#seo changbin fluff

[linoxpudding]

Inches In Between Us

summary: moment where you and him are caught too close for comfort… or maybe just close enough, tension simmers

pairing: skz x gn!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, forced proximity trope

a/n: this one’s been sitting in my drafts forever (based on this request) I took my time crafting each moment to really bring the tension and emotion to life! comment below and let me know which scene had your heart doing somersaults ♡

Masterlist

~°~

Bang Chan (established relationship)

You flew across two countries just to see him.

You told yourself it was worth it—the late-night packing, the long airport waits, the time off you had to beg your manager for. You missed him. You missed you and him, and those Facetimes squeezed between rehearsals weren’t enough.

But now, sitting stiffly on the plush leather seat of the tour bus, knees locked together and jaw tight with frustration, you weren’t sure why you bothered.

You had claimed the wide back row—meant to seat four or five—but you sat all the way in the corner, facing the window, hoping to be left alone.

Chan’s voice had barely left your ears since the fight earlier—sharp words you both didn’t mean, silence that hurt more than shouting. He’d said he needed space.

So, you decided to give it to him.

Now that the schedule was over, the members and staff had scattered across the bus, most of them slouched in the two-seaters lining either side of the aisle. Some had earbuds in, some quietly scrolled their phones, but no one said a word about the tension radiating from the very back.

Chan climbed in last.

For a second, you thought—hoped—he’d take one of the many empty two-seaters. Maybe even sit with Minho or Changbin, who were already half-asleep a few rows ahead.

But no. He walked straight to the back and slid into the long seat. Not just the seat—but right next to you. Right up against you.

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

In response, he just leaned back with a soft exhale, gaze forward.

Annoyed, you got up and moved to a two-seater near the middle of the bus. You didn’t look at him.

Seconds later, the seat dipped beside you again.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. The quiet, stubborn presence. That familiar scent. The way your thigh brushed against his because the seat was narrow and neither of you budged.

You huffed, loud enough for only him to hear, but said nothing. You didn’t want to draw attention. Not to the fight. Not to how your heart still sped up when he was near—even now.

His thigh pressed against yours, his shoulder brushing yours. There wasn’t enough room not to touch unless you climbed out the window. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You refused to look at him, eyes glued to the streetlights racing by outside. Still, you felt him— his quiet sigh, his fidgeting fingers. The way he turned his body toward you, even if he didn’t say a word.

"You’re really not gonna say anything?" he finally whispered, voice low enough that no one in front could hear.

You shrugged.

"You were the one who said you needed space," you murmured bitterly, still not looking.

He was silent for a long second, then said, "Yeah. I was wrong."

"You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to go away, Chan."

"I know," he said. "That’s why I’m here. In your space. Because I don’t want it. I want you."

“You told me to fly out. You wanted me here. And then you barely looked at me all day.”

Chan’s jaw tensed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You think that makes it better?” Your voice cracked. “I cleared my schedule, booked time off, flew across countries just to watch you pull away from me every second. I know what dating an idol means, Chan, but this—this felt different.”

He looked like he’d been punched. “I know. I messed up.”

He reached for your hand, tentative. You let him, but didn’t squeeze back yet.

“I thought if I focused on the tour stuff first, I could make time for you later. But I just pushed you away, I’m sorry, baby.”

You turned to the window again, biting your lip.

“I was just excited to see you,” you whispered. “And you made me feel like an afterthought.”

Chan exhaled shakily. “You’re not. You’re the only part of this I don’t want to mess up.”

His voice was rough, edged with guilt.

“For the rest of today, I’m yours,” he said, gently pulling your intertwined hands to his chest. “No staff. No members. Just us. And I swear, I won’t let you feel like this again. Let me fix it.”

You hesitated. But you looked at him and there it was again: that open, vulnerable gaze only you ever got. He was looking at you— eyes glassy, sincere, scared.

So you nodded.

He leaned in, his voice even quieter.

"You can keep being mad at me. I’ll sit here the whole ride, touching your knee like a loser, until you’re ready to forgive me. I just… I don’t want this silence anymore."

Your anger crumbled a little at the edges. He was ridiculous. Dramatic. Stubborn. And yours.

You huffed, barely hiding the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re squishing me."

"Good," he said, bumping your shoulder gently. "I missed you."

You let your head drop onto his shoulder, just for a second. “You’re lucky we’re in public.”

He smirked. “Trust me. I know.”

Lee Know (frenemies)

It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. A break from the city, from work, from stress.

A weekend camping trip with all your friends consisting of a bonfire, setting up tents, good food, and no cell service— sure, it sounded cute on paper. Until you found out Lee Minho was coming too.

Minho. The eye-roll king. Your arch nemesis in every group chat and game night. The one who always had something smug to say, who knew exactly how to push your buttons and enjoyed doing it.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of a forest clearing with an uneven patch of dirt under your shoes, mosquitoes humming in your ears, and Minho—a.k.a. your personal plague—stretching beside you like he owned the woods.

You didn’t even want to make eye contact.

“Alright!” Chan clapped his hands. “Everyone gets paired up in tents—but, to make things fun, we’re drawing sticks.”

Groans went up immediately, mostly from you and Jeongin.

“What is this? Summer camp?” you muttered.

“Exactly,” Felix grinned, holding out the small bundle of color-coded sticks. “Pick your destiny!”

One by one, your friends picked sticks, with excitement and curiosity filling the air.

You pulled yours last. It was red.

And then your heart sank.

“Red too,” Minho called casually, holding his up and locking eyes with you.

You blinked. “No. Nope. Pick again.”

He smirked. “Aw, are you scared of sharing a tent with me?”

“More like scared for my sanity.”

You whipped around to Han. “Please, just switch with me. I’ll give you my hoodie—the one you love. Or that extra brownie from earlier!”

Jisung burst out laughing, already dragging his guitar to a fancy-looking tent. “Can’t switch! I got the one with the LED light strip and padded floor. I’m not giving THAT up for your romantic tension!”

“There is no tension,” you barked. “Only rage!”

Minho was already walking toward your sad, lopsided tent, humming like he was enjoying every second of your meltdown. You shot pleading eyes at Chan, at Hyunjin, at anyone—but they were all pretending to be busy adjusting gear or unrolling mats.

Betrayal. Pure betrayal.

Sighing dramatically, you picked up your bag and trudged after Minho, muttering curses under your breath. Grumbling and defeated, you stomped into the tent, tossing your bag to the far corner. The inside was cozier than you expected, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it. 

“Okay but seriously,” you said, peering into the tent, “why is there only one camping mattress?”

Minho, behind you, tsked. “You lost. I shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“You think I didn’t suffer the moment I saw your face and ‘red stick’ in the same moment?”

He didn’t answer, just ducked inside and threw his sleeping bag onto the narrow mattress—if you could even call it that. It was barely wider than your body, lumpy, and definitely not meant for two.

“Oh, hell no,” you snapped, following him in. “That’s not just yours.”

Minho raised an eyebrow as he flopped down and smirked. “You wanna sleep on the floor then?”

“No. You sleep on the floor.”

“I got here first.”

You both stared at each other for a moment. The unspoken war was real. 

“Fine. I’m not giving it up,” you stubbornly said and climbed in.

There was maybe—maybe—three inches of space between your bodies. Arms touching. Legs bumping. Shoulders pressed awkwardly side-by-side.

This was not ideal.

“Stop moving,” you hissed as he adjusted.

“You’re poking me with your elbow!”

“You’re hogging the blanket!”

“Your knee is in my spine!”

A moment passed.

Silence.

Then, somehow—inevitably—you both stilled. The night was quiet outside the tent, filled only with the distant crackling fire and soft murmurs from the others. Inside, the air was warm. Heavy.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Every little breath.

His eyes met yours. And you didn’t look away.

The bickering faded. The closeness became unbearable in a different way. His face was inches from yours, eyes flickering from your mouth to your gaze and back again.

Your heart pounded. Loud. Messy. Dangerous.

“Don’t snore,” you broke the silence.

“I don’t snore,” Minho piped up, rolling his eyes. “But I do talk in my sleep. Usually insults.”

“You’re really annoying,” you whispered.

“So are you,” he replied quietly.

But he didn’t move away. And neither did you. His hand brushed yours under the blanket. Barely touching. But enough to make your breath hitch.

You both leaned in—slow, tentative, until your noses almost touched—

“Yah! Who stole the marshmallows?!”

Han’s voice rang outside the tent and you both jerked away like you’d been electrocuted.

Minho cleared his throat, turning stiffly onto his side. “Sleep. Now.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing, facing the opposite direction.

But long after the outside voices faded, you stayed awake, replaying that moment—one breath away from disaster.

*************************************

The sun had barely risen over the quiet campsite, dew still clinging to the grass and birds chirping in the distance. Most tents were still zipped up, the fire pit long gone cold.

Han yawned dramatically as he and Hyunjin wandered toward your tent, both of them tasked with rounding people up for breakfast duty. "Let’s just yell and run," Han muttered. "Classic wake-up strategy."

Hyunjin shushed him. “No, I want to see their faces. Especially those two.”

Han smirked. “Ohhh right. Mortal enemies sharing a tent. Bet they killed each other in their sleep.”

They unzipped the tent slowly, careful not to wake any potential dragons.

But what they did see stopped them in their tracks.

Inside, the two of you were a complete mess of limbs—your arm flopped across Minho’s chest, his hand loosely resting on your waist, legs tangled beneath the thin blanket. One of his knees was even wedged between your thighs, and your face was tucked into the crook of his neck.

Utterly relaxed. Peaceful. Intimate.

Hyunjin let out a quiet gasp. “Oh my God.”

Han clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Dude. What… the hell?”

Hyunjin grinned. “So the tension finally melted.”

Han whispered, “Yeah. Into a puddle of cuddles and potential kisses? Do you think they kissed?”

Hyunjin smirked, “It might’ve happened.”

They slipped away without waking either of you—though Han did snap a silent photo on his phone, “just for documentation.”

However, the quiet rustling outside was just enough to stir you.

You blinked, stretching a little—only to freeze the second you realized something was very wrong.

Your cheek wasn’t against your pillow.

It was on someone's chest.

Warm. Steady. Rising and falling slowly beneath you.

You shifted just a little—and then you noticed it. Minho’s arm around your waist. One of your legs slung over his. His hand resting lightly on your back.

You nearly stopped breathing.

And just then, he stirred too—brow furrowing, eyes fluttering open. He blinked once. Twice. Then looked down.

Right at you.

There was a beat of silent realization. Eyes locking. Tension crackling in the small, stuffy tent.

Your breath caught. His hand twitched on your back.

“…You—”

“This isn’t—” you both started at once.

You scrambled back in a panic, elbowing the tent wall as you untangled your legs and rolled toward the exit. “I—I didn’t mean to—!”

“You’re the one who shoved me over in your sleep!” he whisper-hissed, equally flustered, hair a mess and voice rough from sleep.

You yanked the zipper open and practically ran out, heart pounding, cheeks burning.

The morning air slapped your face as you stumbled into the open, hoping no one saw. (Too late.)

From the campfire pit, Han and Hyunjin exchanged a look—and then burst into laughter.

Inside the tent, Minho sat up, running a hand through his hair and muttering to himself.

“…So dramatic.”

But even as he said it, a faint, undeniable smile pulled at his lips.

Because your warmth still lingered on his skin.

And that moment—however brief—was now burned into him.

*************************************

Back at the communal camp kitchen, Han was making scrambled eggs while Hyunjin cut fruit, both humming softly. Minho emerged from the trees a while later, hair a bit messy, lips pressed in a line as he poured water into the kettle like nothing happened.

“You sleep okay?” Han asked innocently.

Minho side-eyed him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Han shrugged. “You know. Considering the person you used to say you’d rather fight a bear than share a tent with.”

Minho didn’t look up. “Shut up. There’s nothing between us.”

But then he hesitated. Almost like something tugged at him.

And when he glanced over his shoulder, there you were—laughing at something Felix said, your cheeks squished adorably in the cool air, your hair a mess from sleep. You tossed your head back as you laughed, eyes sparkling while Minho was watching. And he smiled softly. Almost in a daze, like it bloomed out of his chest before he even knew it was there.

Han caught it, catching the way Minho lingered just a second too long before turning back around.

He didn’t say anything.

He just smiled too—watching his best friend quietly fall.

Seo Changbin (friends to lovers)

Changbin’s apartment smelled like buttered popcorn and clean laundry.

It was your favorite place to be lately—low lights, cozy blanket, a ridiculous action movie playing on the screen, and him beside you, warm and familiar. Your legs were tangled casually over his, a bowl of popcorn between you, laughter spilling out as some over-the-top fight scene played.

"This is the dumbest movie you’ve made me watch," you grinned, tossing a popcorn kernel at him.

Changbin caught it in his mouth effortlessly and winked. "Admit it. You love it."

"I love mocking it," you teased, nudging his thigh with your foot.

He caught your ankle before you could pull back, grinning wickedly. “You sure you want to start something?”

You wiggled your toes defiantly. “What, you’re gonna fight me?”

“I could win.”

“You wish, Seo Changbin.”

That’s all it took.

Suddenly, the popcorn bowl was tossed aside, and you were squealing, squirming, as Changbin tackled you onto the couch in a flurry of limbs and laughter.

It wasn’t serious—just a mess of soft slaps, blocked pokes, mock grunts. You wrestled, pushing at his shoulders, but he was strong and quick, playful growls leaving his throat as he countered every move with ease.

“Okay, okay, I take it back!” you laughed breathlessly, trying to twist away.

He caught your wrists.

One smooth motion, and you were pinned flat against the couch cushions, Changbin hovering above you—knees on either side of your hips, hands holding yours gently but firmly down beside your head.

The laughter stopped. Well everything… stopped.

His chest was rising and falling, breath just a little uneven. Your wrists burned under his fingers, not from pressure but from presence. The movie still played in the background, but it was a muffled hum now—nothing compared to the thunder of your heart.

He was close. Too close.

His face hovered just above yours, eyes flickering over every part of your expression—your parted lips, your wide eyes, the heat that was now unmistakably there in both of your gazes.

Neither of you moved.

You swallowed hard. “Are you gonna let me up?”

He didn’t blink. “Do you want me to?”

You couldn’t answer.

Because maybe you didn’t want him to.

Your silence stretched. His grip loosened ever so slightly, just enough that your hands could move if you wanted—but you didn’t pull away. Not yet.

Your fingers curled around his wrists instead, and his breath caught audibly.

“You’re dangerous,” you whispered.

He leaned a little closer, voice low. “You bring it out in me.”

For a second—just a second—he dipped his head, your noses brushing, lips almost meeting. Almost.

But he hesitated. Like he needed permission. Like he didn’t want to cross a line unless you asked him to.

“Binnie…” you breathed, and that was all it took.

His forehead touched yours. Not a kiss, not yet—but his weight above you, his warmth, the want in his eyes was enough to melt you.

“You’re more than just a friend to me,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, but when you look at me like that—”

You surged up just enough to press your lips to his.

Soft. Careful. But charged like fire.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting forever.

Changbin’s lips lingered on yours like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You watched him in that small, quiet moment—his lashes brushing his cheeks, his hands still cradling your wrists. He looked… vulnerable. Not like the loud, confident Changbin who barked laughs and flexed his arms to annoy you. This was different.

He finally opened his eyes and met your gaze—softer now. Nervous, even.

“So…” he said, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Now what?”

Your heart flipped.

You smiled shyly and tugged your hands free, only to lace your fingers with his. “Now,” you whispered, “you help me up, because you’re crushing me.”

A breathless laugh escaped him, and he immediately rolled off to the side, reaching down to help you sit up. “Sorry,” he said, a little flushed. “Didn’t mean to KO you on the first date.”

You both paused.

You tilted your head. “So this is a date now?”

He looked a little caught, but the smile never left his face. “I mean… if you want it to be.”

You nudged his knee with yours. “Only if it ends with another kiss.”

Changbin turned bright red, chuckled, and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re gonna make fun of me forever for this, aren’t you?”

You leaned in, close enough that your noses touched again, your voice barely a breath. “Probably.”

He kissed you again—quick, sweet, like he couldn’t help himself.

Then he got up, held out his hand, and pulled you to your feet. Still holding on. Still close.

“So,” he said again, this time with a grin, “sleepover rules still apply. I’m making ramen. You’re picking the next movie. And maybe later, we kiss again.”

You smirked, tugging him toward the kitchen. “We’ll see if you earn it.”

“Hey!” he whined playfully. “I pinned you! That’s gotta count for something!”

“It counts as me letting you win, obviously.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

And just like that, you were back to bickering—but now, between the sarcasm and the teasing, were shy glances, soft smiles, and the kind of tension that didn’t need words anymore.

You’d always been close. Now, you were closer than ever.

Hwang Hyunjin (crushing on seonbae)

It was your second week as a trainee for a new girl group under JYP Entertainment, and you had already learned that the training schedule was intense. You were still trying to find your rhythm in a world filled with highly talented idols, and it felt like everything was moving too fast. You spent most of your time in the practice rooms, working on vocal exercises, choreography, and dance routines.

One day, after a particularly long session, you found yourself taking a quick break to catch your breath. You'd never thought you'd meet Hyunjin from Stray Kids during your training, but here you were, sitting in the corner of the studio, trying to recover from a grueling dance practice. He was in the middle of a solo routine, and you couldn’t help but watch, captivated by his flawless movements. The way he danced was mesmerizing, and for a moment, you forgot everything around you. You did harbour a huge secret crush on him. 

When his practice ended, he caught you staring, a playful smirk appearing on his face. “Like what you see?” he asked with a teasing tone.

Caught off guard, you blushed, quickly looking away. “Oh! Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No need to apologize,” he interrupted, walking over to where you were sitting. “I saw you struggling with your choreography earlier. Need some help?”

You blinked, surprised by his offer. You had only been a trainee for a short time, and the idea of dancing with someone like Hyunjin made you nervous. But his smile was disarming, and you could tell he genuinely wanted to help.

"Actually, yes," you admitted, standing up. "I can't quite get the moves down for our routine. Maybe you could show me some tips?"

Hyunjin grinned, taking his place in front of you. "No problem. I'll teach you the basics, and we'll see if we can make it a little more fun."

