#changbin imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

catiuskaa · 23 hours ago

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𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐡.

from: love bites burns.

chapters: intro / EP 1 / EP 2 /

short syn. a drunk call brings a certain Seo Changbin back into your life, and an argument follows—sharp, charged, and laced with something neither of you is ready to name—, things is, the line between comfort and something more —desire?— has already begun to blur.

wc. 17.4k

cw. fire and rescue situations (mentions of injury, trauma, and life-threatening scenarios), emotional distress, grief and loss, strong language, alcohol use, heated argument, movie slander, steamy + romantic scenes.

a/n. HAPPY B-DAY MI AMOR! @knowbites ‼️🎂 PORQUE ES UNA CHICA EXCELENTE, Y QUE CUMPLA MUCHOS MÁS! 🎀🗣️🎉🎊

[♦️☆🔥☆♦️]

You’re living in your mother’s apartment while she’s away. The furniture is the same as it’s always been, the walls still lined with the same pictures, but it doesn’t feel like home. Not really. Not when none of it belongs to you.

Your mother’s clothes are folded neatly in the drawers, so you wear them because your own things are packed away somewhere you don't want to go back to —if not burned and in a permanent charcoaled state. Your mother’s perfume lingers in the air, so you smell it every time you turn your head. But it’s not your scent. None of this is yours.

The emptiness inside you only grows more precarious whenever you think about him.

A week after the fire, you find yourself at a friend’s place.

You don't remember agreeing to come. Maybe you said yes automatically, maybe you didn’t say anything at all and just ended up here, sitting on the couch with a drink in your hand, surrounded by voices you aren’t really listening to. You know what they’re talking about, regardless.

They’re talking about weddings. And fiancés. And future homes with spacious kitchens, and choosing between white and off-white linens, and how stressful it is to find a good caterer.

You barely notice the words. The laughter. The way everyone is so present in their own lives.

Your fingers tighten around the cool glass in your hand, the condensation damp against your skin. Someone says something that makes the whole room break into giggles, but you don't hear it. You just watch the way their faces light up, the way they lean toward each other like gravity keeps pulling them back together. Like it always will.

No one has asked you about the bandage on your arm. No one has asked you why you look so tired. No one has noticed anything.

At all.

You let the conversation drift around you, untethered, until eventually you stand to leave. It’s only then that the host —smiling, unaware— presses a bottle of cheap wine into your hands.

“Please, take this,” she says with an easy grin. “My fiancé hates cheap wine.”

You don't argue. You can’t be bothered to listen about the expensive tastes of her soon-to-be-husband. With a fake grin, you just take the bottle and step outside.

No one notices you aren't driving. It’s because you don't need to, your mother’s place is closer than the apartment you used to call home.

So you walk. And somewhere along the way, you open the bottle.

The streets are quiet. Not empty, but quiet. The kind of quiet that settles deep in your chest, where the only real sound is the occasional passing car or the distant hum of the city still moving without you, and each step you make echoes as the sound of your heeled boots make a rhythm for your walk of shame back home —no sex included, because this shame is entirely yours. The street lights flicker in places, casting long, uneven shadows against the pavement. The air is thick with the smell of late-night rain, though the sky is dry now, leaving the asphalt damp and glistening under the orange glow of the lamps.

Your mother’s house isn’t far. You know the way well. The same streets you used to walk as a teenager, coming back late from parties you didn’t want to be at. Like this one, too. Except now, you’re not sure if you even want to be anywhere.

You grip the bottle a little tighter and take another sip.

The wine is bad. Too sugary, clinging to your throat like syrup. You wince, but drink more anyway, the burn in your stomach keeping you company as you step over a crack in the sidewalk.

The city still moves. People still live their lives. The world didn’t stop just because yours tilted.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mutter under your breath. The words slip out before you can stop them.

You take another swig and exhale hard. The weight in your chest doesn’t lift. The houses you pass all look the same, warm light behind drawn curtains, the soft glow of television screens, shadows of people moving inside. Normal people. People who are home and feel home. People who belong.

“Maybe I should’ve asked them if they wanted to stay,” you say to no one in particular, the words slurring slightly as you laugh, a short, breathy thing that barely escapes past your lips before dissolving into the stillness of the night. You shake your head and let your fingers run against the cool glass of the bottle, watching as the liquid inside sways with your movements. “Or maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked anyone anything at all, maybe I should’ve just let it be, let it end right there at the hospital instead of standing here thinking about a guy I barely even know, because seriously, what kind of person says something like call me when you want someone to stay and then—”

You stop walking.

You blink at the ground, swaying slightly on your feet.

“—and then leaves?!”

The words feel heavy in your mouth, heavier than they should, heavier than you want them to be. And you hate it —you really do—, because you’re not supposed to feel like this over someone you just met, someone who was supposed to be a name in a report, just another face you’d forget, just—just someone.

But he’s not. And it’s pissing you off.

“That’s so stupid,” you tell the sidewalk, picking up your pace again. “Like, what, was that supposed to be some profound moment? Some life-altering, deep, poetic bullshit? ‘Call me when you want someone to stay,’” you repeat in a low, mocking voice, scrunching your nose. “Oh, sure, and then what? What if I had called right then and there, huh? What was he gonna do, tell me he couldn’t stay? That it was all just some dumb thing to say in the moment, because he felt like saying it, because he felt something for a split second and then decided it wasn’t worth sticking around for?”

You stop again. Your breath stumbles out of you.

The wind feels colder now, slipping through your clothes and biting at your skin, and you suddenly feel small, standing in the middle of the street like this, drunkenly arguing with the night. Your grip tightens around the bottle.

You shouldn’t have let him leave.

The thought pushes itself forward, uninvited. And you hate that it’s true.

By the time you reach the apartment building, your steps are clumsier, your mind fogged over with cheap wine and exhausted frustration. You keep drinking anyway, as if the solution to a question you aren’t asking —a problem you created by yourself— is waiting for you at the end of the glass bottle. You drink as you step through the familiar front door, kicking off your shoes in a way that sends them skidding across the floor. Drink as you slide down onto the hardwood, phone in hand, fingers fumbling as you pull it from your pocket.

A slip of paper flutters down with it.

You stare at it. The handwriting. The torn edge.

Your eyes narrow.

Oh.

Oh, no fucking way.

It takes your dizzy brain a few seconds to catch up, to fully process who those numbers belong to, who you have been dragging around in your pocket like some kind of pathetic safety net, who—

And then it hits you. “The sexy firefighter, the cute one with the fluffy hair and glasses,” your heart giggles, smiles and swoons at the mental image your brain does.

Seo Changbin.

Something inside you snaps.

“Oh, fuck this,” you mutter, half a laugh, half a growl, as you clumsily grab for your phone again. “No, no, no, this is not happening. I am not gonna sit here and let this—this man—walk around thinking he can just drop some poetic bullshit on me and then leave like it was nothing—like it was just—” You swipe at your screen, blabbering nonsense, struggling to focus. “Like I wasn’t there, too.”

The wine sloshes dangerously, the liquid in the bottle almost as slurry as your speech as you gesture wildly to absolutely no one, your head spinning as you try to keep your balance on the floor.

“Oh, I’m calling him,” you announce to the empty apartment, the bitterness in your throat stronger than the alcohol. “I’m calling him right now.”

Your thumb hovers over the dial button.

“I’m gonna call him, and I’m gonna—gonna tell him off—I’m gonna tell him he’s a bitch for leaving, for just—just walking out like I wasn’t—like we weren’t—” You stop, your breath uneven. Your chest aches. "Like we weren't… something."

Your vision blurs slightly as you blink hard, your lip pulling into a wobbly, frustrated sneer. “I should’ve said something, shouldn’t I? I should’ve—made him stay.”

You glare at the number on your screen.

Something hot coils in your chest—frustration, maybe, or something closer to grief.

You blame him for leaving. You blame yourself for letting him leave.

“So that’s how we’re going at it, huh?” You mumble.

Fine.

If you couldn’t make him stay, then you were at least going to make sure he was fully aware.

And before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let the quiet settle in again, before you can think too hard about it, you press the number into your phone and call.

[.]

It’s a bit late, but that’s okay.

It’s a routine event. A school visit, a station tour—kids getting to play firefighter for a day. He’s done this dozens of times before. The little boy in front of him wobbles under the weight of his helmet, grinning, and his friend beside him tugs excitedly on Changbin’s sleeve.

“Can we slide down the pole?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not today, champ. That’s just for real emergencies.”

The kids groan in unison, but it’s all in good fun. Their teacher smiles, and Changbin stands, adjusting his turnout jacket as he moves to the next part of the tour, one that is close to ending.

“Sir?”

A girl tugs on his sleeve, big brown eyes peering up at him. “How do you turn on the siren?”

He blinks. His mind is elsewhere for a second, but he smiles. Clears his throat. Focus, Seo.

“Oh, this is fun,” he says, crouching. “Want to try for yourself?”

The little girl giggles, nodding, and Changbin picks her up, guiding her little hand to the switch. The siren wails to life, high-pitched and sharp, and the kids squeal in delight. He sometimes grows annoyed at the sound, but the kid in his arms grins like she just won the lottery. As he puts the girl down, her friend beside her tugs at Changbin’s sleeve.

“Can we slide down the pole now?”

Changbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sorry kiddo, that’s just for emergencies.”

“Aw, man.” The boy huffs, crossing his arms. “What if we pretend it’s an emergency?”

“You planning on setting something on fire?”

That startles them. Their eyes widen as they hurriedly shake their heads, and Changbin grins, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Didn’t think so.”

The other firefighters are leading other small groups through the different sections of the station, showing them the equipment, letting them climb into the trucks. It’s a routine thing, one that used to bring him nothing but amusement. But today, there’s something restless sitting in his chest, something that makes him feel like he’s only half here.

One of the teachers calls the kids back into a circle, warning them that the bus will get back shortly, and Changbin steps aside, rolling his shoulders.

His gaze drifts.

His phone screen stays dark in his pocket.

Three times now. He’s checked it three times. And for what? It’s not like he expects anything. Not… really. It’s been a week. You’re probably fine. You’re probably—

“You look serious.”

Changbin turns, finding Chan leaning against the truck, arms crossed, watching him with that annoying knowing look of his.

“It’s my face,” Changbin replies dryly, pouting in fake annoyance.

Chan snorts. “Yeah, right.” He nods toward the group. “You good, though? You seem distracted.” Which is the polite way of saying you’ve been acting weird all week.

“I’m fine,” Changbin mutters, but even as he says it, his jaw tightens.

He was going to ask what’s up your ass this morning, but instead, Chan chooses not to push. Just hums, amused, before nodding toward the group. “Wanna drive the truck in a circle for the kids?”

Changbin exhales sharply, “Nah, the teacher told me the bus driver finally answered back. They’ll be leaving too soon for that. Actually, hold on a sec.”

He glances at the group of kids, who are still buzzing with excitement, and makes a split-second decision.

“Alright,” he grins, crouching slightly. “One at a time. Who wants to slide down the pole?”

The kids freeze. Then, all at once—

“REALLY?!”

“NO WAY!”

“NO SNITCHING!”

He giggles, pressing a finger to his lips. “Only if you keep it quiet, yeah?”

They nod furiously.

And so, one by one, Changbin lifts them up slightly over his shoulder, just enough so they can grab onto the pole. He keeps a steady hold on their backs as they slide down, their laughter echoing through the station. Some shriek, others giggle, and one kid yells, “I’M A SUPERHERO!”

Chan watches from the side, shaking his head with a smirk. “Breaking protocol, huh?”

“They bribed me,” Changbin deadpans.

Chan chuckles but doesn’t stop him. The kids are having the time of their lives, and honestly, for a moment, so is Changbin.

“Alright, who’s next?” he calls out.

A girl in a pink jacket eagerly steps forward, gripping his shoulder as he lifts her just high enough for her hands to grasp the pole. Her face flickers between thrill and hesitation, but then she’s sliding down, her giggles bouncing off the walls.

Another boy, this one with a missing front tooth, hops excitedly in place. “Me! Me! Me!”

Changbin scoops him up, lets him feel the rush of sliding down, and by the time the kid’s sneakers hit the ground, he’s laughing so hard his tiny shoulders shake.

“Best field trip ever,” one of them whispers in awe.

Changbin grins. “Told you guys firefighters have the best job.”

“I wanna be a firefighter when I grow up!” another kid declares.

“Me too!”

“I wanna be a dinosaur!”

Chan snorts at that one, crossing his arms as he leans against the truck. “That’s some stiff competition, Binnie.”

Changbin plays along, rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. “Well, firefighting dinosaurs would be pretty cool.”

A few kids gasp as if he’s just revealed a universal truth. One of them immediately turns to their friend. “We could be firefighters and dinosaurs!”

Changbin ruffles the nearest kid’s hair before lifting up another and guiding them down the pole. He’s focused on their joy, on their laughter, on how easy it is to lose himself in the moment—

Until his phone vibrates.

It’s subtle. Barely a buzz in his pocket, almost lost to the noise of the station.

But he notices.

His grip falters, just for a second. He steadies the next kid on the pole and watches them slide down.

It could be anything.

But it could be you.

His chest goes still.

“Mister firefighter? There’s a light on your leg.”

Across the room, Chan catches the way he stiffens. The way his shoulders tense, the way his eyes flicker—not with alarm, not with urgency, but with something quieter. Something unsure.

And somehow, Chan just knows. He claps his hands together, pushing off the truck. “Alright, kids, the bus is here!”

The eager chorus of whiny voices that want to slied down the pole again is the perfect smoke bomb that Changbin needs to leave. Chan doesn’t say anything when they trade spots. He just claps a hand on Changbin’s shoulder as they pass, brief and solid, before seamlessly stepping into his place, and carefully instructing the children to form a line so they can all head out, helping the teacher out. Changbin turns away, phone gripped tight in his hand.

He exhales once, slow and deep.

He swipes to answer.

“…Hello?”

But when you hear his voice, you freeze.

The cheap wine, the anger, the reckless confidence—it all vanishes in an instant. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Hadn’t expected him to actually pick up. So you just lie there, barefoot on the cold wooden floor of your mother’s living room, phone pressed to your ear, breath caught in your throat.

On the other end, Changbin waits. You can hear the faintest sound of voices in the background—kids, laughter, the echo of a large space. You wonder about his day. About what he has done the past week. As if maybe, him picking up could mean he had also missed you. At least a small bit.

“…Hello?” he says again, softer this time.

His voice. Something about it makes your fingers tighten around the phone. Your chest twists, throat closing up, because you remember—God, you remember—the last time you heard his voice this close.

The warmth of it. The way it filled the silence in a hospital room. The way he had stayed. The familiarity. Like it hasn’t been a week, like it hasn’t been days of silence stretching too far, like you haven’t spent every one of those days trying to ignore the way your chest felt too hollow.

Your breath stutters. The words you had ready—the drunken justifications, the sour anger, or even the casual hey, mister firefighter a part of you thought you’d toss in—die in your throat.

And now you’re here, empty wine bottle on the floor, too many things in your head, and for some godforsaken reason, you’re calling him.

You swallow hard. Your fingers press tighter around the phone. Your heartbeat stumbles, and you wonder if he can hear it through the line. You wet your lips, eyes darting toward the ceiling. The room feels too big. The world feels too quiet.

You exhale, slow.

“Seo Changbin,” you mumble drunkenly, your voice a little hoarse, a little uncertain. Then, after a beat, “…hi.”

And then, Changbin forgets how to breathe.

He has spent the last week convincing himself he wouldn’t hear from you. That maybe the connection he thought you two had was just the heat of the moment—figuratively and literally. That maybe you have already forgotten about him, that you were out there moving on, laughing, living.

But now, you’re here. Not in front of him, not the way his mind had desperately imagined too many times, but here. On the other end of the line. Saying his name in a way that makes his pulse trip over itself.

His grip on the phone tightens. He turns away from the noise of the fire station, the kids, the familiar chaos, and presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

What does he say? Does he ask if you’re okay? Does he pretend this is normal? Does he call you out for the way you just disappeared from his life like you weren’t supposed to be there? Can he even do that?

Calm down. Breathe.

He lets out a shaky exhale. Swallows down whatever mess is brewing in his chest, “…hey,” he says back, but it comes out rougher, breathier, like he’s still trying to catch up with himself.

A couple giggles travel through the phone. Changbin hears you laugh, but it’s not light or carefree—it’s fragile, tired, almost breaking apart before it even begins. Then, your voice comes through, soft and unsteady, words tumbling over each other like you’re not quite in control of them.

“I feel so stupid,” you mumble, dragging out the words like they’re heavy. “For calling you. For… clinging. To you.”

You hiccup, sniff, then laugh again, and it’s emptier this time.

“…bet you’ve already moved on, right? Just another… rescue on a file. Some… some girl you carried out of a burning building. That’s… all I am, isn’t it?”

Changbin doesn’t know what to say. He knows that isn’t true, but he isn’t sure if you really want an answer either.

“I drank so much wine,” you continue, like you need to fill the silence. “Because my… my friends, they… are stupid. So… stupid. Talking about… weddings and fiancés and…” you groan. “They didn’t even notice. No one noticed, no one… asked. Not about the bandages, not about the way I…” you cut yourself off with another chuckle, this one sharp and bitter. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I just… I feel so… empty.”

Your voice shakes at the end. You sound so small. So lost. And something inside Changbin clenches so tight it almost hurts.

You called him. Out of everyone, him. And now you’re alone and hurting, and he’s standing in the middle of the fire station with your voice in his ear and a storm gathering in his chest. You’re sad because of him, and still, you called.

“I had no one else to call…” your voice falters, barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t…”

You don’t finish.

Changbin hears the way your breath shudders, how you trail off like you’re afraid of saying the rest out loud. Like you don’t even know how to.

And it hits him harder than it should, because maybe he already knew. Maybe he knew from the way you never called anyone at the hospital, from the way you hesitated before signing those discharge papers, from the way you wouldn’t even look at him when you parted ways.

But hearing it now, raw and unfiltered through the haze of wine and loneliness… it does something to him. His grip tightens around the phone.

“I’m here,” he says, before he even realizes he’s speaking. His voice is steady, but something in his chest isn’t. “I’m right here.”

“No, you’re not.”

You giggle drunkenly, but it’s not funny.

“You’re slurring your words, you know that?” He bites his lip.

But when you stop talking, he hears the exhaustion in how you sigh. He swallows dry.

“I think I should come get you.”

“What?” Your tone changes, and you sit up as straight as your drunk body can muster up. “You don’t even know where I am,” you giggle in drunken confusion.

“Okay. Tell me, then.”

“No, no, you can’t,” you insist, suddenly panicking. You don’t even know why you’re saying it��pride? Fear? The sheer vulnerability of the moment?

He asks the question you’re avoiding. “Why not?” His voice stays steady, but inside, he’s spiraling a little.

“Because…” But you don’t have an answer, not one that makes sense.

A beat passes.

The line goes dead.

Changbin stares at his phone, the empty silence ringing louder than anything you’d just said.

You hung up.

He runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. His pulse is still racing, a mix of confusion, concern, and something else, something he doesn’t know how to name yet. But before he can even begin to process it, his screen lights up again. A message.

He blinks at it, his breath catching in his throat. It’s an address.

Your address.

His fingers tighten around the phone. His mind catches up a second later, pushing him into motion before he even realizes he’s moving.

Changbin stares at his phone screen, the address glowing up at him like a challenge. His heart is still racing from the way the call ended, from the way you panicked—hung up—but still sent it.

You want him there.

The realization settles deep in his chest, tangled up with the hundred other things he’s feeling. Worry. Confusion. That stupid, stubborn pull toward you that he still doesn’t understand. Fear.

Outside, as the children head up the bus, Chan is still with the kids, crouched beside one of them who’s struggling to open the little playboards the station gifts. The kid raises his arms and hands Chan the board, and Chan ruffles his hair before helping him, opening up the plastic. Then, just as he finishes, he glances up, and sees Changbin heading out.

Chan doesn’t even have to ask. He must catch something in his face, because his mouth quirks up into an amused smirk. Like Changbin is really dull to not have left before. His eyebrows raise just slightly, his smirk widening, and he shrugs him away with a nod of his head.

Leave, he doesn’t say.

Changbin exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he shoves his phone into his pocket and turns toward his motorbike.

Chan chuckles under his breath, refocusing on the kids.

A chorus of excited goodbyes is the last thing Changbin hears, like a soundtrack he needs right then and there to keep moving.

[.]

You stay on the floor longer than you should.

The wine bottle, empty now, rolls lazily across the wooden floor when you shift, the soft clink barely registering through the fog in your mind. Your phone is somewhere near you—maybe on the floor, maybe still in your hand—but you don’t reach for it.

What did you just do?

Your body feels too heavy, your head thick with alcohol and regret. You shouldn’t have called him. Shouldn’t have said any of that. Shouldn’t have sent your address.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

You groan, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. Maybe you should text him and say it was a mistake. Tell him not to come, even when you don’t even know if he will. Maybe he saw the address and decided you weren’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’s already forgotten about you.

Maybe that’s what you deserve. You haven’t had much luck in that aspect, so it wouldn’t really come out as a surprise.

You swallow hard, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to will away the burning behind your eyes. The apartment feels too big, too empty, like a house that doesn’t belong to you. You feel like an intruder in your mother’s life, wearing her clothes, sitting on her floor, like a ghost haunting a place that was never really yours.

You exhale shakily. You should get up. Go to bed.

But your limbs don’t cooperate, and before you know it, your eyes slip shut.

It’s barely a couple minutes before Changbin gets to the apartment complex, the first thing he notices is that your door is slightly open. His heart kicks up.

He doesn’t think. He just moves.

Stepping inside, the air smells faintly of wine, and he spots the empty bottle before he spots you.

You’re on the floor.

His stomach lurches, and he’s kneeling beside you before he even has time to process. “Hey—” He touches your shoulder, shakes you lightly. “Hey, wake up.”

You stir at the contact, your brows furrowing, a soft noise leaving your lips.

He exhales, relief loosening his chest when he realizes you’re just sleeping. Still, seeing you like this does something strange to him. Something that makes his jaw tighten, something that makes him want to be mad at you and pull you close all at once.

He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before carefully sliding his arms under you. You’re warm. Lighter than he expected.

As he lifts you, you stir again, your lashes fluttering. “Mmm…?”

“Where is your room?” he murmurs, his voice softer than he means it to be.

You blink slowly, dazed, your head lolling against his chest. “Down the hall…”

“Okay,” he says, adjusting his grip on you. “Go back to sleep, gorgeous.”

You exhale, and your body relaxes against him once more.

He holds you closer and walks, careful and quiet, guiding you through the dimly lit apartment. And though he knows he shouldn’t—knows he shouldn’t feel anything about this—he does.

You called him. You sent him your address.

You wanted him here.

And he wants to stay.

Changbin nudges the bedroom door open with his foot, stepping inside. The room is dark except for the soft glow of a streetlamp filtering in through the curtains. It’s tidy. Untouched, almost like you don’t really live here.

He gently lowers you onto the bed, careful not to jostle you too much. But as soon as your back touches the mattress, you stir, a small frown pulling at your lips.

“No…” you mumble, your fingers weakly curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His breath catches. “Hey,” he murmurs, his hand hovering over yours. “You need to sleep.”

You make a quiet, frustrated sound but don’t argue again. Instead, your grip on his shirt loosens, and your hand falls away as sleep pulls you back under.

He exhales, watching you for a moment longer than he should. The way your breathing evens out. The way your lashes flutter slightly, like you’re dreaming already.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he pulls the blankets over you. His fingers brush your wrist as he tucks you in, and he forces himself to pull away.

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing around the unfamiliar room.

His brain screams at him. You should go, it says, over and over, like something is triggering his fight or flight response, and he was a fragile little bird. But he hesitates. Just for a second.

Changbin curses under his breath. He’s being stupid, right? Why should he go? You called him. You wanted him here. And now, even in sleep, your fingers twitch faintly against the blanket, like you’d hold onto him if you could.

His jaw tightens. He runs a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. His instinct tells him to leave, to be responsible, to keep some kind of professional distance—but when has he ever done what he should when it comes to you?

He broke protocol to try and find you. He broke protocol for staying, for wanting to stay. Would breaking it again really be that bad?

He hesitates, watching you carefully, then ��tentative, a little reckless— he reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face.

You sigh softly. Relax. And just like that, he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Changbin barely has time to react before your fingers curl around his, warm and loose with sleep, and you tug, pulling him closer, giggling softly as he stumbles forward.

“Hey…” he starts, but it’s useless. You’re stronger than you look, or maybe he just doesn’t have the will to resist.

The bed creaks under your combined weight on only one side as he catches himself on one hand, hovering over you for a second. His heart is pounding. This is—he shouldn’t—

But you just sigh, eyes fluttering half-open, and mumble, “Stay.”

And against all better judgment, he does.

You nuzzle into his chest without a second thought, pressing close like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’ve done this so many times before. Like you belong there.

Changbin stiffens. His breath catches.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t let this happen.

But then you sigh, a quiet, content sound, and your fingers curl slightly against his shirt, holding onto him even in sleep. And just like that, all his resolve unravels.

Slowly, carefully, he exhales and lets his arm settle around you, just enough to keep you close. Just enough to let himself stay.

He tries to think logically. Tries to calm down his brain. Why shouldn’t he be here?

Because he’s a firefighter, and you’re someone he rescued. Because this isn’t supposed to happen—victims move on, and so do the people who save them. Because he barely knows you, not really, not in the way that should make his chest tighten at the thought of leaving.

But you’re still holding onto him, even in sleep. And he doesn’t feel like a firefighter right now. He doesn’t feel like someone who’s supposed to move on.

He just feels like someone who wants to stay.

What would plain old Changbin do? He thinks. Not Firefighter Seo, not the guy in uniform who’s supposed to keep things professional. Just Changbin.

And plain old Changbin —stupid, stubborn, too-soft-for-his-own-good Changbin, heart-on-his-sleeve Changbin— would stay.

You sigh, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. It’s not intentional, just the natural weight of you sinking into him, warm and drowsy and tipsy enough to let every thought spill freely.

“You came all this way,” you murmur. “Why are you still acting like a part of you doesn’t want to be here?”

His breath hitches. You don’t see the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets.

“Shouldn’t I…?” he starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Shouldn’t he go? Shouldn’t he be the responsible one and keep this rescuer-victim relationship as impersonal as it stands? Shouldn’t he stop himself before he starts something he can’t take back?

Your hand moves, fingertips grazing down his forearm before curling around his wrist. Your grip is loose, gentle, but he feels it like an anchor.

“I don’t get you,” you say, quieter now. “You… you held my hand. You let me fall asleep on your shoulder. You looked at me like…” but you cut yourself off with a shake of your head, laughing softly, more to yourself than to him.

He exhales sharply through his nose. You looked at me like—what? He doesn’t know the answer, but the fact that you noticed at all is enough to make his pulse hammer against his ribs.

You hum, tilting your head slightly, as if searching his face for something. And then your voice turns teasing, but only barely.

“Why did you come, Bin?”

He tenses, mouth parting slightly, but nothing comes out.

“Why did you pick up the phone?” you continue. “Why did you leave work? Why are you here?”

His throat bobs. He wants to say because you called, but that’s not the whole truth, is it?

“You could’ve ignored me.” Your fingers tighten slightly around his wrist. “You could’ve told me to call someone else, or to deal with it. But you didn’t.”

He presses his lips together, gaze dropping to where your hand rests on his.

“So don’t act like it’s just me,” you say, voice soft but certain in only a way alcohol could. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who felt something when you stayed with me that night.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.

Because when he finally looks up, you see everything you need to know.

You sigh again, shaking your head with something unbearably fond.

“Christ,” you murmur, almost amused. “You’re as thick as it gets.”

And then you kiss him. Soft and fleeting, like you don’t expect anything back. Like you just need him to understand.

…

He short-circuits. May-day, we have lost him.

It’s instant, the way his brain completely shuts down, the way every rational thought fizzles out like a blown fuse.

Because you’re kissing him.

You.

Your lips are warm and soft and a little clumsy, but you don’t pull away. You linger, just for a second, like you want to make sure he really gets it, and his body locks up so tight he forgets how to breathe.

His hands hover uselessly, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. Like if he moves at all, he’ll wake up and this will all have been some kind of fever dream.

Because what the hell is he supposed to do?

Push you away? No, no, he doesn’t want that.

Kiss you back? He—he can’t. He shouldn’t. You’re drunk, and he’s just… blank.

He’s supposed to think, but his brain isn’t working. There’s no protocol for this.

He’s stuck. Frozen. Glitching.

And then, just as fast as it happened, it’s over.

You pull back with a small, satisfied hum, eyes half-lidded, lips curved in a drowsy little smile.

“There,” you mumble, blinking up at him like you haven’t just fried every single synapse in his body. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Are you kidding me?

