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i lowkey hate how people only write smut for kang-soo and ignore how much he actually went through in yadang….so here’s an angst piece. i hope you enjoy!
summary: you wish kang-soo was around more often.
warnings: angst (happy ending), feelings of loneliness, reader may come off as a little selfish, mentions of cigarettes, arguing
word count: 1.1k
the apartment was quiet.
a quietness you had gotten used to, of course, given that kang-soo was almost always out of the house nowadays because of his new work as a yadang.
you understood his situation, really you did, but that didn’t stop you from missing him and wishing he was home any less. you weren’t resentful, really, but sometimes you couldn’t help but be a little angry at your circumstances.
the sound of the front door opening rouses you out of your thoughts.
he was home?
you rush to set down your book and get off the couch to see him, stopping as he walks in the door looking completely beaten down.
“hi,” he greets lowly, brushing past you to get to the kitchen and get a glass of water.
you stand rooted to your spot, frankly baffled at how he essentially ignored you. it had been nearly a week since he’d last been home, no doubt crashing at chang-rak’s place or some shitty motel while he was away.
“is that it? hi?” your voice comes out a little harsher than you mean it to, and for a second you feel a twinge of regret, but it quickly fades. it’s kang-soo’s almost flippant behavior that makes you realize just how angry you are with not only the situation, but him. sure, he had to be out of the house often, but couldn’t he show a little more affection? didn’t he realize how much his absence was affecting you? how much you worried about him and his well-being?
or was he choosing to ignore it?
you see his posture stiffen a little bit at the tone of your voice, before slowly turning to face you. his face is tired, the purple and slightly yellow remains of a bruise marring his cheekbone and making him look even more weary.
“are you really going to do this right now?” his voice is sharp. a muscle in his jaw jumps slightly. “are you really going to be like this now?”
his words make you even angrier. how dare he act like you were some nuisance, like you were a child, when all you wanted was for him to be okay and safe? when all you wanted was the love of your life home with you?
“what do you mean, be like this? be like what?” you move closer to kang-soo, standing in front of him in the kitchen as you cross your arms over your chest.
the sound of the glass of water hitting the kitchen island as kang-soo sets it down a little too hard makes you jolt a bit, but it doesn’t disarm you. if anything it makes you feel worse.
you go to open your mouth in a retort, but kang-soo cuts you off, his voice sharp.
“difficult. you’re always difficult when i come home.”
the words take the breath from your chest, the anger from your heart.
difficult.
that’s what you were. difficult.
and the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong either. now that you think about it, you were difficult when he came back home. always chastising, always nagging, telling him to be more careful when out, telling him to stop smoking all those cigarettes.
you just weren’t expecting him to say it to your face.
when you look up at kang-soo, his lips are pressed into a tight line, fingers tapping the counter rapidly.
“y-you’re just so annoying sometimes.” he stutters out, grabbing the glass of water he’d poured and taking a sip.
your heart sinks in your chest at hearing his stutter come out; that was an indicator of him being really stressed.
and to call you annoying? that comment stings more than you’d like it to admit.
kang-soo could be mean if he wanted to be, but he was normally always softer with you; you had that effect on him.
so his words cut you more than they should’ve.
you turn your head quickly out of his view so he can’t see the tears that pool in your eyes. but it’s too late. he’s seen.
you hear kang-soo’s soft sigh, and then the sound of the glass he had being set down on the counter.
“baby,” he starts, voice softer now that you’re crying. “i’m not trying to be mean. you know that, right?”
you nod, still not turning to look at him. you kick yourself mentally for being a coward.
“i just….” kang-soo trails off a bit, thinking.
“i’ve been going through a lot lately. and i don’t mean to bring that home or take it out on you. i k-know you miss me and worry about me, i miss you too when i’m out.”
he sighs. “but when i come home it’s just….i, i can’t ever really get away from it all. because you start fussing about e-everything.”
you turn your head a little to face him, but you don’t look at him yet.
