#we:th

❧ Hui/Reader | Lily (white): Sympathy, rebirth, commitment

Hui nuzzles his nose into your neck, arms around your waist – he’s basically completely on top of you, and also half asleep. It’s absolutely adorable and you stroke your fingers through his hair lovingly as he fights to stay awake.

“I wanted to spend time with you..” There’s a very distinctive whine to his voice, and an underlying current of regret, like he genuinely believed he was letting you down by falling asleep. It makes your heart ache.

“You are, sweetheart. You have no idea how happy it makes me seeing you sleep – sometimes I think you’ve literally forgotten how.” You punctuate your words with a kiss to his temple and he grumbles something unintelligible and lifts his head to look at you, eyes narrowed. He is so cute, and you lean forward to quickly press a kiss to his lips.

“Stop that –“ He tries to act upset but there’s a sweet little laugh towards the end that he can’t hide. “I’ve cancelled on you so many times already, and now I’m falling asleep. That doesn’t upset you at all?”

“Not at all.” You reassure him with a smile, and he regards you for a moment longer before he lets his head rest back on your chest.

It was true that he cancelled plans with you often – he was insanely busy even on his slow days, and on the days he was free he liked to keep working regardless. (You remember the last time the two of you had been together, and he’d suddenly got an idea on how to fix a track he’d been working on. He’d been so apologetic, but you’d just thought it was funny and sort of endearing.)

“I really don’t mind, Hwitaek.” He hums softly in acknowledgment and you cup the back of his neck in response, tension draining from his shoulders at the warmth. “Go to sleep.”

Those words are the same as an I love you to him, and you can feel his sleepy smile on your collarbone as he drifts into dreams.

❧ Hongseok/Reader | Spray Roses (red): Love, passion, desire [Warnings: handjob, footjob if you reaaally squint, very minor degradation]

He thinks there’s something thrilling about this, about how he is physically so much stronger than you and how you still pin him to the wall regardless – he’s not sure what it is, but he knows there is literally no way he could fight back against you even if he tried.

Your hand around his cock tightens and he lets out a breathless whimper into your mouth, hand groping behind him for the handle of his bedroom door that you’d pushed him against the instant you both had entered. He needs something, anything, to stabilize himself with.

He doesn’t find it in time, sinks to the floor after you bite his neck once, harsh – you’re laughing at him and it makes the fire burning him away from the inside even brighter, even hotter.

“You’re so cute.” Your voice is a soft coo and he hears it like he’s far away, gazes up at you in a mess of lust and want. He is so hard, and when you tauntingly brush against him with the side of your foot he lets his head fall back against the door with a painful thud.

“Oh, honey, don’t do that – are you okay?” He doesn’t actually feel any of the pain he knows must be there, leans into your fingers that brush through his hair tenderly and tilts his head up for a kiss. You’ve knelt down in front of him and his eyes slide shut when you grant him his request, pressing your lips against his again.

A sweet moan is torn from his throat when you reach down to grasp him, his breath coming in short, fevered pants. You smile lovingly at him and he feels like you are consuming him – he gives himself over willingly with another soft sound of pleasure, completely lost, completely in love.

❧ Shinwon/Reader | Sweet Autumn Clematis: Ingenuity, mental strength, respect [Warnings: slight angst, referenced OT9 but you can view it as platonic]

It’s a few days later than you meant for it to be, but you corner Shinwon in his room one night, ignoring his soft laughter and confused repeated questions of “what?”. You don’t bother bringing back-up – sometimes it helped, but you felt like today it would just make it harder for Shinwon to respond the way you wanted.

“Nothing, baby. I just wanted to talk to you.” Already he’s scrunching his nose up at you – that particular term of endearment makes him feel all squirmy inside, and you know this, and he knows that you know. “Is that okay?”

You’re giving him a convenient out, and he glances once at the door like it was physically the bridge between having whatever conversation this was or not. When he rests his gaze back on you, you know he’s made his choice.

“Okay.”

You don’t bother telling him what prompted this conversation – if he knew that you could read him so easily then you were afraid he’d keep a tighter grasp on his emotions around you next time.

As it was, you gently coax secret fears and hidden feelings from him under the soft glow of his bedside lamp, yellowing the room around you even as it shifts from night to dark night, the gradual lessening of the gap between the two of you as his voice gets more serious, quieter. He doesn’t cry, and that worries you most of all – so many of your soft-hearted boys had toughened up over the last year, had gone through so much that they’d learned crying never got them anywhere, and it hurt your heart so much.

