#jun svt

jeonghan: the atmosphere was warm, you were spending time with each other and enjoying each other's presence on the couch. in fact, he enjoyed spending quality time with you so much that he couldn't help but to lean closer to kiss you—well, not until he felt the cold surface of your palm..

he'd raise his brows at the audacity, then he would just pull away from you, leaving you on the couch. fine. two can play at that game. he won't even pull your wrist away, much less pout at you for doing that. he'd just ignore you until you beg him for a kiss.

joshua: in the midst of sharing sincere, loving words with each other, joshua couldn't help but to stare at your lips to the point he subconsciously leaned in closer to kiss you—only for you to stop him with your hand. he'd pull away, hands still on your shoulders as he stared at you wide-eyed (you know what expression i'm talking about, lol).

the audacity, he thought. he ended up just leaving a kiss on your knuckles. what? you want one on the lips? sorry, but he's never giving you one—smiling to himself as you whined.

junhui: he thought you were just so pretty—sitting in front of the vanity as you fixed your hair—getting ready for your date tonight. he approached you closer from behind, hands on your shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. that is, before you stopped him with your hand. he immediately crooked his brows.

excuse me? why would you stop him like that? jun didn't know why, but he immediately apologized awkwardly as he tried to think of whatever he did wrong for you to do that. you only laughed before finally giving him the kiss he wanted.

hoshi: well, good luck with this man. waking up with hoshi always consisted of him leaning closer to you, whispering sweet words like how pretty you look today (despite just waking up a few minutes ago), and how much he wished he could look at your face every second of the day. then, he'd close the gap with a kiss against your lips. this time, however, you covered his lips with your hand.

he's shocked, offended, and gasping dramatically as he pulled away. he immediately hits you with barrages of questions—do you not love him anymore? have you found someone else? was he that bad at kissing you? does his breath smell right now?!

he was asking so many questions that you'd have to shut him up with a kiss, which just made him all giggly. now you'd have to endure him until he's kissing you senseless.

wonwoo: he spends his time playing games at home while you usually lounge on the bed, watching him play. but this time, you decided to surprise him by giving him his favorite meal you cooked yourself, placing it carefully beside his keyboard. he broke into a smile in the middle of fighting the enemy, before making his character go into a secluded corner so he could go AFK and kiss you as a form of gratitude. but then you placed your hand on his lips—catching him off guard.

why did you even do that? his lips would turn into a small frown before he pulls you in by your waist, making you almost stumble into his lap. he won't even say anything—he'd just stare at you with that same, frowning look before you finally gave in out of guilt. is this what people call guilt-tripping?

woozi: really, he's in his element the moment he sat down on that swivel chair—fingers immediately set on the mouse as he checked the tracks he had been working on for the past few days. he hummed to the tune of music playing in the background before his lips quirked up slightly into a smile at the sight of you entering the studio. it's not new for you to approach him during work—asking him what he was working on as you circled your arms around his neck, listening to him talking about his songs.

he'd push his chair back just slightly, tilting his head back to kiss you. but then you placed a hand on his lips, to which he raised a brow at that. why did you even do that? he won't stop asking why until you gave him a reason. he'd just sigh, asking you what was the point of that. yet he couldn't help but to feel a little disappointed.

you laughed at the change in tone before hugging him tighter and leaning down to kiss him. suddenly, he dodged your kiss—giving you a taste of your own medicine. not so funny now, huh?

dokyeom: poor guy. after coming home from an exhausting but fun trip with you, all he wanted was to lay down on your bed while keeping you close—not caring about the messy state of your unpacked suitcases. he pulled you in closer once he felt your fingers gently threading through his hair, tilting his head up so he would be able to land a soft kiss to your lips. that is until you covered his lips with your hand—earning a surprised hum from him.

frankly speaking, he felt a little disappointed by the gesture. so, instead of being stubborn and leaning in for a kiss, he decided to lower his head with a small smile. you frowned, finally lifting up his head so you would be able to pepper his face with kisses. you would never do this prank again.

mingyu: it's almost embarrassing how quickly his smile turned into a pout the moment your hand landed on his lips. it's unfair, he thought. he had to endure practicing extra today, only to come home being denied his kiss? what is this, hell? he would rather go back to practice again if you keep doing that.

you only laughed at his dramatic reaction, finally giving him a soft kiss before pulling away with an apology. he didn't respond much—opting to pull you into another kiss. to make up for the teasing earlier, he said.

minghao: for some reason, minghao woke up early in the morning to go for a morning jog with you. you questioned what the occasion was, but he said that he just felt like it, and that it would be healthy for the body anyway. after an hour of jogging, you finally returned home all sweaty and tired. instead of immediately washing up, however, you decided to lay down on the couch for a few minutes to cool down. it's better to shower when your body has cooled down anyway, he said.

though, minghao couldn't stop staring at you as you rambled on about what you saw at the jog earlier—like the cats on the sidewalk, that one cafe you've been wanting to visit, and.. wait, what did you talk about? because minghao couldn't resist kissing you.

you stopped him midway, putting your hand on his lips. he raised his brows before rolling his eyes, finally standing up from the couch to shower. he didn't care that you whined for him to come back—he's never kissing you again.

seungkwan: the moment you walked through the door with a suspiciously wide smile on your face, was the moment seungkwan realized you probably had something planned. he tensed up—gripping the mic tighter than intended as he stared at your mischievous expression. why were you even trying to do something sinister while he was doing karaoke in his free time?! after an unnecessarily long silence, he decided it would be best to just ignore you. it turns out that you weren't even planning on doing anything—only sitting down on the couch to admire him from behind.

