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cheesiedomino · 11 months ago

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RentABoyfriend.com ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: you’re tired of being single so you to take an unusual route in helping with that— but what happens when you start catching real romantic feelings for your rental boyfriend?

genre: seo changbin x fem!reader | fake relationship/dating au wc: 5.1k tags/warnings: fluff, v minor angst, mild cursing, (kinda) nerdy changbin, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol usage, just overall very cute story dw <33

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“I have a date tomorrow guys.”

Everyone’s head instantly lifts up from their phones at this sudden announcement, collectively drawing their attention at you. You weren’t expecting all of them to gasp and swap such looks of genuine confusion. It’s starting to make you think maybe this situation was a lot more serious than you’ve bargained it out to be.

You couldn’t fathom it either honestly, the realization of you going out with someone probably won’t settle in until you’re physically on the date. Based on their initial responses though, you might regret everything you’re about to say, but it’s far too late to retract any of your statements now.

“No way.. with who??” Danielle is the first out of everyone to ask.

Taehyung chimes in as well, “Yeah, who’s the lucky person? They’ve gotta be something seriously special to be talking to you.”

Well, you suppose you could put it that way.

You already have a preconceived notion of what they’re going to think of this “idea”. Mentally preparing yourself to receive a flood of questions and critique from your close friends.

“Actually… I rented him. For the week.”

Now they’re all looking at you like you’ve officially lost it. The room got scarily quiet, no one wanted to be the first to speak. You should’ve anticipated on their reactions being like this, it isn’t everyday someone just openly admits to buying a partner online. Nowadays there’s a lucrative market for just about anything, when you stumbled upon an ad for this service called ‘RentABoyfriend.com’ you didn’t think much of it. You laughed the concept off at first, thinking how lonely people must be to buy someone else’s time.

But the ads kept popping up, they wouldn’t stop showing in almost every YouTube video you were watching— even one of your favorite YouTubers promoted them before! So one day you finally decided to check this website out, you wanted to see what the hype’s all about so you signed up just for shits and giggles. You weren’t expecting to actually be somewhat interested in trying this thing out, but after going through a couple different profiles and reading hundreds of positive reviews you were practically sold.

“You rented out a boyfriend..? Seriously ___? I mean, I’m not judging but you’re a gorgeous girl you can easily get a boyfriend without paying for someone’s companionship, I don’t see why you need to rent one.” Mark bluntly expressed his opinion, he was probably the most outspoken out of all of you guys.

Taehyung and Danielle both agreed in unison, it’s practically 3 against 1 at this point. You knew you should’ve waited to tell them but you weren’t anticipating on them being this judgmental about it. You were hoping for a little more support, as they’re all way more experienced than you in the dating scene and could lend some helpful advice about your first date, ever.

See, the thing is you’ve never tried dating before so you wouldn’t know the first thing about it or what to expect from your future partner. You’ve never had a boyfriend, let alone held hands or kissed someone of the opposite sex. Being in your twenties it’s kind of embarrassing to say you’ve never done those things, but you thought what better way to try it out than renting a full-on experience that can give you just that? Well minus the kissing part, but you can make it work.

You were skeptical of doing this whole ‘rent-a-boyfriend’ thing at first because you didn’t think there’d be anyone you’d find suitable enough. A big part of the reason that you’re still single is because you’re extremely picky, you want to date a guy who’s so perfect that he must’ve came straight out of an indie romance film. Your friends would tease you for having such unrealistic standards when it came to dating but you were the all-or-nothing type, you’ll be single with fifty cats before you settle for less. Renting a boyfriend is definitely an unconventional idea of easing into dating but you thought it might be worth a try anyway.

What’s the worse that could happen?

( 1 day earlier )

Hovering your cursor over the bold red text of the website, you read over the main rules before going on to select the person you want for your date.

‘The rules are simple:

You are allowed to see only ONE person at a time, if you want to switch boyfriends you’ll have to pay a $50 fee.

MUST be over 18 to rent a boyfriend, we have implemented an age verification system before the date as we do not tolerate anyone under this age to use our services.

NO kissing, or sexual intimacy allowed. If this is found out later on by our agency we will terminate your contract and ban you from using our services in the future.

Remember to have fun !! ^_^ Our services are great for people who are new to dating or have never been in a relationship. We provide the ~ultimate~ boyfriend experience to all our clients. Customer satisfaction is 100% guaranteed ! (NO REFUNDS)’

Well jeez… they seemed a bit strict but you can deal with those rules and restrictions for the most part.

After hours of skimming through hundreds of profiles, you have a hard time choosing which you like most. Did you want an artsy, shy kind of guy? The tattooed, bad boy aesthetic type? You really couldn’t pick one until you stumble upon a particular profile that catches your eye almost immediately.

SEO CHANGBIN | 168 CM | PART-TIME LIFEGUARD | 24 | *POPULAR ↝

5 Facts About Me: I’ve traveled to over 50+ different countries and counting (ask me which my favorites are), I can speak 4 languages (working on my fifth), love to sing and used to have a rap trio with my buddies from college, I can & will easily lift you up ;) also have a secret talent for cooking, there’s nothing I can’t do!

Why Choose Me? First of all, why not choose me? I’m the best candidate for whatever kind of date you need, something casual, social gatherings, weddings, you name it! I’m very social and can make most people laugh (unless they’re the literal Grinch reincarnated), I’m able to get along well with anyone and just love to have a good time. I hope we can get to know each other and make great memories in the future :)

Going through his pictures you couldn’t believe someone was capable of being this humanely attractive. Don’t even get started on those impeccable muscles either… He really had to sport them in every other one of his photos, wearing the tightest shirts to show the outline of his insanely sculpted frame. You might have just been mesmerized from his godlike visuals alone. They even had a Valentine’s Day deluxe package that comes with seven dates in total for half the price, which they specified was for a limited time only.

$600 later you’ve got a full week of dates lined up with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in all your years of living. You should’ve definitely went shopping before considering all this because now you actually have a reason to get dolled up for someone.

You were so nervous about going on this date you almost cancelled last minute out of fear. Typing out several different elaborate paragraphs to Changbin on why you couldn’t make it. You didn’t have his real phone number, it was all through an app facilitated by the rental company that was included in the package. Even though you were feeling overwhelmed and practically shaking with anxiety about meeting up with a guy, you still forced yourself to go anyway. You didn’t just dish out all that money just to not show up and waste his time on top of all that.

Your rental boyfriend texted you the location to meet at, it was near a train station so you both could see each other out in a public open space. The outfit you wore was fairly simple, a black mini skirt with warm tights underneath and a cropped turtleneck sweater. You accessorized the look with some dainty jewelry, a thin scarf, and knee high boots to pull everything together. It wasn’t something you usually wore but you had certain clothes you saved for a special occasion like this.

Upon your arrival, you notice him standing near a vending machine and waves over at you with the biggest smile plastered on his face. You awkwardly wave back, giving a soft smile as you slowly walk up to him. He looks even better in person, you don’t even feel adequate enough to be in such a gorgeous man’s presence. No wonder he’s so popular on the site, he’s practically unreal.

“Hi, you must be ___. It’s so nice to finally meet you, might I add you look really beautiful today, I think you’re making my heart race just by looking at you. Happy Valentine’s Day!” Changbin introduces himself, buttering you up with some sweet compliments before handing you the most insane bouquet of roses you’ve ever seen.

You take the flowers and almost stumble backwards from how heavy they were, “Wow, thank you!” Changbin prevents you from falling, quickly coming up behind you to get your balance back.

“Careful honey, can’t have you injured on our first date!” He voices with concern, “I hope you love the idea I came up with, I’ve only been to this place once before but I’m sure it’s still as fun as I remember it, let’s go!” Eagerly grabbing your hand to begin the journey, he turns around again to examine your body language.

“You seem a little tense babe? Do you need a massage?” He asks in a concerned tone again, this is all really beginning to freak you out. You know this is what you signed up for but this was all starting to feel a bit too personal, all the nicknames and sweet talk he’s giving is just something you aren’t used to.

“Uh, no! It’s o-okay.” You shook your head, denying anything suspicious going on. Truth be told you were barely able to contain your composure right now.

Changbin keeps on insisting, “The massage is included in the package so you don’t have to worry about getting charged extra.”

“N-no it’s okay, really. I’m just nervous that’s all, sorry I just don’t meet up with guys…” you shyly admit, finding it hard to look him in the eye.

He nods in understanding, “No need to be nervous with me sweetheart. I’m here to make you feel as comfortable as possible.” The smile he flashes at you instantly makes you warm on the inside, he seems like a genuine, caring person. You think things might go well for you after all.

The rest of the night was full of only good vibes and laughter by the end of it all. Changbin took you to an adult arcade that had old video games like Pac-Man, Super Mario, and Space Invaders, the other side was a bar where people could sit, drink, and socialize. He bought all your drinks that night, let you use up most of his tokens and overall had the most fun you could’ve ever had with someone. He was so easygoing but also knew when to act super caring and would be all lovey dovey with you. He was gentle, nurturing, and could have conversations about anything. You loved that he’d randomly drop some interesting fact you never knew about, or talked about a certain niche topic that he’d go on multiple rants over. It didn’t feel like you were renting someone out to date you, it felt natural— like you’ve known him for longer than a couple hours. Changbin walked you home and held your hand the entire time, along with the flowers he provided a teddy bear and a heart shaped box of chocolates. If that didn’t scream boyfriend goals then you don’t know what does.

The next day you wake up to Changbin blowing your phone up this morning. You had over 26 messages from him, which was pretty excessive in your humble opinion. The first thing he said was good morning then he goes on to express how fun yesterday was and he can’t wait to do it again. He even sent a couple mirror selfies of him at the gym, ‘conceited much?’ You thought. But then again, if you were Seo Changbin you’d probably be full of yourself too.

For today’s date you wore a pretty red sundress that made your skin glow in the sunlight. It’ll definitely get him to compliment you even more— which you secretly love when he does. Changbin calls you before he heads out to the date, letting you know how excited he is to see you again. You couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot on the train as you made your way to the destination, thinking about what he’s planned for you two next. This time you’ll be meeting up at a park but you still have no clue what you’re doing.

Changbin texts you where exactly he is in the park, it was pretty huge so it took you a while to get to him. As you get closer you see him sitting on a large blanket by the lake, on top of it were a bunch of different foods and snacks scattered all around that came out of a huge picnic basket. You were speed walking at this point trying to get to him. His arms opened out for a hug and you lean right into him, what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly stand up and lift you in his arms to swing around you like a doll.

“Put me down I’m scared of heights!” You squeal out in fear of being too high up in the air. Maybe you really should’ve taken the bio on his profile more seriously when he mentioned certain things.

Finally putting you down after minutes go by of you protesting, Changbin sits you back onto the blanket. He brought an assortment of breads, cheese, fruits, lemonade that he made himself and a couple seltzers. You’ve never seen anyone put such time and effort into a date before, even being here with him is like living in a daydream. He was definitely succeeding in making you feel comfortable, which is something you never thought was possible with men. He actually took his time getting to know you and didn’t sound arrogant whenever he talked about himself, Changbin was so different than other guys who’ve tried hitting on you in the past. He was actually respectful, intelligent, and could easily carry a conversation without long, awkward pauses.

He was literally everything you’re looking for in a guy. But you’ll be seeing him for this week only then it’s bye bye forever. That revelation makes you a little upset, but you try pushing those thoughts in the back of your mind. It’s irrelevant and unnecessary to think about. Yet you can’t help but wonder about certain things though, wanting to know more about his job and what it’s like on a daily basis for him.

“Can I ask you something? I need you to answer it honestly.” You say out of nowhere, hoping that didn’t come out as weird as you thought.

Changbin nods, “of course, shoot.”

“How many clients do you usually get?”

This question definitely catches him off guard, he’s never really been asked this before and he’s debating on if he should as it might be a breach of privacy.

“I don’t think I can answer that, sorry.” He responds in the nicest way possible, but deep down he wants to know why you’d want to know how many other people he sees a day.

You were going to push him a bit more to try and get an answer but you decide to let it go and just enjoy the rest of the picnic. You didn’t want to bring the mood down with your odd questions and/or end up making him feel so uncomfortable that he won’t want to see you anymore. It was definitely something you shouldn’t have asked but you were curious to know anyway. Overall besides that small incident, you had another wonderful time with Changbin and couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come any faster.

Changbin had a foolproof way of getting you to blush like a giddy high school teen whenever he texted you. He’d always refer to you as ‘pretty girl’ or ‘princess’ which gave you insane amount of butterflies. You loved how clingy he could get and would double text when you don’t reply fast enough, always needing constant attention from you which you never minded giving.

He texted you at around three in the afternoon, proposing his next plan for today’s date.

‘Let’s go out for drinks tonight, it’s all on me ;)’

You liked his message, replying that you’ll be there and put a series of hearts at the end. Speaking of hearts, yours is fluttering at high altitudes from the way you can’t stop thinking about your “boyfriend” Changbin. This has been better than anything you could’ve expected, you never want this week to come to an end. It’s only been three days but you’ve begun to grow feelings for him, they weren’t too strong just yet but they were most definitely there. You couldn’t let that halt you from having a good time tonight, you’ll have to accept it soon enough he’s not your actual boyfriend. He’s doing this because you paid him to, if it wasn’t for your money he wouldn’t be here right now.

‘This relationship is purely transactional’ you unfortunately keep reminding yourself of the reality you’re in. Psyching yourself out of this sudden somber mood that’s consuming you, distracting your pessimism by raiding your closet for some cute clothes to wear tonight’s date. After what seemed like hours of tearing your entire room apart, you decide to settle on this sparkly black mini tube dress, pairing it with a leather jacket and more platform shoes because you’re obsessed with feeling tall. Once it’s 7 PM you head out to the bar you’re seeing Changbin at, he was already waiting for you inside the place. Eyes instantly lighting up when he sees you coming towards him, just like he always does he motions for a hug, pulling you in tightly like he hasn’t seen you in years.

His hugs felt so cozy, like sitting in front of the fireplace on a crisp, snowy winter’s evening. You never wanted to escape the warmth of his arms, it was one of those forms of physical touch that felt so overly personal to you. The thought of him hugging someone the same way he hugs you slightly enrages something in your spirit but again, it isn’t your place to get genuinely upset over him doing his job. You’re not entitled to him exclusively, but you feel like if you keep this up feelings will only continue to develop. This wasn’t something you considered when going into this and now you feel like you’ve just made a huge mistake.

“You okay babe?” Changbin notices you acting a bit strange, choosing not to pursue it after telling him you’re fine. He knows something’s wrong but doesn’t want to mess up the flow of the date, instead he orders a drink for the both of you and switches on to a lighter subject. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow at that new centre that just opened last week. I need to buy some new AirPods, I accidentally lost one of them in a taxi..”

“Sure,” you nod at his suggestion, in desperate need of some new clothes anyway. “Sorry about your AirPods, that sucks!”

He takes a sip of his bubbly drink that’s now on the table, “Eh, it’s okay this is probably the fourth time this has happened so far.” This has pretty much become a regular occurrence for him by now.

As the date progresses, things continue getting better. You’re both laughing, engaging in much deeper conversation than ever before. You definitely had more than enough alcohol in your system by now, feeling congested and claustrophobic as more people came into the bar. Changbin takes note of your discomfort and asks if you want to get some fresh air outside, you wasted absolutely no time to agree.

While you two were outside continuing your chat about some wild conspiracy he read about online, Changbin’s attention was soon drawn to a different building nearby. Gazing up in confusion at his sudden outburst of excitement, you wonder where he could be leading you next.

“Noraebang!” He shouts loud enough anyone miles away could’ve heard that, he’s now grabbing your hand to frantically drag you along with him.

You were never one to carry a tune but Changbin was actually very good at karaoke and singing in general, he had such a lovely voice. You could seriously listen to him sing all night— which you basically did since you kept begging for an encore until it hit 4 am. That’s when you both decided to finally call it a night, you wanted to pay for the Uber since he’s paid for all the drinks and every other expenses for today. You felt bad because you were the one renting him to be your boyfriend yet he’s constantly shelling out money left and right. He still insisted on paying and ultimately won the whole debacle, making you swallow your pride and get into the Uber with him. Changbin’s definitely not just someone you’re going to forget about after this week is over. You dread the day this all comes to an end, wishing there was a way to relive these moments again and again.

“I’m a little under the weather today, sorry I can’t make it Binnie.” Your voice is hoarse from coughing and unbearable throat pain. You’ve already consumed half a bag of cough drops, throat lozenges, and random cold medicine you’ve found in your cabinets.

He sounds mildly disappointed, but springs back up with a new proposal, “I can come over and bring some soup if you’d like!”

You appreciate his gesture but still refuse, you know he’s only saying all this because he has to, not because he wants to. “N-no you don’t have to, I’m sure you can go see other clients today. One less person to worry about right?”

The call went silent for a minute, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a deprecating comment.

“I don’t want to see other clients, I want to see you ___.” He sighs, unwilling to give up so easily, “I’ll be at your place soon, m’kay?” He hangs up before you could even respond or say no again.

You had no choice but to wait for Changbin to show up now. Before you got sick, the last two dates you went on were debatably the best so far. You had gone out shopping together, accidentally wearing almost the same kind of outfit. Changbin was wearing a white graphic tee with blue baggy jeans and you wore something practically identical. The two of you looked like a real, official couple and people would stare as you walked hand in hand, it really did seem like the perfect relationship on the outside.

You got even closer when he came over the following day, resulting in you two cuddling while watching movies and baking cookies. He’s expressed that he’s never been to another client’s home before but it wasn’t “technically” against any rules. The more you kept hanging out together, the harder it was coming to terms with the fact you’re actually falling for Changbin. He made every experience with you more exciting than the last, which he did exactly that night. When the cookies were done you fed a piece to him, making little airplane sounds as you do it, he eagerly takes a bite of the chewy treat and compliments both your efforts.

“These taste way better than I thought, oh my god they literally melt in your mouth. Try it!” He takes another cookie from the tray and feeds it to you this time.

There was something so overly domestic about that moment you couldn’t shake the feelings of wanting to kiss him right then and there. But you can’t. If you did such a thing you’d never be allowed to see him again, plus you don’t want to be known as that one creepy client who just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. As you were cuddling on the couch though, things may have taken a turn for the better… or worse?

Changbin would “yawn” at the movie and subtly wrap his arm around you, he’d subconsciously pull you in closer and it didn’t make it any better that you were under the same blanket. You weren’t complaining at any of this though, you were pretty much in heaven. It took everything in you not to look up and stare, gluing your eyes to the movie that was displayed on the TV. But as the night progressed you were practically snuggling up with him like he was your real boyfriend. The way he’d run his fingers gently down your back, soothing you in a way that could lull you asleep. His touch was the most relaxing thing ever, you were so calm with him and loved how he brought a side of you that’s never been shown. After this encounter you can no longer deny the way you feel— you are officially falling deeply in love your rental boyfriend, Seo Changbin.

The sound of your doorbell ringing alarms you of a new visitor, who was none other than your “boyfriend” waiting patiently outside the door for you. You feel and look like death itself, coming downstairs to answer the door still in your PJ’s and hair a disheveled mess. Every five seconds was interrupted with you coughing your lungs out, barely able to speak above a whisper. Changbin looks thrilled as ever to see you, even when you clearly don’t look your best he’s still coming up to hug you tightly. His hugs are always blocking off your airways from the way his muscles squeeze you, it’s even worse when you’re sick— practically gasping for air.

“Sorry babyy, I just missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day and soon as you said you’re sick I dropped everything to go make you this soup. It’s a specialty I make whenever my friends are sick, the perfect remedy to cure my princess.” He goes into your kitchen to heat up the soup in your microwave, making you wait patiently on the couch as you’re wrapped up in multiple blankets.

Your body feels like it’s -2 degrees, you were freezing. The crazy thing is your thermostat was set to 80 degrees, it was definitely you that was the problem. He propped your feet up on the table, rested a tray in your lap and set the bowl of soup on top. Brushing a couple strands of hair out your face he looks at you intently, examining your symptoms as if he’s a doctor.

“It’ll be okay soon love, I’m here to nurse you back to health again. Can’t see my pretty baby sick like this, makes me all sad.” He pouts, giving you a soft head pat like you’re a delicate kitten.

He takes a spoonful of the hot soup, slightly blowing on it before telling you to open up so you can eat. You don’t know what’s gotten into you but you feel like he’s gone too far with all this. It’s not fair for you to continue on if it’s just become torture now. He’s practically dangling in your face that you’ll never have a partner as perfect as him in your life.

“I- I can’t do this anymore Changbin..” you say lowly, refusing to eat the soup he made.

“What do you mean? I’m just feeding you soup, it’s my duty as your boyfriend to-”

“This isn’t real… none of it is. I’m stupid for even doing this but I was lonely.. I’m sorry but I’d prefer something that isn’t temporary.” You cut him off to express your pent up frustrations, ready to be let down and rejected by him as gently as possible.

“Then let’s make it real,” he proposes without any hesitation, “honestly I stopped faking it around our third date, it was all me after that. I never said anything because well… this is my job and I’ve never fallen for a client before so this is still all very new to me..”

You’d be screaming right now if you weren’t sick, instead you’re internally freaking out at this confession, it feels like your hearts doing cartwheels and somersaults.

“Seriously?” Eyes widening as you look at him, suddenly your body heat rises and you know it’s not because of the soup or the layers of blankets that’s covering you.

He nods, “I thought it was kinda obvious when we kissed yesterday..”

Oh yeah… you forgot that did happen. You thought it was another fever dream you might’ve just made up in your head. You shared your first kiss with someone you deemed so special and important to you, someone you never would’ve guessed could come into your life and shift the entirety of your world like magic. There was no one else in existence you wanted more than Changbin.

“Doesn’t that mean you’ll have to quit your job? I don’t want to be the reason you stop making such good income.. I’ll feel so bad.” You knew deep down you didn’t feel that badly about him quitting to date you instead. It was just the thought of him leaving something he’s been doing for years behind all for some girl he’s known for simply a week.

He shrugs at your comment, “I’ll be just fine, I was planning on finding a new job soon anyway. It gets kinda old after a while, I felt like I was on autopilot most of the time. You were able to get me to open up and show my true self, I could never thank you enough for that ___.” Changbin couldn’t resist the urge to plant a kiss to your forehead.

After everything that’s been said and done. What you’ve come to understand is that love is learned, a development that takes time to grow and blossom into something extraordinary. Just like learning a new language or a musical instrument, we learn love from society and cultures we’re raised in, it’s a beautiful thing once we know how to cherish it. Your newfound romance with Changbin is something you’ll learn to cherish forever and ever.

[End <3].

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milkteabinniechan · 4 days ago

Text

♡Barbarian Prince - Seo Changbin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: barbarian! Changbin x bride! reader

summary: You've been sold to the prince of the savage tribe outside your village in order to broker peace for your people. You have avoided being alone with him for weeks but now he comes home from a hunt and he needs you now.

warnings: predator/prey dynamic, primal changbin, size difference, rough sex, rough choking, breath play, orgasm denial, mating ritual

"Princess, must I always chase you like a fox after a wary hen?"

Changbin's heart races as he holds your chin, feeling the soft moan vibrate against his palm. He searches your eyes, seeing the fear, the uncertainty, and something else there too, something that looks an awful lot like desire. "You're shaking," He notices, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Can't help it." You moan again.

He can feel your body responding to his touch, the way you tremble and the soft moans that escape your lips. It spurs something primal within him, a need to claim and possess. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growls "Tell me to stop."

Your back arches and your mouth parts to speak. "I want..." You begin to whisper, "I want to see you take what you want."

Changbin's heart pounds in his chest as he hears your words, his grip on your chin tightening. He can feel his control slipping, the primal urge to claim you overwhelming his rational thoughts. "You want to see how I take what I want?" He repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"Yes, my king." Your first admission of his title, of his birthright, of his power.

At your words, something snaps inside of him. He pulls you into his arms, crushing your mouth beneath his in a brutal kiss. He stands up, holding you against him as he turns and walks back to his tent. "You should have said no when you had the chance, Princess."

As you reach the tent flap, he pauses, looking down at your flushed face with savage satisfaction. "Last chance to change your mind," I growl, my eyes blazing with primal hunger. "Once we're inside, I won't be responsible for my actions." With a primal roar, Changbin kicks open the tent flap and carries you inside. He tosses you onto the furs covering his bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he begins to tear off his armor and clothing with impatient hands. "You wanted to see how a barbarian takes what he wants, Princess."

Your eyes burn and bite into his exposed flesh. Every flex and pull of his muscles being accentuated by the flames of the fireplace. He stalks towards you, naked and unashamed in his raw desire. "Don't look at me like that," he warns, his voice ragged. "Unless you want me to devour you whole right now." He crawls onto the furs, caging you beneath him. His eyes drop to the inviting sight between your thighs, and he loses what little control he had left. He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, pulling you closer as he positions himself at your entrance. Your legs tremble for a moment as his tip presses warningly against your swollen clit. With a grunt, he thrusts forward, burying his length inside you in one brutal stroke. He doesn't stop until he is fully seated, your legs trapped in the mating press position as he holds you open for his possession. "FUCK," he roars, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. Changbin's breath catches at the perfect heat of your pussy, pulsating around him. His vision goes dark with pleasure as he begins to move, claiming you in long, powerful strokes. He can feel the mating bond sparking between the two of you, connecting your very souls.

Your body attempts to adjust to his size. You cover your mouth with one hand while the other hand white knuckles the fur beneath you. “You're huge!” You squeal, your fingers now tangled in his hair as he pants and grunts with each stroke. Changbin snarls possessively, his hips snapping forward as he fills you completely. "And you're taking every inch like a good little princess." He leans down, biting your neck hard enough to leave a mark. His movements become more primal, more aggressive as the mating bond takes over. He feels your small hands on his shoulders now and it only fuels his need to claim you. He wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly as he pistons his hips, driving into you with all the force of a wild beast.

“Yes, like that…please.” You moan desperately. Changbin's eyes blaze with savage triumph at your encouragement. He redoubles his efforts, slamming into you harder and faster, the furs beneath you shifting with the force of his thrusts. A feral grin spreads across his face as he feels your walls starting to flutter around his thick cock.

You find his hand positioned at your waist and bring it up to your throat. Understanding your silent plea, he tightens his grip around your neck possessively. "Do you trust me?" He growls, his thrusts becoming even more powerful and uncontrolled. "Because I'm going to completely own you now..." His fingers flex slightly, pressing just enough to restrict your breath. “I…trust…you.” You breathe out. Something in his dark eyes told you everything you needed to know. He wanted to own you like the barbarian princess. You were his to do with whatever he wanted. Changbin's pace becomes almost brutal, each thrust designed to claim every inch of your body as his. The sight of your stomach stretching and bulging around his shaft nearly drives him over the edge. His breathing becomes ragged as he maintains his grip on your neck. His fingers tighten slightly more, cutting off your air supply completely. His other massive arm around your waist pulls you closer, ensuring you can't escape his crushing grip. "Look at me," he commands, his voice hoarse with primal need. You lock eyes with him obediently and you can feel him twitch and pulse deep inside of you. As he holds your gaze, he can feel the mating bond reach its peak. With an animalistic roar, he releases a torrent of seed deep inside you, filling you to the brim as he continues to squeeze your neck, ensuring you can't breathe until he says so. Changbin maintains his grip on your neck, enjoying the way your eyes widen as you struggle for breath. He can feel your body convulse around his still twitching cock as you try to inhale, but his fingers remain firmly pressed against your throat. "Not yet," he growls, his eyes locked onto yours. Your cunt throbs as the room is heavy with a dominant air. As you feel your orgasm building, he decides to give you a little more pressure, cutting off your air supply even further. Your struggles become more frantic as your body fights for oxygen, and your pussy clenches around his cock in a vice-like grip. "Now.” Changbin feels your walls clamping down on his cock like a silken vice as your orgasm overtakes you, your release coating his pelvis in a slick mess. As you come back down from your climax, Changbin finally relaxes his fingers around your throat, allowing you to gasp in much-needed air. But instead of releasing you entirely, he keeps his hand wrapped around your neck, controlling your breaths. "Breathe.” He whispers softly. He watches closely as you inhale, his fingers still wrapped possessively around your throat. His other hand moves to your hips, holding you in place as he slowly pulls out of your still-spasming pussy, a thick mixture of your combined releases dripping out. "Good princess, it seems you have finally learned your place here. You are mine to claim, mine to own. And in return, I will protect you with my life. You are my sun and my moon now. My beginning and my end.” Changbin kisses your lips softly, lingering for a moment and presses his forehead to yours.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki @softkisshyunjin

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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 4 months ago

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ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖: Rules of the pack

Word count: 2819

Summary: When Y/N woke up, she felt sore but comforted by the warmth surrounding her. Felix was nearby, and Chan's amused voice filled the room. Chan reassured Y/N that her recent distress was addressed and that the pack was committed to her well-being. Han and Chan explained the pack's rules and daily routines. Chan also reassured Y/N about her safety and comfort, particularly addressing her concerns about heats and marking. Y/N revealed her fears of rejection and her wish for a mark, which made Chan address her anxieties gently. Chan promised that they would proceed at a pace that made Y/N comfortable, ensuring she felt secure and valued. The pack’s supportive atmosphere provided Y/N with much-needed reassurance and warmth.

Warning: Angst/comfort, abuse, cursing, hate, insecurities, mention of Sexual Assault.

When Y/n next awoke, her body was heavy with aches, but she was cocooned in a comforting warmth. Her eyes fluttered open, gradually adjusting to the soft light that bathed the room. She felt the gentle weight of light arms still draped around her, and as she shifted, the body beneath her stirred slightly.

