antiromantic-astronaut

[antiromantic-astronaut]

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[antiromantic-astronaut]

Habit

Choi San x GN Reader

fluff

Content Warnings: exhausted San, showering together (non-sexual)

When San gets home, he slips his shoes off and shrugs out of his coat. He hears soft music playing in the bedroom and smiles, happy you’re home. After six weeks living in the dorms, he’s so excited to be home with you for a small break in promotion preparations. He leaves his bag on the couch and knocks on the bedroom door. He hears you exclaim his name and stumble to the door. 

There you are, your curly hair wild and frizzy around your face, your frame draped by a massive sweatshirt with a frog reading a book on it. He grins until his cheeks dimple and sweeps you into a warm hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” He says, warm breath tickling your neck. 

“We spoke this morning,” you laugh. 

“It’s not the same,” he whines. “Didn’t you miss me?” 

You pull away and squish his cheeks between your hands and assure him that you’ve missed him so, so much. He moves quickly and catches one of your fingers between his teeth. You pull your hand away from his mouth and poke him in the stomach. 

“No bites!” 

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you suggestively. You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays your amusement. 

“Okay, some bites,” you concede. “Have you eaten?” 

“Nope.” He steps further into the room, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What’d you have in mind?” 

“Hm, how about pho?”

“Perfect!” 

You spend the evening catching up on each other’s day-to-day and eating delicious food. San feels so refreshed being home with you. He’s sore and tired, but he’s so happy. You can see the exhaustion in the shadows beneath his pretty eyes and the stubble that he can’t be bothered to shave. 

“I have an idea,” you say, standing up and holding your hand out to him. He takes it without question, grinning as you pull him back into the bedroom and through to the bathroom. You strip out of your sweatshirt and underwear, tossing it all out of the bathroom, and turn to him with an expectant eyebrow raise. 

“Strip,” you laugh. 

He looks you up and down and nods, loving this idea so far. He strips out of his clothes quickly, throwing them into the pile you made just outside the door. Satisfied that you’re both sufficiently naked, you close the door and turn on the shower, steam quickly filling the room. 

You grab San’s hand and pull him under the stream. You take him by the shoulders and rotate so his back is to the water.

“I like when you manhandle me like this,” he laughs. 

You grin up at him, “It’s for your own good.” 

Your hands drop from his shoulders to his waist, fingers lingering against his skin for not nearly long enough for his liking. You grab your favorite body wash and lather it into a soft rag. You tilt his chin upward and gently massage the soap into his neck and shoulders. He hums, pleased with your work. His muscles begin to release some of the tension they’ve carried for the last month and half under your careful ministration. 

You touch his elbow and pull him so he turns to face the stream, and you wash his back. After his skin is completely lathered, you hang up the rag and focus entirely on soothing the knots in his muscles away with practiced pressure. He moans when you work on his right shoulder, and again when you massage his waist. 

His eyes are closed when you turn him around one more time, but he reaches out and pulls you into his chest. You hug him as the water rinses him. 

He frowns when he feels the goosebumps on your skin, “You’re freezing.” You begin to protest, but he spins around so that you’re warmed by the shower. You moan quietly as your body soaks in the heat. He holds you close, hands rubbing your biceps to smooth away the goosebumps. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing into him. 

“Thank you too,” he chuckles. “This was a great idea.” 

You hum in agreement. 

“Is it a wash day?” He asks, gently tugging on one of your ringlets. 

“Mhm,” you look up at him and poke one of his dimples. 

He hugs you closer and rotates again, which makes you laugh because you’re beginning to feel like an old washing machine stuck on the rinse cycle. 

He lets go of you so he can grab your shampoo. You’re always so impressed when he measures out the perfect amount in his first attempt. 

“Close your eyes,” he commands and you obey. 

His fingers work the shampoo through your curls with great care not to tug on any knots. You wince slightly when his thumb gets caught in a tangle. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re doing amazing.” You assure him with a gentle squeeze of his hip. 