once he finished his much needed karaoke session after so much stress, he sat with you on the couch, suddenly leaning in for a kiss as a way to show how much he missed you. but then, suddenly, you placed your hand on his lips, which caught him off guard. his eyes went wide, brows furrowed, and he looked like he immediately wanted to explode into a series of whys dramatically—before suddenly laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

he ended up prying your hand away, leaning in closer to give the once denied kiss as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

vernon: it was never easy for you to pull a prank on him. it wasn't like he'd immediately notice what you were trying to do, it was more so that he wouldn't react much—so the efforts would be done in vain. however, after scrolling through your phone for what felt like an hour, you found the perfect prank for him.

as he walked through your shared bedroom with his phone in hand—his eyes immediately set on you before he laid down next to you, one hand wrapping around your waist loosely while the other on his phone. you thought of many ways to make him want to kiss you, and you decided that you'd just be the one to lean in first. he noticed your face inching closer to him, so he turned his head sideways, trying to give you a soft kiss.

only for you to pull away slightly while covering his lips. you blinked a few times, trying to gauge his reaction. but the more you stared at him, the more he blinked back at you, confused as to what you were doing. well, there are many other ways to prank him anyway.

dino: midnight rides with him were always so fun. it was a way for the two of you to unwind, going out without coming home drained, and just spending time with each other in general. he'd sing and drive on the driver's seat, while you'd sit on the passenger's seat, staring at the rearview mirror while fixing your look. he couldn't help but to stare at how effortlessly pretty you were—and since the traffic lights were showing red, he decided to pull you in and give you a kiss.

well, he tried, at least. it was until he felt your palm against his lips that he opened his eyes—wide in disbelief. he'd cover his mouth, gasping dramatically as if he just experienced the top ten worst things on earth, and this is number one on the list. you giggled at his reaction, finally pulling him back in by his collar to kiss him on his lips. by the time he pulled away, the cars behind him were already honking.

-

“You’re the best present I could receive this year, Pretty.”

Jun says it softly while his fingers part your puffy, wet folds apart, giving him the best view of your pretty pussy, drooling in need for him. He’s got you face down, ass up, in your shared bed, clutching to his pillow as he spreads your legs farther apart.

You can feel him kneeling behind you, you don’t have to look over your shoulders to know his eyes are dark, hooded, swirling with love as his fingers drag through your gooey folds, collecting your sweet slick and rubbing it into your sensitive clit.

You cry out, your teeth clamping down onto the pillow you hold to you, your thighs twitching as he draws messy hearts onto the bundle of nerves. You can feel the heat pool in your stomach and Jun’s other hand press on your lower back to make you arch beautifully. “Does that feel good, my love?”

You whine, high-pitched and needy, but nod your head pathetically. Your hips move on their own, rocking back to meet his fingers when he finally slips two of his thick fingers into your wet channel. “Feels good - so good, mmph!” Your words slur, your eyelashes fluttering when he curls his digits deep inside. The pads of his fingertips drag along your sweet spot and you keen loudly.

Jun knows you like he knows the back of his hand. He knows all your sweet spots, all the buttons to press to get you drooling from both ends. He loved to make a mess out of you. Get your pretty head empty of any thoughts that weren’t him, and how good he made you feel.

When he feeds the first couple of inches of his thick cock past your slobbering entrance, an obscene squelch of your pussy resonates in the bedroom. “That’s it, always so wet and warm for me-” his fingers twirl in your hair, pulling it to lift your head up from the pillow you cried into.

He uses his grip in your hair to pull you back, to meet his thrust, and bottom out. And when he’s filled you to the hilt, balls deep, his tip kissing your cervix in greeting? You cum.

Your orgasm flashes through your hot and fast. Your vision whitens, your body shaking as you gush on his cock, soaking him with your sweet juices.

By this point, you’ve orgasmed twice now. Once on his fingers, and now on his cock. Your body hums in satisfaction, your walls throbbing around his length, milking him, but he’s only getting started.

He’s still hard, stretching you to your limit, letting you fuck yourself back onto him as your orgasm peaks and ebbs. Each time you drag your glossy cunt up, he can see the light sheen of your arousal coating his shaft, a creamy ring forming around his base when you stuff yourself full again.

This is how he likes it.

When you go pliant, your thighs quivering in the aftershocks, he takes control again.

Your face smushes into the pillow covered in your drool and tears, and Jun lets you feel every mouth-watering inch slip from your pretty pussy until he’s slamming back in.

He fucks you deep and slow, murmuring about how much he loves you. How good you feel wrapped around him. How he wishes he could keep you like this, dumb off his cock.

He bets he can get you to cum at least two more times before he stuffs you full.

As always, comments are encouraging, and any interactions are greatly appreciated!

my bts mstrlst - svt mstrlst

Jun sniffed back a laugh, his shoulders shaking.

“Nooo,” he drawled dramatically, pretending to be offended. “It’s a three-colored cat. There’s no such thing as an ugly-color cat.”

Anya tilted her head — her usual thinking pose — lips pursed, eyes narrowed. Then she released a long, exaggerated sigh. “Alright. What color cat?”

“Three-colored cat,” Jun repeated, smiling as he shifted her higher on his hip.

“Oh!” Anya perked up instantly, kicking her legs in excitement. “It has orange! And black! And lots of white! Cute!”

Her joy burst out of her like sunlight — warm, bright, and impossible to contain. She wriggled in his arms as if ready to launch straight toward the kitten, and Jun tightened his hold with a soft grin, laughter slipping out before he could stop it.

“Can we bring it home, please?” she pleaded. “I’ll take care of it. Promise.” Her eyes grew round and glossy — the exact weapon she used whenever she wanted something. A tiny pout trembled at the corners of her mouth, just enough to make Jun’s heart clench in the helpless way only fathers understood.

