c4shm0neyxxx

[c4shm0neyxxx]

SONG WRITING✨✨✨

Hiii guys ok so I was thinking abt making music. I have been thinking abt this for a while and I had finally decided that I should watch stuff abt making music. And one of the things I love most besides kpop is rap music. Ive only mentioned it ounce that I like Memphis rap and kinda dark rap music such as $uicideboy$ who are my inspiration for starting to write music.

I have been around rap music my WHOLE life and I have rapped like lyrics to a song like in my room alone an stuff😭 which Ik isn’t that serious ik but I think I do want to take it serious.

But the reason I’m sharing this is to really be updated with y’all is mainly bc I’m really excited to start doing this😭🙏🏻 but also to just keep myself motivated to this idea. If there are any tips or tricks for song writing that you know of or heard of or do PLZ LET ME KNOWWWWW

I do plan on making music and be serious abt this but I do not care if I “go viral” for making music. I am purely doing this for fun. I would like to put my music on SoundCloud tho😛 but yes thats it!!!!!

[c4shm0neyxxx]

i saw in ur tag in ur latest seongje fic that ur looking for requests and i've never done this before so bopefully this isn't that bad :)

seongje x f!reader just soft desperate (fluff/non-sexual) intimacy? just like.,, *yearning* please? if this doesn’t make sense / you don't like it i can come up with something else <3 i love ur writing! keep up the amazing work :D

Stay With Me

——

Heyyy thank you for requesting. This one is kinda short😭😭but anyway I hope you like it!!!!!

———

The night is too quiet.

The city outside hums faintly through the cracked window, but inside the apartment, it feels like the air itself has gone still. You watch Seong-je from the doorway, his broad shoulders hunched as he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. He hasn’t said a word in nearly an hour.

You know this silence. You’ve learned to read him in the stillness—the way his back rises and falls too quickly, the subtle tremor in his fingers as they rub absent circles against his knees. He’s fighting something inside his own head, and you’re not sure he’s winning tonight.

“Seong-je,” you whisper softly. Your voice sounds small in the heavy air.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even flinch, like your words barely reach him. That scares you more than anything.

You cross the room, each step careful, as if you’re approaching a wounded animal. When you sit beside him, the mattress dips, and finally, his eyes flicker toward you. His face is unreadable, but his hands—those always give him away. They twitch, curl, hesitate like they want to reach for you but don’t think they’re allowed.

“Talk to me,” you breathe.

His jaw flexes, but no words come out. His gaze drops to his own hands, and that’s when you see it—the faint shake in them. Not from fear of you, but from something deeper. From everything he’s been carrying for too long.

“Look at me,” you murmur gently, reaching out to cup his face. His skin is cool under your palm, his breath uneven as he finally, finally lets his eyes meet yours. And what you see there nearly breaks you.

He looks terrified. Not of you. Not even of himself. But of losing something he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve.

“I can’t…” His voice is hoarse, cracking as he forces the words out. “I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you.”

Your chest tightens painfully. God, the way he says it—it’s not just fear. It’s desperation, raw and unfiltered, the kind that comes from someone who’s had too much ripped away already.

You take his hands in yours, gently prying them open when you realize how tightly they’re curled into fists. His fingers are cold against your warm skin, trembling as you lace them through your own. “You’re not going to lose me,” you whisper fiercely. “Do you hear me? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Something cracks in him at that. His breath stutters, a choked sound leaving him that’s almost a sob, though no tears fall. Slowly, like gravity is pulling him, his forehead comes to rest against your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around him immediately, one hand cradling the back of his neck as if you can shield him from the world. He doesn’t just lean into you—he clings. His fists curl into the back of your shirt, pulling you as close as he can get, like if he holds tight enough, you won’t disappear.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, voice breaking on the last word.

You close your eyes against the burn of your own tears, pressing a trembling kiss to his temple. “Always,” you breathe into his hair. “I’m not leaving you, Seong-je. Not now. Not ever.”

For a long time, you just sit there, tangled together in the quiet. His breathing slowly evens out against your collarbone, though his grip on you doesn’t loosen. And you don’t make him. You hold him as long as it takes, letting him feel it—every word you promised him in the way your arms never let go.

The night stays quiet. But now, it’s no longer heavy. It’s warm. It’s the sound of two hearts beating desperately in sync, refusing to let go.

——-

[c4shm0neyxxx]

Glass Cage: part 12, “The Knife and the Name”

⸻

Geum Seong-je x Reader | vengeance realized, raw obsession, maternal fire, dark twist

⸻

Rain fell the night you finally moved.

Not a soft drizzle. Not a gentle storm.

The kind of rain that drowned sound. The kind that hid sins.

You stood in your bedroom, the knife on the bed. Beside it — the photo of him and your daughter.

You traced their faces with your fingertips before sliding the picture into your pocket.

⸻

Ji-won’s house sat at the end of a long, winding road. A nice place. Quiet.

Too quiet for the man who tore your family apart.

You parked two streets over. Walked in the dark. The knife felt heavy in your coat pocket, but your hand didn’t shake.

You weren’t scared.

You were focused.

⸻

The porch light was off.

You knew his patterns. His shifts. His grocery runs. You’d memorized his life in the weeks of planning.

Tonight, he was home. Alone.

You stepped onto the porch, water dripping off your hair. Your breath came out steady.

You knocked once.

⸻

The door opened a crack.

And there he was. Ji-won.

Older. Tired. Eyes widening the second he saw you.

“…Y/N?”

You smiled softly.

“Hi, Ji-won.”

And then the knife was at his throat.

⸻

You pushed him inside before he could yell.

The door slammed. Rain pounding outside.

“You ruined my life,” you whispered. Your voice wasn’t shaking. It was too calm.

“I—I was trying to save you—”

“Save me?” you laughed, but it was hollow. “You brought the wolves to my door. You took him away from me. You made my daughter grow up without her father.”

“He kidnapped you—”

“He loved me,” you snapped, pressing the blade harder to his skin.

His eyes darted to the knife.

“You don’t want to do this.”

You leaned closer, your breath hot against his ear.

“You have no idea what I want.”

⸻

And then — the twist.

His hand twitched. Not to fight. But to reach.

Slowly, he slid a folded piece of paper from his pocket and let it drop to the floor between you.

“I was going to find you,” he whispered. “Not to hurt you. To help you.”

“You’re lying.”

“They moved him last week. Higher security. But I… I know where.”

You froze.

Your grip on the knife trembled for the first time.

“Why would you tell me that?”

His voice was low.