He thoroughly rinses your hair, remembering how itchy your scalp had been the first time he washed your hair and he didn’t get all of the soap out. The light scratch of his nails at your temples feels so good. 

Next is conditioner. He lets the conditioner sit for a few minutes and then kindly detangles your hair like you showed him before, and he’s damn proud of his work. You praise him and his chest warms with pleasure. When it’s finally time to rinse, he twirls you around one more time. 

You finally open your eyes to look up at him, he grins and you return the gesture. He reaches around you and turns off the water. He leaves your side briefly to grab a big towel. He wraps you up in it, careful not to get your hair caught in it. He also hands you his towel and giggles when you drape it over his whole head. 

Once you’re both mostly dry, you return your towels to their rack. He puts his hands on your hips and cozies up behind you so you have to waddle out of the bathroom, nearly tripping over your pile of discarded clothing. You leave his grip to tidy the dangerous little pile and then climb into bed. You pat his side of it so he’ll join you, which he does without objection. 

Under the comforter, he pulls you close to himself and kisses you sweetly on the lips. You smile into it and he does too. You can tell he wants more. 

“San,” his name comes in a breathless whisper. “You need sleep.”

“I need you,” he counters with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. 

You trace the shadows beneath his eyes with your thumbs and shake your head. “Sleep first. Please.” 

He playfully narrows his eyes, but a big yawn betrays him. He sighs. 

“Okay, sleep first.” 

“Thank you,” you kiss his nose. 

Your skin against his and the fresh scent of your hair are so soothing that he falls asleep within five minutes. It takes you a little longer, but you follow his lead. You both sleep deeply and restfully, cuddled up close. 

[antiromantic-astronaut]

woosan ♡ wanteez ep6

[antiromantic-astronaut]

❝ on a sudden day when I’m left alone i’ll take my steps towards you again ❞

[antiromantic-astronaut]

[antiromantic-astronaut]

Jung Wooyoung x Male Reader

smut | friends-with-benefits to lovers | aromantic reader

Content Warnings: dom reader, sub wooyoung, pet names, edging/orgasm denial, traffic-light system (green all the way through)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE

Wooyoung is insatiable. You knew that before your arrangement was even a thought in your head. You had been friends now for more than a decade, so you were familiar with his ups and downs with relationships, and how needy he could be. But it’s one thing to know it in theory and another to know it in practice. 

It’s nearly four in the morning when your phone chimes with a text from him. This was the third night in a row he’d needed you. You were so tired, having worked hard all day. But you couldn’t say no to him. Especially when he looked so pretty and asked so nicely. 

Hyung can I come over please? Above his text was a selfie - he’s glowing with sweat from a long day of rehearsals. You smile to yourself. 

Of course.

When your response comes through so quickly, Wooyoung’s chest warms and he grins. You could be kind of aloof most of the time, but you never turned him down. Even before you started sleeping together, you were always there when he needed you. It made him feel like he was special to you. And for whatever reason, that felt good. Really good. 

You hear your door beep when he enters the code that disables the lock. You’re in your mall kitchen, drinking coffee while you wait for him. He enters your apartment, bundled up in a coat, a scarf, and a beanie. He doesn’t remove a single layer before he wraps his arms around your shoulders and bites into your neck. 

“Wooyoung,” you chuckle, voice rough with the early morning. Wooyoung couldn’t get enough of the way you sounded while the city slept. There was an unreal quality to your deep voice at these odd hours. Maybe it’s because he interrupts your sleep. You stand up from where you’re seated at your tiny dining table and spin so he’s facing you. Your massive hand rests on his hip as the other removes his beanie. “You should at least get comfortable before you accost me.”

Wooyoung snorts, because god, you’re such a nerd. 

“I am not accosting you,” he says. “You knew I was coming, and you know what I want.”