“Will you stay tonight? With me?” He speaks after a silence that has stretched on for about fifteen minutes, his head resting on your shoulder, your arms around him and his around you. There’s a tender, somber atmosphere that surrounds the two of you, and your soft ‘of course’ doesn’t cause it to dissipate. It lingers as the two of you change into sleeping clothes, wreathing around you both like a dense fog as you crawl under the covers, facing each other. The two of you gaze at each other quietly for some time after, his eyes the color of the dark night outside the window, impossibly soft.

Neither of you say a word, quiet and reverent, and when he shuffles closer to press his forehead against yours and closes his eyes you breath out a soft sigh that he mimics.

❧ Changgu/Reader | Sunflower: Loyalty, longevity, devotion [Warnings: bondage, blindfold, breathplay]

He is a vision for you on his knees, impossibly dark eyes tracking your every movement with so much adoration that it’s almost suffocating. Even with his arms bound securely behind him, rope crisscrossing his bare torso, he keeps a soft smile on his face the entire time, like he genuinely believes each thing you do to him is a gift that should be treasured.

Even as you slide a blindfold over his eyes with the whisper of silk on skin he’s still smiling, murmurs a soft baritone of a ‘thank you’ like he actually appreciates his vision being taken from him. It makes your heart clench with so much love, completely honored with the amount of trust he has in you, how he gives every piece of himself up to you every single time.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you, Changgu?” You keep your words as quiet and reverent as his demeanor, slide your fingers feather-light across his throat. He tilts his head back for you at the feeling, always so good, still smiling.

“I love you too.” His voice is a soft rasp as your fingers press down slightly – a bit heavier and he gasps, smile disappearing to be replaced with the same shocked, open-mouthed expression that he always gets whenever you start a session. It’s like he never quite expects you to give something like this to him, something he so desperately craves and seeks out.

“I know you do, love. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you talk to me, the way you react to anything I do to you –“ You’re cutting off his airflow a decent amount now and his head is swimming pleasurably, your words registering but far away and fuzzy. “And I could never thank you more for those gifts that you’ve given to me.”

The feeling of air rushing back into his lungs when you let go is just as dizzying as the lack of it had been, but your fingers trace his jaw lightly and in the darkness that was his current environment thanks to the blindfold he is attuned to only you, can only think of you.

There’s blood rushing in his ears but he leans into your touch anyway, once again smiling.

❧ Yanan/Reader | Statice: Sympathy, fond memories, reunions

Yanan breathes out a soft sigh, shifting on the bed – your arms encircle his waist tightly, holds him like you’re afraid of losing him again. It’s because of that sentiment that he says nothing.

‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’ has blurred into one meaning at this point, so you’ve instead begun leaving kisses on his jawline whenever you feel the urge to tell him again slipping onto the tip of your tongue. Four hundred plus days was a lifetime to be without someone you thought of as your other half.

“It was nice of Changgu to clear out of your room for a few hours.” You keep your voice quiet and Yanan hums at the sound, eyes slipping shut as he relaxes more. Your head is tucked in against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It pounds out a comforting rhythm of I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

“You mean after he sulked for half an hour?” His voice is soft but there’s clear amusement laced through it, and affection as well. You knew that no matter how much he complained about the other members, they were still his family.

“Love you.” It still slips out sometimes, like your brain is afraid that you’re going to lose the chance to say it to him in person – Yanan’s chest shakes beneath your ear in a quiet laugh, one of his hands slipping down your arm to hold your hand in his.

“I love you too.” He repeats it back, like he does every single time, and the beat of his heart underneath your cheek has shifted into I’m home.

❧ Yuto/Reader | Wax Flower (yellow): Riches, luck, enduring love

[Warnings: edging]

Yuto is hot when he sleeps – so often you wake up because the arm he’s slung over you is burning your skin off (or something similar… it was easy to be dramatic when you were half awake).

He’s absolutely feverish now, dark eyes molten in their intensity – the room is lit only by the glow of the dim nightlight he uses, sends dark shadows creeping across the slopes of his tanned skin. He writhes under your touch, stares at you pleadingly, makes soft noises in his throat that go both high pitched and into his low bass, on two completely opposing sides of the spectrum and yet meaning the same thing.

“Please –“ It’s hissed out from between his teeth, raspy because of the way he tries to keep quiet. A similar sound is released when you rake your nails down the front of his chest, leaving red in their wake.

“I’m just taking my time, Yuto – it feels good, right?” You wait until he nods, dark strands of his hair falling over his eyes like feathered ink which you gently brush away. “So what were you asking for?”

His cock is a deep red, flushed and leaving a mess of pre-cum on his lower stomach – you think it’s such a pretty sight, even as he squirms and tries to get your attention. His hands remain firmly grasping the pillow underneath his head (he was nothing if not obedient).

