Can you please write Y/N is a oldest daughter and Jun always by her side and help her with everything she need even when she never ask
OPEN ARMS
(Wen Junhui x FemReader)
*Soft angst, comfort, slow romance*
Being the eldest daughter meant a lot of things.
It meant folding clothes while your younger siblings watched cartoons. It meant wiping away your own tears so your mother didn’t have to worry. It meant walking on tiptoe around your father's moods, biting your tongue when you wanted to scream, and carrying burdens in silence because well, someone had to.
It meant growing up too fast.
You never had to be told twice that your role was to hold everything together.
And most days, you did it without thinking juggling school, work, home, helping your siblings with homework, taking care of your parents when they were tired, cooking dinner, managing bills. You did it all, smiled through it, even when your knees buckled under the weight.
But what no one ever seemed to notice… was how tired you really were.
Except for him.
Wen Junhui.
He wasn’t your boyfriend, at least not yet. You wouldn’t call him a best friend either. He was… just there. Like a quiet, steady wind in the background of your storm. You met him in university he’d been part of your theater class, always loud and smiling, while you were the silent, responsible one who came and left early to catch the train home.
But for some reason, he stayed.
And stayed.
Until it became normal for him to help you carry your books. To text you to eat. To drop off vitamin packets at your door during midterms. To walk you to the station even when you insisted he didn’t have to. To show up at your part-time job with hot tea and say, “Just happened to be around.”
But you knew better.
Jun always knew where to find you. And he always helped. Even when you never asked.
One rainy Wednesday night
You were carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and a stack of your sister’s school art supplies in the other, soaked to the bone. The strap of your bag had broken and your phone had died. Your chest ached from how tightly you were trying to hold everything together. The streetlights were flickering as you walked home, the wind sharp and cold, your arms trembling from the weight.
And suddenly
An umbrella covered you.
A familiar voice. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
You blinked, breath caught. “Jun, how did you?”
“I called. You didn’t pick up. So I came.” He took the grocery bag from you without waiting. His hand brushed yours warm, solid. “You should’ve called me.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” you whispered, looking down.
His sigh was soft. “Y/N. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”
“I’m the eldest,” you replied without thinking, voice cracking on the edges. “It’s my job.”
Jun didn’t say anything for a moment. But then, he placed the umbrella handle in your hand and reached out gently wiping away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.
“You’re allowed to rest too.”
He was always there.
When your little brother got sick and you had to run between home and pharmacy, Jun was the one who showed up with soup and stayed to clean the dishes.
When your mother snapped at you during dinner out of her own stress, Jun held your hand under the table until it stopped shaking.
When your boss yelled at you unfairly and you cried in the breakroom, Jun was the first to show up outside with bubble tea and a stupid dance to make you smile.
He never asked anything in return.
Never once said, “You owe me.”
But one day, you broke.
It was after a long week your father had fallen ill, your sister was behind in school, and your manager had threatened to cut your hours.
You came home to find the water heater broken, and the living room flooded.
You sat on the floor, soaked, surrounded by the smell of damp socks and soap, and cried. The kind of crying that comes from the bones, from a place so tired it no longer remembers how to hope.
And just like always, Jun showed up.
“Where’s the mop?” he asked softly, crouching beside you.
You couldn’t even speak. Just shook your head, covering your face.
“I’m here,” he whispered, rubbing your back gently. “You don’t have to say anything.”
He didn’t ask questions. Just stood up, rolled up his sleeves, and started cleaning. You watched him through blurry eyes how careful he was, how gentle, how patient.
You didn’t realize how long he stayed until the living room was dry, your tears had stopped, and he was sitting beside you, arm loosely wrapped around your shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely. “For always making you come save me.”
“You didn’t make me do anything,” Jun replied softly. “I wanted to.”
You looked up. His eyes were kind but serious.
“Do you know how strong you are, Y/N? How much I admire you?”
You didn’t speak. He reached over, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.
“But even the strongest people need someone to lean on sometimes. Let me be that for you.”
Later that week, you asked him something.
“Why do you help me so much?”
Jun smiled, but it wasn’t playful this time. It was quiet. Honest.
“Because I see you.”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I see you, Y/N. The way you carry everyone. The way you smile when you’re hurting. The way you give and give, even when you’re running on empty. I see it.”
And then, softer: “And I love you for it.”
Your heart stopped.
“I don’t want anything from you,” he said, eyes gentle. “I just want to be by your side. To be the person you don’t have to be strong around.”
Years later
When you stood at the altar, dressed in white, you remembered every moment Jun had been there.
When your father gave you away, his hands trembling with age, you remembered how Jun had helped you convince him to take his medication.
When your little sister hugged you tightly, crying happy tears, you remembered how Jun helped her pass her exams when you couldn’t.
And when Jun held your hands in his, whispering vows you didn’t need to hear to believe you smiled.
Because in a world where you had to be strong for everyone…
He had always been strong for you.
And the best part was you never had to ask.