You hum and unwrap the scarf from his neck, draping it on the back of your chair. He watches you remove his layers, your lips quirked in a handsome smirk. He wants to bite you again. He wants to leave a mark that says you’re his. 

“You know,” you say, walking away from him to hang his coat up. His eyes follow you in the dim light. He admires the width of your shoulders and the length of your spine. “I think you’ll have to remind me what it is you want.” 

You’re looking at him now, arms crossed over your chest. Wooyoung’s eyes catch on the bit of skin that shows when your too-short sweater rides up with the gesture. He swallows and your eyes flicker to the bob of his adam’s apple. 

Your eyes meet and Wooyoung says, “I want your cock.” 

You snort, amused by the blunt way he says it, and walk over to him to gently tilt his chin with your finger. You lean down and touch your lips to his. His eyes close and he presses closer to you, but you step away. 

He whines and you smile. 

Wooyoung watches, half-dazed, as you walk towards your bedroom, lifting and removing your sweater. 

You look at him over your shoulder and gesture for him to follow you. He complies immediately. 

Once Wooyoung is in your room, you close the door. His eyes are fixed on the tattoo on your ribs. He’s thinking about tasting the salt of your skin. He want your hands on him. He wants you. 

“Wooyoung,” the way you say his name hits him hard. “Sit.” 

He holds your gaze as he sits on the bed, spreading his legs without thinking about it. He knows what that specific tone of voice means for him. It means he’s going to keep his hands to himself. It means you’re going to make him feel good. It means you’re in control.  

You cross the room and run your fingers through his hair. He hums, pleased. Your hands brush his hair out of his face, and he tilts his head to look up at you. Your thumb presses against his bottom lip. 

The way you move, so leisurely, just to tease him - it drives him crazy. His eyes lock with yours and he holds your gaze as you remove his joggers. You raise an eyebrow when you see he’s forgone any underwear. He wants to trace your features, but he won’t move because he doesn’t want to break the spell you’ve cast. 

Your hands follow the curves of his calves up to his thighs. You feel the goosebumps that arise where you touch him; you hear his breath hitch when your fingers linger tauntingly close to where he wants you. 

“Hyung,” he whines. 

Wooyoung lifts his arms for you when you pull his shirt over his head. Your hands return to his waist and you manhandle him further up the bed. He leans back on his elbows, waiting for you to do something. Your eyes follow the line of his body down to where he’s already hard and leaking. You fight a smug smile. He’s so easy to work up. 

“You’re so pretty, Woo,” you praise him. 

You lean over him, one knee propped up on the bed, and spread a hand out on his stomach to push him down so he’s fully reclined. You lightly drag your nails down his abdomen and then loosely wrap your hand around him. He groans when you press your thumb against the tip of his dick. 

“Already so hard for me,” you tease, letting him go. 

“Not for long if you keep taking your sweet time,” he sasses you. 

You raise a brow and leave him on the bed with his legs spread. He props back up on his elbows ready to tell you how mean you are. You hold his gaze as you walk around to the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube. His eyes flicker to the way your veined hands hold the bottle. God, your hands are gorgeous. 

“I thought you like it when I take my time with you.” 

“I’ve been waiting all day,” he tells you. “I’ve wanted you all day.” 

“Then you can wait a little longer.” 

His dick twitches at the confidence in your soft voice. It isn’t fair. You’re a god to him; tall and lean, adorned in black and red ink. He adores the hawklike lines of your eyes and nose, and the perfect width of your mouth. 

Fuck, he’s so in love with you. 

The thought strikes him as the cold lubricant drips onto his cock. It’s a shock of electricity up his spine. He shivers when your hand wraps around him and gives his length long, languorous strokes. 

His fingers grip the dark sheet beneath him. You know exactly how to set his every nerve on fire. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. 

“Please,” he moans. “I want more.” 

“Can’t you be a good boy for me?” You ask, pausing your ministrations on his cock. He whimpers. 