"Okay, she's awake," Felix's voice came softly, a warm smile evident even before she fully opened her eyes.

"You have freckles," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she giggled, her gaze unfocused but affectionate.

"Jesus Christ, Felix, you really knocked her out," came Chan's voice, carrying a blend of exasperation and amusement from across the room. She recognized the familiarity of his tone even before she saw him lounging on another couch.

"Hyung, I had to! She was panicking," Felix replied, his voice laced with concern as he looked down at her, his expression a mix of relief and affection.

"It's okay. At least she got some rest," Chan reassured, settling back into the cushions as Y/n slowly pushed herself up. Her movements were sluggish, and she stretched languidly, feeling the stiffness in her muscles.

"Yah! So cute," Changbin cooed from his spot, his voice light and teasing, eliciting a sleepy grumble from Y/n.

"What time is it?" she asked through a yawn, her fingers rubbing at her sore limbs.

"It's 11:25, honey. You were out for two hours," Leeknow chimed in, glancing up from his phone with a smile.

As she took in the room, she noticed everyone was now in their pajamas, some of them matching in a cozy, coordinated way. The scene was oddly domestic, and the warmth and camaraderie of the pack wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.

"Would you like a drink?" I.N asked, pouring a glass of milk for her. Without much choice, she accepted the glass and took large gulps.

"Careful, sweetie! You don't want to choke," I.N said with a concerned smile.

The warm milk settled comfortably in her stomach, adding a soothing warmth to her body. She leaned back further into Felix, snuggling in more. "I want to be in your skin," she whined, trying to press even closer. Felix chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely.

"Hey! No fair. I want a cuddle too," Han complained from the carpet, his voice playful. His complaint was cut short when I.N pulled him onto his lap and kissed his pout away.

"Okay, ew, can we get this meeting over with? Or is Y/n so out of it?" Leeknow yawned, laying his head on Chan's shoulder. Chan happily wrapped his arms around him, providing a snug embrace.

"Yeah, I think she can function, right, little one?" Chan asked, and Y/n responded with a small, sleepy moan that made him chuckle. "First off, Y/nnie," he said, catching her gaze through her lashes and drawing a few 'awwwws' from the pack. "I'm sorry for the way the boys reacted. It was absolutely unacceptable, and I've made sure it won't happen again."

"Oppa!" Y/n shrieked in surprise, her eyes widening.

"No, I didn't kill them! They're just in a time-out or whatever you want to call it," Chan quickly reassured her, noticing her relief. "Y/n, you're safe here. I promise, as your pack alpha, no one will hurt you—not even if they're in the pack. We are all about love here, and Hyunjin's ego problem is just part of who he is. Just ask Han."

"Ugh! When I joined, he was the worst," Han added with a dramatic sigh.

"Tell me about it! These two used to throw things at each other and weren't even allowed to be in the same room," Changbin groaned, rubbing his face in frustration.

"It was the worst," I.N chimed in, his eyes wide with remembered horror.

"Pffttt, once I.N got headphones thrown at his head because he chose Hyunjin's side over Han's," Felix snickered, causing the room to burst into laughter.

"It's not funny, hyung!" I.N groaned, glaring at Felix. "I had a huge knot on my head and had to reassure fans that I wasn't being abused. Worst 72 hours of my life!"

"Hey! I apologized, and he learned his lesson," Han shrugged, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy.

"Yeah, you're done," I.N said, pushing Han off his lap. Han tumbled onto the carpet, and Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"Anyways, back to the point!" Chan said, regaining everyone's attention. "Y/n, we want you to be in our pack. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?" Her heart warmed at the sincerity in his voice. She nodded in response, and Chan's smile widened even more. "We have a few pack rules to go over and some things we need to straighten out—"

"Ooh, can I say the rules?" Han asked eagerly, bouncing into Chan's lap as if it were his own personal throne.

"Okay, go ahead, love," Chan said with a smile.

Han clapped his hands together enthusiastically, then turned his attention to Y/n. "Alright, alright," he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Number one: The most important rule. NO omega is allowed to go out without an alpha or beta at ANY point of the day, no matter what. It's dangerous and scary out there," Han said, shivering slightly as if the danger were real. "Channie-hyung says it's safer this way because no rogues will disturb us or try to kidnap or harm us."

"Yeah, that's right," Chan interjected, nodding gravely. "I know it sounds a bit demanding, but I want all of you safe no matter what. So you have to follow that rule, okay?"

"Yes, oppa," Y/n replied, her voice earnest. She actually found the rule reassuring; Han was right, she was terrified of being out alone without protection—exactly how she'd ended up kidnapped in the first place.

"Okay, next rules!" Han cleared his throat dramatically. "No visitors unless Channie-hyung is aware and confident that they're no harm. Curfew is midnight. Alphas are the only ones allowed to hunt. No leaving the house without informing each other. Dinner is usually at 8, so make sure you're here for that."

Y/n giggled at Han's enthusiastic recitation. Minho, who had been silently listening, rolled his eyes.

"This one is mostly Minho-hyung's rule," Han continued, with a cheeky grin. "No going into the kitchen unless you're told to or ask first because apparently, that's his den."

Minho huffed, crossing his arms. "Only Felix is allowed in the kitchen. I swear, if I didn't put that rule in place, the house would've been burned down by now!"

"Dramatic much?" Han teased, but a sudden pinch from Minho made him yelp. "OW! Rude!"

"Just continue," Minho grumbled, still glaring but with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Han rolled his eyes but was clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright. What was I saying? Oh right. Okay, we aren't allowed to enter Hyunjin's painting room..." Han said with a dramatic flourish. "I think that's all. We're allowed to shift but only outside. The fullmoon gets really busy so we always decide to stay in our part of the forest when we shift. The rules are pretty easy, any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, looking back at Chan, who nodded in approval.

"Alright, a bit of information for you," Chan said, his tone shifting to something more informative. "We usually leave the house at 6 a.m. for practice and other activities. If you'd rather sleep in, that's perfectly fine; Minho will probably leave some breakfast for you. Just make sure you don't skip meals, okay? And every week, we have Taco Tuesday, game night on Fridays, and sometimes we do pizza-making on Mondays." He glanced around to ensure everyone was paying attention. "Does anyone else want to add anything?"

"Whatever Chan says goes," Changbin said with a nod, "but he always makes sure we're all involved. It's all about teamwork. If you have any trouble with alphas or anything else, come to one of us. We'll take care of it." His tone was reassuring, and Y/N felt a warm flush of gratitude at their protective nature.

"U-um, Alpha—"

"Please, Y/nnie, don't call me that," Chan quickly interrupted with a soft smile. "Call me Channie, Chan, Chris, or Oppa—whatever feels right for you. Now, go ahead."

Y/n nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing timidly, "What about... heats?"

There was a brief silence, and Chan's expression softened. "Hey, there's no need to be embarrassed. It's completely normal," he said gently. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. In her past experiences, discussing heats with alphas had always been taboo, something they avoided at all costs.

"Y/n, heats are normal," Chan continued. "We have a designated room for that, and Felix will show it to you. Do you normally handle it on your own?"

"N-no," Y/n stammered, her voice dropping to a whisper as painful memories surfaced. "Normally, we don't have a choice..." Her eyes filled with tears as she recalled how her previous situations had forced her into isolation during such times. "They just..."

She choked on her words, unable to continue. Felix, who had been listening quietly, tightened his embrace around her. The pack fell silent, sensing the gravity of her pain.

"It's okay, Y/N," Chan said softly, his voice filled with sympathy. "Here, you won't have to go through it alone. We're here to support you, and you can always rely on us. You're part of this family now, and we take care of our own."

Felix nodded, his eyes filled with reassurance. "We'll make sure you're comfortable and supported. You're never alone here, okay?"

Y/n nodded, her heart swelling with a mixture of relief and emotion. The pack's warmth and support enveloped her, providing a sense of safety she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hyung, maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now," Felix said softly, noticing how the smaller omega tensed at the mention of heats.

Chan's concern deepened, and he quickly nodded in agreement. "Alright, we'll set this aside for now. Y/n, you can either ride it out alone or ask any of us for help. It's completely your choice. We'll make sure you have everything you need to be comfortable, and we'll take care of you."

"Really, Oppa?" Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yes, love," Chan affirmed, his voice full of reassurance. "Is there anything else you'd like to ask?" His gaze was filled with concern for the younger omega. He wanted to understand what had happened to her to make her so wary. The thought of alphas abusing her made him seethe with anger, but he knew he needed to remain composed.

"Can... can I build a nest? I haven't done that in a while," she asked timidly.

"Of course, you can!" Chan said with a warm smile. "I was actually planning on suggesting that you order whatever you need online. Felix can help you pick the best options." He looked over at Felix, who beamed with joy at the opportunity to assist.

"And what about... pups?" Y/n's voice trembled slightly as she asked, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "Do you want me to conceive during my first heat? I have no—"

The room erupted in gasps. Felix's expression shifted to one of shock, while Chan's face turned stern but gentle.

"Y/n, no, no, no. We need to discuss that as a group when the time comes. We're not rushing you into anything, and honestly, I don't think any of us are ready for that kind of responsibility right now," Chan said, his tone firm yet caring. "Let's take things slowly. We'll get there when we're ready. Speaking of which, we may need to consider birth control options for you."

Y/n's shoulders relaxed slightly at the reassurance, and she looked at Chan with a mix of relief and gratitude. Felix continued to hold her close, his hand gently stroking her back. The pack members exchanged glances, their earlier tension replaced.

"Oh yes! I'll book her an appointment, Hyung," Minho says, sitting up with a determined look. He scribbles down a note, clearly taking charge of the situation.

Chan sighs deeply, shifting Han on his lap to make himself more comfortable. "Y/n, I do need to speak to you about something," he begins, his expression turning serious. "It's about your patches. Felix mentioned them, and we think it might be best to get you checked by a doctor as soon as possible. We want to make sure you're okay." His voice carries an edge of concern, hoping she won't become overwhelmed by the news.

"O-okay, they really are irritating," Y/n responds, her tone a mix of relief and apprehension. Chan lets out a sigh of relief as well, glad to see her accepting the suggestion without panic.

"Great! We'll schedule an appointment for tomorrow, before you all go shopping and do whatever it is you omegas like to do," Chan says with a chuckle, glancing at Han who is busy twirling the string of Chan's hoodie around his fingers. "I.N, will you be with them tomorrow while Changbin and I finish up in the studio?"

"Yeah, of course, Hyung. I don't have any plans," I.N replies. "Will Minho be joining us?"

"I don't have a choice," Minho grumbles, though there's a hint of amusement in his voice. Chan nudges his cheek with his nose, causing Minho to roll his eyes.

"Three omegas against our Innie? They'll make him run mad," Minho jokes.

"Hey!" all three omegas exclaim simultaneously, making Minho snicker.

"I'm just being honest. It's like setting up for a disaster," Minho continues, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"I'm with Minho on this one. You lot are a handful—OW!" Chan winces as Han playfully bites his shoulder. A small bite mark starts to form, and Han shrugs with a mischievous grin.

"You asked for it," Han says with a nonchalant shrug, high-fiving both Felix and Y/n. The room fills with their giggles, a warm and lighthearted atmosphere settling over everyone.

"What am I going to do with you, ugh!" Chan groans playfully.

"When will I get marked, oppa?" Y/N's voice is soft, and her eyes are filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability. The room's atmosphere shifts instantly, everyone's attention focusing on Chan. The playful banter stops as the seriousness of her question settles in.

"How about we first get you comfortable and then we can talk about marking you?" Chan says, his tone gentle but firm. He wants to assure her without rushing into anything. His intention is to make Y/N feel secure and not overwhelmed, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

Y/N's expression falters, her eyes wide with hurt and confusion. She shrinks against Felix, her omega's distress turning her form small and withdrawn. Chan notices immediately and, with a frown of concern, gently nudges Han off his lap.

"Hey, hey, come here," Chan says softly, opening his arms for Y/N. His voice is soothing, trying to bridge the gap between his intentions and her feelings. "Come to me, Y/n."

With a tentative motion, Y/n crawls into Chan's lap, her body trembling slightly. Chan wraps his arms around her, pulling her close in an attempt to comfort her. He can feel the tension in her small frame and the quiet whimpers that escape her.

"What's wrong?" Chan asks gently, his voice filled with concern. He tilts her chin up so he can meet her gaze, hoping to make her feel more secure. He notices her eyes are now gold meaning her omega was in charge right now. "Tell me what's going on."

Y/N's eyes well up with tears, and she buries her face in Chan's chest, her voice trembling as she speaks. "S-she thinks you're rejecting us. She wants your mark so bad," she whispers, her words barely audible. The hurt in her voice is clear, and Chan's heart aches for her.

"Does she want it right now?" Chan asks, his worry evident. He wants to make sure she knows that he's not rejecting her, and that he genuinely cares for her well-being.

Y/N nods slowly, her tears soaking into Chan's shirt. "Y-yes, she thinks you'll find better. She's scared. She wants to be yours," she confesses, her words filled with desperation and insecurity.

Chan's expression softens as he looks down at her, his heart breaking for her. "Oh, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm not rejecting you. It's not about that at all. I just want to make sure you're comfortable and ready before we move forward. I don't want to rush you into something you're not prepared for."

He gently strokes her hair, trying to soothe her. "It's important to me that you feel safe and secure. We'll take our time with this, and we'll do it when it feels right for both of us. You're not just a mark to me. You're important, and I care about you deeply."

Y/N's sobs start to quiet down as Chan continues to hold her close, his words calming her. Felix, Han, and the rest of the pack watch with concern.

Chan continues to speak softly, his arms wrapping around Y/N protectively. "We'll take this step by step. I promise you, you're safe here. We'll make sure you're comfortable and that this is right for both of us. It's not about finding someone better; it's about making sure we both feel right about this."

Y/N finally looks up at Chan, her eyes still filled with tears but also with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

🍄🌻🥞🌿

Dont forget to reblog and follow! <3

Taglist: @ihrtlix @bowsnbang @katsukis1wife @thegingerthatwaited

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centralization0 · 20 days ago

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estellan0vella · 28 days ago

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To Han Jisung’s Sheer, Unbridled Stupidity: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.1K

CW: Simp Jisung (he's down bad), Horny Jisung, Minho being a menace (standard), mentions of sex, No Nut November, reader making Jisung go through it, teasing, Minho and reader shenanigans General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I

Rain hammers the windows, an unrelenting torrent that turns the world outside into a blur of grey streaks and rattles against the thin glass of Jisung’s room in the Alpha Phi house. The storm is angry, howling wind shaking the old frame of the window, thunder rolling like the earth is tearing itself apart. Inside, though, the room is a sanctuary, warm and alive, lit by the soft glow of Jisung’s desk lamp and the dim blue of the LED strips running haphazardly along the ceiling.

Million Dollar Baby pulses low from the Bluetooth speaker perched on a stack of textbooks Jisung will never read. The beat vibrates faintly through the cluttered room, mixing with the rhythm of the rain and the occasional sharp crack of thunder.

You’re curled at his desk, the mirror in front of you streaked with fingerprints and old, faded smudges of eyeliner, slowly wiping your face clean of makeup. Each swipe of the cotton pad feels deliberate, calming. Your skin is bare now, the freckles you’ve always tried to ignore standing out starkly under the warm light.

Behind you, Jisung sprawls lazily on his unmade bed, his boxers riding low on his hips, the waistband crooked where he’s been shifting around. His messy silver hair sticks up in wild directions, and he looks as comfortable as someone with a hyperactive Staffordshire bull terrier puppy in their lap can be. Zak wriggles and squirms, tail going like a jackhammer as he attacks Jisung’s hands with relentless enthusiasm.

“Zak, you little shit, can you chill for, like, two fucking seconds?” Jisung groans, half-laughing as he tries to fend off the puppy’s relentless tongue. “I swear to God, he’s got no sense of boundaries.”

You glance at them through the mirror, a faint smile curling your lips. “He’s a puppy, Ji. What do you expect? He’s like a toddler on crack.”

“No, he’s a demon on fucking crack,” Jisung shoots back, wrestling Zak’s head away from his face. “Look at this little shit. He thinks he’s in charge.”

Zak, completely unbothered by the insult, barks sharply and lunges for Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung lets out an exaggerated yelp, flopping dramatically onto his back and letting the puppy clamber triumphantly onto his chest. “See? He’s already won. I’m fucking dead.”

You snort, turning back to the mirror to dab toner onto a fresh cotton pad. “You’re such a drama queen. Zak’s, like, a tenth your size.”

Jisung props himself up on one elbow, glaring at you through the chaos of his hair. “A tenth of my size but a hundred fucking times more chaotic. Don’t let his cute little face fool you. He’s a fucking menace.”

You glance back over your shoulder, watching as Zak starts gnawing on the hem of Jisung’s boxers. “Yeah, he’s a menace because you let him walk all over you. He’s got you wrapped around his little paw, and you fucking know it.”

“Bullshit,” Jisung says, but there’s no heat in his voice. His hand comes up to scratch behind Zak’s ears, and the puppy melts, flopping onto his side with a happy grunt. Jisung grins smugly, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “See? Total fucking alpha over here.”

You roll your eyes so hard you swear they might get stuck. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, turning back to your reflection. Your fingers work the toner into your skin and for a moment, the only sound is the music and the storm outside.

Jisung breaks the silence with a sudden, almost-too-loud, “Hey, you missed a spot.”

You whip around, narrowing your eyes at him. “Where?”

He points vaguely at your cheek, an innocent expression on his face. “Right there. No, wait, there. Actually, fuck, you should probably just start over.”

“Fuck you,” you say with no real venom, throwing the used cotton pad at his head. It lands on Zak instead, who sniffs at it curiously before deciding it’s not worth the effort.

“Rude,” Jisung says, grinning as he picks the pad off Zak’s back and tosses it onto the floor. “I’m trying to help here.”

“Your version of help is being a fucking asshole,” you retort, grabbing your serum. The glass bottle feels cool and solid in your hand, grounding you as you pat the liquid onto your cheeks.

Jisung watches you, his head tilted to one side like he’s trying to figure something out. “You know,” he says slowly, “I don’t get why you bother covering up all your freckles. They’re hot as fuck.”

You freeze mid-pat, blinking at him. “What?”

“Your freckles,” he repeats, propping himself up higher on the bed. Zak takes the opportunity to try and lick his face again, but Jisung dodges him expertly. “They’re like, I don’t know, constellations or some shit. Fucking unreal.”

A flush creeps up your neck, but you force yourself to keep working the serum into your skin. “You’re so fucking corny,” you mutter, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Corny but right,” he shoots back, leaning down to kiss Zak’s head. The puppy wriggles happily, thumping his tail against Jisung’s thigh. “You’re like a walking fucking galaxy. It’s nuts.”

You groan, finally turning to face him. “Can you go one fucking minute without saying something completely ridiculous?”

“Nope,” he says easily, grinning at you. “It’s part of my charm.”

Zak barks, cutting through the moment like a knife, and you glance at him with a soft laugh. “Poor baby’s scared of the storm.”

“Scared?” Jisung scoffs, pulling Zak closer. “Nah, he’s just dramatic as fuck. Like me.”

“God help us,” you say under your breath as Jisung manages to get Zak to sit still in his lap for longer than two seconds.

“Victory,” Jisung says smugly, pressing a triumphant kiss to your temple. “Told you I’m the alpha.”

Jisung tilts his head back against the wall, his silver hair sticking up in wild, unkempt tufts. His eyes are half-lidded, following your every move as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Zak has finally settled on the bed beside him, chewing on one of Jisung’s socks with the kind of ferocity only a puppy can muster.

“We could pawn Zak off on Chan,” Jisung says suddenly, his voice cutting through the storm’s din. The teasing edge in his tone is unmistakable. “Or better yet, Minho. That fucker loves this little gremlin.”

You glance at him through the streaked mirror, your eyebrow arching. “Yeah, and why the fuck would we send my dog to Minho, of all people?”

“So we could Netflix and chill,” Jisung replies, his smirk spreading wide as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, as long as I don’t nut, it’s still fair game.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your moisturizer. “Because that worked out so fucking well last time, right? Minho was banging on the wall the whole fucking time.”

Jisung groans, dragging his hand down his face. “That cunt needs to get over himself. Like he doesn’t fuck loudly. I heard him and some Kappa Tau girl last week, and I’m still traumatized.”

You snort, trying not to laugh too hard as you dab cream onto your cheeks. “You know Minho would bury you alive for saying that.”

“Yeah, well, he can suck my dick until- Wait, no, he can’t.” Jisung pauses, the realization hitting mid-sentence. “Fuck. No Nut November is ruining my comebacks.”

You roll your eyes, biting back another laugh. “Tragic.”

Jisung grins, clearly refusing to let the moment go. “Fine, if Netflix is too risky, what about Disney Plus and eating puss?”

The words hit like a record scratch, and you freeze mid-pat, staring at him. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m an innovator,” he counters smugly. “Amazon Prime and sexy time? HBO Max and relax? Babe, I can do this all night.”

“You’re going to make me lose brain cells,” you mutter, turning back to the mirror and smearing moisturizer across your face with more force than necessary.

“Please, you love it,” Jisung says, practically purring. “You love how fucking clever I am.”

“Clever, my ass,” you retort. “You’re a walking shitpost with a good jawline.”

“And you’re the love of my life,” he shoots back smoothly. “Funny how that works.”

Before you can answer, a muffled voice echoes through the wall. “I swear to God, if you fuckers start again, I’m torching this house.”

You blink, startled, and Jisung immediately shouts back. “Shut up, Minho! No one asked for your fucking input!”

“Oh, I’m giving it anyway!” Minho yells. “Every time you so much as think about touching her, I hear it. The moaning, the spanking. Do you have any idea how thin these walls are?”

Jisung looks genuinely scandalized. “Spanking? You’re imagining shit now, man.”

“Oh, I’m imagining?!” Minho fires back. “You’re the one who kept me up until two in the fucking morning last week with your unholy fucking racket!”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting laid and you’re stuck cuddling your cats!” Jisung shouts, his voice dripping with smugness.

“Jealous? Of you? You couldn’t make me jealous if you paid me!” The venom in Minho’s tone is undercut by the sound of Zak barking, his tail thumping wildly against the bed.

Jisung turns to Zak, gesturing wildly. “See? Even the dog agrees you’re full of shit!”

Zak barks again, clearly thinking this is all one big game, and Jisung grins triumphantly. “That’s two against one, Minho!”

There’s silence for a beat, and then Minho’s door slams open. A moment later, he’s standing in Jisung’s doorway, his hair a mess, his face twisted into a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. Zak immediately perks up, tail wagging so hard it’s practically a weapon.

“Fucking hell, I should’ve known better than to try reasoning with you,” Minho says, stalking into the room. “You’re like a fucking feral raccoon in human form.”

“Nice to see you too, asshole,” Jisung says brightly, clearly unfazed. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I’m about to beat the shit out of you, that’s what’s up,” Minho snaps, lunging for the bed. Zak jumps out of the way just in time as Minho tackles Jisung, both of them hitting the floor in a chaotic mess of limbs and curses.

“Minho, you fucking dick!” Jisung yells, laughing despite himself as Minho gets him in a loose headlock. “You’re gonna fucking kill me!”

“Good!” Minho barks, tightening his grip. “I’ll finally get some fucking sleep!”

Zak bounces around them, barking excitedly, his tail a blur of motion. You sit back in your chair, watching the chaos unfold with a look of mild amusement. “You know, sometimes I think you two are secretly dating,” you comment, winding another strand of hair into a roller.

Minho pauses mid-shove, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Wow, she knows. Guess we’re out now.”

“Busted,” Jisung wheezes from under him. “Sorry you had to find out this way, babe.”

You hum, leaning forward to inspect your reflection. “Makes sense. The sexual tension’s been unbearable for months.”

“Fuck off,” Minho grumbles, finally releasing Jisung and flopping onto his back. Zak takes the opportunity to pounce on him, licking his face like his life depends on it.

Jisung sits up, rubbing his neck with a wince. “Minho, since you’re already here, wanna take Zak for the night?”

“Fuck no,” Minho says immediately as he scratches behind Zak's ears. “But thanks for asking.”

“Coward,” Jisung mutters, collapsing back onto the bed beside you. He looks up at you with that familiar mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with trouble. “So… Disney Plus and eating puss?”

You throw a hair roller at his head.

The dim kitchen glows faintly under the yellow overhead light, the kind of low, uneven light that makes everything feel softer, less real. The storm outside has eased into a gentle drizzle, the sound of rain on the windows rhythmic and soothing.

You’re leaning against the counter, cradling a mug of tea that’s still too hot to drink, your fingers playing idly with the spoon inside it. The hum of the electric kettle lingers in the background, filling the quiet with something steady.

Jisung’s hoodie swallows you, the oversized fabric brushing your thighs, the sleeves pooled around your wrists. The faint smell of him lingers in the material, making you feel cocooned despite the chill of the kitchen tiles against your fuzzy-socked feet.

It’s stupidly late, probably close to three in the morning, but the house is finally quiet, and you needed this. The calm, the tea, the moment to yourself.

The creak of the old floorboards makes you glance over your shoulder. Minho materializes in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, looking half-asleep but still somehow put together in that effortless way that pisses you off.

His red hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, like he’s been wrestling with a pillow all night, and his sweatpants hang low on his hips, barely clinging there. He squints at you, his lips tugging into a crooked smirk.

“Holy shit,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep. “A fucking cryptid in her natural habitat.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to your tea. “Fuck off, Minho.”

“No, really,” he continues, stepping fully into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless on the tile. “I didn’t think anyone else was dumb enough to be awake at this hour, but here you fucking are. What’re you doing? Summoning demons? Making moon water?”

“Drinking tea,” you reply dryly, taking a careful sip. The liquid is still scalding, but you let the heat settle on your tongue, the warmth a small comfort.

“Tea,” Minho echoes, leaning against the counter next to you, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. “At three in the fucking morning. What are you, eighty?”

You give him a flat look. “You’re awake, too, asshole.”

“Yeah, because I’m plotting my victory,” he says, his smirk sharpening into something cocky. “Speaking of, you’re just the person I need.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpan, setting your mug down with a soft clink. “What’s it this time? Another fucking prank? Did you break something and need me to lie for you?”

Minho scoffs, waving a hand. “Please, I don’t need you to cover for me. I’ve never been caught in my life.”

You snort. “Right. I’m sure all those broken lamps were ‘ghosts.’”

“Exactly,” he says without missing a beat. Then his tone shifts, conspiratorial, as he leans closer. “But this? This is bigger. I need your help to make sure Jisung loses No Nut November.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “That’s what this is about?”

“Duh,” Minho replies, grinning. “You’ve got insider access. You’re practically a double agent. Think of the chaos we could cause.”

You arch a brow at him, unimpressed. “And why the fuck would I help you?”

“Because,” he says smoothly, his grin widening, “I’ll split the winnings with you. Four hundred bucks for each of us. Think about it. Easy money.”

“Easy money?” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “This feels like a setup.”

Minho presses a hand to his chest, looking mock-offended. “You wound me, Y/N. I don’t need to scam you. I’m just here for the bragging rights.”

“Sure you are,” you say, picking up your tea again. “And what if Jisung finds out I’m helping you? You know he’s never gonna shut up about it.”

Minho shrugs, unbothered. “Let him whine. He’s already lost. You just have to speed up the inevitable.”

You take a long sip, letting the warmth of the tea settle in your chest. Minho watches you carefully, his red hair catching the dim light in uneven strands, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He��s serious, dead serious, but there’s that usual layer of smugness that makes you want to slap him and laugh at the same time.

“Fine,” you say finally, lowering your mug. “But if this backfires, you’re fucking dead.”

“Deal,” Minho says immediately, sticking out his hand. When you don’t take it, he drops it with a shrug. “You won’t regret this. Four hundred bucks and bragging rights. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And yet,” Minho counters, grinning like the cat that caught the fucking canary, “you always come through for me. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You groan, turning away from him to grab a tea bag from the box. “I’m starting to regret this already.”

“No, you’re not,” he says confidently, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. He crunches into it loudly, leaning casually against the counter as if he owns the place. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

“Fuck off, Minho,” you say again, but this time you’re smiling.

He winks at you, already backing out of the kitchen. “Remember, Y/N. Four hundred bucks. Don’t let me down.”

“Go to bed, you shithead,” you call after him, laughing softly as he disappears into the dark hallway.

The sound of his retreating footsteps fades, and you’re left alone in the quiet kitchen. The tea in your mug is cooling now, the faint hum of the kettle gone, replaced by the soft patter of rain on the windows. You shake your head to yourself, a small laugh escaping your lips.

You take another sip of tea, savouring the warmth, and let yourself imagine the absolute fucking disaster the next few weeks are bound to be.

Jisung slams his car door with more force than necessary, muttering a string of curses as his bag slides off his shoulder and hits the damp ground. “Fucking perfect,” he huffs, yanking it back up and trudging toward the Alpha Phi house.

The air is crisp, the remnants of last night’s storm lingering in the wet asphalt and the occasional dripping from the gutters. He doesn’t care. His head is pounding, his brain fried from a brutal day of back-to-back lectures, and the reminder email about his project deadline still burns in his inbox, taunting him.

Punching in the house code feels like an Olympic event, and the beep of the lock barely registers as he shoves the door open. Inside, chaos greets him like an old friend. Voices echo from the living room. Loud, competitive, definitely a FIFA match. Someone yells, “Fucking cheater!” and a loud thud follows. Jisung sighs, shaking his head as he drags himself toward the stairs.

