#woonhak fluff

myung jaehyun ♡s cheek kisses he was originally a sucker for kisses on the lips, but after seeing the smile that you give him every time he kisses you on the cheek, he couldn’t help but fall in love with kissing your cheek. don’t even get him started when you kiss him back, he basically crumbles every time you do. he loves it when the two of you are cuddling and he has his face oh so close to yours, he just can’t help himself and presses a swift kiss on your cheek. ♡ “baby i’m going to the mall,” you giggled, bag in hand as you stood at the front of the door. all jaehyun could do was smile as you looked so cute, he leaned his head against the wall as a little smile creeped up his lips. “you look really pretty,” he cooed, smirking like a dork as he walked towards you. “oh really?” you batted back, trying your best to look coy. “yes, how could i not think so!” he chuckled. “be safe, okay? make sure to call me if you need anything.” he hummed, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. you nodded, turning the doorknob. “love you, jae” you sang, making him practically fall backwards.

park sungho ♡s wrist kisses sungho likes two things when it comes to physical touch, hand-holding and kissing your wrists. in his words “it’s way less awkward for me to kiss your wrists in public than kissing your lips,” even though it draws more attention than kissing, he wants to be “different”. it’s super cute when the two of you are outside and he clasps your hands in his—trying his hardest to warm your freezing hands, only for him to press his soft lips on your wrist. ♡ you were in the middle of trying out all of the cosmetics you bought from your local drug store, bottles of creams and oils scattered all over your bed. “what are you trying out now?” sungho hummed, curiosity all over his face. “i’m using this handcream, it’s vanilla scented and super smooth. honestly— it was worth it,” you rambled as you rubbed the cream in. sungho paid attention to each word you said as he stood in front of you. “come smell it” you cheered, raising your hand for him to hold. sungho bent his head down a bit to smell it, his eyes locked on yours with a cute smile on. “smells really nice, y’know i should buy it..” he said, holding your hand with such care. “it smells so good” he hums, pressing chaste kisses on your wrist before letting your arm fall down. “good, we can go back there and buy it together.”

lee riwoo ♡s hand kisses this man is like cornfield levels of corny, so don’t be surprised when he jokes about being a gentleman. at first, he would kiss the back of your hand as a “funny” joke, but little did he know he would actually enjoy kissing your hand. whenever you’d come home he would always kiss your hand with a stupid smile attached to his face, giggling to himself about how silly he was. as no surprise to you, you actually became fond of his little joke, even if it was 1000 days old. ♡ riwoo jumped for joy as you brought groceries home, smiling like a dork as he ran over to hold the bags. “i’m so thankful that you brought food home, i am starving!” he sighed in relief, placing the bags on the counter. “you’re welcome,” you chuckled, sliding your slippers off before walking to the kitchen. “soo, what do you wanna eat? we could honestly eat a snack, and then we can cook later.” you spoke up, hoping that your idea fancied him. “yeah sure, i can wait a few more hours before eating,” he smiled, his hands taking the food out of the bags before putting them away. you nodded. as you walked over to the sink to wash your hands, riwoo grabbed your hand softly, holding your fingers in his hand before kissing your hand. “ohmygod! riwoo, i didn’t wash my hand, do you know how gross that is…” you stared at him in shock, “well… if i get sick, you’ll take care of me, right?” you sighed, you knew damn well you would.

han taesan ♡s top of the head kisses lets cut to the chase. he is way taller than you, so it’s just so convenient to kiss you on the top of the head. that is the only reason he could come up with. plus, he can do it in public and no one would bat an eye cause he can just rest his head on top of yours after. he just loves how you don’t mind him doing that to you. he likes not feeling super embarrassed after kissing you, and you like how he touches you, so it clearly is a win-win situation. ♡ the two of you stood in the moving subway, holding onto the handle as you awaited your stop. taesan stood behind you, hand resting on your waist, holding you near him. you pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and opened the camera app to use it as your mirror. you stared at your phone as you fixed your shirt’s collar, making sure it popped the way you liked it. as you were busy fixing your outfit, taesan rested his chin on your head, watching you. you didn’t even realize he kissed your head multiple times. it just felt so natural, so you didn’t say anything and let him do it. taesan turned you around and mindlessly fixed your outfit—smoothning it out and helping you with your collar once and for all. “thank you, sannie” you whispered, making him smile. you turned around again and embraced his hand in yours. kim leehan ♡s thigh kisses this sounds really shocking, but truly hear me out. leehan likes any kiss in general, he will smother you in thousands of kisses. but something so intimate about kissing your thighs—it drives him wild. it isn’t even inherently sexual either, he just loves it when you let him kiss your thighs as it’s super rare for you to let him do it. he obviously cherishes the moment in his heart. ♡ a random show was playing as filler noise as you laid in your bed with leehan, scrolling through your phone as you wrapped your body around him. you turned your phone off after a bit of usage and placed it on your dresser. you turned to face your boyfriend again and smiled. leehan stared at you, his eyes lazy from sleep trying to take him. “ihan, you’re so cute” you muttered, kissing his nose. he giggled softly before yawning. you squeezed him with all of your strength. “you give me such bad cuteness aggression, what is your secret” you hummed, tracing your finger down his chest. “i’m not sure,” he whispered. you continued to squeeze him, the both of your bodies moving around in the bed. you finally let go after a bit and your leg was over his neck. “you’re crushing me with your leggg” he whined, moving you closer to him, making your thigh rest over his face. “and this isn’t crushing you?” you scoffed jokingly, shaking your head as a smug smile rested on his lips. without a word, a kiss landed on the back of your thigh, making you giggle. “do it again,” you laughed, and he complied, kissing you over and over again. 

kim woonhak ♡s lip kisses he’s new to relationships and very inexperienced when it comes to those kind of things. so, to keep it simple in his mind he just sticks to kissing your lips. besides, his lips are so kissable. who wouldn’t kiss him!? it could be cute pecks to making out with him, it doesn’t matter to him. as long as you kissed him he doesn’t care about anything else in the world. ♡ you sat on the bleachers as you watched woonhak play basketball, eyes glued onto him as he ran across the court, chasing the ball and trying his hardest to steal it from his opponent. you videoed him on your phone and tried your hardest to capture all the good moments of the match. as it reached the final minutes of the game and his team winning, you knew it was going to be alright. in a flash, woonhak stole the ball from the guy and ran to their net, “YES WOONHAK RUN!!!!!” you screamed, standing up and shouting at him to shoot. in no one’s surprise he shoots and scores, ending the game and winning for the team. you ran down the bleachers and without a doubt, woonhak ran over to you and hugged you, kissing you and squeezing your body with his. “i’m so freaking happy for you!” you cheered, making him smile like a dork. you kissed him once again and hugged him.

jaehyun

literally would be big spoon or small spoon. doesn’t give a single fuck, just as long as you are touching. his arms and legs would somehow always end up wrapped around you. i think his body to be very warm too, no blanket needed when jaehyun is here.

loves to lay on your chest and stare at you as you talk to him. also PLEASE play with his hair. he will never ask you directly to but he wants you to trust. could probably lay anywhere on you and fall asleep tbh, he just feels so safe with you :(

sungho

(im literally melting thinking about this somebody sedate me) he would be so impossibly close to you. i think he prefers to spoon you or have your head on his chest the most :(

he also loves laying on your chest and falling asleep to your heartbeat. he finds the noise so calming and it makes him fall asleep very fast. most nights he needs to feel your warmth to actually have a good nights rest.

riwoo

his manhood says he needs to be the big spoon all the time but after you spooned him once, he swore he would never go back. now of course he would still spoon you but he loves when you hold him, no matter your size.

loves to kiss your neck and cheeks occasionally as he whispers how much he loves you into your ear, especially if he is laying on your chest. he loves to be wrapped in your arms as he feels the safest and most loved there. on a rare occasion he would spoon you but he truly prefers to be in your arms :)

taesan

prefers to have you laying in his chest so that he can play with your hair :( he would fiddle with it, sometimes even tangling it but he would promise to brush it out for you after you got up! he would also kiss the top of your head occasionally just to smell your shampoo :( (he loves the way you smell)

would also love if you laid between his legs and on top of him. its maximum physical contact for you two and he loves that he can hold you super close. he would pepper your shoulders and cheeks with kisses, causing you to squirm. he just loves to hear your giggles and loves holding you so very much…

leehan

wants YOU to play with his hair. he would lay on your stomach between your legs, granting you full access to his thick head of hair. he would let you do whatever to it, braid it, twist it, or tie it in knots. he has fallen asleep many times in that exact position before.

otherwise, he is another one who likes you laying on his chest. he pets your head occasionally as you listen to his heartbeat. he finds it so calming when you lay with him and talk to him for hours. he prefers sitting in comfortable silence but laying there talking about your days is so important to him too 🥹

woonhak

big spoon 10000% dont play. he wants to baby you as much as possible. he loves holding you as close as possible and kissing your shoulders and neck occasionally. woonhak is very gentle when he kisses you, especially in sensitive spots.

almost always pops a boner like this though… tried to keep it calm and cool but if you noticed his growing problem he might just have to gently make love to you. he would keep you in the same position, whining in your ear as he tells you how much he loves you 😓

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

⋆˚࿔ PARK SUNGHO ⋆˚࿔

your first time getting intimate with your boyfriend sungho was on your one year anniversary.

you both had kissed, made out, hell even seen each other naked. but something always held you both back from actually having sex.

it wasn't because you didn't trust him or you didn't love him enough. you just felt like you should wait.

so when the two of you had finished celebrating your anniversary and were sitting on the couch exchanging glances and soon enough kisses.

you knew you wouldn't stop this time.

you straddled his lap, hands locked behind his neck as you stared into his eyes.