“Please,” he begs. 

“Patience, Woo.” 

You continue to stroke him until his hips involuntarily buck into your grip. You hold him down with one hand on his lower abdomen while you continue to massage him. 

“Hyung, I’m gonna cum,” he pants. 

“Hm?”

He makes an affirming noise that chokes off into a whine when you tighten your grasp around him, interrupting his pending orgasm. He’s trembling, eyes tightly shut. His hand bolts to your wrist. 

“You’re so mean,” he groans. “You’re the devil.” 

You grin at his complaints. Your hand releases him and he immediately reaches for his cock. You catch his wrist in your hand and give him a look. 

“Color?” 

“Green,” he says, without hesitation. 

“Then be good.”

The command has his painfully hard dick twitching. He loves when you’re like this. He’s torn between misbehaving and following your orders, unsure if he wants your punishment or praise. He watches you spread lubricant on your fingers, anticipation like a taut rubber band in his stomach. 

With your dry hand, you spread his legs and drape one of them over your shoulder. Your fingers tease his entrance and his eyes screw shut, waiting and waiting. You know he always comes to you prepared. You imagine him alone in a studio shower, cleaning and stretching himself, thinking of you. You’re able to slip two fingers into him immediately. 

Wooyoung gasps softly and you smirk. 

You spend time working him up. You know you’ve reached his prostate when his stomach clenches and his thighs begin to tremble. He whimpers your name, and you luxuriate in the color his beautiful skin turns when he’s feeling good. 

“So fucking pretty,” you praise him and he tightens around your fingers. 

With your free hand you tap the thigh that’s over your shoulder, and then guide it down to the bed. He watches you closely, eyes glassy but alert, as you shift so that you can take him into your mouth. 

“Hyung, please,” he shivers when you suck him. “I can’t.”

He can’t think. He can’t control himself. He can’t believe how good you are to him. 

You add a third finger and his breathing shallows. He warns you that he’s going to cum, and for a blissful ten seconds, he thinks you’re going to let him. But just as you did before, you grip him tight enough that he can’t release. 

He’s overwhelmed and desperate. His back arches and he drapes his right arm over his eyes to hide his tears. You remove your hands from him and move so that you’re hovering above him. You tenderly wrap your hand around his neck without adding pressure. 

“What’s your color?” You ask him, voice low and soothing. 

“Green,” he breathes the word, chest heaving with exhaustion. “Green. Green.” 

Satisfied with his answer, you gently lift his arm from his face and kiss his forehead, and his nose, and his chin, and his neck, and his chest. 

Why do you treat him so well? How do you make him feel like the only person in your world? You agreed to take it easy - easy and mutually beneficial - but this doesn’t feel casual. When’s he’s with you like this, he can believe that he’s your one and only love. That you’re not just close friends, but good and proper lovers. And fuck, he wants it to be real. It’s so easy to love you. He’ll take you however he can have you. Friends, lovers, it doesn’t matter. He just wants this, whatever it is, to last forever. 

Your warmth leaves him and he reaches for you, your name on his lips. 

You return to him long enough to give him a chaste kiss. You leave him to remove your sweatpants and put on a condom. Pride blooms in his chest when he sees how hard you are. You apply lube to your cock and come back to him. 

Wooyoung wraps an arm around your neck, pulling himself up to kiss you. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, give it to me. Please, hyung.” 

“Sh,” you shush him, smiling. “I’ve got you. Relax for me.” 

You rut against him until he whines, and then you finally guide yourself into him. He watches you watching yourself enter him, marveling at the length of your dark eyelashes. 

It takes you a minute or two to sink into him completely, and you give him an extra few breaths to get reacquainted with you. Wooyoung’s favorite and least favorite thing about having sex with you is that you always, always take your time. You fuck him like he doesn’t have to be back at the dorms in two hours or wake up for work in three; like you don’t have to go to your very grown up job tomorrow and be a very grown up professional; you fuck him like you have no other responsibility except to make him feel good. 