“Please.” He repeats, and then he says it again and again until it’s turned into one single sentence of the same word, and you think at one point he had shifted into Japanese before falling back into Korean.

“Hmm.” You pretend to think about it and can see the exact moment he realizes what you’re doing, what you’re planning – he whines, high in his chest, and it cracks his deep voice when he tries to protest. Your hand slides over his mouth nonchalantly, leaving him to beg you with that liquid gaze instead. “If it feels good then I think you should be able to endure it a little longer, hmm?”

He doesn’t say anything – can’t say anything – instead pressing a kiss to your palm in lieu of speaking. A burst of pure love slams into his chest when he sees you smile, and the overwhelming burning want that had been consuming him for so long settles into a low simmer.

Yes, he could endure it a little longer.

❧ Hyunggu/Reader | Larkspur (light blue) & Lisianthus (white): Open-heartedness, grace, appreciation [Warnings: MY BRAIN STALLED ON THIS AND THEN I REMEMBERED I HAD A TEN MINUTE TIMER GOING AND I PANICKED AND JUST FROZE so this is awful hyunggu i am sORRY]

The way Hyunggu moves when he dances is captivating – anyone who’s seen him perform could vouch for that, would fawn over the graceful lines of his body or the passionate expressions or the sheer joy that exuded off of him.

Dating him made you no less immune to this affect – if anything, you were more susceptible to it. Whenever he’d practice the choreography in front of you, getting sweaty and out of breath but smiling so damn brightly it blinded you, at the way he’d bound over to you, still smiling, pointing to his cheek because he expected a kiss for doing well, your heart would threaten to completely leave your body at the sight.

His startled laugh at you turning his head back to kiss him on the lips is a sound that makes your heart soar. Seeing him so happy, so carefree, was all you really ever wanted.

The way he interlaced his fingers with yours when he was happy, or bumped his shoulder into yours when he was trying to get your attention, or would send you cute texts about literally nothing with ninety different flower emojis – all of it added to the unending reservoir of things you loved about him, things that made you happy because they made him happy.

“Do you have any idea how happy you make me?” Your question floats through his studio as he plays some old song softly as background music, the rhythmic clicking of his mouse stopping as he turns to look at you. You’re laid out over his couch, peering at him curiously.

“Where’s this coming from?” He answers your question with another question, chasing it with a soft laugh. “I could ask the same of you, you know.”

There’s a long silence where the two of you just look at one another – it’s not uncomfortable at all, and you get the sense that the two of you are somehow communicating wordlessly.

“I think you make me happier than anything else ever has or ever will, Hyunggu.” He contemplates your sincere and heavy words for a long moment before standing and walking over to you, sitting down on the couch at your hip. He’s smiling mischievously at you and you raise an eyebrow at it, wary.

“You could have just said you loved me, you know –“ You swat at his arm indignantly but he continues speaking, completely undeterred. “I love you too.”

❧ Wooseok/Reader | Carnation (blue): Peace, truth, trust

There’s something indescribably ethereal about seeing Wooseok the first thing in the morning when you wake up – him sliding from the bed must have roused you, because when you blink your eyes open you can see him stretching, fingers ruffling chaotically through his recently dyed hair. The early morning light is still cold, not yet a warm yellow, and it makes him look paler than usual against the darkness of his hair and the deep red of his old t-shirt. You wonder if the shorts he’s wearing are Yuto’s because they ride just a bit high up his leg. You wish he was comfortable enough to sleep shirtless around you like he did when he was with just the boys. (But you were different, and outside of certain things he still got shy showing that much skin around you.)

He must feel your gaze on him because he throws a glance over his shoulder – sleep clings to his gaze, dark eyes hazy, smile that appears equally as sluggish as the rest of him. He is all long limbs and lazy energy, passionate to a fault, his lips landing just a bit too hard on yours as he collapses back to the bed, bracing himself on his forearms. His hair tickles your cheek, long and fried by the constant dyeing but still beautiful, and you tug on the offending strand lovingly.

“Ow.” His remark is purely for show, no emotion behind it at all, and then he’s leaning back down to press his lips to yours again, fingers catching at yours that caress his jaw, interlacing and bringing it to the hem of his shirt, and then under it.

You laugh against his lips, feel his own stretch into an embarrassed but contented smile. Your fingertips burn brands into the skin over his ribs, grounding him and electrifying him all at once. An interesting, flighty feeling in his chest makes it feel like his heart is threatening to beat out of his body, and all he can do in the wake of it is smile adoringly at you.