He started by showing you the footwork, his body moving effortlessly to the beat. You mimicked his movements, but the steps felt awkward under your feet. Hyunjin noticed immediately and gave a little chuckle.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Relax. You’re supposed to feel the music, not stress about the steps.”

His hands lingered just a second too long, and you felt a heat rush to your cheeks. You took a deep breath, nodding. “I’ll try again.”

You continued practicing, and as the movements started to feel more natural, Hyunjin encouraged you with small comments here and there. The choreography was getting better, but you were still a little offbeat.

"Okay, how about this," Hyunjin suggested. "Let’s do the next part together. I'll guide you."

Before you could say anything, he stood close behind you, his hand lightly resting on your waist to help guide your movements. His proximity caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. The way his body was pressed against yours, his warmth radiating onto you, was almost overwhelming. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he leaned in to correct your posture.

“Here, just like this,” he said, adjusting your hips with his hands. The touch was gentle, but the closeness made it impossible to ignore the sudden tension in the air. You could feel your body growing tense, unsure of how to act with him so near.

His grip shifted slightly, and you found yourself in an almost perfect mirror of his stance. "See?" Hyunjin smiled, his voice low. "Much better."

The way his eyes locked onto yours made your breath catch in your throat. The dance had become less about learning the moves and more about the unspoken connection forming between you two in the space. His hands were still guiding you, his touch firm but soft, and every movement seemed to bring you closer together.

You both continued practicing, but it wasn’t long before the movements became more fluid, and you realized that it wasn’t just the choreography that was making you feel this way. Hyunjin’s presence, his proximity, was stirring something in you. Every time he adjusted your form, his hand would brush against your skin, sending a shiver through your body. Your heart beat faster, and the air between you felt heavier, charged with an unspoken tension.

At one point, you made a small mistake and spun the wrong way, causing your bodies to collide. For a brief second, you both froze, trapped in a moment of unintended intimacy. Hyunjin’s chest was pressed against your back, his arms still holding you in place as you both tried to steady yourselves. His breath hitched slightly, and you could feel his heartbeat racing against your skin.

You locked eyes, and for a second, everything else faded. The studio, the other trainees, the music—it was just the two of you, caught in this unexpectedly close moment. The space between you was nonexistent. The gentle brush of his fingers on your arm sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Well,” Hyunjin said, his voice now husky, as he reluctantly stepped back, breaking the tension. “I guess we got a little… carried away.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. “I—I didn’t expect that,” you murmured.

He smiled, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, me neither. But hey, at least the moves are starting to look good, right?"

You nodded, though your thoughts were still a little scattered from the closeness you’d just shared. You both stood there for a moment, the silence between you filled with the lingering tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

“Well, if you ever need more help," Hyunjin said, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, "I’m just a call away.”

You gave a small, nervous smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he left the practice room, you stayed behind for a few moments longer, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the dance. There was a mix of excitement and confusion swirling inside you. What was that? Was it just the dance, or was there something more there?

You didn’t have time to answer your own questions because, as a trainee, there was always another routine to learn, another move to perfect. But as you left the studio later that day, your mind kept returning to the way Hyunjin had touched you, the way he’d held you close, and how in that one moment, you couldn’t tell if it was just dance… or something more.

Han Jisung (secretly dating)

It was game night, a regular gathering with the boys at their dorm, where laughter and playful competition filled the air. You'd been looking forward to this night, to unwind and enjoy their company, especially Han Jisung's. You were secretly dating him, keeping it low-key for the time being, but lately, it felt like a secret you wanted to shout from the rooftops. There was just one problem—you didn’t know how to tell the others without making things awkward.

Tonight, everyone was hyped up and playing a board game, the atmosphere light and buzzing with friendly rivalry. The stakes had gotten higher as the rounds went on, and the trash talk was flying. You and Felix had become a bit of an invincible duo—strategizing, making each other laugh, and working seamlessly together. 

But as Hyunjin leaned back in his chair with a smirk and exclaimed, “Oh my god, Felix and Y/N, you guys are totally an unbeatable duo!” the comment seemed to hit differently. Jisung, who had been quiet for a while, stiffened beside you, his eyes momentarily narrowing as he watched you laugh along with Felix.

You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor. A quiet jealousy simmered beneath his usual playful and easy-going attitude. You felt your stomach tighten with an instinctive pull toward him. Felix, oblivious to the shift, was still bantering with Hyunjin.

But Jisung was different. He was unusually quiet, and the energy in the room had shifted in a way that only you could sense. You could feel his gaze lingering on you for a little too long, and it made your heart race—nervous, excited. The tension between you two was palpable, something you both tried to keep under wraps.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but glance over at Jisung. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His playful vibe had shifted into something more guarded. It wasn’t like him to stay quiet for so long, and it made you feel uneasy, like you had inadvertently caused the shift in the air.

Felix was deep in conversation with Hyunjin, while the others were absorbed in the game, but you couldn’t focus anymore. You excused yourself from the table, slipping into the hallway in an attempt to get some space. You figured you could give Jisung a moment to cool down or maybe even talk about whatever had been bothering him.

But before you could walk further, Jisung was there. You didn’t even hear him approach, but suddenly his hand was on your wrist, and he was gently tugging you toward the hallway leading to his room. “Hey, where are you going?” you asked, trying to keep the casual tone.

He didn’t respond right away, his grip firm but gentle. There was a certain intensity to his gaze now—his eyes darkened slightly, and his usual teasing smile was replaced with something more serious. “I need to talk to you,” he muttered, his voice low.

You didn’t say anything. You knew this wasn’t just about the game anymore.

When you reached his room, Jisung quickly closed the door behind you, his hand resting on the handle for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. The two of you stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds, the air thick with unspoken words.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like the way you two were... getting so close. Felix and you, laughing together like that.” His eyes were intense, full of something you hadn’t seen before—something raw. “It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but… it makes me feel something I don’t know how to handle.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You stepped closer to him, instinctively. “Hannie…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“I want to tell them, baby. I want to tell everyone we’re together,” he said, his hand gripping yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles gently, though his voice was firm. “I’m tired of pretending like we’re just friends.” He took a step closer, his face inches from yours now. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel his heart racing in his chest, matching yours.

The proximity was overwhelming, intoxicating, and for a moment, you forgot everything around you—the noise of the game, the others in the house. It was just him, and the desire in his eyes. You couldn’t lie to yourself any longer; you felt the same way. You had been trying to ignore it, keeping your relationship under wraps for the sake of the group, but in that moment, it all felt like too much to keep inside.

You swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I want to tell them too, baby. I really do. But…” you hesitated. “Do you think they’ll understand?”

Jisung’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped your cheek with his free hand. “It’s not about them understanding,” he said, his voice tender now, the tension easing from his shoulders. “It’s about us. I want to be open with everyone, especially with you. You mean so much to me.”

The words hung in the air, a promise wrapped in vulnerability. You were quiet for a beat, the intensity of the moment consuming you. Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. Let’s tell them. Together.”

He smiled, the usual playful glint returning to his eyes, but there was still an undercurrent of sincerity. Without another word, he closed the gap between you two and kissed you, soft and slow, as if savoring the moment that had been a long time coming. The kiss deepened, both of you letting go of the tension and unspoken feelings you’d been holding onto.

When you pulled away, your foreheads touched, breaths mingling. He whispered, “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

You smiled, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Me too,” you said softly.

From that moment on, there was no more hiding. You were his, and he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

Lee Felix (colleagues to lovers)

The music video shoot had gone longer than expected, and most of the staff had either stepped out for a break or were busy resetting lights outside. The trailer where touch-ups usually happened—the one usually buzzing with stylists, cords, and brushes—was now completely empty.

You were the only one there, you were sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone when Felix popped in, flashing that signature grin and muttering, “Hyung said I need my hair re-gelled. Sorry,” like he was inconveniencing you, even though it was literally your job.

“Sit,” you said, trying to sound normal. Professional.

But nothing about Felix ever let you stay fully calm. Not the way he tugged off his jacket with one hand and tossed it lazily on the couch. Not the way his damp dark hair curled against his forehead, making him look more boyish, more human, than the stage idol version everyone else saw.

You stood behind him, gently combing through his roots. The gel hadn’t fully set, and you needed to rework it from the front.

"Can you tilt your head back?" you asked.

He did, but the angle was awkward. He sat too low in the chair, so you had to lean forward, your hips brushing the armrest. When you reached to push his fringe back, your chest nearly grazed his shoulder.

He stilled. You froze.

Then, in one ungraceful second, your foot slipped against the leg of the chair. Your balance tipped forward—too fast to catch. A small gasp escaped you as your knees bumped the edge, and suddenly you were no longer standing.

You landed on him.

Your hands flew to his shoulders to steady yourself, but it was too late—your body was already pressed against his, knees planted on either side of his lap, your faces just inches apart.

His breath ghosted across your cheek. Warm. Shaky.

Neither of you moved.

“Sorry—” you whispered, trying to push yourself back up.

But his hands had found your waist. Not tight, not holding, just there. Warm, grounding. And when your eyes met, something shifted.

“No—” he breathed, voice quieter than you’d ever heard. “Don’t move.”

Your breath caught.

“Felix—”

“I didn’t mind… I mean, it’s okay. I just…” His stammered.

You blinked at him, heart hammering, heat blooming across your chest and neck. You’d danced around this for weeks—maybe months.

The lingering stares, the way his smile always stretched wider when you were near. But this…

His hands were still on your waist. And for a moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was the low hum of a distant monitor and your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

Then, slowly, his fingers reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch barely grazing your skin. The motion was so gentle, so intimate, that it made your breath hitch. And the moment his hand dropped, his eyes widened—like he hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was already done.

“I—I didn’t mean to—sorry, that was—” he breathed, voice shaky.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. His cologne wrapped around you like a net, grounding and dizzying all at once.

“I just—” he went on, swallowing, “God, I’m sorry.”

You stared down at him.

His face was already flushed pink, his eyes still locked on yours like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull you closer.

“I didn’t mind,” you said quietly.

He blinked.

“What?”

Your voice came out softer this time, more vulnerable. “I didn’t mind. That you touched my hair.”

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded.

He exhaled through a breathless laugh, like disbelief. “Because I’ve been trying not to do anything like that since you started.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you,” he said instantly. No hesitation. Just the truth.

“And I didn’t want to make things weird. But God, you’re always so close, and you’re so gentle, and I’m pretty sure I’ve started dreaming about the way you touch my hair—”

You kissed him.

Quick. Certain. Nothing intense, just a quiet yes to everything he’d just admitted.

His hands tightened on your hips, grounding himself. “Okay,” he whispered against your lips, dazed. “Yeah. That just happened.”

You laughed softly and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “It did.”

“I still need to finish your look,” you teased.

He grinned, pulling you even closer. “I think you just did.”

The silence was comforting this time. Not awkward but intimate.

Kim Seungmin (sunshine x grumpy)

When Chan invited you for a quiet weekend at his countryside farmhouse, you didn’t hesitate. It had been months since you last saw your best friend—too many midnight voice notes, too many “I miss you’s” with a sad emoji tacked on at the end. So you packed a bag and drove up that Friday evening, not even bothering to ask who else would be there. 

Chan had welcomed you in with the warmest hug and whispered, “Seungmin’s here. Try not to combust.”

You elbowed him, cheeks warm. “I don’t like him.”

“Sure,” he smirked.

Of course Seungmin was here. Still just as grumpy, still refusing to smile at your stupid jokes, still never calling you by your name—just “you” or “Chan’s friend.”

And yet, somehow, you still looked for him in every room.

By Saturday night, you were full of barbecue, three glasses into a fruity drink, and cozy in an oversized hoodie. Laughter buzzed through the warm-lit living room. Chan had pulled out board games and card decks, and Hyunjin tossed on a playlist. You and Seungmin had exchanged exactly four words since arriving: “Morning,” “Move” and “No, thanks”

After too many rounds of Mario Kart, Chan flopped onto the massive couch and clapped his hands. “Okay, new game. Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“Are we in high-school?” you and Seungmin said in perfect sync from opposite ends of the couch.

Everyone laughed, but Chan just wiggled his eyebrows. “Come on, you’re all cowards. It’ll be fun.”

Chan started spinning a bottle, and before you could sneak away, your name was called—followed by Seungmin’s.

The room howled.

You whipped around to Chan, whispering furiously, “You rigged that!”

“Did not,” he said with a very smug expression. “Enjoy.”

The closet—tucked in the corner of the master bedroom—was dim, a little too warm, and far too tight for two people. The door shut behind you with a soft click.

“I hate them,” Seungmin muttered, already looking up at the ceiling like it might offer a hatch out.

You nervously glanced around in the little space. You took a breath. “Wow. Cozy.”

“Not really,” he said flatly.

You smiled anyway. “I forgot how much fun you are at parties.”

His lips twitched. The smallest, smallest smirk.

Minutes passed. Maybe only one. Maybe ten. You didn’t know. The quiet between you felt heavier than the night sky outside.

Then—he spoke.

“You flew all this way just to see Chan?” he asked.

Your brows rose. “Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” he said immediately, then hesitated. “Just… wondering.”

You took a step closer, trying to read him. “Why do you always look at me like I annoy you, but then keep showing up in every room I’m in?”

His jaw flexed. “You don’t annoy me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He pushed off the wall now, standing straighter, closer. “You’re… too much sometimes.”

You blinked. “Too much?”

“Too much sunshine. Too much sweetness. It gets under my skin.”

You smirked. “Good.”

He gave you a flat look. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not.”

You grinned. “You are. It’s kind of cute.”

He glanced away, jaw tightening, but the pink in his cheeks betrayed him.

You leaned in just a little. “What’s wrong, Seungmin? Closet too small? Or is it just me that’s making you all flustered?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You wound me,” you gasped, hand over your chest. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Yeah, well… maybe tone it down a little.”

You tilted your head. “But I thought I was ‘too much sweetness’ and ‘gets under your skin’—don’t tell me I’m growing on you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m stuck in a closet with my longtime crush.”

Seungmin froze.

Your eyes widened. Crap. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“…What?” he said after a beat, voice lower.

You scrambled. “I mean—not crush crush. I mean like, maybe. Possibly. Okay, definitely. For a long time. Like years-long. But you were always so—”

He took a step forward. You stopped babbling.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you for a moment, then leaned in slightly, voice dry. “Chan told me you’d be here.”

“…Okay?”

“I’ve been trying to act normal since yesterday.”

“That was you acting normal?”

He smirked, just a little. “I don’t flirt like you do.”

“I don’t flirt—”

“Really?” he stepped closer, close enough that your breath caught. “Then what would you call this?”

You were backed against the shelf, heart in your throat, eyes flicking between his and his mouth. He braced one arm beside your head, gaze sharp.

“…Trouble,” you whispered.

He smirked again—wider this time. “Yeah. You’re trouble.”

And then, just before the timer outside buzzed, he kissed you.

Slow, deliberate, and nothing like the annoyed boy who always pretended you were too much.

When he pulled back, lips barely grazing yours, he whispered, “Next time, we skip the game.”

And when the door finally swung open to the cheering crowd, neither of you said a word—but the heat in your face said everything.

Yang Jeongin (brother's best friend)

You hadn’t seen Jeongin properly in almost a year—well you really haven’t seen him much since he’d debuted and got busy with his idol life. But when your brother casually mentioned, “Jeongin’s having a little dinner thing at his place. Just a few of us. You should come—it’s been forever.”  something fluttered in your chest that you tried very hard to ignore.

You’d crushed on him since you were probably twelve, back when he was just your brother’s slightly awkward best friend who always let you have the last slice of pizza. And now? Now he was I.N—idol, heartthrob, and the same boy who still texted your brother dumb memes at 2am.

You didn’t expect much when you arrived—just polite greetings, awkward small talk, maybe a few inside jokes that would go over your head. But when Jeongin opened the door…

Your heart did that stupid thing again.

He looked tired but beautiful, hoodie sleeves pushed up, the kind of soft glow that came from being around people he trusted. He looked mature now—fame-polished, confident, sharper around the edges—but you still saw glimpses of the boy who used to chase your brother through your backyard, who used to steal popsicles from your freezer and grin like he won the lottery.

“Hey,” he smiled, eyes flickering over your face for a second too long. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“My brother dragged me,” you said lightly.

Jeongin tilted his head, still holding the door open. “Good. I’m glad you’re here.”

The dinner was casual, cozy. Laughter echoed through the apartment, plates clinked, and stories flowed like old times. But something about the way Jeongin kept glancing at you when your brother wasn’t looking—when he refilled your drink before anyone else’s, when your knees accidentally touched under the table and he didn’t move away—it felt like you weren’t imagining it anymore.

It wasn’t until later—when everyone was a little too full and a little too tipsy and began playing loud music—that you slipped away to find some quiet. 

The bathroom was unlocked, thankfully, and you slipped in, locking the door behind you. Only to turn around and freeze.

“Oh?” you exhaled.

Jeongin stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he was startled to see you too.

You nodded, suddenly too aware of the small space, the way the air felt heavier between you two. You both stood there in silence, not quite looking at each other. You should leave, your mind said. Step out, apologise, pretend this didn’t feel like something.

But for some reason… you stayed.

His gaze flicked to you, then away. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… needed a break from all the noise,” you said softly. “Didn’t think I’d find you here too.”

He gave a half-smile. “Yeah, well. Guess we’re still in sync.” Then he shifted. “I didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your hands felt clammy. “Yeah, well. My brother can be pretty persuasive.”

Jeongin smiled, then glanced down, almost bashful. For a second, he looked like the boy you remembered—the one who got flustered when you caught him singing in your garage.

You stepped back, “I’ll find somewhere else—”

You were about to step toward the door when he suddenly reached out and caught your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned, startled by the contact. His hand was warm around your wrist, gentle but firm enough to make you pause.

His voice was quiet. Earnest. “How long are we gonna pretend we’re not dying to be with each other?”

Your stomach flipped.

You looked away, jaw tight. “My brother would never agree.”

He chuckled—soft, humorless. “Your brother doesn’t get to decide who I want.”

“Innie,” you warned.

He locked the door behind him.