“Because I’ve been dreaming of making it right for three years. And you just gave me the reason to finally do it.”

⸻

The rain grew louder.

You stared at him. At the paper between you. At the blade hovering over his throat.

And for the first time in years… you had a choice.

Kill the man who broke you.

Or use him to burn the world down and take back what was yours.

—-

Ji-won’s voice was shaking.

Not because of the knife at his throat.

But because of what he was about to say.

“It was never about you.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“Seong-je. He wasn’t supposed to walk free. He wasn’t supposed to stay hidden that long. They didn’t care who he was with. You were collateral. They’ve been watching you. Every. Single. Day.”

Your chest tightened, but you kept the blade pressed to his skin.

“You’re lying.”

“Go home. Look at the trees behind your house. Tell me you don’t see the cameras. Look at the stores you go to. They know what brand of milk your daughter drinks. They know the sound of your car when you pull into the driveway.”

Your grip on the knife faltered for half a second.

“Why are you telling me this?”

His eyes burned.

“Because you’re not safe. And because… I couldn’t live with it anymore.”

⸻

For a moment, the storm outside felt quieter.

You could hear your own heartbeat.

And then, somewhere between rage and grief, you stopped thinking.

Your hand moved on instinct.

A single, sharp motion.

The blade sank into his chest.

Ji-won’s eyes went wide. A sound — half breath, half shock — slipped from his mouth as his knees hit the floor.

You caught him as he fell, whispering into his ear:

“Then they’ll never see me coming.”

When the light left his eyes, the rain finally drowned everything else out.

⸻

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even breathe heavy.

You moved.

Fast. Clean.

You wiped everything you touched. Left no prints. Took the paper he dropped and shoved it deep into your coat pocket.

You walked out into the storm and didn’t look back.

⸻

By the time you reached home, your daughter was still asleep at your best friend’s.

You stood in the living room, dripping rainwater, staring at the knife in your hand.

You should’ve felt guilt. Horror. Something.

But all you felt was a strange, steady calm.

The kind that comes right before the world burns.

⸻

Later, you unfolded the paper Ji-won had given you.

An address. Coordinates. A schedule.

A name you didn’t recognize at the bottom of the page.

You read it once. Twice. Until the letters burned into your mind.

“You wanted a war,” you whispered to no one. “Now you’ve got one.”

You cleaned the blade. Put it back in the drawer beside your bed.

Kissed your daughter goodnight when you picked her up.

And for the first time in months, when she asked where her daddy was, you didn’t hesitate:

“Mama’s bringing him home soon.”

[c4shm0neyxxx]

hello!! i really enjoyed your glass cage series. will you be writing more parts for it?😮

HEYYYYY!!! it’s funny you say this cause I was thinking abt it lwky but now you say it i guess I will!!!!! 😜😜if there is any ideas y’all would like to see abt up coming parts, give me ideas and your thoughts🫣🫣😛

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“Mine to Hold” –

Geum seong je xfem!reader

(angsty comfort + possessive soft Geum Seong-je)

Ok umm I did a poll for what oneshot I was gonna do next and it was this one that y’all chose and I forgot abt it and decided to post a bang Chan draft and then I remembered this one win after I posted it (which was also in my drafts) so here it is!!!!!!!

——-

You hated fighting with him. The silence after was worse than any words. He had stormed out hours ago, and every tick of the clock since felt like it scraped against your ribs.

By the time you heard the front door click open, your hands were shaking. You were on your feet in seconds, heart pounding as you saw him standing there—hair messy from the wind, that guarded look on his face.

Before he could speak, you were on him, shoving yourself into his chest so hard he stumbled back a step. Your fists gripped his shirt, knuckles white.

“Don’t,” you choked out, voice cracking. “Don’t ever leave like that again. I can’t—”

His breath hitched, arms immediately wrapping around you like instinct. “Baby…”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy. “You’re all I have, Seong-je. Don’t make me feel like you’re gonna disappear.”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He just held your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the tears you didn’t realize had fallen. “I’m sorry,” he said, low and rough, almost like he was afraid you wouldn’t believe him. “I’m so damn sorry.”

You clung to him like he was air, your voice small against his chest. “Stay. Please. Just… hold me.”

He didn’t make you ask twice. He scooped you up and carried you to the couch, sitting down with you straddling his lap, his arms locking around your waist. He buried his face in your neck, breathing you in like he’d been starving.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, voice breaking just a little. “You hear me? You’re mine to hold. Always.”

Your fingers curled into his hair, finally letting yourself melt into him. “Promise?”

His lips brushed your temple, warm and steady. “Promise. Even if the whole world burns, I’m not letting you go.”

And right there, wrapped up in his arms, you believed him.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

Read, Not Replied

Bang Chan x Fem!Reader – Long One-Shot

⸻

You used to send him videos every day.

Morning hair and sleepy eyes, little “good morning” clips where your voice still rasped. Snippets of your meals, the music you listened to, you dancing around your room while brushing your teeth. Sometimes it was just the sky or your shoes, your cat meowing for attention, or you venting about your manager. Nothing grand. But they were pieces of you — pieces you hoped would make him feel close, no matter how far he was.

And Chan watched them. Liked every message, double-tapped the stories, heart-reacted to the videos — but that was all. No “miss you too,” no “that’s so cute,” no “babe, I’ll call you when I get five minutes.”

Just… silence with hearts.

Sometimes, after particularly rough days, you’d get your favorite coffee delivered with a little note: “For the prettiest girl in the world – I’m sorry I can’t be there.” Or a bouquet of tulips — your favorite — with no card, but you knew it was him.

And God, you were grateful. But flowers couldn’t hug you. And coffees didn’t kiss your forehead and remind you it was real.

You waited. You waited for the night where maybe, just maybe, he’d actually reply. Not just “seen at 2:43am.” Not just a gift.

But that night never came. And eventually… the videos stopped.

⸻

You felt like a ghost in your own relationship.

His fans got to see him more than you did. And that stung.

You weren’t clingy — you told yourself that constantly. But it was the loneliness. The doubt. That creeping, twisting ache in your chest whispering, maybe I’m just a side piece. A comfort. Someone he loves, but only when it’s convenient.

You told no one. Not your best friend, not your coworkers. Not even Felix, though he always texted you with that sweet “how’ve you been, sunshine?” energy.

You just kept going out. Posting pictures in group dinners, bright lights, pretty clothes, even if you felt dead inside.

And he always liked the pictures.

He’s still watching.

But he’s not seeing you.

⸻

That night you cracked.