Wooyoung wraps his legs around your waist and begs you to move faster or harder or something. 

“Feeling bossy, little prince?” You tease him, slowing down and he can’t help but whine. “Hyung, please,” he begs. 

You laugh and his heart flutters like a hummingbird in his chest. You hug him to the bed and roll so that he’s on top of you. 

“If you want it that badly, take it.” You say, relaxing with your arms behind your head. 

Wooyoung groans. You’re infuriating, but he adores you. 

He rides your cock, with his hands on your thighs for leverage. He’s desperate to get off, but it’s not enough. He misses the warmth of your body on his. He stops moving, and his hands come to rest on your stomach. 

“Hyung,” he presses his forehead to your chest. “Please, help me. I can’t do it by myself.” 

You hug him with one arm and use the other to sit yourself up. You grip his ass and he clings to you. 

“Sh, I’ve got you, baby.” 

The pet name slips out of your mouth without hesitation. This is the first time you’ve called him baby. He likes it. 

You begin to move again and he sighs, relieved at the pressure and warmth in this position. He kisses your neck, biting marks into your skin that will turn his favorite shade tomorrow. Your hand wraps around his length and he moans at the added sensation. 

“Please, let me cum,” he gasps against your shoulder.

“Go ahead,” you say. “Cum for me.” 

His breath stutters and you feel him release on to your stomach. He tightens around you and it feels so good you might lose your goddamn mind. You pull out of him and push him down onto his back. He’s catching his breath when you remove your condom and finish on his abdomen. He looks gorgeous in white. 

Your exhaustion hits you like a truck. You flop onto your back, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Without thinking, you drop a hand to your stomach, and cringe when you feel Wooyoung’s cum. You lift your hand immediately, and he laughs breathlessly at your disgruntled expression. You laugh too and move to get up. 

“No, no, no,” he says, sitting upright and putting a hand out to stop you. “Let me, hyung.” 

He carefully leaves the bed so he doesn’t make an extra mess of anything, and enters your bathroom. He runs the faucet until it’s warm, and uses a wet rag to quickly clean himself. He gets a fresh rag and brings it out to you. In the meantime, you’ve stripped the designated sex sheet off of the bed. 

“Geez, hyung, sit down. Sit down,” he fusses over you. You sit on the edge of the bed with your feet on the ground. He pushes you gently so you’re laying on your back. He wipes you down until he’s satisfied. You’re already dosing off by the time he finishes. He feels a little guilty that he’s kept you up for so long. 

He needs to get back to the dorms, but he doesn’t want to leave you until he’s told you that he loves you. So he sets fifteen alarms on his phone to wake him up in an hour, and then picks up your legs and swings them onto the bed. He crawls in next to you and pulls the comforter up around you both. 

When his last alarm blares, you wake but Wooyoung doesn’t. You’re surprised to see him with you. You run the tip of your finger down the length of his nose which he scrunches.

“Wooyoung, you need to go,” you shake him awake and he squints at you. 

“Time’s it?” 

You glance at his lock screen, “6:16.” 

He nods through a big yawn. 

“Hyung, I’m gonna tell you something, okay?” 

You hum so that he knows you’re listening.

“I’m in love with you.” 

He says it so casually, that it doesn’t register as new information at first. Then you process what he’s saying. This is new. 

“Are you sure?” You ask and immediately cringe, because what a dumb fucking question. 

He nods, “Yeah. I didn’t really get that that’s how I’ve been feeling until, well, an hour ago. But I think I’ve been feeling it for a while. You don’t have to be in love with me too. And nothing’s really changed. But I wanted you to know.” 

You nod, and he watches your adam’s apple bob while you think. 

“I love you too, Wooyoung,” you say. “I love you as much as a I can love a person. But I don’t think that I love the way most people love.” 

Wooyoung looks at you with all the kindness in the world and asks you what you mean. 