Changbin stares at you, wide-eyed and completely fried, and he has absolutely no idea what to do next. He can’t help but chuckle incredulously. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

You giggle, tilting your head up to look at him with lidded eyes, lazy and warm. “Whaaaaat? Me?”

Changbin exhales sharply, pressing his lips together, trying to school his expression into something neutral, something that doesn’t betray how badly you’re unraveling him. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, all mischief and softness, your fingers still loosely curled against his chest.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, as if that’ll somehow fix the mess he’s in. “You’re impossible.”

You hum, completely unfazed, and nuzzle closer, sighing like you’re content—like being here, tangled up against him, is exactly where you want to be.

He should move. He should. But his body betrays him. Instead, he stays, one arm half-draped over your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

“Just to put it out there,” he mumbles. “If you weren’t drunk, I’d kiss you back.”

You pause, your breath hitching just slightly against his chest. Then, you hum again, but this time it’s different—quieter, softer, like you’re tucking his words away somewhere safe.

Changbin doesn’t dare look at you, staring stubbornly at the ceiling instead, like if he so much as meets your gaze, he’ll do something stupid. Stupider than admitting what’s already plain as day. But then, you shift, just enough to tilt your head up toward him again. Your fingers, warm and a little clumsy, trace absentmindedly over the fabric of his shirt.

“Just to put it out there,” you echo, voice lilting with amusement, “you’re so dense.”

He huffs out a laugh, part exasperation, part disbelief.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, looking at his lips.

And then you kiss him again. Softer, slower—like you’re proving a point. Like you know that despite the fact that he won’t kiss you back, you just want to anyway. For a moment, he doesn’t move, but his hands end up cradling your face and push you away softly.

“No,” he whines. “That’s unfair. You know I shouldn’t.”

Changbin swallows hard, heart pounding so loud he’s sure you can hear it. His hands are still cradling your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, but they tremble—just barely. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t indulge. But then you look at him like that, all soft and certain, and something inside him breaks.

“But you want to,” you murmur, voice thick with wine and something deeper, something raw. Your mouth turns dry. “Right?”

His breath catches. You’re not wrong.

Changbin’s hands tighten around you, like you might slip away if he lets go. His pulse thrums in his ears, and he can’t stop staring at your lips, the way they’re parted ever so slightly, so close he could just—

“Yeah,” he exhales. It comes out shakier than he wants it to. “I do.”

The confession hangs between you, pressing against his ribs like a secret that should’ve never left his chest. But it’s too late now, and maybe he doesn’t want to take it back.

Your lips curve into a lazy, drunken smile. “Then what’s stopping you?”

His throat tightens. God.

“Because,” he murmurs, eyes flickering down to your mouth again, “you’re drunk. And I don’t—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Not like this. Please?”

You tilt your head, blinking up at him like you’re trying to see something beyond his eyes, but then your expression softens. Like you do understand.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you lean into his palm, closing your eyes. “Fine,” you whisper. “I’ll let you be good.”

His chest aches. He can’t tell if it’s from relief or something dangerously close to longing. A chuckle slips out, quiet and breathless.

“Cheeky,” he teases.

You hum, pressing closer, not to tempt him, not to push, but just to be there, warm and steady against him. And when your breathing evens out, he stays still, letting you rest.

And letting himself have this moment.

[.]

Changbin sleeps lightly, his body still tense even as exhaustion pulls him under. And then—

Flames. Thick smoke curling through the air. The blaring wail of sirens echoing in his ears.

It’s a memory, not just a dream.

He’s twenty-two, barely a year into the job, still learning how to breathe through the heat, how to silence the fear. The picture is as clear as it was all those years ago. A collapsed building. The kind of wreckage that makes your stomach drop before you even step inside.

Changbin isn’t the one running in. This time, he’s just watching, feeling the dread of a spectator who knows something the protagonist doesn’t. Something that makes said protagonist reek of death. That’s who’s running in.

Senior Firefighter Kang Jisoo. A guy everyone liked, the kind who cracked jokes in the locker room and always had your back in the field.

Except today, something’s different.

“Jisoo—wait!” someone shouts. The building is unstable, the fire too strong. But Jisoo doesn’t stop.

Because there’s someone inside.

It’s not just any victim. A woman.

She wasn’t a stranger. She wasn’t just another person on the rescue reports. She had volunteered for training drills at the station, practicing how to be pulled from burning buildings, letting rookies carry her through simulations. She laughed with them, helped with practice rescues—until one day, it stopped being practice.

And somewhere along the way, Jisoo had let himself care too much.

They weren’t supposed to date. It wasn’t technically against the rules, but he knew it wasn’t right. That it blurred the line between duty and something dangerously personal.

And now—

Now, he watches as Jisoo vanishes into the smoke.

Minutes stretch too long. The building groans, shifts. The chief is yelling at him through the radio.

And then—

The collapse.

Changbin doesn’t remember much after that. Just the sound of sirens, the weight in his chest, the way no one could look each other in the eye.

They pulled Jisoo out hours later.

He didn’t make it.

And maybe it wasn’t just because of her. Maybe he would have run in anyway. But everyone knew. Everyone knew.

The line had blurred. And now he was gone.

The dream twists, pulling him back to the present.

Your voice, slurred and sad. Why do you think I held on to your hand in the hospital?

Changbin wakes with a sharp inhale, chest tight, the weight of memory pressing down hard.

He’s scared. He should go.

The weight of the dream lingers, pressing against his chest like the thick smoke of a fire that won’t clear. He stares at the ceiling, at the faint patterns of light that shift as the city hums outside, but his mind is somewhere else. Stuck in the past.

Kang Jisoo had cared too much. And it got him killed.

It wasn’t something they talked about—not officially, anyway. There was no rulebook warning them about it, no memo reminding them not to get too close. But he knew. He saw the way Jisoo hesitated that night, the way he went back when he didn’t have to. The way he threw his own safety away for someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

Changbin had watched it happen. Had been there when they pulled Jisoo out. Had felt the sick twist in his stomach when he realized it was too late.

And now, here he was. Lying in your bed, feeling the warmth of your body next to his, and knowing he was teetering on that same dangerous edge.

Caring too much.

He exhales shakily, pressing his palm over his face like he can physically push the thought away.

This isn’t the same. He tells himself that, over and over. You’re not the same. He didn’t break protocol. He didn’t cross a line. He didn’t let himself—

And yet, when he glances at you, curled up and peaceful in sleep, he feels it creeping in. That dangerous, reckless, all-consuming pull. The kind of pull that could get people hurt.

The kind of pull that could get people killed.

And still—God help him—he can’t bring himself to step away.

Because the weight of your fingers around his wrist is barely there, but it feels like something holding on. Because if he closes his eyes, he can still hear the way you said his name over the phone, slurred and sad and reaching for something neither of you could quite name. Because walking away is supposed to be easy—it’s what he’s supposed to do—but somehow, it feels harder.

His breath shudders out of him, and he lets his body sink back into the bed, his muscles slowly untensing. He tells himself it’s just for a moment. Just until your grip slackens. Just until he knows for sure that you’re asleep.

But you are asleep, and he’s still not moving.

The room is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of cars outside. The air smells faintly of wine, but beneath that, there’s something softer, something yours, something that wraps around him the same way the warmth of your fingers does.

He forces his eyes to the ceiling. If he looks at you, if he lets himself take in the way your lips part slightly in sleep, the curve of your lashes against your cheek, the way your grip on his wrist lingers even though you don’t even realize it—he might not be able to keep pretending.

You’re just drunk. That’s all this is.

But there’s something insidious about that thought, because if it’s just the alcohol, then why is he still here? Why is it that even now, after telling himself all the reasons why this could be a bad idea, he still doesn’t want to let go?

Changbin exhales, closing his eyes.

He tells himself he’ll leave in five minutes.

But the minutes stretch, and stretch, and stretch—

And he never moves.

His feelings right now are a tangled mess of fear, longing, and self-imposed restraint.

He wants to stay. God, he wants to stay. But that want is exactly what terrifies him.

Because he’s seen what happens when a firefighter cares too much. He’s seen what happens when emotions get tangled with duty, when the lines blur between helping someone and needing them. He watched a man—someone he admired, someone who was supposed to know better—lose his life because of it.

So now, every instinct inside him is fighting.

There’s the part of him that aches to reach for you, to let himself just feel instead of thinking so damn hard. The part that still feels the ghost of your fingers in his, the warmth of you beside him, the way you unconsciously reached for him even in sleep.

And then there’s the part that screams Don’t be reckless. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be like him.

It’s guilt and fear and stupid, stubborn hope all fighting for space in his chest.

Because the truth is—if he lets himself care, if he lets himself have this, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from risking everything.

But then you stir beside him, a soft noise escaping your lips as you shift under the covers. Your hand twitches, fingers brushing against his wrist again, as if even in sleep, some part of you is reaching for him.

And Changbin stops thinking about leaving.

Just for a second.

He exhales, pressing his lips into a thin line as he watches your face, the way your brows knit slightly before smoothing out again. He wonders if you’re dreaming. If, in that dream, he’s there too.

His chest tightens, and he looks away. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. Shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. But the weight of everything—of the past, of what he knows and what he wants—settles heavy inside him, a pressure he can’t shake.

His fingers flex slightly against the blanket. His body is still half-tensed, as if he could make himself get up, walk away, pretend this never happened.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stays. And when the silence stretches too long, when the thoughts start pressing too heavy against his ribs, it’s his own voice that finally breaks the quiet.

“I should go,” he mutters.

It’s barely a whisper, not even meant for you, but somehow, you hear it.

Still half-asleep, your lips part, a quiet, mumbled sound escaping before the words fully form. “You don’t want to.”

Changbin stills.

Your eyes aren’t even open, but somehow, it’s like you know. Like you can feel the battle raging in his chest.

And that—more than anything—scares the hell out of him.

[.]

When you wake up slowly, blinking against the sunlight, he’s still there—staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight, looking like he’s at war with himself.

You study him for a beat before saying, “You’re thinking too hard.”

He exhales sharply, like you caught him. But he doesn’t deny it.

Outside, the sun creeps higher, spilling golden light through the thin curtains. The sheets beneath you are warm from where he sat, and yet—he’s stiff, distant, like he’s already halfway out the door.

You don’t want to push. You’re hungover on wine, your head hurts, and you’d rather bask in the warmth of the sun that seeps through the window, but something about the way he looks—about the way he’s here but somehow not here—makes you ask.

“Do you regret staying?”

He freezes for half a second, then shakes his head.

“No.”

His voice is quiet, but firm. Still, something about it doesn’t convince you.

“But you… want to leave.”

Silence. His jaw tightens.

You wait.

And finally, after a long moment, he mutters, “I… should.”

There it is. That hesitation, that pull in opposite directions. You frown, leaning a little closer, the sheets rustling beneath you.

“Why?”

Changbin exhales harshly through his nose and drags a hand down his face. His shoulders are hunched like the weight of this conversation is pressing down on him. He looks away, eyes flickering to the floor.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“That’s not fair,” you say softly. “Make me get it. I’m not dull. Just hungover.”

His fingers twitch. He wants to argue. Wants to shut this down. But the look on your face keeps him pinned in place, and for a second, his resolve wavers.

Changbin doesn’t answer right away. He drops his hand from his face, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be carved into it.

Because it’s dangerous. Because I shouldn’t want this. Because caring too much can get people killed.

His throat bobs. He swallows hard. He stops himself before the words slip out. But you don’t look away. You’re waiting for an answer. An answer he isn’t totally sure if he can put into words.

There’s a moment—a fragile, trembling moment—where you think he might actually answer you.

And then he moves.

He swings his legs off the bed, scrubs a hand down his face, and gets up so fast it makes your head spin. You watch, stunned, as he shoves his feet into his shoes, his movements sharp, almost frantic.

Your stomach drops. He’s leaving.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out thinner than you mean it to.

“I told you,” he mutters, reaching for his jacket. “I should go.”

The air is heavy, thick with something unspoken. Your grip tightens on the blanket.

“So that’s it?” You hate how small your voice sounds. “You’re just gonna—what? Pretend none of this happened?”

He doesn’t answer. Just zips up his jacket.

Something inside you snaps.

“That’s real mature, Changbin.” Your voice is thick, shaking. “You get to act like you care, but the second it can get a bit hard, you run?”

He freezes again. His fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket. His shoulders jerk like the words physically hit him. His head shakes—small, sharp, like he’s trying to shake off a thought he doesn’t want to have.

You push yourself off the bed. The wooden floor is cold under your feet. “No. No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to stay, to hold me, to make me feel like I matter, just to leave the second I ask you why.”

“You don’t understand,” he mutters, voice tight, and when he finally looks at you, his eyes are glassy, something like desperation clinging to the edges. “I can’t do this.”

You step forward, even if he avoids your eyes.

"Can’t or won’t?"

His jaw tightens. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically shake the question off. "Oh, please," he mutters, but his voice isn’t sharp—it’s strained, like he’s fraying at the edges.

His hands curl into fists. He has to leave.

"What do you want?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Your voice is louder this time. You’re getting angry, and he knows, and he can only blame himself. He exhales sharply, shoulders rising and falling with the weight of something he can’t quite name. His fingers twitch at his sides.

"I don’t know," he says, and it’s a lie, and you both know it.

"Yes, you do."

Silence.

The conviction in your voice is unwavering. It pins him in place, cracks through the walls he's trying so desperately to keep up. And suddenly, it’s terrifying—because you see right through him.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

"Of course, it matters." You frown, tilting your head. "Why are you fighting this so hard?"

Changbin presses his lips together. His throat feels tight. Because I know how this could end. Because he’s seen what could happen when a firefighter gets too close. He’s seen the way it can ruin people. How it can make you reckless. How it can turn a life into a name on a plaque, a funeral with too many people in uniform.

Because he’s seen what love can cost.

“You wouldn’t get it,” he says, and it’s clipped, like he’s trying to cut the conversation off before it can go any further.

You scoff. “You keep saying that, but how the fuck would you know?”

His jaw clenches. “Because it’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple!” You sit up fully now, your frustration boiling over. “You keep looking at me like I’m some line you don’t want to cross, but I don’t get why! You stayed, Changbin. You wanted to stay, so why do you act like it’s some kind of mistake?”

His breath shudders. His hands ball into fists.

And then, suddenly, his voice cracks—

“I’m scared, okay!?”

The words rip out of him, sharp and desperate, like he didn’t mean to say them out loud. Like they’ve been clawing at his throat for years and finally broke free.

The air in the room turns unbearably thick.

Your lips part, but no words come.

“I’m fucking terrified.” He mumbles breathlessly.

Changbin squeezes his eyes shut. His breathing turns uneven. When he speaks again, his voice is rough, trembling at the edges.

“I watched a man die because he cared too much.” His hands tremble at his sides. “Because he—he tried to save someone he loved, and it killed him. And you—” His throat bobs. “You make me care in a way I don’t understand, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Your heart aches. He shakes his head, breath hitching, like he’s mad at himself for admitting it. Like he already regrets every word. His chest rises and falls sharply, and when he finally looks at you again, he’s tearing apart at the seams.

And now—now—you get it.

This isn’t just hesitation. This isn’t just reluctance.

This is fear.

And it’s eating him alive.

Your chest tightens. His words weigh heavy in the air, and suddenly, you feel like you understand him in a way you hadn’t before.

“I get it,” you whisper, as if afraid to break the silence. “More than you think.”

Changbin’s breath is shaky. He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you.

But you don’t let him shut you out.

“I drank too much wine last night because my friends are… well. People who don’t really seem like my friends,” you say, voice quiet but steady. “Because they don’t… Because I was sitting there, watching them laugh and talk, and I realized that I could disappear, and no one would even notice.”

His eyes flicker to yours.

“I know what lonely feels like,” you continue, and now your voice wavers. “And I know what it’s like to think you’re better off that way. That it’s safer.” You swallow hard. “But you’re wrong, Changbin.”

He exhales sharply, looking away. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for something but doesn’t know what.

“Pushing people away doesn’t stop the fear,” you murmur. “It just makes you feel like shit.”

A heavy silence settles between you. The kind that stretches. The kind that means something.

And then, without thinking, you reach for him.

Your body moves like it’s on autopilot. Like a glass bottle with a small note inside that follows the sea’s current until it reaches land, the same way you approach Changbin, like a small wave crashing against the shore. You lift your hand, and grace his with your fingers. He looks at you like he’s a castaway, like he’s been waiting for this little bottled up note for decades.

He doesn’t pull away.

“Not caring won’t protect you,” you whisper. “It just makes you lonely.”

His breath stutters. You don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your lips, the way his grip tightens—like he’s fighting himself.

So you make the choice for him. You lean in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I may be asking for a lot from you,” you murmur, less than an inch away from his face. “But I want you to know… You’re not the only one who’s scared. You just… you don’t have to be alone.”

Changbin’s eyes flutter shut. A shaky exhale escapes him.

It crashes into him all at once.

God. He wants you.

He wants you in a way that terrifies him. In a way that makes his hands shake at his sides, makes his chest ache with something unbearable, something vast. It’s not just desire—it’s something deeper, something terrifyingly raw. He wants to press his forehead against yours and let his guard down for once. He wants to memorize the warmth of your skin, the way your lips feel against his. He wants to let himself have this, just for a second.

It makes him want you with an intensity that nearly buckles his knees, already wobbly from the shown fits of passion that have taken over him. He looks at you, and somehow he finds it impossible to identify who it is that stands in front of him. That has to be someone new. Someone that glowed with a kind of shimmer that fire could only aspire to achieve.

It’s almost unbearable. You’re too close, too warm, too everything. And he—he’s spent so long convincing himself that this is a bad idea, that wanting you is dangerous for his poor jaded heart, that if he gets too close, he’ll get burned.

You’re like fire. Mesmerizing, consuming. Beautiful in a way that’s almost cruel. A force of nature he shouldn’t touch but can’t look away from. He knows fire can destroy, but it also warms. It keeps people alive. It saves.

And suddenly, all his reasons, all his carefully built walls, feel like nothing but paper.

He curses under his breath, his resolve crumbling to ash.

And then, after a long, long beat—

He moves.

“You’re not drunk,” he mumbles.

You blink, momentarily confused. “Of course not. What does that have to do with—”

He kisses you.

It’s soft—so soft—but there’s something desperate beneath it, something like surrender.

When he pulls away just enough to breathe, his forehead still brushing against yours, his voice is barely more than a whisper—

“I said that if you weren’t drunk, I’d kiss you back.”

His eyes flicker to yours, searching, waiting—

And then, slowly, carefully, he kisses you again.

It’s slow, deliberate—like he wants to memorize every second. His hands move down, one slipping to the small of your back, the other resting at the curve of your jaw. His lips move against yours with a kind of reverence, like he’s drinking you in, like this isn’t just a kiss but something deeper, something sacred.

When he finally pulls away, he stays close, his breath fanning over your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, and the way he looks at you—like you’re something fragile, something precious—makes your heart ache.

“If you happen to be some kind of magician, and you’ve made me drink some cheesy love potion, you better confess,” he mumbles with a small smile.

You chuckle in his arms. “If anything, you could’ve voodooed me while I was asleep in the hospital, for all I know.”

He wants to keep teasing you, but he can’t help but lick his lips. “Say, miss voodoo, can I kiss you again?”

“Only if you’ll keep drinking my love potion.”

Oh, he will.

His lips brush against yours like a question.

It’s barely there at first—just a press, a test, a quiet is this okay? lingering in the space between. He lingers, not pulling away but not deepening it, his hands still trembling where they frame your face.

And then you move.

The smallest shift, the gentlest push closer, and it’s like something inside him breaks. His breath shudders against your skin before he kisses you again, firmer this time, sinking into you like he’s finally stopped running.

It’s not slow, not careful. It’s rushed, almost clumsy, a collision of breath and heat and too many unsaid things. His hands are everywhere at once—one cupping your jaw, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel you, needs proof that this is real and not just something he’s imagined too many times in the quiet of his mind.

You gasp against his mouth, startled by the sheer force of it, but then you’re kissing him back just as desperately. There’s nothing delicate about it. It’s messy and uneven, full of too many emotions to name, and Changbin doesn’t care if it’s reckless, if it’s stupid, if it’s dangerous.

You make a noise against his lips, soft but surprised, and he groans low in his throat, like the sound alone could undo him. His fingers flex against your skin before sliding up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head, deepening the kiss.

It’s fire—spreading fast, consuming everything. He’s gripping at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s spent too long pretending he didn’t want this and now he can’t stop.

And maybe he doesn’t want to.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, and you shiver—whether from the touch or the sheer intensity of him, you don’t know. But your hands are already fisting into his shirt, holding him in place like you need him just as much as he needs you.

A breath. A pause.

His forehead rests against yours, his chest heaving. His hands don’t let go. Neither do yours.

When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“…I shouldn’t have done that.”

But he still hasn’t let go.

“Then don’t keep doing it.”

Changbin barely has a second to process your words before your lips crash against his again.

It’s all heat, all hunger—no hesitation, no second-guessing. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and whatever restraint he had left shatters completely.

He groans into the kiss, his grip tightening at your waist, at the back of your neck, anywhere he can hold you. You’re pressed together like you could somehow mold into one, his body flush against yours, and god—he’s lost. He’s so impossibly lost in the way you taste, the way your breath hitches when he moves, the way you kiss him like you’ve been waiting for this just as long as he has.

He’s done fighting it.

You push at him, just enough to get him stumbling back a step, and he lets you, lets you take, lets you have him, because he’s too far gone to do anything else. His back hits the wall, and you follow, hands skimming up his chest, nails scratching lightly through the fabric. He shudders, his breath ragged against your lips, and then he’s kissing you harder, like he wants to drown in you.

There’s nothing careful about this. It’s messy, desperate, consuming—like the both of you have been starved for too long. Like neither of you know how to stop.

And for once, he doesn’t want to. He won’t even dare to attempt to.

Your fingers, desperate and eager, slip beneath the neckline of his shirt. You just want to feel him, the warmth of his skin, the way his heartbeat thrums beneath your touch. But then—

You freeze.

The pads of your fingers graze over something rough, uneven. Scratches. Your breath catches as you pull back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting lightly against his collarbone. Your eyes flicker to his, searching.

Changbin just smirks, breathless, his lips kiss-bruised and slightly swollen. His hands stay firm at your waist, like he doesn’t want you to move too far away.

“Oh, yeah,” he exhales, voice low, almost amused. “Those are yours.”

Your stomach flips. “Mine?”

“From the fire.” His thumb traces slow circles at your hip, grounding, steady. “You really didn’t wanna let go.”

Your heart clenches. You remember the way your hands had scrambled for anything to hold onto, how the fear had overtaken every rational thought, how his presence had been the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Your fingers twitch against his skin. He watches you carefully, eyes darker, unreadable.

For a moment, you just stare at him, your lips parted, your breathing uneven. And then, slowly, like you’re rediscovering him, your fingers trace over the scratches again—softer this time. His jaw flexes, his breath shallow.

“I—” You swallow, unsure of what you want to say.

He leans in just enough to brush his nose against yours.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind getting more of those again.”

You meet his gaze, and something about the way he’s looking at you—like he’d let you choose, like he’d let you leave if you wanted to, even if it killed him—makes you tighten your grip on his shirt.

“Still wanna stop?” he mumbles.

“No,” you whisper.

And you kiss him again.

His lips are on yours, and you’re both breathless, both not stopping.

You know you should. Probably. Maybe.

But then his hands are on your waist, and your fingers are pulling at his shirt, and stopping seems like the least reasonable thing in the world.

Changbin groans against your lips, his fingers tightening just a little, like he’s about to pull you impossibly closer—but then he forces himself to pause. His forehead presses against yours, his breathing uneven.

"We should stop."

You nod, still catching your breath. "Yeah. We should."

Neither of you moves.

His nose brushes against yours, and his fingers splay over your lower back, not pulling you in, but not letting you go.

A few seconds stretch between you.

Then you kiss him again.

"We’re not stopping," he mumbles, laughing against your lips.

"We are," you insist, kissing him again just to prove a point. "Just... very, very slowly."

Changbin laughs—full and warm—and buries his face against your shoulder. "You’re the worst."

"And yet, here you are," you tease, tracing your fingers along the nape of his neck, your touch just barely enough to make him shudder.

He exhales sharply. "You're—" but he doesn’t finish, because his lips are back on yours, and you’re smiling too much into the kiss to care.

His hands skim up your sides, then hesitate. "We really should stop."

"You first."

His lips press into a thin line, like he’s actually considering it.

Then—he kisses you again.

"We’re doing an awful job at this," he mumbles.

You just grin against his mouth. "Eh. Maybe we should keep practicing."

Changbin huffs another laugh, his forehead knocking against yours.

"Slow," he reminds you, but he's still kissing you, still laughing when you chase after his lips.

"Very, very slow," you agree, though neither of you stops.

"You know I'm still scared shitless, right?" He mumbles.

"I know," you whisper.

Your fingers find the back of his neck again, tracing slow, aimless patterns against his skin. He exhales sharply at the touch, like it makes something in him settle, like it reminds him he’s here. With you.

His forehead rests against yours, and for a second, you just breathe together.

"I don’t know how to do this," he admits, voice rough. “I’ve actually never done this. Not when it’s—when it’s like this."

"Like what?" you ask softly.

His hands tighten around your waist. "Real."

The word hangs in the air between you, delicate and terrifying.

Your chest aches. You bring a hand up to his face, fingers skimming the curve of his jaw, feeling the way he leans into it despite himself.

"We’ll figure it out," you say, your voice steady. "Together."

Changbin swallows. His lips part like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"Slow," he mumbles again, a reminder more for himself than for you.

"Very, very slow," you echo, smiling softly.

[.]

The sun is brighter now, spilling warmth onto the pavement as the two of you walk side by side. The morning air still carries a lingering chill, but it’s nothing compared to the heat simmering low in your chest—because he’s here. Because you’re here, together.

Changbin’s hands are in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s still adjusting to the ease of this. Like some part of him is waiting for reality to snap back, for this fragile, quiet thing between you to slip away. But then you nudge his arm with your elbow, grinning when he glances at you.

“You’re quiet,” you say.

He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re loud.”

You gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. “Wow. I see how it is.”

And there it is—the smallest laugh, a breath of amusement that he probably doesn’t even realize slipped out. But you do. You hear it. Feel it settle somewhere deep inside you, warm and bright.

You don’t tease him for it, though. Just smile to yourself as you walk, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you.

It’s not long before you reach the café, a small, tucked-away place with fogged-up windows and the smell of fresh bread spilling out as soon as you step inside. It’s cozy, the kind of place that’s always just a little too warm, where the sound of quiet conversations blends into the soft clatter of cups and silverware.

Changbin lets you lead, following as you slide into a booth by the window. You notice, with no small amount of amusement, that he glances at the menu like it’s a life-or-death decision.

“Okay,” you say, resting your chin on your hand. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He sighs, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I just don’t know what to get.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re acting like we’re planning a heist.”

“This is important,” he says, dead serious. “Breakfast is important.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. “Okay, okay, we’ll take it seriously.”

You lean across the table a little, pretending to study the menu intently. Then, with the most solemn expression you can muster, you say, “I think you should get the pancakes.”

Changbin narrows his eyes at you. “You just want to steal my food.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “How dare you.”

He just shakes his head, but there’s something lighter in his expression now. Something warm. You can feel it in the way his shoulders have lost their tension, in the way he doesn’t immediately catch himself when he smiles.

And maybe that’s when it hits him.

Because when was the last time he felt this at ease? When was the last time he let himself just be, without second-guessing, without worrying about what comes next?

But the thought barely has time to settle before the server comes over, and you—grinning mischievously—order the pancakes for him before he can protest.

He groans, dropping his head onto the table, and you laugh, reaching out to poke his arm.

“Too late,” you say, sing-song. “You’re having pancakes.”

“You’re actually the worst,” he mutters into his arms.

When the food finally arrives, the scent of butter and syrup fills the air, making your stomach grumble. The server places the plates down—your simple breakfast and his stack of golden pancakes, soft and fluffy, drizzled with just the right amount of syrup.

Changbin sighs dramatically, shaking his head as he picks up his fork. “I still can’t believe you ordered for me.”

“You hesitated. That makes your food my decision,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. “Those are the rules.”

He snorts. “What rules?”

“The rules of life,” you say wisely, cutting a piece of your own food. “It’s like the five-second rule. Universal.”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, not convinced. But when he takes his first bite, his brows lift slightly, and you know—you just know—that you were right.

“Good, huh?” you tease, kicking his foot lightly under the table.

He chews, glares at you, and reluctantly nods. “Shut up.”

You grin, pleased, and reach for another piece of your food. But before your fork even touches your plate, Changbin moves—fast, precise, absolutely merciless—and steals a bite off yours instead.