It had been two and a half months since he’d called. Four weeks since you sent your last message. And tonight, you had just finished eating dinner alone — again — when you did something you told yourself you wouldn’t do.

You called him.

“The number you’re trying to reach—”

You hung up before the voicemail hit. Your throat was burning.

Fine. You weren’t gonna cry. You weren’t gonna cry—

But why did it feel like the love was only one-way?

You scrolled and scrolled and landed on Felix’s name.

You didn’t think. You just called.

And he picked up. He picked up on the second ring.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft. Warm. Concerned. “Everything okay?”

And that was all it took.

You broke.

Tears spilled, your voice cracking as you said, “Why is it so easy for you to pick up, but he can’t even text me back?”

You weren’t even sure if he understood half of what you said. The crying made your words all twisted and high-pitched and frantic. But Felix sat through it. No interruptions. No sighs. Just a quiet, listening presence.

“He likes my posts but won’t even ask if I’m okay. I feel like I’m… I feel like I’m nothing to him sometimes. Like he’s with me, but he’s not really with me, y’know?”

You heard Felix sigh, voice barely above a whisper. “I know, love… I’m so sorry you feel that way. I know how much you love him.”

You hiccuped. “I do. But I can’t keep trying to stay in a relationship that doesn’t feel real anymore. I don’t wanna give up, but… it hurts, Lix.”

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “He needs to hear this. I swear, I’ll make sure he does. And whatever happens after… I’ve got you. Okay?”

You sniffled. “Okay.”

You wiped your tears, ended the call, and dropped your phone.

Then it rang again.

Chan.

You froze. Stared at the screen like it burned. Your heart slammed in your chest.

You picked up.

“…Hello?” your voice was raw.

“Baby?” His voice cracked immediately. “What’s going on? Felix told me—”

But before he could finish, everything exploded out of you.

“Why is it so hard for you to just text me back?” you yelled through sobs. “Do you know how humiliating it feels to be your girlfriend and still feel single? I’m always texting, always updating you, always waiting like a damn puppy — and you give me nothing! Flowers don’t make me feel better, Chan. They just remind me you’re not here.”

Silence. Just your sniffling and the sound of your heart breaking in your own ears.

When he spoke again, his voice was choked.

“I’m so sorry. God, Y/N, I didn’t know it was this bad…”

He took a breath. You could hear it shake.

“I thought if I liked the messages and watched everything, it was enough. I didn’t want to text if I didn’t have time to really talk. I didn’t want to half-ass it. But now I realize that even something would’ve been better than silence. You’re right. You deserve more. You deserve so much more.”

You swallowed hard. “Then why—?”

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted. “Because this job eats everything. I come home exhausted and guilty and I miss you so much it physically hurts. But I put off calling because I didn’t want to sound tired or make you think I wasn’t happy to talk to you. I thought sending food or flowers was a way to show I still cared. But I know that’s not enough.”

He paused. You could hear the quiver in his voice.

“I’ll come see you this weekend. No matter what. I’ll make it happen. I promise.”

You let out a breath. “You better,” you teased weakly.

He chuckled softly through what sounded like a sniffle. “I will. I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered.

And when the call ended, you sat there — drained, but lighter.

⸻

Three days later.

You got home from work. Your feet ached, your makeup was half melted, and all you wanted was to shower and crawl into bed. You tied your hair up and began your night routine.

Toothbrush in your mouth, you heard it.

The front door unlocking.

You froze.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you padded down the stairs barefoot, toothbrush in hand.

And there he was.

Standing in the entryway.

Hoodie. Sweatpants. Duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Looking tired and soft and real.

You dropped everything and stared at him. Your eyes welled with tears.

He opened his arms.

And you ran.

You collided into him like your body had been waiting for it for years. He held you so tight, your feet nearly lifted off the floor. You sobbed into his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie like if you let go, he’d vanish.

He whispered into your hair, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

And in that silence, you finally felt something you hadn’t felt in months.

Home.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“Welcome Home, Love”

Pairing: I.N (Yang Jeongin) x fem!reader

Genre: Domestic fluff, soft romance

Present day, shared apartment, post-tour reunion. Again writing kpop stuff😋😋😜

⸻

The apartment felt full again.

It wasn’t just the presence of an extra pair of shoes by the door or the suitcase half-unpacked by the couch—it was Jeongin. His energy. His soft laugh when he nearly tripped over your cat. His voice echoing from the kitchen as he helped you dry the dishes, insisting he wasn’t that tired despite the dark circles under his pretty eyes.

He was finally home.

After two months of long-distance calls, midnight texts, and squinting through pixelated video chats with dodgy Wi-Fi, he was here—in your shared little apartment, in the warmth of your arms, smelling like hotel shampoo and airplane air, and still somehow like Jeongin. Your Jeongin.

Dinner had been easy. You’d made his favorite—something warm and comforting that he always asked for when he was too tired to think. He sat on the counter while you cooked, legs swinging, hoodie sleeves pushed up, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the world.

Now, hours later, you were both curled up in bed, the late-night silence humming around you like a lullaby. The movie had ended a while ago, but neither of you had moved to turn off the TV. The credits had long stopped scrolling. The glow of the screen painted soft shadows across the bedroom as Jeongin held you, his chest against your back, arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“I missed this,” he whispered against the curve of your neck, voice raspy with sleep and emotion.

You smiled softly, your hand resting over his as it laid gently on your waist. “You missed cuddling me or watching cheesy rom-coms until 1 a.m.?”

“Both,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin, “but mostly just you.”

You turned in his arms until you were facing him, his sleepy face barely visible in the dim light. His hair was messy, his lashes long and resting against his cheeks, and that familiar, soft expression was back—the one he always gave you when he was completely, unapologetically in love.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you said quietly, brushing your fingers along his cheek.

He nodded a little. “It didn’t feel like home without you.”

His voice cracked slightly, like the months of schedules and stress and standing in front of thousands of people had finally caught up to him now that he was safe in your arms. He pulled you closer, burying his face in your shoulder.

You held him tighter.

“I kept your hoodie,” you whispered. “Wore it to sleep almost every night.”

Jeongin chuckled softly, the sound muffled by your shirt. “So that’s why it smells like your shampoo.”

You grinned into the crook of his neck. “You love it.”

“I do,” he sighed. “I love everything about you.”

He tilted his head just enough to press a lazy, lingering kiss to your forehead. His hands found yours under the blankets, fingers naturally lacing together, fitting like a habit he’d never forgotten.

Outside, the world was quiet. Inside, in that small pocket of shared space, it was peace. Soft breathing, slow heartbeats, the subtle thump of rain starting on the window.