"sungho..." he stayed silent, waiting for you to finish.

"i think I'm ready." you were hesitant with your words, but only because of your nerves.

the kisses on the couch turned into making out. and thay escalated to the two of you giggling as you ran into the bedroom and finished the night spent in each others arms, in each others warmth.

"I love you." sungho muttered against your shoulder.

⋆˚࿔ LEE SANGHYUCK (RIWOO) ⋆˚࿔

the first time you met was through mutual friends.

a friend of yours was friends with jaehyun, and so it was only natural that you met riwoo.

it was at a picnic gathering, and you couldn't help but trail your eyes back to riwoo every so often.

he was so...cute.

his smile seemed to shine, and his voice was so soft when he spoke.

your friend seemed to notice your behavior, urging you to go talk to him. but you would refuse every time, face flushed as you'd shake your head.

sometime during the picnic, you were walking over to your friend. but you didn't see the branch that was laying on the ground.

as you stepped closer to her, your foot got caught on the branch. you let out a gasp as you closed your eyes, waiting for the fall.

but, it never came.

letting out a quiet, huh?, you opened your eyes.

only to see a certain someone grabbing onto you.

"are you okay? uh, y/n. right?" your faces were too close for your own good.

you took a step back, flattening your dress.

"yes!" you cleared your throat, "yeah, im okay. thank you, um.." you just realized you had no idea what his name was.

he chuckled, his cheeks tinted pink.

"sanghyuck. but you can call me riwoo." you smiled smally.

"well then, thank you, riwoo."

⋆˚࿔ HAN DONGMIN (TAESAN) ⋆˚࿔

your first fight with taesan happened four months into your relationship.

it was all just a big misunderstanding. but the two of you were stubborn. still thinking that the other was wrong. but it was still him that had started it and that was enough reason for you to stay mad at him.

you two hadn't talked the whole day, passing by each other in the house numerous times but no words or actions exchanged.

and because you weren't paying any attention to your boyfriend.

you didn't realize how upset he was.

in all honesty, taesan had forgotten about the whole argument and everything. he just wanted you.

he knows you're right there, in the same house. but for some reason. you couldn't have been farther.

taesan was silently following you around, waiting for you to notice him. to look at him. but you never did.

taesan knew he messed up, and that made it all worse. because he wanted to apologize now but...he just didn't know how.

it wasn't until you had sat down to eat your dinner that he came up to you.

his head was dropped and his hands were fidgety as he stood beside your chair.

"y-y/n..." his voice was so small, you never heard or even seen him like this before.

he felt his throat tighten up, why was it so hard to talk to you? he figured it was because of the fear that you wouldn't forgive him.

"I'm really sorry. i-i shouldn't have said what I did, it was wrong." his eyes felt blurry. was he crying? you didn't realize until you heard a sniffle from him.

that was what finally broke your resolve. you couldn't stay mad at him forever. he was your boyfriend, and you loved him.

so with a sigh, you pat the seat next to you. taesan sat down and you handed him an extra spoon, urging him to eat with you.

his breathing evened out and his nose was no longer runny, so you took it as your que to continue.

"It's okay, honey. just...please. let's talk about it next time. I don't like what happened today either." he nodded his head, still a bit shy.

he reached his shaky hand over to hold onto yours and he gave it a kiss.

⋆˚࿔ KIM DONGHYUN (LEEHAN) ⋆˚࿔

your first date with leehan was to an aquarium.

you had chosen the place, and you knew he would love it.

so when the day came and you told him where you two were going. you saw him trying to hide his smile, but he failed.

the whole date his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

he would ramble on and on about all the types of animals that he knew about.

there were times where he felt like he was being a bit too much.

was I talking too much?

you saw how he suddenly got a bit quiet, his mood shifted. your brows furrowed as you waited to see if he would change.

you took down to a hallway of all the fishes and sea creatures you knew he knew about. and when you would ask him questions, he would keep the responses short.

you pouted a bit. "leehan?" he nodded his head in response.

"are you...not enjoying the date?" he shook his head so quickly. "no! I-I love it." you sighed, "so what's wrong?" he bit his lip.

"nothing..." he muttered under his breath. you rolled your eyes. "leehan." he huffed out, "i just didn't wanna come off as, like, too much or too nerdy." his hand went to scratch the back of his neck.

your heart squeezed at his confession.

"no, hannie, i love listening to you talk. you have me wanting to know more." his cheeks were dusted with a light pink as he gave you a shy smile.

"really?" you nodded your head. you think you might've gotten the biggest smile from him ever.

⋆˚࿔ KIM WOONHAK ⋆˚࿔

your first time sleeping over with woonhak happened unexpectedly.

you went over to the boys dorm to visit your boyfriend, you hadn't seen him in a few days.

you arrived a bit late, and the weather had seemed to get really bad out. it was raining heavily and the wind was anything but kind.

it was nearly 10pm now, and when you were looking for your purse to go, woonhak clung to you.

"y/n, it's looking really bad out..." you nodded your head. "um, princess..." you look him in the eyes now, "what's wrong?" you could see that he wanted to ask you something, his eyes avoiding yours.

"d-do you wanna...stay over." you laughed, confused as to what he was asking. "woon, i can't hear you." he brings both his hands to cover his face.

"stay over." he whined out. "do you wanna just stay over? the weathers bad and it's dark and-" your heart melted.

"i-i mean, i don't want to intrude or anything..." his hands flew off his face, his eyes widening. "never. you'd never be intruding, my house is your house." you smiled at him.

you borrowed some of his clothes, doing your nightly routine the best you coulf with limited supplies.

and when the two of you went into the room to sleep, woonhak got cold feet again.

"um," you grabbed one of his pillows, "I'll sleep on the couch. or in here but on the floor." his brows furrowed, he would never make you do that. how could u even offer to. he'd stay up all night just to make sure you got a good rest.

"do you not wanna share...?" his hands fiddled with each other, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"i-i mean, i dont mind. I just didn't want to push too much." he shook his head, extending both his arms out for you to crawl into them.

you two were even under the blanket before he fell down with you in his arms, holding you tightly as he breathed into your hair.

"you smell nice...and you're so warm." he smiled against you. closing his eyes.

"night, woonhak." 

wrap his hand around your waist to guide you

"I'm sure I showed you yesterday, Sungho," you argue gently as you walk around a store, looking for a specific sweatshirt.

You really wanted to buy it for him, for no particular reason besides that it would look great on him, but he just couldn't remember what it looked like. He lets you, not having the heart to tell you it was nothing since this you were so invested.

You were making your way to the man's part when you took your phone out of your pocket without stopping in a corner.

"I'll find it quickly, wait," you muttered in your beard.

"Go on," his voice is soft at your focus state, and there's a sweet smile on his lips.

His hand wrapped immediately around your waist, bringing you a little closer to him as he guided you through the store. His pace slowed down and he became more conscious of his environment so you wouldn't accidentally bump into something or someone.

You're too focused to realize it at first, but when you finally show him your phone again, you can feel the firm grip he has on you and your heart skips a beat.

"Ah this one ! It's really pretty yeah, I'd love it actually," he smiled down to you, not realizing the effect he actually had on you one bit.

he's good with kids

Sungho was waiting for you to come out of the restroom with your half-cold coffee in hand before you two could go on with your shopping day. It’s been planned for a while now, but since he was really busy with uni, you had to wait some more.

He was scrolling on his phone before something moving in front of him caught his attention. Looking up, his eyes fell on a little girl walking around in front of the coffee shop next to him, holding on her red dress tightly as her eyes kept darting around too fast to seem normal. Frowning a little, to put his phone in his pocket as he takes the few steps separating him from her, before crouching down in front of her.

“Hey there, are you alone ? Where’s your mom ?” he asked gently, putting on a reassuring smile despite being worried.

She simply shook her head, her face suddenly turning into a deep frown before falling into his arms with tears in her eyes. Her small hands clinging to his shirt made his heart sink, as he held her without a second thought.