“Hey!” You gawk at him. “I thought you were mad at me for stealing your food!”

He shrugs, chewing with an infuriatingly smug expression. “What’s that thing you said? The rules of life?”

You gape at him. “Oh, so now you believe in them?”

“Only when they work in my favor.” He takes another bite of his pancakes, this time smugly not looking at you.

You shake your head, laughing softly. He’s comfortable. Really comfortable. The way he leans back against the seat, the way his shoulders aren’t so rigid, the way he keeps making these quiet little comments—this isn’t the Changbin from your last moments at the hospital, nor the one that wanted to leave less than a couple hours ago, tense and unreadable.

And something about that realization settles in your chest, warm and soft.

You nudge his foot again.

“I like you like this.”

He pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. “Like what?”

“Like…” You tilt your head, studying him. “Like you don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

His expression shifts, subtle but unmistakable. His lips press together, like he doesn’t quite know what to say.

And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t know how to put it into words—the way this feels different, the way it feels light in a way he’s not used to.

But then you steal a piece of his pancake. On purpose this time.

“Wow,” he says flatly. “Unbelievable.”

You smirk, popping it into your mouth. “It’s just the rules of life, gorgeous.”

At first, you expect him to laugh. He’s called you that enough times that it can almost seem like a joke between you two. But this must be different, because this time, his ears turn red.

Changbin chokes on his bite. Your grin widens.

“No way.”

He pouts, quite literally looking like the definition of angy, stabbing at his food. He’s avoiding your eyes, but it doesn’t matter—you can see it. The way the tips of his ears turn red first, the color creeping down to his jaw, spreading over his cheeks. His lips press together, twitching at the corners like he’s fighting the urge to react, but his body betrays him—shoulders just a little stiffer, hand flexing against the table, chewing on the inside of his cheek like that’ll somehow will away the warmth blooming across his face.

You grin, eyes lighting up.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He groans, head dropping into his hand.

The warmth in his face refuses to fade. Changbin clenches his jaw, focusing intently on his plate, but the word still echoes in his head—gorgeous. It lingers, settling under his skin, unraveling him in a way he hadn’t expected. He’s called you that plenty of times now, not expecting you to do anything about it —almost like a reflex when he first met you and wanted to get you out of danger as soon as possible, not wanting to dwell on presentations. But hearing it from you —soft, certain, like you meant it— knocks the air from his lungs. His chest feels tight, and he can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something deeper, something more dangerous.

And then, because the universe clearly has it out for him, he looks up. You’re watching him, a teasing glint in your eyes, your lips curled in amusement like you’re enjoying this. Oh, you’re so enjoying this. Heat crawls up his neck, pooling at the tips of his ears, and he has to resist the urge to fidget. His grip on his fork tightens, his pulse stuttering as you tilt your head, waiting, expectant. Changbin swallows hard and looks back at his plate. Goddamn it.

You lean forward on your elbows, eyes shining with mischief. “Wow. So that’s what it takes to get under your skin, huh, mister firefighter?”

Changbin mutters something under his breath that you think is a string of very creative curses.

“You’re still red.”

“I’m not.”

“Again, you so are.”

He locks his eyes down at his pancakes, nodding to you, faking nonchalance. “Eat your food.”

You grin. “Sure thing, gorgeous.”

He groans, head dropping into his hand, hiding a smile.

The café hums softly around them—low chatter, the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic, the distant hiss of an espresso machine. But at their table, there’s a different kind of quiet. A comfortable one. They eat, occasionally meeting each other’s eyes, sometimes just exchanging small, knowing smiles.

Then, just as Changbin takes another bite, you break the silence.

“I really like you.”

He nearly chokes again. It’s almost offensive to him that you don’t even blink. You just rest your chin on your hand, watching him with an amused tilt of your head. He swallows, setting his fork down carefully, but before he can gather his thoughts, you continue.

“But,” you say, drawing out the word like you’re making a serious declaration, “I’ve decided that if this is going to work, I need to get to know you. Like, the real you.”

Changbin tenses. There’s a split second where his mind jumps to something serious—his job, the things he’s seen, the weight of what he hasn’t told you yet, not fully—but then he notices the playful glint in your eyes. Still, his shoulders stay tight. His fingers twitch slightly against the table.

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes at him like you’re analyzing something incredibly important.

“So,” you say, very slowly, as if you’re about to ask the most crucial question of all. His stomach twists, but he hums as he waits for the question to hit him.

“Pineapple on pizza?”

He blinks.

“…What?”

“Well?” You squint harder, like you’re studying him.

“Eh… No?”

You nod solemnly, as if this is of great importance.

“Good choice.”

His lips twitch, amused despite himself. “Was that a test?”

You wave a hand. “It’s all a test, gorgeous” Then, before he can roll his eyes and blush even more, you continue, rapid-fire. “Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

“Respectable.” You nod again. “Favorite movie?”

He shrugs. “Depends. Maybe Inception?”

“Hm. A little pretentious, but I’ll allow it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the questions,” you shoot back, tapping your fingers against the table. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee.”

“What’s your go-to order?”

“Americano.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Of course it is.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Meanie. What’s yours?”

“Cappuccino, of course. The more sugar, the better.”

He pushes his glasses as a reflex when he smiles. “Okay, your turn again. What’s your favorite movie?”

You smirk. “Shrek 2.”

Changbin nearly drops his fork. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” You sip your drink with an air of absolute confidence. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

He stares at you for a moment, then bursts into laughter. It’s deep and warm, and the sound of it makes your chest feel lighter.

“Why not the first one?” He chuckles, trying to calm down his laughter.

But you gasp, clutching your chest like he’s just mortally wounded you. “Excuse me? Shrek 2 is objectively superior.”

Changbin shakes his head, chuckling. “The first one is a classic, though.”

“Yeah, but the second one improves on the first in every way,” you argue, leaning forward. “Better animation. Funnier jokes. A soundtrack that goes so hard.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You’re really passionate about this.”

“As I should be.” You tilt your chin up, feigning indignation. “I mean, come on. ‘I Need a Hero’? The giant gingerbread man? The fairy godmother?” You shake your head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you’re even questioning this.”

Changbin lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you the soundtrack.”

“Damn right, you will.” You take a triumphant sip of your drink.

He watches you, still smiling, and something in his chest feels a little lighter. Maybe taking it slow is just what he needs.

Changbin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright, since we’re debating classics—best animated movie of all time.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pretending to consider. “Shrek 2.”

He groans. “You just said that!”

“Because, it is the best animated movie of all time.”

Changbin shakes his head, exasperated but grinning. “You have so many options, and you’re really sticking with that?”

“Yes. Final answer. Locking it in.” You mime pressing a game-show buzzer.

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You smirk, taking another sip of your drink. “Alright, fine. What’s your pick?”

He hums, pretending to consider. “Maybe The Lion King?”

You snort. “Basic.”

Changbin gapes at you. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a great movie, don’t get me wrong,” you say, waving a hand. “But it’s the safe choice. Everyone picks The Lion King. Bet you there isn’t one single person alive who doesn’t at least tolerate that movie.”

“Okay, chill, miss Shrek 2,” he teases, leaning back in his chair.

You gasp dramatically. “How dare you?”

He grins, eyes glinting with amusement. “Alright, what about How to Train Your Dragon?”

You purse your lips, pretending to weigh the choice. “Now that is a respectable answer.”

Changbin huffs. “Oh, so that one’s allowed?”

“It has dragons. And a banger soundtrack,” you say matter-of-factly.

“I see where your priorities lie.”

“Obviously,” you say with a playful shrug.

He watches you, something warm in his chest. The teasing, the way you light up when you argue over something ridiculous—it’s all so easy. For the first time in a long time, he’s not thinking about what comes next. He’s just here.

He’s having so much fun, he’s not looking at his phone, that lights up in several text bubbles. Neither do you… yet.

“Okay, back to the real thing, ‘cause I ask the questions here,” you giggle. “Favourite colour…” He’s about to answer, but then you finish the sentence “and why.”

Changbin pauses, caught off guard. “And why?”

You nod solemnly. “Yep. No basic one-word answers. I need reasons.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You take this very seriously.”

“Of course,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “This is a crucial part of getting to know someone. What if you said, I don’t know, neon brown? What if you had bad taste?”

Changbin snorts. “Good thing I don’t, then.”

“Debatable,” you tease. “Now answer.”

He thinks for a second, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the table. “I guess… blue?”

You stare at him, then blink, expectantly.

He blinks. “What?”

“I’m skipping the fact that it’s basic. But you’re missing the why, silly,” you remind him, amused.

He exhales through his nose, lips twitching. “I don’t know. It’s calming? Feels steady, I guess.”

You nod, like you’re analyzing his answer. “Alright. Safe choice. Could be worse.”

“Could be worse?” he echoes, laughing. “What’s your favorite color, then?”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending to think. “Magenta.”

His brow furrows. “Why?”

You smirk. “Because it’s fun watching people’s faces when I say it.”

Changbin groans, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

You grin. “Took you this long to figure that out?” Your nibble on your lip, sighing softly. “No, but honestly, white is my favourite. It reflects all other colours,” you smile, a bit to yourself, like you’re suddenly sheepish about the answer.

Changbin leans back slightly in his seat, surprised by your answer. “White, huh? I thought you’d go for something bolder.”

You chuckle, tapping your finger on your chin like you’re contemplating the question seriously. “I like simplicity. But, I guess if I’m being honest, it’s more than just that.”

He watches you closely, waiting for you to elaborate. “How so?”

You meet his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s like… it’s not just a color, it’s everything and nothing all at once. It’s light at its highest, but it can also be anything, depending on what you choose to add to it.”

Changbin nods thoughtfully. “That feels deep for a favorite color.”

You laugh at his mock surprise. “I’m full of surprises, mister firefighter.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a warmth in his smile. “Guess I’m starting to realize that.”

You both take a moment, the conversation slowing, but only for a beat before you press on with another silly question. “Alright, next one. Worst movie you’ve ever seen?”

Changbin groans dramatically, leaning forward with a deep sigh, clearly dreading the question. “I don’t know if I can pick just one.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. There has to be one that stands out.”

He thinks for a moment, then chuckles, clearly defeated. “Fine. I saw this movie once where they tried to make a romance out of a giant robot and a girl. It was… painful.”

You laugh out loud at the absurdity. “That sounds awful. What was it called?”

“Don’t even remember the name,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “But it’s probably better that way.”

You both laugh, the comfortable silence that follows feeling easy and natural, as though you’ve just found a rhythm in each other’s company.

“Yours?” He smiles.

“Ouf,” you grimace. “I can’t pick just one,” you lick your lips, counting on your fingers. “The entire Twilight saga, the entire After saga, several disney sequels, Emilia Pérez…”

Changbin chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “I knew you had taste, but… the entire Twilight saga? That’s pretty brutal.”

You shrug dramatically, as if the weight of such a decision is too much. “It’s a public service to warn people about those kinds of movies,” you say, deadpan. “It’s honestly a sacrifice for humanity. I’ll wear that badge with fucking honour.”

He snorts at that, clearly amused. “And the Disney sequels? You didn’t even give those a chance?”

“Ha,” you laugh, “no. Just no.”

Changbin nods sagely, like he fully understands the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, I get it. Some things are better left in the past.”

You both laugh, shaking your heads at the ridiculousness of the movies, and the conversation eases into a comfortable rhythm of banter, silly questions, and sharing opinions that feel like little windows into who you each are. There’s no pressure, no tension—just a growing sense of ease between the two of you.

“No, but, seriously. Say, Pocahontas 2? It defeats almost everything the first movie ever accomplished. And Mulan 2 ruined Mushu. I’ll never forgive them for that.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by your passion. “Wait, Mulan 2?” He chuckles, leaning forward a little. “You really have strong feelings about this.”

“Don’t get me started,” you warn, your voice mock-serious. “They turned Mushu into a bitchass joke, which is high treason. Like, in Mulan’s whole vibe he’s supposed to be that chaotic, but lovable force. Instead, they made it into this weird ‘let’s make Mushu annoying as he tries to break up Mulan and Shan, and let’s not have fight scenes��, which is all major bullshit if you ask me.”

He laughs harder now, clearly enjoying your animated rant. “I can tell this is a serious matter to you. Alright, alright, I won’t argue. What about Pocahontas 2, though?”

You nod gravely, your expression deadpan as you lean in closer. “The entire premise is just… wrong. It completely misses the mark of the first movie, which had so much depth. The CGI is a joke, breaking up Pocahontas and John Smith is just criminal, and I don’t care if that happened historically, because there was no need to use that. And the only funny guy was this gigantic dude from the tribe that almost never spoke. Imagine that.”

He laughs again, this time shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m honestly impressed by how much you care about these movies.”

“I mean, I could write an essay,” you smirk, “But I’ll spare you the dissertation for now.”

“Please don’t,” he says with a grin. “I’m already regretting asking.”

“Don’t you watch any movies?” You scoff. “You’re making me feel like a geek,” you chuckle.

Changbin shrugs with a teasing smile, leaning back in his chair. “I watch movies, but I don’t think I’ve ever cared enough to dissect the sequels like you do.” He pauses, then smirks. “Maybe I should start taking notes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Please do, so next time I can drag you into a two-hour debate on how The Lion King 2 doesn’t make sense with the original.”

“That sounds terrifying,” he laughs, but the way he looks at you is soft, like he genuinely enjoys the banter. “Maybe you can teach me the ways of movie critique.”

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him a smirk. “Oh, it’s a tough job. You have to be deeply invested in fictional heartbreak and plot holes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he grins. “But I’d rather listen to you talk about it.”

You blink. You feel your face turn red and your mouth turn dry.

“Oh,” he smirks. “Look who’s blushing now.”

You blink, feeling your face heat up, your heart rate picking up. “What—what do you mean?” you stutter, trying to shake off the sudden shyness that creeps up on you.

“Oh, I’m just saying,” he smirks, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “You’re looking a little… red there.”

“I— I’m not,” you protest, but your voice cracks a little, betraying you.

He chuckles, watching you try to compose yourself. “Sure, you’re not.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “Well, maybe you’re just making me nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Am I?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something warm in his gaze.

You can’t help but laugh, despite the blush that still hasn’t quite faded from your cheeks. “You’re terrible.”

“Somehow, you don’t seem to dislike it,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the smile that threatens to break through. “Maybe I don’t,” you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His expression softens, and there’s a brief silence between you two. “Good,” he says quietly, his smile genuine. “I like you too.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and for the first time, the teasing fades into something more sincere.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You lick your lips, trying to silence the big, loud, would you like to stay forever?! your heart wants to let out. “I figured you’ll probably have to head to the station because your phone keeps getting messages you’re ignoring, so that’s probably work. But we can watch a movie, maybe? If you’d like?”

Changbin doesn’t have the heart —or the guts— to tell you that it’s actually his friends’ group chat going crazy at the fact that he left the station for a girl and didn't go back home at night after Hyunjin ratted him out like the dramatic hoe he is. All in good spirit, of course.

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, uh… probably should check in at some point.”

You nod, trying to act casual, but your fingers fidget slightly against the edge of your cup. “Right. Makes sense.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he shifts, scratching the back of his neck. “But, uh… yeah, dinner sounds nice.”

Your eyes snap back to his, glowing. “Yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh, looking almost bashful. “Yeah.”

You smile, tilting your head slightly. “Even if I make you watch a movie?”

“Depends on the movie,” he teases, lifting a brow.

You squint at him in mock suspicion. “You don’t get to judge my taste after you admitted to barely watching any.”

“Fair point,” he concedes with a smirk. “I’ll take my chances.”

He still doesn’t check his phone, and you don’t ask again. Maybe you both know that the second he does, the real world will come knocking—and for now, you’d rather just stay right here.

“Any movie you’ve been waiting to watch?”

Changbin hums, pretending to think. “Dunno… What's that one? Pocahontas 2?”

Your mouth falls open in sheer offense. “You’re evil.”

He grins, leaning back. “What? You brought it up.”

“You don’t actually want to watch Pocahontas 2.”

“No, but I do kinda want to see you suffer through it.”

“You’re the worst.” You narrow your eyes at him, pointing your spoon like a weapon. “I take back my dinner invitation.”

He chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave. Pick whatever you want. I promise I won’t complain.”

You squint at him for a second, like you don’t quite believe him, then relax with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if we’re watching something I like, you better at least pretend to enjoy it.”

Changbin smirks. “No promises.”

“Watch me put Fight Club and then see who ends up more riled up.” You cackle.

Changbin raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you think I’d be the one getting riled up?”

You snort. “I’d put money on it.”

He leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “You do know what Fight Club is about, right?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Do you?”

His grin widens. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s about repressed masculinity, societal alienation, and—”

“Oh, so you do know,” he chuckles, tilting his head. “I was half-expecting you to say, ‘hot guys punching each other.’”

“Well, that too,” you admit, laughing. “But mostly, I just want to see you try to sit still when the chaos kicks in.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You really think that’d get to me?”

“Absolutely.” You flash him a teasing grin. “But you’ll have to say yes to dinner first.”

Changbin exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. “You’re sneaky.”

You shrug, grinning. “I prefer persuasive.”

He watches you for a second, then licks his lips. “Alright,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Dinner and a movie.”

You try not to look too pleased with yourself, but you’re pretty sure you fail. “Good choice.”

His eyes narrow playfully. “Will you say that every time I agree with you?”

“Maybe,” you hum, picking at the last bits of your food. “Depends on if you keep making good choices.”

He huffs a laugh, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to figure you out, but there’s no frustration behind it—just something warm, something settled.

You glance at your watch, then back at him. “So, what do you say? You go check in at the station, I go buy groceries, and then we meet back at mine for dinner?”

Changbin taps his fingers against the table, pretending to consider it. “Only if I get a say in the menu.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. What do you want?”

He leans in slightly, lips quirking. “Do you put pineapple on pizza?”

Your jaw drops. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He laughs—full, deep, genuine. And you realize, in that moment, just how much you love hearing it.

“Actually, new question,” you smile. “Popcorn. Sweet? Salty? With toppings, like, I don’t know, butter?”

Changbin raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the sudden shift. “You’re really going all in with the hard-hitting questions, huh?”

You lean in, your tone playful. “You’d be surprised how much popcorn says about a person.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Alright, hit me with your answer then.”

You grin, tapping your chin for dramatic effect. “Well, popcorn with butter, of course. None of that sweet nonsense.”

Changbin looks taken aback, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Wait, you don’t like sweet popcorn?”

“No way,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Sweet popcorn defeats the purpose of popcorn in the first place. It’s supposed to be salty, savory. The butter… the butter is key!”

He looks skeptical, leaning back in his chair. “But isn’t that too greasy? You need a balance, right?”

You cross your arms, looking at him like he’s just committed a grave sin. “Nope. Sweet popcorn’s a crime against snack time. It’s like… I don’t know, mixing fruit with pizza. It just doesn’t belong.”

Changbin chuckles, clearly entertained. “I think I’m gonna need to try it for myself just to see how bad it really is.”

You shake your head with mock seriousness. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re about to taste betrayal in snack form.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll stick with the salty. For now.”

“Good choice,” you nod solemnly, smiling. “You have no idea how much you just redeemed yourself.”

You both burst into laughter, the easy rhythm of conversation making everything feel comfortable, almost effortless. Changbin leans back in the booth, still chuckling, but his gaze lingers on you a moment longer than usual, his smile softening.

“So,” he says after a beat, his tone lighter but with a hint of curiosity, “What about the toppings? You’ve gotta have a favorite, right?”

You think for a second, then grin. “It’s gotta be extra butter. Like, not just a drizzle, but a full-on soaking. You know? I’m talking enough butter to make your fingers greasy after every handful.”

Changbin chuckles again, shaking his head. “I should’ve known. You’re a butter enthusiast.”

“Guilty as charged.” You grin. “What about you?

He shrugs with a grin, clearly amused by the whole conversation. “I can do butter, I guess. But I’m not one for too much of it. I’m a simple kind of guy when it comes to snacks.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully, feigning surprise. “Wait, you’re telling me you’re a popcorn minimalist? You need to step up your game, man.”

He leans forward, his expression mischievous. “Maybe, but I’ll tell you this: I’m not about to ruin a perfectly good snack with too much of anything. Just a little butter, maybe some salt, and that’s it.”

You shake your head, laughing again. “That’s a shame. You’ll never experience true popcorn bliss.” You pause, leaning in slightly, voice dropping just a little. “But maybe I can teach you. You know… for the greater good.”

Changbin chuckles, his gaze flickering to yours. “You know, I might just take you up on that offer.” His smile deepens, and you catch the playful warmth in his eyes.

The moment stretches between you, easy and warm, and for a second, everything outside this little bubble of comfort fades into the background.

As the last bite of food is eaten, the table falls into a comfortable silence. You both sit back, stretching slightly, content after the meal. Your eyes wander briefly to the surroundings, the quiet buzz of the café becoming more evident now that the noise of chewing and talking has slowed.

But just as the last fork is put down, you see the server moving toward your table, a polite smile on their face as they prepare to clear the plates.

Without thinking, you both reach for the same plate at the same time, your hands brushing lightly against Changbin’s. For a split second, you both pause, meeting each other’s eyes. The smile that tugs at your lips is playful, teasing.

You wink at him, a small spark of amusement in your eyes. “Good choice,” you say, your voice light and teasing.

Changbin’s lips curl into a grin, his gaze holding yours a little longer than usual. He chuckles softly, the look in his eyes giving away how much he enjoys this moment. “Guess we’re on the same wavelength,” he says, his voice low, almost like a whisper.

The server arrives, and you both slide the plates together, stacking them without missing a beat. The act feels almost automatic, yet somehow intimate in its simplicity.

The server gives you a polite nod, taking the stack of plates. “I’ll be back with the check,” they say, before heading off.

You and Changbin exchange a quick glance, the silence between you comfortable, easy. “That was a good move,” you comment, leaning back in your seat.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a soft, content smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, not bad,” he murmurs, eyes glancing back at you with a hint of fondness.

You both relax into the moment, a sense of quiet connection settling between you.

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on your lips. “Is that your go-to move to make girls swoon?” you ask, leaning in just a little, the playful tone clear in your voice. “Being nice to the server?”

Changbin’s smile widens, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. He leans back in his seat, arms casually crossed. “Oh, absolutely,” he says with mock seriousness. “It’s all about the service skills.”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

He raises an eyebrow, as if to challenge you. “Why? Is it working?”

“Definitely,” you reply with a smirk, your voice light and teasing. “I mean, I can see how your charm would be irresistible.”

Seo laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, but there’s a warmth in his gaze. “You’re dangerous with that sarcasm, you know that?”

You shrug playfully, a smile still lingering on your lips. “I just speak the truth,” you say, leaning back in your chair, your eyes never leaving his.

He chuckles softly, the laughter lingering in his eyes. Changbin pushes his chair back, stretching slightly. “Be right back,” he says casually before heading toward the back of the café. You barely think twice about it, stirring the last bits of your drink with your straw as you glance around.

A few moments pass, and when you catch the server’s attention to ask for the check, they shake their head with a polite smile. Confused, you blink before realization dawns on you.

You turn just in time to see Seo returning to the table, looking far too pleased with himself. He slides back into his seat like nothing happened, his expression perfectly neutral—except for the barely concealed amusement in his eyes.

He can almost sense it in your face that you’re going to complain, and once your eyes widen, he chuckles sheepishly, smiling.

“I mean, who would want to miss out on the chance to pay for a beautiful girl’s breakfast?”

He notices you still squinting at him when you both exit the café.

“Don’t be like that,” he nuzzles you with his elbow playfully. “You’ll pay for dinner, basically,” he pointed out.

You huffed, faking annoyance. “This isn’t over,” you threatened, letting out a laugh.

“I sure hope not,” he smiles softly, staring at the floor, chuckling sheepishly as you both head back to your house.

“See you for dinner,” you grin, waving your hand.

He lifts his helmet’s visor, sitting on his bike, and with a blush on his face that you can’t see, winks at you.

He can’t wait.

[♦️☆🔥☆♦️]

a/n: AND NEITHER CAN I 😭‼️💕

~kats, who had to change the structure of the chapters because she reached the fucking text limit in a post.

catiuskaa, april 2025 ©

ep 3 will be out next monday! <3

63 notes · View notes

lia-linny · 27 days ago

Text

summary: To keep their annoying classmates at bay, Changbin and YN decide to make a fake dating deal. But as time goes by, more and more real feelings are mixed in with the fake ones.

words: 4.7k

genre: fluff, highschool au

The cafeteria buzzed with its usual cacophony a symphony of voices interwoven with the clatter of trays and the occasional shout thrown across the room. Yn sat in her customary place, positioned on the fringes of the commotion. Her friends, enrolled in higher classes, had their lunch break later, leaving her to dine alone, often lost in the embrace of a book.

Today was no different. Or rather, it should have been. Yet, something else tugged at her attention. Instead of vanishing into the pages before her, she found herself staring absently at her plate, willing herself to ignore the jeers from the next table.

"Hey, Yn! Still single? Have you even tried, or does no one want you?" Laughter followed, sharp and grating. Heat crept up her neck, but she did not respond. She was used to this. It was routine. All she had to do was feign indifference, pretend she hadn’t even heard.

"Maybe she’s waiting for ‘the right one,’" someone sneered.

"Can’t you mind your own business for once?" The voice cut through the laughter like a blade, its edge unmistakably sharp. Yn blinked, startled. Changbin. He was seated a few tables away with his popular circle of friends, yet now he had turned toward them, brows drawn together in quiet disapproval. His usual playful smirk was nowhere to be found.

"What’s it to you, bro?"

"Nothing at all. But if you’re going to be loud enough for half the school to hear, then surely I’m allowed to comment as well." Silence fell over the group, and with a satisfied shrug, Changbin returned to his meal as if nothing had happened.

Yn, however, found her pulse inexplicably unsteady. She hated being rescued. Or maybe it was the mere fact that he had interfered at all. She exhaled sharply, reaching for her water bottle, only to struggle against the stubbornly sealed lid. The frustration mounted, her grip tightening, until she was a mere breath away from flinging the bottle across the room when suddenly, a presence settled beside her. Just like that.

"Hey." Changbin’s voice was warm, accompanied by an easy smile. Yn blinked, confusion flickering across her face.

"Uh… hi?" Without another word, he took the bottle from her grasp and twisted the cap open with effortless ease before sliding it back toward her. Yn could only stare, utterly dumbfounded.

"You’re going to think I’m completely crazy, but hear me out," he said, grinning now.

"And before you say no, just listen." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial.

"I have a problem. You have a problem. And I think we might just be able to help each other." Yn raised a skeptical brow. His grin widened.

"My friends have been trying to set me up with random girls for weeks. Last time, they nearly sent me on a blind date with Hyunjin’s cousin and she’s twelve." A startled laugh escaped her before she could suppress it.

"Sounds… interesting."

"Oh, you have no idea." He shook his head with exaggerated dismay.

"And I hear you’ve got a bit of a… situation yourself." Yn’s amusement faded, her gaze narrowing.

"Nothing serious. Just the usual high school nonsense," she said carefully. Changbin lifted his hands in mock surrender.

"I get it. But let’s be real" he inclined his head toward the table of jeering voices "they won’t stop unless they’re given a reason to." She exhaled, her stomach knotting.

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"Fake dating." Silence.

"What?!"

"You and me. The power couple of the season." He gestured grandly, as if crafting a headline.

"If we pretend to be together, my friends will quit setting me up. And for you? Well… those idiots over there won’t have anything left to say." Yn regarded him as though he had lost his mind. Changbin, however, lounged back in his chair, utterly unbothered, as if he had all the time in the world.

"And what if it all falls apart?" she asked at last, wary.

"Then it falls apart." He shrugged.

"Really, what do we have to lose?" A thousand reasons to say no ran through her mind. But instead, she lifted her chin, willing herself to appear composed.

"Alright." His eyes gleamed as he extended his hand.

"Deal?" Yn hesitated only for a breath before clasping his hand in hers.

"Deal."

~☆~

Monday morning arrived, and Yn was resolute this so-called relationship was to be kept as uneventful as possible. A few well-placed appearances together, some occasional hand-holding, nothing too conspicuous. Simple. Unremarkable.

But then came Changbin. The school doors swung open, and there he stood backpack slung effortlessly over one shoulder, that everpresent, mischievous grin playing on his lips, as if he found the entire world amusing. And to Yn’s absolute horror, his gaze locked onto hers, and he strode forward with unmistakable purpose.

"Good morning, Bunny!" His voice rang out, far too loud, echoing across the corridor like an announcement. Yn nearly choked on her to-go coffee. Before she could react, Changbin had already closed the distance, draping an arm around her shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Did you sleep well? I missed you sooo much." His words carried through the hallway, ensuring that no one missed them. Yn felt the weight of a dozen curious stares land on her like a tidal wave. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"Changbin!" she hissed under her breath, but he only leaned in, as if whispering a secret.