“Are you okay?” you whispered after a while.

Jeongin nodded against you. “Yeah. Just… never realized how much I needed this. Needed you.”

You leaned in and kissed him gently—no urgency, no desperation, just the kind of kiss that says I’m here, I waited, I love you.

He smiled drowsily afterward, eyes half-lidded. “If I fall asleep, don’t leave, okay?”

“I’ll never leave,” you whispered.

“I know,” he mumbled, voice trailing off as he finally let go, letting the exhaustion pull him under with his arms still wrapped around you.

And you stayed like that. Together. Warm. Home.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

Hi! I really love your stories. I was wondering… what if Si-eun witnessed the reader’s $uicide. like he finding her in the bathtub with her wrists cut? Maybe he finds her after she already died. You’re completely free not to write this, I understand it’s a very sensitive subject.

“Still Warm”

Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Genre: Angst | Tragedy | Hurt/No Comfort

Content warning: Suicide (graphic aftermath), grief, trauma response, mental health themes. Please read with caution.

⸻

He hadn’t meant to come over.

She hadn’t texted back all day, but that wasn’t unusual. She’d been distant lately, tired, slower to smile. He’d been worried—sure—but not enough.

Not enough.

His phone buzzed earlier with a reminder: “Dinner at your place tonight :)” She set it last week. He told her to come over anytime.

So when she didn’t show, he went to hers.

It was habit. It was love. It was the need to see her, just to make sure.

The door was unlocked.

⸻

“[Y/N]?”

His voice echoed through the apartment. It was too quiet. Lights off, no music, no sign of life. Her shoes by the door were soaked from last night’s rain. She must’ve gotten in late.

His stomach tightened.

He walked further in.

“[Y/N], are you here?”

Still nothing. That gnawing feeling in his chest dug deeper. He stepped over the threshold into the hallway, toward the faint light spilling from the bathroom.

The door was cracked open.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound came before the sight did.

Then he saw her.

⸻

The tub was half full. Water tinted pink.

Her body slumped in the water, head resting against the porcelain, wrists open and limp over the rim.

The razor was still floating.

Her lips parted, eyes barely open.

And her skin—

It wasn’t cold yet.

Still warm.

Still warm.

⸻

“[Y/N]?” His voice broke like glass.

He dropped to his knees on the tile, hands shaking as he reached in without thinking, cradling her face, water splashing over his sleeves.

“Hey—hey—wake up.”

He tapped her cheek, trying not to panic, trying to remember the emergency steps, something—anything.

She didn’t move.

“[Y/N], please,” he whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to will her back into her body. His heart raced, but hers wasn’t there. Just skin. Just silence.

Then he saw the blood on his hands.

Sticky. Staining.

He looked down again.

That’s when it really hit.

She wasn’t waking up.

Not now.

Not ever.

⸻

He screamed.

It tore out of him, raw and ugly and from a place he never knew existed. His knuckles hit the floor. The side of the tub. The wall. Anything to dull the sound of his own voice.

Tears came fast and hard. He clung to her body, sobbing into her hair like a child, begging—

“I’m sorry—why didn’t you tell me—why didn’t I see it—why didn’t I stop it—”

He didn’t leave her side for hours.

Even when the water went cold.

Even when the blood congealed.

Even when her name was nothing but a whisper in the empty apartment.

⸻

Later, they’d say he found her “in time” — to call for help, to give a statement.

But for Si-eun, he will always remember one thing:

She was still warm.

And he’ll wonder, for the rest of his life, if he had just come earlier.

If maybe—

Just maybe—

She would’ve been warm enough to save.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“The Devil You Loved”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, obsession, manipulation, betrayal, toxic love, emotional dependency, mild gore, criminal themes

All I gotta say is umm you’re gonna probably want to sit down for this one.

⸻

You never asked him why the scars on his hands looked like battle lines—why his knuckles always seemed just one fight fresh. You just accepted him. The way his voice turned velvet when he talked to you. The way he’d vanish for days and show up with blood on his collar and apologies in his eyes.

You loved him like an addiction: slow, desperate, and inevitable.

And he loved you back—feral, possessive, like you were the last good thing in a world that had beaten the kindness out of him.

You’d always wondered what he was hiding.

You just never expected the truth to ruin you.

⸻

It started with a knock on the door.

You pulled open the latch, expecting Seong-je with tired eyes and a bruised smile. Instead, there was a woman. Red lips. Expensive coat. A scar across her cheek that she wore like a badge.

“You’re her?” she asked. “The girl he’s been hiding?”

“…Who are you?”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The one he left behind.”

⸻

You confronted him that night.

She said things—about his past, about blood on his hands that wasn’t from street fights. About a body that was never found. About how he ran, changed his name, buried who he was.

“Seong-je,” you whispered, shaking. “Tell me she’s lying.”

He didn’t.

He just looked at you like you were glass he’d already shattered.

“I did what I had to do,” he said.

“And what was that?” Your voice cracked. “Kill someone?”

He stepped closer, eyes unreadable. “Protect someone.”

You backed away.

“I need air.”

“Don’t leave,” he said lowly. “Not like this. Not until you know everything.”

But you were already grabbing your keys. His voice followed you out like a curse.

⸻

You stayed with a friend for a week. No contact. No messages.

You missed him like a wound misses the knife.

Until one night, the girl from before found you again. This time, she wasn’t smiling.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said. “He didn’t just kill for you. He killed because of you.”

⸻

The puzzle unraveled in pieces.

Years ago, she and Seong-je were part of the same gang—tight-knit, violent, loyal only to blood. He tried to leave. They wouldn’t let him. She was the one who told them where he was hiding.

But he got to her first.

“Only he didn’t kill me,” she said bitterly. “He just made sure I’d never talk.”

And now?

“I want him to pay,” she said. “And you’re going to help me.”

⸻

You thought about it.

Thought about the bruises you’d kissed on him. The nights he cried in his sleep. The way he’d hold you like he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

But you also thought about the lies. The blood. The things he’d never told you—like maybe he didn’t want to be saved. Maybe he just wanted you to fall with him.

So you agreed.

⸻

You met her in an abandoned warehouse—the kind where echoes had memories.

She handed you a recorder. “Get him to confess.”

“I can’t—”

“You want the truth, right?” she said. “Here’s your chance.”

So you did it. You called him. Asked him to meet you.

And like always, he came.

⸻

“Y/N…” he breathed, the second he saw you. “You’re safe.”

You wanted to melt into his arms. Instead, you stood firm.

“Tell me everything,” you said. “No lies. No games.”