“I never realized that people feel something different for their romantic partner than they do for their friends. I thought it was just, I don’t know, people deciding that this was their person.”

Your brows furrow with concentration. You’ve never vocalized your feelings this way before. You’ve never said the words out loud. 

“I-I’ve never experienced butterflies for someone. I’ve never felt like I needed to be with someone. I’ve never… I’ve never been in love with someone. But I love you so much, Wooyoung. I love being with you. But I don’t want to misrepresent the way I feel about you.”

You’re getting frustrated with yourself. Are you explaining it well? Does it sound like a rejection, because it isn’t. But how do you tell someone that you love them and want to be with them, but it’s not romantic for you? It barely makes sense to you. How can you expect him to understand?

“Hyung,” Wooyoung takes your hand in his. “Are you saying that you’re aromantic?” 

“Yeah, I think I am. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Wooyoung sits up and puts a comforting hand on your chest. “Hey - look at me - you don’t have to be sorry. I love our relationship as it is. I only wanted you to know how I feel about you. Nothing has to change.”

“But do you want things to change?” 

Wooyoung thinks for a long minute. And then he gives you the sweetest smile. 

“Honestly, I’d really like to be able to call you my partner. And it would make me happy if we could be in a closed relationship - you know, only sleeping with each other and all that. But being your friend is the most important thing to me. We don’t need to do anything differently in our relationship with each other.”

You nod, “I’d like to do that for you. I want to do that with you. I want to commit to you.” You know you probably sound redundant. But each statement feels different and important, so you say them confidently. 

Wooyoung brushes some of your hair out of your face, “I believe you.” 

He leans down to kiss you. 

“So, are we going to do this? Are we using relationship language?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We can do that.” 

You had never been a boyfriend before. You didn’t think you’d be very good at it, because you already give your friends everything you can, so what more could you offer? But seeing how happy Wooyoung is makes you happy too. So you’re going to try to be what he needs. And you’re grateful he’s going to give you the same.  

[antiromantic-astronaut]

[antiromantic-astronaut]

[antiromantic-astronaut]

Never forget 220814 Yunho!

[antiromantic-astronaut]

masterlist

A T E E Z ♡

3:03 am with wooyoung

san comforting his partner during a panic attack

T H E B O Y S ♡

the boyz react to their partner experiencing bipolar disorder

hyunjae comforting his partner during an anxiety attack

2:28 am with juyeon

11:19 am with hyunjae

10:33 pm with eric

11:42 pm with sunwoo

6:08 pm with hyunjae

E X O ♡

exo reacting to their partner coming out as non-binary

6:51 am with jongin

[antiromantic-astronaut]

choi san x gender neutral reader

summary: San's partner suffers a severe panic attack. This is how they get through it together.

content warnings: panic disorder (forgetting how to breathe and swallow), going non-verbal, forgetting words, guilt.

San checks his phone for the umpteenth time, and bites the inside of his cheek with worry. It's unlike you to not respond to a text for so long. He texted you this morning, wishing you well and telling you he loves you, and he hasn't heard back from you at all.

He tried calling you around 2 in the afternoon, and you didn't pick up. He looks at the time. It's half past 5 now. He'll be here recording for a few more hours. He decides to try calling you again when you respond to his text.

I'm sorry. Persimmon.

His heart aches. Persimmon is the word you use to let him know that you're not well. You've struggled with a panic disorder since you were a kid, and medication and therapy help to manage it most days. But some days, it gets bad. Often, those days render you nonverbal, so San designated a word for you to text him and let him know what's happening.

He's frustrated. Not because you're struggling, but because you didn't let him know sooner. He knows that it's because you don't want to burden him, but he's told you again and again that he wants to be there with you and for you, no matter what. It breaks his heart that when you're hurting so much that you can't speak, you don't expect anyone to help you.

He texts you back, I'm coming home. I love you.