“We need Mama’s permission for that,” he said gently, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. His tone carried that soft responsibility — the kind meant to cushion disappointment without crushing hope.

Anya froze. Her pout deepened. “But Baba…”

“That’s the rule,” he reminded her, tapping the tip of her nose. “Big decisions need Mama’s yes.”

She slumped against his shoulder with dramatic defeat, letting out a sigh far too heavy for a four-year-old.

“Mama always says no…”

Jun smiled — quiet, helpless — because she wasn’t entirely wrong. “Well,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss her hair, “maybe she’ll say yes this time.”

Anya peeked up, hope flickering back into her eyes like a small spark relighting. “If I say ‘please’?”

“If you say please,” Jun whispered, “and… maybe if the kitty likes you back.”

As if summoned, the tricolor kitten let out a soft meow and turned its head toward them, its eyes curious and unafraid.

Anya’s mouth fell open in wonder. “Baba,” she whispered urgently, tugging at his shirt, “I think it likes me.”

She hesitated — a tiny, worried crease forming between her brows. “But what if Mama still says no?”

Jun shifted her closer, lowering his voice to something tender and steady. “I’ll find a way, baby,” he promised. “Anything for you.”

*

“No…”

You stared at the bathroom light switch like it personally betrayed you. One click. Nothing. Another click. Still darkness.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh and facepalmed. Of course. Of course he did. There was only one man in this house capable of creating chaos with the confidence of a movie villain, your husband, Jun.

First, the jar incident. Every lid tightened to the strength level of “Olympic gold medalist.” You’d nearly dislocated your shoulder trying to open the salt. And of course you had to call him over for help. Which was extra annoying because you two had just argued about the tricolor kitten Anya begged to adopt.

Second, the water spontaneously giving up on life while you were washing dishes. You’d been mid-scrubbing a plate when the faucet sputtered.

Cue you yelling, “Jun, the sink is having a breakdown.”

He “fixed” it and, very conveniently, took over dish duty with suspicious cheerfulness.

And now? The bathroom light. Sabotaged. You flicked the switch again — aggressively this time — just to make sure he heard.

Right on cue, Jun appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom like he’d been waiting backstage for his entrance.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, voice all soft innocence.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, giving him your best “I am onto you” stare.

“Why? What happened?” he said, mirroring your posture — leaning back on the wall, arms crossed, smile growing way too fast for someone who was supposedly concerned.

“Stop it,” you said flatly. “You know I don’t like cats anymore.”

Jun lifted his eyebrows as if you just accused him of murder.

“We’re done talking about the cat, babe,” he declared, hand on his chest like a man reciting wedding vows. “You said it was final. No cats. And I respect that.”

He said it so sweetly you almost believed him. Almost. Except for the tiny smug curl at the corner of his mouth.

You exhaled sharply and ran your fingers through your hair. “Then explain this,” you gestured wildly. “The jars. The water. And now—”

You flicked the switch again like you were summoning a ghost. “The light won’t even turn on.”

Jun walked toward you, humming thoughtfully, inspecting the light with all the seriousness of a man checking a potato.

“I’ll fix it, babe,” he said, patting your shoulder. “No need to get all worked up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, I am worked up. I’m fully worked. I’m premium worked.”

Jun bit back a laugh — badly. “Why would I sabotage the house?” he asked, as if the answer wasn’t four years old, chubby-cheeked, and currently plotting with crayons in the living room.

You crossed your arms tighter. “Because you and your daughter want a cat.”

Jun pressed his lips together. “Allegedly,” he corrected.

You threw your hands up. “Oh my God.”

He leaned closer, smiling like you just declared war. “Babe,” he whispered dramatically, “this is all a coincidence.” You stared at him. Another flick. Dark.

He stared back. “…Coincidence?” you repeated.

Jun nodded, eyes sparkling. “A very adorable coincidence.”

Jun tightened the last screw on the light fixture, stepped back with a flourish, and flicked the switch. The bathroom lit up instantly. He turned to you with both hands raised like he’d just completed a magic trick.

“Done. You may do your thing here, your majesty.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard. The kind of stare that usually came right before you chose patience over prison time.

Then you sighed. A deep, soul-drained sigh. “I don’t want to act childish,” you said slowly, “but you’re definitely doing one, Wen Junhui.”

Jun clutched his chest dramatically. “I didn’t do anything, babe…”

“Yes,” you muttered, brushing past him, “and I’m the Queen of England.”

You stepped into the shower, letting the water drown out your irritation. But the whole time, you could practically feel Jun smirking from outside — smug, confident, absolutely certain he’d win.

And annoyingly, he would.

By the time you stepped out, skin warm and hair damp, Jun was sprawled on the bed like he owned every inch of it. One arm behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to show the faint lines of his stomach — he always looked like this right after mischief, relaxed and very, very pleased with himself.

You grabbed your towel tighter. “Jun,” you called.

He hummed, eyes on you instantly.

You exhaled, defeated but strangely lighter. “Bring that cat,” you said. A pause. “Tomorrow.”

*

Anya had been talking nonstop since the moment Jun buckled her into her car seat.

The kitten — tiny, fluffy, and extremely confused — sat in the small carrier Jun had oh-so-mysteriously “already prepared,” right beside her. Every few seconds, a tiny paw poked through the bars, batting at the air.

“Mama, it likes fruit names,” Anya declared with the confidence of a CEO presenting a business proposal.

Jun tried — truly tried — to keep his eyes on the road, but his smile kept growing each time Anya babbled another name.

“Kiwi,” she repeated, leaning forward to stick her face against the carrier. “Do you like Kiwi? Blink if yes.”