“i…i’m sorry, kang-soo.” your voice is shaky despite your attempt to keep it even.
“i’m sorry.” tears track down your face. how could you have been so selfish? how could you not have seen how battered he was?
his hand, warm but rough against your face, turns your head to look at him. wipes your tears softly. pulls you closer to press a kiss to your forehead.
“don’t cry, baby….” he sighs again, but not out of exasperation. he hates it when you cry. it undoes him completely. and even more so if it was something he did to make you cry.
kang-soo smooths your hair down repeatedly with his hand, a gesture meant to soothe.
“i’m not mad at you. i was just frustrated, okay?”
you nod, still unable to fully meet his eyes. shame burns hot in your chest.
i know you’re only worried about me, sweetheart.”
you nod again, faster this time, trying to hold the rest of your tears in. it doesn’t work. you hide your face against his chest and let out a sob that makes his heart twist.
“i’m sorry,” it’s all you can say as you cling to him, still being careful of any injuries he might have under his clothes.
kang-soo pulls you a little closer, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other remains in your hair.
the two of you stay like that for a while.
“i love you.” his voice is soft in your ear, arm squeezing you to him a little tighter.
your eyes water at that. you know kang-soo loves you, of course you do.
but to hear him say it, in the flesh and not over the phone, is different.
you look forward to the days where he can say it in person every time.
synopsis : In a cold, arranged marriage, a cheerful wife longs for affection. When her husband discovers her romance stories, he awkwardly begins learning how to love—slowly turning their relationship into something real.
genre : slice of life, mafia au, angst, slow-burn, comfort, fluff, little comedy
warnings : none
author’s note : im on holiday rn so ill be posting more hehe 😝
word count : 1.7k
The first thing you learned about your husband was that he didn’t smile.
Not at the wedding. Not during the vows.
Not even when the officiant tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about “till death do you part” sounding a little too literal considering his line of work.
Kang Yeosang had simply stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, hands steady, expression unreadable—like he wasn’t marrying you, but signing a contract.
Which, to be fair, he kind of was.
You weren’t naive.
You knew exactly what this marriage was: a strategic alliance between your family and his.
Stability. Protection. Power consolidation.
All the very romantic things that made mafia deals go smoothly.
What you didn’t expect… was how quiet he would be. Not cold in the dramatic, cruel way.
Just… distant.
Like he existed slightly outside of your world.
He spoke when necessary. Ate with precision. Moved like someone always calculating three steps ahead.
Even at home, where most people would relax, Yeosang remained composed—back straight, voice low, emotions tucked away behind a wall you couldn’t even see the edges of.
At first, you tried.
“Do you like tea or coffee?” you had asked on the third morning after moving in.
“Either.”
“…Okay, but which do you prefer?”
A pause.
“Tea.”
You beamed. “Great! I’ll remember that.”
He nodded once. That was it.
No “thank you.” No follow-up.
Just… Yeosang.
You refused to let that discourage you.
If he was a wall, you’d be ivy.
You talked about everything.
Your day. The neighbor’s weird cat. A random documentary you watched. A joke you found funny.
He listened, always. That was the strange part.
He never interrupted, never dismissed you, never told you to stop talking. He just… didn’t respond much.
Still, you noticed things.
Like how his gaze would linger just a fraction longer when you laughed.
Or how he’d subtly adjust the air conditioning because you once mentioned you got cold easily.
Or how your favorite snacks would magically appear in the pantry after you offhandedly said you liked them.
He didn’t show his affection with his words.
He… executed it.
Quietly. Efficiently.
Like everything else he did.
You shared a room.
A large one, elegant and impersonal at first, until you filled it with small touches—books on the nightstand, soft blankets, a ridiculous amount of pillows Yeosang never complained about.
The bed, however, remained a clear line of demarcation.
You on one side. Him on the other.
He never crossed it. Not even in his sleep. Not even once.