“Innie?” he echoed, teasing. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

You froze. “Jeongin—”

“I know. Your brother would kill me.” His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “But it’s driving me insane, pretending I don’t feel something every time you walk into a room.”

He stepped in. Close. Too close.

“I thought I was imagining it,” he said, finally looking at you. “But the way you look at me sometimes... it doesn’t feel one-sided.”

“It’s not,” you whispered.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, voice rough.

He pinned you to the counter so easily you couldn’t think straight.

He stepped even more closer before saying quietly. “If I kissed you right now, would you push me away?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you closed the space between you, barely a breath apart. And whispered, “I should.”

“But you won’t,” he said, voice hoarse.

“No,” you breathed, “I won’t.”

And then he kissed you—soft, hesitant at first, like he knew the line he was crossing. But when your fingers curled into his hoodie and he pulled you closer, you both forgot everything but the feeling of finally, finally not pretending.

----------------

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[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly VI

~ part 6 of the Dolly series

pairing: changbin x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, sci-fi

synopsis: Being the CEO of a big company meant you were always buried with work, staying late at the office, never having time to yourself. Your employees have a habit of giving you funny gifts to make you get out and live your life a little, as they say. Even though you expect crazy gifts from them, you never expected to get something that would change your life forever.

wc: 8.0k

warnings: unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m)

~ divider by @bunnysrph

Another sigh passed your lips as you rubbed your temples, the screen in front of you blurring for a moment and making you close your eyes tightly. You leaned back in your chair to stretch, you've been sitting in the same position for hours.

"Wow." you muttered, realizing your legs were actually numb. It was time to get up, at least for a moment, you thought and stood up. You made your way to the big glass windows behind your chair and stared at the view of the city.

Here, on the top of it all stands your dream. You've worked hard to get to where you are, dedicating your entire life only to your career. You knew nothing else but work, yet sometimes it felt as if everything was about to crumble underneath your feet.

A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Come in." you said after clearing your throat.

"Miss, I brought you the papers you asked for." it was your assistant, Maxine. The poor girl had to stay behind with you every time and you made sure to pay her those extra hours well, feeling bad that you had to make her stay here on a Friday night.

You turned and smiled slightly at her, nodding towards your desk.

"You can leave them there. Thank you, Maxine." you said and she nodded, putting the big stack of papers on top of the other, smaller stack you were almost done with.

"You can go home, Maxine. There's no point in you being here plus it's Friday, you must have somewhere better to be than at work." you added and her eyes widened slightly.

"Are you sure miss?" she asked and you nodded.

"Of course, have a good weekend!" you said with a smile.

"Thanks, you too boss!" she smiled back and exited the office, leaving you alone with your thoughts and papers.

You glanced at the table, calculating how long you'll be here but then you noticed a light pink envelope sticking between the papers. With furrowed brows you came closer to the table, pulling the envelope out.

'From your faithful employees, consider this an early birthday gift to the best boss ever!'

You chuckled when you read the writing on it, your fingertips running over the various signatures of your employees. What did they have up their sleeve now?

You opened up the envelope and pulled out the little card inside, reading it quietly.

Hello,

my name is Changbin and I am your strong dolly.

I love going on gym dates and after that eating some good food! I enjoy watching movies so I hope you'll share your favorites with me.

Please be tender with me, even though I seem tough, I need someone to lean on too so don't forget to give me a hug.

Hope you will come to love me as much as I love you.

"What?" you chuckled then saw someone added something on the card.

'We got him delivered to your house, enjoy!'

No way. Did your employees buy you a sex doll?

Your face warmed up instantly. Those bastards, you chuckled to yourself, the nickname more of an endearment than an insult.

Maybe the papers could wait until tomorrow.

-

It was raining hard when you finally parked in front of your building, rushing inside with your bag shielding your head. You almost tripped over your legs, your heels making it hard to run.

The building was completely quiet as you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button 12. You looked down at your watch, it was almost 2am. You shook your head, impatient to see what the gift looked like.

There was a huge box in front of your apartment door and you made your way there quickly.

After unlocking your door, you dragged the box inside, almost falling over a few times. After quickly closing the door and throwing your heels off of your feet, you decided to open the box immediately, no more waiting.

"Oh. Look at that." your heart skipped a beat.

This Changbin doll definitely looked like a man you'd turn your head after if you saw him in the street. At least your employees seemed to know your taste.

At the same time, you were curious, you've never seen a doll that is so humanlike. Gulping, you kneeled down next to the box and reached out to touch his face.

"Tell me your skincare routine." you chuckled, playing with his hair a little.

You noticed a piece of paper stuck between his fingers so you grabbed it gently and looked at it.

My honey!

I chose a comfy outfit for us to enjoy a movie together!

Hope you'll love our first night together as much as I will!

Honey. You blushed profusely at the nickname.

Have I been single for so long that this got me going?, you asked yourself, feeling embarrassed.

Yet, you couldn't even remember the last time someone flirted with you. And if they did, it probably went over your head because you were only thinking about work 24/7. Even now, you had brought the papers home so you can finish everything during the weekend.

Your stomach growled and you stood up, holding the manual for the dolly as you heated up some dinner. You needed to eat healthier food, you knew that. But who has time for cooking when you're working 24/7?

You read the manual carefully, flipping the pages as you ate your dinner; leftovers from yesterday. Not ideal, but you had no other options at this moment. Your face started burning suddenly when you got to the section about what the doll was made for and what it can do.

"Oh my god." you quickly closed the manual with a little giggle. You glanced at the box, deciding to take a shower and get rid of your suit first.

When you were finally refreshed, feeling like a new person, you made your way back to your new doll.

"How do I get you out?" you pursed your lips. Yes, you did some yoga but you had no idea if you could lift up an entire human sized doll.

You pushed the box to your room, putting it next to your bed. With all the strength you could gather you managed to pull Changbin out of the box and place him on top of your covers with your body giving out and plopping down on top of him.

"Oh." you were surprised by the warmth of his body. You didn't really follow the latest technology developments, only using what you needed for work and daily life, but this must be some new and advanced technology you've never come across.

You crawled under the covers, putting them over Changbin too as you grabbed your phone and checked out the site with the dolls. Their primary function was to be used for pleasure but you felt like Changbin could be more than that. Maybe a cuddle buddy? You chuckled and pressed your cheek against his chest as you laid half of your body on top of him. You could feel the muscles underneath the clothes he was dressed in and it made your heart skip a beat.

You continued scrolling through the site, seeing the other doll models, some of them sold out. They were all charming in their own way, but you were sure you'd choose Changbin if you were buying one by yourself.

"Wow, only one of each?"

You scrolled all the way to the end and in the left-hand corner you saw very small letters saying: property of BIMT.

"BIMT?" it sounded so familiar, and you couldn't remember where you had heard that before.

You shrugged, too tired to think or look at your phone anymore so you put it aside and hugged your Changbin dolly, happy to have a warm body to hold during a usually lonely night.

You had never slept this well in your life, so well that you didn't even hear your alarm clock trying to wake you up.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed once your eyes opened and you noticed it was past 10am.

Usually, during the weekend you'd still wake up earlier, around 7am so you could go for a run and do your stretching or yoga session. Plus, the weekend was the only time you could clean up your apartment thoroughly.

What surprised you even more, was that you were turned on for some reason. You must've had some interesting dreams to wake up like this.

Embarrassment seeped into you as you looked at Changbin's face. You scanned around your room as if someone was watching you, which of course no one was. But you felt so awkward using the doll.

You propped yourself on your elbow and hovered over Changbin's face.

"Hello. Good morning." you waved in front of his face but of course he didn't even blink.

"How do I do this?" you chewed on your lip. You observed him for another moment before placing your palm on his chest and tentatively sliding it down. Your hand explored slowly and gently, working yourself up as you touched his defined muscles.

"Huge..." you gasped a little when you gripped at his bicep. Your body was heating up and so was his, the doll was getting excited. You read it in the manual but seeing it happen was something else. Licking your lips, your hand slid down more as you threw your leg over him, your knee brushing against his bulge.

"Oh." your eyes widened and you stopped for a moment to catch your breath, before sliding your hand down to touch him. Your doll was definitely big.

Something inside you snapped and you forgot about being embarrassed quickly as you started moving against his thigh. You whined, finding a good position to where you could straddle his thigh and continued your ministrations. The dolly seemed somehow... happy. Your cheeks warmed up suddenly, it felt like his attention was on you, like his eyes were actually looking at you. Your knee kept brushing against his erection, making him twitch in his pants.

"It's like you're alive." you whispered, mesmerized.

You bit on your lip and decided to rid him of his pants and underwear.

"Oh my." you slapped your hand against your mouth. "Changbin." you giggled after saying his name, it felt good to feel it rolling off of your tongue.

Taken by the moment, you got rid off your clothes and his shirt too, admiring his beautiful body. You wanted to take your time with him and kiss him everywhere, explore him with your hands but that would have to wait for another time when you're not this desperate to get off.

You hovered over him before sitting down, your wet pussy pressed against his hard cock.

"Ah." a little moan escaped your lips as you started grinding on him with slow and languid movements, enjoying the way Changbin's cock kept twitching against you like he wanted in.

Your embarrassment completely disappeared, turning into pure pleasure as your clit kept dragging against him, your pussy clenching to be filled up. You lifted your hips just a little to grab his cock and slowly push it in, even though he was bigger, you took him well like he was made just for you.

You put in the work as you bounced on top of him, your hands roaming on his belly and chest, across his perky nipples as you grabbed at him. He was heating up even more, matching the heat of your body and the hot atmosphere created inside your room. You looked at Changbin's face and gasped, it seemed as if he was smirking ever so slightly. Your pussy clenched at the thought of him being alive and touching you too so you sped up, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

"Binnie." you whimpered and he twitched hard. It was right there in the manual, just keep saying his name.

"Binnie." you said again, your movements becoming sloppier as you got more tired and closer to your high. "Changbin!" you groaned loudly once you exploded, riding your high on top of him as you gyrated your hips. Tears gathered in your eyes from the overstimulation you brought to yourself as you kept repeating his name until he exploded inside you, filling you up with ropes of warm cum.

"Fuck." you cursed, lifting off of him, feeling all sticky and embarrassed again.

"I must be crazy." you shook your head and ran to your bathroom to get cleaned up. Of course, you cleaned your dolly too and then looked at his face more closely, biting on your lip and trying to see if there were any changes in his expression.

"You need a hug, right?" you said before putting your arms around Changbin. It felt so comforting to be wrapped around him.

Your weekend was mostly uneventful as always, but this time you had Changbin watching over you as you cleaned around your apartment. You managed to take him everywhere by putting him on your office chair with wheels.

"You could help, you know?" you grunted before continuing to vacuum the living room.

Changbin's eyes followed you while you cleaned and while you did your yoga. He watched as you sat hunched over your computer in your home office and worked, typing quickly and going over all the papers you brought home. He watched you struggling with the groceries and cursing quietly.

He wished he could help.

~

Monday came around too quickly and you rolled out of bed reluctantly, not wanting to separate from Changbin's warm body.

Spring was around the corner, but it was still cold in the mornings and you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day. But, you had a really important meeting today and you couldn't afford to be late. You were in a frenzy, getting dressed quickly as you had almost overslept through all your alarms.

"You're making it hard for me to leave my bed." you smirked at Changbin, shaking your head slightly as you grabbed your bag.

"I'll see you later, cutie." you kissed his lips and practically skipped all the way to your car.

Was it pathetic that a doll made you feel this happy?, you thought. Maybe it did, but who cares, you weren't harming anyone plus it was a gift and you should be thankful for it.

As soon as you arrived to your office, one of your employees, Tina, smirked at you.

"Good morning, boss! Did you like our gift?" she asked and you blushed profusely immediately.

"I really did. Thank you." you said and she chuckled.

"If we land this deal, you promised to take some time off. I hope you still mean that." she said, walking with you. Everyone knew you barely took time off, they'd have to pry you off of your desk and force you to finally rest.

"When we land this deal. Not if." you smirked at her, saying hello to a few more other employees as you passed them by.

"Good morning!" Maxine greeted you cheerfully. "All the reports for the meeting are ready on your desk and I prepared the presentation room for you."

"Oh, always so fast." you chuckled.

"Just keeping up with you, boss." she winked, following you into the office. You left all your stuff there and quickly looked through the reports, having already studied them, this was going to be a piece of cake for you.

Where you were shy in your personal life, at work you were the complete opposite, your ambition and drive brought you to high places and you had no problem with biting hard and showing off your skills and knowledge.

There were at least twelve people in the room and you took a deep breath in as you stood in front of them. Maxine nodded at you with a thumbs up.

The presentation went smoothly and the partners were satisfied with your results and conclusions, the deal has been made.

"Congratulations, boss! Now you can take your vacation!" Maxine said and you laughed.

"Well, maybe I should stay a little bit more to-"

"No, no. You need some wildness in your life away from all the seriousness, suits and papers, hm?"

"Maxine is right. If anyone deserves this vacay, it's you." Tina agreed and you smiled.

"I hope you two know that I will be checking in all the time." you waved your finger and both of them laughed.

"Of course." Tina nodded and you took her to the office since she'd be taking your place while you're away. The rest of the day passed by fairly quickly, even with you staying longer as always. A zap of electricity ran through your body when you remembered someone was home, waiting for you and your undivided attention.

Changbin.

"Maxine, tell Tina I got all the reports ready for our new partners and if she needs anything she can call me any time. Same goes for you." you rushed out and she looked at you with her brows lifted.

"Of course. Have a good time on your vacay!" she said, chuckling because this was the first time you were leaving before her.

~

It was raining again when you ran into your building, forgetting to bring an umbrella so you used your bag as a shield from the water once more. The first thing you did after shucking your shoes off and throwing your bag aside was run to Changbin.

He was in the same position you left him, leaned on your headboard in your bed, tucked in with a blanket.

"Hey there." you smiled and grabbed his face, kissing his lips. You had missed him all day.

"We are going on a vacation." you nodded to him with a smile. You had to admit, you felt kinda excited to finally be away from work and your repetitive routine. You just wished Changbin would come to life and enjoy the break from every day stress with you.

The next day, everything was prepared, the bag you packed was in the trunk, the tank was filled up and most importantly Changbin was in the passenger seat, strapped in and ready. You were going to drive over to your old house, where your parents used to take you for vacation when you were a kid. It was a bit out of town, a little house close to the lake. It used to be different before, there were more things to do there but you heard that some rich guy bought off most of the people who lived there so he could own the land.

Your little house was away from that area, perfectly in the middle of nowhere. Just what you needed to get your mind off of work. You got into the car and put on your favorite playlist before you started driving.

The tall city buildings soon turned into seemingly never-ending fields. You felt better instantly upon seeing the nature all around you. The sun was beating down on your car and you decided to open up the windows and let the air in as you drove and sang. Your eyes kept flitting towards Changbin, his pretty face and the way the wind kept playing with his hair. He looked so soft and sweet in those moments, making your good mood become even better.

Maybe someone would call you crazy for taking your sex doll to a vacation with you but he was more than that. You had a feeling he would be.

You drove for hours, it was almost dark when you finally parked in front of the old house. It was a little worn out since no one came out here anymore, especially after your father died due to illness and your mother had moved back to her hometown, taking care of your grandma. You visited them whenever you could but you were always swamped with work, you barely had time for yourself.

You put your bag inside first but getting Changbin in was a challenge that you somehow managed to conquer with all the strength you gathered.

"Oh my god." you huffed when you finally placed him on the sofa. "Ugh." you scrunched up your nose, realizing you have to do some cleaning up before anything else.

You got to work, cleaning up the place as you listened to some music and danced around, making the annoying chore more fun. Changbin watched you from the couch, a shadow passing over his eyes before they sparkled just for a moment. Of course, you didn't see it being too into your performance.

After cleaning up and filling up the fridge with some groceries you brought in a portable one, you decided to take a shower and change.

"Binnie, are you hungry?" you asked your sweet dolly and you could swear his eyes moved for a moment.

You tilted your head and stared him for a while, finally deciding you just imagined it.

"I guess you are." you chuckled and moved to the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

It was weird spending the afternoon cooking and sipping on wine, listening to music without a care in the world, knowing you don't have to go into work tomorrow. Or bring work to your house. Which reminded you to call Tina.

"You barely even left and you're worried already?" she chuckled.

"Just making sure everything is okay."

"Of course! I got everything under control." she assured you but you still wanted a recap, the perfectionist inside you craving to know that everything was indeed going well.

"Are you having fun though?" she asked after the report and you looked around the sparkly clean house, your eyes then landing on Changbin.

"Definitely." you said.

"Well, take care boss. We need you refreshed once you come back!"

"Of course. Have a good day, Tina."

"You too!"

You hung up and sat down to eat, looking up at Changbin a few times. After your meal you made your way to the couch, you couldn't wait to cuddle up to him.

"Let's see if there's any signal here." you muttered, turning the tv on. Luckily, the signal was good, even better than it used to be before, surprising you a little. You shrugged it off and put your legs in Changbin's lap, your head on his chest. Your own personal teddy bear.

The heat of his body and the relaxed state you were in slowly brought warmness in your navel, spreading throughout you and dripping on your panties. You bit on your lip and nuzzled into his neck, kissing his skin. Your hands started roaming his chest, the muscles you admired and liked so much. Your lips traveled on his skin and you stripped his shirt so you could continue leaving gentle kisses all over him. You unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down and then sliding them off of him with his underwear.

The sight of Changbin's cock all hard and leaking for you made you salivate, your heart beating hard against your chest. You wanted to taste him, feel the weight of him on your tongue so you kneeled down between his legs, sticking your tongue out and licking a stripe along his length.

"Oh." you were deliciously shocked when you realized he tasted sweet. It spurred you on to continue and you wrapped your lips around him, sucking on his tip and tasting more of his pre-cum. You struggled taking all of him in as you slid down, wrapping your hand around the base.

You knew Changbin probably wouldn't cum this way, since your dolly loved hearing his name moaned out before climaxing so you were doing this more for your own fun and enjoyment, revelling in the way he twitched inside your hot mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down for a while, making yourself gag a few times when you pushed in too far, your panties getting progressively more soaked. You released him with a pop and leaned back to look at him.