The kitten blinked. Anya gasped dramatically. “Baba! It said yes!”

Jun laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “That’s not how blinking works, baby.”

“Yes it is,” she insisted, crossing her arms with a tiny huff. “Cats blink when they like you.”

You turned a little in your seat, raising a brow. “She’s not wrong,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Jun shot you a look — that soft, ridiculously fond look — the one that appeared any time you defended his daughter’s logic.

Anya wasn’t done. “Or Banana!” she chirped, tapping the cage lightly. “Banana is yellow. This cat has orange. Orange is ALMOST yellow. So Banana!”

The kitten meowed once, confused but cooperative.

Jun let out another quiet laugh, the kind that rumbled warmly through the car. “She’s really committed,” he said, glancing at you with a grin. “Kiwi or Banana, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, curving up despite yourself.

“But… isn’t Kiwi Banana gonna be scared to go to the doctor?”

Anya’s voice was small but grave, the kind of seriousness only a four-year-old could summon over a tiny creature sitting in a pet carrier.

They were on the way to the vet, and the kitten — newly christened Kiwi Banana, thanks to Anya’s triumphant declaration of “Three colors, two names, one kitten!” — let out a soft mewl from inside the cage.

Jun glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “You think so, baby?”

“Yes,” she said immediately, clutching her stuffed bunny tighter. “Doctor means needles. And needles means… ouchie.”

She made a little face, scrunching her nose in sympathy toward the kitten.

You turned slightly in your seat. “Anya, the vet is a nice doctor. They help animals feel better so they can grow strong and healthy.”

Anya didn’t look convinced.

“But Baba, what if Kiwi Banana thinks we’re betraying it? We just met! What if it runs away from home and never forgives us and becomes—”

She paused dramatically.

“—a wild forest cat?”

Jun’s laugh slipped out before he could catch it. “A wild forest cat?” he echoed.

“Yes!” she said, pointing one finger into the air like she was explaining a legal clause. “Because if you feel betrayed… you go to forest.”

You pressed your lips together, holding back a laugh.

“Is that how it works?”

“Yes,” she said again, with absolute finality.

Jun shook his head with a smile. “Baby, Kiwi Banana won’t get scared. You know why?”

Anya leaned forward a little. “Why?”

“Because you’re going with it,” Jun said gently. “And Kiwi Banana already likes you.”

The kitten meowed right on cue, as if agreeing.

Anya gasped softly, eyes going wide.

“Baba… it said yes again.”

Jun shot you a look — proud, soft, slightly smug — and your heart dipped, warm, despite your earlier resistance.

You turned back to Anya. “And you can hold its paw while the doctor checks it, okay? That’ll make it feel safe.”

“Mama,” Anya said suddenly, her tone shifting into that quiet, suspicious softness children use right before exposing adult secrets.

“You seem to know a lot about cats.”

“I thought you don’t like cats,” she added, squinting at you like a tiny investigator.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t dislike cats,” you said carefully. “I just… don’t prefer them.”

Anya tilted her head. “But you said vet is nice doctor. And you held Kiwi Banana like he’s a fragile egg. And you said he needs warm towel and quiet place and also you wiped his eye—”

“Okay, okay, detective,” you cut in, holding up a hand. “I know basic things.”

Jun turned his head for a second, the movement small, almost hesitant—like he’d just said something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to.

“Mama used to have… ten cats,” he said quietly.

The words hung there, softer than before, slipping into the air the way old memories tend to resurface—uninvited, but gentle.

You didn’t respond right away.

Your gaze had drifted somewhere past the kitten, past the parking lot, past the afternoon light—somewhere Jun couldn’t follow. Not yet.

Anya, oblivious, perked up. “Ten? Mama, really?”

But Jun wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking at you. The way your fingers tightened slightly on the strap of your bag. The way your breath paused—just a moment.

The way your eyes stayed distant, even though your face tried to arrange itself into something casual. He’d heard the story before—briefly, vaguely. Ten cats. A busy little house. You, smiling in every memory.

You finally blinked, shaking yourself back. “That was… a long time ago,” you murmured, giving a small smile that didn’t sit the way your real smiles usually do.

Jun watched you for another second—really watched—before turning back to Anya.

“Yeah,” he said, gentle. “A long time ago.”

The tone settled over the three of you like a soft breeze—warm, but carrying something else in it. Something unspoken. But for now, he didn’t press.

For now, he just understood.

*

“We’re doing it together…”

“Don’t leave me!”

“Please…”

“Don’t—!”

You shot up with a broken gasp, air clawing its way into your lungs. Your chest heaved, fingers trembling against the sheets as the last echo of the nightmare clung to you like something alive.

Jun stirred immediately. He blinked awake, already reaching for you before he was fully conscious.

“Love?” His voice was soft, rough from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t answer—your breaths came short and sharp, sweat cooling along your temples. He pushed himself upright beside you, worry settling into his features the moment he saw your expression.

“Hey… hey.” Jun cupped the back of your head gently, guiding your forehead to his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a dream.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, as if needing proof that he was real—that he was here.

Jun wrapped an arm around you, firm and grounding, the kind of embrace that held you without trapping you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m right here.”

The room was dark and still, the only sound was your uneven breathing—slowly, slowly softening as his thumb traced steady circles on your arm, coaxing you back into the present.

“Is it the fire again?” Jun asked quietly, once your breathing began to steady.

You hesitated—then gave a small nod.

Jun didn’t press. He simply reached over to the nightstand, fingers closing around the glass of water he always left there for you before bed. Just in case.

“Here,” he murmured.

You took it with slightly trembling hands and brought it to your lips, sipping slowly. The cool water helped—grounding you, pulling you away from the lingering heat of the flames in your dream. Jun watched you with gentle eyes, his hand resting lightly against your back, steady and present.