"You're alright, you're alright," he sooth gently, rubbing her back, hoping she'll stop crying.

“Sungho ?” Turning around as your worried voice reached his ears, he managed her weight with one arm so he wouldn’t spill your drink, and walked to you.

“She was walking alone so I checked but she lost her parents,” he explained quickly, giving you your coffee back before holding her properly.

Your heart skipped a beat when he held her tighter, pushing her hair away from her face while tilting his head lightly, checking on her silently. His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard and for a second, you couldn’t help but think he’ll be a great father.

“We should walk her to the security post and wait with her,” you said finally, ignoring the pounding of your heart at the sight of your boyfriend with a baby girl in his arms, stroking her cheek sweetly instead.

What you didn’t know was that it had the same effect on him.

Lee Sanghyuk – Riwoo

fix your jewelry

“I’m so anxious and for what, huh ?” you complained, trying to stay still in your seat as Riwoo drove you to work this morning. You wake up late to go with the bus, so he offered to drive you there so you didn’t have to rush.

“You have a big day in front of you, cut yourself some slack,” he tried to calm your nerves down by taking your hand, but it didn’t seem to work as well as both of you’d like.

Your whole day was planned with big meetings, with various investors so the brand you work for could extend itself on the market. You’re not even sure you’ll have time to eat and you had to wake up late on top of that ? You were cursed.

Parking in front of your company, you took a deep breath before turning towards him one last time, flashing him your best puppy eyes.

“Do I look ok ? Is my makeup fine ? Be honest, I can still fix it –”

He moved before you could finish your sentence. Slowly, he fixed your necklace that might have turned around in the rush, then placed a strand of hair behind your ear so the pretty pair of earrings you had on was now showing. Your heart stopped for a second, you were sure of it, and now your cheeks were burning under the thick layer of makeup. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, your breath getting caught in your lungs as he smiled at you. Brushing his knuckles against your cheek on the way back, he flashed you a content smile.

“You look amazing, don’t be too hard on yourself today,” he mumbled before leaning in and leaving a kiss on your lips.

Grabbing his face more roughly than you intended, you kissed him again. “I love you,” you said against his lips before taking your bag and exiting the car, not without thanking him one last time.

rub his chin when he doesn’t understand something

Sitting on the couch next to him, you’ve been trying to explain to him how you build your character for the last 10min, but that didn’t seem to get through his skull. He was frowning at your phone like it told him to call a waiter, one of his hands holding his face frustratingly.

“I don’t get it,”, he said plainly as his fingers ran over his soft skin, rubbing his chin once again.

A bubbly giggle left your lips. “Yeah, I can tell. See, if you take this artifact…”

He asked you because he was curious and wanted to know more about this game you talked so much, so you did your best for him to understand what was going on, but he seemed so upset about it, it made your heart jump in your chest.

It was a whole, the fact that he clicks his tongue, how he rubs his chin over and over as he focuses on your fingers running around the screen, his frown deepening as he titles his head – god, he is gonna be the end of you.

“I can’t do this,” you say out of the blue, leaving your phone next to you before grabbing his face and kissing him deeply.

Pushing him down on the sofa with you, his breath hitched at first, but he didn't waste a second before his hands found your waist, kissing you with the same need you showed him.

“All of that ?” he asked sarcastically when you pulled away to catch your breath, making you blush.

“Shut it,” you cut him off, kissing him again, but he certainly wouldn’t argue with that.

remember details

You couldn’t hide your smile as Riwoo sat across from you at a restaurant. There wasn’t any occasion, you just mentioned being too tired to cook over the phone as you stepped out of work so he invited you for diner. It was nothing big, a casual restaurant the two of you go often, but it warmed your heart anyway.

“What is it ?” he asked, a little nervous as you kept on smiling.

“Nothing, I’m just happy to eat with you,” you said with a small shrug, waiting for your order.

The date goes smoothly, jumping topics between work and what is going on between your boss and his secretary, to his dance classes, or even what Taesan did last night to get him screaming over the phone. The wait between the courses is filled with small gasps and giggles, so neither of you bother the table behind you, but still enjoy your time together.

When your main course arrived, your eyes widened happily as you clapped your hands together and started eating without a second thought while coming back to your boss’ affair. You got cut by Riwoo picking his chopstick and removing the tomato from your plate without a word, still listening to you talking when he ate it before sitting back in his seat.

His eyes locked with yours as you stopped talking, so he gestured to you to go on with a quick nod, not knowing your heart just fluttered at how nonchalantly he just picked what you hate from your dish.

“Thank you,” you muttered, looking at your plate all flushed now as he giggled at your reaction.

“It’s not even the first time I do this,” he commented as he started eating himself.

You didn’t answer because he was right, it wasn’t, yet, it never fails to make your heart skip a beat and start beating faster.

Myung Jaehyun

Drive with one hand

Parking right in front of the store you work at, it doesn't take you more than a minute to get in the car, sighing deeply as you sit heavily next to him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jaehyun says, checking you from head to toe to see if you stayed too long under the rain or not.

"No it's fine, thanks for driving me home," you said quietly, feeling all the stress and tiredness falling on your shoulders.

"Always."

Laying deep into your seat, you watch the busy traffic with tired eyes. None of you talk, you rarely do when you clock out of work – too tired after spending the whole day forcing smiles. Jaehyun never minded, sometimes he filled the silence, sometimes not. Tonight he doesn't.

Instead, it’s the playlist he made for you that does, playing all the way back to your shared apartment and he simply hums along with it. His cheek is resting against his hand, laying on the edge of the window. He only had one hand on the wheel as he waited for the green light.

He seems bored, but who wouldn't be – he had a long day on his side too. You can't help but stare at him instead of the traffic, a dreamy smile on your face. Your confident boyfriend shatters under your gaze after he locks eyes with you, a shy smile creeping to his lips.

"What ?" he giggles nervously as he starts driving again.

"Nothing, you're just hot," you say without a second thought at first, then you feel your cheeks heat up.

"I'm not," he sighed but you can tell the compliment went straight to his heart.

You're both flustered, Jaehyun’s hiding his mouth with his free hand and you're back to look through the window, but with a happy smile on your lips.

arch a brow when he’s unimpressed

You didn’t know what was up with this guy, but you surely didn’t want to find out. You didn’t give him a second thought when you came to order two more drinks for you and Jaehyun so he didn’t have to leave the conversation he had going on, but maybe you wished he went instead. That guy was talking to you with a smirk tug on the corner of his lips, laying – supposedly – nonchalantly on the counter while you waited for your drinks, and you hated it. Not that you answered him even once, but he kept on pushing on your arm so you would give him the attention he was begging for.

Clicking your tongue, you were about to finally tell him to fuck off when a hand landed on your waist. Pulling you behind him without even opening his mouth, Jaehyun titled his head to the guy, his silent way to ask him what was going on. Your heart started racing in your chest at how protective he gets and so quickly. One of his hands was still extended toward you protectively, making your breath hitch but you hold back from holding it now.

“Who the fuck are you ? I was about to bring her home,” he clearly had one too many drinks and wasn’t impressive at all, making Jaehyun arch a brow.

“Sure, I’d like to see that happen,” he replied dangerously low, before turning around without another word for him.

Instead, his arm wrapped around you who were already holding both your drinks and walked you back to your table. A long sigh left his lips as he held you closer, leaning his head into yours.

“I’m going next time, hum ?” he almost pleaded in your ear.

You nodded, but honestly, you wouldn’t mind being flirted with if you get to see this hot side of him every time.

when his voice get deeper

Coming out of the shower, Jaehyun crashed on the bed next to you without a word but a deep sigh – you swore he just emptied his lungs. Leaving your phone to the side, you rolled closer to him.

“Tired baby ?” you asked softly, your hand finding his back to rub small circles on his soft, still hot from the shower skin.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his voice deep in fatigue, and your stomach did a flip.

You’re very much aware of the effect his deep voice has on you, and when he’s tired, he can’t really force his voice higher like he’s used to, making your heart beats faster. Moving swiftly after a second, you sat on his lower back with your hands already laying on his shoulders.

“How about a massage ?” you asked gently, pushing on the knot in his tensed shoulders, winning a deep, guttural groan.

“You’re an angel,” he commented breathy, relaxing under your touch.

You tried to ignore how deep any sounds coming from him are as you worked your fingers skillfully on his muscles, you really did but there’s so much you can take from him being topless under you – and making such noises at the same time.

Leaving a kiss between his shoulder blades, you sat back next to him while he lifted his face from the pillow, puzzled. He’s about to ask something when your hands grab his shoulders, turning him around quickly so he lays flat on his back.

“Babe ?” his voice is slightly higher, but it can’t be helped now as you sat on his pelvis.