"First relationship gig. We have to make it convincing."

"That wasn’t the plan!" Too late.

"You and Changbin?! Since when…?" Yn barely had time to register her best friend, Chaeryeong, materializing beside them, eyes wide with astonishment.

"I thought you two were just…?"

"Well, surprise!" Changbin announced, flashing a dazzling grin. Chaeryeong’s mouth hung open.

"We wanted to take it slow," he added, "but we couldn’t keep it a secret anymore." Yn wished, prayed, for the earth to swallow her whole. But then Changbin looked at her, and in his eyes, she caught the tiniest flicker of something an unspoken question. Do you trust me? So she swallowed her pride, forced a smile, and nodded.

"Yes. Surprise." Her laugh was anything but natural. Chaeryeong still looked like she had just witnessed a miracle or a catastrophe.

"Yn! Oh my god! How? And more importantly, why didn’t you tell me you were dating such an idiot?" She placed her hands on her hips, looking as if she were personally offended by this turn of events. Changbin gasped in mock outrage.

"Excuse you, but I wooed her for months," he declared dramatically.

"Love letters, roses… I even wrote poetry. Very sentimental. She’s into that, you know." Yn smacked his chest lightly.

"In your dreams." Chaeryeong let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Yn-ie, I’m so happy for you!" Changbin shot Yn a wink, and despite herself, a small smile slipped onto her lips.

The moment the crowd had dispersed, Yn grabbed Changbin by the sleeve and yanked him into a quiet corner.

"Are you insane? What the hell was that all about?"

"Marketing, Bunny." He smirked, utterly unrepentant. "If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it properly. Now everyone believes us." He folded his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Be glad I didn’t show up in my 'I ♡ My GF' t-shirt." Yn exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temple.

"Changbin…" But his expression shifted just slightly. A rare moment of sincerity flickered in his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, "I know that was… a lot. But now they’ll stop bugging you. So… mission accomplished, right?" She sighed, relenting.

"I hate that you’re right." His grin returned in full force.

"You’ll get used to it." And as much as she fought it, she couldn’t shake the creeping suspicion that her fake boyfriend was beginning to feel a little too real.

~☆~

Yn stood outside the café, shifting nervously on her toes, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. She still wasn’t sure how she had ended up here a date with Changbin. Well, a fake date. But still.

"I must be out of my mind." She mutered under her breath.

"Nice of you to finally admit it." She winced and spun around. There he was grinning, warm and effortlessly self-assured. And, as always, dressed in black. Yn wondered if it was a fashion statement or just a habit. Either way, it suited him unfairly well.

"You’re late." She crossed her arms, more to keep from fidgeting than to scold him.

"Sorry, got caught up at the studio with Chan and Ji. But don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you, Bunny."

"Stop calling me Bunny."

"Uh-uh." He shook his head in mock disobedience, and before she could argue further, he took her hand and pulled her inside. That’s when it hit her that strange, crawling sensation of being watched. Yn’s stomach twisted. She could feel the eyes on them, hear the hushed whispers of classmates scattered throughout the café. Of course, they had chosen the one place where half their school tended to gather. Because why make this easy? Changbin, naturally, was unfazed. If anything, he seemed to revel in it.

"Our audience is here." Yn merely rolled her eyes, though she envied the ease with which he handled attention. But that was the whole point of tonight, wasn’t it? To make their "relationship" believable.

They settled into a corner table, ordering drinks, and before Yn knew it, she was caught up in the way Changbin talked about everything and nothing all at once. His words had a way of turning the mundane into something fascinating. The theory that his friend Jisung might secretly be an alien. That Minho was, in all likelihood, a cat trapped in a human body. Yn found herself laughing, her initial nervousness melting away.

"I don’t get how you manage to be so… funny all the time."

"Well, that’s just my natural charm." He flicked his wrist dramatically. But then, just as suddenly as he had been joking, he fell quiet. The light in his eyes dimmed, the ever-present humor slipping for just a second. And in its place, Yn saw something else. Something real.

"You know… it’s easier to make jokes than to show people when you’re not feeling okay." The words lingered in the air between them. Yn hesitated, unsure how to respond. So instead, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

"If you want, you can just be yourself with me." Changbin looked at her, and for the briefest of moments, everything about this about them didn’t feel fake at all. But then the waiter arrived, and just like that, the moment was gone. They stayed at the café for hours, talking until the sky outside deepened into twilight.

When it was finally time to leave, Changbin called for the bill and insisted on paying, waving off her protests with an easy grin. As they stepped outside, the evening air wrapped around them, crisp and cool. Yn shivered.

"So," she said, shifting from foot to foot, "I guess our first fake date was… a success?" Changbin smirked.

"I’d do it again."

"Dream on." He laughed at that, the sound rich and unbothered. And then, without warning, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and blew a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"Good night, Bunny." Yn stood frozen, her heart slamming against her ribs as she watched him walk away, his hands tucked into his pockets like he hadn’t just left her questioning everything. And she wondered if she wasn’t treading into dangerous territory.

~☆~

The weeks slipped through Yn’s fingers faster than she had expected, her fake boyfriend arrangement with Changbin taking up far more space in her life than she ever could have imagined. He was everywhere. Always there. Like now.

"Why are you sitting here?" Yn shot him a skeptical glance as he slid into the empty seat beside her in the middle of English class, completely unfazed. Changbin only grinned, tilting his chair back as if he owned the place.

"Because I missed my Bunny." He winked and Yn sighed, exasperated.

"Changbin..."

"What? I have to make this convincing." He shrugged, all innocence. But his eyes sparkled he knew exactly what he was doing. The teacher began the lesson, but Yn could barely concentrate. Not when she was hyper-aware of him the warmth of his presence, the way his arm brushed hers just barely, sending tiny, treacherous sparks up her skin. Then, as if he hadn’t already invaded enough of her space, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"What do you say we go to the movies on Friday? Like, another official date." Yn blinked.

"Official fake date, you mean."

"Sure. Fake." His smirk was far too smug.

After class, she was stuffing her books into her locker when something warm brushed against the back of her head - a kiss. Her breath caught in her chest.

"Hey, Bunny." Changbin’s arms wrapped around her, casual and easy, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Yn prayed he didn’t feel how wildly her heart was pounding.

"So… Friday. The movies?"

"I haven’t said yes yet."

"But you want to." He grinned against her hair.

"Admit it. If you'd rather, we could go to the gym instead. Power couple aesthetics." That was a terrible idea. Considering the only thing she ever lifted was her overloaded school backpack, she doubted she could survive a Changbin-style workout. But before she could answer, Chaeryeong’s voice interrupted.

"Oh my god. A movie date? That would actually be cute… if you weren’t going with such a loser, Yn." Changbin gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest. Yn forced a bright smile, trying to keep up the illusion of their totally real romance, which was beginning to feel less and less fake by the second.

"Yup! Totally looking forward to it." Chaeryeong squealed, linking her arm through Yn’s and dragging her away.

"You guys are so cute, it’s disgusting." Behind her, Changbin only waved, a knowing grin on his lips.

~☆~

Yn stood outside the cinema, arms crossed against the cool night air, shifting impatiently on her feet. Of course Changbin was late. She huffed, glancing at her phone. Typical.

"Thought you were going to ditch me."

"No way." His voice came from behind her, smooth and easy, and when she turned, there he was grinning, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking unfairly good.

"I got all dressed up for this." Yn raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You’re wearing a denim jacket."

"At least it’s not all black." He shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging up in amusement. And, annoyingly, he was right. The outfit did suit him.

They found seats in the last row of the theater, and slowly, Yn’s nerves settled until Changbin’s hand found hers. Her fingers tensed.

"What…?" she whispered.

"Seungmin’s in the front." Changbin’s voice was quiet, warm with barely concealed laughter.

"He doesn’t believe us yet. Says I could never fool someone intelligent like you enough to become my partner." Yn glanced toward the front, spotting Seungmin, who was definitely side-eyeing them.

"Just because his girlfriend is top of her class and has some super amazing scholarship, he thinks she’s special." Changbin chuckled. Yn exhaled through her nose, turning back to the screen, trying and failing to focus on the movie. Because Changbin's thumb had started brushing against the back of her hand. A slow, absentminded stroke. And every time, her heart stuttered. That strange, unfamiliar pull tightened in her stomach, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted it to stop or if she secretly liked it.

At some point, he wordlessly passed her his popcorn to share it with her, despite the fact that she had once overheard his friends say that Changbin would rather die than give up his holy food. The thought made her chest feel strangely warm.

When the movie ended, they walked outside in silence, the cool air crisp against Yn’s skin. After a moment, Changbin mumbled,

"Hey... thanks for doing this with me. This whole thing..." His voice was quieter now. More sincere. Yn looked at him, and there it was that rare moment where all the cocky humor slipped away. Where there was no class clown, no over-the-top theatrics. Just him. And suddenly, before she could even think about it, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight, Bin." Then she turned and walked away, heart racing, thoughts tangled. And long after she had disappeared into the night, Changbin remained where he stood, fingers brushing the place where she had kissed him, smiling softly.

~☆~

Monday morning. The school was as loud and chaotic as ever, but for Yn, everything felt… different. Ever since Friday, the movie, the kiss, this whole fake thing had become fare more complicated. And when she saw Changbin in the hallway, laughing with his friends, that unwelcome truth only settled deeper in her chest. Her heart beat faster. Her palms grew clammy. Not good. Not good at all.

"Hey, Yn-ie!" She flinched as Changbin spotted her, striding over without hesitation. His smile was as bright as ever, but that glimmer in his eyes, that teasing, knowing spark had been haunting her since the moment she left him standing outside the theater.

"Good morning, Bunny."

"Changbin..." she warned, but he barely seemed to notice.

"I brought you something." She blinked as he pulled a small package from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

"What… is this?"

"Look yourself." Carefully, she unwrapped it. Inside were her favorite chocolat and a few other small things she liked. For a moment, she just stared. He had remembered. She didn’t know what unsettled her more the fact that he knew her preferences or the unfamiliar warmth unfurling in her chest.

"Why…?"

"Because I’m an amazing fake boyfriend." He winked. "And because you deserve it." Yn opened her mouth but found no words. The sincerity in his voice, the casual ease of his affection it was too much. So she did the only thing she could. She deflected.

"You’re really getting carried away with this whole boyfriend thing, don’t you think?" Her laugh was light, too light.

"Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t even really started yet." Before she could answer, Chaeryeong suddenly appeared beside them.

"Hey, you two! Have you heard about the party on Friday? You’re coming together, right?"

"Actually, I—"

"Of course we’re coming." Changbin cut in smoothly, grinning. Yn turned to him in horror. Traitor!

"Oh, come on." He draped an arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"A little dancing, a little fun… plus, I have to go anyway. Ji’s performing some of his songs, and I promised him I’d be there."

"I love Jisung’s rap!" Chaeryeong gushed, already bouncing away probably in search of Jisung himself to shower him with compliments. Yn exhaled sharply.

"You’re driving me insane, Bin." Changbin’s grin, if possible, only widened.

"And yet… you’re still here." His voice had softened just slightly, and there it was again that strange, unwelcome pull, curling in her stomach, making her thoughts go fuzzy. She really needed to see a doctor. Maybe she had some sort of digestive issue.

"Friday will be great, Bunny." And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the hallway, clutching a bar of chocolate and an absolute mess in her head.

~☆~

The music, the crowd, the pounding bass, Yn wasn’t sure why she had let Changbin drag her into this chaos. At least her dress was nice. He had insisted on buying it for her, and despite her protests, he had already removed the price tag before handing it to her. Which meant she couldn’t even feel guilty about accepting it. And, well… he had good taste. She wondered not for the first time how he would treat his real girlfriend if this was how he treated his fake one.

"There you are!" Changbin’s voice cut through the noise, his grin as bright as ever as he appeared from the crowd.

"Ready to maintain our perfect couple image?" Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. And then… it was just music. And him. He spun her around, laughed, pulled her closer. His hands firm on her waist, her arms looping around his neck. The warmth of him. The way he moved, effortless, like he was made for music. It felt real. Way too real.

"You're not so bad at dancing," he murmured, voice just barely brushing her ear.

"Neither are you," she admitted, throat dry. And then she looked at him. Really looked at him. And suddenly there was nothing fake about it at all. As his gaze dropped to her lips her breath hitched.

"Yn…" But before he could say anything else, a voice interrupted.

"Changbin! I thought you were still single? Wasn't this whole relationship just an act or something?" Yn turned, heart dropping. A girl stood there tall, gorgeous, with an air of casual confidence. Yuna, she realized. A friend of Chaeryeong’s. Something hot and sharp curled in Yn’s stomach at the way Yuna looked at Changbin, like she was weighing her options.

"Nah, this is very real, Yuna. Yn is my girlfriend." Changbin’s arm tightened around her. But Yuna didn’t let it go.

"That’s funny. Cause I definitely heard people talk about your relationship being fake." Silence. Yn’s pulse pounded. Not just from fear of being caught. But from something much worse. Fear of losing him. She glanced at Changbin. The usual grin was gone, and that scared her more than anything.

"Who said that?" His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Well, rumors spread fast." Yuna shrugged.

"And some say Yn’s just pretending to be your girlfriend because no one else wants her." Yn’s face burned. Shame. Anger. Hurt. She wanted to run. But Changbin didn’t let go.

"Do you know how I feel about rumors?" His voice was quiet making the situation feel even more dangerous. Even Yuna hesitated.

"Nothing. at. all." he emphasized every word and before anyone could react he leaned in and kissed yn. Soft and certain. One hand cradling her cheek, the other pulling her closer. And everything- everything felt too real. No pretense. No performance. Just them. When he pulled back, his gaze never left hers.

"Well...does that look fake?" he murmured. Yuna scoffed, disappearing into the crowd. But Yn barely noticed. Her heart was too loud. Her mind is an absolute measurement.

"Bin..." Her voice barely worked.

"I know." His voice was rough, forehead resting against hers. "I'm sorry." For what, she didn't know. But what she knew was that this wasn’t fake anymore. Not at all.

~☆~

Yn had barely slept since the party. Her first kiss, this utterly unexpected, dangerously real kiss haunted her thoughts without respite. She could no longer convince herself that it had all been pretend. Not after what she had felt in that moment. And now, she had no idea what he felt for her. But why would he want more from her?

Monday morning found her standing nervously before her locker, her mind a mess. She had barely seen Changbin since Friday night and, truthfully, she had been avoiding him on purpose.

"Hey." And there he was. She froze as his voice, quiet and unusually hesitant, reached her ears. Slowly, she turned, meeting his gaze. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the usual confident, easy grin she knew so well. It was tentative, uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

"Hi." A heavy silence settled between them, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. It had never been quiet between them before not with Changbin, who always walked beside her, talking endlessly about anything and everything. But now, he had nothing to say. Or maybe he simply didn’t know how to say it to her.

"About Friday..." Changbin ran a hand through his curls an unmistakable sign of his unease.

"I just… I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." A lie. And she knew he could see right through it.

"Yn..." His voice softened, and she knew what was coming. He was going to talk about the kiss. And she couldn't at least not yet.

"We shouldn't overthink this, right?" She tried to sound casual, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. "I mean... it was just part of the act. So they’d believe it." For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to argue, as if she had just knocked the wind out of him. But then, slowly, he nodded.

"Right. Just an act." His smile vanished, and a sharp pain bloomed in Yn’s chest one she didn’t quite understand. Maybe she should have her heart checked when she next visited the doctor. Because every time she saw him in the hallway, laughing with his friends, that same dull ache returned.

She knew then, with frightening clarity, that she didn’t just want this fake relationship. But at the same time, she knew false hope would only wound her more deeply in the end. After all, why would Changbin feel anything beyond what their arrangement required? That was all they were a convenient partnership.

Yn sat at the lunch table with Chaeryeong and a few of their mutual friends, trying to stay engaged in the conversation. But her gaze kept straying to Changbin. He was sitting with his friends, laughing, throwing playful jabs at them just like always. And yet, why did she wish she were sitting beside him? Laughing with him? Wrapped in the warmth of his strong arm?

"So… how are things with Changbin?" Ryujin asked suddenly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You two are basically the school’s dream couple now," Lia added with a grin.

"It’s… fine," Yn replied.

"Girl! Give us the tea!" Ryujin complained but Chaeryeong rescued her by getting sentimental.

"God, Yn, you’ve changed so much. I mean, you smile so much more now. You seem… happier." Yn swallowed. She knew she needed answers. Clarity. And there was only one way to get it.

~☆~

Yn’s heart pounded as she walked toward Changbin. The cafeteria was loud with laughter and conversation, but it all blurred into background noise. She only saw him. Changbin was in his usual spot, joking with Jisung, Chan and his other friends, his laughter infectious.

But as if sensing her, he looked up. His smile faltered for just a second before he covered it up with that easygoing grin.

"Hey, Bunny." The nickname sent a familiar warmth through her, but she ignored it. She needed answers.

"Can we talk?" His friends exchanged knowing looks, but he just nodded, pushing back his chair.

"Yeah. Let’s go." They ended up outside, where it was quieter. The late autumn air bit at her skin, but it wasn’t the cold making her shiver. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, at the same time

"Changbin-"

"Yn-" They both let out short, nervous laughs. But the tension was thick between them. Yn exhaled. Just say it.

"Look, I just… I need to know where we stand." Changbin shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his jaw clenching.

"You tell me," he said.

"Because Friday night? That didn’t feel fake to me." Yn’s breath hitched.

"But that’s what this is, right?" she whispered. "That’s all it was supposed to be." He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well. Plans change." His eyes met hers, something raw and vulnerable there. "At least, they did for me." Yn’s heart stopped.

"What… what are you saying?"

"I’m saying that maybe I don’t want to pretend anymore." The world seemed to tilt. Changbin stepped closer, voice softer now. "You asked why I do all this, why I remember your favorite chocolate, why I buy you dresses, why I call you Bunny like it’s second nature." He hesitated. "It’s because somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending." Yn felt like she couldn’t breathe.

"Bin…" He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"But if this is just a deal to you, if that kiss meant nothing, then… tell me now. Because I don’t think I can go back to just being fake with you." Silence stretched between them. Her mind was screaming at her to be honest. To say what she felt. But fear was a heavy thing. She looked at him the boy who had somehow become everything to her. And then she did the only thing she could to express her feelings. She kissed him.

But neither of them dared to exhale just yet. Because even now, with their feelings laid bare, they weren’t ready to put a name to whatever this was.

~☆~

Yn stood before the door of the small studio that Changbin shared with Jisung and Chan. It was their sanctuary, the place where they created music together not just as a hobby, but as their passion. A dream they hoped would one day turn into a career. She knew how much this space meant to them. And she hoped, more than anything, that she would find Changbin here. Preferably alone.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. And there he was. Seated at his computer, lost in a melody so gentle it seemed to weave through the air itself.

"Can I come in?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Changbin looked up, surprised. But then, with a small shrug, he said,

"Yeah. Make yourself at home." She settled onto the small sofa in the back of the room, drawing her knees to her chest. For a while, silence stretched between them, broken only by the music. Carefully as though even the slightest movement might shatter the fragile peace she closed her eyes and let the soft notes seep into her heart.

Until he pressed the stop button. The sudden quiet felt heavier than the music had. Changbin spun around in his chair, facing her.

"Yn… I know we said this was just pretend. Or that we don’t whant to label our relationship but..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore." Her heartbeat quickened.

"Bin..."

"I like you. And not just as part of this deal." His voice was quiet, yet each word struck her with the force of a storm. "to me, it feels real yn and i don’twanttolose you." Yn didn’t know what to say. But she knew the only right thing to do was to speak from her heart.

"It feels real to me too." His smile was careful, filled with fragile hope. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of their words, of their shared confession, hung in the air between them like something fragile and precious. Then, slowly, Changbin stood up. He crossed the small space between them, hesitating only for a breath before lowering himself onto the couch beside her.

"Then let’s stop pretending," he murmured. Yn’s heart pounded.

"What do you mean?" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"I mean… I don’t want this to be just an act anymore. I don’t want to go back to whatever we were before. I want this, us to be real. A real girlfriend. A real boyfriend." She searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but there was none. Only sincerity. Only him.

"Are you sure?" she whispered. Changbin let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything." A smile tugged at her lips. And then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. His grip tightened, warm and steady.

"So… does this mean you’re my real real boyfriend now?" she teased, her voice light, but her heart full. A smirk played at the corner of his lips, the confidence she knew so well flickering back into place.

"I mean, yeah unless you want to keep calling me your ‘fake’ boyfriend." She laughed, shaking her head.

"No. No more fake. Let’sbe honest from now on."

"Good." And then, with no more hesitation, Changbin cupped her cheek and kissed her. This time, it wasn’t for show. This time, it was real and she felt it.

#changbin skz #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin imagines #changbin stray kids #seo changbin #stray kids #stray kids imagine #kpop #skz #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz imagines #south korea #boyfriend

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jeonginsleftcheek · 1 month ago

Text

Dolly VI

~ part 6 of the Dolly series

pairing: changbin x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, sci-fi

synopsis: Being the CEO of a big company meant you were always buried with work, staying late at the office, never having time to yourself. Your employees have a habit of giving you funny gifts to make you get out and live your life a little, as they say. Even though you expect crazy gifts from them, you never expected to get something that would change your life forever.

wc: 8.0k

warnings: unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m)

~ divider by @bunnysrph

Another sigh passed your lips as you rubbed your temples, the screen in front of you blurring for a moment and making you close your eyes tightly. You leaned back in your chair to stretch, you've been sitting in the same position for hours.

"Wow." you muttered, realizing your legs were actually numb. It was time to get up, at least for a moment, you thought and stood up. You made your way to the big glass windows behind your chair and stared at the view of the city.

Here, on the top of it all stands your dream. You've worked hard to get to where you are, dedicating your entire life only to your career. You knew nothing else but work, yet sometimes it felt as if everything was about to crumble underneath your feet.

A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Come in." you said after clearing your throat.

"Miss, I brought you the papers you asked for." it was your assistant, Maxine. The poor girl had to stay behind with you every time and you made sure to pay her those extra hours well, feeling bad that you had to make her stay here on a Friday night.

You turned and smiled slightly at her, nodding towards your desk.

"You can leave them there. Thank you, Maxine." you said and she nodded, putting the big stack of papers on top of the other, smaller stack you were almost done with.

"You can go home, Maxine. There's no point in you being here plus it's Friday, you must have somewhere better to be than at work." you added and her eyes widened slightly.

"Are you sure miss?" she asked and you nodded.

"Of course, have a good weekend!" you said with a smile.

"Thanks, you too boss!" she smiled back and exited the office, leaving you alone with your thoughts and papers.

You glanced at the table, calculating how long you'll be here but then you noticed a light pink envelope sticking between the papers. With furrowed brows you came closer to the table, pulling the envelope out.

'From your faithful employees, consider this an early birthday gift to the best boss ever!'

You chuckled when you read the writing on it, your fingertips running over the various signatures of your employees. What did they have up their sleeve now?

You opened up the envelope and pulled out the little card inside, reading it quietly.

Hello,

my name is Changbin and I am your strong dolly.

I love going on gym dates and after that eating some good food! I enjoy watching movies so I hope you'll share your favorites with me.

Please be tender with me, even though I seem tough, I need someone to lean on too so don't forget to give me a hug.

Hope you will come to love me as much as I love you.

"What?" you chuckled then saw someone added something on the card.

'We got him delivered to your house, enjoy!'

No way. Did your employees buy you a sex doll?

Your face warmed up instantly. Those bastards, you chuckled to yourself, the nickname more of an endearment than an insult.

Maybe the papers could wait until tomorrow.

It was raining hard when you finally parked in front of your building, rushing inside with your bag shielding your head. You almost tripped over your legs, your heels making it hard to run.

The building was completely quiet as you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button 12. You looked down at your watch, it was almost 2am. You shook your head, impatient to see what the gift looked like.

There was a huge box in front of your apartment door and you made your way there quickly.

After unlocking your door, you dragged the box inside, almost falling over a few times. After quickly closing the door and throwing your heels off of your feet, you decided to open the box immediately, no more waiting.

"Oh. Look at that." your heart skipped a beat.

This Changbin doll definitely looked like a man you'd turn your head after if you saw him in the street. At least your employees seemed to know your taste.

At the same time, you were curious, you've never seen a doll that is so humanlike. Gulping, you kneeled down next to the box and reached out to touch his face.

"Tell me your skincare routine." you chuckled, playing with his hair a little.

You noticed a piece of paper stuck between his fingers so you grabbed it gently and looked at it.

My honey!

I chose a comfy outfit for us to enjoy a movie together!

Hope you'll love our first night together as much as I will!

Honey. You blushed profusely at the nickname.

Have I been single for so long that this got me going?, you asked yourself, feeling embarrassed.

Yet, you couldn't even remember the last time someone flirted with you. And if they did, it probably went over your head because you were only thinking about work 24/7. Even now, you had brought the papers home so you can finish everything during the weekend.

Your stomach growled and you stood up, holding the manual for the dolly as you heated up some dinner. You needed to eat healthier food, you knew that. But who has time for cooking when you're working 24/7?

You read the manual carefully, flipping the pages as you ate your dinner; leftovers from yesterday. Not ideal, but you had no other options at this moment. Your face started burning suddenly when you got to the section about what the doll was made for and what it can do.

"Oh my god." you quickly closed the manual with a little giggle. You glanced at the box, deciding to take a shower and get rid of your suit first.

When you were finally refreshed, feeling like a new person, you made your way back to your new doll.

"How do I get you out?" you pursed your lips. Yes, you did some yoga but you had no idea if you could lift up an entire human sized doll.

You pushed the box to your room, putting it next to your bed. With all the strength you could gather you managed to pull Changbin out of the box and place him on top of your covers with your body giving out and plopping down on top of him.

"Oh." you were surprised by the warmth of his body. You didn't really follow the latest technology developments, only using what you needed for work and daily life, but this must be some new and advanced technology you've never come across.

You crawled under the covers, putting them over Changbin too as you grabbed your phone and checked out the site with the dolls. Their primary function was to be used for pleasure but you felt like Changbin could be more than that. Maybe a cuddle buddy? You chuckled and pressed your cheek against his chest as you laid half of your body on top of him. You could feel the muscles underneath the clothes he was dressed in and it made your heart skip a beat.

You continued scrolling through the site, seeing the other doll models, some of them sold out. They were all charming in their own way, but you were sure you'd choose Changbin if you were buying one by yourself.

"Wow, only one of each?"

You scrolled all the way to the end and in the left-hand corner you saw very small letters saying: property of BIMT.

"BIMT?" it sounded so familiar, and you couldn't remember where you had heard that before.

You shrugged, too tired to think or look at your phone anymore so you put it aside and hugged your Changbin dolly, happy to have a warm body to hold during a usually lonely night.

You had never slept this well in your life, so well that you didn't even hear your alarm clock trying to wake you up.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed once your eyes opened and you noticed it was past 10am.

Usually, during the weekend you'd still wake up earlier, around 7am so you could go for a run and do your stretching or yoga session. Plus, the weekend was the only time you could clean up your apartment thoroughly.

What surprised you even more, was that you were turned on for some reason. You must've had some interesting dreams to wake up like this.

Embarrassment seeped into you as you looked at Changbin's face. You scanned around your room as if someone was watching you, which of course no one was. But you felt so awkward using the doll.

You propped yourself on your elbow and hovered over Changbin's face.

"Hello. Good morning." you waved in front of his face but of course he didn't even blink.

"How do I do this?" you chewed on your lip. You observed him for another moment before placing your palm on his chest and tentatively sliding it down. Your hand explored slowly and gently, working yourself up as you touched his defined muscles.

"Huge..." you gasped a little when you gripped at his bicep. Your body was heating up and so was his, the doll was getting excited. You read it in the manual but seeing it happen was something else. Licking your lips, your hand slid down more as you threw your leg over him, your knee brushing against his bulge.

"Oh." your eyes widened and you stopped for a moment to catch your breath, before sliding your hand down to touch him. Your doll was definitely big.

Something inside you snapped and you forgot about being embarrassed quickly as you started moving against his thigh. You whined, finding a good position to where you could straddle his thigh and continued your ministrations. The dolly seemed somehow... happy. Your cheeks warmed up suddenly, it felt like his attention was on you, like his eyes were actually looking at you. Your knee kept brushing against his erection, making him twitch in his pants.

"It's like you're alive." you whispered, mesmerized.

You bit on your lip and decided to rid him of his pants and underwear.

"Oh my." you slapped your hand against your mouth. "Changbin." you giggled after saying his name, it felt good to feel it rolling off of your tongue.

Taken by the moment, you got rid off your clothes and his shirt too, admiring his beautiful body. You wanted to take your time with him and kiss him everywhere, explore him with your hands but that would have to wait for another time when you're not this desperate to get off.