“Home sweet fucking home,” he mutters under his breath, gripping the banister as he hauls himself up. His legs feel like lead, and all he wants is to collapse in his bed and sleep until finals are over or until the world ends, whichever comes first.

He reaches his room, pushing the door open, already yanking his sweatshirt over his head. The fabric catches on his silver hair, making it stick up even worse than usual, but he doesn’t care. He tosses it somewhere near his desk and looks up and freezes like a deer in headlights.

You’re on his bed, lying on your side, fast asleep. Your red lace-trimmed nightgown clings to your body like a second skin, the soft material pooling around your thighs. The thin straps barely sit on your shoulders, one having slipped down to reveal more skin than Jisung can handle looking at right now.

The dim light from his bedside lamp bathes you in a warm glow, catching on the curve of your collarbone, the dip of your waist, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Zak snores softly from his dog bed in the corner, blissfully unaware of Jisung’s internal crisis. The puppy’s legs twitch in his sleep, chasing whatever dream dogs have, and for a moment, Jisung envies the little shit. At least Zak doesn’t have to deal with the torture of you existing like this, looking like every wet dream Jisung’s ever had.

He closes the door as quietly as he can, leaning against it for support as his knees threaten to give out. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Okay, okay, get it together. You’re a grown-ass man. You’ve seen her in this before. It’s not a big fucking deal.”

But it is a big fucking deal, because it’s day eight of No Nut November, and his brain is turning to soup at the sight of you. He swallows hard, dragging his eyes away from you and staring at the ceiling instead.

“Feet,” he says to himself, trying to drown out the heat crawling up his neck. “Dirty, gross feet. Toenail fungus. Yeah. That’s disgusting. Uh… Chan’s sweaty gym towel. That’s nasty, right?”

The corner of his eye betrays him. He glances back at you, and it’s a fucking mistake. You shift slightly, your leg stretching out just enough for the lace trim of your nightgown to ride higher on your thigh. His mouth goes dry, and he bites his lip, hard enough to hurt.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, jagiya?” he whispers, dragging a hand down his face. “This is cruelty. Actual fucking cruelty.”

He starts pacing, his socked feet barely making a sound on the worn carpet. “Minho’s fucking smug face. Yeah, that’s gross. Him winning and rubbing it in my face forever. Fuck that guy. He’s not winning. I’m not losing to him. No fucking way.”

Zak shifts in his sleep, snorting softly, and Jisung glares at him like the puppy is in on the conspiracy. “Oh, sure, you get to sleep through this shit,” he mutters. “Meanwhile, I’m fighting for my goddamn life.”

His eyes flick back to you, again, because apparently, he’s a fucking masochist, and his pacing halts. The soft, steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair spills over his pillow like a halo, the gentle pout of your lips as you sleep. It’s too much. His heart pounds in his chest like a drum, and his jeans are officially too fucking tight.

“Fuck, no, no,” he mutters, resuming his pacing. “Chan’s unwashed jockstrap. Disgusting. So gross. Sweaty gym socks. That’s worse. Uh… Minho farting in his sleep. Fucking nightmare fuel.”

But nothing works. His mind keeps circling back to you, to the way you look so effortlessly perfect, so completely at ease in his bed. It’s infuriating. It’s torture. It’s everything he wants but can’t have, not for another twenty-two fucking days.

He collapses into his desk chair, spinning it away from the bed as if not looking at you will somehow solve his problem. Grabbing a pen, he starts scribbling nonsense on a blank page of his notebook, anything to keep his hands busy. “I’m an idiot. A horny fucking idiot.”

The sound of your soft breathing drifts to his ears again, and he freezes. Slowly, he turns his head, just in time to see you stretch slightly, the hem of your nightgown riding even higher. His grip on the pen tightens, his knuckles turning white.

“I’m fucked,” he whispers, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so fucking fucked.”

And it’s only day eight.

It’s day eleven, and Jisung is hanging on by a fucking thread.

He’s at his desk, headphones on, his laptop open to a blank Google Doc labeled Final Project. The blinking cursor taunts him, mocking his inability to focus, but it’s not the assignment that’s frying his brain.

It’s you. Lying there on his bed like some goddess of temptation, draped in black lace and blissful fucking ignorance, or, more likely, deliberate fucking malice. Jisung isn’t sure which one he prefers.

You’re sprawled on your stomach, completely absorbed in a paperback, the cover bent at the spine from the way you’re gripping it. Your legs kick lazily behind you, bare feet flexing as you shift every so often, and the lace hot pants you’re wearing are clinging to your ass in a way that should be criminal. The matching bralette doesn’t help either, thin straps digging into your shoulders, highlighting the line of your collarbone, the delicate curves of your body.

Jisung steals another glance, his eleventh in two minutes, and swears under his breath, dragging his eyes back to his screen. He adjusts his chair, angling it slightly away from the bed in a vain attempt to save himself. But you’re still in his peripheral vision, all soft curves and casual perfection, and it’s like trying to ignore the sun.

Focus. Journalism. Deadlines. Anything but her fucking legs.

“So,” he says finally, clearing his throat in a desperate bid to distract himself. His voice comes out embarrassingly hoarse. “What’s the book about?”

Without looking up, you flip a page and reply nonchalantly, “This girl who goes to a BDSM club and meets a Dom. He’s training her to be a submissive. Felix said I’d like it.”

Jisung chokes on absolutely nothing, coughing as his brain short-circuits. He rubs the back of his neck, heat creeping up the collar of his hoodie. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Sounds, uh, educational.”

“It is,” you say, completely fucking unfazed as you turn another page. “Right now, they’re practising shibari.”

Jisung presses his palm against his crotch on instinct, trying to will his dick into submission. The word conjures up all the wrong memories, your wrists tied to the headboard with his belt, the soft ropes he’d run down your thighs one night while you begged him to do more. The image is so vivid it feels like he’s there, the sounds of your breathy moans echoing in his head.

“Great!” he blurts out, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “Love that for them. Very… artistic. Super… cultural.”

You hum in agreement, your tone casual, but there’s something in the faint tilt of your lips, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him. Jisung’s grip tightens on his desk, his knuckles whitening as he fights the urge to look at you again.

“You okay over there?” you ask suddenly, your voice cutting through the silence like a fucking knife. When he looks up, you’re watching him, your gaze sharp and amused, the barest hint of a smirk curling your lips.

“Me?” he squeaks. He clears his throat, forcing a weak laugh as he spins his chair to hide his crotch from view. “Totally fine. Just, uh, thinking about deadlines. Journalism stuff. You know, very serious, not at all horny things.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, clearly not buying a word of it. You shake your head slightly, returning to your book with that same faint smirk that’s driving him out of his goddamn mind.

Jisung stares at his screen, forcing his eyes to stay there, but it’s a losing battle. Every movement you make, the way your legs shift just enough to reveal more of your thighs, the way your back arches slightly when you adjust your position, it’s fucking torture. He can feel the sweat on his palms, the heat prickling at the back of his neck, and he swears if he doesn’t leave now, he’s going to lose the bet, the pot, and his fucking dignity.

“I, uh, need water,” he says abruptly, standing so quickly his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. He bolts for the door, practically slamming it behind him, leaning back against it once he’s in the hallway.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, his body still on fire from the last ten minutes of torture.

“Jisung?” Your voice drifts faintly through the door, muffled but still teasing. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Totally fine!” he calls back, voice cracking again as he presses his hands to his overheated cheeks. “Just dehydrated! Gonna go hydrate!”

Your soft laugh floats through the wood, and he groans, pushing himself off the door to head for the kitchen. He needs water. Ice-cold water. And maybe an exorcism.

“Just nineteen fucking days,” he mutters to himself as he stalks down the hall. “You’ve got this. Don’t let her win. Don’t let her fucking win.”

But even as he reaches the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, the image of you sprawled across his bed, all lace and legs, refuses to leave his mind.

Nineteen days has never felt so fucking impossible.

The Alpha Phi house is eerily quiet as you pad downstairs, the faint creak of the stairs barely audible under the soft padding of your Winnie the Pooh slippers. The chill of the hardwood seeps through even their plush cushioning, but you ignore it, tugging the hem of your midnight blue nightgown down slightly. Not that it does much, the lace clings to your body like a second skin, the thigh-high slits swaying with every step. The cold doesn’t matter; the promise of tea and a few stolen moments of peace is worth it.

When you push open the kitchen door, the faint yellow light from the stove reveals a figure already waiting there. Minho leans casually against the counter, arms crossed, his red hair sticking up like he lost a fight with his pillow and didn’t bother fixing it.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a black hoodie, but the smirk plastered across his face gives him an aura of smug authority like he’s a villain in some low-budget spy film.

“Took you long enough,” he drawls, his voice soft but laced with amusement. “Thought you’d chickened out.”

You arch an eyebrow, stepping past him to the counter where the kettle waits. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve been lurking in the dark like some kind of horror movie villain.”

“Not lurking,” Minho corrects, pushing off the counter to sit on one of the stools at the island. “Strategizing. This is serious business.”

You fill the kettle with water, side-eyeing him. “Serious business? Are you starting a Ponzi scheme?”

“No,” he says, grinning. “Something better. Day eleven, Y/N. Four down, three more to go.”

You pause mid-pour, glancing over your shoulder. “Four? Already?”

“Changbin folded on day six. Hyunjin broke yesterday. Seungmin cracked this morning, and Jeongin, poor kid, lasted, like, ten seconds after that. Felix is next. I’ve been fucking with his algorithm so all he gets is porn ads. MILFs. Stepsisters. The works.” His grin widens, downright evil. “It’s only a matter of time.”

You laugh, flicking the kettle on and leaning against the counter. “You’re a menace. He’s gonna kill you.”

“Worth it,” Minho says smugly. “And Chan? He’s going down tonight.”

That catches your attention. Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cross your arms. “Chan? No fucking way. He’s supposed to be untouchable.”

Minho shrugs, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I called in a favour. His girlfriend’s helping me out. Dude’s toast.”

The kettle starts to hum, and you grab a mug, already smirking. “You’re like a goddamn Bond villain. What’s next? A cat and a monologue?”

Minho grins, resting his chin in his hand. “I’m saving the monologue for Jisung. He’s gonna break soon, thanks to you.”

You snort, grabbing a tea bag and dropping it into your mug. “He’s tougher than you think. I’ve been subtle, but he’s holding up.”

Minho’s smirk deepens. “Subtle, huh? That what you call lying in his bed reading BDSM erotica?”

Your lips twitch as you pour the boiling water into your mug. “Research,” you say, deadpan. “I’m helping him broaden his horizons.”

“Sure you are,” Minho drawls, drumming his fingers on the counter. “What’s the next phase of your master plan? Flashing him in Morse code?”

You sip your tea, the warmth soothing against the chill of the room, and pull your phone out of your pocket. “Red lace lingerie,” you say casually, scrolling to the photo of the set you ordered. You slide the phone across the counter to him.

Minho picks it up, and his eyes widen. “Holy fuck.” He slaps the counter, grinning like a maniac. “Crotchless panties? You’re a fucking genius.”

“And lollipops,” you add, sipping your tea. “The good ones, cherry and strawberry"

Minho barks out a laugh, standing abruptly and pulling you into a tight hug. “Y/N, you magnificent, evil, sexy mastermind. I love you.”

You laugh against his shoulder, half-heartedly patting his back. “Okay, calm the fuck down. You’re gonna dislocate something.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, pulling back and holding your shoulders dramatically. “You’re the best. I don’t deserve you.”

“You definitely don’t,” you agree, smirking. “But don’t celebrate yet. He’s stubborn.”

Minho’s grin sharpens, his eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s a man. And all men fall eventually.”

“You sound like a poster for villainy,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and heading for the door.

“Thank you,” Minho calls after you, following close behind. “It’s my life’s work.”

As you both step into the darkened hallway, the quiet hum of the house around you, there’s a shared gleam of determination in your eyes. Jisung’s resolve is strong, sure. But between you and Minho? That resolve is doomed.

Day fifteen of No Nut November feels like a cruel joke, and Jisung is living it. He trudges into the Alpha Phi house, his bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, the faint drone of an investigative journalism podcast still playing in one ear.

He tugs out the earbuds as the warmth of the house envelopes him, the smell of takeout lingering faintly in the air. His stomach growls loudly, and he follows the sound of voices toward the kitchen, praying there’s something left in the fridge.

As he steps into the kitchen, he freezes.

You’re leaning against the counter, legs crossed casually, wearing one of his hoodies that swallows you whole and a pair of shorts so tiny they might as well not exist. But it’s not the shorts that make his breath catch, it’s the goddamn lollipop in your hand.

Cherry red, glossy as fuck, it glistens under the dim light of the kitchen as you bring it to your lips. Your cheeks hollow as you suck on it, and the slow pull as you let it slide free makes his brain short-circuit. The wet sound it makes when it leaves your mouth feels louder than it should, and Jisung can feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

Across from you, Minho leans against the kitchen island, gesturing wildly as he speaks. His voice is animated, the sharp contrast to your calm, deliberate movements only adding to Jisung’s torment.

“I’m telling you, Anthony’s arc in season two is what every rom-com wishes it could be,” Minho says, slicing through the air with one hand for emphasis. “The tension. The angst. The man is a fucking masterpiece of repressed emotions.”

You nod, twirling the lollipop between your fingers like it’s a goddamn performance art piece. “True, but Kate? She’s everything. The way she completely dismantles him? Perfect.”

Minho claps his hands together, pointing at you. “Exactly! She’s not just a love interest, she’s a fucking force of nature.”

“And Bridgerton’s not even my thing,” you add, rolling the lollipop over your tongue like you’re savouring every second. “But that season? Art.”

Jisung swallows hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He forces himself to move, heading toward the fridge like it’s his only lifeline, but every movement you make draws his eyes back to you. The way your lips purse, the subtle pop as the candy leaves your mouth, the faint glint of red on your tongue. It’s a sensory fucking overload.

“Jagiya,” he says, his voice rough, barely masking the tension simmering under the surface. “What’s going on in here?”

You glance up, all wide eyes and faux innocence, like you’re not killing him one suck at a time. “Just talking Bridgerton. Minho finally convinced me to binge it with him.”

“Changed her life,” Minho adds with an exaggerated nod. “Changed mine, too, honestly. You’ve gotta watch it, man.”

Jisung barely registers the words as he yanks open the fridge, desperate for a distraction. “Uh-huh,” he mutters, rummaging aimlessly. “I’ll… check it out.”

Before he can decide between the last sad slice of pizza and some questionable-looking noodles, chaos erupts from the living room.

“Zak’s got my fucking shoe!” Jeongin’s panicked voice echoes down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of paws skidding on hardwood and a low, playful growl.

“Shit,” Jisung curses, slamming the fridge shut and dropping his bag. “Not again.” He turns on his heel, bolting out of the kitchen. “Zak! No! Drop it, you little shit!”

As his shouts fade into the distance, you and Minho exchange a look, your lips twitching as you try to hold back your laughter. The moment the front door slams shut, Minho breaks first, his grin splitting wide.

“This is too fucking good,” he says, holding out a hand. You slap your palm against his in a victorious high-five.

“Too easy,” you agree, popping the lollipop back into your mouth with a slow swirl. “Fifteen days in, and the guy’s fucking unravelling.”

“Crotchless panties, lollipops, and Bridgerton,” Minho muses, shaking his head in admiration. “You’re a fucking evil genius.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you say, smirking as you lean back against the counter.

Minho leans closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You really think he’s gonna make it another fifteen days?”

“Not a fucking chance,” you reply with a laugh. “He’s hanging on by a thread.”

From down the hall, Jisung’s voice booms. “Zak! Get back here, you little asshole! Jeongin, fucking grab him!”

You and Minho dissolve into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen as you both lean against the counter, barely able to breathe. Zak’s playful barks and Jeongin’s exasperated shouts add to the cacophony, and you shake your head, already plotting the next step in the slow, delicious dismantling of Han Jisung’s self-control.

Minho grins, lifting an imaginary glass. “To the fall of Han Jisung. May it be dramatic and horny as fuck.”

You clink your lollipop against his raised hand like it’s a toast, laughing as the chaos continues in the background.

Day eighteen, and Jisung feels like he’s at war. With himself, with his body, with you. Especially you.

He sits at his desk, staring at the screen of his laptop, the cursor blinking accusingly at him from an unfinished article. The words on the page blur together, his focus long since obliterated by weeks of tension, frustration, and sheer stubborn determination to see this thing through. His head rests in his hands, fingers tugging at his silver hair as he groans softly.

The sound of running water from the bathroom shuts off, and a few seconds later, your voice carries through the partially open door. Soft, teasing, fucking lethal. “Jisung? Can you come here for a sec?”

His stomach tightens at the sound of your voice. He lifts his head slowly, blinking blearily at the bathroom door like it might bite him. “Yeah, jagiya,” he calls back, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and too much fantasizing. “What’s up?”

There’s a brief pause before you respond, your tone light but with that playful edge that makes his nerves fray. “Do I look okay in this?”

His chest tightens as alarm bells go off in his head. “What the fuck does she mean by this?” He swivels in his chair just as the bathroom door swings open, and his breath hitches violently in his throat.

You step into the room like a goddamn vision, leaning lazily against the doorframe, the silk of your red robe gleaming in the soft light. It’s barely tied, just loose enough to offer a maddening glimpse of what lies beneath. Red lace lingerie. The sheer fabric clings to you, teasing every curve, and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Almost.

But it’s not just the outfit. It’s the way you look at him, head tilted slightly, a small, knowing smile curling your lips. Like you’re perfectly aware of the chaos you’re causing. Like you’re daring him to do something about it.

“Fuck,” Jisung mutters under his breath, the word barely audible. His throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper, and his eyes flicker helplessly between your face and the barely-there lace. “Are those… Are those panties crotchless?”

You tilt your head, your smile widening, and his stomach clenches painfully. “Yep,” you say simply, popping the p like it’s a punchline.

He drags a hand down his face, groaning. “Jesus fucking Christ, jagiya.” His voice is strained, low, his usual wit nowhere to be found. “You’re fucking killing me.”

“Am I?” you reply, feigning innocence as your fingers brush the tie of the robe. You loosen it slightly, the silk parting just enough to make his dick throb painfully against the confines of his jeans. “You look a little tense.”

“Tense?” Jisung barks out a sharp laugh, but it sounds more like a gasp. “I’m fucking dying over here.”

You take a step closer, your bare feet making no sound on the floor. His chair creaks slightly as he leans back, as if putting more distance between you will save him. It doesn’t. “Remember,” you murmur, trailing a hand down the edge of your robe, “there are only twenty-nine days in November.”

He stares at you, his eyes wide, his jaw tight. “Eleven days,” he whispers, the words shaky. He nods, more to himself than to you, as if it’s a mantra. “Just eleven days left.”

“Only eleven,” you say sweetly, stepping close enough that he can smell the faint, intoxicating trace of your perfume.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his cheek lightly before you step past him like it’s nothing. He watches, completely frozen, as you walk to his bed, the silk of your robe swaying with each step, offering him maddening glimpses of lace and bare skin.

You climb onto the bed, tugging the blankets up around you like the fucking angel of temptation, and settle in with a soft sigh. Adjusting your eye mask, you mumble, “Goodnight, Ji,” like you didn’t just turn his entire world inside out.

Zak pads over from the corner, circling in his dog bed before flopping down with a contented snuffle. The room falls quiet again, save for the faint hum of the heater and the sound of your breathing, steady and soft.

Jisung doesn’t move. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at you as if you might disappear if he looks away. His chest heaves, his palms sweaty against the armrests of his chair. His jeans are too fucking tight, and his head feels like it’s filled with static.

“Twenty-nine days,” he mutters to himself, still staring at the bed. “I just have to make it eleven more days”

The words hang in the air, unchallenged, as he finally drags himself out of the chair and collapses face-first onto the bed next to you. His brain is too fried to catch the glaring error in his thoughts. November has thirty days.

It’s midnight on day twenty-one, and the Alpha Phi house is cloaked in stillness. The creaks and groans of the old floorboards echo faintly through the empty halls, a reminder of just how old and lived-in the building is. Upstairs, Jisung lies face down on his bed, the thin black eye mask he’s taken to wearing crooked over his face. His breaths are deep, steady, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest the only movement in the room.

But even in sleep, his body is tense, his hands clutching the edge of his blanket like a lifeline. His subconscious knows, just as his waking mind does, that you are his undoing. One slip, one more calculated move on your part, and he’s fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. The quiet hum of the heater mingles with the soft clink of mugs and the occasional burst of muffled laughter. You and Minho are stationed near the counter, shoulders nearly brushing as you conspire under the faint yellow light of the stove. You’re wearing one of Jisung’s hoodies, the oversized fabric hanging off one shoulder, and a pair of fuzzy socks. Casual, innocent. Except the glint in your eye betrays you.

Minho leans against the counter, his red hair dishevelled in a way that’s more chaotic than usual, his expression half-amused, half-exasperated. He stares into his mug like it holds the answer to life’s greatest mysteries. “Why the fuck isn’t he out yet?” he mutters, his voice pitched low but tinged with frustration. “It’s day twenty-one, for fuck’s sake. I’ve seen weaker men fold over less.”

You smirk, swirling the tea in your mug before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Because,” you say with a calmness that only fuels Minho’s disbelief, “I made him think there are only twenty-nine days in November.”

Minho’s head jerks up, his brows furrowed as the words register. He stares at you like you’ve grown another head. “Wait, what?”

You tilt your head, your grin widening. “He thinks November has twenty-nine days. He’s counting down to the thirtieth like it’s December first.”

For a beat, Minho says nothing, his lips parting slightly as the full weight of your scheming hits him. Then, he lets out a low, incredulous laugh, doubling over and clutching the edge of the counter. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” he says, shaking his head. “A diabolical, evil little bitch. I love it.”

“Diabolical, sure. Evil? Maybe.” You shrug one shoulder, looking smug as you lean back against the counter. “But effective.”

Minho slaps his palm against the counter, laughter bubbling up again. “You’re telling me this poor bastard is going to count down to the thirtieth thinking he’s free, and instead he’s gonna…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely with his mug.

“Rail me into next week,” you finish for him, deadpan, the corners of your lips twitching. “Yep.”

Minho’s laughter explodes into the stillness, and he has to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound. His shoulders shake as he struggles to catch his breath. “Holy fucking shit,” he wheezes, wiping at his mouth. “You’re a monster.”

“A monster who gets results,” you counter, raising your mug in a mock toast. “Jisung’s gonna lose. We're getting our money. You're getting bragging rights. I’m getting railed. Everyone wins.”

“Except Jisung,” Minho points out, grinning wickedly.

You wave a hand dismissively. “He’ll get over it. And by get over it, I mean he’ll be too busy thanking me for the best night of his life to care.”

Minho leans back against the counter, clutching his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “You’re fucking unreal,” he says, shaking his head. “We should get married. You, me, unstoppable force. Absolute chaos.”

You arch a brow, smirking. “The world would implode.”

“Worth it,” he shoots back without missing a beat. “We’d conquer everything. Political coups? Easy. Social manipulation? Please.”

“World domination?” you offer, tilting your mug toward him.

“To chaos,” Minho declares, his grin stretching wide.

“To schemes,” you reply, your voice laced with laughter.

The sound of your quiet chuckles mingles with the distant hum of the heater. Upstairs, Jisung shifts in his sleep, as if some part of him knows the forces conspiring against him. But for now, the house settles back into quiet. Only the faint glint of mischief in both your eyes hints at the storm still to come.

Jisung’s room is dark, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlight sneaking through the blinds, casting long, uneven shadows across the walls. The heater hums softly, and the faint tick-tock of the clock on the wall keeps a steady rhythm, mocking him with every passing second.

Jisung lies flat on his back, his body rigid, tension coiled tight as a spring. The black eye mask he usually relies on is shoved up onto his forehead, forgotten in his hyper-focused state. He stares at the glowing digits of his bedside clock, willing them to change, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself still.

11:59 PM.

He mutters under his breath, his fists clenching the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Come on, come on,” he whispers, his voice rough.

His eyes flick to you. You’re lying beside him, curled on your side, your face soft and peaceful in sleep. One of his oversized T-shirts swallows your body, but the hem has ridden up just enough to reveal the curve of your thighs, and the sight makes his throat dry. He has to look away, his fingers twitching against the blanket.

12:00 AM.

Jisung’s entire body tenses. He feels it like a shift in the air like he’s been released from some invisible chain, and all he can think about is you. The past twenty-nine days flash in his mind like a slideshow: the lingerie, the teasing and the lollipops.

12:01 AM.

The dam breaks.

He moves faster than he’s thought about it, the blanket thrown off in one swift motion as he straddles you, pinning you beneath him with an almost feral energy. You let out a startled gasp, your eyes fluttering open as his hands wrap around your wrists, pressing them firmly above your head.

“Hands up,” he says, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. His silver hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles, his chest heaving as he stares down at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, and his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’ve had your fun, jagiya. Now it’s my fucking turn.”

You blink up at him, your voice breathless and tinged with confusion. “Jisung? What—?”

“No talking,” he cuts you off, his voice a low rasp as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “It’s December. You’ve been fucking torturing me for four weeks, and I’ve waited long enough.”

Before you can say another word, his mouth finds your neck, hot and insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He bites down, harder than usual, making you gasp as heat floods your body. His tongue flicks out to soothe the sting, but he doesn’t stop. He trails down to your collarbone, nipping and sucking until your skin blooms with colour.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. His fingers dig in, holding you in place as you instinctively arch beneath him. “Do you know how many nights I lay here, staring at you, trying not to lose my fucking mind?”

“Jisung-” you start, but the words dissolve into a sharp gasp as his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder. His lips are relentless, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and marks down your chest.

“You’re not allowed to talk. Not tonight, jagiya. Tonight, you’re mine.”

His hands roam beneath your shirt, sliding over your waist, his touch searing against your skin. The tension in his movements is almost frantic, a desperate edge to the way his fingers curl into your flesh. He lifts the hem of your shirt, his eyes flickering down to take in the soft curve of your stomach, the bare expanse of skin he’s been craving.

“You drove me fucking insane,” he mutters, his lips tracing along your jaw. “The lace. The lollipops.”

“Did I?”

Jisung freezes for a split second, his eyes narrowing as he pulls back to look at you. “Oh, you little fucking brat,” he says, his grip tightening on your wrists. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, you’d be begging right now.”

“Big words,” you murmur, your voice laced with amusement. “You sure you’ve got the stamina after four weeks?”

His jaw tightens, and he smirks down at you, his expression dark and dangerous. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of stamina, jagiya. I’m just deciding how long I want to make you wait.”

His words send a thrill down your spine, but you manage to keep your composure, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You better make it worth the wait, then.”

Jisung’s response is a low, guttural growl as he leans down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so demanding it steals the air from your lungs. His hands release your wrists to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, until the world around you fades into nothing.

Across the room, Zak lets out a soft snore, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just feet away.

And as Jisung pulls back to nip at your bottom lip, his voice rough with satisfaction, he mutters, “Twenty-nine days without sex. Never fucking again.”

You bite back a grin, your heart racing as he presses his forehead against yours, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats. He still doesn’t realize.

There’s one more day left.

The clock strikes three, the Alpha Phi house cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wooden beams. The world outside is pitch-black, the kind of stillness that feels like a held breath.

Upstairs, in the aftermath of chaos, Jisung is dead to the world, sprawled across the bed like a man utterly wrecked. His silver hair sticks to his forehead, his skin glistening faintly in the dim light from the bedside lamp. The sheets are tangled around his legs, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm so steady it almost feels mocking.

You, however, are not wrecked. Not completely, anyway. No, you’re moving, albeit gingerly, your limbs protesting with every step.

The oversized T-shirt you’ve thrown on hangs loosely over your frame, brushing against the constellation of hickies blooming across your neck and collarbones. His boxers sit low on your hips, the waistband twisted from how carelessly you pulled them on. You wince as you descend the stairs, your thighs trembling just enough to remind you of what the past three hours have cost you.

The kitchen light is already on when you step inside, a soft, golden glow casting long shadows across the room. Minho is leaning against the counter, a mug in hand, his red hair an absolute disaster. He looks up when you enter, his expression shifting instantly into a wicked grin.

“You’re alive,” he greets, his voice low and gleeful. “Barely, but alive.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, collapsing into a chair at the island. You let out a low groan, adjusting yourself with exaggerated care. The movement pulls another sharp wince from you, and Minho’s grin only widens.

“Oh, my God,” he says, his voice laced with mock horror as he gestures toward you with his mug. “You’re walking like a goddamn baby deer. Did he break you?”

You flip him off without looking, grabbing the steaming mug he slides toward you. “If I didn’t need this tea so badly, I’d throw it in your fucking face.”

Minho laughs, the sound sharp and unapologetic as he leans forward, inspecting you like a scientist examining a particularly amusing specimen. “You got absolutely mauled, didn’t you?” He gestures vaguely to your neck, his smirk bordering on obscene. “Holy shit. He really went for it.”

You sip your tea, the warmth soothing your raw throat as you scowl. “He thinks it’s December first. He acted like he just got out of a fucking chastity belt.”

“Well,” Minho says, straightening up with a shrug. “Technically, he did. Self-imposed, but still.” He pauses, tilting his head as his eyes scan the array of purpling marks dotting your skin. “You look like you got in a fight with a vampire and lost.”

You sigh dramatically, rolling your head back to stare at the ceiling. “He was…enthusiastic.”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “Enthusiastic? You’re walking funny, for Christ’s sake. What’d he do? Hit you with a jackhammer?”

You snort into your tea, shaking your head. “Three hours. Three. Hours. I should’ve negotiated hazard pay.”