"Need you, Binnie." you whimpered before stripping and sitting on his lap. You wished he would reciprocate, you yearned to be touched by him. Closing your eyes, you adjusted and grabbed his length, slowly pushing it in and sitting down on him until he bottomed out inside you.

You wrapped your arms around Changbin so you could be as close to him as you can before you started moving on him slowly, feeling every inch of him filling you up and stretching your pussy perfectly.

"Binnie." you moaned out as you fucked on him slowly, feeling him twitch inside you immediately.

"Whoops." you giggled and sped up, chasing your high that has been building up ever since the moment you tasted him. The tip of Changbin's cock kept brushing against your spot every time you smacked your hips down, making you whimper and clench around him.

"Changbin!" with a loud whimper of his name you came all around him, making him finish inside you as you rode your high and held onto him, your sensitive nipples brushing against him deliciously.

"I'll be right back." you said as you stood up.

You cleaned yourself and your doll before getting dressed. You only had him for a few days but you already felt like you couldn't live without him. He was giving you some sort of comfort that you haven't felt in a long time.

"I wish you could go on a walk with me now." you sighed after calming down a little and drinking some water. It was dark out and you weren't really comfortable with walking around the lake and in the forest completely alone so you decided it would be smarter to do that in the morning.

That night you cuddled up with Changbin again, feeling happy that you brought him with you.

~

Early in the morning, you already had your coffee and quick breakfast before checking in on Tina and Maxine. You couldn't help it even though you knew that all your employees were more than capable, it was you who hired them after all.

"I'll be back soon, Binnie." you kissed your dolly, tucking him in with a blanket and leaving the tv on for him.

You walked the familiar path from your house to the lake, knowing it like the back of your hand. It almost stayed the same as it was, the only difference is that it seemed more quiet, abandoned. A few of the nearby houses were almost completely fallen apart, the wood ruined by the rain and the wind. It made you a little sad to see a place once so lively devoid of everything.

That's when you noticed something peculiar, right as you started on your way towards the forest. It was all too quiet. It seemed like there was no insect, bird or any kind of animal nearby. Usually, there were ducks in the lake, you remembered feeding them with your parents and you also remember running away screaming from all sorts of insects when you were a kid.

"Hm." you mused out loud as you continued walking. It felt a little eerie, the hairs on the back of your neck standing.

Then you heard it, a humming sound. Your brows furrowed as you followed the sound cautiously.

You didn't expect to run into a huge fence built around a building you were sure wasn't there before, because there used to be multiple houses and a children's park there. You squinted your eyes, trying to see if there was someone there but all you saw were windows with bars on them and darkness on the inside.

Then you noticed a familiar logo on the side of the building.

"Where have I seen that?" you wondered out loud.

The humming stopped suddenly, making your eyes ring as you swallowed. Fear clawed up from your stomach to your throat and you turned on your heel, something inside you telling you to run.

You didn't stop running until you got to the house, bursting in loudly, closing and locking the door quickly. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest and your eyes landed on Changbin instantly.

Making your way to him fast, you crumbled into his arms. You tried to even out your breath and calm down, all the while asking yourself who bought all the land, why was there a fence, what was the humming sound, why was that logo familiar to you?

You decided to take a relaxing bath and make some yummy lunch to forget about the weirdness of your morning.

"Oh, Binnie I am so glad you're here. Without you I'd feel so lonely." you told your dolly while you cooked. His eyes moved until they were looking directly at you, his fingers twitching against the couch, but you didn't notice, concentrated on making the food.

You spent the rest of the day inside the house and cuddled up to Changbin again that night.

You slept well until your dreams were invaded by the humming sound from earlier and it seemed as if it was louder, closer, vibrating against your body. You were confused, still on the verge of sleep, eyes still closed as your body shook.

"W-what?" you croaked out, it was as if something was shaking you. Your eyes snapped open and you realized it was Changbin, he was... vibrating?

You reached for the lamp quickly, panic rushing through your veins when suddenly he took a desperate breath in, his head turning towards you.

You shrieked, backing away and falling off the bed.

"W-what the fuck?!" you backed away until you hit the wall.

"W-water. P-please." his voice sounded raspy and you gasped, standing up and staring at him. Was this supposed to happen? There was nothing about the dolls talking and needing water in the manual.

"Please." Changbin looked at you desperately and you nodded, running downstairs before coming back up with a water bottle.

"I'm sorry." he apologized as soon as he chugged the bottle down.

"F-for what?" you asked, standing on a distance.

"Scaring you. This humming noise. It makes me tickle on the inside. It itches, it woke me up." he explained.

"You can hear that?" you asked, coming a little closer to him.

"No, I can feel it." he said. "Don't be scared of me."

"I'm- I'm not, just confused." you let out a chuckle at the absurd situation. "The manual never said anything about you coming to life."

"The manual." Changbin scoffed.

"What?" you asked and he shook his head.

"I wish I could remember who made me and who wrote the manual." he answered as you sat on the bed.

"Do you remember anything?" you asked.

"My friends? They were with me before. I don't know where they are now, all I know is I miss them." he sighed.

"Are these your friends?" you asked as you pulled up the dolly site on your phone.

"Yes! That's them." Changbin leaned in to look at the pictures. "This one." he pointed to a doll named 'Chan'. "He was the first. He took care of us after something happened. I- I can't remember what happened, but I know it was painful."

"Ugh, the humming again!" Changbin jolted, hugging himself.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We can leave right away if it's bothering you this much, don't worry." you placed your hand on his arm, trying to calm him down.

"Really?" he looked at you with sweet pitiful eyes, making your heart melt.

"Of course." you nodded and stood up, grabbing your bag and packing up immediately.

"You took all of this with a very calm attitude." Changbin scratched his head.

"I'm used to crisis, it happens at work." you said, packing up quickly. "I wouldn't be where I am if I let my emotions interfere in situations like this."

"That's what I admire, you're so dedicated to your work." Changbin said, slowly standing up, his legs wobbling a little. You paused your movements and looked up at him.

"You were aware of everything happening since you came to me?" you asked and he nodded sheepishly.

"Oh." you gulped, your face warming up. Now, that was a situation that threw you off just a little.

"I, um, I'm hungry." Changbin said and you chuckled.

"There's food downstairs, you can heat it up and eat all of it while I get everything ready for us to leave."

"Thank you." he smiled.

"No need." you answered, still feeling a little embarrassed about the fact that he was aware of everything you did to him during the last few days.

You managed to grab all your things and pack them up, turning off everything right as Changbin finished eating.

"Let's go." you said and he stopped you before you opened the door.

"Are you sure it's safe to go out? It's the middle of the night." he noted.

"I think we'd be safer in the car than staying in here?" you said and he sighed.

"Okay then, let's leave."

As soon as you walked out, you could hear the humming noise more clearly as if it had gotten louder during the night.

"I can't take it." Changbin started scratching at his body again.

"Get in the car quickly."

Luckily, you had enough gas to last to the first gas station so you buckled up and hit the pedal, getting the hell away from that creepy place.

Changbin felt better the more distance you put between the car and the lake.

A few days later, since you were still on your vacation, you were enjoying getting to know Changbin.

It was as if he was human and lived an entire life, even though he couldn't remember it at all. He could only put together bits and pieces, talking mostly about his friends and some disaster that happened, an awful feeling filling him up as he tried to remember more of it. All he could think of was Chan who tried to protect him and the other dolls. They were all alive then.

"Do you think they came to life too?" you asked that afternoon as the two of you cuddled, some movie playing in the background but you weren't paying attention to it.

"I would hope so. I wish we could find them." he sighed.

"Maybe we can. I could pull some connections."

"Really? You'd do that?" he smiled instantly, sitting up excitedly.

"Of course. Look, you probably heard me..." you grimaced but continued. "When I said I'm happy to have you, I was really lonely before and I was actually hoping you'd come to life."

"Does that mean I'm your boyfriend now?" Changbin giggled and you melted on the spot.

"Yes." you nodded and he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, making you squeal and chuckle.

You were sure he was made just for you.

~

Making your way from a refreshing shower, you didn't expect to be pinned to the wall by Changbin as soon as you walked into your room.

"B-Binnie!" you eyes widened, a zap of electricity running through your body instantly, making you feel aroused in the matter of milliseconds.

"I've wanted to do this from the moment I saw you." he said lowly, making you gulp as you stared into his darkened eyes. He was silently asking for your permission and you nodded ever so slightly, your heartbeart speeding up.

Changbin's lips quirked up in that cute smirk you adored on him, his hands sliding down your arms to the towel wrapped around your body. He undid the knot and let it fall to the floor, his eyes raking all over your exposed body.

You felt like your breath got caught in your throat when Changbin leaned in and pressed his lips on yours. Time stopped for a moment before he brought you back to earth with his hands on your chest, squeezing your breasts as he started moving his lips against yours. You parted your lips to let him in, he was sweet and hot at the same time, making your body yearn for his so you arched into him.

Smirking against your lips, Changbin let his hands travel lower, until they touched your thighs. You shivered as he kept kissing you, his fingertips ghosting on your inner thigh. Your moans were muffled against his lips and he kissed you harder before leaning back, letting his hand rest between your thighs as he touched your pussy.

"So wet for me." he smirked.

"B-Binnie, please." you whimpered.

"Please what, honey?" he kept smirking as you whined.

"I need to feel you." you whispered, your cheeks heating up.

"I need to feel you too." he couldn't really tease you for too long, the more he slid his fingers against your pussy, bringing the wetness up to your clit, the more it made him twitch in his pants.

You were overpowered by want and your hands flew to his shirt. It didn't take long for him to be as naked as you were. He was already hard and dripping, eager to bring you pleasure.

Changbin's arms gripped at the back of your thighs. "Jump." he smirked and you gasped, jumping up while he helped you, wrapping your legs around him. The tip of his cock rubbed against you, making you clench.

"H-here?" you whispered and he smiled.

"Why not?" Changbin whispered back and you held onto him tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck, fingertips grazing at his upper back.

"Okay." you whined as he pressed into you, his tip slipping between your folds.

"Mm, so good." he groaned, pushing in and you welcomed him, shaping around him perfectly as he bottomed out.

"Binnie." you moaned out, your nails digging into his skin.

"D-don't say my name yet." he gripped at your hips and you bit on your lip, trying to hold in your desperation. Changbin slowly started to move, his cock spreading your pussy apart deliciously.

"A-ah!" you whimpered as his tip brushed against your spot with each languid thrust. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss as you held onto him, trying to bring your hips closer to him.

"M-more." you whined.

"More?" he breathed out, his voice shaky. He was holding back.

"Please Binnie, fuck me harder, please!" you begged desperately, your pussy clenching around him and making him inhale sharply.

"As you wish, honey." he smirked a little before all hell broke loose when his hips started snapping into yours with vigor. He knocked the breath out of your lungs as you scratched at his skin, your entire body shaking from the force he fucked you with.

You couldn't help it, you were moaning so loudly, not even caring if your neighbors could hear you as Changbin kept fucking into you hard, the tip of his cock brushing against your spot every time he pushed in deep. You held onto him for dear life, you couldn't even feel your legs in that moment.

His little desperate moans filled up your ears, making you even more wet than before, adding to the high that was building up inside you.

"Are you gonna cum, honey?" he gripped your ass hard as he kept fucking you.

"Y-yes, gonna cum for you, Binnie!" you felt him twitch inside you and that was all you needed before you exploded, squirting on him and making him whine. His name kept spilling from your lips and his hips stuttered as he came, exploding inside you and filling you up.

"Wow." he breathed as he finally released you and you shook, holding onto him. Changbin lifted you up in his strong arms and placed your shivering body on the bed.

"I'll be right back, honey." he said and you nodded, still speechless.

Changbin came back to clean you up, bringing you a bottle of water.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked as you were silent.

"No, no, you were perfect Binnie." you smiled, reaching out to touch his face. "So good, that I'm just ready to sleep now." you added and he chuckled, puffing his chest out with pride.

You rolled your eyes playfully as your head hit the pillow and Changbin tucked you in much like you did to him, before he laid down next to you.

"Hey, y/n?" he whispered after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, Binnie?"

"I love you." he said and your heart skipped a beat. It was unbelieveable how quickly you came to love him too.

"I love you." you whispered back, kissing him before the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Your days with Changbin were passing by like a breeze, and pretty soon you were already back to work. All your employees noted that you're glowing and that you've never looked happier, thinking it was the break that did that when in fact it was love.

Changbin had also managed to pull you out of the house more, the two of you going to the gym and enjoying active dates and you couldn't remember the last time you had so much fun with someone, let alone a boyfriend. It's like he knew exactly what you needed, sometimes even before you knew it.

He loved watching you cook, a lovesick look in his eyes as he propped his face up on his palm and just observed you.

"It'd be nice if you helped." you smirked, breaking him out of his trance.

"Yes, in a moment." he smiled then, grabbing your hand and stopping whatever you were doing as he gently pulled it towards him, pressing his lips on the top of your hand. You chuckled, goosebumps littering your skin as he stood up. Changbin stood behind you, enveloping his arms around you, his hands covering yours.

"This is not helping." you giggled when his breath tickled your neck.

"No?" he smirked, pressing himself into you.

You knew you weren't going to cook that dinner any time soon.

You felt lucky to have him, but there was one problem. You had tried getting some information through your workplace, about all the other dolls but whoever had sent them to the buyers, erased every trace of where the dolls have been sent. You couldn't track any of them and Changbin couldn't remember anything, no matter how hard he tried.

You kept thinking about the lake house, the humming noise and the weird building, the eerie quietness of the entire forest. It made the hair on the back of you neck stand, shivers running down your spine.

You tried researching it on the internet but came up with nothing.

Then one day, there was a call.

"Hello?" you answered with an unsure voice, the unknown number throwing you off. Especially because the call was on your private phone and not many people had that number. If it was business or anything of that sort they'd call you on your work cell.

Changbin looked up from the clothes he was folding and you shrugged.

"Is this miss L/n?" a monotone male voice asked.

"Yes, this is she." you answered.

"I understand you have Changbin dolly."

"Ugh. Yes." you looked at Changbin with a frown, and he came closer to listen.

"Well, we're sorry to inform you but the dolls have all malfunctioned and will need to be taken back. The money will be returned." you wondered how they knew the doll was gifted to you and how they had your number.

"What do you mean by 'malfunctioned'?" you asked suspiciously as Changbin eyed you nervously.

"We cannot discuss such matters unless you are part of the staff." the monotone voice answered.

"The staff?" your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Please, don't defy our command. We will come pick up the doll. Goodbye."

Click.

"Hello?" you stood there confused as Changbin's eyes filled with fear.

"I- I don't wanna go back there!" he panicked suddenly, grabbing at you.

"Hey, it's okay! We will find a way for you to stay. I don't want them to take you away either." you pulled Changbin into a hug and he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you a little.

"I feel this fear inside me, I don't know why. That voice-"

"Do you recognize it?" you asked and Changbin nodded.

"I do. But I can't remember who it is. There is like... different faces in my head all coming up at the same time." he pursed his lips in thought.

"Okay, we could drive up to my mother and grandma tomorrow?" you suggested.

"How are you going to explain me to them?"

"I'll just say you're my boyfriend, none of the doll talk, okay? We met at a gym or something." you said and Changbin chuckled, caressing your face.

"How convenient." he joked.

"Hey, it's believeable!" you defended and he giggled.

"Fine, fine, it is." he agreed as the cogs inside your brain already started turning.

You had to plan out how to avoid work because you haven't told your coworkers anything about the doll they gifted you coming to life.

You just hoped you could get Changbin safely out of here.

Early in the morning you were already packing together with Changbin but a ring on your doorbell stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Who's here at 6:30am?" you frowned, walking towards the door.

After opening it and unlocking the door, Changbin trailing behind you, you gasped in shock. There were six men in suits standing on your doorway.

"We came to collect the doll." one of them said.

"You can't!" you yelled.

"Why?" the man asked.

"He is alive, he has free will and he doesn't want to go with you! Now leave, before I sue your entire company!" you tried threatening them but they just exchanged silent looks.

"Step aside. We are going to collect the doll."

"Over my dead body." you got angry but Changbin quickly interfered.

"Y/n, please be careful." he begged as the men stepped inside and you launched your body aside, grabbing the baseball bat you kept near the door.

Changbin gasped as they grabbed him, no matter how strong he was they somehow seemed stronger. He looked up and saw you swinging the bat at one of them men, his eyes wide.

The bat collided with one of the suited men's face, fear rushing through your veins when a piece of his skin came flying off, revealing wires beneath the facade of a human face.

You shrieked, stepping back and the man looked at you before pulling out a huge syringe and walking towards Changbin.

"Stop it! No!" you screamed but the other men grabbed you, throwing the bat aside and holding you back as you thrashed around, trying to escape their hold.

The syringe was plunged into Changbin's neck and he immediately slumped down. You kept yelling at them but they dragged him away, slamming your own door in your face.

You had no idea what to do in that moment. Your body slid down on the floor as you sobbed. They took away Changbin from you, the man who loves you. Anger bubbled up inside you and then you remembered.

Property of BIMT.

You scrambled to stand up and ran to your laptop, quickly typing it in.

"The logo!" you gasped, remembering the building near the house lake. You knew the exact location they'd take Changbin.

"Bang Institute of Modern Technology? Ugh, as in Helena Bang the famous scientist?" you clicked on the page.

You skimmed through the article, finding out that Helena had died five years ago from a mysterious illness, all her research and work falling into the hands of a rich man whose name was doctor Park.

"I'm coming to get you Binnie, don't you worry."

~

In his room, Felix heard commotion outside of the door. He rushed to it, his palms pressed against the cold metal as he peeped through the slit.

A few of the suited men were carrying Changbin towards another room, opposite of Felix's.

"Changbin! Changbin, can you hear me?!" Felix yelled desperately and one of them turned towards the sound, lifting his fist and pounding loudly against Felix's door, scaring him.

"Be quiet, number six!" the man yelled. Felix backed away with tears gathering in his eyes.

What will they do to them now?

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[baby-yongbok]

Wherever You Are, I’ll Meet You There

Seo Changbin x Autistic!Reader

⤷ Genre - fluff • comfort • emotional support boyfriend behavior

⤷ WC - 1.3k

Changbin notices the little ways you start to unravel - but he never pushes. Instead, he offers presence, warmth, and the kind of comfort that doesn’t demand explanation. It’s a soft day, until it isn’t - and when everything begins to slip, he’s already there, exactly where you need him.