“Maybe I can help you relax in another way now,” you offered, bending over until your lips brush against his without really kissing him.

A breath moaned left his lips before capturing yours for real, his hands already going up to grab the fat of your hips.

Han Dongmin – Taesan

gently manhandle you

"Careful baby," he whispered behind you as his hands grabbed your waist, pushing you gently to the side so he could open the drawer.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as he moves you around so easily, making your heart beats faster. He barely had to put in the effort, too focus on making breakfast for the both of you as you prepared some coffee.

He wasn't even looking your way, still groggy about his early wake up but you couldn't help but stare longer than you realized. A smirk tugged on his lips as he stole a look at you.

"You're staring," he said nonchalantly, almost making you huff at him.

"It's nothing."

It wasn't really a lie, he does this all the time – it just works on you every time.

"If you say so," he shrugged casually, dressing the two plates. That's when you realized he knew very well what he was doing.

tilt his head and frown slightly when he doesn’t understand something

It's not unusual for the both of you to stay in the same room, doing your own things, without exchanging a word for hours. During that time, you can't help but stare at him from time to time and notice how tight his expression is when he's working.

When things don't go his way, he frowns lightly, knotting his eyebrows together tightly as he tilts his head to the side. Sometimes a deep sigh left his lips and you have to close your eyes because oh, how fucked you are.

"You're hot when you're troubled," you said absently, ignoring how down bad that sounds.

It took him out of his mind, straightening his back quickly. "What ?"

"You frown and tilt your head," you explained gently, imitating him as your eyes now locked with his. "That's hot."

He can't help the chuckle leaving his lips, nor the shy yet satisfied smile stretching on them as he shook his head.

"Thank you, I guess," he tries to sound nonchalant, but you can see the tip of his ears are red.

"You're welcome baby."

And you're very satisfied about it.

Leans in when he can’t hear you

The night was going well, he doesn't regret coming in the end, even though he wasn't really down to follow you at your friend's birthday at first. Talking with another guest that happened to have the same interests as him, Dongmin still makes sure to have an eye on you, being only a few steps away.

It was noisy, the rather small room was full of people walking around, talking and laughing at each other, so much he couldn't even hear the guy in front of him clearly.

He doesn't miss you when you make your way to him, a complicated look on his face. He's all ears within a second, dropping his conversation without a second thought to listen to you instead.

"Say, I really..." you started, but he can't figure what you're telling with the noises around.

Leaning in a little so you're closer to his ear, his hand finds your arm instinctively and your heart jumps in your chest. He's so tall compared to you, it actually surprised you to see him leaning in so much.

"Hum ?"

As your heart skipped a beat, you gulped hard to focus back on what you were saying, but your mind went blank for a second. So instead you shook your head and found your way in his arms, ignoring the guy's reaction as you hid your face in his chest.

"What baby ?" He chuckled, leaning in again so he talks to your ear. His hand now rests protectively on your waist.

"Nothing, I forgot. It wasn't important," you muttered, not over how down bad you are for him.

Lee Donghyun – Leehan

wet his lips

You've been looking at Donghyun for the last 10 minutes, and you were genuinely going nuts. He, without exaggeration, wet his lips at least 20 times and it was driving you crazy. You know he was just so busy, he didn’t notice he kept on doing it. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice it.

It left a glossy finish on his lips, all you wanted to do was to kiss him. Whatever you were doing on your phone was long forgotten as you couldn’t focus on it anymore. Leaving it on your lap, you sat up and grabbed his face gently so he would look at you. Surprise is written all over his face when he looks at you, the fish video still playing on his phone.

“You need to stop doing that,” you warned playfully, now making him frown.

“Stop what ?”

“Wetting your lips all the time,” you answered quickly, your finger tapping his lips twice. “They’re gonna get dry.”

And you were gonna lose your mind.

“You need to be more careful,” you nagged gently before leaving a kiss on his lips, feeling them stretched into a smile against yours.

“You’re always sharing your lip balm with me, so I think I’m ok,” he replied proudly, now taping your lips to prove his point.

stare at you when you’re not looking

Leehan has been silent for what felt like too long now. Not that he was the especially talkative type in the first place, but when it's the two of you in his room, he can give you random information before coming back to his things without a second glance. This hasn't happened in a long time.

Lifting your eyes up from your computer, searching for him – you locked eyes with him as he was already staring at you. Your heart flutters at the focus look on his face, as if he was studying your face a second ago so he could answer any exams if he needed to. He does that a lot, and it never fails to make your heart beat faster, or hard to breathe for a second.

"You're staring again," You said quietly, forgetting your laptop for a second.

"Hum, you're pretty," he answered mindlessly, his eyes falling to your lips for a second before locking up to you again.

"No, not right now," you chuckled unamused, pointing at your pajamas and messy hair.

"Yes right now," he argued, moving next to you in his bed. "I decide." He added, leaving a quick kiss on your lips, before crashing down next to you like a big cat.

talks about his interest

Sitting next to Leehan, your head rested on his shoulders as he pointed you at his fishes swimming around their tank. He was explaining to you the time it took for the aquarium to be ready, and you really tried your best to focus on that, but his voice was so slow and deep with fatigue, your mind kept drifting away.

Your eyes were fixed on his reflection on the glass of the tank instead of following his finger, drinking the words falling from his lips as your heart gets warmer. How did you manage to pull such a nerdy, yet hot boyfriend ? You ask yourself everyday what the Gods make.

His hair was falling on his face, hiding his eyes slightly, but he didn't move away as his head was resting on top of yours. A faint smile pushed the corner of your lips.

"You're really amazing," you muttered gently, nuzzling yourself in his neck.

"Am I?" he asked in a small chuckle.

"Hum, you know so much, i love listening to you," you confessed, still smiling but his way now as you looked up to him.

"You don't get bored?"

"Never," you shook your head. "It's hot."

You feel him tested under your touch.

"You think so ?" he asked then, a little hesitant but you could feel the smile in his voice.

You simply nodded, before encouraging him to go on, before he focused on it too much and made a comment that would make your heart explode.

Kim Woonhak

pock his cheek with his tongue when he’s focus

Pulling an all nighter to prepare for an exam the next morning wasn’t a first for you, in fact, it happened more than you’d like to admit, but it was a first with someone by your side. Your new boyfriend decided to stay with you through it this time, working on his own stuff on the other side of the room.

When 4 in the morning hit, your body was so tired, you couldn’t help but lay on your table for a second – doing your best from closing your eyes because you knew it was done if you did. Instead your eyes wandered around the room until they laid on Woonhak sitting on your couch, his laptop on his lap and his headset on. He didn’t move for the last hours as well, so focus on his laptop he didn’t even glance your way during this time. You checked.

Your mind slowed down as you took in every detail about his face. His hair almost falling in his eyes, the small acne scars forming a constellation on his cheek, how he pouted when he’s bothered – he was too cute to be true, even when he looked serious like this. That’s what you thought until his tongue poked the inside of his cheek before clinking it, and a deep sigh left his lips.

You must be more tired than you think because this made your stomach twist and woke you up like cold water. Your eyes widened and you had to clear your throat to keep you from staring. You suddenly moving around caught his attention and he moved one side of his headset to hear you.

“Tired baby ? You’re going to bed ?” his voice’s deep with tiredness but he doesn’t flinch, still focused on his work.

“No I’m fine,” you muttered before sitting up straight. “Just needed a small break.”

“Hum, ok. You’re doing great,” this time, he looked at you and smiled, he was so tired, it was written all over his face, and yet your cute thoughts about him vanished away with your fatigue.

Now you want to be done with your revision and get all his attention instead. That will wait for tomorrow.

run his hand through his hair

Woonhak doesn't like it when his hair starts getting too long. It keeps on falling in his eyes, annoying him to the point where if he doesn't go to the hairdresser within a week, he might just cut it himself in his bathroom with kitchen scissors.

You, on the other hand, really like it. Because he sounds extra hot when he's annoyed, and the way he keeps on running his hand through his hair really works on you.

"I'm so done with this," he groaned under his breath as he pushed it away again.

He fell dramatically on your laps with a deep sigh, his hand now covering his eyes. Gently, your hand started running through his hair in a hopeless attempt to make him change his mind.

"But it looks good on you," you coo, caressing his skin softly as well.

"It's so annoying, I really can't keep it like this," he goes on, shaking his head as he looks up to you with pleading eyes.

"You look hot though," you added quietly, hoping your arrow will land where you want it to.

His eyes widened slightly before he chuckled your comment away, hiding his face in your belly. Only then you noticed how red his ears got.

"Don't say stuff like that," he whispered, and you could feel the mess going on in his mind. "I might keep them like this."

A big smile stretched on your lips as you bent over to pepper his face with kisses.