He goes to Hongjoong and explains the situation to him, and together they talk with management. San gets the okay to leave early. He tells his members that he's sorry, and they reassure him that it's okay. They love him, they love you.

San changes out of his stage clothes and into something incognito so he can slip away without much notice.

I'm on my way. I'll be home in about 20 minutes.

When he gets to your apartment, he takes his shoes off and walks purposefully through the kitchen, the living room, and to the bedroom. But you're not in bed where he expects you to be.

The bathroom door is closed, so he calls your name and listens. He hears a soft reply and opens the door. You're sitting between the toilet and the wall with your forehead on your knees, and an ice pack on the back of your neck. He kneels next to you and takes a deep breath.

He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

"Can I hold you?" He asks. You squeeze his hand once for no. "That's okay. Can I get you some water?"

Two squeezes for yes. He assures you he'll be right back. He looks for your water bottle in its usual spot, but it's not there. He doesn't want to leave you alone for too long, so he settles for a mug.

When he gets back to you, you've started to cry. You're trembling and your breath is stilted, like each intake is only half completed.

He sits next to you on the cold bathroom floor and offers you water. You look up at him, but he can tell you're not seeing him. He takes your hand in both of his.

"Hey, you're safe," he says. "You're safe. I love you. You're safe."

You blink sluggishly, and pooled tears spill down your cheeks.

"San?" His name is a whispered question, like you're unsure of where you are.

"Yes, baby, it's me. You're at home with me, and you're safe."

He offers you water and you take a small gulp, but you forget how to swallow and choke. The panic in your eyes is terrifying. Now you can't remember how to breathe at all.

"Hey, hey, look at me," San brings your hand up to his chest and lays it flat so you can feel him breathing. "In," he takes a deep breath in. "Out. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4."

You breathe together for a few minutes, and then you try to take another sip of water.

"There you go," he praises you. "You're doing so well."

By the time your breathing has regulated, the ice pack on your neck is room temperature. San takes it from you and sets it next to the now empty mug.

"Is it okay if we go to bed?" He asks.

You take his hand and squeeze it twice. He slowly stands up and helps you do the same. He notices now that you're still in your pajamas. You never made it to work today. He sits you on the bed and says he'll be right back.

He refills your mug and places the ice pack in the freezer. He turns on the essential oil diffuser and lays down next to you.

"Can I...?" You ask, unable to remember the words for what you want, so you pat his chest.

"Of course. Come here," he says, opening his arms.

You lay on top of him and take a deep breath. He smells like vetiver and cedarwood. It's so soothing. He holds you tight enough to let you know he's got you, but loose enough that you don't feel restrained. Your eyes feel like they've been treated with sandpaper. You close them and they sting, but you will them to stay shut.

You fall asleep to the steadiness of San's heartbeat. He stays awake, fighting his own regrets. There are a lot of maybes that go through his mind, even though he knows that he couldn't have done more than he did.

In all honesty, he was surprised by this panic attack. It had been almost six months since the last time you'd had one. He took for granted that healing isn't a straight path to the finish line. That's something he remembers reading when he'd researched panic disorders after you first confided in him about your experiences. Healing could be chaotic and painful. He doesn't know what triggered this attack, and that scares him. How can he protect you from something he can't recognize as a threat?

You shift in his arms with a whimper. He's scared that you're having a nightmare, and he doesn't want you to wake up in a panic, so he gently calls your name until you wake.

"San?" You sit up and survey the room. He left a nightlight on for you. You look at the digital clock. It's just after 2 am.

"I'm here," he assures you, hand on your knee.

You're quiet for a minute, and then in a very small voice, you apologize. Your breath hitches, and tears begin to well. You're so sorry.

San immediately sits up and wraps his arms around you.

"Hey, you haven't done anything wrong. I love you. I'm here because I want to be here. I love you so much."