When you lowered the glass, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“You’re safe, love.”

The dream always came the same way— a fire swallowing your childhood home, flames crawling up the walls faster than your legs could run. And your cats— all ten of them— were trapped inside.

In the dream, you always tried. You always screamed for them. You always reached for the door even when the heat blistered your skin. And just like every time, you always failed.

Only one of them had survived in real life. It had escaped the fire by a miracle— bolting out through the back window just in time. You found it the next day, shaking so hard its small body rattled against your arms.

Life after losing the house was no kinder. You moved from place to place, your one surviving cat clutched to your chest, its terrified eyes mirroring your own. The only difference was that you’d become good at pretending you weren’t scared.

“We’re doing this together,” you used to whisper to it at night.

But even together wasn’t enough. It left you, too— not by choice, but by life’s cruelty. And the wound it carved into you never really healed.

You remembered crying over the tiny grave, hands shaking as you pressed the soil down. “I should’ve given you a home.”

That guilt settled in your bones. And from then on, you weren’t the same. You distanced yourself from cats— from the memories, from the attachment, from the possibility of losing something you loved that deeply again. Any cat was too close to the past. Too close to the fire. Too close to the pain you never let yourself revisit.

You ended up on the living room couch that night, legs curled beneath a blanket, the shadows quiet around you. Sleep wouldn’t come—not after the nightmare, not with your heart still unsteady.

Jun was already fast asleep in the bedroom, worn out from the day. And you— you didn’t want to show him this side of you again. Not tonight.

A tiny meow broke the silence.

You blinked, surprised. Kiwi Banana—somehow—was already padding across the floor, wobbling a little as it hurried toward you. You hadn’t even noticed Anya’s door was open a crack.

Before you could react, the kitten hopped onto the couch and plopped onto your lap, immediately purring. Its tiny paws kneaded at the blanket as it made itself comfortable, then finally rested its head on your thigh with a soft sigh.

A small smile tugged at your lips. The ache in your chest loosened. “You’re just like her,” you whispered. Your old tricolor cat. “Same color… same personality.”

Kiwi Banana answered with a muted little meow— whether in agreement or mild complaint, you couldn’t tell. You let out a tiny chuckle anyway. The fear you’d been carrying—of loving a cat again, of remembering—faded just a little.

“Tell me she’s okay…” you murmured, hand brushing gently over its tiny back. Kiwi Banana cracked one eye open, stared at you, meowed once— and then, in true cat fashion, turned around to present its butt to you before settling down again.

You snorted softly. “Rude,” you whispered, still smiling.

You leaned slowly against the couch’s armrest, your hand resting lightly on the kitten’s side. Kiwi Banana’s breathing grew slow, steady—warm against your leg.

And before you realized it, lulled by the soft purring and the quiet comfort, your eyes drifted shut. Sleep came easier this time.

*

You woke to the soft sound of someone whispering nearby—light, excited, and terribly close to your ear.

“Mama… Mamaaa, look…”

Your eyelids fluttered open, slow and heavy. Morning sunlight was already spilling through the curtains, warm and gold against your skin. The blanket had slipped halfway off, and curled right on top of your stomach was Kiwi Banana, purring like an engine.

Then you saw Anya. She was kneeling beside the couch in her pajama shorts, hair sticking in every direction, eyes wide with pure wonder.

“Mama, you’re soooo cute…” she whispered dramatically, as if she’d stumbled upon a rare forest creature. “Sleeping with Kiwi Banana… like best friends…”

You groaned softly, rubbing your face. Kiwi Banana stretched, tiny paws pressing into your shirt before settling again. “Anya… why are you awake this early?”

Though judging from the light, it wasn’t that early—just earlier than your usual waking time.

She puffed her cheeks. “I woke up and kitty wasn’t in my room! So I followed it. And then—” she pointed at you with all the intensity of a detective revealing a culprit— “I found this.”

You glanced down at the kitten sprawled on you like a warm, furry badge.

“Mama likes Kiwi Banana now?” Anya asked, hope sparkling in her eyes.

The kitten yawned—as if answering for you.

You exhaled, resigned. “…Maybe a little.”

Anya clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. It didn’t work. “BABA!!” she shrieked towards the hallway, “MAMA LOVES KIWI BANANA!!”

From the bedroom came Jun’s sleepy, confused voice, “What—already? It’s morning…”

You covered your face again. Too late. L The whole house already knew.

Kiwi Banana didn’t stay that tiny for long. Months passed, and somehow the kitten who once fit perfectly on your stomach grew into a round, spoiled ball of fur—with a belly that jiggled when it trotted and a face that had perfected the art of guilt-tripping you into extra treats.

Jun swore it wasn’t his fault. You swore it wasn’t yours. Anya didn’t swear anything—she openly blamed both of you.

“Mama, you love Kiwi Banana too much,” she complained one afternoon as the cat waddled proudly across the living room like a royal parade float.

You scooped the chunky creature into your arms anyway. “And what’s wrong with that?”

Kiwi Banana purred, melting into your embrace with the confidence of a cat who knew it was adored.

The fear you once held—the ache of old memories, the guilt, the trauma—had softened over time, replaced by something gentler. Something healing.

Jun wrapped an arm around your shoulders from behind, resting his chin lightly on your head as he watched the cat kneading your shirt with chubby paws.

“Told you,” he murmured with a smile, “you were always a cat person.”

You shot him a look. He kissed your cheek anyway. Kiwi Banana flopped dramatically in your arms, exposing its belly in complete trust.

And for the first time in a long, long while, loving a cat didn’t hurt. It felt like coming home. The home you built now—warm, noisy, messy, full of laughter. Full of Jun, full of Anya.