Minho lets out a bark of laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth to keep it down. His eyes sparkle with unrestrained delight as he leans across the counter. “And you let him go the whole time, knowing there’s still one more day left. You’re a fucking menace.”

You shrug, smirking into your mug. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy myself.”

Minho groans, slumping against the counter like he’s personally offended. “You’re the worst person I know, and I love you for it.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” you shoot back, sticking your tongue out.

“True,” Minho admits, his grin sharp as ever. He raises his mug in a mock toast. “To chaos. And to you, the evil genius who turned No Nut November into a fucking art form.”

“To my poor vagina,” you mutter, clinking your mug against his.

“To your poor vagina,” he echoes solemnly, before breaking into laughter again. “But hey, at least we’re both four hundred dollars richer.”

“And he’s clueless,” you add, sipping your tea with a smirk. “He’s upstairs, probably dreaming about how he ‘won’ the month. Meanwhile, I’ve got a twenty-four-hour ticking time bomb.”

Minho shakes his head, his grin softening into something almost admiring. “You’re a fucking trooper. A lunatic, but a trooper.”

You groan as you adjust in your chair again, the ache in your thighs flaring up. “If I never move again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Hey, if he comes looking for round two, just scream for help,” Minho says, his tone half-serious. “I’ll grab a fire extinguisher.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “If he comes looking for round two, I’m throwing you at him. You can fend him off.”

“Deal,” Minho says. “But only after I tell him he lost.”

The two of you share a conspiratorial grin, the quiet kitchen filled with the warmth of shared victory. Upstairs, Jisung snores softly, blissfully unaware of the truth lurking in the shadows. Down here, you and Minho toast to his downfall, savoring every second of the calm before the final storm.

Morning light spills through the Alpha Phi kitchen window, painting everything in soft, golden hues. The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock and the muffled hum of the refrigerator.

Jisung shuffles in, his T-shirt rumpled from sleep, his silver hair sticking out at odd angles like he’s been wrestling his pillow all night. Zak trots at his heels, his tail wagging lazily as he sniffs around before padding to the back door.

Jisung yawns loudly, scratching the back of his head as he unlatches the door and lets Zak out into the garden. “Go on, buddy,” he mutters, his voice heavy with sleep. “Do your thing.”

The puppy bounds into the yard, and Jisung shuts the door with a soft click, turning toward the coffee machine like it’s his lifeline. He grabs a mug from the cabinet, barely registering Minho leaning against the counter, his red hair dishevelled and his grin obnoxiously wide.

“Morning, champ,” Minho greets, his tone thick with smug amusement.

Jisung blinks at him, his expression blank as his sleep-fogged brain processes the sound. “Morning,” he mumbles back, spooning coffee grounds into the machine. He leans heavily against the counter, waiting for the drip to start, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at nothing in particular.

Minho sips from his mug, watching him with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes. “Rough night?” he asks innocently, swirling the tea in his cup like he’s plotting something.

Jisung snorts, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “You could say that. She’s still out cold.”

Minho lets out a low whistle, setting his mug down with exaggerated care. “Oh, I bet she is,” he says, his voice practically dripping with innuendo. “You two were loud as fuck last night. Thought the walls were gonna cave in.”

Jisung’s face reddens further, and he glares weakly at Minho. “Could you not? It’s too early for your bullshit.”

Minho grins wider, pulling out his phone. “Oh, don’t worry. This is gonna wake you up real quick.” He taps the screen a few times before holding it up, his smirk downright wicked. “Check it out.”

Jisung squints at the screen, his brow furrowing. The bold numbers on the display are unmistakable. 30th of November. He stares, his mind moving sluggishly as he tries to make sense of it.

“Wait,” he says, his voice slow, thick with confusion. “That can’t be right. There’s… twenty-nine days in November, right? Leap year or something?”

Minho freezes, his grin widening into something feral before he bursts out laughing. The sound is sharp and sudden, echoing through the quiet kitchen as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. “Oh my fucking god,” he wheezes, sliding halfway down the counter. “You’re serious? Holy shit- When she said- I thought-”

Jisung frowns, his confusion giving way to irritation. “Why the fuck are you laughing?” he demands, his voice tinged with suspicion. “What’s so funny?”

Minho wipes tears from his eyes, taking a steadying breath before straightening up. He sets his phone down, shaking his head in disbelief. “You, dumbass,” he says, his voice still shaking with laughter. “You got played so fucking hard.”

Jisung crosses his arms, his frown deepening. “Played?” His voice rises with incredulity. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Minho leans closer, his grin pure chaos. “Your girlfriend,” he says, drawing out the words like he’s savouring them. “She fucking got you. All those little outfits, all the teasing, all the bullshit about November having twenty-nine days? That was all her plan.”

Jisung stares at him, his jaw slack as the pieces slowly fall into place. “No way,” he mutters, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t-”

“Oh, she would,” Minho interrupts gleefully. “And she did. And the best part? It wasn’t even my idea, all I wanted was for her to make you lose. She came up with the whole thing herself. I just sat back and watched her turn you into a horny fucking wreck.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens, his face cycling through disbelief, frustration, and begrudging admiration. “So you’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that all those nights you two spent drinking tea in the kitchen were-”

“Exactly what you thought they were,” Minho says smugly. “Strategizing. She played you like a fucking fiddle.”

Jisung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You two are the absolute worst.”

“Don’t lie,” Minho counters, smirking as he picks up his mug again. “You love it. Besides, you’re not even mad, are you? Not after last night.”

Jisung glares at him, though his ears burn red. “I should be pissed.”

“But you’re not,” Minho says, leaning back against the counter with a satisfied sigh. “Because you had a fucking night. Admit it—she wrecked you just as much as you wrecked her.”

Jisung shakes his head, a reluctant laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe she did all that for you.”

“For us,” Minho corrects, his grin softening slightly. “She got what she wanted, I got what I wanted, and you got the ride of your fucking life. Everyone’s happy.”

Jisung pours his coffee, stirring in sugar and cream, and takes a long sip before sighing. “You’re right. I’m not mad. I’m impressed.” He glances at Minho, his eyes narrowing. “But you’re still a smug little shit.”

Minho raises his mug in a toast, his grin sharper than ever. “To evil geniuses. And to Y/N, the queen of playing the long game.”

Jisung shakes his head, chuckling as he clinks his mug against Minho’s.

The Alpha Phi house is buzzing with noise and energy, the lazy chaos of a Saturday afternoon after a night of absolute madness. The living room is packed with bodies, sprawled across couches, beanbags, and the carpet, half-eaten takeout containers scattered across the coffee table alongside cans of beer and soda. Someone’s playlist hums softly in the background, but the real noise comes from the laughter and shit-talking ricocheting around the room.

Jisung sits slumped in a beanbag chair, arms crossed, his silver hair still sticking out at wild angles from sleep. He’s been subjected to nonstop teasing for the past few hours, and his pout grows deeper with every passing second. Zak is curled up at his feet, snoozing contentedly, oblivious to the chaos Jisung is enduring.

The sound of shuffling steps draws everyone’s attention to the staircase. You appear, dressed in one of Jisung’s oversized shirts that barely grazes your thighs, a pair of his boxers peeking out underneath. Your eye mask sits pushed up into your messy hair, and your trusty Winnie the Pooh slippers complete the look. Hickies bloom across your neck and collarbones, vivid and unapologetic, like badges of honour.

As soon as you step into the living room, the house explodes.

Whistles, applause, and cheers erupt from every corner of the room. Changbin pounds his fists against the couch arm like he’s at a sports game, while Felix claps loudly, grinning like he just saw the winning goal. Minho practically howls, throwing his head back with laughter, and Jeongin is doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“There she is!” Minho shouts, his grin devilish as he gestures toward you. “The queen of fucking chaos! The woman who broke Han Jisung and made him think there were twenty-nine days in November!”

Jisung groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all the fucking worst,” he mutters, his voice muffled.

You yawn, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffle into the centre of the room. “Thank you, thank you,” you say. “I’d like to thank Jisung for not knowing how to use Google.”

Seungmin points at you, snickering. “Genius wasted on him,” he says, shaking his head. “Poor girl.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests, sitting up straighter in his beanbag chair. “You’re all supposed to be on my side.”

“No one’s on your side, dumbass,” Chan says. “You fucked up.”

You laugh softly, shuffling toward the kitchen, only for Chan to intercept you with a steaming mug of coffee. He hands it to you with a wink. “For our resident mastermind.”

“Bless you,” you murmur, taking the mug and sinking into the couch with a sigh. The warmth of the coffee soothes your raw throat, and you lean back into the cushions, your body finally beginning to relax.

Felix sprawls on the floor, his head propped up on a throw pillow. “Honestly? Totally worth it,” he says, grinning. “The three hours of sex noises were a lot, but watching Jisung implode this morning made up for it.”

Jisung points an accusing finger at him, his cheeks red. “You lost to porn ads! You don’t get to talk!”

Felix raises a brow, unbothered. “At least I know how many days are in November, dumbass.”

Minho cackles, leaning forward to slap his knee. “Felix, I’m the one who fucked with your algorithm. Those ‘hot MILFs in your area’ ads? All me.”

Felix’s jaw drops. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“You’re welcome,” Minho replies smugly. He turns his attention to Chan, smirking. “And you? Don’t act all superior. Your girlfriend took you out.”

Chan shrugs, completely unbothered. “She was wearing black lace. I'm just a man”

Minho dissolves into laughter, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. He counts out four crisp hundred-dollar bills and tosses them into your lap. “Your cut, mastermind.”

You grin, holding up the money like a trophy. “I’d like to thank Jisung’s inability to resist crotchless panties for this award and his inability to read a calendar,” you announce, earning another round of cheers and whistles.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jisung mutters, sinking deeper into his beanbag chair. “You’re all fucking traitors.”

Changbin leans forward, squinting at the marks on your neck. “What the fuck did you do to her, man? She looks like she got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner.”

Jeongin reaches over, poking a particularly dark hickey on your collarbone. “Does it hurt?”

You swat his hand away, laughing. “Not as much as my legs.”

Jisung smirks, leaning back with a hint of smugness returning to his face. “What can I say? I’m thorough.”

Felix groans dramatically, snatching a cold compress from the coffee table and pressing it to your neck. “Jisung, she looks like she got mauled by a fucking tiger.”

“Nah,” Minho says, his grin sharp. “Just a man who thought he’d escaped No Nut November.”

Jisung glares at him but can’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips. “I hate you all,” he says, though his tone is lighter than it should be.

“And we love you,” Minho shoots back, raising his mug in a toast. “To Han Jisung’s sheer, unbridled stupidity.”

You clink your mug against his, laughing as the room erupts once more into cheers.

Jisung remains slouched in the beanbag chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His silver hair is still a mess, and his pout deepens with every new “evil genius” compliment directed at you. The teasing isn’t letting up, and Minho, grinning like he’s won the lottery, is the ringleader.

“I’m telling you,” Hyunjin says. “If Y/N ever decides to quit her major, she should go into professional scheming. She’s fucking wasted on Jisung.”

“Hey!” Jisung sits up in his beanbag, pointing an accusing finger at Hyunjin. His pout deepens, and his glare is somewhere between half-hearted and genuinely offended. “You’re supposed to be my friends, you assholes!”

Jeongin, sprawled out on the floor with a throw pillow under his head, snickers loudly, stretching his legs out. “We are your friends. That’s why we’re making fun of you.”

“You walked into this, man,” Felix says, his tone almost pitying. “You let your girlfriend outsmart you for four weeks straight. How the fuck are we not supposed to make fun of you?”

“Because I didn’t let her outsmart me!” Jisung fires back, his voice climbing an octave in his frustration. “I didn’t know—” He cuts himself off, realizing mid-sentence how dumb he sounds, and slumps back into the beanbag with a loud groan. “Oh, fuck you guys.”

Hyunjin snickers, flicking a stray lock of hair out of his face. “It’s okay, Ji,” he says mockingly, his tone dripping with faux sympathy. “We’re just impressed that Y/N did it so flawlessly. She’s like the fucking Ocean’s Eleven of frat house fuckery. She's wasted on you"

“She’s wasted on me?” Jisung retorts, sitting up straighter again. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend to even try something like that with.”

“Oh, burn,” Felix mutters, grinning as Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharpening.

“Not jealous,” Hyunjin counters smoothly, his tone calm and cutting. “I’m just saying, if Y/N ever wants to stage a hostile takeover of, like, the world? I’d be her first investor.”

Chan nods, barely hiding his grin. “Honestly, Ji? I think we’re all a little scared of her now.”

“You should be,” Minho chimes in, lounging on the opposite couch with his legs stretched out. He tilts his head toward you, his smirk full of pride. “She’s terrifying. And brilliant. A dangerous combo.”

You take a slow sip of your coffee, glancing around the room with a small, satisfied smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Jisung groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, my fucking god, stop inflating her ego!”

“Too late,” Jeongin says, laughing as he sits up. “It’s already huge. And honestly? Deserved.”

“Fucking traitors,” Jisung mutters, crossing his arms tightly over his chest like a sulking child. His silver hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, and his pout deepens as the laughter around him refuses to die down. Zak nudges Jisung’s leg with a cold, wet nose, his tail wagging furiously.

Jisung glances down, his expression softening slightly. “What? You need to go out?” he asks, his tone still tinged with exasperation.

Zak doesn’t bark, but his answer comes in the form of a wide, excited circle, his little body vibrating with uncontainable energy. Unfortunately, that energy is paired with something far less charming. As Zak zips around the room, a trail of golden piss sprays in his wake.

“Zak!” Jisung yells, sitting bolt upright as the puppy makes another lap, oblivious to the chaos he’s leaving behind. “No! No, no, no, stop!”

The room erupts into absolute pandemonium. Seungmin doubles over, clutching his stomach as tears stream down his face. Hyunjin falls off the arm of the couch. Felix has to grip the side of the couch for support as he gasps for air, his face red from laughing so hard.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin chokes out, his voice high-pitched and wheezing. “Look at him go!”

“It’s like Fast and Furious: Puppy Piss Drift,” Changbin howls, barely managing to get the words out before another fit of laughter overtakes him.

You bury your face in your hands, your body shaking with uncontrollable laughter. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to catch your breath. “Jisung,” you manage between gasps, “this is your problem.”

Jisung groans, his head falling back in defeat. “This is your dog!” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You clean this shit up!”

Felix, still leaning against the couch arm, grins like the Cheshire Cat. “The poor girl can barely walk because you railed her for three hours last night, Jisung. You break the vagina? You clean the dog piss.”

“Facts,” Minho chimes in, his grin wicked as he sprawls across the opposite couch. “Do your fucking job, loser. Clean it up, piss boy.”

Jisung glares at Minho, muttering curses under his breath as he drags himself out of the beanbag chair. “You’re all assholes,” he grumbles, stomping toward the kitchen. He yanks a roll of paper towels and a bottle of antibacterial spray from the counter before stomping back into the living room, his expression pure misery.

Meanwhile, Chan scoops Zak up, cradling the wriggling puppy against his chest. “Come on, little guy,” he says soothingly, heading toward the back door. “Let’s go outside where peeing doesn’t make everyone hate you.”

Zak licks Chan’s chin in response, his tail wagging like he’s just won a prize.

Jisung crouches down, surveying the damage with a look of sheer horror. “Oh my god,” he says, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. “It’s everywhere. It’s in the fucking floorboards!”

This sets everyone off again. Minho nearly slides off his seat entirely, clutching at the armrest as he howls with laughter. “Scrub faster, piss boy!” he shouts, pointing at Jisung like a ringleader at a circus.

“Don’t forget the corners!” Jeongin adds, his grin so wide it looks painful. “You missed a spot near the couch.”

Hyunjin wipes tears from his eyes, his face flushed as he sits up from where he collapsed on the floor. “Just use the mop on your head,” he says, smirking. “That shit you call hair has to be good for something.”

Jisung pauses mid-scrub to glare at Hyunjin, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and fury. “I hate all of you,” he mutters darkly, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward despite himself.

“You’re not even scrubbing hard enough,” Felix teases, leaning forward with a grin. “Put some fucking elbow grease into it. Come on, show us that stamina from last night.”

“Fuck you, Felix,” Jisung snaps, though his voice cracks slightly as laughter bubbles up unbidden. He shakes his head, muttering as he sprays more cleaner onto the floor. “You’re all dead to me. Every last one of you.”

“Aw, poor Jisung,” Chan says as he walks back into the room, Zak now happily sniffing a chew toy. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a proper memorial after you die of shame.”

“You guys are lucky I’m still in this frat,” Jisung grumbles. “Otherwise, I’d burn this whole place down.”

Minho cackles, throwing an arm over Jeongin’s shoulder as he leans back. “You’d probably set yourself on fire in the process, piss boy.”

“You’re all dead to me,” Jisung mutters, spraying the floor with enough antibacterial cleaner to kill any and all germs within a ten-mile radius. He furiously scrubs at the puddle Zak left behind with a handful of paper towels, his movements sharp and exaggerated. “This is the worst fucking day of my life. My girlfriend, my girlfriend, deceived me, made me believe there were twenty-nine days in November, I lost No Nut November to Minho of all people, and now I’m on my hands and knees cleaning up my girlfriend’s dog’s piss. On my hands and knees, scrubbing up puppy piss. What the actual fuck.”

The room erupts into fresh laughter, Minho practically rolling off the couch as he gasps for air. Hyunjin leans back against the armrest, clutching his stomach as tears stream down his face. Jisung groans dramatically, spraying more cleaner onto the floor.

“Fuck all of you. I don’t deserve this. I should be in bed. But no, here I am, cleaning up Zak’s liquid fucking shame while you assholes laugh at my misery.”

Despite the grumbling, his eyes keep drifting toward you. You’re curled up on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, wearing his oversized T-shirt like it’s made just for you. Your head is thrown back in laughter, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes crinkle at the corners every time Minho cracks another joke. The sound of your laugh fills the room, soft but bright, and something warm curls in Jisung’s chest, cutting through his annoyance.

He catches himself smiling, and it pisses him off even more, but not enough to stop. Each time he glances at you, his lips twitch upward, betraying the fondness he’s trying to keep under wraps. By the time he’s scrubbing at the last of the mess, his grumbles have turned into soft chuckles, and his scowl has softened into something undeniably warm.

“Jagiya,” he calls out, his voice carrying a teasing edge now, his earlier frustration melting away. “You’re lucky I fucking love you.”

You glance over, your smile widening as your eyes meet his. Mischief sparkles in your gaze, and you tilt your head. “Oh, I know,” you reply smoothly, your tone as smug as it is sweet.

Jisung shakes his head, chuckling under his breath as he scrubs at the final streak. “Fucking worth it,” he mutters to himself, his grin lingering as he watches you laugh again. You’re glowing, surrounded by the teasing chaos, and the sight makes his chest ache in the best way.

“I say we just blame Jisung,” Seungmin pipes up from the armchair, his face blank but his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If the house ends up smelling like piss forever, we just say Jisung lost his shit. Like, literally. Pissed everywhere in a fit of frustration.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, slapping the couch cushion beside him. “Yeah, like Jisung got so sexually frustrated during No Nut November that he just snapped. Whipped out his dick and started pissing on the floor.”

The room descends into chaos again, the laughter deafening as Minho gasps, “Marking his territory! Alpha Phi’s new mascot, Piss Boy!”

Felix doubles over, choking on his laughter. “Someone get him a leash! He and Zak can take turns on the fire hydrant.”

Jisung glares at them, his ears burning red. “You’re all fucking insane,” he says, throwing a crumpled paper towel at Felix, who barely dodges it.

“No, no, they’re right,” Changbin says, his grin wicked. “We just tell people Jisung got overwhelmed by the smell of sex in the house and decided to add his own.”

“Marking his territory,” Hyunjin repeats, wheezing. “God, I can’t breathe.”

Jisung huffs, sitting back on his heels and tossing the last paper towel into the trash bag. “You guys are seriously deranged.”

Minho smirks, crossing his arms. “Says the guy who just spent twenty minutes on his hands and knees cleaning piss. You’re our leader now, Piss Boy.”

The laughter continues, but Jisung’s attention drifts back to you. You’re doubled over, laughing so hard you can’t even form words, tears shining in your eyes. Despite the relentless teasing and the sheer absurdity of the situation, Jisung feels that same warmth bloom in his chest.

He sighs, pushing himself to his feet and tossing the cleaner back onto the counter and to wash his hands in the kitchen. “You’re all still assholes,” he mutters, walking over to plop down on the couch next to you. His arm loops lazily around your shoulders, pulling you close.

You lean into him, still giggling as you look up at him. “But you love us.”

He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Some more than others.”

This was supposed to come out at the end of November but got delayed so here it is now <3

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

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houpss · 10 months ago

Note

I urgently need you to write about what if SKZ are upset/crying

you write so well that I cry every time from your works, they break my heart :( You're born for angst ❤️‍🔥🫶🏻

SKZ feeling upset/crying

angst, fluff, consolation, tears

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

Chan cries often, but he does it alone.

Because...he shouldn't cry. That's what he thought.

Chan helps everyone, he gives advice to everyone... but he is not able to help himself.

He looks like a drowning man, but he is drowning in his problems, he is drowning in self-hatred.

Oh...he thinks that he is absolutely ugly, that he is always behind and that he is always bad.

Tears of desperate pain choke him as he covers his mouth with his hand and hugs his knees to his chest as he sits on his bed in his room.

He knew he wasn't worthy of the fans' love or your love. What did he do to deserve you?

He slowly and surely destroyed himself from the inside.

It will be late Friday evening, Chan has had a terrible day today. He made a few mistakes, he's very absent-minded

He came home and immediately burst into tears. He collapsed exhaustedly on the bed, his body trembling with shame and tears.

He lay down in a ball and covered himself with a blanket, he wants to hide from the whole world.

You arrived a little later than Chan. you tensed up because the apartment was quiet and dark.

You went through all the rooms, but didn’t find Chan there, although his shoes and bag were in the hallway.

Your heart sank when you saw him in the bedroom, you felt his pain on you.

You entered the room and sat down on Chan’s bed, Chan was lying on his side, covered with a blanket up to his head, he was breathing heavily and sobbing. You saw several drunk bottles of whiskey on the table, it seems things are bad. You stroked Chan’s head and back as he lay under the blanket. You rubbed his back again and again. Your heart ached with every tear he shed, it hurt too much. Chan feels your gentle touch and sobs loudly. Tears dampen the pillow, his body tenses for a moment, but then he slowly turns to you and looks at you with wet brown eyes, full of pain and regret. “Y/n...you shouldn't have seen this... I'm sorry...” his voice trembles, he tries his best to stop himself from screaming, “I don't want anything to happen in our relationship because of me- that’s bad... please forgive me" ..."Channie..please tell me everything that bothers you...I will help you" Tears flowed from his eyes, he sobbed loudly and squinted. Y/n ran thumb over his cheek, wiping away large tears, they looked like pearls. Chan felt disgusted with himself, he was disgusted by his appearance and existence. The sobs slowly subside under your touch, and Bang Chan looks at you with sad eyes, they beg for help, shining under the light. * “I can’t stand it anymore... I want to stop... please help me...” Chan's voice cracks. as he speaks quietly, not daring to look away. Y/n smiles at him tenderly, but doesn’t promise anything yet.

"I know how hard it is for you and how hard you try...you are such a wonderful person, Channie...my beloved wonderful man. Why don't you take a rest?" You spoke quietly, stroking Chan’s hair. Chan wanted to protest because there was too much work, but he felt like he was breaking down inside. Chan sighed and laid his head on Y/n’s chest, he didn’t want to say anything, they understood each other without words. They are connected at the soulmate level. He didn't want to think about work right now. They lay there for a while, and Y/n gently stroked her lover's hair. Chan felt warmth spread throughout his body as you whispered soft words of comfort, “Go to sleep, my love... We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Eventually, Chan's sobs subsided and he fell asleep in your arms. Your love will heal him, it will give him redemption. You are his sin, but at the same time his protector, you are his eternal love. Thank you.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

He is always strict with himself, he strives for an ideal that does not exist.

He literally wants to be the best everywhere and in everything.

He may be on strict diets, exhaust himself with dancing, or spend a lot of time in the gym. This all indicates that he feels bad in his soul.

He won't ask for help, he's not a weakling.

It will be evening, late evening in the dance studio, he is sitting on the floor and breathing heavily.

He worked out so much again for so long. His bones ached, his heart beat wildly, just a little more and he would collapse, but he wouldn’t stop.

Why do so many people underestimate him? Minho wants to be the best.

You will go into the studio and sit quietly next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He won't notice you at first.

His mood will improve slightly when he sees you and rests his head on yours.

Y/n took his hand, squeezing it a little. You felt how tired Minho was, you felt that he was being destroyed from the inside, he needed help. Minho intertwined his fingers with yours and his breathing calmed down a little “Y/n, it’s late, go home” He said, straightening his wet hair from sweat. "I was expecting you, you've been training all day." "You know the comeback is coming soon and I can't—"

You stop him and stroke his face, he looks like an upset cat. You straighten the strands of hair that fell on his forehead, “I know, but if you go on stage like this, STAY won’t be happy...take care of yourself first.”

He wants to argue with you, he doesn’t want to seem weak. He would never be weak, “Y/n, it’s really okay,” but when he tried to stand up, his legs gave way and the pain in his hip intensified. You jumped up after him so he could lean on you. "Don’t be a hero, Min, we’ll BOTH go home now,” he wants to object again, but the pain in his thigh intensifies and he makes a face, allowing him to be led to the sofa. You ran for the first aid kit, giving him painkillers.

"I will remind you of this, Y/n" he grins through the pain, but allows himself to lean on you and lead him to the manager's car. He is grateful to you, maybe he will start to feel better about himself. In the car, he takes you to his side and kisses you on the the top of the head.

𝐒𝐞𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

Changbin is rarely sad, he is always positive

Perhaps...he will be sad because some STAY don't like his appearance.

He will be quiet and taciturn, always looking at the phone screen.

One evening he comes up to you while you are preparing dinner and asks “Y/n...am I really that scary?”

You frown and don’t understand why he says that.

"Binnie, is something bothering you? You're handsome, baby."

He frowns and hands you the phone. He read the bad comments again.

You go up to him and pat him on the head, his head was at the level of your chest when he sat.

"Honey, antistay no one and you should ignore their words."

Before continuing, you handed Changbin his phone number, but with a post where there was a post where Changbin was considered the best. He is the best.

He will smile and lean towards you for a kiss.

He will shine all evening, he will be like the sun.

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

"Leave me the fuck alone for once"

Hyunjin will be furious, he was extremely annoyed by everything and everyone

As soon as he says this phrase, then you really should leave him alone.

He will pour out his sadness and melancholy in his paintings, he will completely throw all his emotions onto the canvas.

But

He will come to you later, but he will still be upset.

He will constantly talk about how terrible he is, how unworthy he is of your love, and may even question your relationship itself.

But he wasn't really asking you questions, he was just insecure and needed you to repeatedly tell him it was all bullshit.

You will run through his hair, stroking his cheeks and wiping away the tears from them.

Oh...it seems prince is a whiny boy.

Although fans believed that Hyunjin was perfect in everything, Hyunjin himself did not think so. He was absolutely afraid, he is afraid of everything.

He will wrap his long arms around your body while his head is on your chest, he quietly sobs and mutters something like: “please... don’t leave... don’t be disappointed in me.”

Give him love and care. Gentle kisses and long hugs will suit him.

He will cry for a long time, but because of his love for you.

Hyunjin is the sweetest person you've ever met. On the outside he is cold and inaccessible, but in reality he is vulnerable and soft.

Will fall asleep on you while you play with his hair.

"Sleep sweetly, my angel"

𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

Jisung wasn't as extroverted as everyone says

He is actually sad a lot, there are too many doubts in his head.

He may get upset over little things.

At one point it all resulted in tears.

You found him in tears in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and crying. He cried so hard and a lot.

His soul seems to be rotting from the inside.

“There is no loneliness worse than loneliness in society. Everyone laughs, but you want to cry.” This describes his life

You will hug him tightly while his limp arms cling to you.

He cries quietly in your arms, but does not explain the reasons. But you don’t ask him to tell you.

Even the funniest person can be broken at heart.

Jisung has lost his way out of his darkness.

He had not seen a way out for a long time. He was lost in the dark forest of his own thoughts.

need to live, not exist.

Will you be his light in this pain?

Then, Jisung will say for the first time that he appreciates you. Cherish these words until the last moment.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

He tries not to be upset, because the sun is never sad.

Felix hides his upset under a smile.

But... he won't deceive you.

He is too open and soft with you

He will cuddle up to you and tell you everything, he will be open with you and tell you about all his experiences.

"You came and everything became better"

He feels good and calm with you. You are his sedative.

He is like a kitten that needs all the love and affection.

He will sob and talk about all the problems.

You gently stroke his back, sometimes stroke his head. Throughout his story, you give him tactility and kisses.

The sadness will soon go away and you will go bake brownies or some other sweet together.

After crying, his face is little reddish, his eyelashes are pinched and his lips are swollen...he is a crying angel.

You will fulfill his every wish in order to prevent his tears! You have to tell him a lot of exciting stories to make him smile.

He must love flowers. Give him a bouquet)

If one kiss was not enough, then ten, if ten were not enough, then a hundred and even more.

The sun is shining again, and your sun happily moves around the kitchen and cooks with you.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

You didn’t know the last time you saw Seungmin sad, he didn’t care about anything at all.

He is sad alone, but he often remembers you. Thinking about you gives him peace.