"I would live for this."

whisper in your ear

The party was getting boring, and you hated your friend for leaving early because she had an exam next morning – as if she didn’t used to go to exams with two hours of sleep and the equivalent of her weight in alcohol in her system. Laying against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, you were stuck staring at people playing spin the bottle as you refused to join since you were taken.

The music wasn’t loud enough, the beer tasted awful and you were hungry – it clearly won’t be your most memorable night. Or it would, but as the worst ever. Sipping on your beer anyway, you flinched when someone stopped next to you before catching the cologne you know too well. Leaning in, Woonhak lips brushed your ear, making your heart jump.

“Not enjoying it ?” he whispered in your ear, his arm wrapping around your waist as he does.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warm feeling twisting your stomach into knots slowly as he leaned into your shoulder, his nose now brushing your hot skin. A chuckle left his lips as he held you close to his body, and that’s all you needed to know he was tipsy and bored.

“Wanna go home ?” he asked in your ear again, leaving a kiss on your temple. “I agree it kinda sucks.”

“Taesan won’t mind ?” you asked quietly, watching your common friend you came with kissing a girl around the circle.

“Who cares, he seems busy anyway,” he replied quietly, and for once, you don’t really mind leaving a friend behind.

You drop back against your pillow and exhale slowly. The ceiling stares back at you, indifferent and unhelpful. Somewhere outside your window the neighbourhood has gone quiet—it's late, later than you should still be awake, and yet here you are. Thermometer on the nightstand. Fever climbing. The elaborate skincare routine you had promised yourself—the one specifically designed to ensure you looked like a functioning human being tomorrow—sitting completely forgotten on your bathroom shelf.

Tomorrow morning, which is the morning of your first date with Kim Woonhak.

Even just thinking his name sends an embarrassing flutter to your chest. That small, involuntary lurch behind your ribs, the one you've grown so used to that you almost forget it hasn't always been there. 

Almost. 

The truth is you remember exactly when it started. It wasn't dramatic. No grand revelation or cinematic eye contact across a crowded room. Just the smallest detail—stupid and completely ordinary, and then it settled somewhere deep and refused to leave, through months of friendship and late nights that ran longer than they should have, through every conversation where you chose your words a little more carefully than necessary and every time you looked at him and had to remind yourself to look away.

And now, after all of that, tomorrow is finally arriving. 

Your first date. With him. Your first date with anyone, if you're being fully transparent with yourself, which you are actively avoiding because that particular truth makes everything feel even more enormous than it already does. The outfit is already hanging on your wardrobe door. You'd spent an almost unreasonable number of evenings narrowing it down, texting Woonhak about completely unrelated things while your floor was covered in rejected options, and the memory of it makes a quiet warmth bloom in your chest even now, even through the fever haze.

You reach for your phone. His contact is already open because of course it is, your thumbs have developed their own opinions about where they want to be apparently. The rational thing is right there—one text, simple and reasonable. “I'm not feeling well, can we move this?” He would understand. He would insist on it, even. He is, frustratingly, that kind of person.

You stare at the empty message box.

Then you lock your phone and set it face-down beside the thermometer.

No. Absolutely not.

You have waited too long for this. You've sat with this feeling for too long, through too many months of wanting a relationship you weren't sure you'd ever get to have. You are not surrendering tomorrow to a fever. You will sleep this off. You'll feel better in the morning—people recover from fevers overnight all the time, surely, and you will simply be one of them through sheer force of will if nothing else.

The glass of water on your nightstand, the one you poured an hour ago with genuine intentions of drinking it, sits completely untouched. The medicine in your bathroom cabinet stays in the bathroom cabinet. The half-eaten snack you'd abandoned on your desk earlier in favour of rereading your last conversation with him remains exactly where you left it, slowly going stale.

You turn off the lamp.

Tomorrow, you decide, with the serene and entirely unfounded confidence of someone who has comprehensively outsourced her common sense to her heart—you will be absolutely fine.

You close your eyes.

You are so utterly, devastatingly, hopelessly cooked.

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

Morning arrives, and it is not kind.

You become aware of consciousness slowly. Everything feels heavy. Your head, your limbs, the very air pressing down against your skin—all of it conspires to keep you horizontal, and for a long, bleary moment you comply. The sunlight filtering through your curtains feels aggressive. Your throat has graduated overnight from sandpaper to what feels like gravel, and the low throb behind your temples from last night has settled in with the comfortable permanence of an unwelcome houseguest.

You lie there, blinking at the ceiling.

Something was supposed to happen today.

You can't quite—

Your phone lights up on the nightstand.

You reach for it with the slow, waterlogged movements of someone operating at approximately forty percent capacity, fingers closing around it weakly. The screen swims into focus. One notification. A text, timestamp seven minutes ago, from the contact name you may or may not have spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing.

“Good morning :) still up for today? or did you finally come to your senses and realise you can't handle me?”

The effect is instantaneous and completely involuntary.

You sit up.

The headache detonates behind your eyes like a personal vendetta, white, sharp and immediate, and you actually have to press the heel of your palm against your forehead for a moment, teeth gritted, vision briefly unreliable. A noise escapes you that is not remotely dignified. You stay very still until the worst of it passes, phone clutched to your chest, the room tilting gently at its edges.

Then you look back down at his message.

The smile happens before you can stop it.

“I’ve been ready since yesterday,” you type back, which is true in every sense except the one where you are currently sitting upright through sheer determination alone, fever still very much present, head still very much attempting to detach itself from your body. “don't keep me waiting :)”

You hit send.

Then you push the covers back, plant your feet on the floor, and decide with absolute finality that you are fine.

You are so fine.

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

Getting ready takes longer than it should.

It’s not because you are indecisive—you already know what you're wearing, have known for days, the outfit still hanging exactly where you left it on your wardrobe door like a small monument to your own optimism. It takes longer because somewhere between washing your face and attempting eyeliner, your body keeps requesting breaks you haven't scheduled. A moment gripping the bathroom sink while the floor shifts unreliably beneath you. Another moment sitting on the edge of your bed, mascara wand in hand, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass with the patience of someone who has decided that dizziness is simply not on today's agenda.

You look at yourself in the mirror.

You look terrible.

You look, specifically, like someone who ran a fever through the night and then got up anyway and tried to cover it with skincare and wishful thinking (which… is exactly what you did). Your eyes are glassy enough that no amount of concealer has managed to fully disguise it, and there's a specific quality to your complexion that sits somewhere between delicate and concerning.

You lean closer to the mirror.

Fine, you decide. Totally fine. Practically glowing, even.

Breakfast does not happen. You think about it briefly, open the fridge, register that the idea of eating anything feels genuinely implausible, and close it again. You'll eat later, during the date. That counts. That's basically the same thing.

By the time his text arrives—"on my way :)”—you are dressed, presentable by the loosest definition of the word, and running on a potent mix of adrenaline and delusion. You do one final check in the mirror, smooth down your outfit, and decide firmly that you look fine.

You look fine.

When the knock comes you cross the apartment in record time, pull open the door, and there he is.

And for a moment, you forget entirely that you feel like you're dying.

He looks like how he always does, which is to say unfairly good in an entirely casual way that he seems completely unaware of, and he's smiling at you with that radiant smile that has absolutely no business making you feel the way it does. His eyes do a quick, almost imperceptible sweep of your face—a brief, unreadable emotion passing through them—before settling back on yours like it never happened.

"You actually showed up," he says, delighted, like he genuinely wasn't sure you would. You lean against the doorframe with what you hope reads as effortless and not please give me something to hold onto.

"Told you," you reply. "Don't keep me waiting."

He laughs—bright and easy—and steps back to let you through, and you decide with complete certainty that you would drag yourself off your deathbed every single morning for the rest of your life for that sound without a second thought.

You grab your bag. You step outside. 

Yes, you are completely, totally fine.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The night market is everything you imagined it would be.

Warm light strung low between stalls, the smell of frying oil and sugar competing in the air, noise layered over noise until it stops being individual sounds and becomes atmosphere. Woonhak grabs your wrist the second you step inside, already pulling you through the crowd before you've fully arrived, pointing excitedly at a stall halfway across the market.

"Okay, okay—do you see that? We're going there first. No arguments."

"We just got here—"

"No arguments," he repeats, already moving, and you laugh and follow him, and for a blissful, golden little while, you forget entirely that you are running a fever of nearly thirty nine degrees.

He's so bright tonight. That's the thing about Woonhak that you can never quite explain to anyone who hasn't stood next to him—he fills whatever space he walks into, this warm and restless energy that makes everything feel like it's moving slightly faster and more vividly than it did before he arrived. You've liked him for so long that you've genuinely forgotten what it felt like not to, and standing beside him now, it feels like a reality you keep having to convince yourself is real.

You feel strange tonight. Everything seems just a little out of focus, like your body can't quite keep up with the rest of the world. But his hand is warm around your wrist, grounding you, and the dizziness eases enough for you to catch your breath. 