It wasn’t rejection, exactly. It just… felt like distance.
And sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and Yeosang’s breathing was steady beside you, you’d stare at the ceiling and wonder—
Does he even like me?
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
If there was one thing you didn’t share with him, it was your stash.
Hidden carefully in the bottom drawer of your desk, beneath neatly folded scarves and old notebooks, was your treasure trove:
Romance novels. Fanfiction printouts.
Dog-eared pages, highlighted lines, sticky notes marking your favorite scenes.
Soft love. Slow burns. Confessions whispered in the dark.
The kind of affection your marriage didn’t quite have.
It wasn’t that you expected Yeosang to suddenly turn into a dramatic romantic lead.
But sometimes—
Okay, a lot of times—
you wished he’d just… reach for you.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
It happened on a completely normal afternoon.
Which, in hindsight, was exactly how life liked to ruin you.
You had left in a hurry, rushing out to meet a friend, completely forgetting that you’d left your drawer slightly open.
And Yeosang… had come home early.
He wasn’t looking for anything in particular.
Just a document he thought might be on your desk.
He noticed the drawer because it wasn’t perfectly aligned.
And Yeosang was, unfortunately, a man who noticed everything.
So he opened it.
And found…books. A lot of books.
He frowned slightly, picking one up. The cover was… pink.
Suspiciously pink.
He flipped it open.
Read a line. Paused. Read another.
His expression didn’t change much. But his ears turned slightly red.
“His fingers traced her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her skin—”
Yeosang closed the book.
Very calmly. Placed it back.
Opened another one.
“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.”
Pause. Blink.
Yeosang sat down.
And, for reasons even he couldn’t quite explain…kept reading.
You didn’t think anything was wrong when you walked in.
“Yeosang, I’m back!” you called cheerfully, slipping off your shoes.
No response. That wasn’t unusual.
You wandered into the bedroom—and froze.
Because your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Holding one of your books.
Your brain stopped functioning.
“…”
“…”
He looked up. You looked at him.
The book.
Him.
The book.
Him.
“I can explain,” you blurted.
“Explain what,” he asked calmly, holding up the book, “this?”
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“It’s—uh—it’s research.”
“Research.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“…life.”
A pause.
Then—
“…I see.”
He looked back at the page and continued reading.
You stood there. Processing.
“…Wait.”
You stepped closer.
“You’re just going to keep reading it?”
“I was in the middle of a chapter.”
“That’s not the point!”
He glanced at you.
“Then what is?”
Your face burned.
“That’s private!”
“I didn’t know that,” he said, tone even. “It was not labeled.”
“You don’t need a label, it’s obvious—!”
Another pause.
He closed the book gently. Looked at you.
“…Do you like this kind of thing?”
Your soul left your body.
“Why are you asking that?” you said weakly.
“You read a lot of it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!”
“It usually does.”
“That’s not—” you stopped. “Okay, yes, I like it, but that’s not the point!”
“What is the point?”
“The point is that you weren’t supposed to see it!”
“Why.”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“Why.”
“Because it just is!”
Yeosang studied you. Carefully.
“…It is about affection,” he said.
You froze.
“…What?”
“These stories,” he continued, flipping the book slightly, “they focus heavily on emotional and physical intimacy.”
You covered your face.
“I know what they’re about, Yeosang.”
“Do you want that?”
Your hands dropped. The room went quiet.
He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t even embarrassed.
He was just… asking.
Direct. Honest.
Like he always did.
And suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.
“…I mean,” you started, quieter now, “I don’t expect… all that dramatic stuff.”
He waited.
“I just…” you hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me.”
Silence.
“I do,” he said.
You blinked.
“…You do?”
“Yes.”
“…Oh.”
That was… not what you expected.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Something shifted after that.
Not dramatically. Not overnight.
But… noticeably. It started small.
One evening, you were reading on the couch when he sat beside you.
Closer than usual. Not touching.