He hesitated. Then: “Fine. You want the truth?”

And he told it.

About the night he ran. About the man who hurt his brother. About how he made sure that man would never hurt anyone again.

“I buried him,” Seong-je said. “With my own hands. I’d do it again.”

Your hands shook as you pressed stop on the recorder.

⸻

You never got to hand it over.

Because the next night, she was found dead.

Throat slit. Recorder missing. Police ruled it gang retaliation.

You knew better.

You knew what Geum Seong-je was capable of.

⸻

He came home like nothing had happened.

You sat on the couch, heart like thunder, staring at him.

“You killed her,” you whispered.

He didn’t deny it.

“She was going to ruin you.”

“No,” you said. “She was going to save me. From you.”

And then you asked the question that had been burning your throat for days.

“Would you hurt me, too?”

He looked at you for a long time. Then—

“I’d never hurt you.”

A pause.

“But I’d hurt for you.”

⸻

You left that night.

But he followed.

Not immediately. Not with violence.

With letters. With memories. With late-night calls you never answered. With old songs he knew you couldn’t ignore. With gifts left on your doorstep that reminded you of your first date.

Until, one night, you snapped.

You opened your door—and he was there. Soaked in rain. Drenched in grief.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said.

He looked at you, trembling. “I don’t know how to stop.”

And you didn’t know how to stop loving him either.

⸻

It wasn’t forgiveness.

Not really.

But it was 3AM, and he looked like a ghost of the boy who used to bring you strawberry milk and bruised promises.

You let him in.

He kissed you like a sinner at the altar.

And you let yourself believe, for just one more night, that monsters could be loved.

⸻

Three months later, you get a letter in the mail.

No return address.

Inside is a photo.

Grainy. Blurry.

Of Seong-je standing over the girl he said he didn’t kill.

Alive.

Bleeding.

Smiling.

The photo’s caption:

“You helped me get rid of her. You just didn’t know it.”

And beneath it, a second note, in his handwriting:

“Now you can’t leave me either.”

————

Part two anyone🤷‍♀️👀👀

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“This Is Me Confessing (For the Fifth Time)”

Bangchan x fem!reader

Context:Reader has a big, not-so-secret crush on Chan, but has no idea he’s been trying (and failing) to confess to her for months. Add oblivious chaos, mutual pining, and soft romantic tension. 💌✨

⸻

You were a walking crush.

At least, according to the rest of Stray Kids.

The way you lit up whenever Bang Chan entered a room, the way you laughed too hard at his dad jokes, and the way you stuttered like a broken mp3 file when he got too close.

You’d been friends with the group for over a year now — Chan introduced you as a mutual from Australia. At some point you became their honorary group chat gremlin, ramen night planner, and occasional heart-thief. Especially for Chan.

Too bad you were convinced he’d never like you back.

You were just the “friend with the cute outfits and loud laugh,” right?

Wrong.

You were so wrong it hurt.

⸻

“Hyung, are you actually trying to confess again today?” Felix asked, plopping down beside Chan on the couch.

Chan groaned into his hoodie. “I’ve tried, like, four times. She doesn’t notice. Ever.”

Han looked up from his ramen. “Didn’t you try to give her your hoodie last week and she said, ‘No thx I already stink’? That was so tragic.”

Chan threw a cushion at him. “She said it with love!”

Seungmin passed by. “Are you sure she doesn’t know? Because she stared at your arms during the last practice like she was trying to hypnotize them.”

Chan flushed. “She probably thinks they’re… funny looking. Or something.”

I.N blinked. “You’re delusional. She’s clearly obsessed with you.”

“Not more than I’m obsessed with her,” Chan mumbled.

“…That’s true,” Changbin muttered, sipping his water.

⸻

Meanwhile, you were panicking on FaceTime with your friend.

“I can’t breathe when I’m around him! He was literally just trying to pass me a water bottle and I dropped it. Then we both reached down at the same time and I HIT MY HEAD ON HIS SHOULDER.”

Your friend blinked. “So basically you had a meet-cute with your crush and then exploded?”

“YES.”

⸻

Later that evening, Chan invited you to hang out at the dorm while the rest of the members were “conveniently” out for the night.

You were too nervous to ask why he was wearing your favorite hoodie of his. Or why he kept looking at you like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

The tension in the room was so soft it felt breakable.

“Y’know,” Chan said after a while, messing with the strings of his hoodie, “if I told you I liked someone, but I’d tried to confess four times and they didn’t notice… what would you say?”

You looked up from your tea, trying to seem normal despite the way your stomach backflipped.

“I’d say maybe you’re not being clear enough?”

Chan leaned in slightly. “So… if I told her that I liked her laugh? That her voice calms me down after hard days? That I keep replaying the way she says my name in my head like it’s a song—would that be clear?”

Your heart stopped.

“Chan—”

“That’s still too vague?” he teased, smiling nervously. “Okay. What if I told her that I’ve liked her since she fell asleep during our movie night and drooled on my hoodie—”

“Chan…—”

“—and I’ve been trying to tell her, but she’s too busy thinking I don’t like her back?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Wait. You mean me?”

He blinked. “Oh thank God.”

You gaped. “I thought you were—like—just being sweet! You’re sweet to everyone!”

“I’m not sweet to everyone the way I’m sweet to you,” he said, scooting closer. “I’m not just buying extra snacks or writing little notes for everyone. Just you.”

Your chest felt like it was going to burst.

“I’ve had a crush on you for so long,” you breathed. “I thought I was being so subtle.”

“You were about as subtle as a flashing neon sign,” he grinned. “Just like me.”

There was a pause.

Then, softly, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded before your brain even caught up. “Please.”

⸻

It wasn’t fireworks or dramatic music.

It was better.

It was warm and slow and real — like all the tension of months just melted between your lips. Like you were finally letting go of every doubt you ever had.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

What in the sieun is this? PT2

———-

Someone asked for a pt2 so here it is hope you like it!!!!!!🫶🏻🫶🏻😜

—-

The news spread faster than a gossip account on speed.

By the end of the week, everyone knew.

Si-eun — the cold, quiet, emotionally-unavailable, “probably has no feelings” Si-eun — had a girlfriend. And not just any girl.

You.

The girl who smiled at everyone in the hallways. The girl who once gave Humin a Band-Aid when he got a paper cut. The girl with the laugh that made people turn around in the cafeteria just to hear it again.

Si-eun. And you.

It didn’t make sense.

And to the three boys who had been there since Day 1 (of his socially-inept era), this was more than just surprising.

This was world-shattering.