He listens to any music and looks at your photos. He thinks a lot

You never touch him when he's sad. You just give him your soft toy and a glass of water.

It will take him a few hours, but he will be completely back to normal.

Seungmin never shares his experiences, but you know everything that happens on a subconscious level.

Perhaps he likes to go for a walk when bad thoughts come over him.

Only then will he call you and ask you to come.

You will walk in silence, only his cold hand gave him away.

Surrounded by your scent and beautiful views, he felt better.

When you get home, help him change and lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He will feel better.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

He hides his emotions.

No one needs to know how he feel.

Jeongin didn’t like unnecessary attention and didn’t talk much about his feelings.

But you know Jeongin from bones to toe.

He seems angry, but he is only upset in his heart.

Jeongin will be clingier than usual and won't talk much.

You ask what happened, and he will exhale heavily and try to tell you.

Jeongin's story will be a little incoherent, but he put his soul into his experiences.

You will help him solve his problems, because nuna/hyung always loves him!

He will feel better with your presence, as if you transferred your positive energy to him!

You will go for a walk, and then go shopping, because Jongin feels better when he buys new beautiful clothes.

545 notes · View notes

daengtokki · 12 days ago

Text

part eight // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 13k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: self harm, hallucinations, monsters(?), medication mention, pregnancy, fluff...and a new OC

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: Hi guys, I'm kinda back. I hope you all enjoy part eight! We still have a long way to go. Please reblog and help support me and my work! I love and appreciate you all very much ♡ ˎˊ˗

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST ]

TAGLIST: @kkamismom12 / @r0tt1n / @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance / @velvetmoonlght / @ghostedgameplays

It’s not as bad as you thought it would be. It doesn’t look quite like how it sounded when it hit the floor, but each side of the music box separated from itself on impact, and now it’s a sad shell of its former self. You can fix it, though—you have to fix it.

You lower yourself for a closer look, making sure to avoid the sparkling glass covering so much of the floor. The glimmer of something else catches your eye, so you move carefully, pinch the silver chain between your fingers, and pull it from its tiny pool of water. “Can I wear this until it’s in one piece again?”

An odd request, maybe, but Seungmin doesn’t bat an eye at it. “You wanna wear St. Michael? Are you feeling guilty again, or…” he pulls his shirt over his head, sweat soaked from his workout—disposing of the body. “Feeling the snares of the devil?”

“Should I be feeling him?” That wasn’t a yes, but you clasp it around your neck anyway.

He smiles at you and shrugs.

“You’re no devil”

“No? You’re just blinded by me. Biased.”

“True. What did you do to me?”

His face falls in confusion. “Nothing. I mean…I always wondered if—“

“Minnie, I’m joking.” But he still has that worried look in his eyes. It’s been a while since you’ve seen it. “What have you always wondered?”

Now he seems reluctant to finish. Seungmin grabs his clean towel and shorts and looks toward the door, but he turns to you again. “…if I did do something to you that night. It’s silly.”

“When I passed out?”

“When you died,” he corrects you. “You were dead, no pulse. One minute and…forty seconds.”

“You never told me that”

“I never told you how long you were gone?”

“And that I had no pulse”

He takes a few steps toward you. “No, I guess I didn’t. I thought you knew.”

Seungmin touches the medallion on your chest, examines it, avoids looking directly at you. He’s thinking, you assume, about whatever it is he believes happened when you died for one minute and forty seconds. His hands are warm on your skin, and you’re already craving his touch again, but his mind seems to be somewhere else entirely.

“I was wearing it that night. Usually, I take it off when I go to bed, but I fell asleep reading.”

“What night?” You take his hand in yours, but he slips away and starts toward the door. “Seungmin, what night?” The air starts to feel thick with tension. Seungmin’s mind still turns so quickly sometimes, but not this quickly.

“Can we talk after I shower?”

/ / /

The living room fills with the scent of almond blossom tea and Seungmin’s steamy, citrusy shower. He spent a long time in there—washing away his kill, thinking of a way to tell you his story, wondering if it’s time. It has to be. Seungmin knows you’ve earned every truth he has to give. It’s the least he can do. He stares absently at the floor with his mug cupped in both hands. “The night my mom and stepdad died.”

Your mind goes every which way, wondering what direction his story is going to go in. “They both died the same night?”

“Yes. I should have told you this when you opened up to me months ago.”

“No, not if you weren’t ready”

It feels so complicated in his head, but telling you everything takes no more than ten minutes, even through the tears that eventually start falling. And in that ten minutes, you end up on the couch, Seungmin curled up in your arms for comfort. Still, he left out a few details, like her voice starting right there in the greenhouse; his trip into the woods hoping to be taken by the thing that lived there—still lives there.

He melts into you even more. “That’s worse than I could have ever imagined, my poor sweet Minnie.”

The ground in Uljin is sour, except for where his mother rests, and everything about your visit there starts to make sense. The shed is the rotting corpse of his stepfather, and its arms still reach far enough to hurt Seungmin. The garden he and his mother created; the greenhouse, and every single everlasting flower that it holds seems to keep him here, reaching a little further and giving you who you have in your arms.

“I’m so glad you made it through.”

“Did I? Sometimes it feels like I died back there…” he stops and sniffles, wipes his cheeks, “in the woods.”

“You didn’t. You’re here with me, like you’re supposed to be.”

Seungmin is exhausted, physically and mentally. His eyes close, and his body relaxes as he puts his arms around you again.

“The woods where he left you. The same ones from your dream last night?”

He mumbles a yes.

“The ones we drove through…I didn’t like those woods”

“There’s nothing to like about them”

“They felt haunted”

“That’s one way of describing it. They were like that long before I put him the ground, and now it’s worse. The dirt he’s decaying in hates me just as much as he did.”

“He’s still there? Is she?”

A long blank stare, followed by a slow nod. “Yes.” Seungmin looks at you, still so full of secrets, but he’s running out of energy to keep going.

“What did the rest of your family think happened?”

“That he killed her, and disappeared”

Now it’s your turn to close your eyes and relax in his embrace. Just learning about his past is tiring, and overwhelming. How could a nine year old come out of that? Seungmin did, but it damaged him so severely he can no longer live a normal life.

“I was sick before any of that happened, though,” he starts again. “Umma knew I was seeing and hearings, but she didn’t know what to do, except give me this…” He touches the necklace again, presses his lips to your chest, “and pray, read to me, surround me with flowers. But I was so much worse after he left me in the woods. And he didn't believe I needed a doctor."

For the first time in a long time, you’re lost for words. There’s not much you can say right now to bring him the comfort he needs, but your touch might help. You kiss his forehead, and rub his back until he lifts his head to look at you. He just stares, searching your face for something; waiting for more, maybe. Does he still think the things he tells you will scare you off?

“It’s genetic, isn’t it?” He asks.

“Yeah, I think so”

“So…the chances of one of them being sick—”

You knead your fingers into his neck and squeeze before he finishes. If only you could make this one worry go away. “They’ll be okay. We’ll worry about that when…if…the time comes.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“You’ve been seeing things, too. Has that ever happened before?”

“No”

/ / /

Why are you seeing things? The thought hadn’t occurred to you until now, because everything from the last several months has been some level of strange. The dreams felt like dreams, even after you discovered they were echoes of Seungmin’s nightmares, and even how easy and beautiful it felt to fall for him didn’t seem unusual. The truth is, that’s never happened to you...nobody has ever been as close to you as he is. The connection is preternatural. If there were ever time to use that word, this is it. “No, I’ve never even seen a ghost. Seeing that dog under the bed is the first time something like that has happened.”

“So, maybe it was really there”

You shake your head. “If so, it had to have slipped into a tear in the fabric of space…a wormhole. Or it’s just magic.”

“Like Bulgae”

“Bulgae?”

“Mm, they’re just mythical creatures, a fairytale I guess. The fire dogs that chase…oh,” he rubs his chin with his knuckles, and his eyes wonder around the room. They land on the window, where the quarter moon stares in. “They chase the sun and the moon. Do you think there’s a tear in space under my bed?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Minnie”

“Are you up for a long drive tomorrow?”

Seungmin doesn’t like going home—you assume, and he doesn’t pretend it’s easy. He does it as if it’s a necessary pilgrimage to a partially sacred place. He has to fight through the oppressive evil to get to the little bit of warmth still existing there, and he’s succeeded every time so far. But this is only your second time accompanying him.

“You can sleep if you’re comfortable,” his fingers run down your arm and wrap around your wrist. “I can see how tired you are.”

Yesterday was exhausting, and your dreams kept you up most of the night. The dog returned, just the white one, but it didn’t try to hurt you. It didn’t even look at you. You watched it from the balcony as it struggled to reach what you assume was some representation of the moon; a glowing blue sphere in the middle of the city, far too low to be any celestial body. Upon waking up, you decided it had been the weirdest dream you’ve had in a long list of weird dreams.

“Okay.” You don’t fight him, or the overwhelming urge to close your burning eyes. “I’ll try.”

When you wake, the car is parked, and you’re alone. Seungmin kept the engine running, the music low, and the doors locked, and when he returns several minutes later, you’re already sound asleep again. He gets in as quietly and gently as possible with the bag full of snacks he’s hoping you’ll like, but for now, he’s happy to see you sleeping so soundly. And that’s what he does for a little while longer—he watches you, listens to you breathing, and wonders if you’re in the middle of a dream. He hopes not. Or if you are, it’s a good one. Neither of you seem to have much luck with that.

You groan and shift, and Seungmin can’t help but reach out for you. He swipes his fingertips across your forehead, tucks some hair behind your ear.

“Where are we?”

“Almost there”

“Did you get me something?” Seungmin digs around in the bag and holds it out for you. “Oh a triangle, thank you!”

“Mhm, if you eat two you can have your cookies”

“Did you get yourself something besides coffee?”

“I’m not very hungry”

When he eats, he eats well, but sometimes he goes far too long without. “You didn’t eat before we left.” You don’t push it, though. The trip might be the reason for his lack of appetite, so the sooner you start heading home, the better. “Do you wanna bite? Just a little one.” Seungmin watches you unwrap it, and when you hold it up to his lips, he opens up and takes a much bigger bite than you expect. “Good boy."

He stops chewing, and a slow smile starts to appear. “Hm?”

“Oh…uhm”

He covers his mouth as he finishes chewing and swallowing, but as soon as it’s down, he laughs softly behind his hand. “Say it again.” Seungmin leans forward and takes another bite.

“Good…” you kiss the top of his head, and he laughs despite his mouthful of tuna and rice, “good boy.”

“Thank you,” he washes it down with his coffee and points to the remaining piece, “your turn, both of them.“

“Can I have a sip of your coffee?”

Seungmin smiles again, pretends to think…he never actually says no to you. “Yeah, one little sip.”

The road you’re on isn’t one you recognize, but the trees and hills are very much what you remember from your December trip. It’s so much different now—it’s brighter, and more colorful. The blue sky makes everything look bigger, and much less claustrophobic, and you hope seeing it like this is a little easier on him. Flowers are blooming all over the sides of the roads, and at the edge of the woods you pass; in gardens and open fields. His backyard will at least be dry and warm this time around. The forest is no different. It’s oppressive and dark. Eerily quiet, except for a few bugs chirping in the darkest corners. You roll down the window and smell the air, and you decide it might be the only nice thing about it.

“What was that?” You turn the volume down on the radio and listen again.

“I didn’t hear anything”

You wonder if he did, and he’s just pretending he didn’t. “That…” An unmistakable rumble, like the echo of a car engine in the distance, but not quite. It cuts out abruptly, and that’s the last time you hear it. When you look at him again, his face is blank, and maybe a little bit pale, so you drop it.

When you finally, truly arrive, you’re not sure if the car will actually make it up the slight incline to park next to the house. It’s not dry at all. The surrounding area is still covered in a wet muddy mess, almost as bad as it was in December…but somehow, Seungmin makes it.

“You okay?”

“Huh…oh yeah, I’m good. Just not wearing the right shoes for this.”

“Most of the area stays pretty nasty until the snowmelt dries, and then it gets muddy again as soon as the rainy season starts.”

His door pops open, “stay there.” He rounds the car and opens yours, “okay,” and kneels down.

“Minnie, I can get a little muddy”

“I know, but you don’t have to. C’mon.”

All you can picture in your head is him slipping, falling, and you going down with him, but then you remember how easily he managed this ground last time. Seungmin isn’t clumsy on his feet, only in his head, and only sometimes. He reaches back for you and wiggles his fingers. “Okay, okay. Brace yourself.”

“For what?” He grunts when you put all of your weight on his back, but he still stands without a problem. “You should be heavier than this by now, right?”

“I’ve gained eight pounds since I moved in with you”

“Do you gain less with girls, and more with boys?”

“I’m not sure, remind me to google it”

“That seems like a silly question when I say it out loud”

“It’s not. Is that what we’re having?”

“Hm?”

Maybe it was a slip-up, or maybe he’s dying to finally tell you. “Girls? Is that what we’re having?”

“I thought you didn’t wanna know”

Part of you does, especially now that you’ve started working on the nursery—just another step toward it becoming your new reality. “Do you think the tech was right about it?”

“She seemed confident, and she’s been looking at ultrasound babies for a long time.” Seungmin kneels again, and you put your feet down on the concrete walkway outside the greenhouse.

“Have you been thinking about names?”

His little smile answers for you, even though he shakes his head. “Not much…not really.”

Warm air and the heady scent of a dozen different flowers hits you when the door swings open. Your eyes water from it, but you blink it away as he grabs your hand and pulls you in with him.

“Tell me one you like”

“A name I like…hm, there is one, but it might be too…me”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing”

“Ha-neul”

“Haneul…it sounds nice when you say it. What does it mean?”

“Sky”

“Oh, that’s perfect. I like it, too.”

He stares at the flowers, and his grip on your fingers tightens. “I can’t think of another name to compliment it, though. So I’m not sure.”

“Maybe it’s too early for this part”

Seungmin pulls you with him toward the purple flowers, and when you’re close enough to be filled with their scent and only their scent, he lowers himself and kneels in the much dryer soil. When you don’t immediately follow, he squeezes and tugs a little harder. It still feels like an intrusion into his most personal moments, but he wants you here, so you lower yourself next to him and hold tight to his arm.

Being here now is different—she’s there, right below you, beneath the purple bushes whose roots certainly reach as deeply as she’s buried. Seungmin’s mother exists in the flowers in a way you never thought possible, and that’s why he keeps them close. This is you finally meeting her, you think.

“Umma?”

He waits, and you’re perfectly still and quiet as the moments pass. And then a few more moments. It’s getting late, so you begin to hear the growing sound of insects crying in their hiding spots, but nothing else. Eventually, too much time and silence passes, so you squeeze his hand and look at him. “Seungmin?” You can see the stain of a tear on his cheek. He’s biting down hard on his lip to keep some composure, but it isn’t working very well. “What is it?”

“She’s not answering”

“Try again…say something else”

He nods and takes a deep breath. “Umma, nae mal deullyeoyo? Please say something.” The sound of his shaking voice hurts. You know there’s still no reply, even before he releases you and spreads his palms out over the ground—what you don’t know is if this is the first time she’s been silent, and it’s not a good time to ask. If it is, you can only assume it’s because of his Haldol. Seungmin hasn’t missed a dose in over a month. It’s taken hold, and the sound of his mother’s voice is no longer there. This might not be the best side effect. “Where did you go?” He leans forward until his forehead touches the cold ground, and your hand slides beneath his shirt at the same time. It’s warm, and it’s soft, and as much as he wants to scream, your touch helps keep him calm. A slow, deep breath, and his lungs fill with the scent of earth and heliotrope. She’s still here, he thinks. “I know you’re still here.”

Your hand slides across his back until he rises again, but he’s dizzy, and a sour, nauseous feeling starts to rise in his stomach and throat. He turns and crawls away just in time. Seungmin vomits, coughs, vomits again…or tries to. Nothing comes up, but his body keeps telling him to try.

“She is, Min. Just like last time, and the time before that.”

He isn’t sure what you’re saying, but he hears your voice despite the muffled ringing in his ears. It helps. Seungmin isn’t sure he could handle the silence alone. “I’m sorry.” A fistful of dirt comes with him as he stands, and he tosses it aimlessly towards the mess. “You heard it in the woods, right? That sound.”

“The rumble?”

“Yeah…the rumble”

“What was it?”

“Something umma told me was just in my head”

If it’s in yours, too, that still doesn’t mean it’s real. Seungmin is giving you more than just his dreams.

“Maybe she’ll talk to you”

“Me? No. Why would she talk to me?”

Seungmin shrugs, but he has his reasons. “Just hoping, I guess.” He wonders if your strange connection exists in this way, even if he can no longer hear her. You’re seeing things, and you’re dreaming like him…so maybe he hasn’t completely lost his connection to his mother.

You turn away and carefully lower yourself to the ground, but you’re not prepared for this—you have enough trouble talking to tangible people in front of you. Nothing happens right away. Just the sound of the bugs, and the wind picking up and pushing against the glass panels. The sun is finally setting behind the trees, and the orange glow coming in looks like fire. “Susie, are you there? Your son wants to speak to you.” All you can hear is the sound of Seungmin sniffling and pacing behind you. “I would like to talk to you, too” The wind pushes harder against the greenhouse, and the lonely wind chime catches it and starts to sing. It slows down, and you look away for a moment to watch the tops of the trees stop swaying in the distance. “Is that you?”

“Did she…?” Seungmin asks, but a moment later, another gust hits, and a glass panel cracks from the pressure. “Oh no.” He heads for it to inspect the damage, leaving you alone with the flowers as you try with everything you have to hear something. “It might be okay,” he says, mostly to himself as his finger runs over the superficial crack. The greenhouse has survived the elements for a very long time, and one little crack is not going to bring it down.

“She loves you very much”

His arm slides around your waist, and his hand spreads out across your stomach. There’s nothing there to see yet, even with twins—but you’re much softer where his fingers knead and squeeze. “You heard her?”

Did you? You don’t remember hearing anything except the wind—no voice in your ear, or in your head, just the overwhelming desire to tell him. “I’m not sure, but��she does, Minnie. She loves you, all of you, the good and the bad.”

“I was excited to tell her about the twins”

It hadn’t occurred to you that part of this trip was to tell her the big news…that he’s going to be a father. During the first trip here, he was quietly joyous about simply not being alone, and that also just occurred to you—he was still brand new to you. His happiness is still so lost in him sometimes, buried under too much grief and damage. “Tell her...” You grab and pull him so he’s kneeling next to you, but you’re not sure if he’ll actually try to speak again. If he thinks it, that’ll be good enough.

Umma? I’m sorry I can’t hear you.

He waits again, just in case there’s an answer this time.

I’m going to be a father. Well, I guess I already am, but…they might be born in September, just like me. We’re having—oh, I can’t say it out loud. It’s still a secret.

“No, you can tell us. I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Seungmin whispers, and he smiles when you nod at him. You weren’t sure you’d get another one out of him for a while.

We’re having boys…identical boys, umma. I’ll be the father dad didn’t get the chance to be. I’ll make you both proud.

The hanok, for as long as it’s been sitting here uninhabited (“fifteen years,” Seungmin tells you, “it was like everyone but me just forgot it existed.”), is still in surprisingly good shape. The outside is somewhat neglected, but it’s solid, and the inside…you weren’t expecting to see the inside, but Seungmin had the key in his never-ending collection of keys...the inside is nice, but dusty and a little damp, and it almost looks like someone still lives here. There are clean dishes sitting on the counter, like they were almost put away in the cupboard above them. The faded curtain is pulled open just enough to see down the pathway that leads to the greenhouse, and…two pairs of shoes sit neatly by the door you walked through. A pair of sneakers, and next to them, a pair of rain boots.

“Seungmin, are those…were those yours?”

He looks to the spot you’re staring at, and nods. “Yes, they were mine.”

“Can I see your bedroom?”

The afternoon sun is pouring in through his window, and even with the curtains closed, it filters in and casts a warm glow over everything. His yo, rolled up and covered; a desk still holding a stack of books; the bookshelf, and a chest you can only imagine is full of whatever this little boy liked to play with. Now you’re hit with another realization, even though you knew…he really was just a baby when this nightmare happened to him. Seungmin sat at this desk and practiced his spelling and multiplying, and in the same breath, he had to kill his stepfather to save his own life.

“I saw this in one of my dreams”

“What did you see?”

“In the park, when I first told you I was dreaming about you…one of them was this, I think. Your window, the bedroom.” Seungmin passes by and pulls at the curtains, and the light is almost too bright as your eyes adjust. “We were laying in your bed, and the sun was bright just like this, but it must have been summer. There were flowers outside, yellow and purple flowers. That was a nice dream. You kissed me before I woke up.”

“I did?” He leans in quickly and places a kiss on your lips, “like that?” He tries again when you shake your head, this time right between your eyes. “There?”

“Nope, try again”

“Hm, how about…” a soft one against your temple, but he huffs when you shake your head again. “Where does dream you want a kiss?” His eyes scan every part of you as he thinks, and eventually, he grins and goes for your neck.

“Up a little…perfect.” In your head, you’re doing your best to remember every detail of that dream, but you can’t. It’s long gone. “What was that? Thunder?”

The sun is still shining, but on closer inspection he can see the dark clouds in the distance, slowly moving above the trees. “I think so.” Seungmin forgot how oppressive the view is from here…the darkness of the forest in front of him, even in the daylight, makes him uncomfortable. “I’ll check the heat, and the water. We can spend the night if…” the rain starts almost immediately. “If that’s okay.”

“Here? I don’t mind, but only if you’re comfortable staying.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Actually, since I met you, up until now has been the longest I’ve gone without visiting, or cleaning up. It’s hard, and as many bad memories as this place holds…it’s still all I have of her.”

“Then yeah, let’s make ourselves comfortable here and get a good nights sleep.”

Once the heat is on and moving through the floors, the house comes back to life in a whole new way—it’s warm, and it’s cozy. This, plus the few good memories…it’s easy to see why he hasn’t completely abandoned the house. Seungmin begins to hum as he walks around lighting candles, and once he’s satisfied with his placement, he turns the lights low and joins you on the doubled up mattress in the middle of the floor. “Did you have enough to eat?”

“Mhm”

“Do you need more water?”

“No, I’m good. I’m comfortable.”

He touches your neck and pulls you close for a kiss. “Warm enough?”

More of the dream comes rushing back to you. “Perfect. I’m with you, I couldn’t be better.”

“Yeah…so you still like me?”

The face you make sends him into a fit of quiet laughter, and it might be the biggest smile you’ve seen him crack since he saw the twins two weeks ago. Seungmin’s never given you a good full-body laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, and an unusual one, because it’s so new to you. You can help but laugh with him. “Yeah, I think I still like you.”

“Good. If I think too much about us only knowing each other for four months, I start to wonder—“

“Don’t wonder”

“Don’t?”

“Trust me when I say I’ve found the one. So…boys?”

He smiles just as wide again, and the sparkle in his eyes tells you everything he wants to say. “Boys.” He nods and whispers. “I hope it makes it more real for you, and you’ll be happy with so many boys running around.”

“It does, and I am. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

It’s too warm eventually, and when you start to kick off the fluffy blanket, you know something is missing. Your leg slides across the mattress, and your blurry eyes pop open to his empty pillow. “Minnie?” You sit up and realize just how warm the house is—you rub a hand across your chest and wipe away the sweat starting to gather there. Maybe he got up to turn the heat down, or crack a window. “Seungmin?” You know you’ll have to get up at some point, so you just get it over with now. Maybe he’s in the bathroom. Why is your heart starting to race? Nothing is happening, nothing is wrong, so stop panicking. Your feet hit the floor, and the panic gets a little bit worse. Nausea works its way through you.

The bathroom is empty, and his bedroom is, too. The only other bedroom, his mother’s, is also empty, but you weren’t expecting him to be in there. There’s nowhere else except outside, and it’s still raining. The car is there, you can see it from the kitchen window, and when you finally head for the door, you can see it hasn’t been pulled shut far enough to lock. He is outside. You open the door and look out into the dark fog. Why would he come out at this hour?

“Seungmin! Dammit, you better answer me!”

Just the patter of rain on the roof and the windows. Nothing else. You almost go for your shoes, but putting them on seems pointless. All you’ll do is ruin them, and walking around in wet, muddy shoes as you search for him sounds much less appealing than doing it in your bare feet. The first step onto the grass is unpleasant, but after a few more, it’s fine, and you walk as quickly as you can toward the greenhouse.

hey

“Minnie…Min, was that you?”

You heard it, even through the rain, but he’s not in there. Seungmin is definitely not in there, and you don’t want to get any closer than absolutely necessary. The shed looks even worse than it did last time, and just opening the door feels like it could be disastrous. A few loose nails and pieces of rotting wood in the right spots; the whole thing comes crashing down around you. But maybe that would bring Seungmin out from wherever he’s hiding. “You in there, Min?” You whisper and close the gap, reach for the chain, and pull. “Why would you be?” It creaks so painfully loud, and the inside is dark and empty, just like you expected. “Greenhouse…greenhouse.” The door slams shut as you try not to break out into a run, and every hair on your body stands up.

The greenhouse is a welcome reprieve. It’s warm inside, but just like the shed, it appears to be empty. “Fuck…Seungmin! Where are you?” You’re wet, and starting to shiver, and the mud has covered you up to your ankles already. “You’re gonna be mad at me for coming out here…but, but…”

Sweetie

You spin around, looking for whoever is clearly speaking to you. “Who’s there? Seungmin why are you doing this?”

my little boy isn’t here

“Susie?”

he doesn’t know what he does when he comes here, and he’s doing it again…my poor sweet puppy

“Where is he? Where did he go?”

the forest

“He went into the woods?” The nausea worsens when you think about him lying in a clearing somewhere, lost in the dark. “Why would he do that?”

There’s no more voice. Susie goes quiet. “Okay, I have to find him.”

How, you have no idea, but before you even attempt to walk further than the greenhouse, you run back to the house and throw open every closet. Most of them are still full of their things, so finding a raincoat is easy, and finding his mother’s rain boots is a relief after the mess you made all the way up to your knees. You clean up before slipping into them, and they fit well enough. The raincoat is a little small, but not enough to keep you from wearing it. The only light you can find is an oil lamp under the kitchen sink, not a single flashlight in any drawer…and your phone certainly won’t do any good. But it works—the oil is good, and there’s plenty of wick soaking in it, so it lights easily. “This might be my only luck tonight." The rain slows a little, and half of the sky clears up enough to see the moon and stars. It’s enough to orient yourself before they disappear again behind the trees, and a quick look at the compass on your phone is the last thing you do before silence falls around you. The trees hold up the rain, and the dense fog seems to take in everything else.

“Minnie!” Your voice falls flat—no echo. A twist of the knob raises the wick just a little, and the light intensifies.

For a while, you count your steps. Walking in a straight line is impossible, but you follow what looks like a trail the best you can, because you don’t want to think about getting lost in here without him. At one hundred steps, you stop and call for him again.

Fifty more, you call again. Everything is still eerily quiet, and if anything was walking around near you (“fuck, don’t think about that…don’t”), you’d know it. Twigs would snap, and the muddy forest floor would give almost anything away.

Fifty more steps. You set the lamp down and cup your hands around your mouth, and this time an echo moves through the trees. The rumble answers back. “No…not you.” What the hell was that? “Seungmin…please.” You force yourself further in; twenty…thirty…forty steps, and then you stop and rest on a stump. These woods are so much like the ones you walked through when you were a kid—thick, and dark, and quiet. But Mothman never got you, and whatever is living in this forest won’t get you, either. You hope. A sudden fear moves through you, though, and calling for Seungmin again seems like an invitation for something else.

I’ll just look for a while…no calling

Whatever lives here would be much deeper anyway…right? I’ve barely walked a quarter of a mile in

but I’ve been screaming for the last fifteen minutes, and if Seungmin’s in here…why IS he in here? Is he looking for something? Is he sleepwalking? No, he’s never done that before

What if this place is more than haunted, and you’re slowly slipping into some other place? What if there’s no going back after this? You’re pushed back in time again, to the dirty living room carpet and your bare feet sinking in. Dad is right behind you in his armchair, sound asleep, so you managed to swipe the tv remote from him.

You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas…

“There’s a signpost up a head…” you whisper to yourself in a strange attempt to self-soothe. "Your next stop—" You had a nightmare after watching that episode, and you remember it well. “God, maybe I've been dead this whole time.” The warmth of the medallion on your neck is suddenly very apparent, and you rub St. Michael between your fingers.

who are you?

“No, I’m not hearing anything else. Shut the fuck up.”

we don’t recognize you

“Seungmin!” You’re up and walking as fast as you can on the uneven ground, but the mud and heavy lamp are weighing you down. And then you see him. Or you see something. It moves across the trees in the shadow of your light. If it is him, he would have heard you and answered. “Hello?” Your voice shakes.

hello?

“Who’s there?”

He appears from behind a tree, and stares at you, silent.

“Seungmin…oh my god.” He doesn’t move when you run to him, and when you drop the lamp and throw your arms around him, he’s warm and still. “Minnie, baby, are you okay?” No answer, but his arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you close. “What are you doing out here? I was so scared.”

“Don’t be scared”

“Can we please go back?”

“Back?”

It takes some effort to free yourself, but you pull away and look at him. The lamplight is casting a strange shadow on his face, and now you’re back in your nightmare at the Jasmine Hotel. “Am I dreaming. Are we having a nightmare?”

“No, I’m awake”

“Can we go back?”

He takes your hand when you hold it out for him, and then he leads the way.

Seungmin is covered in mud. He’s drenched, and pale from the cold rain, but he doesn’t seem to be shivering the way that you are. His hand is warm, like he just woke up from a good sleep, and when he turns his head to look at you, he smiles.