Just… close.
You noticed. Said nothing.
Then—
His hand moved.
Slowly. Carefully.
And rested next to yours.
Not holding. Not quite touching.
Just… there.
You stared at it. Then at him.
He was looking straight ahead, completely composed.
But his fingers… twitched slightly. Like he wasn’t used to this either.
You smiled. And gently placed your hand over his.
He froze.
But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t react.
Just… stayed.
But his grip tightened. Just a little.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Yeosang approached affection like he approached everything else:
Methodically.
Which led to… some very interesting moments.
“You look… acceptable.”
“Acceptable???”
He paused.
“…Good.”
You burst out laughing. He looked mildly offended.
Another time, you were in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged you.
From behind. Stiffly.
Like he had read instructions but didn’t quite understand them.
You nearly dropped the spoon.
“…Yeosang?”
“…Yes.”
“…Are you okay?”
“I am attempting something.”
“…I can tell.”
Pause.
“…Is it working?”
You turned in his arms, smiling.
“Yeah. It is.”
The third time, you came home one day to find candles.
Everywhere. Way too many candles.
“Yeosang—why does it look like a ritual in here?”
“I read that this creates atmosphere.”
“…For what?”
He hesitated.
“…Romance.”
You stared at him.
Then laughed so hard you had to sit down.
He looked deeply confused.
Despite the awkwardness, the stiffness, the occasional complete misunderstanding of fictional tropes—
He was trying. For you.
And that mattered more than anything.
But the real moment—
The one that stayed with you came quietly. Like everything important did with him.
It was late.
You were half-asleep, curled up on your side of the bed.
When you felt it.
A shift. Warmth. Weight.
You blinked your eyes open.
And realized—
Yeosang had moved.
Closer. Not all the way.
But enough that his arm rested lightly over your waist.
Careful. Hesitant.
Like he was giving you the chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
Instead, you leaned back slightly. Into him.
He stiffened. But then relaxed.
And that meant a lot.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Yeosang didn’t become a completely different person.
He didn’t start making grand declarations or dramatic confessions.
But you started noticing more. A lot more.
The way he always made sure you ate. The way he’d stand just a little closer in public.
The way his hand would find yours without thinking.
The way he remembered everything you said.
Even the smallest things. Especially the smallest things.
And sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking… you’d catch it.
A soft expression. A quiet fondness.
Something warm.
Something yours.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
One night, you found something unexpected.
On your pillow. A book.
One of yours.
With… sticky notes. You picked it up slowly.
Opened it.
And saw annotations.
“This is unrealistic.”
“This is inefficient communication.”
“…This is acceptable.”
You laughed. Then flipped to the last page.
Where a single note waited.
“I am still learning. Be patient.”
Your chest tightened.
Soft. Full. Overwhelming.
You looked up.
And there he was. Standing by the door.
Watching you.
“You wrote this?” you asked.
“Yes.”
You smiled. Walked over.
“And what if I said you’re doing really well?”
He paused.
Then, very gently, he reached out.
Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“…That would be… good.”
“Yeosang?”
“Yes.”
“…Do you love me?”
A rare question.
Direct. Vulnerable.
He didn’t answer immediately.
You waited.
Then—
he stepped closer.
Rested his forehead lightly against yours.
And said, quietly:
“I would not be doing all of this… if I didn’t.”
Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not straight out of your books.
But somehow better.
Because it was him.
And as his hand found yours—steady now, no hesitation— you realized something.
Maybe your story wasn’t like the ones you read. Maybe it didn’t have grand speeches or perfect moments.
who's ur fav of ateez?? im a hwa girlie through and through (i too am a silly little yapper with nerdy interests tho i dont have his insane face card 😔😔)
me and my son at dinner :3 isn't he adorable
hiiiiiiiiii
i love all of them omg……huge topaz girl tho! i don’t have a picture but i have wooyonyang and jjoongrami on my bag!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