⤷ a/n - the days are hard, yall, so why not throw some fluff in there? this is based off of my experience with autism and not to meant to reflect how every person with ASD may operate. I hope that you enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

It started this morning.

You were humming, a mindless sound that echoed itself over And over again while you and Changbin had your morning refreshments. 

He cocked a brow, glanced up, studying the way you bit at your inner lip and noting it. 

He didn't pry, he didn't push. He only started humming too - low and harmonizing. You didn't notice at first but once you did you smiled, good. A smile is good. 

The rest of the morning was quiet, which sounds unheard of when Changbin is around but he isn't a morning person and neither are you. 

He got ready to head to the company and he noticed it again, humming, echoing, louder. 

He took a few languid steps into the livingroom to see you better and he found you at the mantle, rocking side to side while you read a piece of mail in your hands. 

“Yeobo.” He calls sweetly, coming up behind you while he half focuses on clasping a bracelet. You turn to him, the humming stops but the rocking doesn't. “Have lunch with me today?”

Changbin smiles and you can't resist. He knows you can't, and he's hoping that you don't. 

“Sure, baby, the usual?” You smile back and his gets wider. Good, a smile, it seems genuine. He nods, holding his hand out to invite you into a hug. 

“The usual, yeah. Or whatever you're feeling like today,” you take his hand and he reels you in slowly until your chest meets his. “Anything my girl wants she gets.” 

There's a hum that vibrates from your chest, faint and sweet. Changbin hugs you tight, giving you some deep pressure. You hum again, longer this time. 

“Feels good?” He purrs, soft in your ear. 

“Really good” You murmur, barely hugging him back now, just getting squeezed by him. 

“Where's that pretty head at today?” He pulls back a bit to see your face.

“I'm okay.” Your eyes flutter open, meeting his brown ones. “Tired, I think”

He hums this time, thoughtful. “Take a nap for me then.” He lets you go, releasing the pressure bit by bit. “Sleep for the both of us, okay?”

You smile again, something soft and a bit… distant? Changbin notices, he doesn't push. He only notes it. 

“I don't really have the time, Bin. Today is my only day off until the weekend and I have a lot to do.” He can see it as soon as it happens, the way your eyebrow ticks when he suggests the nap, a change of plans to your perfectly portioned day. 

“We'll nap for lunch then, yeah? Come to the company and we'll kick Chan out of his studio and nap on the couch.” He grins, hoping you'll say yes. 

You grimace playfully at the idea, “That couch has… seen some things” you both laugh and Changbin takes your hand. “True, it has but I think we're good. I'll get us something to eat, you just bring yourself. Yeah?”

You sigh, double and triple checking the plan in your mind before you nod.

“Alright, lunch and a cat nap… I can do that but I am not sleeping over fifteen minutes.”

Changbin wraps a gentle arm around your waist, ushering you back against his chest. “Twenty minutes.” He bargains with a smile. 

“Binnie,” you pout and he copies, poking his bottom lip out playfully. “Twenty minutes at least, baby.”

He peppers kisses over your nose And then your cheeks. “Please?” He kisses the tip of your nose. “Twenty minutes in my arms, twenty minutes of a break. How can you resist the idea?”

You roll your eyes and he smiles, he knows he's got you. “Fine.”

His reaction is cute and overdramatic, it's designed to make you smile and it's successful in its efforts. He pulls away, giving you some space and turns to head back to the bedroom.

“I get to have lunch with my baby!”

Or at least that was the plan. 

When you and Changbin parted ways this morning - him going to the studio and you going to run some errands - you thought that you had a foolproof plan. 

Go to the bank, get your car inspected, have lunch with Changbin,  pick up some groceries, and then go home and clean up before cooking dinner.

It was simple.

It was doable…

Right?

Well, the bank was crowded, busy with only two stalls open and two lines that stretched to the back. And then, to top it off, the guy behind the counter was rude. 

That lovely setback made you late for your inspection. They had already moved on to another customer by the time you arrived and now you're set back a full thirty minutes. 

You knew as soon as they told you the wait time that you couldn't make lunch with Changbin. At least not when you were supposed to. 

And then it happened. 

The guilt, the overwhelm, your schedule was looking less manageable and more like a list of organized triggers for a meltdown. 

Fuck. 

You texted Changbin, explaining it all and he offered to meet you later. He tried to comfort you, to tell you that he'd wait and even do the rest of your schedule with you - but that wasn't the plan. 

You decline, teary eyed in your car while waiting for your turn for inspection. You curse yourself over and over and over again in your head. Your thoughts crash into each other, sharp edges and no breathing room. 

Your day is ruined. You wasted it. How could you do this?

The schedule is abandoned after your car inspection, your morale is shot and you drag your feet to your front door once you finally make it home after half an hour of traffic. 

The lock clicks,

You turn the knob,

“Changbin?” You stand there, confused as you see him in the living room - and then you see the living room. 

The lights are dim, curtains closed, and candles flickering warm light over the mantle. Your diffuser is on, the scent of rose and lily wafts around and you can nearly feel your shoulders relax. 

“You're home, come.” He waves you in and you kick off your shoes, closing the door and tip toeing in. “Before you ask me ‘what is all this’ I want to tell you how amazing you did today.”

Changbin steps closer, not touching you. “I know what your head is probably doing to you right now, so, we have this.” He holds his hands out to his sides, smiling that cute lopsided smile.

“The living room?” He scoffs and you chuckle. Good, a smile.

“It's not just the living room anymore, Jagiya. It's your get away. Your safe space that you can stay in as long as you need to.”

Your heart swells and for a moment the thoughts fade. The nagging in your mind slips to the background and you smile at him.

“You are my safe space, Bin.” You go in for a hug and he wraps his arms around you tight. “Thank you… I think I've been a bit pent up since this morning.”

Changbin hums, kissing the top of your head. “I noticed but I didn't want to pry. I knew you'd come to me if you needed to. And I'll always be there to help ground you.” He squeezes a bit harder and you groan. 

“Too much?” He chuckles and you whine in protest “Mm mm, more.” 

“More?” He laughs, squeezing you harder between his biceps. “Do you want me to split you in two? Are you sure?”

You squeal, enjoying the deep pressure too much to ask him to stop. Changbin just smiles, hugging you as tight as you want for as long as you want. 

He doesn’t let go. And even when he does - you know he never really will.

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[nonranghaes]

"nononono--i'm still sweaty! i'm sweaty! i was at the gym and didn't get to shower!"

changbin ducks underneath you trying to kiss him, as much as he hates doing so, to try and make a beeline to the bathroom. he drops his gym bag in the process and nearly trips over it kicking it against the wall, and it's unfortunately the exact thing you need to latch onto him and press a quick kiss against his cheek.

"i know," you say, wrinkling your nose a bit (he did warn you, after all: he's stinky). "i just..." he feels the way your hands relax at his hips, the way you pull away him after a moment. "i dunno. i missed you today."

it's not much, but it's all he needs to know something is up. he stops, turning to look at you properly as he sees the way your smile doesn't reach your eyes. you usually try to sneak a kiss when he gets home, and sometimes it does turn into this playful game of him trying to set his things down while you tease him... but there's something in the way you flex your fingers a little. the way you hug yourself a second later, a little tighter than normal, and the way your gaze drifts... he frowns. between running errands, visiting people, being at the gym... he hasn't really had a chance to see or talk to you at all today.

so he steps over to you, leaning so that he can kiss your forehead for now. "i'll be quick, so we can cuddle after." he says, hands resting on your biceps. "i missed you, too."

and that's all you needed to hear to put the light back in your eyes as you look at him again, reassured. ah. it's one of those days, isn't it? changbin understands. he'll just have to cuddle with you extra hard after his shower and say all the sappy things he's been holding inside. just to remind you of how much he adores you.

[innies-goth-gf]

How they like to hold your hand

[Skz Headcanons - Hyung Edition]

How the skz boys like to hold your hand

Pairing : Hyung line 🐺🐈‍⬛🐰🥟 x Reader Genre : Fluff 🪽 Synopsis : How the Skz Hyung line would hold your hand Notes : Hey it’s been a while since I updated sorry about that. A while ago I took a break from school which was supposed to be a few months but it’s been extended till next year so I thought I should make the most of this time and get more into writing. Anyways this is my first post like this so I hope you enjoyyy! (No beta we die like Jeongin!) [Master List]

Bangchan :

Chris isn’t one to interlock fingers, he much rather hold your palm against his, feeling how it engulfs your very own

This also makes it easier to kiss the back of your hand, he loves nothing more than doing that

He never fails to kiss it hello or goodbye anytime he picks it up or has to let it go

He’ll basically do it any chance he gets, often when you both stop before crossing the street

He also loves to swing his hand while he’s holding yours, he just can’t be still with you

Chris is one to lead the way while you walk, but especially while you hold hands

He likes being able to lead you anywhere he pleases

When it gets colder he likes to slip your hand with his in his pocket, often switching between both your hands to warm one at a time (even tho you could put your free one in your pocket)

“Chris you know you don’t have to keep switching like this right?” You giggled as you looked up at him. “How else will I be your personal hand warmer then?!” He exclaims right back at you with a big grin on his face.

Lee know :

This man loves to have you as close as possible to him and having a firm grip on your hand

That’s why he lovesss wrapping his arm around yours and interlocking your fingers together

He likes to pull you in randomly whenever he feels like it, grabbing your arm and yanking you next to his side

He’s usually not super into pda but sometimes he just gets the urge to let everyone know what’s his

Quite often he likes to squeeze your hand to get your attention, only to turn away from you and ignore you as you question him

If he’s feeling extra mischievous he likes to bite your hand and keep an iron grip on it as you try to pull away

Other than that he’s really nice with hand holding

He often subconsciously starts to rub his thumb over the back of your hand

“Hey min,” you call to your boyfriend who seemed to be lost in his thoughts, your hands intertwined. He hums in response, his eyes falling on you right after. “Did you know when you stare off like that you start to rub my hand with your thumb? It’s really cute.” You say pointing at his still moving thumb. His eyes follow your finger, now looking down at your interwoven hands. He pauses for a bit before lifting your hand and chomping on it. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Changbin :

Binnie likes to place his hand over yours and curl his fingers into your own as a means to hold on

He likes the way your fingers feel in his hand, it just feels right to him

Definitively keeps a tight grip on your hand, almost as if you’d disappear if he were to let go of it

Sometimes he ends up hurting your hand at times from squeezing too hard

It’s not on purpose though! His subconscious just thinks you’re too cute to let go (forgive him pls he didn’t mean to)

It’s not like you’d complain about him being clingy anyways, though he can be just a bit too much

Sometimes he likes to bring your hand up to his face and press his cheek into it

He says it’s because your hands and warmer and soft so they feel really nice on his face

“Binnie that’s the 10th time you’ve done that now,” a giggle escapes your lips as you coo at your boyfriend. “If you wanted me to pet you, you could’ve asked.” You boyfriend pouts at you “It’s better this way.” He replies as he presses himself further into your hand.

Hyunjin :

He likes to interlock fingers, it makes him feel like your hands are fit together like a puzzle piece

Plus his grip on your hand is pretty loose so the intertwining makes it so your hands don’t separate

Hyunjin is one to appreciate and observe the scenery of the walk

That’s why he likes to let you lead the way while walking together

It lets him observe more without having to watch where he goes (including you, best part of the scenery ofc!)

He’s also a hand swinger, just kinda start randomly without realizing it

Also a hand kisser but definitely not as much as Chris

He always compliments and kisses you right after wards, he feels it’s only right

“Mwah!” Your boyfriend says as he lays a kiss right one the back of your hand. You fluster up, a shyness interlaced with your voice. “Why do you always do that at the most random times?” .“I just get the urge to, it’s hard to resist,” he replies with a grin. “But also you look really cute like that.” Before you get to reply Hyunjin lands a peck on your lips and starts pulling you down the street like nothing ever happened.

[strrykais]

(𐙚) ─── husband texts with changbin

changbin cant seem to let go of your first born finally growing up, now he does everything in his power to get you to agree to a second!

𐀔𓂃 kais note: turn up its a playas birthday!! (me) i actually have a few things to post today so i hope you guys enjoy ! luv u <3

back to library | req: yes / no

© strrykais ⋅

permanent 🏷️ : @hyunestrella @spicy-sawdust @charlieg1rl @gnabnahcbby @totheseok @mystverse @jisungs-iced-americano @kimseungminpabo @bookswillfindyouaway @puppy-minnie @katchowbbie @night-storm7 @auroratiseee @goldenmellow @sellomaybe @skysole @minkieater @my-neurodivergent-world @cowboy-jester

reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks!

[xoxo-lixie]

Tough Guy ᝰ.ᐟ

Paring- Changbin x Reader

Summary- Y/N brags about Changbin on the phone, making him shy. He tries to act tough, snatches the phone, and silences her with a kiss—only for her to tease him even more.

Y/N lay sprawled out on the couch, phone pressed against her ear, a smug smile stretching across her lips. The apartment was peaceful except for the faint clatter coming from the kitchen—where her boyfriend, Changbin, was pretending not to listen.

She knew better.

“So, I’m just saying,” Y/N continued, kicking her legs up onto the armrest, “if there was an award for best boyfriend, Changbin would win. No competition. He’s just that perfect.”

From the kitchen, a utensil clattered onto the counter. Y/N smirked.

Her friend on the other end laughed. “Oh? And what makes him so perfect?”

“Oh, where do I even start?” Y/N drawled dramatically, making sure her voice carried. “First of all, have you seen him? Like, I get to wake up every day and see the most gorgeous man ever. It’s honestly unfair to everyone else.”

A muffled cough came from the kitchen. Changbin had his back turned, but she could see the tips of his ears glowing red.

She grinned. Time to turn it up a notch.

“And don’t even get me started on how strong he is. He picks me up like I weigh nothing.” Y/N sighed dreamily. “He could probably carry me with one arm while rapping flawlessly. Actually, scratch that—he has done that before.”

Changbin finally turned, narrowing his eyes at her. “Y/N.”

She waved him off, still talking into the phone. “Oh, and you should hear how deep his voice gets when he’s serious. Like, wow. It’s honestly illegal how attractive he is.”

Changbin groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but the pink on his cheeks was unmistakable. “Baby…” he muttered.

“Oh, oh! And you should see how soft he is when he thinks no one’s looking,” Y/N continued, biting back a laugh. “He acts all tough, but last night? He cuddled me so tight in his sleep and mumbled, ‘I love you’.”

Changbin’s head snapped up. “Y/N—”

She gasped dramatically. “Oh, no! He’s getting embarrassed!”

“I am not,” he huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m just—you’re lying.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you didn’t say you love me in your sleep?”

Changbin opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw tensed as if he were searching for a counterargument. Finally, he grumbled, “…That’s not the point.”

Y/N beamed in victory. “See? He’s so cute.”

Changbin, unable to take any more of her teasing, strode toward the couch and plucked the phone straight from her hand.

“Hey!” Y/N protested.

Changbin held the phone up to his ear, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. “She has to go. She’s too busy embarrassing me.” Without another word, he hung up and tossed the phone onto the coffee table.

Y/N pouted. “Rude.”

Changbin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You really like talking about me that much?”

She grinned, reaching up to poke his cheek. “I mean, you are my favorite topic.”

He groaned, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you love it,” she teased, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together.

He exhaled slowly, his tough-guy act crumbling under her playful gaze. Then, without another word, he leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

Y/N blinked when he pulled away, slightly breathless. “W-Whoa.”

Changbin smirked, finally regaining the upper hand. “That should keep you quiet for a bit.”

She stared at him for a moment before breaking into a laugh. “Oh, now you wanna act all cool?”

“Always been cool,baby,” he said smugly, though his pink ears betrayed him.

Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled him back down for another kiss. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night, tough guy.”

[gigizzz]

ꪖꪀꪗ᭙ꫝꫀ᥅ꫀ

🅿🅰🅸🆁🅸🅽🅶: hubby!Changbin x fem!Reader

🆆🅰🆁🅽🅸🅽🅶🆂: Nothing, pure fluff and a very clingy Binnie.

🆆🅾🆁🅳🆂: 338

The soft reflection of the sun on the window wakes you, and out of nowhere, you become aware of someone's muscular body beneath you, resting, Changbin.

As you stir softly and try to get up, his arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you down again. Then he gently whispers against your lips, his eyes still closed.

“jagi. where are you going?” The soft whisper makes your heart flutter in the best way possible. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, then his nose, then his eyelid, then his forehead, then….

. . .

“Anywhere, Binnie. I’m not going anywhere. Never” you giggle against his lips, his strong arms wrapped lazily but still firm around your waist, your legs on each side of his hips as your lips continue their attack.

After what felt like hours in bed, snuggling and cuddling you decide to get up and be productive. Even if your own husband is begging you not to.

You slowly get up and stretch, Changbin’s eyes never leaving you as he sits up.

“not fair. you told me you weren't going anywhere” 

you chuckle and stroke his hair before kissing his forehead, Changbin immediately closes his eyes and nuzzles against you like a bunny.

“well…if you don’t want me going anywhere, you can always join me to shower..?” 

bin’s ears perk up at the suggestion and he’s not sleepy anymore, he drank five cups of imaginary coffee…Apparently.

He grabs both yours and his towels as you walk towards the bathroom, he closes the door behind him.

In the bathroom, there, with your back pressed against his bare chest you felt safe, secure..but mostly, loved. Mostly because of the way your man softly worships your body as if you were a goddess, kissing your shoulder and then applying soap there. And the way his skilled hands massage your scalp while washing your hair, you feel the warmth and love that radiate in the bathroom. And guess what, you love it. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

[catiuskaa]

𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

from: love bites burns.

chapters: intro / EP 1 / EP 2 /

short syn. trapped in a devastating fire, you’re rescued by firefighter Seo Changbin, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s something more—either way, neither of you is walking away from this unshaken.

wc. 20.7k (IKR IM SO PROUD OF MESELF)

cw. angst, character self-doubt and insecurities, life-threatening situations, high-tension moments of danger, intense physical strain, medical procedures, emotional vulnerability, minor injuries sustained during the fire, hospital checkup, unresolved issues, fluff, sweet and tender care, silly banter and emotional conversations, and I think that’s all, folks!