He is so infinitely happy here, in this little slice of time the two of you had carved out in the early morning, tranquil and calm.

❧ Jinho/Reader | Heather (white): Protection, good luck, wishes coming true [Warnings: referenced smut, hairpulling]

“- and Shinwonnie likes to pretend everything is fine until he cracks, so don’t –“

“I know babe.” The pet name catches him off guard long enough that you can press your lips to his twice, murmuring another ‘I know’ between them. “Stop worrying, you’re the one going off alone.”

Jinho just smiles crookedly at you, gently takes the shirt of his you’d been clutching from your hands to refold before packing it. You feel like he’s packing a piece of your heart with it.

“I’m not going to be alone alone, you know.” He doesn’t seem worried about anything except the well-being of the people he’s leaving, and you try to feel the same but can’t quite manage it. You watch his profile as he continues packing, chewing on your lip.

“I know. It’s just hard and –“ You wince, blinking back sudden tears. “- fuck this, I don’t want to cry if you’re still here.”

“You’re doing better than Hui.” Jinho points out, perhaps a bit insensitively, but when had he ever pulled punches when it came to this sort of thing? Still, he watches out of the corner of his eye, smiles brighter when you successfully blink them away.

“I love you, Jinho.”

“Gross.” He makes a face at you, probably an attempted grimace, but he’s still smiling so it doesn’t quite work. You’re so used to his sense of humor that you don’t even react past a small smile of your own – you never got as worked up as some of the other boys did at things like that – so he reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. When he doesn’t let go, just curls his fingers around your own and tries to finish packing with one hand, your heart threatens to burst. Jinho didn’t do handholding.

“Just tell me you love me and you can have your hand back.”

“Gross.” He repeats, laughing at the noise of disgust you make at him. You both know he’s the one still holding on, the one who initiated, but neither of you acknowledge that. “You’re trying to blackmail me. I think you’ve spent too much time around Shinwon.”

“Clearly I haven’t, since the blackmail isn’t working.” He laughs openly at that, and you join him, imprinting how happy he looks in your mind’s eye. When you tug him towards you he goes willingly with zero resistance. When you say ‘kiss’ he does so without complaint, and one kiss turns to four, to fourteen, and then you lose count, his fingers pressing into your waist and yours against the tender skin at the base of his neck.

“You’ll all look out for each other while I’m gone, right?” He asks, your head on his bare chest, gaze on the ceiling as his thumb traces nonsense patterns on your shoulder. His hair is ruffled and beautiful, and you’re mourning the loss of it already, trace the line of marks you left across his collarbone. At least those wouldn’t be gotten rid of so easily.

“Of course we will.”

“Mmn.” He seems satisfied with that, glances down at you and smiles the type of smile that makes his eyes look like they’re glowing. You want to kiss him all over again. You do.

“Forget leaving for the army, you’re never going to let me leave this bed.” He says on a laugh, and you answer with a serious ‘yep’ that makes him laugh even harder, even as your fingers interlace in his hair and pull, taut.

❧ Hyojong | Daisy: Innocence, purity of the heart, new beginnings

The controlled chaos of being backstage was something he’d found he had missed – there was a sort of calm in being a part of all that organized disorder, in knowing what you were supposed to do. The stylist flits around him in bursts of controlled energy, darkening the eyeliner at his eyes, sharpening his cheekbones. An electric tripwire is live underneath his skin, anxious excitement tempered only by the warm smiles Hyuna sends him when they lock eyes in the mirror.

His phone buzzes moments before he leaves the waiting room – he glances at it and warmth blooms in his ribcage, like the text he sees had been the sun his heart was waiting for. (It’s short and simple, sweet and to the point – but Jinho had always been like that.)

It’s easy to melt into the flow of idols and backstage staff heading towards and away from the main stage – a few people glance at him, but most people are too busy to pay him much mind. He figures that’s why he feels a solid weight hit him in the side, like they weren’t in danger of being seen by Pentagon’s cameras.

Hui’s arms are tight around him and Hyojong would laugh if he could, but he can already hear the stagehands calling for him – Hwitaek’s smile is blinding, eyes glassy, and Hyojong is affectionately reminded of just how stupid the elder could be sometimes.

“Good luck hyung!” Wooseok doesn’t even bother trying to be quiet, and suddenly Hyojong’s being bracketed in by eight other bodies – he grasps Yanan’s hand quickly because it’s been so long – as they all give him their own versions of well-wishes and love.

The flower tattoo above his thumb burns from where someone’s fingers traced it briefly and he’s laughing as he pulls away from them to head towards the stage, feeling a bit like he’s crying - but he knows there’s no tears, knows he’s glowing instead.