And full of one very fat, very loved Kiwi Banana.

End.

Footnote:

Grief lingers, but love does, too.

Two years ago, the fire took my home… and all the little lives I loved within it. The guilt clung to me like smoke, staining everything I touched. But my tricolor Simi — my brave girl — survived long enough to show me that even in ruin, love doesn’t burn out so easily.

Fly high, my baby.

I carry you in every quiet morning, every soft memory, every warm place my heart still knows how to hold.

you were wide awake.

you had been so for the past hour: ever since you had listened to that true crime podcast with your boyfriend earlier that evening, you had been on edge the rest of the night. you'd flinch at every noise and tense around every dark corner of your apartment, mind instantly flying to the worst when something happened that you couldn't explain.

jun, on the other hand, had no problems with the podcast—he had probably even enjoyed it more than you had. he was ready to go to sleep after the third episode, already planning to watch more tomorrow night.

could you even make it through tomorrow night?

sleep was eluding you like a mouse does a trap—you lie awake in bed, still with jun's arm slung over your waist as you stare at the wall. the shadows cast shapes, shapes that start to morph into something you're not a fan of, and the sounds outside your bedroom door sound more and more like footsteps.

you flinch especially hard when a creak from the air condition's startup sounds throughout the dark, quiet room, and you hear shuffling from behind you as jun slowly awakens.

"tianxin? are you okay?" jun's voice is groggy as sleep falls away from him; you can feel his body pressed up against yours, and his breath fans your exposed neck as his dangling arm repositions itself on your waist.

"y-yeah. i'm great." you don't sound too convinced, voice shaking as jun stirs a little more. this time, he's pushing your hair from your face, voice sounding with concern as he speaks. "no, you're not. you're tensing against me like crazy."

you try to loosen up, deep breaths doing nothing to calm your uneasy stomach. "sorry, junnie."

"don't be sorry, okay? what's wrong? you can tell me, you know." jun reaches over to turn on the lamp on his nightstand, finally illuminating the once-scary room. everything is in its familiar place, and it brings a little comfort to your heart as you sigh.

jun's waiting for you to speak, already sat up in his bed as he pushes the blankets away from your body. "hey, sit up for me."

you do as he says, turning to face him once you've gotten your racing heart under control. even though the lights are turned on and the room seems a little more welcoming, thoughts of criminal horror stories flood your mind, and you're subconsciously gripping the blanket before jun has to pry your fingers away from the sheets.

"you're all sweaty and nervous and flushed..." jun cups your flushed cheek, dark eyebrows folding in concern as he sighs. "tianxin, tell me what's bothering you."

"it's the..." you start, but your throat seems to close up out of nervousness. what if jun makes fun of you for being scared? would he think you were a baby if you couldn't handle an episode of a true crime podcast?

"i don't want you to make fun of me..." you mumble, folding your arms around yourself as you shyly look away from your boyfriend.

"i would never make fun of you, i promise," jun smiles softly, taking your fisted hands in his. "i want to know what's wrong because i know you're scared, tianxin. of what...i'm not sure. so tell me."

you purse your lips together, heart still threatening to skip a beat at the thought of telling jun the truth.

"please?" jun's defined lips pout in the cutest way possible, breaking down the silly defenses of your heart as you finally give in, heaving a sigh before you speak.

"it's the...the crime podcast we listened to earlier." you say, cheeks already burning up with embarrassment as jun looks at you intently. "hearing the gruesome murders and how the killer was on the run for months before he was caught....it really freaks me out, junnie. i don't like it. and all the sounds in the house...the darkness...it makes it so much worse."

jun's listening to you quietly and intently, eyes glued to yours as you share your secret. as you talk, your heart and mind becomes lighter and lighter, and once you finish speaking, you let out a sigh of relief you didn't even know you were holding in.

"so yeah...can we not listen to anymore podcasts like that?" you shyly propose, and jun pulls you in for a hug, tucking you into his side as he kisses your forehead softly.

"of course, tianxin. we don't have to listen to crime podcasts anymore. thank you for gaining the confidence to tell me." jun smiles softly, tilting your chin up to his as he searches your gaze.

"if you ever feel uncomfortable while we're doing something, let me know immediately. i love you, and i want us to be transparent with each other, no matter what we do, okay?" jun's voice is soft as he speaks, and the apprehension leaves your chest immediately as you nod happily, smile real and genuine for the first time tonight as you yawn seconds later. "okay."

"good. now," jun pauses, brushing your stray hairs away as he pats your pillow. "looks like someone's ready for bed. for real, this time."

you don't even argue when jun lays you down to sleep once more, pulling the blankets over you and kissing you on the neck before whispering a tiny "goodnight". he takes his time sending you to dreamland, stroking your back with his free hand and kissing your head.

once your breathing slows and your body stills, jun smiles in the darkness, offering one more soft kiss to your neck before he tugs you closer to him. he lets his eyes shut too, peace washing over him in waves because you're finally peaceful.

Seungcheol: To me it feels like his leader instincts kicking in like it’s a group comeback 😭 You’re physically drained and can barely push anymore, so Seungcheol will be holding your hand tightly, his voice steadying you: “Just one more, baby, you’ve got this. We’ll meet our little one soon.” On the inside, he’s panicking but doesn’t let it show because he knows you need his strength, "Breathe, babe, breathe!” Wait, should I breathe too?! Once the baby is born, he’s in tears, holding your hand like, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” and kissing your forehead. Then proceeds to take the title of Best Dad very seriously.