You're here. You made it. Everything else can wa—

A sudden chill moves through you from your shoulders down, your whole body shuddering once, visibly, before you can catch it.

Woonhak turns immediately.

"Are you cold?"

"No," you say. "Just the breeze."

He looks at you. Then he looks very deliberately at the banners hanging from the stall directly beside you—completely, utterly motionless, not a single thread shifting—and then he looks back at you with his eyebrows raised.

"There's no breeze."

"There was one. It passed."

"It passed." 

"It was… very fast!”

He stares at you with his mouth slightly open, caught between disbelief and amusement, and then he laughs—short and bewildered—and shakes his head and turns back to the stall. You exhale quietly.

Fine. You're fine.

But when he falls into step beside you again he's closer than before that your arms brush with almost every step, and his hands have come out of his pockets, and you notice all of this and choose, very deliberately, not to think about what it means.

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

He talks without restraint, like every thought that crosses his mind is worth sharing. He keeps up a running commentary on every stall you pass, tells a story about Jaehyun that has him laughing before he even reaches the punchline, and bumps his shoulder against yours every so often to make sure you're looking at whatever has caught his attention.

You are. You laugh when he laughs, follow wherever he points, match his energy as best you can. It's just that every few minutes, the world blurs around the edges, and you have to blink until everything settles back into place before he notices.

"—and then he actually tried to convince the guy that it wasn't even his—" Woonhak glances over mid-sentence and catches you a half-beat behind, your gaze slightly unfocused, and stops. "Hey."

You blink back into the moment. "Sorry — those caught my eye." You gesture at a nearby stall. "What were you saying?"

He doesn't look at the stall. He looks at you, and underneath his expression a different frequency of attention has switched on—the laughter still warm in his face but behind it, watchful now. 

"You sure you're okay?" he asks.

"I'm great," you tell him, and you smile, and you put your whole self into it. "Tell me what happened."

The moment passes. He finishes the story and you laugh in the right place. But when you start walking he's closer again— closer than he was even a minute ago— and his shoulder stays pressed against yours, steady and deliberate, and you think he's started noticing more than he's letting on.

Inside, the throb behind your temples has quietly escalated. You breathe through it and keep walking and tell yourself it's fine, it's fine.

You're absolutely fine.

 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

He buys you tteokbokki without asking, appearing at your side with it like it's the most natural thing in the world. He holds it out to you, his expression easy, but there's a quiet insistence beneath it.

"You haven't eaten anything this whole time," he says, and the teasing lilt that's coloured his voice all evening gives way to quiet concern.

"I've been pacing myself."

"For an hour."

"I'm very disciplined."

He looks at you, and for just a second, the easygoing expression slips away. What's left is intent—focused, a little worried.

"Eat," he says. "Please."

The word startles you more than it should. You don't think you've ever heard him sound quite so earnest. 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you're reaching for the skewer. 

You smile, take it, and try. You genuinely do.

Two bites in, your stomach clenches in immediate protest. You stop chewing.

For a few long seconds, all you can do is stand there, swallowing carefully, willing the nausea back down. The skewer hangs forgotten in your hand as you fix your gaze on the lantern above the nearest stall, counting each breath and praying your face doesn't give you away.

It passes. Barely.

The third bite never comes.

You find a bin a minute later. When you return to his side his eyes go straight to your empty hands, and the silence stretches three full seconds longer than it should.

"You couldn't finish it?" he asks quietly.

"I wasn't as hungry as I thought," you offer.

He looks at you for a long moment, jaw shifting once. He has the expression of someone assembling a picture from pieces he doesn't want to believe, choosing very carefully not to say what he's thinking yet.

"Okay," he says, quiet and measured.

It's only one word, spoken in a tone you've never heard from him before. But it tells you more than anything else he's said all evening.

You take his hand without thinking about it, lacing your fingers through his, and he squeezes back—warm and immediate—and you feel him exhale through it.

"Come on," you say softly. "What's next?"

He lets you redirect him. But his thumb traces a slow, absentminded pattern against the back of your hand as you walk, and you don't think he realises he's doing it, and it keeps you tethered to the present unlike anything else tonight has managed. For a little while the fever recedes back to a murmur and you almost forget again.

Almost.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The adrenaline leaves gradually, and then all at once.

There's no single moment where you register it happening. It's just a slow and incremental dimming. The idea of him has been powering you through this all evening—the wanting, the waiting, the electric reality of finally having what you'd spent so long hoping for—and ideas, it turns out, have limits when your body is running a fever on no food, no water and sheer stubborn devotion.

You're still beside him, matching his pace, answering when he speaks. But your reactions come a fraction too late now, every smile feeling just a little heavier than the last. He tells a joke that would usually have you laughing without thinking. It still reaches you. Somewhere beneath the fever, it's just as funny as it always would be. Your body simply can't keep up.

Woonhak has gone quiet.

The commentary has stilled entirely. He's just walking beside you now, close enough that your shoulders stay in constant contact, and you can feel the weight of his attention on the side of your face like a hand pressed gently against glass.

"Hey," he says, low.

"Hey."

"You having fun?"

"So much fun." You mean it. You mean it with everything you have left, which isn't much, but every last bit of it is his. "I really am."

He nods slowly. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Your chest tightens. "Nothing's wrong," you say. "I promise."

He doesn't push. But his free hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady, and it keeps you upright in more ways than one.

Almost there. 

Just the rooftop. 

You just have to get to the rooftop.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The street leading away from the market is quieter, lined with low amber light and the particular stillness that follows when a crowd falls away behind you. Woonhak mentions the rooftop ahead with practiced casualness—definitely looked it up, definitely pretending he didn't—and even now, even like this, the quiet effort behind it makes your heart soften.

You make it halfway down the street.

The dizziness arrives without warning and without mercy—a full and consuming wave that drains the colour from the edges of your vision and turns the pavement unreliable beneath your feet in a single, devastating second. Your steps falter. Your free hand reaches for something solid to grab onto and finds only air.

"Hey—" Woonhak feels it through your joined hands before you've even fully registered it yourself, turning towards you instantly. "Hey, what's—"

"I'm—" But the word dissolves. The world tips. Your knees buckle before you can catch yourself, and the pavement rushes up to meet you—

Arms catch you before you reach the ground, immediately pulling you in against him, and the impact you braced for never comes, just the solid warmth of him and his voice saying your name with an urgency that cuts through the fog like the first clear word you've heard all evening.

"Hey — hey. I've got you. Can you hear me?"

"Mm." It's all you can manage. Your hands have found the front of his jacket and are holding on with what little grip you have left.

For a moment he just holds you, one hand braced at your back, and then his palm comes up to press against your forehead, and the sharp breath he draws in tells you everything about what he's been expecting.

"You're burning up." His voice is low and even and very, very careful. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

You close your eyes. "Since yesterday."

Silence settles between you.

"Since yesterday," he repeats. His grip doesn't loosen, but it changes somehow, tightening just enough for you to notice. His gaze searches your face as if he's trying to reconcile the answer with the version of the evening he'd convinced himself was real.

"I didn't want to cancel," you say, into his jacket, very small. "I've been waiting for today for so long. I just—I really didn't want to cancel."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. You feel him exhale, slow and deliberate, feel the way his arms adjust around you with a care so methodical and certain that your throat tightens with it. Before you can ask what he's doing, your feet leave the ground. The movement is so smooth you're already tucked against his chest by the time it registers that he's carrying you.

"Woonhak—"

"Don't," he says softly. His jaw is set and his eyes are forward and his hold on you does not waver for a single second. "Just stay with me, okay?"

You try.

You really, genuinely try—you focus on the amber light above you, on the steady rhythm of his footsteps, on the warmth of his chest against your side and the sound of his voice and every small anchor that might keep you tethered here, present, with him. You want to stay. You want to see where this street leads, what the rooftop looks like and every version of tonight that has yet to come.

But the fever has been patient all evening, and it is done being patient.

The amber light blurs and stretches. His voice reaches you from somewhere far away, your name in his mouth sounding like the last clear sound in a room going slowly, gently dark—and your hands, still curled into the front of his jacket, go slack.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

You wake slowly, and the first thing you register is cold.

A damp cloth sits folded over your forehead, cool water tracing a thin line down towards your temple, and beneath it your skin feels tender and overheated in a way that makes the cold almost unbearable and welcoming at the same time, like your body can't decide which sensation to trust. You lie there for a long moment without opening your eyes, just breathing, just existing inside the strange heavy quiet of a body that has been running on empty for far too long.

The air smells different from your own room—cleaner, somehow, with an undertone of a warm, familiar scent that you can't immediately place, not until your mind catches up and supplies the answer : him. It smells like him.

You open your eyes.