⸻

“Okay,” Gotak said, pacing in front of the other two at lunch. “We’ve gathered intel. We’ve analyzed the footage. We’ve accepted the relationship. But there’s one final mission.”

“Meeting her,” Juntae nodded.

“Face to face,” Humin agreed. “Like real friends.”

“Like real brothers,” Gotak corrected, slamming his hands down. “We owe it to Si-eun to properly assess her—”

“You mean interrogate her?” Juntae asked.

“No!—Yes. Kind of. Just to make sure she’s not secretly evil.”

“She literally handed me tissues when I sneezed,” Humin muttered. “I think she’s good.”

⸻

Si-eun’s POV: That Morning

You were leaning against the wall near the bike racks when Si-eun arrived, hoodie up, earbuds in, looking like he hadn’t slept (but still annoyingly attractive). He stopped when he saw you.

You smiled up at him. “Hi, boyfriend.”

He blinked. “Still not used to that.”

You laced your fingers with his. “Well, get used to it. Because you’ve got plans.”

“…What kind of plans.”

You grinned. “Your friends wanna meet me. Officially.”

His face immediately shifted into that expressionless “I’m internally dying” look. “Why?”

“They’re curious,” you laughed. “Apparently I’ve ‘softened you.’”

He sighed like he was preparing for battle. “This is going to be a disaster.”

⸻

The Lunch Table

You approached the table with Si-eun beside you, hand in hand. Gotak’s jaw dropped like a cartoon character. Juntae elbowed Humin so hard he choked on his rice.

“Hi,” you said sweetly. “Mind if I join?”

“PLEASE,” Humin said, scooting so fast you thought he’d slide off the bench.

You sat between him and Si-eun. He looked… tense.

Very tense.

“Wow, you’re real,” Juntae said in disbelief. “Like not a hologram.”

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “Though Si-eun did try to keep me hidden like one.”

Si-eun gave you a warning glance, but it was soft. Like he couldn’t even fake being annoyed around you.

“Okay, rapid-fire questions,” Gotak said, holding up a notebook. “Favorite snack?”

“Gummy bears.”

“Opinion on math?”

“Cursed.”

“Would you take a bullet for Si-eun?”

You blinked. “I’d fight the bullet.”

There was a pause. Gotak closed the notebook slowly.

“…I like her.”

“I love her,” Si-eun muttered under his breath.

Your eyes widened. The table went silent.

Si-eun blinked. Realized what he just said.

Juntae choked on his drink. Gotak slapped the table. “DID HE JUST—”

Humin slammed his tray down. “HE SAID IT. IN PUBLIC. I’M NOT OKAY.”

You turned to look at Si-eun, cheeks warm. “You love me?”

He looked away, ears red. “Regretting my life choices.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. He froze.

Now the boys were screaming.

Like, literally screaming.

“OH MY GOD.”

“SHE KISSED HIM.”

“SI-EUN’S GONE.”

“He’s never recovering from this.”

Si-eun looked like he was mentally floating through another dimension.

You rested your head on his shoulder. “You’re cute when you panic.”

“I am never bringing you around them again.”

“Too late,” you whispered. “You’re stuck with me now.”

⸻

After Lunch

The four boys walked together after school, you slightly ahead as you texted someone.

“She’s cool,” Humin said, finally exhaling.

“Too cool for him,” Gotak nodded.

“Hey,” Si-eun muttered.

“I mean, in a good way!” Gotak added quickly. “She makes you less terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Juntae said, grinning. “We’ve never seen you smile that much.”

“You should do it more.”

Si-eun looked toward you — the way you turned to make sure he was still behind you, the way you smiled the second your eyes met his — and he couldn’t help it.

He smiled.

Just a little.

And maybe that was enough.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“Your Voice, My Favorite Sound”

Pairing: Jongseob x Fem!Reader

Ahhh . Finally writing kpop stuff. Hope you like!!!!!!!!

⸻

The low hum of the speakers filled the room, not too loud, not too soft—just enough to wrap around the two of you like a blanket.

You sat cross-legged on the small studio couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, watching Jongseob lean over the control board. His expression was serious, but his eyes kept flicking back to you, like he couldn’t help himself.

“This is the new one?” you asked, tilting your head as the beat rolled out, layered with soft piano and a subtle bass drop that tugged at your chest.

He nodded without looking, fingers adjusting a few levels before he finally spun his chair toward you.

“I wanted to show you this part.” He tapped the space bar, and a verse began—his voice.

Smooth, rich, a little raspy.

It was slower than the group’s usual tracks. More personal. It sounded like a late-night confession whispered between tangled sheets.

The lyrics weren’t just poetic—they were you. The way you talked. The way you laughed. He hadn’t said it outright, but you knew.

You looked up, and he was already watching you.

“You wrote that?” you asked softly.

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink. “Yeah. I mean… I was just messing around, but—yeah.”

The silence stretched between you like a thread, warm and nervous and full of unspoken meaning.

You stood up slowly, walked over to where he was still sitting in his chair. You didn’t say anything, just slid your arms around his shoulders and leaned your head against his.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard,” you whispered.

He smiled—one of those shy, slightly crooked ones that melted you every time. “It’s because you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever written about.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re getting too smooth, Mr. Rapper.”

He laughed, then reached up to tug you closer again, gently guiding you to sit sideways in his lap. “Nah,” he murmured. “Only with you.”

He hit play again. The song kept playing, looping the chorus, filling the small studio with this little world he’d created. Yours and his.

You rested your head against his chest, letting the music and the bass of his heartbeat sync together, and it hit you just how deeply he saw you—not just as a girlfriend, but as someone he let into his creative world.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” you said, laughing through the sting in your eyes.

“Please don’t,” he teased, holding you closer. “I can’t focus when you get all soft on me.”

“You literally wrote a love song for me.”

“Touché,” he smirked.

And then you both just sat there, wrapped in music, arms, and everything unspoken that didn’t need words.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

hi i love you work

since you did seungje and siun finding reading sh scars (and your work is amazingg) i was wondering if you could make that for baek dongha or do seongmok

“Don’t Look Away”

Pairing: Baek Dongha x Fem!Reader

CW: Mentions of self-harm scars, emotional vulnerability

Thank you for requestingggg!!!! And srry for taking a while. Also guys what other stuff would you like to see. I was thinking of starting to do kpop oneshots and Squid Game so if you want that dont be scared to ask 🫶🏻

⸻

It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

You didn’t even think he’d notice — not in the dim lighting of his room, with the movie playing on his cracked TV and Dongha half-focused, half-dozing next to you. But you had peeled off your jacket because it was too hot, and for once, you forgot to wear long sleeves underneath.