[♦️☆🔥☆♦️]

You blink a couple of times, as you stare down at the table in front of you. It was… a weird sentence. One that after hearing it —even if it doesn’t mean to— leaves a soap-like aftertaste in one’s mouth.

“I overstepped, didn’t I?”

Your eyes drift back at your friend’s, and suddenly, it’s as if the noise coming from the room next door pops back into play, the rest of the friend group already back on track. as if someone noticed they pressed pause by accident, and then mindlessly started back up and kept on going.

You’re not sitting in front of the table anymore. You’re in the kitchen, and your friend meets your eyes with what seems to be genuine emotion.

She’s trying to apologize.

Quick things aren’t scarce in life, and one of them has to be how your smile reaches your face before your friend gets to frown worriedly. She does eventually, before you start speaking.

“No, like, I get it.” You sigh gently, turning to face her and comfortably leaning back on the counter behind you, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re all a bit worried for me, it’s fine.” You wait until the nervousness leaves your friend and she lets her shoulders relax. Only then, you continue. “But really, it’s not like that. it’s just…”

“Complicated.”

Your friend repeats the same word you mentioned when the topic first struck. You pay attention to the tone she uses, and you too relax, because she’s taking this seriously.

“Yeah. I… I’m sorry…”

Your hand reaches her shoulder, and that’s as far as the conversation goes.

However, when you get to your car and let your head fall limp against the steering wheel, less than half an hour later, it’s almost as if you don’t believe it yourself. As if complicated was nothing more than a mere excuse.

If someone had told you back when you were in high school that you would end up within the same troubles as a grown up, you would’ve frowned —curse, even—, but it still remains true. Just like stages of some kind of game —a boring one, perhaps, but a game nonetheless. A game that with each world, one encounters the same obstacles.

It’s not like you have anything against anyone in particular. These people you were with were your group of friends— but are they your friends, though.

As if it wasn’t self-deprecating enough, you buckle your seatbelt and leave your friend’s home early, like always. With no one wondering about it. Like always.

Surely, exclusion comes off too strong a word for it. Besides, they probably didn’t know about it —except for today, of course, because someone noticed, and you’re sure the others did too—, but there’s little to no use in lying to yourself, which you have done before.

You lied to yourself when you started feeling insecure because your group of friends started liking and dating and doing all sorts of things— just not with you. You lied to yourself when you noticed that most things within the group you were unaware of. You hadn’t known about the issues prior to a big fallout before high school ended. No, you lied to yourself and shrugged it off, because even with two people less in the group, five people were a number high enough. Good enough. Then, you lied to yourself when you started dating in your first year in college, something that ended just as fast as it had started. Something that didn’t quite feel… right.

But you refuse to lie to yourself now, when all of your friends are starting to get married. It’s ridiculous because you can’t really do anything about it. Marriageable men don’t show up on your doorstep, and even if they did, considering the ten-story apartment you lived in —located on the cheaper side of the city—, they were probably busy being already married to your other neighbours.

You can’t even recall exactly why it was that your friend had made that specific comment. She hadn’t started the conversation, someone else had, going on and on about how her soon-to-be-husband and her were really excited for their wedding, that would happen sometime in june, because —as she repeated on, and on, and on…— the weather in june is not too warm yet and it still feels nice, but she wants a wedding in summer, not in autumn. You couldn’t help but get a bit tired of the topic, while cheers and giggles continued all over the room, as she was met with understanding hums and comments about how they too wanted a wedding in the summer, because they couldn’t be bothered to prepare in case it rained…

And then it hit you. Unrestrained, unprepared, and unwarranted. The tone, teasing, as if it was just some sort of joke. The sentence, weirdly prickly. Like some sort of cactus that stings your tongue as you force yourself to swallow it, feeling it as it passes down your throat.

Your name first, followed by, “Don’t you ever get worried that you’ll be the last one left? Or are you having too much fun being single?”

You scoff as you park, and you jingle your keys in your hand as you walk to your doorstep. Marriage. What was marriage even for? Originally, marriage made sense when the main purpose was the exchange of assets. A wealthy lady meets a wealthy man, they marry, and they stay wealthy. A not-so-wealthy man meets a wealthy lady, they marry, and problem solved.

“Maybe I should marry rich,” you mumble absentmindedly as you go up the floors inside the now-empty elevator, and you shrug when you reach your floor, opening your door.

And as you kick your shoes off by the entrance, leave your keys in the nail that sticks out the wall because of the painting you removed, and discard your clothes to the chair, you can’t help but feel a bit tired.

You can’t really place it. Like some nagging feeling in the back of your head. Not quite fuck-i-forgot-something, but rather one that sinks in your chest.

You close the window before heading to bed, and whatever it is that you last think of before falling asleep, it is not related to marrying rich.

[.]

Fire.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind once you wake up, smoke all over your room, as one does.

Now, we’ll keep the sarcasm because it’s funny, but still, words happen to scatter away at the thought of the fire, because, how to describe a fire except from scary, far too hot, and… scary again? Well, no one can blame you for that, so, this author thinks we should leave it to someone who has a little more experience with the flamy subject.

Changbin wakes up that Tuesday with no thoughts in his head. Maybe it’s because he wakes up really early, but when I say no thoughts, I mean it. Completely blank. Nothing. Zero. Nada. He doesn’t quite remember how he mentioned that to his buddy and coworker either, but he remembers how Chan laughed.

“Blank?” Chan chuckles, opening another medical kit to check if everything was in order or whether he’d need to restock it, as he sips from his too-dark-for-normal-humans coffee.

To which Changbin shrugs, a downturned smile on his face. He doesn’t mind Chan laughing. He likes it, if he is honest. Refilling oxygen tanks alone with his blank, empty mind on a chilly Tuesday at around 5:30 am isn’t exactly how he had expected he’d go about his day. He’d rather listen to kangaroo giggles and smell burnt coffee in the air.

“As white as… I don’t know. Snow?”

“Wow,” Chan does exactly what he’s there for, and he giggles, refilling the Band-Aids in bag number 4. “I can’t believe you’re not some sort of poet. What a simile, dude.”

Had the firetruck been closer, Changbin would’ve dosed that stupid Australian with the hose. He says that out loud, which only makes Chan giggle even more.

“I’ll beat you up with this oxygen tank,” Seo threatens with a cheeky smile.

“What’s that thing Hyune called you back in the bar last night?” Chan asks out loud, but his eyes widen as his smile gets bigger, figuring it out himself, “Ah, yeah! Omega male!” He laughs—no, cackles, his eyes like slits as he throws his head back. “Only omega males do that.”

Maybe Changbin should throw the oxygen tank to his flatmate, Hyunjin.

“I’m so not an omega male,” Changbin starts. “In fact, Hyunjin’s an omega. Because I say so.”

Chan’s laugh ends with that weird sigh that people sometimes do after they laugh. Like a sigh, but with sound, and he scratches his eye, smiling funnily.

And surely you wouldn’t expect a conversation like this between two firemen. The best of the best in the city, as it stands. But hey, omega males can do anything. Even be firemen.

“Shut up,” Changbin side-eyes at Chan, who can’t help but snort. “Let’s change the subject. Was it your turn to make lunch for today, or was it mine?

But as if someone had heard that —won’t say god, because it’d be quite dark to think that god starts all fires, and it’s far too early for that— and decided that talking about lunch wasn’t a good enough change of subject, the alarm shatters the little silence that remains in between different sentences.

Changbin’s body falls right into alert mode with a quick flinch. Not because he’s scared —which does happen, don’t get me wrong—, but because of the sharp, blaring tone that now echoes through the station, followed by the dispatcher’s voice crackling over the intercom:

“Engine 3, Engine 5, Engine 7, Engine 9—Ladder 2, Ladder 5—Battalion 1, Battalion 2—respond to a structure fire at 143 City Street. Ten-story residential building, fire reported on the second floor, spreading upwards. Multiple occupants trapped. Time out: 5:26.”

The shift is instant, almost as fast as how a video moves in two times speed, but even with the urgency, it still comes out routine-like. Everything moves fast: how he closes the oxygen tanks and loads up the trucks —the engines available in the station—, how the whole station chaotically wakes up, sleepiness forgotten.

Chairs are scraped back, half-eaten meals are abandoned. Boots thud against the floor as the firefighters bolt for the gear racks, moving on muscle memory.

Changbin steps into his boots—one, two—yanking the heavy turnout pants up over his waist. His coat followed, the Velcro and buckles snapping shut as his brain caught up to the adrenaline now pounding in his chest. Huh. Maybe a snow-blank brain can actually be helpful for something. The Nomex hood was next—over his head, down his neck.

Someone shouted the address again, and he’s glad he’s not the one who drives today, because he can’t think of the fastest route to get there.

Helmet on. Gloves stuffed into his coat pocket for now. He settles the oxygen tank’s straps over his shoulders, the familiar weight pressing into his back. His hands work fast—clipping his radio to his coat, checking his mask, securing everything.

By the time he climbs into the truck, sirens already wailing, his blank mind starts buzzing alive. Four engines, two ladders, and two battalions? His palm itches, and he’s glad he hasn’t put his gloves on yet, scratching it subconsciously.

Four trucks solely to extinguish the fire —engines manage the hoses and water supply—, and two ladders —self-explanatory enough, thanks— together don’t sound good.

His mind turns from white to smoky grey, as the two trucks from his station leave barely three minutes after the alert.

[.]

Fires in real life look quite similar to those in movies, only this time, the fire is real.

There are no make-up artists waiting at the entrance of some fake building when the firetrucks pull over the closest to what used to be your classic, everyday building in the middle of a busy city. That's a real building— a shell of what it used to be, covered in ash, thick black smoke on top, and fire that roars through some broken windows. Changbin's heart beats to the rhythm of glass windows shattering due to the amount of heat that takes hold of the structure.

Other fire teams are already there, and his team swiftly joins them, as he and Chan rush towards the building, following the rules of their Incident Commander.

"Team 3!" the Commander lets out loudly as soon as they jump out of the fire engine. "You three, with the attack team. You —that’s him and Chan who he points at—, join the search team. Get inside, now!"

Protocol isn't something Changbin needs to revise before an emergency. After all this time, it rushes through his veins like the adrenaline he so desperately needs right now.

Steps one and two are done, because the other engines have already assessed the situation —bad, very bad, terrible in fact, or so it seems to him— and located different sources of water throughout the neighbourhood. And so, step three follows. Search and rescue.

And, vulnerably so, with his mouth dry and his pulse beating in his ears, he enters the inferno of a building in front of him.

There are no colours except the dull yellow of his suit and the darkened tone his helmet glasses settle over his eyes, as the orange tone of fire seeps and destroys everything in its way.

"What were the quick assessment results?" Changbin hears Chan on the helmet's headphones.

"Four victims reported on different floors, seen through the windows." He recognizes the voice of one of the members of Team 6, Yeonjun. "Commander said we should check for victims on the higher floors. The fire spread really fast."

It's tense, it's fast, and it's heavy, everything happening like a buzz behind his eyes as Changbin and the rest of the firefighters sprint up the stairs.

Doors and windows, broken. Changbin doesn't know the name of the person he's searching with, as the teams separate into different pairs to search.

"Floor six is hellfire!" Team 4 member Jeongin lets out, and Changbin sweats as he hears his erratic breathing through the headset in his helmet. "I need backup, stat!"

"There's someone here!" his neck almost hurts when he turns to watch his pair partner exit the apartment's main room with a young man in his arms.

"Unconscious?" Changbin watches the fireman nod, and he nods, too. He lets out a heavy breath as quickly as he moves to activate the microphone on his shoulder. "Is floor five handled?"

"Floor five is clean now!" Team 4 Hongjoong replies in less than a beat. "Me and Taehyun have our hands full!"

Changbin's eyes roam over his partner's suit until he finds his name tag. "Jongho will join you downstairs. Join the attack team after leaving the victims outside. Jeongin, status?"

His last question is said as he rushes upstairs. He crosses the ventilation team, breaking windows. Everything that happens around him feels nothing more than madness, as he feels the fresh air on the back of his neck.

Whatever he thought floor six could be, he underestimated it. Smoke—thick, dark, and suffocating—billows out, rolling down the side of the building like a heavy fog, threatening to climb even higher. Still, inside, the air is unbearable. The heat doesn’t just sting—it crushes. It moves like a living thing, clawing at oxygen, making it harder and harder to breathe were it not for their oxygen tanks. The ceiling groans under the strain of the fire eating through wooden beams and drywall. The wallpaper has curled back into ash.

The floor is a danger zone. Flames creep along corridors, swallowing door frames. Sprinklers either don’t work or sputter uselessly, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the blaze. Every time a door is forced open, the sudden rush of air feeds the fire, making it roar louder, hotter.

It’s a nightmare. The heat distorts his vision even through his face mask, and the smoke reduces visibility to almost nothing. His radio crackles with reports of the attack team several floors down, about how the fire is spreading—crawling into the walls, threatening the floors above. It’s a race against time—if the fire breaches the stairwell or weakens the floor too much, the structure might give. And we all know what that could mean.

More members dash in, but they all halt by Seo’s side. 

"Jeongin, status?" he asks again.

He hears the sound the suit makes when one of the members by his side moves and calls for what he hasn’t done yet—or maybe he doesn’t quite dare—as the fire burns and creates havoc in front of his eyes, and dares to trespass and ruin his insides too. He hears what he hasn’t done yet, and someone calls for the rapid intervention team. A team whose sole mission is to rescue firefighters in trouble.

"RIT team, stand by —firefighter unaccounted for."

“RIT team ready, waiting for further instructions.” 

Speedy as always.

Seo’s heart stops in his chest, and Chan joins him, patting his shoulder. "Bin, we should let the RIT get in with the attack te-"

"I'm okay!" Jeongin unknowingly interrupts Chan, coughing out panted words through the mic. "Floor six is a fucking nightmare, but it’s clear!"

And Changbin's ears stop making his world spin. He takes a big breath, thanking science for his oxygen mask as Jeongin comes out of the fire and another fireman —Chan, maybe, from what Changbin’s lost, weary eyes could decipher— hugs him tightly.

Downstairs, downstairs, downstairs. His breathing is all over the place, the weight of his gear pressing down on his shoulders, the oppressive heat seeping through his suit like a second skin, and he’s grateful for all the times he’s done cardio this full month, thankful he does exercise on a regular basis, and he thanks deities he doesn’t believe in that he doesn’t fall down the stairs. The five people he is with all need to get the fuck out and join the attack team or ventilation team, depending on the Commander’s orders.

Until, as if someone had summoned him, his voice roars in his helmet. 

“Search team, report status.”

Chan’s hand is faster than his in getting to his microphone and replying. “We’re heading down, sir.”

“Sir, we have an issue.” 

Changbin frowns. He doesn’t recognize that deep, low voice, and he’s been working with the same people for years. He may be bad with names, but not with voices. And it seems his ears stand corrected, for he hears distinctly the Commander’s voice again. 

“Who else is using this line?”

“Sir, it’s a man from the medical unit.” He recognizes Wooyoung’s voice, member of Team 4 and one of his old training partners. 

That isn’t good. This is out of the usual protocol.

“What the fuck is he doing in my voice channel?”

There’s a slight gasp of hesitation as the low, unknown voice speaks again. 

“I’m using the microphone on this man’s jacket because I have a hyperventilating patient who claims that there’s someone still in the building.”

And that is the moment Changbin’s heart sinks. There is no rain outside —that would have been too good for how the situation is now— but he feels as if a storm is settled right over them. Not with the clarity and hope it would usually mean for a fireman, but with the dread that a bolt of lightning has struck, and another fire is on its way.

“What?” He doesn’t know which of the firemen he’s with said that, but they all stop in their tracks, slowing down in the hall on the third floor.

“What?” The Commander repeats the question, unaware he has done so. “Search team, the floors were all clear, yes?”

“Affirmative, Commander,” Yeonjun replies, uneasy as he stands next to Seo. “Firefighter Yang Jeongin was the last one to need to check floor six.” 

Changbin’s arms rest impatiently on his sides, the heat radiating through his suit, sweat pooling at the small of his back despite the heavy protective layers, as the situation unfolds. He grows restless as the wood in the building creaks, burns, and churns, his body sweaty and his suit covered in deep, dark ash. He looks at Chan, only to find his own reflection in the fireman’s glasses.

“Who does she say is missing?”

“A young woman in her late twenties. Lives on the seventh floor.” He hears the low voice groan softly in what seems like tense annoyance. “The patient is refusing care until that woman is taken care of.”

It’s then and there when Changbin’s soul threatens to leave his body. It’s… It’s practically a death sentence. If the sixth floor was that bad, the seventh floor…

“Commander, there’s… there’s no way that woman is still alive.”

Changbin can almost hear the gears on the Commander's head tick and clack as the man thinks, and as silence claims the chat for itself. Like glissandos in a violin piece, it all falls in one solid, stoic slide of a hand. 

“Changbin.” 

Seo hasn’t even realized his body has moved toward the stairs again, the heat gingerly intensifying with each step closer, a blistering yet somehow teasing reminder of what awaits him above. As if the fire is tempting him to go upstairs. Threatening him with the life of a woman he does not know. 

His feet stand before the first step. “Chan, I-”

“No.” Ye-ouch. “We all need to leave.” He states lowly. Clearly, too, if it weren't for the slight tremor in his low voice. “Now.”

“Commander.” Seo turns his head to his microphone. “It’s Seo Changbin. Permission to head upstairs.”

Changbin can’t see how Chris’ piercing stare threatens to kill him before he heads up, and he, on his own, risks killing himself.

The Commander, however, doesn’t hesitate to tell him. 

“Permission?” The Commander’s voice crackles through the line with incredulity, a rare pause stretching too long. There’s a beat of silence—just long enough for the weight of the question to settle. It almost weakens him. Almost. “You want permission to barbecue yourself, Changbin?”