You hovered over him before sitting down, your wet pussy pressed against his hard cock.

"Ah." a little moan escaped your lips as you started grinding on him with slow and languid movements, enjoying the way Changbin's cock kept twitching against you like he wanted in.

Your embarrassment completely disappeared, turning into pure pleasure as your clit kept dragging against him, your pussy clenching to be filled up. You lifted your hips just a little to grab his cock and slowly push it in, even though he was bigger, you took him well like he was made just for you.

You put in the work as you bounced on top of him, your hands roaming on his belly and chest, across his perky nipples as you grabbed at him. He was heating up even more, matching the heat of your body and the hot atmosphere created inside your room. You looked at Changbin's face and gasped, it seemed as if he was smirking ever so slightly. Your pussy clenched at the thought of him being alive and touching you too so you sped up, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

"Binnie." you whimpered and he twitched hard. It was right there in the manual, just keep saying his name.

"Binnie." you said again, your movements becoming sloppier as you got more tired and closer to your high. "Changbin!" you groaned loudly once you exploded, riding your high on top of him as you gyrated your hips. Tears gathered in your eyes from the overstimulation you brought to yourself as you kept repeating his name until he exploded inside you, filling you up with ropes of warm cum.

"Fuck." you cursed, lifting off of him, feeling all sticky and embarrassed again.

"I must be crazy." you shook your head and ran to your bathroom to get cleaned up. Of course, you cleaned your dolly too and then looked at his face more closely, biting on your lip and trying to see if there were any changes in his expression.

"You need a hug, right?" you said before putting your arms around Changbin. It felt so comforting to be wrapped around him.

Your weekend was mostly uneventful as always, but this time you had Changbin watching over you as you cleaned around your apartment. You managed to take him everywhere by putting him on your office chair with wheels.

"You could help, you know?" you grunted before continuing to vacuum the living room.

Changbin's eyes followed you while you cleaned and while you did your yoga. He watched as you sat hunched over your computer in your home office and worked, typing quickly and going over all the papers you brought home. He watched you struggling with the groceries and cursing quietly.

He wished he could help.

Monday came around too quickly and you rolled out of bed reluctantly, not wanting to separate from Changbin's warm body.

Spring was around the corner, but it was still cold in the mornings and you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day. But, you had a really important meeting today and you couldn't afford to be late. You were in a frenzy, getting dressed quickly as you had almost overslept through all your alarms.

"You're making it hard for me to leave my bed." you smirked at Changbin, shaking your head slightly as you grabbed your bag.

"I'll see you later, cutie." you kissed his lips and practically skipped all the way to your car.

Was it pathetic that a doll made you feel this happy?, you thought. Maybe it did, but who cares, you weren't harming anyone plus it was a gift and you should be thankful for it.

As soon as you arrived to your office, one of your employees, Tina, smirked at you.

"Good morning, boss! Did you like our gift?" she asked and you blushed profusely immediately.

"I really did. Thank you." you said and she chuckled.

"If we land this deal, you promised to take some time off. I hope you still mean that." she said, walking with you. Everyone knew you barely took time off, they'd have to pry you off of your desk and force you to finally rest.

"When we land this deal. Not if." you smirked at her, saying hello to a few more other employees as you passed them by.

"Good morning!" Maxine greeted you cheerfully. "All the reports for the meeting are ready on your desk and I prepared the presentation room for you."

"Oh, always so fast." you chuckled.

"Just keeping up with you, boss." she winked, following you into the office. You left all your stuff there and quickly looked through the reports, having already studied them, this was going to be a piece of cake for you.

Where you were shy in your personal life, at work you were the complete opposite, your ambition and drive brought you to high places and you had no problem with biting hard and showing off your skills and knowledge.

There were at least twelve people in the room and you took a deep breath in as you stood in front of them. Maxine nodded at you with a thumbs up.

The presentation went smoothly and the partners were satisfied with your results and conclusions, the deal has been made.

"Congratulations, boss! Now you can take your vacation!" Maxine said and you laughed.

"Well, maybe I should stay a little bit more to-"

"No, no. You need some wildness in your life away from all the seriousness, suits and papers, hm?"

"Maxine is right. If anyone deserves this vacay, it's you." Tina agreed and you smiled.

"I hope you two know that I will be checking in all the time." you waved your finger and both of them laughed.

"Of course." Tina nodded and you took her to the office since she'd be taking your place while you're away. The rest of the day passed by fairly quickly, even with you staying longer as always. A zap of electricity ran through your body when you remembered someone was home, waiting for you and your undivided attention.

Changbin.

"Maxine, tell Tina I got all the reports ready for our new partners and if she needs anything she can call me any time. Same goes for you." you rushed out and she looked at you with her brows lifted.

"Of course. Have a good time on your vacay!" she said, chuckling because this was the first time you were leaving before her.

It was raining again when you ran into your building, forgetting to bring an umbrella so you used your bag as a shield from the water once more. The first thing you did after shucking your shoes off and throwing your bag aside was run to Changbin.

He was in the same position you left him, leaned on your headboard in your bed, tucked in with a blanket.

"Hey there." you smiled and grabbed his face, kissing his lips. You had missed him all day.

"We are going on a vacation." you nodded to him with a smile. You had to admit, you felt kinda excited to finally be away from work and your repetitive routine. You just wished Changbin would come to life and enjoy the break from every day stress with you.

The next day, everything was prepared, the bag you packed was in the trunk, the tank was filled up and most importantly Changbin was in the passenger seat, strapped in and ready. You were going to drive over to your old house, where your parents used to take you for vacation when you were a kid. It was a bit out of town, a little house close to the lake. It used to be different before, there were more things to do there but you heard that some rich guy bought off most of the people who lived there so he could own the land.

Your little house was away from that area, perfectly in the middle of nowhere. Just what you needed to get your mind off of work. You got into the car and put on your favorite playlist before you started driving.

The tall city buildings soon turned into seemingly never-ending fields. You felt better instantly upon seeing the nature all around you. The sun was beating down on your car and you decided to open up the windows and let the air in as you drove and sang. Your eyes kept flitting towards Changbin, his pretty face and the way the wind kept playing with his hair. He looked so soft and sweet in those moments, making your good mood become even better.

Maybe someone would call you crazy for taking your sex doll to a vacation with you but he was more than that. You had a feeling he would be.

You drove for hours, it was almost dark when you finally parked in front of the old house. It was a little worn out since no one came out here anymore, especially after your father died due to illness and your mother had moved back to her hometown, taking care of your grandma. You visited them whenever you could but you were always swamped with work, you barely had time for yourself.

You put your bag inside first but getting Changbin in was a challenge that you somehow managed to conquer with all the strength you gathered.

"Oh my god." you huffed when you finally placed him on the sofa. "Ugh." you scrunched up your nose, realizing you have to do some cleaning up before anything else.

You got to work, cleaning up the place as you listened to some music and danced around, making the annoying chore more fun. Changbin watched you from the couch, a shadow passing over his eyes before they sparkled just for a moment. Of course, you didn't see it being too into your performance.

After cleaning up and filling up the fridge with some groceries you brought in a portable one, you decided to take a shower and change.

"Binnie, are you hungry?" you asked your sweet dolly and you could swear his eyes moved for a moment.

You tilted your head and stared him for a while, finally deciding you just imagined it.

"I guess you are." you chuckled and moved to the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

It was weird spending the afternoon cooking and sipping on wine, listening to music without a care in the world, knowing you don't have to go into work tomorrow. Or bring work to your house. Which reminded you to call Tina.

"You barely even left and you're worried already?" she chuckled.

"Just making sure everything is okay."

"Of course! I got everything under control." she assured you but you still wanted a recap, the perfectionist inside you craving to know that everything was indeed going well.

"Are you having fun though?" she asked after the report and you looked around the sparkly clean house, your eyes then landing on Changbin.

"Definitely." you said.

"Well, take care boss. We need you refreshed once you come back!"

"Of course. Have a good day, Tina."

"You too!"

You hung up and sat down to eat, looking up at Changbin a few times. After your meal you made your way to the couch, you couldn't wait to cuddle up to him.

"Let's see if there's any signal here." you muttered, turning the tv on. Luckily, the signal was good, even better than it used to be before, surprising you a little. You shrugged it off and put your legs in Changbin's lap, your head on his chest. Your own personal teddy bear.

The heat of his body and the relaxed state you were in slowly brought warmness in your navel, spreading throughout you and dripping on your panties. You bit on your lip and nuzzled into his neck, kissing his skin. Your hands started roaming his chest, the muscles you admired and liked so much. Your lips traveled on his skin and you stripped his shirt so you could continue leaving gentle kisses all over him. You unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down and then sliding them off of him with his underwear.

The sight of Changbin's cock all hard and leaking for you made you salivate, your heart beating hard against your chest. You wanted to taste him, feel the weight of him on your tongue so you kneeled down between his legs, sticking your tongue out and licking a stripe along his length.

"Oh." you were deliciously shocked when you realized he tasted sweet. It spurred you on to continue and you wrapped your lips around him, sucking on his tip and tasting more of his pre-cum. You struggled taking all of him in as you slid down, wrapping your hand around the base.

You knew Changbin probably wouldn't cum this way, since your dolly loved hearing his name moaned out before climaxing so you were doing this more for your own fun and enjoyment, revelling in the way he twitched inside your hot mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down for a while, making yourself gag a few times when you pushed in too far, your panties getting progressively more soaked. You released him with a pop and leaned back to look at him.

"Need you, Binnie." you whimpered before stripping and sitting on his lap. You wished he would reciprocate, you yearned to be touched by him. Closing your eyes, you adjusted and grabbed his length, slowly pushing it in and sitting down on him until he bottomed out inside you.

You wrapped your arms around Changbin so you could be as close to him as you can before you started moving on him slowly, feeling every inch of him filling you up and stretching your pussy perfectly.

"Binnie." you moaned out as you fucked on him slowly, feeling him twitch inside you immediately.

"Whoops." you giggled and sped up, chasing your high that has been building up ever since the moment you tasted him. The tip of Changbin's cock kept brushing against your spot every time you smacked your hips down, making you whimper and clench around him.

"Changbin!" with a loud whimper of his name you came all around him, making him finish inside you as you rode your high and held onto him, your sensitive nipples brushing against him deliciously.

"I'll be right back." you said as you stood up.

You cleaned yourself and your doll before getting dressed. You only had him for a few days but you already felt like you couldn't live without him. He was giving you some sort of comfort that you haven't felt in a long time.

"I wish you could go on a walk with me now." you sighed after calming down a little and drinking some water. It was dark out and you weren't really comfortable with walking around the lake and in the forest completely alone so you decided it would be smarter to do that in the morning.

That night you cuddled up with Changbin again, feeling happy that you brought him with you.

Early in the morning, you already had your coffee and quick breakfast before checking in on Tina and Maxine. You couldn't help it even though you knew that all your employees were more than capable, it was you who hired them after all.

"I'll be back soon, Binnie." you kissed your dolly, tucking him in with a blanket and leaving the tv on for him.

You walked the familiar path from your house to the lake, knowing it like the back of your hand. It almost stayed the same as it was, the only difference is that it seemed more quiet, abandoned. A few of the nearby houses were almost completely fallen apart, the wood ruined by the rain and the wind. It made you a little sad to see a place once so lively devoid of everything.

That's when you noticed something peculiar, right as you started on your way towards the forest. It was all too quiet. It seemed like there was no insect, bird or any kind of animal nearby. Usually, there were ducks in the lake, you remembered feeding them with your parents and you also remember running away screaming from all sorts of insects when you were a kid.

"Hm." you mused out loud as you continued walking. It felt a little eerie, the hairs on the back of your neck standing.

Then you heard it, a humming sound. Your brows furrowed as you followed the sound cautiously.

You didn't expect to run into a huge fence built around a building you were sure wasn't there before, because there used to be multiple houses and a children's park there. You squinted your eyes, trying to see if there was someone there but all you saw were windows with bars on them and darkness on the inside.

Then you noticed a familiar logo on the side of the building.

"Where have I seen that?" you wondered out loud.

The humming stopped suddenly, making your eyes ring as you swallowed. Fear clawed up from your stomach to your throat and you turned on your heel, something inside you telling you to run.

You didn't stop running until you got to the house, bursting in loudly, closing and locking the door quickly. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest and your eyes landed on Changbin instantly.

Making your way to him fast, you crumbled into his arms. You tried to even out your breath and calm down, all the while asking yourself who bought all the land, why was there a fence, what was the humming sound, why was that logo familiar to you?

You decided to take a relaxing bath and make some yummy lunch to forget about the weirdness of your morning.

"Oh, Binnie I am so glad you're here. Without you I'd feel so lonely." you told your dolly while you cooked. His eyes moved until they were looking directly at you, his fingers twitching against the couch, but you didn't notice, concentrated on making the food.

You spent the rest of the day inside the house and cuddled up to Changbin again that night.

You slept well until your dreams were invaded by the humming sound from earlier and it seemed as if it was louder, closer, vibrating against your body. You were confused, still on the verge of sleep, eyes still closed as your body shook.

"W-what?" you croaked out, it was as if something was shaking you. Your eyes snapped open and you realized it was Changbin, he was... vibrating?

You reached for the lamp quickly, panic rushing through your veins when suddenly he took a desperate breath in, his head turning towards you.

You shrieked, backing away and falling off the bed.

"W-what the fuck?!" you backed away until you hit the wall.

"W-water. P-please." his voice sounded raspy and you gasped, standing up and staring at him. Was this supposed to happen? There was nothing about the dolls talking and needing water in the manual.

"Please." Changbin looked at you desperately and you nodded, running downstairs before coming back up with a water bottle.

"I'm sorry." he apologized as soon as he chugged the bottle down.

"F-for what?" you asked, standing on a distance.

"Scaring you. This humming noise. It makes me tickle on the inside. It itches, it woke me up." he explained.

"You can hear that?" you asked, coming a little closer to him.

"No, I can feel it." he said. "Don't be scared of me."

"I'm- I'm not, just confused." you let out a chuckle at the absurd situation. "The manual never said anything about you coming to life."

"The manual." Changbin scoffed.

"What?" you asked and he shook his head.

"I wish I could remember who made me and who wrote the manual." he answered as you sat on the bed.

"Do you remember anything?" you asked.

"My friends? They were with me before. I don't know where they are now, all I know is I miss them." he sighed.

"Are these your friends?" you asked as you pulled up the dolly site on your phone.

"Yes! That's them." Changbin leaned in to look at the pictures. "This one." he pointed to a doll named 'Chan'. "He was the first. He took care of us after something happened. I- I can't remember what happened, but I know it was painful."

"Ugh, the humming again!" Changbin jolted, hugging himself.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We can leave right away if it's bothering you this much, don't worry." you placed your hand on his arm, trying to calm him down.

"Really?" he looked at you with sweet pitiful eyes, making your heart melt.

"Of course." you nodded and stood up, grabbing your bag and packing up immediately.

"You took all of this with a very calm attitude." Changbin scratched his head.

"I'm used to crisis, it happens at work." you said, packing up quickly. "I wouldn't be where I am if I let my emotions interfere in situations like this."

"That's what I admire, you're so dedicated to your work." Changbin said, slowly standing up, his legs wobbling a little. You paused your movements and looked up at him.

"You were aware of everything happening since you came to me?" you asked and he nodded sheepishly.

"Oh." you gulped, your face warming up. Now, that was a situation that threw you off just a little.

"I, um, I'm hungry." Changbin said and you chuckled.

"There's food downstairs, you can heat it up and eat all of it while I get everything ready for us to leave."

"Thank you." he smiled.

"No need." you answered, still feeling a little embarrassed about the fact that he was aware of everything you did to him during the last few days.

You managed to grab all your things and pack them up, turning off everything right as Changbin finished eating.

"Let's go." you said and he stopped you before you opened the door.

"Are you sure it's safe to go out? It's the middle of the night." he noted.

"I think we'd be safer in the car than staying in here?" you said and he sighed.

"Okay then, let's leave."

As soon as you walked out, you could hear the humming noise more clearly as if it had gotten louder during the night.

"I can't take it." Changbin started scratching at his body again.

"Get in the car quickly."

Luckily, you had enough gas to last to the first gas station so you buckled up and hit the pedal, getting the hell away from that creepy place.

Changbin felt better the more distance you put between the car and the lake.

A few days later, since you were still on your vacation, you were enjoying getting to know Changbin.

It was as if he was human and lived an entire life, even though he couldn't remember it at all. He could only put together bits and pieces, talking mostly about his friends and some disaster that happened, an awful feeling filling him up as he tried to remember more of it. All he could think of was Chan who tried to protect him and the other dolls. They were all alive then.

"Do you think they came to life too?" you asked that afternoon as the two of you cuddled, some movie playing in the background but you weren't paying attention to it.

"I would hope so. I wish we could find them." he sighed.

"Maybe we can. I could pull some connections."

"Really? You'd do that?" he smiled instantly, sitting up excitedly.

"Of course. Look, you probably heard me..." you grimaced but continued. "When I said I'm happy to have you, I was really lonely before and I was actually hoping you'd come to life."

"Does that mean I'm your boyfriend now?" Changbin giggled and you melted on the spot.

"Yes." you nodded and he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, making you squeal and chuckle.

You were sure he was made just for you.

Making your way from a refreshing shower, you didn't expect to be pinned to the wall by Changbin as soon as you walked into your room.

"B-Binnie!" you eyes widened, a zap of electricity running through your body instantly, making you feel aroused in the matter of milliseconds.

"I've wanted to do this from the moment I saw you." he said lowly, making you gulp as you stared into his darkened eyes. He was silently asking for your permission and you nodded ever so slightly, your heartbeart speeding up.

Changbin's lips quirked up in that cute smirk you adored on him, his hands sliding down your arms to the towel wrapped around your body. He undid the knot and let it fall to the floor, his eyes raking all over your exposed body.

You felt like your breath got caught in your throat when Changbin leaned in and pressed his lips on yours. Time stopped for a moment before he brought you back to earth with his hands on your chest, squeezing your breasts as he started moving his lips against yours. You parted your lips to let him in, he was sweet and hot at the same time, making your body yearn for his so you arched into him.

Smirking against your lips, Changbin let his hands travel lower, until they touched your thighs. You shivered as he kept kissing you, his fingertips ghosting on your inner thigh. Your moans were muffled against his lips and he kissed you harder before leaning back, letting his hand rest between your thighs as he touched your pussy.

"So wet for me." he smirked.

"B-Binnie, please." you whimpered.

"Please what, honey?" he kept smirking as you whined.

"I need to feel you." you whispered, your cheeks heating up.

"I need to feel you too." he couldn't really tease you for too long, the more he slid his fingers against your pussy, bringing the wetness up to your clit, the more it made him twitch in his pants.

You were overpowered by want and your hands flew to his shirt. It didn't take long for him to be as naked as you were. He was already hard and dripping, eager to bring you pleasure.

Changbin's arms gripped at the back of your thighs. "Jump." he smirked and you gasped, jumping up while he helped you, wrapping your legs around him. The tip of his cock rubbed against you, making you clench.

"H-here?" you whispered and he smiled.

"Why not?" Changbin whispered back and you held onto him tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck, fingertips grazing at his upper back.

"Okay." you whined as he pressed into you, his tip slipping between your folds.

"Mm, so good." he groaned, pushing in and you welcomed him, shaping around him perfectly as he bottomed out.

"Binnie." you moaned out, your nails digging into his skin.

"D-don't say my name yet." he gripped at your hips and you bit on your lip, trying to hold in your desperation. Changbin slowly started to move, his cock spreading your pussy apart deliciously.

"A-ah!" you whimpered as his tip brushed against your spot with each languid thrust. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss as you held onto him, trying to bring your hips closer to him.

"M-more." you whined.

"More?" he breathed out, his voice shaky. He was holding back.

"Please Binnie, fuck me harder, please!" you begged desperately, your pussy clenching around him and making him inhale sharply.

"As you wish, honey." he smirked a little before all hell broke loose when his hips started snapping into yours with vigor. He knocked the breath out of your lungs as you scratched at his skin, your entire body shaking from the force he fucked you with.

You couldn't help it, you were moaning so loudly, not even caring if your neighbors could hear you as Changbin kept fucking into you hard, the tip of his cock brushing against your spot every time he pushed in deep. You held onto him for dear life, you couldn't even feel your legs in that moment.

His little desperate moans filled up your ears, making you even more wet than before, adding to the high that was building up inside you.

"Are you gonna cum, honey?" he gripped your ass hard as he kept fucking you.

"Y-yes, gonna cum for you, Binnie!" you felt him twitch inside you and that was all you needed before you exploded, squirting on him and making him whine. His name kept spilling from your lips and his hips stuttered as he came, exploding inside you and filling you up.

"Wow." he breathed as he finally released you and you shook, holding onto him. Changbin lifted you up in his strong arms and placed your shivering body on the bed.

"I'll be right back, honey." he said and you nodded, still speechless.

Changbin came back to clean you up, bringing you a bottle of water.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked as you were silent.

"No, no, you were perfect Binnie." you smiled, reaching out to touch his face. "So good, that I'm just ready to sleep now." you added and he chuckled, puffing his chest out with pride.

You rolled your eyes playfully as your head hit the pillow and Changbin tucked you in much like you did to him, before he laid down next to you.

"Hey, y/n?" he whispered after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, Binnie?"

"I love you." he said and your heart skipped a beat. It was unbelieveable how quickly you came to love him too.

"I love you." you whispered back, kissing him before the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Your days with Changbin were passing by like a breeze, and pretty soon you were already back to work. All your employees noted that you're glowing and that you've never looked happier, thinking it was the break that did that when in fact it was love.

Changbin had also managed to pull you out of the house more, the two of you going to the gym and enjoying active dates and you couldn't remember the last time you had so much fun with someone, let alone a boyfriend. It's like he knew exactly what you needed, sometimes even before you knew it.

He loved watching you cook, a lovesick look in his eyes as he propped his face up on his palm and just observed you.

"It'd be nice if you helped." you smirked, breaking him out of his trance.

"Yes, in a moment." he smiled then, grabbing your hand and stopping whatever you were doing as he gently pulled it towards him, pressing his lips on the top of your hand. You chuckled, goosebumps littering your skin as he stood up. Changbin stood behind you, enveloping his arms around you, his hands covering yours.

"This is not helping." you giggled when his breath tickled your neck.

"No?" he smirked, pressing himself into you.

You knew you weren't going to cook that dinner any time soon.

You felt lucky to have him, but there was one problem. You had tried getting some information through your workplace, about all the other dolls but whoever had sent them to the buyers, erased every trace of where the dolls have been sent. You couldn't track any of them and Changbin couldn't remember anything, no matter how hard he tried.

You kept thinking about the lake house, the humming noise and the weird building, the eerie quietness of the entire forest. It made the hair on the back of you neck stand, shivers running down your spine.

You tried researching it on the internet but came up with nothing.

Then one day, there was a call.

"Hello?" you answered with an unsure voice, the unknown number throwing you off. Especially because the call was on your private phone and not many people had that number. If it was business or anything of that sort they'd call you on your work cell.

Changbin looked up from the clothes he was folding and you shrugged.

"Is this miss L/n?" a monotone male voice asked.

"Yes, this is she." you answered.

"I understand you have Changbin dolly."

"Ugh. Yes." you looked at Changbin with a frown, and he came closer to listen.

"Well, we're sorry to inform you but the dolls have all malfunctioned and will need to be taken back. The money will be returned." you wondered how they knew the doll was gifted to you and how they had your number.

"What do you mean by 'malfunctioned'?" you asked suspiciously as Changbin eyed you nervously.

"We cannot discuss such matters unless you are part of the staff." the monotone voice answered.

"The staff?" your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Please, don't defy our command. We will come pick up the doll. Goodbye."

Click.

"Hello?" you stood there confused as Changbin's eyes filled with fear.

"I- I don't wanna go back there!" he panicked suddenly, grabbing at you.

"Hey, it's okay! We will find a way for you to stay. I don't want them to take you away either." you pulled Changbin into a hug and he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you a little.

"I feel this fear inside me, I don't know why. That voice-"

"Do you recognize it?" you asked and Changbin nodded.

"I do. But I can't remember who it is. There is like... different faces in my head all coming up at the same time." he pursed his lips in thought.

"Okay, we could drive up to my mother and grandma tomorrow?" you suggested.

"How are you going to explain me to them?"

"I'll just say you're my boyfriend, none of the doll talk, okay? We met at a gym or something." you said and Changbin chuckled, caressing your face.

"How convenient." he joked.

"Hey, it's believeable!" you defended and he giggled.

"Fine, fine, it is." he agreed as the cogs inside your brain already started turning.

You had to plan out how to avoid work because you haven't told your coworkers anything about the doll they gifted you coming to life.

You just hoped you could get Changbin safely out of here.

Early in the morning you were already packing together with Changbin but a ring on your doorbell stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Who's here at 6:30am?" you frowned, walking towards the door.

After opening it and unlocking the door, Changbin trailing behind you, you gasped in shock. There were six men in suits standing on your doorway.

"We came to collect the doll." one of them said.

"You can't!" you yelled.

"Why?" the man asked.

"He is alive, he has free will and he doesn't want to go with you! Now leave, before I sue your entire company!" you tried threatening them but they just exchanged silent looks.

"Step aside. We are going to collect the doll."

"Over my dead body." you got angry but Changbin quickly interfered.

"Y/n, please be careful." he begged as the men stepped inside and you launched your body aside, grabbing the baseball bat you kept near the door.

Changbin gasped as they grabbed him, no matter how strong he was they somehow seemed stronger. He looked up and saw you swinging the bat at one of them men, his eyes wide.

The bat collided with one of the suited men's face, fear rushing through your veins when a piece of his skin came flying off, revealing wires beneath the facade of a human face.

You shrieked, stepping back and the man looked at you before pulling out a huge syringe and walking towards Changbin.

"Stop it! No!" you screamed but the other men grabbed you, throwing the bat aside and holding you back as you thrashed around, trying to escape their hold.

The syringe was plunged into Changbin's neck and he immediately slumped down. You kept yelling at them but they dragged him away, slamming your own door in your face.

You had no idea what to do in that moment. Your body slid down on the floor as you sobbed. They took away Changbin from you, the man who loves you. Anger bubbled up inside you and then you remembered.

Property of BIMT.

You scrambled to stand up and ran to your laptop, quickly typing it in.

"The logo!" you gasped, remembering the building near the house lake. You knew the exact location they'd take Changbin.

"Bang Institute of Modern Technology? Ugh, as in Helena Bang the famous scientist?" you clicked on the page.

You skimmed through the article, finding out that Helena had died five years ago from a mysterious illness, all her research and work falling into the hands of a rich man whose name was doctor Park.

"I'm coming to get you Binnie, don't you worry."

In his room, Felix heard commotion outside of the door. He rushed to it, his palms pressed against the cold metal as he peeped through the slit.

A few of the suited men were carrying Changbin towards another room, opposite of Felix's.

"Changbin! Changbin, can you hear me?!" Felix yelled desperately and one of them turned towards the sound, lifting his fist and pounding loudly against Felix's door, scaring him.

"Be quiet, number six!" the man yelled. Felix backed away with tears gathering in his eyes.

What will they do to them now?

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4linos · 1 month ago

Text

he calls you a gold digger.

ot8 x fem!reader

warnings: angst, asshole skz lol, no happy endings.

wc: 5961

[he calls you a gold digger part 2]

[a/n: this is non idol!skz]

bang chan

The scent of garlic and onions filled the kitchen as you stood by the stove, stirring a pot of simmering sauce. It had been a long day, but the simple act of making dinner for Chan was something that always made you feel grounded. It was a quiet comfort, a reminder that no matter how chaotic the world outside was, the two of you had a place to return to.

You heard the front door open. The usual sound of keys dropping onto the counter didn’t come. No soft greeting, no tired but affectionate “I’m home.” Just silence.

Something was wrong.

You turned, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you peeked into the living room. Chan stood there, shoulders stiff, his face blank. Too blank. His bags were still slung over his shoulders, like he hadn’t even thought to set them down.

“Hey.” Your voice was careful, soft. “Everything okay?”

For a second, he didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on you, dark and unreadable. He looked different worn out, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. And then, finally, he spoke.

“I lost everything.”

Three words. Heavy. Absolute.

Your hands stilled, the dish towel falling forgotten onto the counter. “What?”

“My business.” His voice was void of any emotion, like he had already accepted the words as truth, but that didn’t make them hurt any less. “My money. Everything I’ve built.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Gone.”

The weight of his confession hit you like a wave, but your first instinct wasn’t panic or concern for yourself, it was him. You could only imagine the pressure he had been under, the stress, the exhaustion. He had worked so hard, spent so many sleepless nights building everything from the ground up, and now it had been ripped away.

