as filler noise as you laid in your bed with leehan, scrolling through your phone as you wrapped your body around him. you turned your phone off after a bit of usage and placed it on your dresser. you turned to face your boyfriend again and smiled. leehan stared at you, his eyes lazy from sleep trying to take him. “ihan, you’re so cute” you muttered, kissing his nose. he giggled softly before yawning. you squeezed him with all of your strength. “you give me such bad cuteness aggression, what is your secret” you hummed, tracing your finger down his chest. “i’m not sure,” he whispered. you continued to squeeze him, the both of your bodies moving around in the bed. you finally let go after a bit and your leg was over his neck. “you’re crushing me with your leggg” he whined, moving you closer to him, making your thigh rest over his face. “and this isn’t crushing you?” you scoffed jokingly, shaking your head as a smug smile rested on his lips. without a word, a kiss landed on the back of your thigh, making you giggle. “do it again,” you laughed, and he complied, kissing you over and over again.
kim woonhak ♡s lip kisses
he’s new to relationships and very inexperienced when it comes to those kind of things. so, to keep it simple in his mind he just sticks to kissing your lips. besides, his lips are so kissable. who wouldn’t kiss him!? it could be cute pecks to making out with him, it doesn’t matter to him. as long as you kissed him he doesn’t care about anything else in the world. ♡
you sat on the bleachers as you watched woonhak play basketball, eyes glued onto him as he ran across the court, chasing the ball and trying his hardest to steal it from his opponent. you videoed him on your phone and tried your hardest to capture all the good moments of the match. as it reached the final minutes of the game and his team winning, you knew it was going to be alright. in a flash, woonhak stole the ball from the guy and ran to their net, “YES WOONHAK RUN!!!!!” you screamed, standing up and shouting at him to shoot. in no one’s surprise he shoots and scores, ending the game and winning for the team. you ran down the bleachers and without a doubt, woonhak ran over to you and hugged you, kissing you and squeezing your body with his. “i’m so freaking happy for you!” you cheered, making him smile like a dork. you kissed him once again and hugged him.