He doesn’t turn around, but Jeongin does, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing the shorter man to look at him, Jeongin’s visor off, allowing Changbin to see the buzzing tension behind the young man’s eyes, right under his deep frown. Seo doesn’t allow himself to accept and truly feel how the fireman’s grasp makes burning shivers travel through his whole body. He’s a proud coward, because accepting how scared he is nearly threatens to make him sob.

“What are you-?” A question that Jeongin fails to end, his voice shattering just as Changbin reaches for his microphone again. 

“Commander.”

It isn’t a question. Maybe it’s because he truly doesn’t want to ask again, in fear of feeling glad to be rejected. 

“Goddamnit.” Someone murmurs, as the six of them all pace around in the third floor’s hall. 

“You can’t be serious, Bin.” Chan’s voice is low. “That floor is suicide. The woman could already be dead.”

“And if she isn’t?” Changbin states in a fierce, stoic tone, determination being one of the sole things that makes him able to hold himself straight. “Commander, orders.” 

“I can’t fucking think.” 

The Commander lets out a sharp sigh. His hesitation only adds to the gravity of what Seo is truly asking, as the six firemen stand motionless while the building gives in to the roars of fire. Until, finally, he lets out the six words that could have damned his sleep for long. 

“Officially, you have my absolute denial.” 

And it could have ended there, with a quick snap of the commander's sharp-edged tongue. Until he sighs, and quieter, almost like he’s spitting out the words, he mutters. 

“But damn me if I know you’re gonna do it anyway, so make it worth the fucking risk. Understood, firefighter Seo?”

“Bin.” Chris’ hand is faster than Changbin’s affirmative response to the Commander. “If you so much as hesitate, you turn the hell back.”

The words slam into him harder than the heat pressing against his suit. For a brief, flickering moment, something cold trickles down his spine—not from the sweat pooling at the base of his neck but from the weight of what Chris is saying. Hesitate. Like the word itself could tether him to the ground, hold him back from running headfirst into flames. He clenches his jaw. 

There’s no room for hesitation. There can’t be.

Hesitation is not and will never be part of protocol.

“Chan-”

“It’s an order as your team’s captain.”

Both of their faces turn solemn. The air between them feels heavier than the smoke outside.

“Yes, captain.”

At 5:44, the firemen and engines arrived. 

At 5:54, the search and rescue team were in the third floor’s hall, already exiting the building to let the attack unit manage. 

It’s at 5:56 that firefighter Seo Changbin runs straight toward what could be his final rescue. 

[.]

His body moves on instinct, muscle memory propelling him forward even as the heat gnaws at his suit. The building groans, an eerie symphony of burning wood and collapsing metal, and Changbin doesn’t think—he can’t think—because if he does, he might stop. He might hesitate. And there’s no room for that now.

He keeps going up the stairs. Up, up, up. If he stops before the seventh floor, he fears his legs might give out. And his knees do buckle once he realizes the state in which the stairs are now.

The heat meets him like a wall as he keeps on going up the stairwell, each breath through his oxygen mask feeling thinner, shallower, like the air itself is fighting back. The roar of the flames above isn’t just a sound—it’s a presence, a living thing that crackles and howls, angry and impatient. Every step is a countdown, every second a reminder that he’s racing not just against the fire, but against death itself.

His weight threatens to damage the stairs further. The crackle of flames overpowers the chatter and loudness that takes hold of the voice chat the attack team uses, coordinating with the ventilation unit to attempt to control the fire in the floors below him. 

He coughs, not because of the smoke, but because his breathing is erratic now, and he has to find a way to calm it before his oxygen tank betrays him and leaves him stranded. 

Changbin jumps and keeps running. He does not care if the stairs have just fallen beneath his feet. He does not care if he has to duck and roll before the ceiling crushes him. He keeps running until he finally reaches the seventh floor. 

It’s then and there that the view before him threatens to change his beliefs. He wouldn’t describe himself as a religious man, but as the scene unveils right before his very own eyes—a place of “black darkness” where “weeping and gnashing of teeth” is all that will be heard, and what awaits before him can only seem “a lake that burns with fire and sulfur,” Changbin isn’t sure if it had been God or himself that had damned him, but as he curses and rushes in, he swears the feeling may compare with that of entering the thresholds of Hell.

The apartment on the seventh floor is a blur of grey. Smoke bleeds from door frames, and the air is so hot it feels solid—like breathing through wet fabric. Seo keeps his right hand against the wall, moving fast but steady.

“Fire department!” he shouts through his mask. “Call out if you can hear me!”

But he himself can’t hear anything. There’s a loud beeping noise in his ears that buzzes with his every move, fueled by the adrenaline that keeps him moving. He swears, biting his lip. He needs to stop thinking he’s going to die buried by scraps of burnt wood. 

“Firefighter Seo, the structure is weakening faster that we can control it.” His dizzy mind can’t tell if that’s the Commander speaking or someone else. “Get the hell out!”

He looks back. As if to punish him, the door he has just broken down falls and collapses into the flames nearby. He ignores protocol and trusts his gut. He faces forward again. The conditions are the same, if not worse. The stairs could fall. The ceiling could cave. He doesn’t stop.

“Fire department! Call out if you can hear me!”

He doesn’t know why he’s not walking towards the exit, but his legs move him against the only safe wall he can find, and he gasps as he leans against it for a millisecond. 

It’s as if then, the beeping noise in his ears goes away. He can faintly hear the Commander swearing, but he lowers the volume of his headphones, the flames sounding even more, until he hears it again.

A faint cough. Then another.

He pushes forward, boots heavy against the heat-buckled floor.

“Fire department!” He screams, louder than what his throat can manage before feeling sore. 

He moves around, trying to find a way toward that room in the apartment, to no avail. The floor had collapsed close to the door, close to the sole entrance. 

“Firefighter Seo. Commander, I’ve found her.”

“Jesus Christ on a motorcycle, Changbin, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

He doesn’t know how, but Seo finds the energy to chuckle.

“Window on the east side, facing the street,” he pants into the mic, his head popping out the window and looking below. “I’m going to need a ladder rescue.”

“Mate, I can’t get you a ladder to the seventh floor,” Chan answers speedily. 

“Get one.”

His tone is matter-of-fact, and Changbin doesn’t care if there are no engines with tall enough ladders, nor does he hear Chan anymore as he breathes in slowly before breaking the window and turning toward the coughs he had heard. 

You know that feeling you get sometimes when you’re standing on a high place? Sudden urge to jump? Changbin swallows as he steps on the broken windowsill.

He doesn’t have it.

His body screams at him—not to move, not to step, not to breathe. Every instinct drilled into him from years of training begs him to stay put, to retreat, to survive. The human part of him, the part that understands fire as a predator and not an opponent, wants to back away.

But the part of him that’s a firefighter—the part that moves without permission, without fear—pushes forward.

He doesn’t have the urge to jump. He has the urge to save.

Changbin grips the jagged edge of the broken windowsill, the glass biting through his gloves, but he doesn’t flinch. His pulse is a relentless drumbeat in his ears, louder than the fire raging behind him. The other window —the one leading to the room where the woman is trapped— feels both impossibly far and dangerously close, a cruel tease of safety.

He knows the floor won’t hold for long. His body screams at him to back away, to anchor himself somewhere solid, but there’s no time to think—only move.

Without a second thought, he plants one foot on the frame, his heel slipping slightly against the blackened wood. The drop yawns beneath him like an open jaw, but his focus tunnels to the window ahead. His legs coil, muscles burning, and then—

He jumps.

The air feels thick and unforgiving, a second too long stretching between him and the next ledge. His fingers slam against the other windowsill. The impact rattles his bones, but he grips tight, white-knuckled, and hauls himself up. His knee scrapes against the frame, the fire’s glow licking at his back, and all at once, he’s there.

He’s on the windowsill.

“Firefighter Seo, just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

He doesn’t answer just yet, because he isn’t dull enough to let his hands off the top part of the window. No, instead, he breathes in, breathes out, grabs the brick-like edge over his head, and pushes himself forward, breaking the window with hard kicks.

He’s in.

His head snaps toward the sound, and he sees it. A shape, moving shakily behind a thin curtain of smoke. 

Finally.

You’re huddling by the door, one hand pressing against it as if trying to push the air outside closer. Your other arm clutches your chest—struggling to breathe, coughing so hard it doubles you over.

“W-what?” you mumble weakly, drowsily turning to the big silhouette that stands over you. “How did you-”

“My name is Changbin, I’m with the fire department,” he says, his voice soft as he kneels beside you, moving you from the smoke that creeps from under the door. “I’m gonna get you out.”

But you don’t move. You don’t think you can, even if your arm attempts to reach for him. Your wild, tear-streaked eyes aren’t focused on his uniform or his words—they dart past him, back to the now broken window.

“No—no, it’s too hot—” you gasp, voice breaking. “I can’t—We can’t go out there—and I certainly can’t jump out the—the window—”

He slowly passes his arm behind your back, careful not to spook you. “Listen to me," his voice is low, a honey-like kind of soft that threatens to lull close your tired, weary eyes. "We can’t stay here. We need to move—now.”

You shake your head, panic pinning you to the spot. “I can’t—I can’t breathe—I—”

Changbin’s heart slams. If you froze up, if you refused to move—this can turn deadly very fast. Too fast, if what he wants is to get out and brag about his jump to Chan.

He crouches a little further, keeping his voice calm even though the fire is growling below them.

“I know it’s hard—" his hand reaches for his mask, unclipping a spare oxygen mask from his gear—"but you need to trust me, okay, gorgeous? Put this on.”

Your hands tremble so badly you can’t grab the mask, so he does it for you—gently but quickly pulling the straps over your head.

You suck in a sharp, filtered breath—and something cracks outside. The broken window? No—a floor beam, groaning under the weight of the fire.

The sound is like a gunshot, and Changbin’s spine stiffens as you flinch, stumbling forward—and clinging to him.

Your fingers fist the front of his turnout coat—clutching so tightly it almost knocks him off balance, and your hands don’t stop yet, surrounding his neck and hugging him tightly as you sob.

The weight of you against him—the human desperation in your grip—hits him like a blow to the chest. But there’s no time to feel it.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not without you.” Changbin’s voice is steady, but his mind is already calculating: the stairs might be gone. The fire is moving fast. He can feel the heat pushing up from below—this floor isn’t safe.

While his left hand keeps you steady, the other grabs his radio.

“Commander, we need a ladder rescue, stat.”

The windows. That’s your only shot now.

Your breathing is still ragged even through the mask, and you are still clinging to him like a lifeline—but he would be out of his mind to think about pushing you away. Not after what he’s gone through to get to you. 

He’s not letting you go.

“We’re getting out of here,” Changbin smiles, his hand firm on your shoulder. “Hold onto me, okay?” He takes one of his gloves off, his palm sweaty and his touch cold in contrast to your face, red from crying and dirty with soot. 

Seo coos at you as he wipes off soot and tears from your cheek. “Can you stand up?”

He watches you hold back tears and softly shake your head. “I… I tripped when I woke up… I don’t know if I can—”

Licking his lips, he doesn’t wait for you to finish your response. “Hold onto my neck, gorgeous,” he says, letting out a soft sigh before carrying you in his arms. His muscles scream—not from your weight, but from the gear, the heat, and the unrelenting pressure burning through his nerves like a second fire.

Moving now the both of you, Changbin looks out the window—no ladder in sight. He clicks his mic. “Commander, I really need a ladder at the fifth or sixth floor—somewhere I can actually reach.”

A crackle, then the Commander’s gruff voice. “We’re working on it. How about you get your asses somewhere safer, huh?”

His mind works quickly, scanning for another path—an adjoining room, a hallway that hasn’t collapsed. Anything to get you closer to a floor the ladder can reach.

And all the while, the fire creeps closer, threatening the four walls and door that protect you two.

The heat gnaws at his back, at his neck, at the seams of his suit. His ears ring—not from the fire, but from the thundering beat of his own heart. There’s a fine line between panic and focus, and Changbin knows if he slips into the wrong side of that line, you’re both done for. 

There’s so much he can risk, and he will not risk your life. Not when it’s in his hands. Quite literally, in fact.

A broken window too far to reach is the shittiest escape he can fathom, so he forces himself to think. Think, Changbin, think. He moves and, with his free hand, punches the wall in front of him, and he lets out a grin. It’s drywall—a thin drywall, already blistered from the heat. His jaw tightens, but he can’t help but let out a chortle. 

He can break it. Sure, he can. 

He must.

“Hold on tight,” he mutters, although unsure if it's more to himself or you. Shifting your weight carefully, he presses your face into his shoulder to shield you from the smoke, dust, and scraps of drywall that will come out, then grabs the halligan bar strapped to his side.

With a sharp, determined breath, he swings.

The drywall cracks, a jagged hole splitting through the center. Another hit, and the gap widens. He’s not thinking—just moving, muscle memory guiding every strike. His shoulder slams into the weakened wall, breaking through in a cloud of dust and soot.

“Almost there,” he breathes, feeling your arms clawing at him in weakened strength.

He kicks pieces of drywall, and he sighs, stroking your head with his ungloved hand as he passes to the now-open room. “It’s okay, gorgeous. I need you to breathe slowly for me, okay?” He looks at your face, and although your eyes are red and teary from the smoke and from crying, you press your lips together in a thin line, trying to control your breathing. The sight shoots hope straight to his heart. “You’re doing great.” 

The next room is just as bad—scorched walls, a half-collapsed ceiling—but through the haze, he spots it: the emergency stairwell, right through the window, barely hanging onto its hinges. Fucked up is certainly a way to describe the full view. The stairs are damaged, warped by heat, parts of the railing missing. It’s a death trap—but it’s your only shot.

“Commander,” Changbin says into his mic, voice steady despite the chaos, “we’re heading for the emergency stairs, north side. Let me know when that ladder’s ready.”

“Changbin—” It’s the Commander’s voice, sharp and urgent. “Ladder’s set at the fifth floor. You need to move.” He’s pretty sure the Commander sighs. “You’re out of your goddamn mind, Changbin.”

“Copy that.”

He tightens his grip on you. “We’re gonna take it slow, alright?” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I need you to hold onto me like your life depends on it.”

Because it does. But he’d rather not say that out loud, judging by how your eyes —wide, tense, scared— water once more. Now, taking that you’re alive, breathing next to his chest, he’d take crying over dying any day, but his mom taught him better than to make pretty girls cry.

He sits on the windowsill and rests his boots on the metal surface. It creaks below him, and you shriek, tightening your grip on him. He shushes you quickly, while he steps onto the narrow platform, his boots skimming over the metal that shudders beneath his weight. It creaks again, an awful, high-pitched sound—like the building itself is warning him. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he smiles. “At the count of three, we’re heading downstairs, okay?” He states toward you tenderly, smiling widely when he watches you nod. 

He notices you shivering, and he nibbles on his lower lip. And while a reasonable part of his head screams curses at him with a voice that resembles that of the Commander —or maybe Chans’?— he lets the other part of him win —not sure which, if his heart or his brain, but still.

“Hang on.”

He shifts his grip on you, careful not to unsteady you both as he sits on the windowsill and he sits you on his lap, unzipping his jacket with one hand. It’s a clumsy, rushed motion, but he still manages to slip it off and drape it over your shoulders. He grins sheepishly. His heart also grins, proudly so when you, too, grin as he helps you pull your arms through the sleeves, and you chuckle, tugging the zipper up as high as it’ll go.

“Better?” he grins, heart thumping louder than the creaking metal beneath his feet.

You blink at him—then smile. Small, gingerly weak, but real. 

And that’s enough for him.

He stretches his shoulders and holds you again, his arms traveling behind your nape and your knees. The moment his boots shift further onto the emergency stairs, the metal groans again—louder this time. A sickening crack splits the air, echoing up the side of the building. The platform dips an inch.

You gasp, clinging tighter to Changbin’s neck, your breathing sharp and panicked against his shoulder.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs, though his own heart is hammering against his ribs. He just hopes you can’t hear it. He doesn’t want to make you nervous —not more than you are. “We’re okay. I’ve got you.”

But the stairs don’t feel okay. They feel like they’re hanging on by a thread. Seo knows they are.

He grips you tighter, arms firmer beneath your knees and your nape, and locks his gaze through the bars, on the surface below—the fifth floor, a safer floor, where the engine ladder will meet them. He sees the engine moving, the ladder turning towards them, just a few meters lower.

“See that, gorgeous?” He says with as much cheer as he can muster up. “We’re getting out. Just a bit more.”

Every step is a gamble, the heat from the floors below curling upward like a living thing, licking at the metal. Changbin moves slowly—one boot, then the next—testing the strength of the platform with every shift of his weight.

Another screech. Another shudder beneath his feet.

“Firefighter Seo,” the Commander calls through the headset. “Fuck that. Changbin, don’t run—” the Commander’s voice crackles in his ear.

He sighs, pondering, but his mind is back to its snow-white state. He’s aware he can’t move carefully—there’s no time for careful. 

“Okay.” He’s running out of words, and the building is running out of time. “Okay. One… Two…”

He has to make this quickly. 

“...three.”

And Changbin, taking a leap of faith, runs.

There’s a garbled response that comes from his headset right after he starts moving—static, probably a curse—but Changbin isn’t listening, not when the sounds next to him—the stairs and the loud scream you let out—overpower the Commander’s voice. He can’t care. Secretly, he doesn’t. His focus is on the next landing. The fifth floor. The place where the ladder settles is close now—so close—but the stairs beneath him tremble like a dying animal.

Each rushed step sends a pulse of movement through the brittle structure, the stairs groaning under the strain, but they stay intact—just enough to keep going. His breaths are sharp, controlled. His legs move on instinct. The world shrinks to the next step, the next landing—his grip on you and the echo of the Commander’s voice crackling in his ear. 

He’s on the fifth floor in the blink of an eye. A firefighter waits at the top rung of the ladder, hands outstretched. “Changbin!” That voice. 

It’s Chan. Chan is here. Oh, thank God.

The stairs keep letting out sickening screeches behind him. Changbin doesn’t think. Doesn’t hesitate.

“Hold tight,” he breathes, and then—he steps onto the ladder.

It wobbles beneath their combined weight, but Chris grabs Changbin’s arm, steadying him as he transfers you carefully into the other man’s waiting hands.

“Got it!” Chan shouts, his grip firm as he pulls you in.