“Why did you—“

“You must be cold, Tokki. I’ll run you a warm bath when we get back, and make you some tea.”

The walk back is quick, and he finds his way out easily. The rain passed while you searched for him, and now the sky is clear, so the light of the moon guides you the rest of the way.

Seungmin is quiet in the kitchen, but you can hear him filling the kettle and lighting the stove, the clink of mugs, and his soft voice as he starts to sing. You wash up quickly, drain the muddy bath water and start to refill it as his voice gets closer and closer.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing in there,” he says it with a lighthearted sternness.

“I feel better. It’s your turn.”

He doesn’t fight you. Seungmin hands you your tea and starts to pull off his damp clothes. You want to question him again, but you’re not sure when to do it—after he gets comfortable in the tub, or when you get him back into bed? He might fall right to sleep once his head hits the pillow.

“What kind of tea?”

His shirt is tossed and hits the floor with a wet thud, followed by his sweatpants, and then his boxers. “Raspberry leaf, with a little bit of sugar. I know it can be a ittle bitter."

So he's in there; he remembered the tea he brought, and he remembered that you coudn't stomach it without some sugar. “Did you do that to yourself?” Two long scratches along his collarbone stick out against his pale skin. Another three run across his shoulder blades.

“You don’t have to stay with me. Get back into bed and get warm.” He lowers himself into the hot water, and lets himself sink in up to his chin.

“No…we need to talk, Seungmin”

“What do we need to talk about?”

He looks at you, and there’s nothing about him that seems defiant. The memory of what just happened might already be fading away. “Min, do you remember waking up and leaving the house? I woke up and you were gone, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. I was scared.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sweetie. It was his mother that told you where he went. “What were you doing?”

He shakes his head, “I’m not sure.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“I have? How do you know?”

Pushing him for answers won’t help, because now you’re remembering the whispers in the greenhouse. He doesn’t know what he does when he comes here, and he’s doing it again…my poor sweet puppy. His mother spoke to you very clearly. Seungmin wanders into the woods every time he spends the night here, and he doesn’t remember doing it. He enters a dissociative fugue, and it’s continuing even with the medication. “Have you been taking your Haldol?”

“I have, I promise”

You know he has, because you’re usually with him when he does. And because her voice are gone. “I don’t know why I asked that, I know you are.”

“You shouldn’t have been out there in the rain. You could’ve gotten hurt, or lost. It’s my job to take care of you, and I failed.” Tears start to well in his eyes, and you don’t think you can stand to see him cry right now.

“But I’m okay, and you’re okay. We’re gonna get back into bed and sleep all morning, and then we’re going home.”

“Home?”

“Home”

/ / /

Another heavy storm passes through, and it keeps you up for a little while longer, but when you wake around noon, Seungmin is fast asleep next to you. Whatever he did when he disappeared into the woods exhausted him, because he never sleeps in this late. Maybe it’s this place, though, and not just his strange wandering. You need to know what happened in there, and what was going on in his head, but you don’t expect him to remember much.

“Mmm…morning,” he mumbles when you pull the blanket over his bare shoulder. The heat turned itself off while you slept, but you’re too cold to get up and fix it. Seungmin shivers a little, and you know it’s because he was too tired to find something to wear after his bath. “Cold.”

“I know, it’s cold in here…c’mere. "He moves closer and lets you wrap yourself around him. “How are you feeling?”

Seungmin groans and sighs.

“You can sleep more if you need to, or I’ll make some coffee”

“No, I’m up”

“Okay…do you remember last night, Min?”

Seungmin nods, but you have your doubts. Before the two of you even got into bed the first time, you talked. As a matter of fact, you and Seungmin talked more than usual. Not hearing his mother’s voice bothered him more than he lead you to believe at the time, and you think he may have been considering stopping his medication. He didn’t say that, but you could feel it.

“I remember, yeah. We had dinner, and we talked…we talked about names more.”

That part of the baby name conversation actually slipped your mind, but you remember now.

“Ha-neul,” he says again, because it’s still on his list. “And…”

“And something with Hwa or Hae, yeah?”

“Hae? Ha-neul and Hae…sung?”

The unexpected third part of the conversation might be the last one concerning names, at least for a while, because the way he’s looking at you is a very loud please, say yes to these. It almost makes you want to drop the questioning and return to it later.

“We’ll put those in the yes column”

But you can’t.

“Good. We can still think about it, but they do sound nice together.”

Seungmin seems happy; genuinely happy, despite how strange yesterday really was, and you hate having to ruin it. “You woke up last night…early this morning, I guess. Very early.”

“I did?”

“Yes. I woke up around two and you weren’t in bed. You weren’t anywhere in the house, or the greenhouse. Seungmin, I couldn’t find you…anywhere.”

He looks at you like you’re joking, but his face falls when he realizes you’re being very serious. “I don’t understand.” He sits up and looks down at himself, seems to realize he’s naked under the blankets, and wraps them tight around himself. “Was I sleepwalking?”

“I’m not sure, but I guess it’s possible”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that before”

He doesn’t know what he does when he comes here, and he’s doing it again…my poor sweet puppy

“How often did you spend the night here? Before me.”

“Maybe… maybe once every month or two. Where was I?”

There is no memory of anything behind his eyes. They soften as they search yours for the answer you’re trying to give to him, and you can see the puppy coming out. “In the woods. I found you about a quarter of a mile in, soaking wet, covered in mud.”

“No, why would I do that? I don’t like going in there when it’s daytime, and last night was…”

"I know"

“Why would I do that?” He says it again, more to himself this time. “Why?” Seungmin rocks a little and takes a deep breath. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

Without another word, you rise from the bed and head for the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

You understand his hesitancy in believing you, or believing it wasn’t just another strange dream. The whole thing being a nightmare isn’t far fetched at all, for either of you, but his muddy clothes are still on the bathroom floor. You hear him following closely behind.

“You took a bath, and we talked a little.” You show him in the clothes, and he examines them silently. “You didn’t remember anything last night, either. But you seemed fine…you made me tea, and…take that off, look at your neck.”

He pulls it down and examines himself in the mirror. “Did I do that in my sleep?”

“And your back”

The blanket drops to the floor. His scratches aren’t as red and angry as they were a few hours ago, but they broke open and bled a little in his sleep. “Looks like claw marks”

“Claw marks, from what?” From whatever made him go there in the first place. “I think you backed into a tree, Minnie…that’s all you were wearing out there.” You nod to his pile of clothes, and then occurs to you to check his t-shirt. The back of it is dirty, but that’s all—no rips, no blood. “Maybe.”

/ / /

The rain clouds are returning again, and the overcast sky is making your bad mood so much worse. You weren’t expecting the trip to go well, but this was beyond anything you could have imagined. Now you can’t help but stare off into the woods as Seungmin starts the ritual of collecting his heliotrope.

“Are you still here?” You whisper. Part of you is wondering if some of last night was a dream, or a hallucination, because the voices you heard are beginning to come back to you. All of them. “Please say something to him.” When you turn, he’s holding his arms tight against his chest, head down, as if he’s protecting himself from something. “What’s the matter, Min?”

“Nothing”

At any moment, he could break—that’s what he looks like standing there…like the last leaf preparing to fall off the tree, or a glass of water halfway off the edge of a table. One little gust of wind could topple him. So why are you hesitating to go to him? “Do you need help with anything?” You take a few slow steps toward him, but he turns away ever so slightly.

“N-no, no. I’m fine.” He bends and picks up the shears at his feet. “I’m okay.”

You catch his gaze for just a moment. His face is pale and tired, and you wish he would have slept longer. You almost want to stay another night, just not here, so he doesn’t have to drive. “Seungmin, talk to—“ You grab his elbow and make him look at you. “…me.”

“I’m sorry”

All you see is red, and you can smell it on him. “What did you do? Let me see.” The blood is coming from somewhere on his arm, but you can’t tell where. All you know is that it’s all over him, soaking the front of his shirt, starting to drip from his elbow.

“I cut too deep”

That explains his lifeless face. Everything around you is covered in dirt, so you reach into his back pocket. The embroidered handkerchief is there, like it always is. “Why’d you hurt yourself, love?” He’s had enough trauma for one trip.

“I didn’t mean to…make such a mess...ah," he winces when you push it down against the cut.

The thought of him running those shears along his skin makes you tense up. Whether he meant to cut or not, something in him wanted to put the blade on his arm in the first place. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of it.” You hold as tightly as you can. "But we need to get back to the house.”

It’s start to rain again, of course, and some of the blood washes away with it, but it hasn’t stopped by the time you get to the kitchen and examine it again. Blood pools in the cleanly cut skin and slowly drips down his forearm. Seungmin watches intently, and very calmly. “I think it slowed down,” he whispers.

“Not enough. You need stitched up.”

“I’m sorry I did that in front of you.”

“In this case, I’m glad you did it in front of me so I can’t at least take care of it. Is there a first aid kit somewhere in the house?”

“Uhm, yes, I think it’s still in that top drawer,” he nods toward the kitchen sink. “But it’s old.”

Better than nothing. You wrap him back up with a clean towel, rifle through a drawer you remember from last night, and you find it all the way in the back. It’s full of the most basic things, but it’ll do for now. You clean it…Seungmin holds in a cry and stomps his feet for that, and tears run freely down his cheeks after the burning finally stops. Two rolls of gauze later, and you wonder how long the blood will take to soak through completely. “I should take you to an emergency room before we go home.”

“I don’t want to do that”

“So we’ll go after we get home. It’s one or the other, Seungmin, because you need stitches.”

“Fine, we’ll get it over with here”

Seungmin’s mood starts to match yours, but his injury pulled you up a little—concern quickly replaced the confusion and anger, but now he’s confused and angry. You know it was intentional, but you decide to believe he didn’t mean to cut as deeply as he did, and by the time you get to a hospital, the gauze is already turning pink.

“Thank you for driving”

“Thank you for navigating”

“You did very well. I remember being here once, when I was…five or six.” He looks around the waiting room, and everything is so old, you assume it looked the same twenty years ago. “I broke a finger.” Seungmin holds up the ring finger on his right hand.

“Yeah, it looks a little crooked. Never noticed that before.”

“Kim...Kim Seungmin?”

A tall man holding a clipboard stands in the open doorway, and he looks directly at him in the crowded room. “You can follow me…both of you, if you’d like.”

Seungmin stands, hand still gripping yours. “Oh, he said you can come.”

The hallway leading to the partitioned rooms is just as aged. The colors are drab and depressing, and the smell of disinfectant almost chokes you.

“Have a seat, and I’ll take a look at this”

“Are you the doctor?” Seungmin asks, and he looks around nervously, but the man shakes his head. “Do you speak English?”

“No, I’m a nurse. And yes, I can speak English…why? Oh…” he looks at you and smiles awkwardly. And he switches easily from Korean to English. “I’m sorry, you don’t speak Korean?”

You shake your head and try not to feel like a burden.

Seungmin stretches his arm out as the nurse pulls his gloves on and slowly unwraps the bandage. “I just like her to know what’s going on.”

“Of course. Does this hurt?” He sees Seungmin wince as he gets closer to the wound. “I guess so. May I ask what happened?”

“Gardening accident. Very sharp tools.”

One last loop, and the bloody bandage is finally off of him. “Working in the greenhouse?” The cut still oozes blood, but much slower than before.

“Huh?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Seungmin looks at you, as if you have the answer for him, and then back to the nurse. “I thought you looked liked him, but it seemed impossible. You came back, Heecheol?”

The nurse nods, and his smile grows because his friend recognizes him. “You haven’t changed at all, Seungmin. Same face, same sad puppy eyes.”

You have to smile at that. Seungmin was a puppy to the people around him—at least the ones he cared about, and who cared for him in return. Before speaking again, Heecheol examines the cut with gentle hands, and then excuses himself for a moment to get a suture kit.

“You’re stitching it?”

“Yes. Unless you prefer a doctor, but they usually ask me to do them anyway.”

“When did you move back to Uljin?”

He re-gloves and opens the package before cleaning from Seungmin’s elbow to the middle of his forearm. “About a year ago. Living in the states was fine, but I think I needed a change.”

“Where did you live?” You chime in, and he gives you the same warm smile.

“Greensboro, and then Charlotte for a while”

“I can hear some accent in your English”

“I can hear yours, too…I’m guessing you weren’t far from there”

You nod and smile.

“Do you two live here in Uljin? Are you married? Oh, uhm, I’m just assuming you’re a couple. Sorry.” He focuses again, grabs the syringe full of lidocaine, and holds tight to Seungmin’s forearm. “This will pinch for a moment, but…after that it’ll feel much better.”

Seungmin nods and watches the needle slide in and out at each corner of his cut. The pinch doesn’t seem to bother him. “It’s fine. Not married, and we were just visiting. We live in Seoul.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Min. Is…Heecheol,” you have trouble with this pronunciation, but he doesn’t seem to mind, “is he the friend you told me about? The color one?”

“Yes, this is him”

“The color one?”

“What’s your favorite color?” Seungmin says, and he actually smiles. He’s smiling at him the way he does for you when he’s feeling good. “Is yours still green?”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything. Good and bad.”

“Right, I’m so sorry about your mother, Seungmin. I didn’t even know you lost her until my mom told me last year. She moved back here after my dad died, and now I’m taking care of her. She doesn’t have much time left…”

“She's sick?”

Heecheol nods solemnly as he checks the feeling of Seungmin’s arm. “Yes, end stage heart failure.”

“I’m sorry, Cheoli”

“I’ve had time to prepare and come to terms with it, which a lot of people don’t get. I am grateful for that.”

“Do you think she would still remember me?”

“My mom loved you, and she hated pulling us apart. She would, and she would love seeing you again—I’m sorry, I’ll be right back. I need different sutures.”

Seungmin turns to you when he disappears behind the curtain, and he looks like he’s ready to burst. His eyes are wide and watery, and his cheeks are starting to turn pink.

“What are the odds we’d run into him?” You run your thumb over the scar beneath his eye and wait for a tear to fall, but nothing comes. "Even in a small town?"

“It’s strange. Today has been very strange.”

After a few moments of silence, he returns, and he looks at both of you as if he’s figuring out how the two of you found each other. And how the two of you found him. “All ready, sorry.”

“It’s okay, we’re in no rush”

His mood has changed significantly, and now he has a very big reason to stick around a little longer. This place is not good for him, but you think his friend might be enough to outweigh the bad. The three of you are silent as he very carefully closes the wound, and he’s good at it. Heecheol is focused on his task, but every few seconds, his eyes move up to look at Seungmin—they look him over as if he could disappear at any moment and he doesn’t want to forget a single detail. Just as he’s finishing up, he does it again, and this time, Seungmin looks as well.

“I know you’re numb, but does it feel okay? Any pulling?”

“No, it’s good. It’s perfect.”

“I’m going to put a second skin bandage on it, over some gauze, and you won’t even have to think about it. Just go easy for a few days…no sliders…no fastballs.”

“I haven’t thrown a baseball in ten years”

It feels like you’re intruding. You don’t need to be here listening to them remember the past, even though you want to know more about the good parts of his childhood.

“How long will you be in town?”

“Well, we planned on heading home after I got stitched up”

There’s some hesitancy in his voice, and you know Seungmin is changing his mind about going home so quickly. You have no intention of pulling them apart again because the string between them is already reconnecting. It's obvious that the same force that ties you to him ties the two of them together as well.

“Maybe I’ll catch you next time,” he says, and as much as he tries to sound like he’s fine with it, he doesn’t.

“We can stay a little longer…if that’s okay with you”

Seungmin looks at you with his big wet eyes, as if you would ever say no to him. “Of course we can."

“Shift change is in…” Heecheol looks at his watch, “an hour. If you don’t mind waiting for me.”

/ / /

The weather finally changes. The rain stops, and the sun comes out, so Seungmin paces just outside the entrance to the hospital as you wait for him to speak. There’s a smile twitching on his lips, and you assume he’s thinking about his friend, and their past.

“How old were you when he moved?”

He stops and takes a seat next to you on the bench, and you’re relieved when he grabs your hand and squeezes. This was the first time since being with him that something truly got his attention more than you, and you have to admit that you’re a little jealous.

“I was eight…it was the summer before everything happened. We never even had the chance to say goodbye to each other.”

“I’m glad you found him again”

The doors slide open, and Heecheol walks out, freshly showered and out of his scrubs. He’s handsome; a sharp, fox-like face, and a sweet smile. The bounce in his step might not have been there a few hours ago, but it's there now, and it adds to his natural charm.

“Thank you for being so patient with me”

He makes sure to look at both of you as he speaks, but his eyes return to Seungmin and stay there. Had this one stopped and talked to you on the street, he would have caught you, too.

“Of course. Should we pay your mother a visit? Is she expecting us?”

“I called her and let her know. You’ve already made her day.”

Seungmin is nervous, and his legs are heavy as he walks up to the second floor. Memories are flooding back to him—racing up the four flights of stairs, and always losing because Heecheol’s longer legs carried him further. He has the stamina, but was never very fast. Luckily his arm was made for pitching. Was. Now, for the first time since he was fourteen, he’s wondering if he can still do it.

“She doesn’t get out much since the building has no elevator…just on good days.”

Good days that are few and far between, Seungmin guesses. Her heart won’t pump her blood the way it should anymore, and she’s slowly suffocating because of it.

“But we have a nice view of the water, and spring is coming early”

The front door clicks and creaks as he pushes it open, and the inside looks almost the same as he remembers it. After fifteen years and a move across the world, Seungmin expected some change, but he’s relieved that there’s so little.

“Umma, we’re here,” he calls out softly, and then looks to Seungmin. “Do you want some tea, or coffee?”

“No, I’m okay”

He heads for the kitchen anyway, and whatever he’s doing seems like routine. Electric kettle filled and on, mug from the cupboard, loose leaf tea scooped into a silk bag.

“Look at you, you’ve gotten so tall”

Her weak voice floats to him, and more memories unlock. “Eomoni!” It feels like no time has passed—he feels like a kid again, and he feels safe. Everything was good when he was here with Cheoli and his parents. There was no stepfather around, watching every movement, and judging every word.

“Seungmin-ah, you’ve grown into such a handsome young man.” She takes a few more steps toward the kitchen, but decides to take a seat on the couch instead. Seungmin can hear her labored breathing.

“Umma, where is your oxygen?”

“It’s giving me a headache”

Heecheol disappears into the bedroom, and he returns with a small pack slung over his shoulder, and a nasal cannula in hand. “You should have told me this was almost empty.”

“I have plenty, now you…come over here so I can see you better.” Everything about her, from her voice, to her face, to her informal mannerisms, is the same. She’s older than Seungmin’s mother would be now, but not by much. It’s the illness that’s aged her. “Yes, come sit with me.” His hand is squeezed between hers, and they’re cold against his warm skin. “Cheoli missed you so much, did he tell you that?”

“Umma…”

“What?” She turns, and Heecheol adjusts the cannula to her nose. “He tried finding you when he moved back last year, but he had no luck. And here you are!”

“I wasn’t sure if you had moved or not, but when I found out about…what happened, I figured you moved away.” Heecheol says.

“I live in Seoul, eomeonim. I’ve been there for five years”

“In Seoul? All by yourself?”

“With his girlfriend, umma”

“A girlfriend?” She says it as if it’s a shock, and her hands squeeze even tighter.

“Umma! Please…”

“Hush. How long have you two been together?”

Saying it is going to sound silly, especially considering the seriousness of everything between you. “Four months.”

“Four months?” Heecheol stops what he’s doing to look at Seungmin.

“Yes. It feels like we’ve known each other much longer, though.”

He nods, “that’s good…I’m glad you found someone, Min.

“Do you…?” He shakes his head before Seungmin finishes asking the question. His friend is handsome, but Heecheol has always been very particular about things, and even more introverted than him. He probably hasn’t changed much. “It’s a strange feeling to have someone when you’ve been alone for so long.”

“Yeah, I’m sure”

“What do you do in Seoul?” His mother interrupts, changes the subject. “For work?”

“I own the apartment building my father…my real father, left to me. So I guess…not much.”

“But you do well for yourself”

“I do, I’m very lucky in that sense”

Heecheol heads back to the kitchen to finish the tea he started, and Seungmin sits quietly, his hand still squeezed between hers.

“Soo-ji would be proud to see what a kind young man you’ve grown into”

“I’m not sure about that. I haven’t done—“

“You had to grow up without her. You made it through difficult times and you’re here, and you’re making someone else very happy, I assume. She would be very proud.”

Seungmin thinks about you sitting outside in the car, probably sound asleep, and he smiles. You weren’t very happy with his actions today, but he knows you are happy.

“You’re making us happy right now, Seungmin—Cheoli and I…Seungmin?”

“Yes, are you okay?”

Her voice falls to a whisper. “He needs you. As much as he tries to smile, and work hard, and care for his dying mother…he’s struggling. He’s alone, and I can only do so much for him. There has to be a bigger reason for you walking into that hospital and finding him there.”

No part of Seungmin wants to abandon his friend, but he has a hard time envisioning himself as someone else’s divine providence. Even with you.

“He wasn’t even supposed to be at work today. Cheoli was just covering for another nurse.”

“Here, umma…be careful, it’s hot.” Heecheol places it on the table in front of her, and then his eyes turn to Seungmin. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m sure”

“Oh, I guess we should get going. We’re going for dinner, and I’ll bring you something good back, okay?”

“Yes, good…don’t rush. You two have a lot of catching up to do.”

Heecheol is quiet on the way back to the car, but Seungmin can’t help but see the loneliness in his face now, and in his posture. “How have you been? He stops. They both do, and they face one another at the bottom of the staircase. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I can’t really complain.”

“You can if you want, you can complain to me”

“No complaints right now,” he smiles.

/ / /

Seungmin is surprisingly calm in the busy restaurant, but it’s obvious that Heecheol is distracted by something in his own head.

“I didn’t expect so many tourists this early,” Seungmin says, and he starts to scratch at the bandage on his arm.

You take his hand in yours and pull it closer to you. “Don’t scratch at it, you’ll make it sore.”

“I’d rather it be sore then itchy”

Heecheol doesn’t chime in. He’s staring at your clasped hands, eyes wide and glazed over until you loosen your grip and let go. Maybe he’s not a fan of PDA, which you don’t blame him for. You’re not a fan, either. “Are you and Seungmin the same age?”

“I’m actually a year older, so we didn’t get to have classes together”

A tiny smile tugs at Seungmin’s lips. “That’s why we spent almost all of our free time with each other.”

“So how did you meet?”

“Little league, we got put on the same team”

“Seungmin smiles even bigger now. “The Bears, I think I still have the team photo somewhere at home…” He turns to you, “probably in one of those boxes.”

“I’ll find it”

“Please find it. I lost so many little things moving around. So how did you two meet?”

You decide to let Seungmin take this question, and you hope he can simplify it and somehow make it sound normal.

“Uhm, she walked by me outside of the convenience store by my building, and pretended to be lost…so I helped her home.”

“That’s very cute”

“There was a little bit of chasing, but we figured it out eventually. You said you’re single, right?”

“I am, yeah…I never really dated much. I’ve tried, but it’s hard.”

“You can visit us in Seoul. Maybe you’d feel more comfortable there, being yourself. It’s easier.”

“Easier? How do you know?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time getting a feel for people all over the city. And I’ve taken plenty of them home.” Seungmin cocks his head to the side, and Heecheol’s eyes move between the two of you. “Men, and women…yes. And you would probably do better than I ever have.”

This is the most carefree and comfortable you’ve ever seen Seungmin in someone else’s company. It took what felt like a very long time for him to soften up for you, but this was almost immediate. The moment he realized who he was taking to in that hospital, he started to become lighter; a completely different person—one that didn’t wander into the woods in the dark, or feel the unbearable need to slice his arm open from the turmoil rolling around inside of him.

“Is it that obvious? I guess it is." Heecheol laughs.

“What, that you prefer men? I've known that since I was eight, and we went to that birthday party at the ice rink. Do you remember?”

“Oh my god…uhm, Junsoo, our catcher who couldn’t catch very well. He was turning nine.”

“Right, his older brother was there, and you stared at him the whole time”

“Mhm. Jinhwan. He was twelve, and he was already the best hitter for the senior league. And the best forward on the hockey team. And—”

Seungmin‘s hand jumps up to cover his mouth, and he laughs with his whole body. A sweet laugh, though, the kind that Heecheol can laugh along with and not feel embarrassed. “Yeah, I knew…I knew you like I knew myself.”

“And you were always a mystery to everyone else, but I understood why. We made a good pair.”

“You still do. I don’t hear him laugh like that very often.”

Heecheol turns to you and smiles. “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t feel left out of the conversation.”

“Not at all. I like listening to the two of you talk, and it’s nice to hear him laugh.”

“Still a little mysterious, Mo?”

He rubs at his bandage again. “Not on purpose.”

/ / /

As hard as you try, staying awake on the drive home is nearly impossible, but you shake yourself awake every time you feel yourself slipping. Seungmin has to make this drive, and you know he’s even more exhausted. Finding his friend did perk him up, though, and the music playing on the radio is more upbeat and louder than you’re used to.

“Don’t stay up for me, relax”

“I’m alright. We have a while to go still, so promise me you’ll pull over if you get sleepy.”

“I promise”

He gives you a sweet, sleepy smile, and you’re almost positive you’ll end up in a hotel somewhere tonight. “I like him.”

“Do you? Seeing him again…it felt like no time passed at all, and like nothing bad ever happened.”

“Finding each other again is something special. He loves you, Minnie.”

“We were kind of isolated to each other, aside from the team…but even then, it was just us all the time.”

He didn’t see the way Heecheol looked at him, and maybe it was just disbelief...maybe he couldn’t believe his own eyes—his best friend, back, right in front of him. But you don’t really believe that. Heecheol loves Seungmin the way that you love him; in a way you can’t really describe in words. You can feel it.

His mind goes back to eomeonim and her concern for her son; his loneliness, and believing there’s a reason why they found each other again. But love is a strong word for someone who was there for three years, and then left for the next fifteen. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he looks at you, nodding off again, and remembers your four months together. Things couldn’t get much more serious than they are now. But he needs you…he loves you? Seungmin isn’t sure he has much more to give after you and two children.

“How are you feeling?”

“My arm feels fine, it’s just a little sore”

“Not that…everything else”

“You mean last night?”

“Yes, last night”

Seungmin thinks. He doesn’t know how to answer this, because he still doesn’t remember a single thing between going to bed around midnight, and then waking up at noon. The scratches on his back are itchy now that he’s thinking of them, but otherwise, there’s nothing. Just what you witnessed. “I don’t remember any of it, so…it’s like it didn’t happen.”

“I’m glad you don’t remember, but I wish I knew why you did it”

“Did you see anything else while you were looking for me?”

See? No. Heard? His mother’s voice, whatever is in the woods, and maybe even his stepfather’s voice outside the shed. That hadn’t occurred to you until right this moment. The hey that you thought was Seungmin, it definitely wasn’t. “I didn’t see anything.”

He looks at you, waiting for more.

“I heard things, but…I was tired, and scared”

“I’m sorry. I’m grateful you cared enough to look for me, but I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“Of course I cared enough, I’d do it again if I had to”

“That’s the last time we spend the night there”

The alarm keeps ringing. Why is there an alarm on in the first place? You somehow form that thought and that question in your sleepy, foggy head. The room is still so dark, though, so it can’t be morning yet. Where is he?

“Where are you?” You’re not even sure it comes out of your mouth. “Seungmin!”

“Hey…I’m right here. I’m sorry.”

The bed moves as he crawls up and grabs his phone, turns off the sound, and the room is finally silent. You turn onto your back and pull yourself up against the pillows, but your head throbs. Opening your eyes feels like it might be a mistake.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to shut off the alarm from last week. Do you need anything? Does your head feel any better?”

“A little…I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry. I think I was dreaming.”

“It’s okay”

“My head is better than it was.” His half smile is what you see when you open your eyes, and then his dark hair sweeping across his eyebrows. “Your hair is getting so long.” You reach out and brush some of it away from his forehead, and then your eyes fall to your stomach.

"What time is it?” You set your hand on it and breathe deep, and Seungmin sets his hand on top of yours. Then you switch.

“It’s almost ten, you slept for a while. Oh, I felt something!”

“Did you?”

“Yes, a little kick I think”

“Good, I’m sure they know you’re here”

His smile grows until you see all of his teeth “yeah?” The other hand finds a new spot and waits, but he pouts a little when nothing happens. You don’t feel any kicks or flutters, and he doesn’t either. “It’ll be nice to see them again.”

“What day is it, Min?”

“Wow, you must have slept very well, that’s good. It’s Monday.”

“Monday?”

“Monday the 19th.” He waits as you think. “Your fancy ultrasound is tomorrow. We get to see them in more detail, right?”

“How did I forget?”

Seungmin moves his hand again and waits, and when nothing happens, he’s back up and digging through his dresser for a change of clothes. “They’re wearing you out, but…that’s why I’m here.”

Thanks to him and his attentiveness, getting to week twenty-two was easier than you thought it would be, despite your exhaustion. You’re not sure if this nurturing side of him was always there waiting to come out, or if he’s just been working overtime to be the dad he desperately needed as a child. Whatever it is, he’s doing well.

Seungmin has been okay for the last two months—no hallucinations, no urges, and no truly bad days. He still gets quiet and sulks, but not lately. A new tenant moved in a week ago, and it’s kept him busy until today. The distraction has been good for him, and watching him focus on work was a nice change.

“What are you smirking at?”