“Chan…” You took a cautious step forward, instinctively reaching for him, wanting to hold him, to tell him that no matter what happened, you were here.

But then he did something that made your stomach twist.

He stepped back.

It was slight just enough to put distance between you, but you felt it like a physical blow.

“Still pretending, huh?”

The words stung, sharp and unexpected.

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden hostility. “What?”

Chan let out a hollow laugh, the kind that didn’t hold an ounce of warmth. “Don’t act so surprised,” he muttered, his jaw clenched. His eyes bore into yours, but there was something different in them, something you had never seen directed at you before. Doubt.

Your heart pounded. “Chan, what are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said, voice sharper now. “The money’s gone. There’s nothing left. So let’s see how long you actually stick around.”

The accusation hit like a knife to the gut.

You took a step back now, shaking your head, trying to understand where this was coming from. “You think I’m here for your money?”

He didn’t answer right away. That was the worst part.

He just looked at you.

Like he was waiting for you to crack. Like he expected you to drop the act, to run, to do exactly what people had told him you would do.

And that’s when you realized it.

Someone had put this idea in his head.

You had seen it before, the way people whispered in his ear, how he was constantly surrounded by those who only wanted a piece of him. You knew how hard it was for him to trust, how much he had been burned in the past. But you? After everything?

He believed them.

The realization made your throat tighten.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Chan swallowed, his expression unreadable. But the silence was enough of an answer.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your chest, but it wasn’t out of amusement. It was disbelief. It was pain. “So what?” you asked, crossing your arms tightly over yourself, like it could somehow shield you from the ache in your chest. “Did someone tell you that? That I was just here for your money?”

He didn’t deny it.

Of course.

You let out a sharp exhale, pressing your fingers to your temple as frustration mixed with the hurt. “I can’t believe this,” you muttered. “I’ve been with you through everything. I’ve been by your side when you were exhausted, when you were struggling, when you thought you weren’t enough.” Your voice wavered, but you didn’t care. “And now, now when you actually need me, you push me away? Because of this?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. “I lost everything, and I just needed to know if—”

“If I was using you?” You finished for him, your voice sharp with disbelief. “Really, Chan?”

He looked away for a second, as if the weight of his own words was finally sinking in. But the damage was already done.

You had been ready to fight for him, to stand by him through this storm, to carry him if you had to. But now, for the first time, you weren’t sure if he would have done the same for you.

You weren’t upset because he lost his money.

You were upset because he thought so little of you.

You were upset because, after everything, he still believed you were like them.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “I loved you when you had everything,” you said quietly. “I love you now, when you have nothing. And I would’ve stayed.” Your eyes met his, and you saw something flicker in them guilt, regret, something.

But it was too late.

“You’re the one pushing me away.”

The silence was deafening.

You turned off the stove, the half-finished meal now completely forgotten. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop treating me like a stranger.”

And with that, you walked past him, the weight of everything settling in your chest like lead. You didn’t know where you were going, maybe to the bedroom, maybe just away but you couldn’t stand there and let him tear you down like this.

Behind you, Chan didn’t move.

Didn’t call out.

Didn’t try to stop you.

And somehow, that hurt even more than the words.

lee know

For months, something had felt off. The warmth that once filled your relationship had been replaced with silence, with cold indifference. At first, you convinced yourself that Minho was just busy that work had been stressful, he was tired, maybe he just needed space. But space turned into distance, and distance turned into something that felt an awful lot like neglect.

You tried to ignore it. You tried to be understanding. You made excuses for him when he canceled plans last minute, told yourself he didn’t mean to ignore your messages for hours, that he wasn’t intentionally avoiding spending time with you. But the truth had been staring you in the face for a while now, and no amount of denial could change the way his eyes no longer lit up when he looked at you.

So tonight, as you sit across from him in your shared apartment, the weight of it all finally crushes you. The silence between you is suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through. You can’t take it anymore.

“Minho,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. He barely looks up from his phone.

You hesitate for a moment, fear creeping in, but you force yourself to continue. “Do you even love me anymore?”

That gets his attention. He exhales sharply, setting his phone down, but the look on his face isn’t one of surprise. If anything, he looks… exhausted. As if he’s been waiting for you to ask.

His answer is immediate, and it’s colder than you ever could have imagined.

“Would it matter?” He leans back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “You love my bank account more.”

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

It’s a joke. It has to be a joke. That’s the only way your brain can process the sheer cruelty of his words. But the way he stares at you flat, emotionless, indifferent tells you he means it.

You feel the sting behind your eyes, the way your chest tightens painfully. “Is that… really what you think of me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, as if saying it any louder will make it hurt more.

Minho lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Should I think anything else?” He tilts his head slightly, his gaze piercing. “You’ve never had a problem enjoying the things my money gets you. The expensive dinners, the vacations, the gifts.”

You swallow hard. “You bought those things for me, Minho. I never asked for them.”

“And yet, you never turned them down.”

His words feel like a slap, and suddenly, you see everything in a different light. He doesn’t just think you love his money. He thinks that’s the only reason you stayed. All this time, while you were worrying about losing him, blaming yourself, wondering if you weren’t enough. He was looking at you like you were nothing more than someone using him.

You shake your head, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. “That’s really how little you think of me, huh?” Your voice wavers, but you refuse to break in front of him.

Minho doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to take it back, doesn’t try to explain. He just watches you, unbothered, like your pain means nothing.

And maybe it never did.

You inhale shakily, your hands trembling as you push yourself up from the couch. “If that’s how you see me, then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

You wait, just for a second. You wait to see if he’ll stop you, if he’ll call your name, if there’s even a fraction of the man you fell in love with left in him.

But he stays silent.

So you turn and walk away, knowing this time, you won’t look back.

changbin

The tension had been building for weeks. No, months.

At first, it had been easy to ignore. The little jabs, the passive-aggressive sighs, the way conversations that used to flow effortlessly now felt strained, every word weighed down with something unsaid.

You and Changbin used to laugh over stupid things, steal kisses in the kitchen, curl up on the couch after long days without a single worry about the outside world. Now, it felt like the walls of your shared apartment were closing in, suffocating you both. Every conversation turned into a fight. Every fight felt like another crack in something you weren’t sure could be fixed.

And tonight was no different.

It had started with something ridiculous, him complaining that you left the lights on when you left for work. It was such a small thing, the kind of problem that would’ve been solved with a simple my bad, won’t happen again in the past. But not anymore.

Now, everything was a reason to snap.

“Oh, so I’m the problem?” you scoffed, tossing your bag onto the counter. “I left the lights on, and that’s enough to start another fight? Do you even hear yourself?”

“You don’t listen to me,” Changbin shot back, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I’ve told you a million times. But you don’t care, do you?”

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t about the damn lights. It never was.

“Don’t make this about me not caring,” you said, voice sharp. “You pick a fight over everything lately. I can’t even breathe without you finding something to be mad about.”

His eyes darkened, frustration rolling off him in waves. “Maybe if you didn’t act like I was a burden, I wouldn’t feel this way.”

You froze, something in your chest twisting painfully. “What?”

“You think I don’t notice?” He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “The way you look at me like I’m just some obstacle in your life? Like I’m just here?”

Your nails dug into your palms. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped closer, eyes locked onto yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t even want to be here.”

That wasn’t true. That wasn’t true. But the words were out, and they stung.

“You don’t get to say that,” you said, voice shaking despite your best efforts. “You don’t get to act like I don’t try, like I don’t do everything I can to keep this together.”

Changbin scoffed. “Keep this together? You barely contribute. Do you even realize how much of this life I built for us? You wouldn’t last a day without my money.”

Silence.

The words hung in the air, suffocating, heavy, irreversible.

Your heart stopped, then restarted, hammering against your ribs.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. It was like all the air had been sucked from the room.

Changbin’s breathing was heavy, his face still set in anger, but something flickered in his eyes, like he was realizing, too late, what he had just said.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because the damage was done.

Numbly, you turned away, walking toward the door without another word. You grabbed your coat off the hook, pulling it on with slow, deliberate movements. Your fingers trembled slightly as you buttoned it, but you refused to let him see.

The air was thick with silence as you reached for the handle.

Then, just as you pushed the door open, you turned back to him.

Your voice was quiet, but sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

“Watch me.”

And then you left.

The door clicked shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, the apartment was silent.

Changbin didn’t move. His fists were still clenched, his heart still racing, his mind still replaying the last five minutes like a car crash happening in slow motion.

But as the weight of what he had just done finally sank in, the anger drained from his face, replaced by something colder.

Regret.

hyunjin

The air is thick with warmth and laughter, the kind that fills the spaces between crystal glasses and designer dresses, that hums beneath the polished marble floors of Hyunjin’s penthouse. Everything is perfect the lighting, the music, the effortless way his friends drape themselves across velvet couches, expensive rings catching the light as they swirl their drinks.

You’ve always felt like an outsider here.

No one says it to your face, of course. They’re too well-mannered for that. Too used to playing pretend. But you’ve seen the looks, the subtle smirks, the quick glances exchanged when you walk into the room. You’ve heard the whispers that slip through conversations when they think you’re not paying attention.

“She’s cute, but she’s not exactly his type, is she?"

"God, she’s so lucky. Imagine dating Hyunjin."

“No, he’s the lucky one." A laugh. "I mean, she gets to live like this."

You tell yourself their words don’t matter. That Hyunjin is different. That he sees you, not just the world you’ve stepped into by being with him.

So you smile. You play along. You pretend that their quiet judgment doesn’t cling to you like the scent of expensive perfume.

But then, tonight happens.

It’s a simple thing, really. A moment so brief you could have missed it.

You had left the main room to grab another bottle of wine from the kitchen, your heels clicking softly against the floor as the sounds of the party faded behind you. The conversation drifts from the other side of the hallway low voices, laughter, the easy cadence of people who have never had to question their place in the world.

And then, your name.

You hesitate. You shouldn’t stop to listen. But something in their tone makes your feet still, fingers tightening around the bottle in your hand.

“I mean, come on, man, it’s obvious, right?" A scoff. “She’s nice and all, but let’s be real, she’s here because of you. Or, more like, what you have."

Someone chuckles, the sound like ice in your veins.

“She just loves the lifestyle."

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath.

Because then, clear as anything, his voice.

"Yeah."

It’s not just the word. It’s how he says it.

No hesitation. No disbelief. No anger, no defense, not even a hint of irritation at the way they reduce you to nothing more than a girl who got lucky. Just agreement. Casual, effortless agreement.

Like he’s always known. Like he’s never questioned it.

Like he believes it, too.

The room tilts slightly. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the party outside feeling miles away.

You tell yourself you misheard. That there’s some other explanation. But then you risk a glance around the corner, just for confirmation, just to see..

And there he is.

Hyunjin, leaning back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the corner of his mouth curled into something close to amusement. There’s no discomfort in his expression, no regret. Just ease. Just familiarity. Like this is normal. Like this is nothing.

You feel something crack inside you.

It’s not loud. It’s not even dramatic. It’s just… quiet. A shift, a realization, a slow-burning pain that settles beneath your ribs.

Because the worst part isn’t that his friends think it.

It’s that he does, too.

It’s that maybe he always has.

You stand there, frozen, as something heavy and unfamiliar washes over you. Anger. Humiliation. Betrayal. All tangled together, knotting tightly in your throat.

And then someone calls your name.

Your head snaps up. The moment shatters. You’re back in the party, back in his world, back in the role you’ve been playing all along.

You inhale sharply. You smooth out your expression. You press down the ache, push the betrayal into some distant part of your mind, and step forward with a smile.

You don’t confront him.

Not tonight.

Tonight, you laugh when he touches your waist. You let him kiss your temple as if nothing has changed. You play the perfect host, refill drinks, weave through conversations with the same practiced ease as always.

You let him think everything is fine.

Because if he truly believes you’re just here for the lifestyle,

Then you’ll make damn sure he regrets it when you leave.

HAN

The moment is perfect at least, it should be.

The warm glow of fairy lights bathes the room in gold, casting soft shadows across the gathered faces of your friends and family. Laughter and conversation had filled the air just moments before, but now, silence settles over them like a held breath, heavy with anticipation. Your heart pounds against your ribs, your hands trembling at your sides as Jisung lowers himself onto one knee.

You stare down at him, wide-eyed, as the world around you blurs. The only thing you can focus on is him his dark, nervous eyes looking up at you, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small velvet box he clutches between his fingers.

Your hands fly to your mouth, a choked breath catching in your throat. This is it. The moment you’d imagined since you were young, tracing wedding dresses in magazines and twirling around in your mother’s oversized jewelry, dreaming of the day someone would love you enough to ask you to spend forever with them.

And that someone is Jisung. Your Jisung.

The room waits, charged with electricity. His hands tremble slightly as he opens the box, revealing the most breathtaking ring you’ve ever seen simple, elegant, perfect. Just like you’d always imagined.

And then he speaks.

“Guess I finally paid enough to keep you."

Your heart stops.

At first, you think you’ve misheard. That the nerves crackling in your veins have distorted his words, twisting them into something they weren’t. But no. His voice, quiet yet sharp, laced with something you can’t quite place resentment? Bitterness? echoes in your ears.

A chill spreads through your chest, replacing the warmth that had been building there.

What…?

Your breath catches, fingers curling at your sides. The room hasn’t noticed your family, your friends, they’re all too busy gasping, whispering, snapping photos. They see only the proposal, the grand romantic gesture. They don’t see the way your entire world has just tilted, how something inside you has cracked down the middle.

Jisung slides the ring onto your finger, and it’s beautiful, just as you’d always dreamed. But suddenly, it feels heavy.

Does he… does he really think that? That this moment, this life together is just something you wanted, something you chased, rather than something that grew between you both, something you built with love and trust?

Your throat tightens. The cheers swell around you as Jisung rises to his feet, still holding your hand. He smiles for the cameras, for the crowd, for everyone watching. And you are supposed to smile back. You’re supposed to throw your arms around him, say yes, let tears of joy spill down your cheeks as he kisses you breathless.

But how can you? How can you pretend that everything is perfect when the man you love, the man you thought loved you just as deeply, just implied that this was all some kind of goal? Some kind of prize?

Your lips part, but your voice is trapped somewhere in your chest, tangled in the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You know everyone is waiting for your response, but for the first time in your life, you have no idea what to say.

Jisung squeezes your hand gently, as if urging you to say something, anything. The weight of expectation is suffocating.

You force yourself to breathe, to push through the tightness in your throat. And then, barely above a whisper, you murmur,

“Is that really what you think of me?"

His smile falters. It’s just for a second so quick you almost miss it, but you see it. The hesitation. The slight flicker of emotion behind his eyes, something conflicted, something he doesn’t want you to see.

Your stomach twists.

"Jisung," you whisper, voice unsteady but firm. "Do you really think… that’s all this is to me?"

He doesn’t answer right away. And that silence, that pause, is louder than any response he could have given.

Your breath shudders out of you, your pulse pounding in your ears. Say something, you want to beg. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t actually think that.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, his jaw tensing, his eyes darting away just for a moment, but long enough for you to know.

Your vision blurs at the edges. The cheers around you start to sound distant, like they belong to another world. One where this moment is still perfect. One where Jisung never said those words.

felix

You always knew Mia hated you.

From the moment you and Felix got together, she made it clear maybe not in words, but in the way she looked at you, the way she spoke about you when she thought no one was listening. She never missed an opportunity to make you feel like an outsider, like you didn’t belong in his world.

And the worst part? Felix never saw it.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he’d say whenever you tried to bring it up. “She’s just blunt. She’s always been like that.”

“She likes you, I swear. You’re just overthinking it.”

“You always do this, thinking people are against you when they’re not.”

Every single time, he brushed it off, making you feel like you were the problem. Like you were paranoid. Insecure. But you knew the truth. You saw the way Mia looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. You heard the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, how her entire demeanor shifted when he was around.

She wanted him.

And she hated you for being the one he chose.

You tried to push it aside, for Felix’s sake. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend who made him pick sides, didn’t want to be the person he saw as controlling or jealous. But that nagging feeling in your chest never left.

And one night, everything came crashing down.

Felix had gone out with some friends, Mia included. It wasn’t unusual he had a close-knit group, and you never wanted to be the kind of girlfriend who kept him from them. So you stayed home, trying not to think about the way Mia would be sitting too close, laughing too hard at his jokes, looking at him like he was hers.

You weren’t expecting anything to be different when he got home.

But the second he walked through the door, you knew something was wrong.

He wouldn’t look at you. His jaw was tight, his movements stiff as he set his keys down on the counter with more force than necessary. The air around him felt heavier, charged with something dangerous.

“Felix?” You took a cautious step forward. “What’s wrong?”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he finally looked at you. But there was no warmth in his eyes. No love. Just something cold. Something distant.

“So it was all a lie.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Mia told me everything. She said you admitted to it.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. “Admitted to what?”

His expression hardened. “Using me.”

The words barely registered at first. They felt foreign, impossible, like something ripped out of a nightmare.

“She said you told her everything,” he continued, voice tight with anger. “That you only stayed with me because of my money. That it was never about me.”

A sharp breath left your lungs. Your entire body went cold.

“Felix,” you whispered, shaking your head, “that’s not true.”

“Is it not?” His laugh was bitter, broken. “Because you sure seemed comfortable spending my money. Letting me take care of everything. And Mia… she said you told her you never really loved me.” His voice cracked on the last part, but he quickly masked it with anger. “That it was all just convenient.”

Tears welled in your eyes. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

“Mia is lying.” You took a step toward him, but he moved back. That single action shattered something inside you.

Felix had never pulled away from you before.

“Why would she lie?” he challenged.

You let out a broken laugh, disbelieving. “Felix, she hates me. You know that. You’ve always known that.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” His voice was sharp, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

“She does.” Your voice trembled. “She hates me because she wants you.”

Silence.

A flicker of something crossed his face hesitation, doubt but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t sit here and question everything, wonder if any of it was ever real.”

Your breath hitched. “Felix, please—”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you realized you had already lost.

Because he didn’t believe you.

And nothing you said would change that.

Tears blurred your vision. Your chest ached, your heart cracking under the weight of the realization that this wasn’t just a fight. This wasn’t something you could fix.

This was the end.

Felix exhaled, running a hand down his face. “I think you should go.”

A sob threatened to escape, but you swallowed it down. Your hands trembled at your sides.

You wanted to scream, to shake him and make him see, but what was the point?

He had already decided.

So, with a broken heart and unsteady steps, you walked away.

seungmin

The room feels colder than it should. Maybe it’s the way Seungmin stands across from you, arms crossed, his jaw tight with frustration. Maybe it’s the way the air between you is thick with words left unsaid, with misunderstandings piling up faster than either of you can fix them. Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion settling into your bones, the kind that doesn’t come from lack of sleep but from trying, constantly trying, only to feel like you’re getting nowhere.

You don’t even know how the argument started this time. But somehow, it always came back to this. Money.

“You act like I’m just throwing it in your face,” Seungmin says, his voice sharp but controlled, as if he’s trying to keep himself from losing his temper. “I’m trying to take care of you. Why is that such a bad thing?”

Your hands clench at your sides. You��ve explained this before. So many times before. “Taking care of me doesn’t mean replacing everything with money, Seungmin. I don’t need gifts. I don’t need a damn shopping spree every time we have an argument.”

His expression doesn’t change, but there’s something behind his eyes something unreadable, something distant. “That’s just how I show I care.”

“No, that’s just how you avoid dealing with things,” you shoot back before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavier than either of you expected.

Seungmin’s lips press into a thin line. He takes a slow breath, tilting his head slightly, like he’s thinking, calculating his next move. And then, without another word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his black card. The limitless one. The one he’s used to fix things before.

He throws it onto the table between you. The sound is small, barely more than a soft tap against the wood, but it echoes in your chest like a gunshot.

“Take what you want and go.”

Your breath catches.

Not because you’re surprised, he’s done this before. But because this time, it doesn’t just feel like a way to end the argument. This time, it feels like he’s pushing you out completely.

Your heart aches, but you’re too tired to let it break. Not again.

You stare at the card. It feels like an insult, like a test, like a final confirmation of something you never wanted to believe: that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you’ve fought for him, he still doesn’t see you. Not really.

Slowly, you lift your gaze back to his. He looks indifferent bored, even. But you know him better than that. You see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

Still, he says nothing.

And that’s when you realize, you’re done.

Done proving yourself. Done trying to make him understand something he refuses to see. Done fighting for something that shouldn’t need to be fought for in the first place.

You take a deep breath, forcing the lump in your throat to disappear. When you speak, your voice is calm. Steady. Final.

“Keep your money,” you say. “I was never here for that.”

For a second, just a second something flickers across his face. But it’s gone before you can name it. And he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t stop you.

So you turn. And you leave.

Your steps are slow, deliberate, as if you’re waiting for him to call out, to take it back. To say something.

But he doesn’t.

And when you finally walk out the door, Seungmin is left standing alone, staring at the black card on the table, the proof of everything he just lost.

I.N

The restaurant was buzzing with life. Soft music playing over the speakers, the low hum of conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware against plates. The warmth of dim lights cast a golden glow over the long dinner table where Jeongin, his friends, and their girlfriends sat, chatting and laughing.

You sat beside Jeongin, as you always did, trying to find comfort in the presence of the girls, the only ones who ever made you feel like you belonged. They were kind. They never hesitated to speak up when Jeongin’s friends made their usual offhand comments about you.

And they always did.

It started small, as it always did. A jab here, a snide remark there.

“She looks miserable.”

“Is she even listening?”

“Does she ever talk, or do you just keep her around for the company?”

It wasn’t new. They had never liked you, and they never tried to hide it. You weren’t sure why, and after months of trying to figure it out, you had stopped searching for a reason. Maybe they thought you weren’t good enough for him. Maybe they just didn’t like how different you were from the girls they surrounded themselves with.

Maybe they just enjoyed having someone to tear down.

You tried to ignore it, as you always did. You focused on your food, on the warm, reassuring presence of the girls beside you, who were already rolling their eyes and preparing to snap back at them.

But the worst part the part that always hurt more than their words was Jeongin’s silence.

He never said anything. Never told them to stop. Never made them see how much it hurt you.

At first, you convinced yourself that he just wasn’t good at confrontation. That maybe he didn’t notice how deeply their words cut. Maybe he thought ignoring them was the best way to make them stop.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t true.

Because no matter how many times you told him, no matter how many times he saw the way you shut down, the way your hands clenched under the table, the way your voice grew quieter with every insult, he never did anything.

And then, tonight, they took it a step further.

“How much do you think she’d take if you broke up with her?”

The words were casual, spoken with a grin, like it was just another joke. But they weren’t laughing at you this time.

They were laughing about you.

And then Jeongin laughed too.

The sound hit you like a punch to the stomach.

Not a hesitant chuckle. Not an awkward attempt to brush it off.

A real laugh. Like it was funny. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like you didn’t mean anything.

The girls beside you stiffened. One of them sucked in a sharp breath, her hand reaching out like she wanted to stop you from reacting. Another was already snapping at the guys, her voice sharp, angry.

But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Because the one person who was supposed to care, the one person who should have never let it get this far was laughing with them.

You turned to Jeongin, hoping begging to see something on his face. Regret. Guilt. Anything.

But he wasn’t even looking at you.

He didn’t even realize what he’d done.

Something inside you broke.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, blinking quickly as your vision blurred. Your heart pounded in your chest, a painful, hollow ache spreading through you.

The conversation around you continued, the laughter still ringing in your ears, but you couldn’t hear it anymore.

All you could hear was your own heart shattering.

The chair scraped against the floor as you stood abruptly, the sudden movement drawing attention. Jeongin finally turned to you, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Like he didn’t understand.

Like he hadn’t just destroyed you.

The girls were already shifting, ready to go after you, but you shook your head. You didn’t want comfort. You didn’t want pity. You just needed to leave.

So you did.

You turned and walked away, your breath unsteady, your hands shaking.

And as you stepped out into the cold night air, the only thought running through your mind was simple.

If he really cares, he’ll come after me.

But deep down, you already knew.

He wouldn’t.

masterlist.

❌ proofread

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hyuneflix · 16 days ago

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asking bsf!skz if they're tryna fuck

reader asks bsf!skz if they're tryna fuck, but they're joking right? right guys? NSFW, 18+

HYUNG LINE • 형 라인

MAKNAE LINE • 막내 라인

are you still watching? << exit // continue watching (bsf!skz) >>

A/N: so idk if this is even entertaining or just stupid but i thought i should probably try and release more content in between major updates to keep people busy <3

lemme know what you think :)

taglist @mangojellyyy • @diekleinesuesse • @geni-627 • @fun-fanfics • @candyquokka • @painterhyunjin • @velvetmoonlght • @velvetskize

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vxlvted · 22 days ago

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pussy drunk!felix

Felix is already so affectionate and eager during sex, but when he’s absolutely pussy drunk, he turns into the neediest, most desperate mess.

felix gets pussy drunk fast, sometimes before you’ve even fully started, the anticipation as he kisses his way down your skin has him breathing heavy, hands kneading your thighs (felix is absolutely a thigh guy, you can’t convince me otherwise) as he stares down at your dripping core with dark, hungry eyes.

he’s very vocal, whimpering, groaning and moaning onto your folds. felix has a HUGE potty mouth, it’s like he can’t even control what he’s saying, uttering the most vile things as he licks and sucks on your clit.

his hands tremble a little as he spreads your legs open, running his fingers along your slit, watching closely at how you shudder at his touch. He loves seeing how sensitive you are for him, how desperate you are when you arch up into his touch.

he lets out low groans, whispered praises, and shaky breaths against your thighs. he needs so badly to taste you, to be buried between your thighs that he’ll take you almost anywhere. pulling you into the bathroom while you’re out with friends, bending you over the kitchen counter while your cooking and shoving your panties your thighs down just to get a taste.

the moment his mouth makes contact with you he moans. loud, as if the taste of you alone is ruining him. tongue lapping over your folds. he’s incredibly sloppy with it, making a mess of himself. chin soaked, a mixture of his spit and your juices dripping down onto whatever surface your on. he loves it.

he constantly overstimulates himself just by eating you out. he gets so into it and so lost in you that he ruts his hips against the mattress instinctively. he’ll hump the bed, your legs, anything within reach, he just needs to feel some friction.

his cock is aching, leaking but he doesn’t care. he’s not even thinking about himself, he just wants to make you feel good.

“Shit—‘m gonna cum,” he pants against your clit, voice shaky and deep.

but he doesn’t stop, both his hips and his tongue keep moving. even when his jaw starts to ache and he’s out of breath, he refuses to stop until he feels you falling apart on his tongue.

he absolutely lives for the way your thighs shake around his head, the way your hands tangle into his blonde locks and tug hard as you cry out his name.

when—if—he pulls away, and you finally see his face. face flushed bright red, lips swollen from how much he’s been using his mouth on you. his eyes are glassy and almost teary.

“One more time baby. Please?” he begs, nuzzling his cheek into your thigh, voice hoarse from how much he’s been moaning into you. “Just one more. Promise i’ll make you feel so good.”

he’ll at least give you a bit of time to calm down and steady your breathing, kissing up and down your thighs till then, but once you give him the go ahead, he immediately snaps right back into it.

his words are incoherent at this point. he starts babbling against you, voice muffled as he keeps sucking, licking and kissing you while whining, “Fuck, baby, you taste so good. I need you. I need you so bad. Fuck—”

he’s perfectly content with spending the rest of the night between your legs, you don’t have to give him anything in return. but he definitely wouldn’t be opposed to being able to feel your slick warmth wrapped around him when he’s finally done.

at the end of it all, he’s so out of it. he collapses against your stomach, panting, trembling from his own orgasms. If you try to move he’ll whine and hug your thighs, not wanting to let you go. presses lazy kisses to your belly and all the way up your body, all messy and slow.

after you’re both completely spent, he wants you be completely wrapped around you, skin on skin. “I love you.” he mumbles against your skin and drifts off to sleep, finally content.

and who knows. if you wake up to him between your thighs once again, tongue gently flicking your clit… well, that’s just how it’s meant to be.

Taglist:

If you’d like to be put on (or taken off) the taglist, feel free to let me know!

@yaorzu-blog | @pixie-felix | @compersian | @tshyn | @kittenchaos2024

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

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knowbites · 1 month ago

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　✶　QUIET MOMENTS　｡｡　feat.ㅤstray kids

　────　some simple, soft thoughts . . .

⠀ pairing.⠀⠀stray kids members x f!reader⠀wc.⠀⠀2 . 4 k words ⠀ genre.⠀⠀pure fluff⠀cw.⠀⠀none, just domestic, intimate moments between you and the stray kids members ーfelix's is a bit suggestive at the end!

an.⠀⠀hihi thought of posting this while i work on that changbin long fic! some cute headcanons about the skz boys. i really really love domestic moments and the intimacy of it. i hope you like it!