Jeonghan: “This is YOUR fault!” you scream at him as another wave of pain hits, and Jeonghan, instead of being offended, just grins cheekily, “I know, I know. But look at me—I’m right here. You’re doing amazing.” He is unfazed and mischievous, even while you're snapping at him but don't get me wrong. He's like, "It’s okay, just a little more!” while secretly panicking and muttering, How does one raise a tiny human? He just doesn't want to look panicked in front of you and scare you. When the baby arrives, he jokes, “Wow, this kid’s already prettier than me. Must’ve gotten it from me.” Yes, he's like that—but in a moment of seriousness, he looks at you with so much love, “You were incredible.”

Joshua: You’re crying softly, scared and overwhelmed, and Joshua immediately cups your face gently, “I know it’s hard, but you’re so strong. You can do this. I’ll be here the whole time.” He's very soft and attentive, the perfect mix of calm and emotional. He never leaves your side, murmuring prayers under his breath. Holds your hand and whispers comforting words the whole time, “You’re amazing, you’ve got this.” When the baby cries for the first time, he literally cries too, “This is the best day of my life.” He lets out a laugh of pure relief and joy as his face says, This is our miracle. He insists on singing the baby a lullaby immediately. Sunday morning rain is falling in form of lullaby

Jun: Wait, I think I need to sit down—oh no, wait, you’re the one doing all the work! Chaotic but sweet, Jun is trying his best to be strong for you, but his emotions are all over the place. You’re gripping his hand tightly, shaking your head, “I can’t do it, Jun. I really can’t!” his heart clenches at your words but he then immediately leans in, his eyes wide but sincere, “You’re already doing it. Look at me. One more push, and we’ll meet our baby.” The sheer trust and love in his gaze give you the last bit of strength you need. After the birth, he’s SO emotional, holding them like the most delicate thing in the world in complete awe with wide eyes, “Wow… they’re so small. Are you sure they’re ours?” He traces a careful finger along the baby’s tiny hand, his eyes softening even more. “They’re perfect… just like you.” His lips press a lingering, grateful kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his eyes shimmering. “I love you. Both of you.”

Hoshi: He's excited and maybe a little too energetic. Freaks out every time you make a noise, “IS IT TIME?!” even if you’re just asking for water. During birth, I feel like, his s/o will be yelling from the pain and accidentally yell at him too lol. “STOP TALKING, SOONYOUNG!” you shout during a particularly painful contraction, and he freezes, wide-eyed. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet—but I’m still here!” When the baby is born, he’s crying harder than you are, clutching your hand, “WE DID IT! I mean, you did it! I’M A PAPA TIGER! Look at our little cub!” while also jumping up and down yelling.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is the reliable rock you need. You’re biting your lip, trying not to scream, and he notices your trembling. He leans closer, his voice soft, “It’s okay to let it out. I’m here for you, always.” He stays by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it to soothe you. Every now and then, he murmurs, “You’re doing so well,” his voice laced with admiration and respect for his beloved. When the baby is finally born, he doesn’t say much at first—just stares in awe, holding them close with a small, amazed smile. After a long pause, he finally whispers, “So this is what pure happiness feels like.” Theb he looks at you, eyes full of love, and promises, “I’ll be the best dad. For both of you.”

Woozi: Stressed but trying not to show it. Internally writing 15 songs about his emotions while saying, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? A new husband?” all while trying his best to keep his emotions in check for your sake but low-key failing. “It hurts so much!” you cry, and Jihoon, though visibly worried and internally panicking, keeps rubbing your back, “I know, love, I know. Just a little more, and it’ll be over. You’re stronger than you think.” Once it’s over, he’s stunned silent, staring at the tiny life in his hands in awe, whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write anything more beautiful than this.” Then he looks at you, his voice soft: “You’re incredible.”

Dokyeom: Your overly enthusiastic cheerleader is trying his best. But when you let out a scream, “AUGH!” Seokmin yelps even louder, “ARE YOU OKAY?!” despite knowing full well that you’re not. He’s gripping your hand so tightly—probably too tightly and almost crying with you. “YOU’RE DOING GREAT. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Then, mid-contraction, he suddenly panics, “Wait, do you hate me right now? I think you do.” You glare at him between deep breaths, and he flinches, “Okay! No talking! Got it!” When the baby is finally here, Seokmin completely loses it, his happy sobs are the loudest in the room. “We did it! Well, mostly you, but we did it!” He’s melting, practically sliding to the floor as he holds the baby, overwhelmed by joy. Someone has to hold him up before he turns into a puddle of emotions.

Mingyu: He’s the definition of chaos with a side of tears. “Why is it taking so long?!” you cry out, exhausted and frustrated, and Mingyu, who has been pacing non-stop—pauses for a second before nervously responding, “I don’t know, but I’m here! We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He’s trying so hard to be helpful, but his clumsy ass is in full force. “Do you need water, baby? A towel? Oh no, I dropped the towel! Wait, where’s the doctor—should I call someone?!” The moment the baby arrives, Mingyu’s emotions explode, he’s full-on sobbing, barely able to form words. “You’re amazing! Our baby is amazing!” He cradles the tiny newborn like the most precious thing in the world, holding on so tight that the nurses have to coax him into letting them check the baby. “No! They’re so tiny! So perfect! I’m NOT letting them go.” spoiler: he doesn't. they have the check the baby from his hold.