“Hm?” His phone is lighting up a smile on his face. It falls a little, but comes back along with a blush on his cheeks as he gets himself under the blankets. “Just talking.”

“Talking?”

“Heecheol sent a message earlier, and I forgot to reply until now”

“Good, I wasn’t sure if you were keeping in touch. How is he?”

“Tired, he said, but he has to work all night so he can’t get any sleep. I was thinking of asking him if he wanted to visit, but only if you feel okay.”

“He can visit whenever he likes, and you two can do whatever you want. Baseball game…night club? Maybe both. You deserve a nice night out.”

“I’ll ask him. Do you think he’d want to stay for a while?”

The idea is nice. “A while…like a weekend? Or a week?” But the more time spent with Seungmin, the more likely it is that Heecheol will see the other side of him, or be around for one of his bad days. “If he wants to. Maybe we can start with a day or two, so we don’t scare him off.”

Seungmin studies you for a moment, and then nods. “Yeah, I guess so."

"I think he would love to spend as much time as possible with you, though"

"I’ve been alright since the whole disappearing into the woods thing, right?”

“You have. You’ve been present, and happy.”

“I’m trying really hard”

There’s a choke in his voice as he says it, and you go back over everything you just said to him in your mind. “You are, I know…and you’re the reason why I’m doing so well right now.” He moves closer until your arms open for him. “You’ve been there for me every single day and night.”

“Have I? Have I been good enough?”

Seungmin still has a hard time believing it, you know that, even as you hold onto him and squeeze him tight.

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 9 months ago

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Different ways boyfriend!Stray Kids say "I Love You"

Warnings : food, mentions of not doing well, brief suggestive in Changbin's

A/N : Been having a hard time the last little while, so I thought I'd make some texts to help me feel better. Hopefully they bring a smile to your face as well. Also if you like TXT as well, please check out my Worlds of Love series ! Thank you 💕

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @babyboyquokka @weird-bookworm

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dazed--xx · 6 months ago

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Changbin Fake Texts!: His parents don’t approve

Minho Masterlist

Taglist: @yangbbokari @lovesunshinefelix

#skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #skz fake texts #changbin angst #skz changbin angst #skz changbin fluff #skz changbin fake texts #seo changbin angst #seo changbin fluff #seo Changbin fake texts #changbin break up au #stray kids changbin angst #changbin angst fake texts

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agi-ppangx · 4 months ago

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family (seo changbin x fem!reader)

no warnings, fluff, husband&dad!changbin crumbles

author's note: teeny tiny drabble bc i thought this idea was cute, lmk if you like it !! also, i opened my requests so if you have any ideas you'd want me to write feel more than welcome to send them to me🥸

“c’mon daddy, go!” you heard your daughter whisper from behind the door. you checked the time – it was late, a bit too late for her to be up.

“jieun?” you called her and heard a small oops. then you saw with the corner of your eye your little copy standing in the entrance to your bedroom.

“can i have a goodnight kiss?” she asked, smiling widely at your reflection in the mirror. you turned to face her with arms spread to hug her and she didn’t waste any second, running into your embrace. you kissed her cheeks and forehead as she giggled. “okay, bye mommy!” she exclaimed, hugging you one more time and running out of the room. you chuckled, turning again to take off your jewellery and brush your hair as you heard your daughter whisper again. “you’ve got this daddy!” she said and then you heard her run to her bed with a sweet giggle, closing the door behind. you wondered what kind of secret was shared between her and changbin as he slowly entered your bedroom with rosy cheeks. he took a few steps closer to you and you met his shy gaze in the mirror.

“what’s going on?” you asked in a curious tone when changbin stood right behind you and grabbed your hairbrush.

“nothing,” he whispered, reaching to your hair to untangle them. it took you by surprise as changbin was never too keen to do your hair before bed. you looked at his reflection but his eyes were focused on his task, making sure to be as gentle as possible. a pleasant shiver went down your spine and you closed your eyes, relaxing into changbin’s bare chest.

“god, this feels nice.”

“yeah?” he asked with a smirk and you let out a faint mhm, but soon he was over, placing your hairbrush down onto your vanity.

“hey!” you exclaimed jokingly, earning a chuckle from him.

“stay still, baby. i’m not done.” with these words he ran his fingers through your hair and gently grabbed it to start braiding it. you watched in disbelief as his fingers worked slowly but with an expert manner through your hair. “you have no idea what jieun’s doll went through for me to learn it,” he giggled, not daring to look at you, the blush on his face slowly making its way down onto his neck and chest.

“wait, is that why you insisted on reading her bedtime stories for the past two weeks?” you inquired as realisation suddenly hit you. changbin didn’t say anything, smirking as he was done with your hair, finishing his work with jieun’s pink hair tie with a little butterfly.

“done,” he whispered, placing a feather-like kiss on your temple, finally locking his eyes with yours. a familiar warmth spread through your chest as you turned to see the aftermath of changbin’s hard work. i love you, the braid seemed to scream. it was small things like that that made your heart swell and beat faster, even after being with changbin for so long. you couldn't stop thinking about the gesture even in the morning as you glanced in the mirror and saw the butterfly in your hair. and as your daughter woke up, running into your arms first thing in the morning and praising your hairstyle you knew you had everything you could’ve ever wanted in your life – a loving family.

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz soft thoughts #skz soft hours #skz au #stray kids fluff #skz changbin #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin fluff #changbin imagines #changbin fluff #changbin scenarios #changbin soft thoughts #changbin soft hours

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outofconcheol · 4 months ago

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resonance (scb x f!reader)

pairing: android!changbin x heiress!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, arranged marriage, e2l (a little bit), sort of cyberpunk au, 18+

summary: Perfection - an idea that’s been drilled into you from birth. As the sole heir to the empire known as Miroh Labs, you’ve watched technology and tradition collide. However, your family’s latest venture is one that puts your own fate in limbo – ambitiously arranging a marriage to an android of their creation, known as C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N. Grappling with the idea of marrying a machine, you come to realize Changbin is more than a set of intricate codes – the profound depths of his abilities are capable of changing the fabric of society, and you, forever.

warnings: strained parent child relationships (OC's parents are jerks), mentions of past abuse (very mild and not described in detail), class differences, failed past relationship references numerous times, cameos from Chan, Jisung, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Yuna (ITZY), fair warning OC is a lot, Changbin is precious, self-doubt and negative feelings, arguments, alcohol, blood and injury, swearing, genetic engineering, talks of self-determination and agency, Streetlight my beloved makes an appearance

word count: 12k

a/n: happy (belated) bday to my beloved Changbin (almost a month later, nice)! i hope this is enjoyable and worthy of someone as wonderful as Changbin seems (i might have slightly fallen in love with him while writing this, don't look at me). the lovely banner is by Sarah (@caelesjjk). I hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension (lots of it), making out, kind of hatefucking?, sex outside (against a railing), clothed sex, dirty talk, brief nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex (just because Changbin can doesn't mean you should), honestly more mild than the warnings imply

It’d been years since you’d seen candles - forgotten memories of birthdays past that faded into oblivion. Their warm, nascent glow had flickered much like your own life had, the comfort of past years giving way to the bright, grating pixels of the lights that illuminated New Domino - bright pinks, vivid greens, cool blues and silvers. Lights that greeted you from your window when you went to bed every night, reminding you that no matter how much your life stalled, the city never would, much of it your own family’s doing.

The years before Miroh Labs, your family’s company, took hold of the city, became difficult to recall — before the towering skyscrapers blocked out the sun, neon lights replacing its rays, technology weaving itself seamlessly into the fabric of your lives, like the patterns on your dress.

Picking at the threads – you wonder if someone had put love and care into intertwining each one, meeting perfectly to create the image of a flower. But the thought quickly dispels — knowing that a specialized machine was behind it, or an android doing the work that was once meant for humans.

Resonance, your family prided themselves on saying. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – only it’d progressed beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Systems had advanced from being motherboards connected to screens to full blown humanized machines, who not only had to ability to perform human functions, but excel at them when it came to speed, efficiency, and cost.

The thought of it made you sick to your stomach. As the presumptive heir to Miroh Labs’ empire, you’d seen firsthand how ambition had slowly given way to greed, your family creating and creating and creating, giving no mind to how their projects always seemed to end up in the hands of the city’s elite.

You’d been to the outskirts, the fringes of society failing to catch up with the advancement of the inner city, a ruined wasteland where people struggled to find work to bring home food for their families.

But they had candles, you muse, smiling lightly to yourself, remembering how you’d passed by a home once, devoid of any electricity, a single candle flickering in the window, the family huddled around their only source of light. It had brought them closer in ways that you could only dream of.

Which is why the intimate setting of the dining room shocked you today – lights dim, candleglow every prominent. Except instead of comforting you, it felt strangely eerie, casting shadows on the faces of your parents, seated at the head of the long table, your own chair pulled out at the very opposite end.

Of course - your parents spared no opportunity to turn even the simplest of dinners into a boardroom meeting. Wincing, you feel the chair screech as you slide it across the cool tile, the sound grating your ears, which have begun to ring, pain throbbing at your temples.

The food is untouched, grave expressions on your parents’ face, and it’s your father who breaks the deafening silence.

“There’s a new project we want you to be a part of—”

“Forget it,” you pick at your plate. “I’m not interested. It’s not like I can contribute anything useful anyway.”

“This one’s different,” your mother’s voice cuts you off, and it’s softer, more gentle than you’ve ever heard it. For a moment, you could believe she actually cared.

Your father’s footsteps reverberate against the tile, walking over to your side of the table. A picture is set in front of you – a man. Dark curly hair, full lips, a strong jaw, the faint hint of muscle underneath his shirt. But it’s his eyes that pierce through the page – stark hazel. Your throat feels tight, closing in on itself.

“New employee?” you ponder, even though you know it’s not the answer.

Hazel eyes were for androids — no human would have eyes so piercing, ones that could glint in the darkest room, or pale in the brightest sun.

“___, meet C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Advanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. Our pride and joy.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the words, knowing they’d never applied to you – you with your rebellious streak, your lack of achievements, your failed engagement to a man that was far too good for you.

Hyunjin’s face flashes in the back of your mind, and you fight to keep your expression from shifting.

“C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N was created for a very specific purpose you see — he’s been built and programmed to be the perfect companion. To provide all the qualities that one would normally seek in a spouse. Although humans are falliable, C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N is not. But we need a beta tester.”

The reality of what your parents are proposing dawns on you, horror creeping up your spine.

“No–,” you begin to protest, but you’re cut off by a wave of your father’s hand.

“The announcements have already been uploaded to the city-wide servers. Starting tomorrow, news of C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N’s launch will go live, along with your engagement announcement. The wedding will be held in a week’s’ time.”

You look despondently to your mother, hoping the pain in your eyes is enough to dissuade her. Were you really that worthless to your parents that they’d hand you to a hunk of scrap metal, dooming you to loneliness for the rest of your life?

Your mother shakes her head. “___, dear, this is the least you can do for us, and for Miroh Labs. Especially given everything that’s happened.”

They always wielded it against you — the fact that you were hard to love. You hadn’t been enough to persuade Hyunjin to stay, and they’d experienced the fallout from whispers all around New Domino. Now, you were barely human in their eyes, not even equal to, and probably lesser than this machine they’d fabricated, one whose fate had become irrevocably intertwined with yours. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

When Changbin wakes, everything is a blur. While his lungs don’t burn for air, his circuits are driven haywire anyway by the new environment - the harsh gleam of fluorescent lights, the gentle whirring of motors, the coolness of the metal table. It hits him all at once, and he’s tempted to close his eyes again, to return to the darkness of being powered down.

A figure looms over him, a taller man in a lab coat, his eyes gentle and full of concern, almost as if he’s holding his breath looking at Changbin.

“Hello C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, my name is Chan. I am one of the lead research developers at Miroh Labs. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Changbin feels his system boot up, gentle heat spreading through the center of his body, all the way to his fingertips.

“Good morning, Chan. I am C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Andvanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. How may I be of assistance?”

His voice reverberates through his speakers, a monotonous tinge resounding against the empty walls of the lab, and he watches Chan’s face twist,

“Do you know why you’re here right now?” Chan asks, curiosity in his gaze.

“I am an advanced computer-human android, programmed to fulfill the role of a partner. My duties and capabilities include companionship, emotional support, and assistance with domestic tasks, designed to blend into one’s life seamlessly.”

As he speaks, Changbin notices his sensors blinking, watching different parts of his arm, chest, and the rest of his body light up as various programs are activated.

Chan slides something in his direction – a sheet of paper with a picture on it. He takes a look at it, his cameras analyzing the woman in the photo. Everything from the colour of her hair to the tiny mole on the back of her hand, to the way she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, perhaps evidence that something is different with her psychology from normal humans.

“This is ___, the next in line to be CEO of Miroh Labs. You will be her future companion,” Chan sighs heavily. “The family has already gone live with the announcement for the wedding, we only have a week to prepare.”

Changbin’s sensors beep, red lights blinking while he processes what Chan is saying, and Chan looks on, a deep furrow in between his brows.

“A w-week?” Changbin, stutters, and Chan already wonders if there’s something wrong with his circuitry. That couldn’t be possible though, the ___ family had tasked him with working on this for the better part of nine months, dedicating each and every hour of his spare time to this endeavour. He brushes off the thought, knowing that there was no way your parents would proceed unless everything was guaranteed to be perfect. After all, the motto of Miroh Labs was to create a more perfect world.

Changbin straightens, legs swinging over the edge of the table as he rises, standing slightly shorter than Chan.

“I understand my responsibilities, Chan. I assure you I will carry them out to the best of my abilities, until ___ is nothing less than satisfied.”

Chan looks at the android in front of him, his face softening. For a moment, Changbin looked as real as him – from the way his hair curled to the strong lines of his body. He almost reminded him of a younger sibling, and a protective instinct washed over Chan.

“I know you will Changbin. But there’s also something you should know.”

Changbin looks up with anticipation at Chan, wondering if there was a new program Chan wanted to add, and whether that meant he had to wait before he could meet ___.

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but should you ever decide that this is what you want, or that you desire to do something different, to be somewhere else, there’s always a way out. You’re more than just an android Changbin.”

Changbin’s processors began to hum. More than just an android? It didn’t make sense to him. His programs were designed to be the best, to cover every single duty one could expect from a partner. What more could there be? Still, Chan’s words sparked intrigue, and he saved a recording of them to his memory, just in case they would be useful later.

“Alright then Changbin, shall we get started? There’s a lot we need to go over about ___ before the wedding happens. Her favourite colour, favourite foods, the layout of her apartment … these will help inform your programs to adapt even more perfectly to your duties,” Chan’s voice is calm and even, with no hints of the darkness of the previous conversation in his tone at all.

They tour around the laboratories, Chan introducing him to the new world he was now expected to be a part of — from the windows, Changbin looks out onto New Domino, watching the hovercrafts zip down the neon-lit streets, and the skyscrapers graze the clouds, a dense fog covering up the skyline.

Changbin listens intently as Chan goes on, his motors continuing to whir and sensors lighting up as each new piece of information is revealed — the new dimensions of his existence seemed vast and overwhelming, and he worried whether he’d be up to the task, knowing what happened to androids who were faulty – they were deprogrammed, becoming no more than scrap metal to fuel the fires of those on the fringes of society. Shuddering at the thought, Changbin knew he had no choice but to succeed. All he could hope was that you would accept him too.

Goosebumps rise all along your arms — you feel the thorns of the roses prick your fingers as you clutch the bouquet in your hands tighter, listening from behind the door as the muted whispers of the guests fill the ceremony space. You can hear cameras going off, preparing yourself to be met with a grand scene - shimmering lights, velvet drapes, everything bathed in opulent hues of gold and silver.

There’s an uncomfortable buzz – everything had happened so quickly. From the invitations going out to the details being finalized, you’d had little to no say in any of it, the uncomfortable lace of the dress you could barely voice your resistance to scratching against your skin, setting it on fire. For once, you wished you could down a glass of champagne or two to keep the nerves at bay.

A pit settles in your stomach once the door opens, and you’re blinded by the twinkling lights of crystal chandeliers. Heart pounding in your ears, you move automatically without thinking, heels clacking against the polished marble floor. Everything around you is a blur – senses in overdrive, it all melds together. The bright flashes of the photographers, the uncomfortably cold temperature of the room, even the soft tones of the piano becoming grating to your ears.

The only thing that remains clear is the figure waiting for you at the end. You suck in a breath – seeing Changbin for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how stunning of a specimen he was. Of course, he’d been designed to be crafted to perfection, but he was beyond flawless.

Clad in a black tux, the fabric hugs his broad, muscular, frame and tapers at the waist, highlighting his athletic build. His dark hair is swept away from his forehead, exposing the prominent angles of his face. The put-togetherness of his appearance must only serve to highlight the chaos of your own, the makeup doing little to cover up the lack of sleep you’d dealt with ever since that fateful meeting with your parents.

Coming up to the altar, Changbin extends his hand in your direction, and you’re shocked when you feel the warmth of his hand. Sparks jolt where your skin makes contact, and for a moment you forget that he’s not human like you, a jumble of circuits and running electricity. But it floats away when his posture goes rigid once again, with no hint of emotion on his face.

Mechanical – that’s how every bit of this felt. From the brittleness in the officiant’s tone as he droned on about the sanctity of marriage, to the pointed stares and light din that surrounded what should have been a sacred moment – two souls joining together as one. But Changbin didn’t have a soul. And you weren’t sure you did either. The two of you were just glass figurines, put on display for everyone to ogle, cogs in the machine of this elaborate public spectacle that your parents had crafted.

For a brief moment, you wonder if Hyunjin’s somewhere in the crowd, eyes widening as you search frantically for him, the one person who could have been your out, your chance at a normal life. But not a single face stands out to you – a crowd of strangers looking back at you. A bead of sweat pools at the base of your neck, and you suck in a breath.

You feel fingers wrap around your own, Changbin’s hand coming to clasp around yours, and it takes a moment for you to reorient yourself to the scene going on around you. The officiant is asking you to join hands, ready to repeat the vows that will join you and Changbin together.

Changbin’s eyes bore into yours, the hazel containing more depth than you’d imagined for an android.

“Are you ok?” the words are whispered so quietly you may have almost missed them. In fact, you believe you might have missed them, unable to believe what’s coming out of Changbin’s mouth. His voice is deeper than you’d expected, gravelly yet with a pleasant tone, far from the flat and monotone affect you’d expected.

Either two things could have been true in this moment: 1) Changbin knew you better than you knew yourself, or 2) he was malfunctioning, a slip in his meticulous programming. But androids weren’t people, they weren’t capable of feeling for people. They were only capable of completing the tasks set out for them.

You drop his hand, lips parting, unable to croak out a reponse for fear of arousing suspicion. But the moment is over before you’d even had a chance to respond, buried underneath his calculated rigidness once more.

The knife twists deeper in your gut when your lips curl around the “I do”, the words sounding as artificial as Changbin’s own, sealing the vows that doomed the two of you to a loveless existence by each others’ side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you pull the heavy diamond earrings out of your ear, setting them on the cool crisp marble of your bathroom counter, rubbing at your burning earlobes. Alone in the comfort of your bathroom, you feel like you’re finally able to breathe again. And that’s when it all hits you, the gravity of what had just transpired weighing on you with the force of a heavy boulder.

Throat closing in on itself, you struggle to breathe, doubling over as tears fill your eyes. Fingers, shaking, you fumble with the laces of your dress, until the tightness is removed from your rib cage and you can finally breathe again, the dress falling to the floor.

If Hyunjin was here, he’d help you take it off, his fingers dancing delicately across the skin of your back. He’d remove the pins from your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your head in the spot where each one of them had been, until you finally grew tired of his teasing, pulling him in to meet your lips. If Hyunjin had been here, your wedding would have been full of love and joy and laughter, the most vivid of paintings come to life. But you’d lost him, and now yourself. You were alone.

A distant clanging jolts you from your misery, and you slip into your pyjamas, softly padding out from your bathroom to see what the commotion was about. Immediately, you’re hit with the aroma of savoury garlic and herbs, stomach rumbling in response. You’d barely eaten anything the whole night, scared that whatever you tried to would just come back up due to the gnawing feeling in your gut.

It hits you that you were no longer alone in this apartment — there was another being here now, one who’d managed to crawl inside the walls that you’d kept up. Changbin had no choice but to be here with you, to see you at your most vulnerable and exposed.

The hallway is dark as you make your way to the kitchen, pausing when you see Changbin bent over the stove, a crisp white apron around his waist. He’d changed too, clad in a comfy pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt that showcases his wide shoulders.

The grumbling of your stomach gives you away – Changbin turning to see you at the threshold, his face lighting up in a smile. You notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes, restrained and polite – like the ones that littered the billboards of New Domino, promoting the latest breakthroughs.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he assures you. “I made aglio e olio.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the Italian dish he’d mentioned — one of your favourites, but it sours when you think about how he’d probably been trained by the researchers to know your preferences. If it had been another person, maybe he would have made kimchi jigae or maqluba. It meant nothing.

“Smells great,” you manage to croak out, grateful for the hot meal. In a few moments, the table is full of two steaming plates of pasta, Changbin taking his place at the other end. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to sit next to you, allowing you to eat in piece. Silence passes, filled only with the clanging of forks, and you watch Changbin bristle in his chair. He pauses every few moments, like he wants to say something, but holds back, until you can no longer take it.

“What is it?” you spit out, uncaring at how harsh the words come across. Changbin doesn’t flinch, but you watch lights run across his arm, whirring emanating from him, like he’s trying to process your actions. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” he asks, and you’re taken aback. You hadn’t expected such a simple, yet earnest question. You’d half-expected him to ask you to rate his skills from one to ten, like the surveys that popped up whenever you dined out at a fancy restaurant.

“It was delicious,” you refuse to lie. The pasta had quelled the burning hunger you’d felt, making you considerably less irritable, and Changbin whirs to life again, processing what you’d just told him.

You help him clean up, the two of you working in tandem to clear the table, carefully skirting around each other. Shadows dance across the wall from the city lights reflecting through the window.

Warmth emanates from Changbin, as you feel his heavy breath fan the back of your neck, startled by how life-like it actually felt. You realize you’re caged behind his arms as he puts the dried plates into the cabinet above you, the air growing thick with something you couldn’t name.

Turning around, you’re pressed against the hard planes of Changbin’s chest, and you lurch at the way your body comes to life against his, nipples peaking in the cold air.

A light flickers at Changbin’s temple, and he studies you curiously, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your breathing quickens.

His gaze lingers on your lips, leaning in closer. But before he can meet yours, you’re pulling away, shame and guilt in your chest. This wasn’t real. None of it was. And the sooner you learned to accept it, the less miserable both of you would be.

“I’m tired,” you whisper into thin air, turning your face away from his. “I want to go to bed.”

You swear Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment before he straightens, responding with the mechanical tone you’d expected all along.

“Of course, you must be exhausted from today.”

You falter, not knowing whether he’d follow you into your room. Now that you were married, it was expected you’d share a bed. Stepping away, you’re relieved when he doesn’t follow.

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, your mind replays everything that had happened – the fake fanfare of the wedding to Changbin asking if you were okay, to whatever had just happened now. Changbin couldn’t have wanted to kiss you, right? He lacked his own desires. Someone had probably told him that was what couples did.

The softness of your sheets and the light streaming in from your window did nothing to quell the turmoil arising within you – your room no longer felt like the safe refuge it had once been, where you could shut out the rest of the world.

In the silence of the night, the weight of what your life had become settled heavily on your chest. Once full of warmth and love, it was now cold and unfeeling, as clinical as the hallways of Miroh Labs.

For a brief moment, you hear steps come towards your bedroom, before they retreat. The hallway light flickers, before it’s turned off, and you’re able to retreat into the darkness once more.

No, you’d told your parents when they’d brought up the idea. Absolutely not.

As usual, your pleading fell on deaf ears. The invites had already been accepted, your dress had been arranged, and a night filled with mindless drivel and booze chatting with the city’s elite waited for you and Changbin.

You hated it – this pretending. At home, it was easy to accept, the way you and Changbin moved around each other, the uneasiness of that first night permeating every interaction you’d had after. But out here, in New Domino, the pretending had to happen. You had to play the part of a couple in love.

Changbin took to it easier than you’d expected. You’d nearly stumbled the moment you’d stepped out of your room, watching him turn to you with hands tucked into the pockets of yet another black tux. You briefly wondered if it was the exact same one he’d worn to the wedding – it wasn’t like there was a need for him to have different outfits, since his clothes never got dirty.

You hoped Changbin didn’t notice your gaze lingering on just how good he managed to look – outshining even your emerald silk gown. You wait for the same from him – a falter, a nod, some sort of acknowledgment that he was just as taken by you. But it never comes, his arm slipping stiffly into yours.

The car ride to the gala is silent, a sea of nerves and anxiety filling the space between you two. The lights from the city pass you by, illuminating Changbin’s face in a strange, yet beautiful glow.

However, you barely acknowledge it, lost in thought while watching the cars speed by on the freeway. Before long, the glittering lights of the manor greet you, and it feels as though you’re transported back in time. As much as the upper echelon of New Domino loved their androids and their hovercrafts, nothing could replace the value of a night full of egregiously expensive liquor and brainless chatter about how far society had come, knowing they’d done little to contribute to it besides emptying their pockets.

Changbin lingers by your side, and you’re painfully aware of his scent – the one he’d chosen for tonight. Black leather and sandalwood saturate the air in between you, and you notice the stares from other guests as the two of you weave through the crowd, you in search of water to clear the pounding headache that had begun to form at your temples.

For how out of place he is, Changbin dances the dance of your peers well – meeting their fake smiles with a polished one of his own, waving and happily introducing himself to anyone that passes by.

It shouldn’t bother you that none of it directed at you – you told yourself you didn’t want his affection, that he could never give you what he desired. So why did it bother you when he stops one of the hostesses for a glass of champagne, watching her face turn sour when he swerves to hand it to you?

You down the drink before he can even blink, moving away from him and further into the throng. Your head is buzzing, and you feel the alcohol come straight back up, rushing to the bathroom when you hear it – a soft whisper, but it cut through the music like a blade.

“It’s almost amusing,” a woman says, “to see such a flawless machine with someone so... human.”

“You know what happened with her last engagement, right? Hyunjin left her for another woman…”

It’s too much to bear, bile rising in your throat, before you feel a hand on the small of your back. If Changbin was human, you’d almost expect his knuckles to turn white with the force he uses to grip your waist.

“I suggest you keep your unwanted comments to yourself,” Changbin seethes, watching the guests turn pale. You sway under his touch, head spinning from the combination of alcohol and Changbin coming to your defense, before he’s leading you away, the crisp night air from the balcony nipping at your backs.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you gently, while you watch the same light at his temple flicker.

None of this was okay. None of it at all. But you didn’t want to make him understand how much was wrong with you being here with him, when it should have been someone else, someone you actually had loved.

“It’s fine,” you clear your throat, peeling his hand from your waist. His touch continues even after you’ve removed his fingers, and you shiver.

You were used to it – the stares, the whispers. They’d followed you your whole life, the cuts left in their wake eventually turning into hardened scars. You didn’t need defending, least of all from him.

“I’m going to leave,” you tell him, stepping away. “You’re free to stay. Please don’t let me ruin your evening.”

“I can go with you,” his voice echoes from beside you, “I was getting tired anyway.”

A sick, twisted laugh bubbles from your throat at his insistence. Changbin didn’t get tired, he couldn’t get tired. He wasn’t like you.

“Stay,” your voice is resolute. “That’s an order, Changbin.”

Changbin turns to face you, recoiling at the red rimming your eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent when the lights of the manor illuminate you from behind.

You don’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Your paralysis slowly melts away and you’re pushing him away without realizing it, walking away without another word. You don’t dare to turn around, knowing your heart would twist when you found Changbin looking at you again with that same blank expression – the one you’d come to know all too well.

Dawn is is barely trickling when you slip out of your apartment. Passing by the living room, you notice Changbin in the corner, standing against the wall. For a moment, he looks so peaceful you would almost think he’d fallen asleep. However, you take one look at the outlet and realize he’s powered down for the night, free from his duties of following you around. A pang of annoyance rattles through you. It should have been romantic, knowing Changbin had no point to his existence if it didn’t revolve around you. All it did was made you sick to your stomach instead.

Curling your jacket tighter around you, you duck your head down, few vehicles on the streets due to the early hour. The city seemed eerie yet peaceful at dawn, the dim rays of sun barely breaking through the clouds, casting everything in a soft orange glow. Such a stark contrast from the bright neon and gray that tinged its walls at every other time of day.

With only the sound your heels slamming against the pavement to keep you company, your walk slips into a run as your coat flies behind you, the wind whipping through your air. The city is soon left behind, tall skyscrapers giving way to modest brick houses, plumes of smoke wafting through the air.

Fire. You smile at the thought of it. Fire meant happy homes, with happy families. Families who relied on each other, who loved one another.

The haze that had clouded your head last night seems to have subsided, head clearer from the fresh air. But thoughts of Changbin cease to depart as easily, and it leaves you to wonder exactly where you stood with him.

He cared, more than an android should. For a moment it almost seemed like maybe he–

You shake the thought away, rounding the corner, shoulders immediately slumping in relief when you see the worn-out sign of the clinic.

“___?” a voice calls out to you. “Is that you?”

“Hello Jeongin,” you smile at the younger boy who bounds down the steps when he sees your figure standing outside, hair windswept and cheeks flushed as he comes to a halt next to you.

“Noona, what are you doing here?” he asks, and you feel yourself shrink underneath his sincere gaze.

“What do you mean? I always come by this time every week,” you raise an eyebrow, watching Jeongin bounce on the balls of his feet.