The ceiling above you is not your ceiling. The light fixture is wrong, the crack in the corner that you've memorized from your own bedroom missing entirely, replaced by smooth unbroken white. You blink, slow and uncertain, and let your gaze drift sideways instead—soft grey walls, a desk cluttered with things that are clearly not yours, textbooks stacked at an angle that suggests they were shoved aside in a hurry, a hoodie thrown carelessly over the back of a chair like someone changed out of it in a rush and didn't bother folding it.

His hoodie. His desk. His room.

Oh.

The realization comes quietly as the memories begin to return, uneven and out of sequence, as though your mind is still catching up to everything your body has already lived through. The market, warm, loud and golden. Lanterns strung low overhead. Tteokbokki you couldn't finish, the way his eyes had gone straight to your empty hands when you came back from the bin. His hand at the small of your back, steady even as the ground had started to feel unreliable beneath you. The street after, quieter, amber-lit, his voice mentioning a rooftop with poorly disguised excitement.

And then the ground tipping. His voice, sharp and urgent, cutting through a fog that had already started swallowing everything else. Your name, said like it mattered more than anything else in the world.

And then nothing. A long, formless nothing, dark and total.

You lift a hand—slowly, testing, like you're not entirely convinced it will cooperate—and press your fingers lightly against your own forehead, beneath the cloth, as though you might be able to feel the fever from the outside if you just try hard enough. It's still there, quieter now, banked down to a more manageable ache than whatever had been raging through you last night, but present all the same. A dull, insistent hum beneath your skin.

You have never in your life felt more like a zombie than you do in this exact moment, and the humiliating part is that you know, somewhere in the honest core of yourself, that it isn't only the fever's doing. You'd spent the entire week rotting quietly from the inside—skipping meals because his texts felt more urgent than hunger, staying up because talking to him felt more important than sleep, letting every small warning sign slide because nothing, nothing, felt more pressing than the fact that you were finally, finally going to get to have this. Him. A date. A version of tomorrow you'd been aching for since the moment you realized you were in this deep.

Lovesick, in the most literal, humiliating, medically inconvenient sense of the word.

You almost laugh, except your throat is too dry and your head throbs in mild protest at the idea, so instead you just lie there, staring at his ceiling, marinating in the specific mortification of having quite literally fallen ill over a boy.

Maggots for brains, you think, a little deliriously. If he ever found out that phrase existed, you would never, ever hear the end of it.

The door opens.

"OH MY GOD—okay, okay, you're up, you're actually—" Woonhak comes in fast, too fast, a bowl balanced with visible concentration in one hand like he'd been hovering just outside the door waiting for exactly this. The moment his eyes land on you properly, something in his whole body seems to loosen, relief washing so plainly across his face that it's almost startling to witness, like he'd genuinely been bracing for the alternative.

"Do you know how long you've been out?" He crosses the room in a handful of long strides, setting the bowl down on the nightstand with more care than the rest of his movements would suggest he's capable of right now. "A full day. Twenty four hours, I've been checking your temperature every hour like some kind of lunatic, Jaehyun's been texting me asking if I've lost my mind, I genuinely think I might have—okay, here, sit up, slowly, don't just—wait, let me—"

His hands hover, uncertain, torn between the cloth on your forehead and the pillow behind you and you in general, like he can't quite decide what needs fixing first and is mildly panicking about the sheer number of options.

"Okay, cloth first, probably, or—no, wait, are you thirsty, should I get water, I have water right here actually—" He reaches for a glass on the nightstand you hadn't even noticed, thrusts it slightly in your direction, then seems to reconsider whether you're upright enough to drink anything and pulls it back halfway. "Or not. Not yet. Cloth. I'll do the cloth.”

 It would be funny, you think distantly—the way concern turns him chaotic instead of calm, all that easy confidence from last night nowhere to be found—except you don't have it in you to laugh, not yet, because somewhere between the door opening and him crossing the room, the full shape of everything has finally caught up to you.

The date. The one you'd wanted for months, quietly, achingly, through every late-night conversation and every carefully chosen word. 

"—and I texted my mom, actually, don't ask me why, I panicked and she was just the first person in my contacts who wasn't you—" He resettles the cloth against your forehead with a gentleness that doesn't match the speed of his voice at all, two entirely different registers running at once. "She said to give you soup. I'm already doing that. I feel very ahead of the curve here, honestly—”

The one you'd promised yourself you'd be present for, fully, unmistakably yourself, not this. Not fainting in the middle of a street. Not losing an entire day. Not waking up small and fever-warm in his bed while he hovers over you like you're a fragile object he's afraid of breaking further.

"—I mean it, I nearly had a heart attack, you just went completely limp, I've never carried anyone that fast in my life, I think I set a personal record actually, not that this is a competition, but if it were—" He stops, and notices, maybe, that you've gone very quiet beneath him, that your eyes have taken on a glassy, distant quality that has nothing to do with the fever.

There was no rooftop. There was no ending. There was just—an entire day gone, swallowed whole, and the quiet devastating certainty that you'd taken the one thing you'd wanted most and broken it before it had even properly begun.

Your eyes sting before you can stop them.

Woonhak's rambling cuts off mid-sentence.

"Hey—hey, what's wrong?" His hands finally land, one bracing gently at your shoulder, the other hovering near your face like he's afraid to touch without permission. "Is it your head? Are you dizzy, do you need me to—"

"I…" You swallow hard. "I r-ruined it." Your voice catches on the second word, and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to stop.

It doesn't work.

The tears come anyway—hot, fast, and completely outside your control, spilling over before you can do anything to stop them. 

"I ruined the whole thing." Your breath hitches. "I wanted it to be p-perfect. I wanted to be—I don't know." You shake your head, another sob breaking through. "I just wanted to be normal."

Your next words come out in a rush, tripping over each other.

"I wanted you to have a good first date, and instead I passed out in the middle of the street, and you had to carry me, and there was no rooftop, and I missed an entire day, and I'm s-sorry." The apology fractures around another shaky breath. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted it to be good, and I—"

"Hey. Hey, no—" Whatever he was about to do gets abandoned entirely. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed, closer now, and his hands come up slow and careful, as though you're a frightened animal that might startle at sudden movement. One thumb brushes beneath your eye, catching a tear before it can fall further, and then his palm settles against your cheek, warm and steady, like it belongs there.

"You didn't ruin anything," he says, and there's no trace of teasing left in his voice now. Only a quiet certainty, delivered as though it isn't even a point worth arguing. "You showed up to see me with a fever of thirty nine degrees because you didn't want to disappoint me. Do you understand how insane that is? You ate tteokbokki you could barely keep down because I asked you to. You held my hand through an entire night market while you were actively about to pass out, and you still laughed at my stupid Jaehyun story, and you still smiled at me like—" He stops himself, exhales, shakes his head slightly, like even he can't quite find the right shape for it. "Like I was the only good thing in the whole market. That's not ruining a date. That might be the most anyone's ever tried for me in my entire life."

You blink up at him, throat too tight to answer, more tears slipping free despite his thumb's best efforts to catch them.

"There's going to be a rooftop," he says softly, still wiping at your cheeks with a patience that leaves your chest painfully tight. "There's going to be a hundred rooftops, I promise you, I already looked up five more just in case. I'm not going anywhere. This isn't the only chance we get." His voice grows gentler with every word. "You could've just told me you were sick, you know. I would've shown up at your door with soup and my bad taste in movies instead. I wouldn't have cared about some rooftop."

"I wanted the date," you mumble, small, pressing your face slightly into his palm without quite meaning to. "I've wanted it for so long. I didn't want a fever to be the reason I didn't get it."

"I know." His thumb sweeps once more beneath your eye, gentle. "I know, you absolute menace. You've got maggots for brains, you know that? Fever like that and you still texted me 'don't keep me waiting.'"

A wet, surprised laugh escapes you despite everything, undignified and hiccupping. "That's so mean."

"It's affectionate," he says, entirely unbothered, leaning forward to press his lips briefly to your forehead, right where the cloth had been. "Extremely affectionate. I've been thinking about it all day, actually—maggots for brains, over me. I don't think I've ever felt so honored to be someone's rot."

"Please stop talking."

"Never," he says, grinning now, some of the earlier panic finally bleeding out of him now that you're laughing instead of crying. He reaches for the bowl on the nightstand, angling it towards you with exaggerated ceremony. "Soup. Made by my own two hands, so lower your expectations accordingly. And then you're sleeping, and I'm staying right here, and tomorrow—when you've got actual functioning brain cells again—we're renegotiating this whole rooftop situation. Non-negotiable."

You take the bowl from him, your fingers brushing his, and the tightness in your chest eases for the first time since you woke.

"Okay," you say quietly.

"Okay?"

"Okay." You manage a small, worn-out smile. "Take care of me, then."