BANG CHAN . . UNDIVIDED ATTENTION

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for chan it's the almost gravitational way you always rotate around each other, with passing caresses and soothing embraces, unable to separate. it's the way your legs tangle under the sheets at night, when you inevitably end up wrapped in his arms and your minds drift off to sleep in harmony. it's every time you walk outside and your hand finds a place next to his, at first just brushing, but always gently intertwining your fingers. when he invites you to his company events, and guides you through the crowd of guests with the warm palm of his hand pressed into the small of your back, murmuring in your ear a low ‘i'm going to say hello to some colleagues, just give me a second’, waiting for you to give him that shy little smile followed by a quick nod. or at a quiet dinner, surrounded by your closest friends, forever sitting right next to you, his hand drawing meaningless shapes on the bare skin of your thigh absentmindedly. chan carries the weight of the conversation, but he's always paying attention to you. if you even hint you want to say something, he'll lean back in his seat, looking at you as if you hang the stars in the sky every night, sliding his arm around the back of your chair, caressing your shoulders, playing with your hair, smiling at every word you pronounce. it's the way he leaves a kiss on your temple when one of your friends points out what a good couple you make, and you press yourself against him, blushing and embarrassed, but still resting your hand on his chest, cuddling onto him with pride.

LEE KNOW . . YOUR VOICE

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for minho it's the way the velvety sound of your voice can make the weight of a bad day slide off his shoulders, always greeting you with a big, genuine smile. it's the way he doesn't take a second to plug his bluetooth earbuds into his phone as soon as your personalised notification tune starts playing, indicating that a new audio from you has arrived in your chat. you usually narrate whatever has just happened to you as if you were recording a podcast exclusively for him, and minho can't help but listen to every second of it with a smitten, adoring gesture curving his lips. it's hearing you humming in the kitchen when he wakes up, starting his day in a good mood and with a slightly scorched pancake in his hand, or receiving your sleepy greeting when he wakes up first and you can only cling to him as he finishes preparing the breakfast. it's your giggles, his playful whispers, your cranky protests and the voice you make when apologising to him after an argument, even if it wasn't your fault, just because you hate fighting with him. but most of all it's at night, when you watch him chop vegetables for dinner while you go on and on about everything you've done during the day. and specially when you pause, paying attention to the music playing on the radio, and you miss the comment he makes, something along the lines of ‘you look pretty on my counter’. but it's okay, for him it's totally okay. because you just exclaimed that your favourite song is on and you started dancing in the middle of the kitchen, and he knows it is, but he smiles nonetheless. he knows because he's always listening to you: that's the song that plays every time you text him.

SEO CHANGBIN . . QUIETNESS OF CHORES TOGETHER

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for changbin it's the way in which your presence has become his safe space, and you his pillar, always willing to let him carry some of his worries on your shoulders. the way you stand so firm and secure, with a soft smile curving your lips, welcoming him with open arms. it's the way that since he was young he has needed to keep quiet about everything he feels, to avoid hurting anyone who might hear him speak, but it never happened with you. knowing your limits, he speaks with the freedom of one who knows he is in a place he trusts, relating what he has done during the day, but also sharing his private thoughts and deepest longings. it's all those times he has come home to spent some time talking, sitting in bed, while you make notes or tidy up the room. you listen to him, paying attention to every word, and he always feels better after talking to you ーeven if you haven't let out any sound other than a soft hum. it's the way you know him so well, that if he arrives in a bad mood, or even sad, or just doesn't feel like talking, you walk him to your bathroom to put on your gym outfits, and take him with you to release energy. and even if any of you don't feel like it, then he's the one who helps you clean up, selecting a random playlist from his private spotify account and vacuuming, mopping, or even his favourite: doing the laundry. being able to smell the clean towels and sheets, taking your time to fold them carefully and neatly, him holding two corners and you holding the other two, doing it together, and getting to sit on the couch and watch it all tidy up makes you two feel satisfied.

HWANG HYUNJIN . . SHARED GAZES

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for hyunjin it's the way you look at each other, meeting in a room full of people even almost unintentionally. automatic, at first as a coincidence that made you blush like teenagers, and now as an old habit that never fails to make you smile. it's the way you don't need him to utter a word to know what he needs, to find out what's wrong with him. one look from him, his eyes moist with sadness, and you do whatever it takes to make it right. one look from you, full of loneliness, and you can't get him to leave you for the rest of the day. it’s looking into his eyes and knowing he's the most important person in your life. searching for him with your eyes when you hear something he'd love to know, and discovering his absence. missing the way his eyes curve into a smile when you hear a joke and he's not there. repeating word for word later in the day, knowing he's lost in thought, and his gaze lost on you, certain he'd smile with his eyes even if it wasn't funny. because it's you. it's coming home to find it silent, exhaling all the pent up stress he's been accumulating and being able to lose himself in your eyes. even before you go to sleep, when you meet in the bathroom to brush your teeth, it's that glance. sometimes tired, sometimes clear as a summer night, but always with the glow of the happiness you give each other. is when you make a silly face, and he has to hold back to keep the toothpaste foam from coming out of his nose, or dance in front of the mirror, humming whatever. even later, face to face on the mattress, when you look at each other in silence, tracing every detail you fell in love with, sometimes with your memories, sometimes with your fingers, sometimes with your lips.

HAN JISUNG . . LEARNING SELF LOVE

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for jisung it is the selfless and generous way you love him, as if it were as easy as breathing. the way you make him the centre of your universe at every sign of faltering, even when he doesn't think he deserves it. how you put all your trust in him from the beginning, overflowing so that he learned to trust himself too. how you treat him when he feels like a broken glass, too fractured and fragile, letting him lie in your lap, teaching him how precious he is, reassuring him for as long as he needs, with soft words and slow caresses. it's the way you say ‘baby, i'm home’ when it's seven o'clock and you've only just opened the door, always eager to get to him, and also how you never fail to show up at his late-night studio sessions with home-cooked food for him and his hyungs. you make sure you don't interrupt, and he always works better with you around. because you were the first person outside his circle that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of, the night you asked him how he was and he just crumbled, and you wrote 'i love you' on his arms with the marker you'd been painting with, until he started to believe it. but mostly because that time he decided to be the one to initiate physical contact, resting his head on your shoulder, he noticed how you tensed. he heard your heartbeat quicken, and was aware of the slow, calm way you tried to breathe. and when he heard changbin enter the room, as loud as ever, he had heard you threaten him with very unpleasant things if he made jisung wake up. he will never tell you that he was completely conscious, but he will love you just the same.

LEE FELIX . . PHYSICAL TOUCH

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for felix it's the way you both drown under each other's skin whenever you can, creating an ethereal bubble around you. the way your bodies seek each other out, taking refuge next to each the other when you want to hide from the world because you've become saturated with emotions. it's him collapsing on top of you when he comes back from a really physical session, letting your fingers dance over his aching muscles. it's how you snuggle into his chest after an argument with your best friend, seeking his warmth, not resuming the video game until he makes sure that all you need is his physical touch to rest. he will get fuzzy to your words, like when you show him how you see him on those days when he's feeling less confident, but he'll leave kisses on your forehead every time he notices you moving and will stop the game as soon as it's over to be with you. or in your routine, bathing together. when one of you goes to fetch the other because you're feeling down, and you intertwine your fingers on the way to the bathroom, tenderly undressing each other, cuddling under the fine line that separates the real world from underwater peace of mind. maybe you lean against him, letting him massage your shoulders, or maybe he has his eyes closed, his head on your chest as you wash his hair. but you are always skin to skin, letting your bones melt, the soft vanilla gel washing away your sadness, leaving only wet kisses and sighs contained in the tarnished tiles of your bathroom.

KIM SEUNGMIN . . GIFTS AND MEMORIES

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for seungmin it's the way your smile plagues his day to day, your memory constantly on his mind. it's the way that when it comes to you, everything else doesn't matter. it's your chat; plagued by highlighted messages, pictures that have reminded him of you, audios with drafts of tunes, videos he forces jeongin to record when they're on a trip, titles of books you'd once mentioned you'd like to read ーto confirm you love them before he buys them for youー, the review score of the movie you wanted to go to the cinema to see, a screenshot of your favourite artist's concert tickets. it's the way seungmin will do anything for you. from leaving you his hoodie at dusk, when the weather starts to cool down, to letting his phone bill run up, just to be able to hear your voice when he can't be with you. but none of that compares to the day you decided to move in together and he discovered he'd never been too much for you. he sat on your new shared bed, surrounded by packaging, and opened the shoebox that you had treated with the utmost care when you brought it up to your room from the car. every CD he had made for you, every polaroid and ticket, every note and receipt, even that attempted copy of his minho hyung's doodle he had made on a napkin, on one of your first dates. it's the way you've never made him feel like he's too much, matching his energy every step of the way.

YANG JEONGIN . . BUILDING HABITS

────⠀✉️⠀❛ for jeongin, it's the way you intertwined your lives without even thinking about it, accepting oddities and enjoying every moment. it's the way you started to memorise each other's likes and dislikes by sharing your time, like his favourite order of coffee or your favourite walk from home to work, which always passes in front of his work, so you could go together. it's the curve of your hip against the counter as you stir the food absently while you wait for him to come home, and the way you hang on his neck as soon as he walks in the door, covering his face with kisses. it's how clumsy he is, and all the band-aids you've had to put on, or vases to glue, but also how forgetful you are, and all those days when he's reminded you of important things he's written down on his phone for you. it's those almost nocturnal trips to do the shopping, because he never remembers and you always forget, and how you leave the house together, shoulder to shoulder, with knowing smiles on your faces. the walk hand in hand to the supermarket that opens later in the evening, taking advantage of the lit pavements to take couple photos or, if there aren't many people in the street, to record a cute tiktok. the way you slide your arms across his chest in a back hug as you wait for the traffic lights to turn green and cross, and the process of convincing each other to buy your favourite snacks at the same time as the food, without going over budget. those quiet moments when he insists on being the one to carry the bags, and then you both place them together in the kitchen cupboards, whispering love songs.

ㅤㅤwith love ,　© mars.　do not copy, translate, repost, share this work as yours on other platforms or feed it to the ai !　🔭 ˚. ⋆͏

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mentalhomosexual · 2 months ago

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‎‧₊˚✧[𝘚𝘬𝘻 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ]✧˚₊‧

ᯓ★ Pairing: Straykids x Fem reader

ᯓ★Tags: cumming inside,Minho calls reader a slut, just smut with no plot, they're all horny idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

˖࣪ ⊹𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

Chan could always tell when you were ovulating...imo I feel he would be the kind of boyfriend that would like to keep track of your cycle so he could know when he needs to buy you snacks and spoil you completely rotten BUT when it comes to ovulation that's a different story. He loves to tease you and see how riled up you get, like coming behind you and kissing your neck, knowing how much you love it, he whispers into your ear, pressing his clothed bulge against you but the moment you start to press back and softly moan he pulls away, leaving you hornier than you already were. :'(

Don't worry though, he'll fuck you after. And he's rough. he knows that's how you like it when your ovulating, your face pushed into a pillow as he pulls your hips back to meet his.

"Fuckk..it feels good doesn't it baby?"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰⊹ ࣪ ˖

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

He knows that your ovulating but he makes you wait for it, he pretends not to notice your lustfull gazes at him or your lingering touches, he can't help it he just loves to tease you, but he can only deny you so long before he wants you just as bed. He fucks you relentlessly. Face shoved into a pillow with your ass up, you love being fucked dumb by him, wheather you're ovulating or not. Harsh slaps to your ass as he tells you how much of a slut you are. True paradise. 🤌🏽

"Such a slut aren't you? want me to breed your pretty pussy, baby?~"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

He secretly loves it. You get so worked up just seeing his muscles. he makes sure to wear sleeveless shirts and tank tops around you just to see you fight back demons, he lets you do whatever you want because he knows how rapid you become during ovulation, he lays back with an arm behind his head as you ride him. He tells you how beautiful you are ontop of him and you swear you see stars...maybe one baby wouldn't hurt ? 🤩

"so pretty baby—fuck, you feel so good"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Of course, Hyunjin would give you whatever you wanted during ovulation. He secretly likes it too, 🤫. He's hitting it from the back, your fucked out moans filling the room, your turn your head back and start mumbling words.

"What's the matter baby? Talk to me" he grins as he sees your face, your practically drooling on yourself.

"Mmm...take the condom off...wanna feel all of you~" you whine, He grins at your request, he does as he's told before immediately sliding back inside you, your eyes rolling back at his quickening pace, the tip of his cock kissing all your sweet spots. This was a surprise to Hyunjin because you're usually so on top of using protection and judging by the way you're rolling back to meet his thrust, moaning and whining like a baby and telling him to fuck you raw...oh you're definitely ovulating, it turns him on seeing you so desperate for his cum like this.

"Such a nasty girl, huh? Wanting me to fuck you raw"

He says lowly as he leans down and kisses your neck, You nod as you push back against him more.

"Oh my goddd...fuck I'm gonna cum, baby please~" You whine as you bury your face into the pillow.

"Please what?" He teases, leaning up against the shell of your ear, whispering into it knowing full well what you're asking for, He just likes to hear you say it.

˖࣪ ⊹𝘏𝘢𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

This sex addict doesn't even notice a change. You two fuck so often that when you randomly want to go a couple more rounds than usual he thinks nothing of it.

"pleasee~ want you to fuck me againnn" you whine as you claw at his back, you've both cum like 4 times already and he's becoming sensitive but like I said, He doesn't stop. Overstimulating himself in your pussy is like a dream to him, he could do it for the rest of his life and die happy.

"Mm, gonna milk me fucking dry aren't you, baby?~"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

He would be a obvious to it at first, as he cuddles with you he notices that you groan when his head shifts on your chest...he look at you with his cute little concerned face before speaking

"What's wrong? Am I hurting you?" He asks softly, you chuckle and Shake your head

"No you're fine, my breast are just a bit sensitive..I'm ovulating" you admit and it all strarts to make sense why you've been so clingy and sensitive lately. His cheeks flush a light pink.

"Oh, I'm sorry, love" he apologizes as he pulls you closer to him, he kinda feels bad for not noticing sooner. He apologizes by burying his face in between those beautiful thighs of yours, eating you out till you cry 💖

"You always taste so good angel, cum on my face one more time, yeah?"

˖࣪ ⊹𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘮𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

He knows something is up when you become extremely clingy. It's something you always tend to do when that time comes around. You sit straddled on his lap as you softly make out, he doesn't question nor deny you when you're like this, who is he to turn down mind-blowing sex? He listens to everything you babble to him as he fucks into you.

"You want me to cum inside of you? I wanna hear you beg for it first~" He chuckles menacingly at your pathetic high pitched pleas.

˖࣪ ⊹𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯⊹ ࣪ ˖

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

This nasty boy operates as if he can ovulate too. It doesn't matter what you're wearing or how you look, he's gonna get rock hard just looking at you. You're doing laundry, throwing the clothes in the washer and you feel him sneak up behind you, already feeling his bulge press on your lower back.

"I just wanna bend you over this machine and fuck you right now" he whispers into your ear, nibbling on the lobe, you feel him push into you more, you bite your lip as his hands come up to knead your breast, you sigh in pleasure before pushing your ass against him.

"Then why don't you do it then?~" you grin as you turn you head back to meet his gaze, you certainly don't have to tell him twice, he fucks you like there's no tomorrow, like he'll never see you again. It's enough to leave your legs wobbly for a couple days but it's worth it

"Can you feel me deep inside you, baby? Gonna let me cum inside of you?"

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sunshineangel0 · 4 days ago

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hickeys everywhere (hyung line)

pairing- stray kids ot8 x reader summary- You send one text—“I have hickeys. Everywhere.”—and each of them responds in their own very them way. From smug smirks to chaotic panic to dramatic pride, one thing’s clear: they’re all way too good at leaving their mark. genre- text fic, flirty, suggestive, chaotic word count- n/a warnings- established relationship / fwb (not explicitly told what it is), hickeys/marking (neck, thighs, chest), biting, dom energy, possessiveness, teasing, light jealousy, implied smut a/n- eight men. one chaotic prompt. this is the hyung line version—maknae line coming next 👀 maknae line

chan

lee know

changbin

hyunjin

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub @slut4junho @bobaluvzz @channiesbaby1433

(if you wanna be added to the taglist comment below!)

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bangchanwifey · 9 days ago

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boyfriend texts with changbin .ᐟ.ᐟ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

— all fake texts !

contains: bf!seo changbin x female!reader

warnings: language, female reader, suggestive content (?), pet names, mpreg joke, mdni!!!

⇾ MAIN MASTERLIST | STRAY KIDS MASTERLIST ♡

⇾ finally did this with changbin!!! i hope you guys enjoyed <3 lmk what u wanna see next 💌💌 im also planning to post seungmins bf texts next so stay tuned <333

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minnimstar · 2 months ago

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°Forgotten Anniversary°

pairing: Seo Changbin x reader

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: swearing(once), a little arguing, pet names(hon, honey, baby)

summary: It was a busy time for him and the guys, as their schedules were pretty much overflowing. In the midst of that though, your boyfriend forgot your anniversary. You tried to not care, but deep down you were hurt. Thankfully, he noticed and did his best to make things right.

Masterlist

Changbin had left for the studio early in the morning, yet again. It was what you were used to though, since he was a busy man.

It was your anniversary today, however. You spent the day cleaning up and wrapping the gifts you had gotten him, and spent the evening cooking his favorite dish. Everything was going perfectly so far, until it wasn't.

The table was set up nicely, a plate of food for each of you resting on the table in front of the seats with a glass of wine and a candle lit in the center of the table, along with the lights dimmed.

You sat down on one end, and checked your phone for the time.

6:52

Changbin should've been home about 20 minutes ago, but you figured he was just running late so you left it for now.

So, you waited, and waited, and waited, until you got a notification on your phone.

[ binnie💪💚 ]: hey hon. I think I'm just going to stay at the studio tonight with the guys. We've got a lot to do and only a couple weeks to finish

[ binnie💪💚 ]: is that alright with you?

You stared at your phone and read over the message a few times, and felt your heart sink to your stomach.

With a deep breath, you typed out your message then set it down on the table and stared at the food that you had prepared earlier. It was no doubt cold now.

[ You ]: Yeah, of course.. see you tomorrow.

Standing up, you blew out the candle then shut the lights off completely before heading straight to your room and going to bed for the night.

Changbin arrived later that morning, taking his shoes off by the door before walking further into the house.

"Hey, baby! I'm-"

He stopped short when he walked past the kitchen, seeing the set up table and full plates of food sitting there.

"..home. Shit."

It was in that moment that Changbin had realized his mistake, and just how badly he had messed up. Quickly, he turned around and made his way to the bedroom where he found you laying, your back turned towards the door.

He walked up to the bed and let out a shaky breath when seeing that you were awake, and that your eyes were red and puffy, most likely from crying.

Hesitantly, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently turned you over to face him before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Honey, I'm so, so sorry. I've been so busy lately and it just slipped out of my mind that it was our anniversary. Please, let me-"

"It's fine." You interrupted, your voice hoarse from lack of use and crying.

"No, it's not. Baby, please, just-"

"I said it was fine, Changbin. I get it." You interrupted, again.

Changbin let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to figure out what to say. You were stubborn, and he knew just words weren't enough to make up for what he had done.

"Just let me make it up to you, please?" He tried again.

"Don't bother. I said it was fine."

You turned back around on the bed, your back facing Changbin.

He reluctantly stood up and left the room, then began to do what he could to make it up to you.

He started by cleaning up around the apartment, but paused once he saw the gifts that you had wrapped so neatly for him sitting on the counter. It made his heart hurt, and yet another reminder of what he had done.

He quickly finished up, then went out to get some things from the store.

You had ended up falling asleep, but once you woke up you were greeted by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

Confused, you got out of bed and walked towards the kitchen, and froze upon seeing how clean everything was and your boyfriend standing at counter preparing some food while meat simmered on a pan on the stove top.

"What are you-"

Changbin jumped in surprise, as he didn't hear you enter the kitchen, and he quickly turned around to face you.

"I didn't hear you come in..!"

You looked from Changbin to the stove, then to the clock and the food, and then looked back up at him.

"What are you doing?" You asked again.

"Oh, I'm.. I'm making you dinner. I know it's not much, but I want to atleast try to make it up to you. Look, I even got you something!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box then handed it over to you.

You eyed the box suspiciously and slowly took it, but before you could question it further he cut in.

"Open it."

You obliged and slowly took the lid off, then pulled out what was inside with a soft gasp. It was a necklace you had been eyeing for months, but could never bring yourself to buy due to how expensive it was.

"Again, I know it isn't much, but-"

"Oh, it's beautiful.. Thank you, baby."

You carefully set it down before taking a step towards him, then pulled him into a hug.

Changbin let out a sigh of relief, and he quickly returned the hug and held you close.

After a moment the two of you pulled away, and you took a moment to really look at the food.

"You got Minho to help, didn't you?" You questioned.

"Oh, yeah, 100%." He confirmed.

You let out a soft laugh, and Changbin felt so relieved at seeing you happy again.

He finished up cooking dinner while you sat at the table, and carefully placed a plate of steaming hot food in front of you before placing his own in front of his seat.

"Would you like me to put your necklace on for you?" He offered.

"Oh, yes. Thank you.."

Changbin grabbed the necklace before stepping behind you, and he carefully clasped it around your neck before sitting down himself.

"It looks stunning on you." He complimented softly with a smile.

You returned the smile, and reached out to hold his hand before the both of you began to eat.

While it wasn't your preferred choice, you appreciated the effort Changbin had made into making it up to you. He genuinely felt bad, and you couldn't stay mad at him for long. Especially not with how he did his best to make you feel better, aswell as how busy he had been recently.

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linoxpudding · 2 months ago

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Morning Cuddles - Seo Changbin

*gif credit goes to owner*

summary: sunday morning at seo household, changbin is whipped for his girls

pairing: seo changbin x reader

genre: fluff, domestic, married couple

word count: 624 words

a/n: this writing was inspired by this request ♡ changbin is so husband *sighs dreamily*

more binnie cuddles: read here

morning cuddles series:

Chan Lee Know Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin I.N

Masterlist

~°~

It’s one of those slow, perfect Sundays—the kind where there’s no rush to be anywhere, no alarms, just the peaceful comfort of being home.

You wake up to soft babbling sounds, the sweetest melody to your ears. Blinking the sleep away, you turn over to see your baby girl sitting up between you and Changbin, her tiny hands patting her daddy’s cheek repeatedly in an attempt to wake him.

“Dada,” she says in her sleepy little voice, pressing her chubby fingers into his face. “Dada, up.”

You chuckle, gently brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I don’t think Daddy’s ready to wake up yet, sweetheart.”

Changbin, however, cracks one eye open, groaning dramatically. “Dada is very tired,” he mumbles, reaching out to blindly pull both you and your daughter into his arms. “Dada needs five more minutes…”

Your daughter, however, has other plans. She wiggles her way onto his chest, squealing as she bounces a little. “Noooo, up!”

Changbin finally gives in, opening both eyes and smiling lazily. “Aish, how can I say no to my little princess?” He scoops her up and peppers kisses all over her chubby cheeks, making her giggle uncontrollably.

You watch them with pure adoration, propping yourself up on one elbow. “She’s got you wrapped around her tiny little finger, you know that?”

Changbin grins at you, reaching out to pull you closer. “Of course. Just like her mama does.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours.

The three of you stay tangled in each other’s warmth, your daughter now snuggled between you, sucking on her tiny fingers as she slowly drifts back to sleep. Changbin gently rubs her back, his voice a quiet whisper. “She’s perfect.”

Changbin’s hand moves from your daughter to yours, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek before intertwining with yours. His grip is firm but gentle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand.

“You know…” he begins quietly, his voice thick with emotion, “I don’t think I say it enough, but… thank you.”

You blink at him, tilting your head slightly. “For what?”

His fingers tighten around yours just a little as he looks at you with nothing but pure adoration. “For being the mother of my child. For giving me our little girl. For… everything.”

Your heart swells at his words, warmth spreading through your chest like a soft embrace. You squeeze his hand back, your own eyes growing a little misty. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Binnie.”

“I do,” he insists gently, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips to press a lingering kiss against your knuckles. “You’re amazing. She’s lucky to have you as her mom. And I’m lucky to have you as my wife.”

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but before you can say anything, your daughter's small fingers reach for your joined hands, clumsily placing her own on top as if she wants to be included.

Changbin chuckles softly. “See? She agrees.”

You laugh, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips before placing another on your daughter’s forehead. “I love you both so much,” you whisper, voice full of emotion.

Changbin tugs you in closer, wrapping an arm around you both as he buries his face into your hair. “And we love you,” he murmurs. “So, so much.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “We’re pretty lucky, huh?”

He hums in agreement, wrapping his arms around both of you protectively. “More than lucky. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

The three of you stay like that—tangled together, hands intertwined, hearts beating as one. And in that moment, you know: This is happiness. This is home.

#stray kids #skz x reader #skz au #skz fake texts #changbin skz #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #seo changbin #seo changbin x reader #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #changbin fanfic #changbin x you #changbin au #changbin imagines #dwaekki

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4linos · 3 months ago

Text

they call you clingy pt. 2

ot8 x fem!reader

genre: slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. (mostly) happy endings.

wc: 8916

(read they call you clingy pt. 1 first)

bang chan

When Chan returned home later that night, he was overwhelmed with guilt. He expected to be greeted with a warm embrace, maybe even a soft joke about how awkward he had been earlier. But when he entered your shared bedroom, he was greeted with silence. The lights were dark, and you sat on the edge of the bed, back to him. "Y/N?" He called out quietly, almost pleading.

You did not respond.

Chan's heart fell as he got closer, but you flinched when you felt him behind you. He stood there for a while, unsure of what to do, before finally speaking, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. It was a terrible joke. Please… please look at me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to see the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes were red and swollen, and your expression was tight, like you were holding everything in. The sight broke him, and he stepped forward, kneeling in front of you, trying to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was frustrated, and I let it all out in the worst way. I’m so sorry, I should’ve never said that. You’re not clingy. I don’t think that at all. I was wrong. I never should’ve made you feel that way.”

You shook your head slowly, your voice cold. “No, you meant it. I heard the way you said it. You don’t want me around. You think I’m suffocating you.”

“I don’t,” Chan whispered urgently, his hands reaching out to touch yours, but you pulled them away. “I don’t think that. I swear. I don’t want you to think that at all. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to believe him, but the words still stung too much. The way he had looked at you with indifference, how he dismissed your presence like it was something burdensome. It wasn’t just the words it was the way it made you feel so small, like you weren’t wanted.

You stood up suddenly, avoiding his touch. “I just need some space, Chan. Please. Just leave me alone tonight.”

Chan flinched, but he didn’t argue. He nodded, his heart breaking as he quietly walked out of the room. He knew he had crossed a line, and the weight of that reality hit him hard. He didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning on the couch, feeling the distance between you both like a wall that couldn’t be scaled.

The next morning, Chan woke up early, with his mind still filled with guilt. He'd apologized the night before, but he knew it wasn't enough. He needed to express how sorry he was and how much he cared. He crept quietly into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast, hoping to get it right for once. When the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the apartment, he returned to your bedroom, gently knocked on the door before opening it slightly.

You sat on the side of the bed, looking out the window. Your back was still turned to him, but when you heard him enter, you had stayed still.

Chan took a deep breath, his voice soft. “I made breakfast… for us. Please, can we just eat together? I want to talk.”

You didn't say anything at first, but eventually nodded and stood up, following him into the kitchen. You both sat silently, the tension hanging between you like a cloud. Chan pushed the dish of pancakes toward you, his hands shaking slightly. He took a breath and spoke again, his voice full of earnestness.

"You were not clinging, Y/N. I was wrong. You aren't suffocating me. I adore having you around; I always do. I… I'm not sure why I said that. My frustration clouded my judgment, and I hurt you. I'm really sorry."

You didn’t answer right away, but the tightness in your chest slowly loosened. You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

You sighed softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “It just hurt, Chan. I… I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re never a burden,” he said quietly. “You’re my partner. I want you to be with me. Always. You nodded, the words finally sinking in. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “No, I deserve it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you both ate in silence, the unspoken understanding between you filling the room with a quiet comfort. The hurt was still there, but you knew you could heal it together.

lee know

The warmth from the burns on your leg persisted, but the coldness in your chest stung the most. You sat on the edge of the bed, carefully placing a cold compress against your skin, hoping that the discomfort sting would ease.

Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what had just transpired in the kitchen. Minho, your Minho, had yelled at you, and the words cut worse than anything physical could. You couldn't understand how it had come to this.

You had tried so hard to help, to lighten his burden, but instead you had made matters worse. The kitchen was a wreck, your leg was on fire, and your heart felt like it had been ripped open by the very person who had always made you feel safe. You wanted to believe it was just a moment of frustration, something that could be forgiven, but the distance between you both felt insurmountable.