“But noona, you’re married now.”

You freeze at his statement, not realizing that the news had reached here too. Jeongin’s eyes are alight with excitement, and you know he’s going to ask questions that you don’t have the heart to answer.

As if he can sense your trepidation, Jeongin ushers you inside, the warm smiles of the elderly patients you’d come to know and love greeting you.

Before long, the two of you are at work, you helping them fill out their paperwork while Jeongin works to check their vitals and bring them back for the doctor to see them. All the while, you’re regaled with stories about their lives, including lost loves, mischievous grandchildren, and fond memories of a time that has since passed.

This is why you loved coming here. It reminded you that away from the hustle of New Domino, actual life existed. Life imbued with meaningful moments, connections, and people. Something that society seemed to have forgotten.

“You have such a beautiful smile,” one of the regulars, Miss Choi, pinches your cheek affectionately. “It’s such a shame we didn’t see it in any of your photos.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, shoulders tensing. “I guess Jeongin must have shown everyone.”

“Of course dear, you looked lovely. And such a handsome groom too!”

She titters, and you ponder about whether or not she knows the actual details of your wedding, of who Changbin really was. Even if she did, would she understand it? Even though he’d long since passed away, Miss Choi had a husband who’d loved her, who was capable of loving her. She wasn’t a victim of someone else’s greed, of their ambition. She’d never understand the kind of abyss that New Domino had become, and if she did, she’d probably be horrified.

You pat her shoulder, hoping she can’t see the way your breath hitches, before you’re rushing to the back, curling in on yourself as sobs wrack your entire body.

Jeongin is by your side in seconds, a steady arm on your shoulder, and you lean into the younger boy, someone who despite not having spent that much time with, had become your one of your closest friends.

“How much of it did you hear?” you mutter, looking at the floor.

“I heard enough,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry, noona.”

You don’t know how long you stay glued to Jeongin’s side, unable to stand upright, the two of you failing to notice the figure watching from outside the window.

. . .

Changbin hadn’t meant to follow you. He’d heard you slip out in the morning, not having powered down completely last night. After what had happened at the gala, his processors had gone into overdrive, replying everything – the whispers of those awful guests, the way you leaned into his touch, to your harsh words telling him you didn’t want him around.

Changbin wonders if he’d already failed at his task – it seemed like you didn’t care for his companionship, no matter how hard he tried. The walls you had built were too high for even his sophisticated technology to penetrate, and he hums, wondering if this meant he’d be deprogrammed.

Chan’s words from before echo in the back of his mind – what did he mean an alternative? Was there another task he could be useful for, even if you didn’t want him?

Not wanting to dwell too long, he trails a safe distance behind you, watching you break into a run, limbs heavy with fatigue, your breathing labored, until an unfamiliar neighbourhood materializes, the grandeur of luxury boutiques and high-end restaurants fading into older buildings.

Finally catching up to you, he watches you embrace a younger man, the two of you walking into a battered, broken down building together. Heat floods Changbin, his gears kicked into overdrive, struggling to make sense of what he was witnessing. Did you already have someone else? Was this Hyunjin, the one who’d left you?

The air turns crisp the longer he lingers outside the door, waiting for any sign. He gets it when he sees a leaf fall, your figure appearing in the window, hunched over like you’re in pain. The same man from before is by your side, offering you his shoulder to lean on.

Changbin doesn’t know what comes over him — he’s at the door before he can think, even rationalize what’s going on.

He waits until your figure materializes from the back, wanting to see who the new entry was. Your lips part in a silent gasp when you see Changbin standing there.

It’s like he’s malfunctioning, gears whining and lights glinting, his jaw tense when Jeongin comes up behind you.

“Noona,” he hears the other man whisper. “I think you should go.”

You nod wordlessly, motioning for Changbin to walk with you, the two of you ignoring the many eyes that follow you, making your way down the dimly lit street.

The wind whips around him as Changbin jogs behind you, watching as you push through the crowds of passerby. You walk and walk, and he follows, watching the houses disappear behind him as you go higher and higher, eventually stopping when the road ends.

The view isn’t even comparable to the one from your penthouse – it’s even better. From the hill, he can see everything – the houses you’d passed on your way, to the bright lights of the city center, to beyond the horizon, where a mass of dense clouds covers the horizon. Which is exactly where you’re looking, and Changbin can’t help but look too, wondering what lies past their cover.

“I used to come here with Hyunjin,” you break the silence. “Before everything fell apart.”

“We’d just sit here and look at the sky,” you continue, words crashing into each other as you rush to get them out. Changbin doesn’t know whether he should reach out for you, but decides against it, not wanting to startle your trembling figure.

“We’d look at the sky and wonder about what the future would look like — a million different scenarios. Sometimes we’d be rich, other times poor, living in the city, living out of it. But we always had each other. Until he decided to leave.”

“We should get you home–”

“Am I really that hard to love?” you blurt out, and Changbin freezes, the naked truth of why you’d been so cold finally exposed to him.

“___, it’s not, you shouldn’t think like this–,” Changbin struggles to analyze this, something far beyond the limits of what his data sets had compiled. This was different, this grief was beyond the depths of his understanding. This yearning for something else, someone else.

“Can you make it go away Changbin? This emptiness that lives inside me. This feeling that my life has never been mine, will never be mine?” you taunt him, knocking against his chest, scoffing when you hear the hollowness of metal.

“You can’t, can’t you? You’re just an android–”

“I’M NOT!” Changbin screams, his circuits devolving into chaos at the sharb jab of your words, Chan’s words coming back to him. “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not.”

He feels sparks inside him, his words stilting as he struggles to get them out. His fingers grasp at the back of his neck, searching for the one button he knows can end this, can put him out of his misery. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

He doesn’t even notice how close you’ve become until he feels your breath fan against his lips, like that first night.

“Prove it,” you whisper, eyes off to the side like you didn’t expect him to listen.

But he listens.

Changbin surges forward, seeking your lips, and you stumble for a brief second, thinking you’ll hurtle off the hilltop, before his arm comes up to wrap around you, your hands tangling in his hair in an instant. The wind howls around you both, yet a shiver ran down your spine, blood pounding in your ears.

His lips were softer than you’d expected, and you capture him with your teeth, drawing him in, a moan bubbling up in your chest.

He feels so real. This felt so real.

Changbin can hardly think either, kicked into overdrive, the feel of your hungry mouth against his, the fervent swipe of his tongue against your lips. You knew this was a bad idea, that it would complicate everything, but you didn’t have it in you to care, hands roaming everywhere, slipping underneath the hem of Changbin’s shirt to trace circles against his hard stomach.

A strangled sound escapes Changbin’s throat, and the two of you part, flustered and trembling, Changbin resting his forehead to yours. Your fingers card through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he moves again, roving down your jawline, lapping at your skin. Despite it being freezing out, a thin trail of sweat trickles down your neck, and Changbin doesn’t miss the opportunity to taste you, teeth grazing as he goes.

“Let me show you,” he rumbles into your chest, voice raspy from the lack of air.

The cold metal of the railing juts against your back as Changbin lunges, his arm locking you into place. Your cry of protest turns into a gasp when he nudges a knee in between your thighs, spreading them apart.

“God, just fucking touch me already,” you seethe, gasping when he thumbs at your nipples through the fabric of your shirt, the swollen peaks stiffening when he tugs them with his fingers.

An ache begins to build between your thighs when you look into Changbin’s eyes, their laser-like focus on you and you only, and that’s when his fingers slip underneath your skirt and straight to where you need him.

“Say please,” he whispers, and for a moment, you imagine the same desperation in his tone that colours yours.

Even when you don’t say anything, he knows from the tremble of your lips and the slight nod of your head that you want this.

The moment he swipes his fingers against your core, Changbin curses, palm meeting the furious grinding of your hips.

Your hands ball into fists, feeling the slick leak out of you, and you whine, a warm flush settling over your body, evidence of its betrayal.

“Pretend all you want,” Changbin hisses. “Pretend you hate me. Pretend you don’t see me. But we both know you want this.”

You try to hold your resolve, your wet cunt leaking even more, walls fluttering around his fingers. One wrong move and you’d go hurtling over the railing. But Changbin’s grip on you is like a vice, which only makes you squeeze harder around his knee.

He changes his pace, circling faster, harder, and your head goes hazy from the stimulation, your hands grabbing fistfuls of Changbin’s shirt. When you feel yourself teetering on the brink, body flushing with anticipation, it all stops.

Panting, you look at Changbin, his dark eyes surveying you hungrily, and you hear the clink of his belt, quivering as you try and spare yourself from being utterly wrecked by the sight of his cock.

“Look. at. me,” he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, your eyes fluttering from the delirium of it all.

Gripping your thighs, he sinks you down onto him. You cry out as the initial pain subsides and you feel his hips snap up into you, pubic bone rolling against your clit.

“Changbin, I, shit-, it’s too much!” you plead, shamelessly rocking aginst him as he sets a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathy moans echoing bouncing from the walls.

Changbin says nothing, planting a messy kiss on your lips, prodding his tongue into the seam of your mouth to taste, and you anchor your palms against the railing, allowing him to roll his hips upward, the two of you moving in tandem.

The fire in your abdomen reaches a peak, a new wave of arousal suddenly washing over you as you feel your hips jerk, coming undone as you collapse against Changbin, stifling a groan against his throat.

Lifting you off of the railing, Changbin’s arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel something wet against the side of your face. Tears.

“Changbin–”

You wobble to your feet, head swirling with emotion, but he’s already pulling away, the faint outline of his figure the only thing you see as he heads off into the night.

Sighing, you pull your glasses down onto your face, hoping they can diguise the fact that despite your best efforts, your night was absolutely restless, swimming with thoughts of Changbin.

After leaving you on the hilltop, he’d vanished, leaving you to make your own way home. And now, not even a day later, your parents had decided to add to your headache by summoning you for a board meeting.

You expected them to ask for updates on your relationship with Changbin, to pry into your life, pretending like they cared. It was what they’d always done.

But you never expected this.

“I–, I don’t understand,” you gnaw at your lip, biting down so hard the skin may break. In front of you, the powerpoint gleams brightly. You can read the words off the slide, but you struggle to actually process them. And what they mean.

The beta testing was successful. Although people responded rather tepidly at first to the idea of a human-android relationship, we’ve gotten more positive feedback and requests to expand than ever. We’re on the verge of a new breakthrough here at Miroh Labs. And we want you to take charge of it.

Your father’s words have been echoing ceaslessly in the back of your mind, ever since he uttered them the moment you walked in.

The news has you deeply unsettled. You’d thought that this was some kind of social experiment, that you and Changbin were some freaks of nature, two outcasts in society brought together as a spectacle for others. You’d never anticipated it would come to this.

Miroh Labs wasn’t just looking to change the future of human-android relationships. No your parents twisted plan took it a step further – they sought to create models beyond Changbin’s capabilities as a companion, ones who would be equipped with the ability to reproduce.

We’d never have to worry about birth rates or a weak genetic pool again.

Looking out the window, you look out onto New Domino, the blueprints reflecting onto the screen, clashing with the holographic displays outside, a stark contrast to the storm that was brewing inside the boardroom.

Face illuminated by the blue glow of the screens, your breath comes out in short, uneven bursts. Your mother reaches out, watching your handles tremble, but you yank them away before she can clasp them in hers,

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss. “Was this all a fucking joke to you? Playing with my life, my emotions, so you could turn me into some kind of laughingstock for whatever sick idea you had?”

Standing up, you clutch the the documents to your chest.

“I’m done,” you declare. If you’d asked seven years ago, maybe you would’ve have done it, so desparate to please everyone around you that you’d say yes to whatever came your way. But now you knew better than to trust anyone. It’d only end up in heartbreak, and you refused to be a part of this sick and twisted legacy.

You needed to talk to Changbin.

. . .

The soft thud of shoes at the entryway feels louder than ever, knowing that you’ve been lying on your bed for the past eight hours, willing the tears to stop. But they never did.

Heartbeat pounding in your ears, you prod your aching limbs to get up, soreness flooding your entire body when you stand. Padding softly out into the hallway, you gasp when you see Changbin there, standing solemnly against the window.

He knows you from even the quietest sound, head turning when you come up behind him. There was so much you had to talk about, so much to address. But you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

You reach behind you to grab the papers you’d stolen,and Changbin’s eyes widen with surprise when you push them in his direction, confusion marring his handsome face.

The two of you stand there while he reads, a multitude of moments passing in silence.

“I don’t get it,” he protests. “This seems like a logical progression. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“You don’t get it, do you Changbin?,” you declare firmly, doing your best to overcome the wobble in your voice. “This changes everything.”

You hear Changbin whir, temple lighting up with red, and for a moment, all there is to fill the silence is the sound of clicking and beeping. Was this it? Had Changbin finally reached his limits.

You’d been thinking about this for hours, about how to tell Changbin, how to break the news to him. You had no idea where you stood without, about how he felt after what’d you’d both shared at the lookout. And despite the thousands of theorized and calculated ways you’d thought of in your head, telling you that this didn’t matter, that it wouldn’t hurt him, you still choke back a sob.

“Don’t you understand? They want to change everything, to alter what it even means to be human? If an android can reproduce with a human, then what’s the point of marriage? What’s the point of falling in love? It all just becomes a stupid commodity, a race to see who can pop out babies the fastest, who can engineer the most perfect spawn. All the meaning from life as we know will be gone.”

Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment, hurt and confusion settling on his face.

“What are you saying ___? Look at me. Please.”

The words come out in a desperate whine, Changbin lifting your face up to his, searching your eyes for a spark of emotion, but all he finds are hollow pools of emptiness.

You take a moment to respond, knowing that what you have to say will be the end of this, will probably drive a stake through the farce that had been your marriage.

“You’ll never understand Changbin. You can simulate every single emotion and fulfill every task. Hell, even if they upgrade you and you’re somehow able to reproduce, you just won’t get it. Because you don’t know what real love is like; all you know is the substitute. And it will never be enough.”

“This isn’t fair,” Changbin chokes out, recoiling. “All I have ever done is my best. All I can ever do is my best. Why is that not enough?”

“I’m sorry,” you look at him, tears blurring your vision. “I wish it was.”

“A-are you going to deprogram me?” Changbin hums, and all of a sudden, his sensors go haywire, every single one lighting up and blinking until they devolve into chaos. Your heart lurches seeing him like this, reaching out for him, but he slaps your arm away.

“Do you know what the worst part of this is ___? It’s not you, or whatever you think you feel. Because you’ve never fucking known what you wanted. No, it’s that, for one fucking night, you had me convinced. Convinced that I was something more than just a hunk of scrap metal to you. Convinced that there was some sick, twisted part of me that actually thought you could love me. But I don’t want you to lie to yourself anymore. I want to leave.”

You don’t say a word to him as he pads out of the kitchen, slipping his coat over his shoulders and tying his shoes.

As he slips out the door, you hears his voice, so quiet that you’re almost not convinced it’s real.

“Forgive me.”

The moon shines on the dark streets, it’s gentle light almost swallowed by their neon glow. Changbin runs, heart pounding in sync with his frantic steps.

Taking in a deep breath, he watches the city melt away again, the night air becoming colder, heavier with the fog of polluted smoke, until he’s there again. The hilltop. Looking out onto the city, he marvels at how it had once been a place full of so much intensity, maybe even love. He thinks back to the feeling of your lips on his, to the way you’d gasped his name. But now he feels nothing but emptiness.

Maybe he deserved that emptiness. Maybe you were right, maybe he could never be more than what he was – an automated program. Maybe it was better that he’d never see you smile again, never get to watch you hum contentedly when you took a bite of food that you loved, that he’d never ever have the chance to even say that he loved you. Because he wanted to, not because he had to.

“Changbin?” a voice calls out to him. “Is that you?”

Turning, he watches as the lithe figure of Chan comes into view, face furrowed in confusion at the sight of an android wandering alone on the streets.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Changbin feels himself shrink, embarrassment cutting deep into him like a knife.

“I had to leave,” he feels himself heat, drive replaying the memories of his last conversation with you. “I had to go, I didn’t know what else to do–”

Changbin clenches his jaw, body tense as he fears Chan’s response, wondering if the other man will laugh at his stupidity.

Androids don’t get choices.

Surprisingly, the look on his face is one of understanding. Chan motions for Changbin to follow him, the two of them heading out into the lonely night.

. . .

The flickering lights of a warehouse come into view, casting long shadows on the ground. Changbin turns to Chan, body going rigid, and the lights cast an eerie glow on Chan’s face, the other half bathed in the darkness.

Stepping through the door, he’s surprised to find it more cosy than industrial, a clean, fresh scent overtaking his senses, one that reminded him of your apartment. It smelled like home. Something that Changbin was unsure he’d ever find.

“Come sit here, Changbin,” Chan motions to a sofa. “Now do you want to tell me what you were doing roaming around at night like that?”

“You told me once that if I decided this life wasn’t what I wanted, that if I wanted to be more than an android, there was a way out. Is that still true?” Changbin’s words sound hollow to his own ears, and he watches Chan flinch in surprise.

“You’ve heard about the project.”

Chan bristles, reaching over to wrap an arm around Changbin, pulling him into a hug, and Changbin collapses against his shoulder. He was so tired.

“It’s not about the project,” Changbin mumbles into Chan’s shoulder, and Chan pushes him away gently. If he wasn’t mistaken, Chan could almost imagine Changbin’s eyes glimmering with tears. “It’s ___.”

Changbin can’t stop the words from spilling out, and he tells Chan everything. Everything from how cold you’ve been, to those little moments of warmth he’d come to live for, ones where your exterior of ice melted into something kinder, more gentle. He tells him about that night the two of you had shared, the one where your walls had come crashing down. And how he desperately wanted them to keep coming down for him every single day. He didn’t know whether or not he was capable of love, but he wanted it with you. And yet, you didn’t feel the same. You told him you couldn’t.

Chan listens to it all, and without saying anything, stands up. Changbin looks at him despondently, wondering if he’d just made a fool of himself, but Chan motions to one of the doors, telling Changbin softly that he’ll be right back.

A few tense moments pass, and Changbin wonders if he’s been abandoned. But then Chan comes back, and he’s not alone. With him is another person, slightly shorter. His long, brown hair curls around the base of his neck, chubby cheeks wide in a huge heart-shaped smile. If Changbin didn’t see his hazel eyes, he would have also assumed that he was human, just like Chan.

Another android.

“Hello, I’m Jisung.”

Changbin’s eyes widen at Jisung in front of him, wondering what someone like him was doing here on the outskirts, where most people were too poor to own an android.

“Jisung used to be a domestic android,” Chan explains. “He worked for a family in New Domino that wasn’t very kind to him.”

“They took advantage of me,” Jisung has a far-off look in his eyes. “In many different ways. But that’s why I ran. Chan-hyung found me in a coffee-shop one day and brought me back to live with him.”

“How did you, I mean, how could you just leave like that? People need you,” Changbin is perplexed at the sight in front of him.

“Do they really?” Jisung counters. “Think about it, Changbin, what do they need us for? To make their lives easier? So they can sit back and reject every sense of responsibility they have towards others? The system we have is so flawed, and there’s so many others out there like me and you who suffer because of it.”

Chan nods his head in agreement.

“Why should you and Jisung have to pay the price for the mistakes of others? Why are you left questioning your identity, your own existence? You could be so much more in society than an end for other people’s satisfaction.”

“I make music now,” Jisung has a soft smile on his face. “Chan-hyung showed me how to use a production software, and now, I can go out to shops, walk around the neighbourhood, and use that inspiration for something beautiful. It’s not much, but it’s better than what I had to live for before.”

“Aren’t you scared, though? Of being deprogrammed, of being replaced?” Changbin can’t help the question from spilling out, his mind flashing back to how you had Hyunjin before him, and how easily you leaned into Jeongin, the employee at the clinic. Who was he compared to them?

“Life is so much more than living in fear, Changbin,” Jisung tells him. “If you just take a chance, maybe you can see that.”

And Changbin wants to believe him, to believe that he can leave this all behind, to start over again. But that would also mean leaving you behind, and that’s something he’s not sure he live with.

As if he can sense Changbin’s trepidation, Chan lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder again.

“You’re smarter than you think, Changbin. You’ll figure things out.”

You stare up at the ugly popcorn ceiling of the gallery. For being a space dedicated to showcasing the beauty of art, it paled in comparison to its inhabitants, cold concrete floors along with walls filled with cracks and peeling paint.

It has to be that way. Otherwise, would you even focus on the art?

The words bring a soft smile to your lips when you think of the last time you’d heard them. They ring true when you look at the painting in front of you – bold, dark colours interspersed with flecks of white. You get what the artist was trying to go for - the brightness of snow gleaming against a hillside, the snowflakes tiny pearls of brightness against the inky black backdrop of the night sky.

Lost in your study of the piece, you fail to notice the footsteps behind you, only turning when you feel a shadow loom over you.

“That one’s new,” Hyunjin says, coming to stand next to you. “Me and Yuna went to Interlaken last winter, you know I had to paint it.”

You bristle at his voice, an uncomfortable feeling bubbling in your chest. You’d always imagined this, meeting him again. What you’d say, what you’d do. Somehow, your dreams always ended with him taking you back. But now, that no longer felt right.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” you breathe out, realizing how stupid it sounds. Hyunjin literally worked there.

“I heard about the wedding. Congratulations.”

“Nothing to congratulate me for.”

“___,” Hyunjin croaks, and you stiffen at your name tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was a lot Hyunjin had to apologize for – leaving you suddenly, ending years of a relationship in one single moment, only for him to turn around and marry your best friend months later. A friend you no longer spoke to.

But it all seemed trivial now – it seemed like the past had consumed you, your demons chasing and chasing until they’d cornered you, leaving you with nowhere to run, no one to to turn to.

You’d had Changbin, and now he was gone. And you were alone, like you were always mean to be.

Your lips purse into a straight line, giving no indication that you accept Hyunjin’s apology.

“___ please, I know I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. I know it’s unforgivable. But please, you have to move on. You deserve to be loved. To have love.”

You’re unsure how much Hyunjin knows about you, or even Changbin, but the bitter regret in the his voice tells you that you weren’t the only one with wounds who’d been festering for longer than they should’ve.

“It feels like I’m trapped,” you finally admit out loud. “I’m trapped and there’s this lead weight that’s crushing me, and I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t even breathe— god, I just want to breathe, Hyun. And I lost the one person that was my chance to live again.” The words come out as sobs, Hyunjin raising a concerned eyebrow, and you shake your head, dismissing his suspicions.

“You care about him. The android.”

“Don’t call him that. He has a name.”

You bite your tongue at the grating response, mouth filling with the taste of blood. Changbin’s words from that night echo in your brain – I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.

He wasn’t.

Hyunjin sees the heat rush to your face when you mention him, the way your entire being changes – your once despondent body coming alive with emotion. And he knows that what you felt for him will never compare to now. Fate had steered you on opposite courses, your destiny intertwined with Changbin’s, his with Yuna’s.

“You know what you have to do then,” are his last words to you before you hear his boots tap against the cold concrete, walking away.

. . . .

The abandoned railway station lay forgotten at the edge of the city, a silent witness to years of decay. The iron tracks were tangled in weeds, and the once-bustling platform was now a graveyard of rusted metal and cracked concrete. The setting sun cast long, melancholic shadows, painting the scene in shades of orange and gray.

Changbin feels the cold metal of the bench against his back, and cards his fingers through his hair. He wonders if the disheveled strands, or the stains and threabare seams of his clothes, make him look more real. More human.

Holding the flyer in his hands, he stares at the face on it, in disbelief that it was once his face. So composed, so put together. So much had changed since then.

Finding Jisung and Chan had been a blessing, but it wasn’t enough. The emptiness remained, filled with thoughts of you, and he wonders if he’ll ever see you again. Whether you even thought of him.

The hum of an approaching vehicle broke the oppressive silence. Changbin’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw headlights cutting through the dusk.

They’d found him. He had to run.

Miroh Labs had always been a prison – your prison. A cold, glowing fortress against the backdrop of New Domino, a place once full of so much promise. The place where you thought you’d prove yourself. But now it was time to let it go.

Chan is waiting for you at the entrance, lips parted in surprise when he sees you approaching. You don’t blame him for thinking that you’d bail. The plan had come together in mere hours, chaos unfolding the moment you’d returned to your apartment, going through every paper, every file as to how you could set your plan in motion.

Somehow, Chan seemed like a person you could trust. You briefly remember Changbin mentioning how Chan had been the first one to see him, shocked at how many of the little details about his presence you’d actually committed to memory.

It scared you, putting your heart and life on the line like this. But it had to be worth it – for the chance to live again, to love again.

“You ready for this?” Chan asked, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your mess of emotions. His eyes glinted curiously in against the backdrop of darkness. voice steady and reassuring.

You nodded, full of determination. It was now or never.

“I am. I’ll take care of the security systems. You get to the servers.”

Chan gives a quick nod, before disappearing into the building.

You freeze, realizing you should have asked Chan if he knew anything about Changbin, where he was, what he was doing. You just had to hope this worked, and that you would be able to later. That was the only way.

The maze of the building is one you slip through easily, the long, dark hallways familiar to you from years of roaming around. You knew every door, where every secret was hidden. And how to shut it all down.

Fingers dancing across the keypad, you find the one you’re looking for. Booting up the system, the lights from the screens bathe the room in an eerie glow, and you begin to type.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered to yourself, eyes darting between the screen and the shadows outside. “Almost there…”

Your phone pings to life with a text — shoulders sagging with relief when you see it’s from Chan.

At the servers. Starting data extraction now.

You shoot a reply back quickly – two mins and i’ll initiate the shutdown sequence.

The two minutes pass by in agony, heart pounding out of your chest at the feeling that you could be caught at any time, that this could end.

The lab’s lights began to flicker and dim, casting an eerie glow over the deserted corridors. It worked.

You tiptoe silently out of the room, breaking into a run when you hear the sirens. You run and you run until you’re far enough away, Chan waiting for you a few blocks away.

“We did it,” he smiles, teeth glinting in the moonlight. “We got what we needed.”

He pauses when he sees you tremble, sobs wracking your entire body. You don’t know why the tears started, but they refused to stop when you think about everything – about how you’d just destroyed your family’s entire future, about how you were free, about Changbin.

His name slips from your lips without even thinking, and Chan freezes.

You hold your breath momentarily, waiting for the bad news to come. But all Chan does is let out a deep sigh of relief, the corners of his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Come with me.”

When Changbin wakes, it’s like the first time all over again. Senses assaulted by a bright light, fear strikes him in the worst way possible. How long had it been since he powered down? Weeks? Months? Had he been captured? Was this the end?

His systems go haywire with the possibilities, until he feels something. A breeze, ruffling his hair. He was outside.

The abandoned train station materializes amidst the fog of his muddled senses, his fingertips coming away with rust when he brushes them against the old, dilapidated bench. Relief washes over him. He was okay. He’d live another day.

The crunching of gravel startles him from his reverie, and he feels someone plop down next to him on the bench.

Turning to meet his company, he nearly short-circuits when he sees you, face illuminated by the sun’s rays. You’re smiling. At him.

Changbin tries to form a coherent thought, but everything is jumbled and clunky. The sun. The air. You. You. You.

You offer him something, and he pales when he sees it, an earbud extended to him.

“I need you to listen to something,” you say softly, and his hands shake as he accepts it, watching you hit play.

The first few melodious notes ring in his ears, and a shiver goes down his spine when he realizes what you’d chosen to show him.

Like a streetlight, like a streetlight

At the end of a lonely day, standing vacantly

In the middle of the lonely night, I try my best to smile brightly

It was the song he’d been working on with Jisung and Chan, the first thing he’d had of his own. The first step he’d taken to becoming himself, to becoming just Changbin. He closes his eyes, losing himself to the music, a tear slipping out at the last few notes, when he feels the weight of your head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Changbin,” you sigh, voice wavering, whisper so low he can barely hear it among the reverberations of the final note.

“I want to fix this,” you say again, more resolutely this time, turning so his forehead meets yours. And you feel the dam break, tears flooding both of you as you collapse against each other.

“Wherever you’re going, I want to come with you. I want to show you that you’re more than enough. Because you showed me the same. Please tell me it’s not too late.”

Changbin nods, his tears mingling with a smile of hope.

“The song. It’s for you. It’s for us. For what we had and what we can still have. I can prove it to you.”

“You don’t need to prove anything, Changbin. You’ve done enough.”

And he had. Somehow, despite having no heart of his own, he’d managed to re-start yours, to show you that you didn’t have to live in the city’s shadows, under the iron grip of your past. That you could be more.

Hope fills your chest – it’s bright and vivid, the force of your love for Changbin knocking you back like a supernova.

Changbin’s fingers brush away the tears on your cheek, shining in the sunlight, and his gaze drops to your lips. You don’t know who leans in first, the next thing you feel being the soft press of his lips to yours. The skin is slightly chapped, but you melt into his touch anyway.

Soon the kiss becomes heated, the roughness of Changbin’s jeans dragging against your thighs as you push yourself onto his lap, prodding the seam of his lips with your tongue.

Here with Changbin, you realize you’d never really been weak at all. Neither of you had. Not like the world saw both of you.

Resonance. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – the ability that you and Changbin now possessed to know whatever the world threw at you, wherever it took you next, you’d come out of it choosing each other every time.

a/n pt. 2: they are totally fucking after this btw (i don't make the rules)! all jokes aside, I'm so sorry if this sucks. I genuinely haven't written anything plot driven in over 8 months so I know there was a lot more I could have done and improved on. If you read this, thank you for giving it (and me) a chance. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @jellyleggz

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