The look that crosses his face at that—soft, a little stunned, like you've handed him permission to hope—stays with you long after he's tucked the blanket back around your shoulders and settled into the chair beside the bed, close enough that his hand finds yours without either of you really deciding it should. The fever hasn't broken yet. There's no rooftop tonight, no ending you'd planned for.

But his hand is warm around yours, and his eyes stay on you even after you've closed your own, and for the first time all week, the ache in your chest doesn't feel anything like sickness at all.

Maybe this was just the thing that happens when your baby stays. 

@coriihanniee ᯓᡣ𐭩

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

All you want to do is curl up in your boyfriend’s arms and sleep for a hundred years.

The problem?

You don’t want him anywhere near you.

You’re currently bundled into a burrito of blankets on your bed, tissues scattered around like evidence of your suffering, hair messy, hoodie swallowing your frame. Your throat aches, your chest feels tight from coughing, and your entire body carries that heavy, bruised soreness that comes with being sick.

From the doorway, he watches you like you’re the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

“Did you take your medicine?” Woonhak asks softly, holding a steaming bowl of soup like he’s presenting treasure.

You squint at him. “I think so.”

“You think so?” he echoes, amused and concerned all at once.

You let out a pitiful little cough and immediately regret it. Your whole body protests.

He crosses the room in two steps, sets the soup down on your bedside table, and sits beside you. His hand comes up instinctively, pressing to your forehead, then your cheek.

“You’re warm.”

“I’m always warm,” you mumble, voice raspy and small.

His brows knit together. “You feel different.”

Everything about him feels gentle right now. His touch. His voice. Even the way he tucks the blanket higher under your chin like he’s sealing you in.

You watch him through watery eyes.

He brought you soup. He made sure you drank water. He set alarms for your medicine. He even showed up earlier with a little plastic bag of your favorite snacks—chips, the soft strawberry candies you like, the exact brand of juice you always reach for at the store.

Just in case you crave something, he’d said.

Your chest tightens for a completely different reason.

“Woonhak,” you croak.

He looks at you immediately. “Yeah?”

“I want cuddles.”

The way he perks up would be funny if you weren’t so miserable. His entire face lights up like you’ve just granted him a wish.

“That can absolutely be arranged,” he says, brushing his hand against your cheek, thumb stroking gently under your eye.

You lean into it instinctively, eyes fluttering.

“But—” You hesitate, throat thick. “I don’t want to pass it on to you.”

Your voice sounds so small that even you notice it.

He pauses for half a second. Then he sighs, but it’s fond. So fond.

Without another word, he kicks off his slippers and climbs under the covers with you.

“Woonhak,” you protest weakly.

He pulls you straight into his chest.

“I don’t care,” he says simply, wrapping both arms around you. “If my girl needs cuddles, I will give her cuddles.”

His warmth hits you instantly. Solid. Safe. Familiar.

He adjusts the blanket around both of you and shifts you so your head rests perfectly in the space between his shoulder and neck. One of his hands moves to your back, the other to your shoulder.

And then he starts rubbing slow circles.

You almost cry.

His palms press gently but firmly, working out the soreness that’s been clinging to you all day. He moves down your spine, back up to your shoulders, kneading carefully like he’s memorized every tense spot.

Your body has felt like it’s been hit by a car and then run over again for good measure. No fever, just relentless coughing, aching muscles, heavy limbs, and this overwhelming urge to cling to him and sleep forever.

You let out a soft, shaky sigh. “That feels so good,” you whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs into your hair. “You’ve been so tense.”

“I feel like I’ve been fighting for my life.”

He huffs a tiny laugh against your scalp. “It’s a cold.”

“It’s the worst cold.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “My dramatic girl.”

You sniffle.

Your hands creep up, fisting into the fabric of his hoodie like you’re afraid he might disappear if you don’t hold on tight enough. The cold has made you emotional in a way you can’t quite explain. Everything feels amplified. Your discomfort. Your exhaustion. Your need for him.

He keeps rubbing your back, slow and steady.

“You’re not scared I’ll get you sick?” you ask quietly.

“I’ll survive,” he replies easily.

“But what if you don’t?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I will,” he says firmly, brushing your hair off your forehead. “And even if I do get sick, then you’ll take care of me. That’s how this works.”

You swallow hard. The idea of him sick makes your chest ache.

“I don’t want you to feel like this,” you mumble.

He smiles softly. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay healthy.”

Your eyes sting suddenly, and you hate that you feel like crying over something so small.

“Hey,” he murmurs immediately, noticing the shift in your breathing. “Why are you tearing up?”

“I’m not,” you lie, voice wobbling.

He cups your face in both hands, thumbs brushing under your eyes. “You are.”

The cold has stripped away all your composure. All your cool. All your usual playful sarcasm. What’s left is something softer. More vulnerable.

“I just,” You sniff. “You’re being so nice.”

He blinks. “I’m always nice.”

“You know what I mean,” you whisper. “You didn’t have to come over. You didn’t have to bring all that stuff. You didn’t have to sit here all day making sure I drink water.”

He looks genuinely confused.

“I wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your voice cracks again. “You just take care of me so well.”

He studies your face carefully, his expression softening into something unbearably tender.

“That’s my job,” he says quietly.

“You’re not my nurse.”

“No,” he agrees. “I’m your boyfriend. Which is better.”

That does it.

A tear slips free despite your efforts. You bury your face in his chest in embarrassment, but he only wraps his arms tighter around you.

“Hey,” he whispers into your hair. “Why are you thanking me like I’m doing something extraordinary?”

“Because you are,” you mumble against him. “You always do.”

He goes still for a moment.

Then his hand resumes its gentle path along your back, slower now, more deliberate. “You take care of me too,” he says softly. “When I’m stressed. When I’m tired. When I overthink everything.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not.” His chin rests on top of your head. “You make sure I eat. You remind me to sleep. You listen to me complain about everything. You hype me up over the smallest things.”

He shifts slightly, tilting your face up so he can look at you again.

“You love me really well.”

Your breath catches.

“I do?” you ask, small.

“Yeah.” He brushes his nose gently against yours. “So let me love you really well back.”

The words settle deep in your chest. You grip him tighter.

“I love you,” you whisper, the confession soft and fragile.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“I love you more.”

You shake your head weakly. “Impossible.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “Watch me.”

You cough again, and he immediately reaches for your water without breaking the cuddle. He helps you sit up slightly, holding the cup to your lips like you’re made of glass.

“Slow,” he murmurs.

You drink, then sink back into him.

“Thank you,” you say again, quieter now but steadier. “For everything.”

“For soup?”

“For staying.” Your fingers trace small shapes over his hoodie. “For not thinking I’m gross right now. For not making me feel annoying.”

His expression turns almost offended.

“You could never be gross to me,” he says firmly. “Even like this.”

“Even with my red nose?”

“Cute.”

“My raspy voice?”

“Adorable.”

“My terrible cough?”

He pauses dramatically. “We’ll work on that one.”

You manage a weak laugh that turns into another cough, but this time he just rubs your back until it passes.

“I just feel really lucky,” you admit softly once you’ve caught your breath. “You’re so good to me.”

He presses a long, warm kiss to your forehead.

“I’m lucky too,” he whispers. “You trust me enough to be this clingy.”

You flush.

“I blame the cold.”

“Blame it all you want,” he says, tightening his hold around you. “I’m not complaining.”

You settle deeper against him, one leg thrown lazily over his, arms tucked securely around his waist. His hand slides under the hem of your hoodie just enough to rest warm against your back, skin to skin.

It’s grounding. Safe.

You can feel his heartbeat through your cheek. Steady. Reliable.

“Woonhak?” you murmur, already drifting.

“Mm?”

“If you get sick—”

“I’ll let you baby me.”

“You better.”

He smiles against your hair.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers.

His fingers comb gently through your hair, over and over, the repetitive motion soothing every frayed nerve in your body. The soreness feels less sharp. The heaviness feels less unbearable. Even the ache in your throat dulls under the warmth of his presence.

You breathe him in.

He smells like laundry detergent and something uniquely him. Familiar enough to make your chest feel full.

“I really love you,” you mumble again, half-asleep.

“I know,” he answers softly. “I really love you too.”

You sigh contentedly.

The cold might be awful. Your body might feel like it’s been dragged through a battlefield. Your head might be foggy and your nose stuffed and your cough relentless.

But right now?

You’re wrapped in warmth. In steady hands and soft kisses and whispered reassurances. In someone who doesn’t hesitate when you say you need him, and that makes everything feel a little less miserable.

He keeps holding you long after your breathing evens out. Keeps rubbing slow circles into your back. Keeps pressing gentle kisses to your temple like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever been trusted with.

Even if he gets sick tomorrow, he thinks it would still be worth it.

Because you’re his girl, and taking care of you like this feels less like a chore and more like coming home.

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