"I can't," you can't remember words. Your brain is static between your ears. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay. Let's breathe." He guides you through a breathing exercise. He asks you to describe something you hear. You tell him the ceiling fan is humming. He asks you what you smell. You describe the lavender essential oil and him. He taps on each of your finger tips, counting them out to you.

"I have ten fingers," you say.

"Ten perfect fingers," he kisses the back of your hand.

You hug him around his neck, calmer now than you've been in the last 24 hours. You know you'll have to do hard work in the morning. You'll have to reschedule with your therapist to an earlier date, you'll have to try to eat and keep it down, you'll have to attempt to identify what triggered this attack, you'll have to work through the guilt of pulling San into your mess. But gods, are you so grateful he's here.

"San," you pull away from him just a little bit. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you."

"Please," his voice cracked. "You haven't done anything wrong. I love you too. So much."

You cuddle up together and sleep for a while. You're both exhausted, but being together is like a promise that tomorrow will be better.

[author's note: i want you to know that if you suffer from an anxiety/panic disorder, i see you and i'm proud of you for surviving. not everyone has access to the help they need. i love you. you're not alone.]

[antiromantic-astronaut]

san cam :: logbook#87

[antiromantic-astronaut]

6:51 am

Jongin’s breath catches in his throat when he’s sees you for the first time through the camera lense on his phone. He’s taking a panoramic of the Han River and then there you are, taking your own picture of the late sunrise.

The rising light casts an orange highlight along your cheeks and you’re like a young god at the dawning of the world. He lowers his phone and takes in the moment. He knows he needs to introduce himself. He can’t explain why, but he can’t fight the feeling that he needs to know you.

He takes a deep breath and begins the rest of his life.

[antiromantic-astronaut]

10:33 pm

It's warm in Eric's arms as you play Stardew Valley on your Nintendo Switch, your sweetheart peeking over your shoulder and insisting on his tried-and-true methods of raking in coin.

"I'm telling you, truffle oil is where it's at."

"You may be right," you say, rolling your eyes. "But I prefer cheeses."

"Cheeses are nowhere near as lucrative," he insists. "So what's the appeal?"

"Cows and sheep are cuter than pigs."

Eric gasps and nearly pushes you out of his lap.

"You take that back."

"No," you challenge him, setting your paused game aside. "I stand by what I said."

"Pigs are precious," he says, glaring at you.

"Sheep are shweet," you counter.

"Pigs are pure."

"Sheep are shophisticated."

"Pigs are precocious."

"Cows are captivating."

"Pigs are pleasant."

"Cows are quaint."

Eric frowns, thinking over what you said. You know he's trying to spell out the word in English, and it's really cute how his nose scrunches in concentration. Finally he rolls his eyes and flicks you on the forehead.

"That's almost definitely not spelled with a c, you brat."

You laugh and flick him back.

"It's still alliteration," you shrug.

"But that's cheating," Eric says with the slightest of pouts.

"And adding an h to my other words wasn't?"

"That was different-"

The two of you could argue over this for hours, but instead you take his face in your hands and kiss him gently. He relaxes into your touch and brings you closer into himself. Arguing with you is fun.

Kissing you is better.

[antiromantic-astronaut]

giggly eric ! 

[antiromantic-astronaut]

[210927] eric ✸ :)

[antiromantic-astronaut]

11:19 am

Hyunjae watches you closely as you stir good intentions into the tea you prepared for breakfast. The fingers of his right hand delicately spin the moss agate bead on the bracelet on his left wrist. He treasures you and your morning rituals, and he’s so grateful you include him.

He may not label himself a witch, but he believes in you and your everyday magic. He feels the warmth and care you infuse into his tea as he goes about his day. He feels the calm and creative energy of the crystals you so lovingly place on his wrist or around his neck. He feels good on the days he’s able to spend the morning with you in light and peace and sweetness.

Hyunjae may not always understand the things you do, but he loves that you do them. And he hopes that he has enough magic in himself to make you feel just as protected and cared for.