When Minho’s voice called from the living room, it felt like the world’s weight pressed on your chest. “Hey... can we talk?" He sounded tired, but there was an undertone of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen.

You didn’t respond, hoping the silence would send the message you weren’t ready to face him just yet. But moments later, the sound of his footsteps in the hall brought you back to reality, and before you could register, he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

His expression shifted from confusion to panic when he saw you sitting there, the cold compress against your leg, and your tear-streaked face. His eyes widened, a rush of guilt flooding over him.

"What... what happened?" His voice was quieter and more uncertain now. He took a step forward, peering down at the reddening skin on your leg. "I—oh God, did you burn yourself?" His eyes scanned yours for a response, his hand quivering slightly as he reached out to touch your leg. You didn't say anything. You couldn’t find the words. The burn hurt badly, but the heaviness of his words in the kitchen made it intolerable.

Minho's hands shook as he gently led you to lie down on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice cracked slightly as he rubbed a cool cloth on the burns, the chill alleviating the sting slightly.

You finally let yourself to cry, tears rocking your chest and the emotional weight coming down on you. You didn't understand how much you were holding back until the tears started pouring freely. "I-I'm sorry for the soup," you said through sobbing. "I didn't mean to ruin everything. "I just... wanted to help."

Minho's face softened, expressing regret and disbelief. He wiped your tears away with his thumb, his voice barely audible. "Stop. I don't care about the soup. Not when you're hurt. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

His words felt like a balm to your wounded heart, but they didn’t erase the ache. You buried your face in his chest as he leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You don’t deserve that... you never deserve that.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten even more. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, needing his warmth, his presence. “Minho... I just—everything went wrong today. And then you... you made me feel like I was a burden.” Your voice trembled, and the weight of your emotions finally broke free.

Minho’s arms tightened around you as he whispered into your hair, “I never meant to make you feel that way. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. But you are not a burden. You never will be. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You could feel his hands softly comb through your hair, comforting you as you kept crying into him. The tears weren't simply over the soup, the burn, or the day's failures. It was all about trying to keep things together, to be strong, and not show how overwhelmed you were. And everything came tumbling down in his arms. "I should have been there for you today." "I should have seen how much you were struggling," Minho said, his voice thick with regret. "I'm not upset at you. I should never have said that. I'm so sorry."

You nodded into his chest, the tears slowly subsiding as his comforting words washed over you. Despite everything, despite the mess and the hurt, there was still love between you two, even if it was lost in the chaos for a moment.

“I love you,” Minho whispered, his hand gently wiping away the last of your tears. “Please, forgive me.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. There was nothing but tenderness there now, no trace of the frustration that had clouded his expression before. “I love you too,” you said, your voice still shaky, but steadying. “I know you didn’t mean it. I just... I just had such a bad day. Everything went wrong, and I was just trying to fix it... and I ended up making it worse.”

Minho kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Let me help you.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief settle over you as his arms wrapped around you again. “I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, hugging him tighter. “I just... I wanted to help you. To make it better. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“I know,” Minho whispered back. “And you didn’t make it worse. I promise.”

As the silence between you two grew, the storm within you began to calm. It wasn't entirely mended yet, but for the first time that day, you felt like you weren't going through it alone. You felt at ease in his embrace, and you gradually began to hope that things can get better again.

changbin

Changbin's breath came out in weak, raspy gasps as he stood there watching you walk away. Every instinct in his body shouted for him to go after you, to draw you back and explain himself, but something in the air held him still. The severity of his own words resonated in his thoughts, a jarring reminder of the damage he had just done. You were hurt. And now, so was he.

He watched as your form disappeared through the exit, the door closing softly behind you. The gym suddenly felt suffocating. The weight of his own anger and frustration, which he had not yet fully comprehended, seemed to settle in his chest like a stone. He turned over, and his face flushed, his head dizzy with regret. He never wanted to make you feel like this, never wanted you to feel like a burden. His mind was spinning with confusion, but one thing was painfully clear: he had messed up. Badly.

He stood there for a long time, eyes fixed on the door, as if begging you to return, but he knew it was pointless. He had said too much. The damage was done.

You'd never felt smaller than you did at that time. Changbin's words felt like a hefty blow to the chest, knocking the air out of you. You weren't expecting him to snap. Sure, he'd been distant before, but this was different. The sharpness in his voice, the way he stared at you with irritation and anger, hurt in ways you couldn't articulate.

You didn’t know how long you had been walking for when you found yourself in the parking lot, your car now looming in front of you like a silent reminder of what had just transpired. You stood there for a moment, your hands trembling as you fumbled to unlock the door. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the chill in your chest felt much worse.

Why was he so angry?

You understood that sometimes people needed space, but you had no idea that your presence, which you expected to bring you closer, would make him feel overwhelmed. The realization hit you hard: He had been letting you to follow him about because he didn't know how to express his need for space. And, in the end, when he exploded, it broke the fragile link you had formed with him.

Your eyes stung with the promise of tears, but you pushed them away. You weren't sure if you were ready to let them fall yet.

You got in the car and drove aimlessly at first, wanting to get away and clear your mind. The drive seemed to go on forever, but you couldn't escape the agony in your chest. You eventually pulled over onto a quiet street and parked. You allowed the silence to settle in, the only sound being the faint hum of your car's engine.

Your phone buzzed, and you looked at it nervously. It was a message from Changbin. Your finger hovered over the screen, unsure whether to open it or not. But the yearning for an explanation, some attempt to make sense of it all, was overwhelming. So you opened it.

Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. Can we please talk?

You bit your lip, your eyes scanning the words over and over. His apology felt sincere, but it didn’t erase the sting of what he had said. How could it? And yet, a part of you still wanted to hear him out, to understand where he was coming from, even if it hurt.

You debated texting him back. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to hold onto the distance you felt was needed right now. Another part wanted to reach out, to explain that you weren’t trying to smother him, that you just wanted to be close.

Instead of responding, you did the one thing you never thought you’d do: you called him.

The phone rang a few times before he answered. “Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost nervous.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Can we talk?”

A long silence passed. You could hear him take a deep breath on the other end. “Yeah. I think we need to.”

Back at the gym, Changbin had barely managed to collect himself before his phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw your name on the screen, he almost couldn’t believe it. He had messed up so badly, and yet, you were still willing to talk to him. His heart beat faster as he swiped to answer, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

“Y/N?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t imagining this.

“I… I’m still upset, Bin,” you said, your voice shaky. “I don’t know what to think. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was invading your space. I just… I wanted to be close to you.”

“I know,” he whispered, guilt flooding his chest. “I should’ve told you sooner. It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel like that… like I’m pushing you away. But I just… the gym was the one place where I could just be by myself, clear my head. And when I didn’t have that anymore… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you’d like it. That maybe it would be something we could do together.”

“I do like spending time with you,” he said, his voice steady now, more sincere. “I really do. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking it out on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry for how I said it. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “I just wanted to be close to you. I didn’t realize I was making you feel suffocated.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I know. And I should’ve communicated better. I just didn’t know how.”

“I understand,” you replied softly. “I just… I need a little time. To process this.”

Changbin’s heart sank, but he understood. “Yeah. I get that. Take the time you need. But please know I’m here. I don’t want to lose you over something that should’ve been a misunderstanding.”

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t fixed, not yet, but you could feel the tension easing a little, the sharp edges of the pain starting to soften.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I’m ready.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Changbin replied, his voice full of warmth despite the distance between you. “I’ll be here.”

The call ended, leaving a quiet, uneasy space between you two. You were unsure where this would lead or what would happen next. But perhaps, just maybe, you can find your way back together.

hyunjin

The next morning, you woke to a cloud of confusion still hanging over you. Hyunjin's remark from last night, as well as the way he pushed you away, played on an unending loop in your memory. The hurt was still fresh, but you were beginning to wonder why. Why had everything changed so dramatically? Why had Hyunjin, who you had always trusted, suddenly become distant?

You'd barely slept, your mind knotted in a web of despair, confusion, and betrayal. Everything seemed odd as you tried to get through the day. The calm hum of your daily routine had been replaced by a heavy silence in your chest. Your phone remained silent, and you weren't sure if that was a relief or something else entirely. You couldn’t decide whether to hope Hyunjin would reach out to explain himself or whether it was better to just forget it all.

But then, in the late afternoon, your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Hyunjin: Can we talk? I need to explain.

Your stomach twisted, both nervous and cautious. You stared at the message, weighing the possibility of opening the door to this conversation. You didn’t know if you were ready to hear whatever he had to say. Still, part of you needed answers, even if they were painful.

After a few moments of hesitation, you typed back.

You: Where?

Hyunjin: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Please.

You took a deep breath and, despite everything, found yourself getting ready to meet him. Part of you was angry, but there was another part, the part that still missed him, that needed to understand. You had always believed in the strength of your friendship. You didn’t want to just throw that away without knowing what had really happened.

When you arrived at the park, the air felt cool against your skin, and the trees around you swayed gently in the breeze. The park was quiet, mostly empty, with only a few scattered joggers. You found him near a bench, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense. He stood as soon as he saw you, but neither of you moved closer at first. There was an awkwardness between you two that felt thick enough to cut.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice almost faltering. "You wanted to talk?"

He nodded but didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, staring at you as if he wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low and unsure. "I know I hurt you last night, and I—I need you to know that wasn’t my intention. I’ve been… I’ve been a mess, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.”

You furrowed your brows, the confusion growing. “Feelings? What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin seemed to hesitate, as if he was unsure whether to voice the words out. But after a moment, he added, his voice breaking slightly: "I—I like you. More than just a friend. I had for a while, but I wasn't sure how to deal with it. So I tried pushing you away. I figured if I detached myself from you, it would go away. That I could let go of these feelings."

The words struck you like a thunderclap. For a while, you just stood there, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of what he had just revealed. Hyunjin... liked you? Was it why he had been so distant? All the time you'd spent wondering what had changed, what had gone wrong… it was this?

He looked at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, guilt, and something else that you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I thought… if I pushed you away, I could just forget. But the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. And last night, I just… I didn’t know how to act around you anymore. So I lashed out. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stood there, silently absorbing his words. The knot in your chest relaxed, but it was replaced by something else: a rush of feelings you couldn't quite describe.

You had no idea how to handle this revelation. You had been wondering what had happened to your friendship, why things seemed so tense, and now it all made sense. But it was overwhelming. You never saw it coming.

"I don't know what to say," you confessed gently. "I did not..." I didn't realize you felt that way. All I saw was you slipping away, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. I didn't realize it was about this."

“I should have told you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I was so afraid of ruining everything, of losing our friendship. But instead, I ended up pushing you away. I thought if I could stop being close to you, I could stop feeling this way. I was wrong."

You felt a mixture of emotions rise up relief, anger, sadness, confusion. But beneath it all, there was something else: you understood now. He had been trying to protect himself, even if it meant hurting you in the process. It didn’t make his actions right, but it made them a little easier to comprehend.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

Hyunjin took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were immediately. I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to try. I want to be honest with you now. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I couldn’t let you think you didn’t matter."

You paused for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you still felt hurt, but another part of you your heart, maybe was softening. You had always cared about him. The idea of more than just friendship… it was a lot to process, but you realized that in some way, you were willing to listen, to figure out what this meant for the two of you.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t care. I do. I care a lot. We just need time. To figure this out.”

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet hope. “I’ll give you time. I won’t push you. I just needed to say it. To be honest.”

The two of you stood there for a while, neither of you moving, but there was a shift a change in the air. For the first time in weeks, it felt like there might be a way forward. Maybe it wasn’t simple, maybe it wasn’t easy, but at least you had the truth. And that, you realized, was enough to begin again.

HAN

The silence lingered for what seemed like hours, the kind of silence that enveloped you both like a thick cloud. You hadn't moved, still curled on the bed, eyes locked on the wall, as if it might give some answers. You couldn't get the idea that something inside of him had permanently shifted, that whatever had cracked tonight had been building up for a time and was now beyond your control.

Jisung said nothing, did not try to pull you closer, nor did he give his usual soothing words of regret. But he had not left either. His presence next to you, despite its normal comfort, suddenly felt like a distant recollection, a piece of him that had vanished.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard him shift on the bed beside you. His voice was barely a whisper, but you could tell he was struggling, his words thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the weight of the apology, like he had been holding it back for so long it had become a raw, painful thing.

You stayed silent, not sure what to say. He had hurt you, and though you wanted to forgive him, you couldn’t shake the sting of his words. His harshness had cut deeper than anything he’d said before, and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the day, or something more, something that had been building up between you two for a while.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N,” he continued, his voice shaky, as if the apology itself had become difficult to express. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I don’t know how to deal with everything. But that doesn’t excuse how I snapped at you. You don’t deserve that. You never do.”

You eventually allowed yourself to turn towards him, your gaze scanning his face, and you saw the weakness there, the same vulnerability you had always seen beneath his normal confidence. His fists were clasped in his lap, and his shoulders bowed, as if he were bracing for the impending storm.

"You are not a burden, Y/N." "You're not clingy," he continued quietly, his voice much lower now, as if the apology was gradually peeling away the layers of irritation and hurt. "I just.. I'm not always sure how to let you in. I am so overwhelmed that instead of accepting your help, I push you away."

Your heart squeezed. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was battling with himself, trying to figure out how to make it right without knowing how.

“I’ve been so used to dealing with everything on my own,” he continued, looking at the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I didn’t want you to see me as weak. But instead, I ended up hurting you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and it took everything in you not to reach out and wrap your arms around him. You knew he had been struggling, you knew it. But hearing him admit that he had been keeping things from you, afraid of showing his true self, only made the ache in your chest grow.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I think you're strong. But you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Jisung. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He shook his head, eventually meeting your eyes. His eyes were filled with sadness, but there was also a quiet desperation in them, as if he didn't know how to mend the rift between you two.

“I just... I'm so sorry. I don't know how to ask for help," he said, his voice full with sorrow. "But when you try to help me, I... I push you away because I'm not sure how to let you in. But you aren't a burden, Y/N. You have never been one. I just didn't know how to handle anything on my own, so I ended up pushing you away when all you wanted was to be there for me."

The honesty in his words was almost too much to bear. You had always known Jisung to be someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, someone who could make light of even the darkest situations. But now, seeing him like this, so raw and open, made your chest tighten.

“I don’t want you to push me away anymore,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help you. But I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”

Jisung's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he simply nodded, the impact of his quiet screaming loudly. He didn't need to say anything else because you could feel the pain in his chest and all the frustration he'd been carrying around for too long.

For a long time, the two of you merely sat there, your quiet now distinct. It wasn't the crushing stillness of earlier, but one filled with empathy, even if neither of you understood exactly how to mend anything.

After a while, Jisung reached out, his hand hesitating before softly stroking your arm. The warmth of his fingers across your skin brought back memories of how simple things had been between you two. He didn't say anything unnecessary, but you could sense his apology in the way he held his hand there, letting you know he was sincerely sorry.

"I'll try to do better," he answered simply and softly. "I will try to let you in more. I do not want to push you away anymore."

You nodded, your heart still heavy but not as broken as it had been moments ago. “I just want to be there for you, Jisung,” you said softly. “I don’t want you to have to go through everything alone.”

The quiet stretched again, but this time, it felt different. It felt like a beginning. Neither of you knew how to fix everything right away, but you both knew that you wanted to try. And sometimes, that was enough.

Jisung shifted closer, his hand still resting on your arm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so distant from each other. There were still things left unsaid, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to try again.

felix

The hours passed by in agonizing silence, the kind that made everything seem more impossible than it actually was and stretched and clawed at your thoughts. Nothing could take away the icy emptiness that had descended between you and Felix, even as you lay there, wrapped up inside yourself, listening to the gentle buzz of the night.

When the world got too much, he would wrap up with you and reassure you with soft touches and quiet words. You recalled the warmth you had previously enjoyed. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago. His distance was more than just physical; it was something that made your chest hurt since you didn't know how to make it better.

But as much as you wanted to lie there, to let the hurt consume you, you couldn't. You couldn't just wait and wonder if things would somehow improve on their own. You were the kind of person who needed closure, who needed to understand what was happening. And right now, Felix was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

You sat up, wiping at your tear-streaked face, and glanced towards the living room. The faint glow from the TV still flickered through the hallway, casting a cold light on the darkness of the apartment. You could feel the weight of the choice pressing down on you: Should you leave him be, give him the space he seemed to want, or should you push through, confront him, and demand answers?

You hesitated for quite some time. But then you made a decision. You needed answers. You needed to understand why the person you loved had abruptly shifted into someone you didn't recognize. You moved along the hallway, the apartment's silence more oppressive than before.

Felix kept his position on the couch, his eyes looking blankly at the TV, his posture tight and walled off. You stayed there for a moment, studying him, trying to determine whether he noticed your presence.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen. His face remained unreadable.

"Felix," you said again, your voice steady but laced with emotion. This time, there was no hesitation in your tone, no softness. You needed him to hear you.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the tension in the room shift slightly, as if he knew you were waiting for him to say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter than before.

“I told you I don’t want to talk,” he said, almost in a whisper. But this time, the words weren’t as sharp. There was something else in his voice, something you hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t anger, but a deep exhaustion, a weariness that seemed to go beyond just physical fatigue.

You didn’t take a step back this time. Instead, you closed the distance between you, sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand brushing lightly against his. It was small, a gesture that once would have meant nothing, but now it felt like everything. You needed him to know you were still here, that you hadn’t given up.

“Felix,” you repeated, softer this time, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “I know something’s bothering you. And I get it. You don’t have to talk right now, if you’re not ready. But I need to know—am I the problem?”

When you asked the question, his head snapped towards you, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he had never considered it before. For a brief moment, his gaze softened, and you thought you caught a glimpse of the old Felix, the one who used to share everything with you, the one who would always turn to you when the world got too much.

"Of course not," he said gently, his voice husky. He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his palms before running them through his hair. "You aren't the problem. "I just...I’m a mess right now, okay? I did not mean to push you away. I didn't know how to deal with it, and I thought if I could draw back, maybe it would get better.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in what felt like days, you understood. Felix had always been the strong one, the person who seemed so capable of handling everything on his own. But now you saw how much he was struggling beneath the surface, how much he had been hiding.

"You don’t have to carry it all alone," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Felix, we’ve always been a team. You can lean on me. You don’t have to push me away just because you’re having a hard time."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze flickering to the floor, then back up to you. The tension in his shoulders finally seemed to ease, and he let out a long breath. It was as though a weight was slowly lifting, and for the first time in days, you saw a glimpse of the Felix you had known and loved.

“I’m scared,” he admitted softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m scared of being a burden. I’m scared that if I show you how much I’m struggling, you’ll leave. I’m scared you won’t love me if I’m not always the one who has everything together.”

The rawness of his confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just sat there, your heart aching for him. You had always known Felix to be strong, but in this moment, you realized just how vulnerable he was beneath it all, and how much he had been carrying alone.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Felix,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I love you, all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Felix finally looked at you, his eyes wide, his expression almost disbelieving. The walls that had been built up around him seemed to crack ever so slightly, and you could see the relief in his eyes. He swallowed hard, then reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his grip tightening around your fingers. “I’ve been pushing you away for no reason. I was just so scared.”

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Felix. You don’t have to be scared. We’ll get through this together.”

For a minute, you just stood there, the two of you having an unsaid understanding. There was still a lot to sort out, and the path ahead would be difficult, but you knew that if you were both ready to try, you could do it.

As Felix drew in closer, resting his forehead against yours, you felt the warmth of his presence return, as well as the relief that you hadn't lost him despite everything. Not yet.

And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that things could be better.

seungmin

The morning light filtered softly through the kitchen windows, casting a dull glow over the room. Seungmin walked in, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his mind still half-occupied by the rehearsals and everything waiting for him outside the walls of this apartment. But as he sat down at the breakfast table, he was immediately hit with an unexpected shift in the air.

There was no cheerful greeting from you, no attempt to share a quiet moment together before the day began. Instead, you sat across from him, silently eating your breakfast, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. Usually, you’d be making something small, even if it was just a quick toast or coffee, a gesture that made mornings feel connected. But today, the stillness felt suffocating.

Seungmin frowned, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t quite understand why you weren’t speaking, but he knew something wasn’t right. He set his cup down, meeting your eyes for the briefest of moments before his voice broke through the quiet.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone a bit strained, not sure if he was even ready to hear the answer.

You did not respond immediately away, keeping your gaze fixed on your food and your jaw tight as if the words you wanted to say were locked between your teeth. But they didn't come, and your silence spoke louder than any argument. Seungmin waited, his patience dwindling as time passed.

Finally, you scoffed, making a little but harsh sound that seemed to cut through the air, and you stood up from the table, pushing your chair back with an audible scrape.

"I don’t know, Seungmin," you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration, barely holding back the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I don’t matter to you."

He blinked, taken aback by the intensity of your words. Before he could respond, you stormed off, the door to the bedroom slamming shut behind you with a force that rattled the still air. Seungmin sat there, the taste of the bitter coffee suddenly unfamiliar in his mouth, his mind spinning. He hadn’t expected this. Not after everything that had happened last night.

The rest of the day felt like a blur. He went through the motions work, meetings, rehearsals but your words lingered in his mind, a constant hum of unease. By the time he returned home that evening, the tension was unbearable. He hesitated by the front door, unsure of what to expect. Normally, he would have found you sitting on the couch, or you would have greeted him with a small smile, asking about his day. But tonight, there was only silence.

He walked into the apartment, his footsteps faltering slightly as he noticed you in the corner of the living room, avoiding his gaze completely. You sat curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the television but not really seeing anything at all. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you, and the hollow feeling in his chest deepened.

"Can we talk?" he asked carefully, his voice laced with concern. His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were ready to listen.

You didn't respond immediately, your body rigid and remote. His heart fell as he saw the look on your face, as if a part of you had closed off, trapped behind a door he couldn't open. "Please," he said, getting closer. "I don't know what's going on, but..." "I can't fix this unless you tell me."

You snapped your head up, your eyes burning with a mix of pain and frustration. Your voice was more emotional than usual. "You don't get it, do you, Seungmin?" You stood up abruptly, raising your voice with each word. "I have tried. I've been trying for days to get you to come see me and realize that something is wrong! But all you have done is brush me off, make me feel like I’m too much for you, like I’m just… clingy."

His eyes widened in realization, the words you had uttered earlier in the morning returning to him with a crushing force. He had no idea it had gotten this bad, nor did he realize how much his words had hurt you until now. And it stung when the weight of his own stupidity fell on him. You carried on, your voice cracking as you talked.

"You've been really distant, Seungmin. And when I try to talk to you or look for your attention, you just push me away. You make me feel as though I am a burden. And I can't keep pretending that I don't feel it.”

Seungmin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there, completely stunned, his chest tightening with regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress and exhaustion, so focused on his own battles, that he hadn’t realized how far apart you had grown, how much pain you had been quietly carrying.

He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice small now, barely a whisper. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I… I didn’t realize how much my actions were hurting you."

But your anger had already started to bubble back up. You shook your head, arms crossed tightly against your chest. "How could you not realize, Seungmin? How could you not see how much I’m struggling with this? I needed you, but you’ve been so… so cold." You paused, your breath shallow. "I needed you to care. To see me."

The words stung like salt in an open wound, but Seungmin couldn’t deny the truth in them. His heart clenched, and without thinking, he moved toward you, pulling you into his arms before you could step away.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible, or like you were too much. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I forgot to see you, to notice what I was doing to us." He held you tighter, his grip desperate now, like he was trying to hold onto something he feared was slipping away. "Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you."

Your body trembled against him, but for the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t pull away. You rested your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath, your emotions swirling but slowly softening under his touch.

"I just need you to be present, Seungmin," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. "I need to know that you’re here with me. That I matter to you."

"I hear you," he whispered softly, gently touching your face and lifting your head to meet his gaze. His embrace was raw and vulnerable in a way you had not seen before. "I hear you, and I promise to do better." I will make you feel seen. I will make sure you understand how much you mean to me."

You nodded softly, your heart aching but glad for his genuine remarks. The path to healing would take time, but for the first time in a long time, you felt confident that he would accompany you on it.

I.N

The next day, Jeongin arrived at your apartment, his normal bright smile on his face as he walked through the door. It was as if yesterday had never happened. His aura was light and carefree, as if he hadn't just disrupted the peace you had previously enjoyed in your relationship.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from his cold demeanor the night before. The hurt persisted, and you couldn't shake the weight of his words. Stop being so clingy. It wasn't the first time someone had made you feel small, but it hurt more than you expected, especially coming from him.

You didn't answer as usual, and you didn't greet him with the warmth he had grown to expect. Instead, you kept your distance by giving him short, clipped answers. You preoccupied yourself with little things in the apartment, refusing to make eye contact in the hopes that the stillness would bridge the gap between you. The tension in the room, however, was palpable.

Jeongin didn't seem to notice right away. He went about his usual business, jokingly discussing his day and laughing as if everything was alright. When he reached for your hand, you automatically pushed it away, indicating that something was wrong. His smile faltered, and the warmth in his eyes was gradually replaced by confusion.

"Hey," he said, voice soft, the smile still not fully gone but now laced with a hint of concern. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at him, saw the real confusion in his eyes, and almost let it go. Almost let go of your pain for his smile, for the Jeongin you adored. But the words you'd been keeping in all day sprang to the surface. "What was that yesterday?" You snapped, your voice filled with emotion. The anger, hurt, and confusion you'd been harboring all night had finally bubbled over. "You were an entirely different person. One minute you were fine the next you were pushing me away, telling me I was too clingy. What was that?"

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your strong tone, his eyes wide as if he had not expected such an outburst. His posture tensed, and for a brief period, you could see the walls he had built to protect himself from whatever discomfort was brewing inside. But that didn't erase the fact that his actions had harmed you more than he knew.

"If you want to act like that, maybe we should just break up," you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, a mix of hurt and frustration in your voice. "I don't want to be with someone who suddenly treats me like I'm a burden just because they're worried about what others think.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jeongin’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as if the idea of you breaking up was the last thing he expected. His eyes softened slightly, and his voice became almost breathless as he spoke, not quite believing what you’d just said.

“Wait… what?” His voice wavered, the hurt in his eyes clear now. "No, no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You crossed your arms, feeling the burn of frustration building again. You needed answers. “Then what was it, Jeongin? Why did you act like that? I thought we were fine, but now… now I don’t know where I stand with you.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands running through his hair as he paced for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. After a beat of silence, he stopped in front of you, meeting your eyes, this time with a vulnerability that was both unexpected and painfully familiar.

“I… I love you," he began, his voice steady but filled with an edge of fear. "I love you so much, but I was afraid… I was afraid that if we showed too much PDA, the members would tease me relentlessly. They’re always joking about stuff like that, and I didn’t want them to make fun of me, of us."

The explanation hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Was this actually the reason? Was he so concerned about what his members thought that he distanced himself from you, his girlfriend, in front of them? You struggled to wrap your head around it.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" The question fell out of your mouth before you could think. The thought of it twisted something inside you, the possibility that he might consider you as something to hide rather than something to be proud of.

Jeongin’s face immediately morphed into one of panic, as if the very suggestion cut him deeper than anything you could have said. “No! God, no. I would never—” He stepped forward, his hands reaching for you, but you instinctively took a small step back. He stopped, his hands falling to his sides, the hurt in his eyes obvious now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession hanging between you two. "I never meant for you to feel like that. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want the members to think I was soft or that I couldn’t keep my cool. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry for pushing you away, for making you feel like I didn’t care about you."

His words were a mix of regret and sincerity, and as he spoke, you could feel the depth of his struggle, the dread of being judged and ridiculed that kept him from completely being himself with you. It wasn't that he didn't love you; it was just that he hadn't understood how to balance his feelings with the demands of his life.

You stood there, silent for a moment, contemplating what he had just said. Your heart was still raw, but you could see remorse in his eyes and feel it in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for you to decide what to do next.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than before, but the hurt remained beneath the surface. "I don't care what others say, Jeongin. I care about us. I want to be able to express my love for you without having to worry about what others might say."

He nodded quickly, his stare focused, and took a slight step toward you. "I promise I won't do it again. I will never make you feel that you are too much, or that I am embarrassed by you. You are more than just someone I care about; you are someone I am proud of. And I will do better. I will."

You held onto his gaze, seeing the honesty in his eyes and sensing the truth in his words. It was not a simple fix. There was work to be done and trust to be rebuilt, but you could tell right away that he was eager to give it his all.

"I just need you to be honest with me," you muttered, feeling the tension between you begin to ease. "That's all I want."

Jeongin's expression softened as he made one final step forward, closing the gap between you. His hands met yours, and his contact was warm and grounded. "I'm here. I'm actually here. And I will make sure you never feel that way again."

(❌ proofread)

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