Minghao: Zen but emotional deep down. He’s by your side, reminding you to breathe like a yoga instructor, “Inhale, exhale, you’ve got this.” But you are still exhausted and losing focus during labor, “I can’t do it,” you mumble weakly, and Minghao immediately takes your hand, his calm voice grounding you: “Yes, you can. Focus on me. Deep breaths. You’re stronger than you know.” After the baby’s born, he holds them with the gentlest hands, his eyes full of tears. “You did so well,” he whispers, brushing hair out of your sweaty face. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” His face is all smiley with streaks of dry tears down his cheeks as he kisses your nose, “This is the start of a masterpiece. You’re amazing, my love. I love you”

Seungkwan: The most emotional and slightly dramatic of them all. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Am I okay?!” He’s running on pure nerves. The situation escalates quickly when you reach the peak of labor, and it’s similar to Hoshi’s. “STOP TALKING, KWAN!” you snap, breathless from the pain. He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest, “I’m just worried! But okay, okay, I’ll shut up!” He’s jittery, constantly checking on you, the doctors, and the monitors, whispering prayers under his breath. The moment the baby is born, all his anxiety vanishes, replaced by unfiltered joy. He holds the baby, bawling his eyes out, voice shaking as he says, “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Then, looking at you with pure adoration, he sniffles, “I’m going to spoil them so much.”

Vernon: Surprisingly calm but mostly because he’s in shock. You’re gripping the bed rails so hard your knuckles turn white, trying not to scream, and Vernon, who notices how much you’re struggling, leans down, holding your hand. “You’re doing so great,” he says. “We’re so close, babe. Just a little more.” He doesn’t say much else, just keeps his grip firm, standing by your side like an unshakable pillar until you give birth while internally thinking, This is wild. When the baby is born, he stares at them for a long moment before finally saying, “Wow… we made this. That’s crazy.” But then, as he holds the baby, his normally neutral expression softens into something breathtaking. His heart eyes are fully showing— completely smitten, both with the baby and with you.

you shook your head and took a sip from your cup. if it was anyone else you’d start wondering if they even liked you, because comparing you to a rather aggressive cat was not on your top 10 compliments list, nor was it something you’d like to hear on a first date.  

but the boy in front of you was far from “anyone else”.

“you’re feisty,” jun pointed at the black cat, “just like her.” 

before you could think through what you were about to say next, you blurted out, “well, at least now we know who’ll wear the pants in our relationship.” 

it was safe to say that jun looked like an angry tomato for the rest of the date.

hoshi

place: laser tag

what they would do to make you feel special:  if you’d end up on opposite teams, soonyoung would do anything to let your team win (he’d be so proud in thinking he was being sooo sneaky about it) because seeing you happy is so much better than winning (you’re the only exception though, anyone else - the fight is on)

what they would be like taking you out:  this man is too unpredictable to know for sure how he’d act, but generally speaking it could go either two ways: 1 - soonyoung would be filled with so much energy, beaming with happiness and just so much affection for you that you’d have a hard time knowing what he’d even be on about (lovingly), 2 - he’d turn into a stressed little guy that just wouldn’t be able to believe that he’s on a date with you??? you gorgeous creature said yes to go out with him??? no one pinch him, because if it’s still a dream he doesn’t want to wake up. this version of him would be quite quiet, but in a soonyoung way quiet

“stop!” you laughed, quickly looking back to see if hoshi was still running after you. 

and running he was. more like charging at you at full speed, to be honest, with a fake gun in his hand and devilish grin on his face. 

“you’re not going to get away this time!” he yelled back, getting closer to you with each step. and there was no way you’d outrun him, na-ah. 

“it’s not how you play this game,” you said and bursted out in a fit of laughter, as soonyoung wrapped his strong arms around your frame, engulfing you in a sweaty hug. 

“i don’t care,” he giggled, pulling you closer. “the game is over for me anyway, now that i’ve got you”. 

mingaho

place: painting class

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d be the best listener. i know that is the bare minimum, but at the same time the bare minimum is in hell so… yeah. you’ll never meet a better listener than hao, who could sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair, covered in paint and listen to you for ages

what they would be like taking you out: such a gentleman, to the point where you start wondering if it’s not a dream. gentle, funny, kind, understanding, charming - you could go on for forever trying to describe minghao. all of that said, though, hao would honestly be so so nervous, because come one… so many things could go wrong… and he seriously liked you. like really really liked you.

“how the hell did you manage to get your paints to look like that?” you pointed at hao’s palette that was full of pretty colours, unlike yours. unfortunately. 

“hm?” he mumbled and looked over at your station. you could see the smile forming on his gorgeous face, but since he was the textbook definition of a green flag, whatever you want to call it, he quickly composed himself and pointed at the paints in front of him. “just mix this and this.” 

“uh, yeah,” you huffed, “i did the same and mine looks like shit. literally.” 

this time he couldn’t help but laugh. “let me help, yeah?”

dino

place: a board game cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d try his best to play all of your favorite board games, because one thing about chan - he sucks at understanding game rules (seriously, all of his brain cells would be sweating to understand the game). so it’d truly be heartwarming how this precious boy would try so hard to understand what would be going in front of him. 

what they would be like taking you out: stressed. and. nervous. as. fuck. he just doesn’t want to mess it up, okay? chan knows he’s handsome and pretty and funny and charming, BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER!!! all of his rational thinking flies out of the window whenever he’s around you, and “what were you saying, i was too busy staring at your beautiful eyes”. shakes like a leaf the whole time. 

you could clearly see a question mark forming above chan’s head, as you tried explaining the rules for the third time. usually, you’d be quite annoyed at the person for still not getting what you were saying, but he looked so adorable, with his big puppy eyes and all, that you had to stop yourself from cooing out loud. 

“i’m sorry,” chan said, looking down. “i’m just not the best at understanding games.” 

you leaned over the table and put your hand over his. his head whipped up so quickly you wondered whether he didn’t pull a muscle doing that. 

“it’s okay, channie,” you smiled at him. “we can play something else, y’know?” 

he shook his head, and scooted his chair to sit closer to you. “no, no. let’s try again. i promise i’ll get it this time”.