Just a t-shirt. Just arms. Just scars.

You caught it before he did — the subtle stiffening beside you, the way his fingers stopped tapping on his phone. You didn’t want to turn your head. Didn’t want to see the way his gaze fell silent.

But he spoke before you could run.

“Wait… What’s that?”

His voice was low. Confused. Almost careful.

You froze. Every cell in your body screamed to lie.

“Nothing,” you said, too fast. “It’s—old stuff. Doesn’t matter.”

Dongha didn’t say anything. He sat up straighter, resting one elbow on his knee as he leaned toward you, gaze sharp. He wasn’t mad — not really. But he wasn’t soft either. He didn’t know how to be.

“Don’t do that,” he muttered. “Don’t brush it off.”

You curled your arms over your chest like a shield. “It’s not like you care.”

That made him snap. Not loud — but his eyes darkened.

“I do care. Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

You tried to smile, but it shook too much. “Because they’re ugly. Because I was stupid. Because it’s over now and I don’t want you to look at me like that.”

His jaw clenched. You could see it — the war behind his eyes. Dongha didn’t deal well with emotions. He was better with fists, better with someone to blame. But he couldn’t hit this. He couldn’t fight what you did to yourself.

So instead… he reached out.

Slow, awkward, but honest. His fingers barely brushed your wrist, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said, almost teasing — but the softness in his voice betrayed him. “You think scars make you weak?”

You blinked. Didn’t trust yourself to speak.

He gave a half-smile. One of the rare ones — small and crooked. “You’re not weak. You’re still here.”

You looked down. He gently turned your wrist over, thumb running across a faded line.

“I won’t ask why,” he said. “Not unless you want to tell me. But… don’t hide them from me like I’d hate you for it.”

You met his gaze. His face was so close now, his brows furrowed like this hurt him, too.

You whispered, “I didn’t think I deserved anyone to care.”

And that’s when Dongha finally wrapped his hand around yours, firm but steady. Protective.

“You do. Don’t ever think you don’t.”

For the first time in a long time, you believed it.

⸻

Later that night, he didn’t let go of your hand once.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

Can you do a baku version of him finding out about readers sh scars?

“Still Here”

Pairing: Park Humin (Baku) x Reader

CW: Self-harm scars mentioned (no graphic details), emotional vulnerability, comfort

2 post in one day😱😱😱jk I had this in my drafts for a while, though I’d just post it😭😭😭(don’t forget to check out my blog update also😏😏)

⸻

You never meant for him to see them.

Not because you didn’t trust him—Humin was steady, grounding in a way you didn’t think anyone could be. But it was just… hard. Those marks weren’t just scars. They were stories. Days you didn’t want to remember. Battles you barely survived.

So you always wore long sleeves. Even in the summer. Even when he’d teasingly pull at the cuff of your hoodie and ask, “Aren’t you dying in that?”

You’d laugh. Shrug. “I’m fine.”

And he never pushed.

Until today.

⸻

It had been a long day. The sun was high, sweat sticking to your neck, and Humin had dragged you to a small hill behind the school for some peace and quiet. It was secluded—his favorite place to sneak away from the chaos.

You were lying on the grass beside him, head tilted back, feeling the breeze. He had brought drinks. Your hoodie sleeves were rolled up just a bit, just enough to cool down.

You didn’t notice when the fabric slid higher as you reached for your drink.

But he did.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared.

And then his hand reached out slowly—not to touch, but to gently cover your wrist with his palm, as if shielding it from the world. From judgment. From shame.

Your heart dropped.

You froze.

“…I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he said softly. “But I saw.”

You looked away, heat rising to your face. You pulled your sleeve back down quickly, hand trembling.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered.

“Don’t say that,” he said firmly—quiet, but steady. “Don’t call it nothing.”

A long silence stretched between you. The kind that tightens your throat.

You expected discomfort. Awkwardness. Maybe even pity.

But Humin’s voice cut through it like a blanket being laid over you gently.

“You still here, right?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re still here. Still fighting. Still breathing.” His eyes didn’t leave yours. “That means something.”

Tears stung behind your eyes, uninvited.

“I didn’t know how else to deal with it,” you murmured. “Back then… I just… I didn’t think anyone would care.”

He exhaled slowly, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“I care,” he said. Not loud. But solid. Like it had weight. “You could show up with a thousand scars, and I’d still want to hold your hand.”

Your throat closed up. “Humin—”

“I don’t need to know everything. Not unless you wanna tell me. But you don’t have to hide from me. Ever.”

You let out a shaky breath. His fingers lightly brushed yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He shrugged, gaze still on the sky, but you saw the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Next time it gets bad… tell me,” he said. “Even if you don’t say a word. Just come sit next to me. That’s enough.”

And somehow, that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t broken.

Just healing.

And for the first time in a long while, the warmth on your skin didn’t feel like something you had to hide from.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

Hiii!

Could you do a sieun x reader? Where the boys (gotak, juntae, humin) always see sieun with like zero emotion, but then they’re walking and see sieun and reader like giggling being all cutsey and they’re like whattt and determined to figure out who what when where why.

Thank you!!! Your writing is amazing!

“What in the Si-eun is This?”

Pairing: Si-eun x Reader

Omgg!!! First I want to say I’m so srry for taking so long to get back to ur request!!! But thanks you for request and I hope you like it😜🫶🏻

⸻

There were a few universal truths at Eunjang High.

The school lunches were suspicious. The vending machines ate your money. And Si-eun was emotionally unavailable.

Always.

Forever.

Perpetually carrying the energy of a man who’d seen the apocalypse and was unimpressed by it.

So when Gotak froze mid-step on the third floor hallway and muttered, “No way,” it wasn’t out of boredom. It was a cosmic event.

“What now?” Juntae asked, annoyed as he stepped around him.

Humin followed, and then they both saw it.

Down the hall, in a quiet nook between the stairwell and the water fountain—was Si-eun.

Laughing.

Like, full-body laughing. Not his usual “slight smirk that might’ve been a sneeze” expression.

And you were there too. You flicked his forehead playfully, saying something that made him roll his eyes with mock exasperation. Then he—he—leaned down and kissed your temple so casually it looked like he’d done it a hundred times.

“…What in the K-drama is going on?” Juntae whispered.

“That’s Y/N, right? She’s in Class 2-B,” Humin said, squinting. “The one that gave me a tissue when I got a nosebleed.”

“I thought she was dating that guy from the dance team,” Gotak whispered.

“No, that guy had a girlfriend. You’re thinking of the girl with the dyed tips.”

“Oh. Still. How is she dating Si-eun?”

The boys ducked behind a corner like a poorly-trained surveillance team. Peeking around the wall, they watched Si-eun rest his hand on your waist, his usually sharp eyes softened like they’d been rinsed in honey.

Gotak’s mouth dropped open. “He just touched her like he wasn’t allergic to humans.”

“They’re smiling at each other like they’re in a rom-com montage.” Humin narrowed his eyes. “But when I asked him yesterday if he wanted chips he looked at me like I threatened his family.”

“I’ve never even seen him blink that gently.”

“This is so suspicious,” Juntae whispered. “Something’s not right.”

Gotak suddenly stood straight. “Boys. We have a mission.”

Juntae groaned. “Not another one.”

“This is different. This is urgent,” Gotak hissed. “We are going to investigate—Operation: Unmask the Si-eun Softness.”

“…You already named it?” Humin asked.

“I always name them,” Gotak said proudly. “Now. Tomorrow. Lunch break. We gather intel.”

⸻

The Next Day – Eunjang Cafeteria, 12:15 PM

The three of them sat at their usual table with an open notebook, half-eaten kimbap, and determination in their eyes.

Gotak tapped his pen like a crime drama detective. “So. What do we know about Y/N?”

“She’s nice,” Humin said. “Really smart. Always has extra pens. Smiled at me once and I forgot how to breathe.”

“That’s not helpful.” Gotak scribbled something anyway. “Juntae?”

“I saw her walk into the library with Si-eun once. He looked…calm. Like, not murdery.”

“Guys,” Humin whispered, pointing behind them.

Si-eun and you had just entered the cafeteria—side by side. Not hiding, not pretending. Just there.

You were laughing, again. Si-eun was holding a drink and passed it to you wordlessly. You took it and leaned against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Gotak stared. “He’s letting her lean.”

“She took his drink. He shared,” Juntae gasped.

“I need to lie down,” Humin muttered.

The three watched you both sit at a quieter table in the back corner. Si-eun looked up from his tray just as you leaned toward him and said something, making him chuckle—actual chuckle—before shaking his head and flicking your forehead.

“They have inside jokes,” Gotak whispered.

“No one has inside jokes with Si-eun,” Juntae breathed.

“We don’t even have jokes with him!” Humin whisper-shouted.

And then, the final blow: Si-eun scooted his tray closer to yours so you could steal bites from his lunch.

“Betrayal,” Gotak said dramatically. “He didn’t even yell at her.”

Juntae stood. “That’s it. I’m asking.”

“No, you idiot—” Gotak tried to stop him, but it was too late.

Juntae walked straight up to your table and casually leaned his elbow on the edge.

“So…how long has this forbidden romance been going on?” he asked with a grin.

You looked up, surprised. Si-eun calmly kept eating.

“Forbidden?” you repeated, confused but amused.

“I mean,” Juntae continued, motioning dramatically, “he’s the cold, stoic loner, and you’re like…a person.”

Si-eun raised a brow. “You done?”

“No.” Juntae sat down next to you. “We’re concerned. You broke him.”

You tilted your head. “Broke him?”

“In a good way! Like, emotionally. You unlocked his heart or something. Like a human USB.”

Si-eun sighed. “I can throw you across the room, you know.”

Juntae grinned. “But you won’t. Because she’s here. And you’re soft now.”

You just laughed, while Si-eun rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

Gotak and Humin eventually dragged Juntae back to their table.

“What’d he say?” Gotak asked.

Juntae grinned. “He didn’t say much. But Y/N laughed. And he didn’t glare at me. So I think they’re the real deal.”

Humin let out a long exhale. “Can’t believe we’re living in the Si-eun romance era.”

Gotak crossed his arms, frowning. “I feel like I just watched a wild animal learn to hug.”

From across the cafeteria, Si-eun looked up—and met their eyes.

He raised a brow.

Then, very deliberately, slipped his hand into yours.

The boys collectively lost their minds.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

Could you do a sieunxfemreader, where sieun finds out that reader has died due to $uicide? Like he'd never expects it or he had but never thought it was a bigger deal than it was.

“Things I Didn’t See”

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, tragedy, hurt/no comfort

Content warning: Mental health, suicide (reader), grief, denial

Thank you for requesting✋😔

⸻

He finds out through a text.

Not a phone call. Not even a knock on the door.

A single message from her number. But it’s not her.

“This is [Y/N]’s older sister. I’m sorry to tell you this, but she passed away last night.”

Yeon Si-eun stares at the screen. The words blur as his hands tighten around his phone, like if he grips it hard enough, it’ll crack apart and rewrite the message into something that makes sense. Something that isn’t this.

She passed away.

It doesn’t compute. Not immediately. His first thought is, She can’t be dead. I just saw her.

He did. Just a few days ago. She had smiled, said he was working too hard, ruffled his hair like she always did when he got too serious.

He reads the message again.

“…due to suicide. She didn’t leave a note. We didn’t know who to contact until we saw your name in her recent calls.”

Suicide.

It rings in his ears louder than anything else. His brain tries to reason it away — No, not her. She was tired lately, sure, but not like that. She joked. She still laughed. She held his hand.

But then he remembers. The moments that suddenly feel like signs.

How she stopped answering texts for hours.

How she brushed off serious questions with a “I’m fine, really.”

How once, during one of their late-night walks, she said, “It’s weird how people can feel invisible, even when someone’s holding their hand, huh?”

He had just nodded. He didn’t ask.

He didn’t think it was a cry for help.

Now it’s all he hears.

⸻

The funeral is quiet. Her family avoids eye contact. No one talks much. And Si-eun—he sits in the back, shoulders rigid, hands clenched in his lap. He doesn’t cry. Not there. Not when the photos play across the screen. Not even when they say her name out loud and it echoes through the chapel like it’s meant to haunt him.

Because deep down, he’s still waiting to wake up.

Still expecting her to walk through the door and say, “God, your face looks miserable. Relax. I’m here.”

But she doesn’t.

She never will again.

⸻

Later that night, he walks to their usual spot — a quiet rooftop just high enough to see the city lights but low enough to feel real.

It’s where she once said, “If I disappeared, would you even notice?”

He remembers replying, without even thinking: “Don’t be stupid. Of course I would.”

But he didn’t notice fast enough, did he?

He looks up at the stars.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice raw. “I didn’t see how much it hurt. I didn’t listen.”

The wind doesn’t answer. Her absence is deafening.

——-

UPDATE ON MY BLOG!!!