And then—for the first time since entering the building’s seventh floor—Changbin stops.

He leans heavily on the fence-like structure at the top of the ladder, his mask slipping off with a rough tug. His chest heaves, each breath jagged as if the air itself is too thick to fully inhale. It’s not just the smoke or the heat—it’s the adrenaline, the sudden crash of it, roaring through him like a second fire. His muscles, once taut with instinct and urgency, now feel like they’ve turned to water. His fingers twitch against the ladder’s metal frame, and for a brief, dizzying second, his mind struggles to catch up with his body.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

And then he exhales—long, shaky, almost like he’s forcing the flames inside him to burn out.

His head turns, and he sees Chan setting you onto the ladder’s surface. 

Chan’s okay. He’s okay.

He sees you nod to Chan, but he ignores what you two are talking about, watching you as you zip up his jacket on further and you stuff your hands into its pockets.

You’re okay. 

[.]

He knows he physically couldn’t, but had he had the ability, Changbin is pretty sure his ears would have perked up at the pained gasp you let out when you try to walk off the engine’s ladder by yourself. 

Chan is already gone, because the job isn’t done yet and he’s needed elsewhere as team 3’s captain, so Changbin approaches you, his hand stopping you from moving any further as he gently settles it on your shoulder.

“Wait, I’ll get down first and help you,” he solves with a charming smile, and easily hops off the engine, his calves screaming at him for such nonsense considering what he has already put each and every of his muscles through in the past hour or so. 

He turns and looks up to face you, and in the quietness of his mind —ignoring the screams and barks from the Commander on his helmet’s headset— he giggles a bit when he sees how you look. He didn’t call you gorgeous out of the blue —for the lack of a name, sure, but it still matches the subject at hand. You do look pretty. Pretty covered in soot, and pretty tiny as you wear his gigantic turnout coat. 

Pretty, nonetheless.

In your eyes there’s still leftover fear and tension, but you let his warm ones help as his now ungloved hands hold you by your waist to get you off the engine. 

Still, Changbin doesn’t put you down. Instead, he maneuvers you without letting your feet touch the ground, holding you with his arms behind your nape and knees again as he takes you to the closest ambulance. 

“Is that her?” 

Changbin recognizes the low voice from minutes ago —even if it feels like ages— that had used Wooyoung’s microphone to warn them of your absence. He turns, and he’s met with a blond guy with freckles. His brain tells him that his low voice doesn’t match his face, but he shrugs off the thought.

“Yeah.” Changbin lets out as he puts you down, and you sit on the edge of the ambulance. Two paramedics rush closer, hand him his jacket back as they cover you with a blanket, and he just… stays there. He knows what he should do, so he isn’t really aware if he’s waiting for something to happen. 

He should go back to his team. Join whatever unit the Commander tells him after what most likely will be a heated, well-deserved worded beat-up. He kind of kicked protocol in the shin, so he gets it. 

Nevertheless, he doesn’t move. His eyes stay glued to you as the low-voice blond approaches you. 

“Hi, my name is Felix,” the blond smiles, but you don’t, coughing instead. You would smile, but you don’t have it in you just yet.

Changbin sighs as he watches the blond start protocol. He should follow it too, so he lets out a low sigh and moves to leave the ambulance as paramedics start hovering over you, voices sharp but steady, oxygen mask back and snug against your face. A blood pressure cuff wraps around your arm, the beeping of the heart monitor a steady pulse in the chaos. And he just stands outside the open doors, his boots still covered in soot, his turnout coat hanging from his arm after a paramedic returns it to him. Like his body is here, but his mind is still back in that burning building. 

His chest heaves with every breath, but now it’s not just from the smoke. It’s from the way you're looking at him.

Dazed. Scared. Still clinging to him in ways he didn’t expect nor fully understand. 

“We’re taking her to the hospital,” one of the paramedics says, voice firm but not unkind. “She inhaled a lot of smoke.”

Changbin nods, even if he isn’t sure if the paramedic is talking to him or to his team. 

He should step back. Let them do their job, at least. 

He’s done this before. This is the part where he leaves.

But then—

“Wait—”

Your voice is hoarse, barely a whisper behind the oxygen mask, but it’s enough. Your hand, still trembling, shoots out and catches his wrist.

“Don’t go,” you rasp, your fingers curling around the grimy fabric of his coat. “Please, just— stay?”

It’s a small, broken plea, but it slices through him sharper than any scream or flame he has ever encountered during his career.

He blinks, his throat working around words he can’t quite form. The paramedics exchange a glance, but neither of them tells him to move away. 

“Hey,” Changbin says softly, his free hand resting over yours, swallowing the tremor in your fingers. “You’re safe now. These guys are solid, trust,” he attempts to joke.

Your grip doesn’t loosen.

For a second, just a second, the world goes quiet. No sirens. No smoke. Just the weight of your hand on his, your trembling gaze holding his. And though he knows he can’t stay, a part of him —the part that still feels the heat on his back and the way your heartbeat pounded against his chest— doesn't want to leave either.

And that’s… new.

“Alright, alright,” he breathes, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, while the other cleans a bit of soot on your forehead, moving your hair out of your face. “I’m right here, gorgeous.”

To say the ambulance ride passes in the blink of an eye would be true, but only to you, because you pass out the moment the vehicle starts. 

Thinking back now, the only memories that appear are the fleeting thought regarding the intense white light that doesn't favour anyone, and the distinct memory of a young man smiling at you before your eyes drifted. A paramedic, perchance. You can’t be too sure. You remember thinking he was cute. 

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you notice is the smell, antiseptic and faintly floral, the sharp sting of alcohol wipes mixing with the artificial sweetness of whatever cleaner they use on hospital floors. It’s sterile, cold, but there’s an undercurrent of warmth in the room, maybe because of the thin blanket draped over you, you breathe in slowly, noticing the lingering scent of smoke still clings to your skin.

But what you’re sure also contributes to the warmth in the room is the second thing that you notice.

The weight on your lap.

It’s late. Well, not late late, because judging by how the sun attempts to peek through the blinds, it’s probably barely past dinner. Lunch, if you’re lucky. Still, the soft glow of the bedside lamp is the main source of light, which ends up casting some very interesting long shadows across the white walls. The muted beep of the heart monitor hums in the background, a steady rhythm, as if reminding you you’re still here. Still alive.

You blink slowly, your head heavy, but when you shift —or at least try to— there’s resistance. And that’s when you notice him.

Changbin, right? 

Guess the handsome young man in the ambulance hadn’t been a paramedic after all. 

He’s slumped over at the side of the hospital bed, head resting on his folded arms —and on you. His temple presses against your thigh, his body curled awkwardly in the small space that the hospital stool allows him, his turnout jacket draped over the chair on the corner he clearly gave up on using. He isn’t wearing his firefighter clothes anymore though, instead wearing a no-sleeves shirt and glasses, crooked on his face as he lets out shy snores.

Asleep.

For a long moment, you allow yourself to just stare. 

His brows are slightly furrowed even in sleep, like some part of him is still braced for disaster. His hand, rough and calloused—one of the hands that had saved you—, lies close to yours, as if he had fallen asleep holding it and only let go when unconsciousness took over. His hair is a mess, dark, curly strands falling into his face,  and there’s a faint streak of soot he must’ve missed when wiping himself clean.

It’s only then when the realization somehow clicks in your head: he is human. A human —a handsome human— who saved your life. Dared to almost sacrifice his own just for that. Heck, you can’t even believe he had jumped from the windowsill and then broken a wall, but now you’re forced to believe that the huge, caring guy that has carried you through a fire and two floors below is the same man whose head is curled up in your lap? 

Your chest aches, but it’s not from the smoke. You fail to hold back a smile as your heart happily prances around. 

It’s a true fear that suddenly strikes when you think that if you get too flustered, the machine you’re plugged into might speed up and wake him. Because of that, your heart can’t help but giggle, nodding at what your brain starts to ponder. 

You want to move, to touch him, to speak —all at the same time, and a sneaky part of your heart wants to add in a kiss to his cheek too—, but you’re scared the moment will shatter like glass.

Still, it isn’t a deliberate motion when your fingers move and settle his glasses right. You don’t even know when you pieced that thought out. 

“Changbin…” your voice is soft, hoarse from hours of smoke inhalation. It doesn’t seem yours, the low sound of your voice unfamiliar. 

He doesn’t stir, but you don’t mind. Your heart high-fives your brain to that, in fact. A part of you prefers it that way. You can’t be too sure you would have known what to say. “Thanks for not letting me die?” Ew, you shake your head sideways softly, smiling like an idiot. You swallow, watching the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, and something warm flickers inside you.

He… stayed.

Even after you made it out of the fire, even after the ambulance ride, he stayed. And now, he’s here, asleep at your side, like keeping watch over you was the only thing that made sense after everything.

Your fingers twitch, hesitating for a moment until then, carefully, you lift your bandaged hand and brush a strand of hair away from his face.

He shifts, murmuring something under his breath.

Your lips tremble into a soft smile.

“Thank you,” you mouth, not risking speaking just in case he wakes up, and to take care of your throat.

And for a moment, it feels like the fire or the smoke never touched you at all.

But then, the soft thud of steps sends a jolt through you.

Your heart stumbles in panic, instinct even, and before you think about it, your eyes flutter shut. You steady your breathing, slow and measured, feigning the steady rhythm of sleep, hoping the beeping machine collaborates just this once. 

The footsteps are quiet, purposeful. They’re heading here. The door creaks open. 

“Bin.”

It’s a whisper, but you recognize the voice in a pulse. Chan. The other firefighter. 

There’s a rustle of fabric, followed by a quiet sigh —maybe a groan, honestly—, and you can almost picture the way Changbin must be running a hand through his hair right now, stretching his back because of the uncomfortable position he has been resting in for a while. 

His voice drifts in from the doorway, the faint creak of the hinge a quiet reminder that the door remains half-open, as if Chan’s unsure whether to step inside or let Changbin be.

Silence. Chris sighs, leaning against the doorframe. 

“She’s stable, mate. I just talked to the doc. Said she just needs rest now.”

The words linger in the room, gentle but firm, in that classical Chan tone that at least makes Changbin chuckle out a smile. You hold back a gasp when the calloused touch of his hand holds yours, and he starts fidgeting with your fingers, almost absentmindedly. It’s not the same as how Chan’s words echo, but still similar in meaning. Chris' words remain in the room and surround Seo, like a hand meant to guide him back to reality —back to the part where his job is done. Where he can leave.

Another pause.

Changbin’s voice follows, rough with exhaustion but steady as ever. 

“I know.” 

It’s a muffled response, and you can only venture and guess why, not daring to crack your eyes open and interrupt them, in fear of what would happen and secretly hoping Changbin’s warm hand doesn’t leave yours for a bit longer, but his voice and diction make it seem like his other hand holds his face up, his palm resting on his chin. 

His words carry a weight that the silence can’t quite swallow, not a protest, but something like a quiet refusal to move.

There’s another beat of silence, and it’s somehow heavier this time. Not empty, but full, swollen with something unspoken, something clawing at the edges of the quiet.

Until Changbin finally voices what’s been eating him alive, his words slow and rough, like they hurt coming out.

“But the nurse said she doesn’t have any emergency contacts,” he mutters. “Something about her file or something—I don’t know. I don’t care.” His voice dips lower, hoarser. “But what that means is that no one’s coming for her.”

The words hang there, sharp and aching.

“No one… no one knows what happened to her. Or if anything happened at all.”

There’s a break in his voice, subtle but there, a quiet grief for someone he barely knows, for someone who asked him to stay because there was no one else.

Your heart clenches so hard it almost hurts, and you pray the machine besides you doesn’t rat out the sudden motion.

Chan’s voice drops lower, almost cautious. He’s never seen Changbin like this after an alert. Not ever, if he thinks about it hard enough. 

“So you stayed.”

It isn’t a question. It doesn’t remotely sound like one, but nevertheless, Changbin shifts. You hear the faint scrape of his shoes against the floor, the rustle of the bed sheets as he readjusts his weight. His hand doesn’t leave yours, and his voice sounds as if he was talking to you. 

He doesn’t turn to Chan to answer the no-question. “She… she asked me to.”

The words hang there, simple but heavy. And yet, there’s a quiet edge to his voice, not defensive. Like a man standing his ground over something that doesn’t need explanation. Like leaving was never even a choice. 

You can hear his shoe and his leg move restlessly.

“She didn’t want me to go,” he says softly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “And I promised I would stay.”

Chan doesn’t respond right away. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more careful. “Bin… you don’t have to take this all on yourself.”

A long sigh escapes Changbin. “I know.”

It’s not defensive, just tired.

Another rustle of fabric, and a few soft steps, and you feel a presence closer. Chan pats him on the shoulder, a silent gesture of support. “Alright,” Chan says at last, his voice calm but firm. “But don’t burn yourself out,” he jokes. 

Changbin chuckles softly, though it lacks humor. “Sure, mister insomnia.”

A quiet snort from Chan. “Yeah, yeah.” A pause. “Want some?”

You don’t see the exchange, but you now can hear the faint sound of someone eating. 

“Chan,” Changbin says after Chris heads back towards the door. Seo licks his lips, a hand over his mouth, food inside. “You can leave. It’s okay.” It’s like his sentence is meant to end there, but then he grimaces. “Bitch, you gave me a burger with pineapple?”

There’s a faint chuckle. 

“I’ll check in later.”

The door clicks shut, and the room is silent again.

You don’t dare open your eyes yet, not when your heart is thudding against your ribs, not when the weight of his words still hangs in the air.

He stayed. Because you asked him to.

Because you have no one else.

And even though your eyes are closed, you can feel it, the way his presence anchors the room, the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing as he eats whatever leftovers Chan gave him.

For a moment, there’s only stillness, like when it’s really late at night and the only sound in the house is made by the fridge’s engine. 

Then, a small sound, the faint scrape of a chair leg being nudged back. You hear the quiet shuffle of his shoes, and the gentle creak of the furniture as it is moved, accompanied by the soft grunts the firefighter lets out.  

You dare to open your eyes, but not fully, and it’s at the view that your heart threatens to swoon. 

Changbin’s making himself a bed on the sofa. 

You close your eyes when he turns around, and he’s close again. So close you can smell the faint traces of smoke still clinging to his clothes, the clean bite of hospital antiseptic mixing with something undeniably him, a warm, steady scent.

A rough sigh escapes him —almost a whisper—, and you feel the shift of his hand as he carefully brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead. His touch is soft, barely there, but it sends a ripple through you.

“Still asleep, huh?” he murmurs, although he can't be sure if it’s more to himself or to you. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but the tenderness in it makes your chest ache again. Your heart reels in happiness, starting to roam around your insides, looking for a ring.

His voice is low, almost careful, like he's afraid anything louder might break something fragile. Afraid the reality of sound breaks the illusion that his heart screams as his hand can't seem to leave yours. As if your touch is one of the sole things that keeps him there, hooked to your side searching for time to answer the questions in his head, because why is his chest so tense? Why does he want to stay until you wake up and help you leave the hospital in one piece? What makes you so different that he can’t bear the thought of leaving? 

There's a weight to his words, not from familiarity, but from everything you’ve both been through tonight, the smoke, the fear, the fact that for a moment, neither of you were sure you’d make it out at all.

He doesn’t move away. Not yet. His heart tells him to kiss your wrist to feel your pulse, his brain asks him if he’s looking for a mental asylum, because he’s definitely going crazy. His fingers linger at his side, and his breathing is just a bit slower now, like he's still steadying himself. 

For a fleeting second, you wonder if this quiet, this ginger ache in his voice, is how he holds onto the people he saves. 

Because even if you're just another name on a report, to him, you're still here. Still breathing. And to you, he’s still there. He’s staying. 

And somehow, that seems to matter.

Another quiet sigh threatens to make your heart feel like it might break in tears, because it’s just ridiculous how much it suddenly means to you that he’s keeping his promise. Not the silly little thing he added when he entered the ambulance, no. He’s keeping the promise he made after he had run up flame-filled halls and jumped from the windowsill to find you. The one he had cooed at you softly before he broke a wall and rushed down broken stairs to get you both to safety.

And now, even as sleep tugs at him, even as exhaustion threatens to drag him under, he’s still… protecting you. Even in sleep. Prepared to fight flames if they dare trouble you in your sleep again. 

You fight the urge to lift your hand, to brush your fingers through his hair, to soothe the lines of tension etched into his face.

No. Instead, you stay still, pretending to be asleep, even though your heart is wide awake.

And so, you stay like this —him asleep, you pretending—, the silence between you thick with things unsaid. The hospital room hums softly with the rhythm of machines, the distant murmur of voices in the corridor, but it all feels far away. Here, there’s only the quiet rise and fall of his breath, the slight furrow of his brow even in sleep, like he’s still bracing for disaster.

Your fingers twitch at your side. The urge to reach for him —to brush a hand over his hair or trace the slope of his knuckles— simmers beneath your skin. It’s foolish, really. He’s just a firefighter. You’re just a girl he saved. That’s all this is.

And yet. And yet.

The weight of his head on your lap, the way his body has angled itself as if to shield you from something unseen feels like more. Too much.

A lump rises in your throat, and you swallow it down, willing your heartbeat to settle.

But then, a sound.

The door creaks open again, its hinges groaning softly into the hush of the room. Your heart stutters, even if your eyes stay shut the entire time.

Footsteps. Quiet, but firm. Someone trying to be gentle but too used to rushing. Soft footsteps that pad into the room, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric. It can only be a nurse, moving with silent efficiency. The clipboard clicks as they check the monitors beside you, the steady beep of your heart rate betraying the erratic thrum in your chest.

There’s a pause, a slight hesitation, as if they’ve just noticed the man asleep at your side.

“Sir?” The nurse’s voice is soft, polite, but questioning.

A beat. Changbin stirs, a slow exhale leaving him as he blinks himself back to consciousness. His head lifts from your lap, and as his cheek loses the warmth of your leg, a strange, pained feeling settles in his chest.

For a moment, he just stares at you. At the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the bandage peeking out from beneath the hospital gown. Even asleep, you look fragile, too still, and something tightens behind his ribs. He wonders, not for the first time, if you have someone —anyone— coming for you.

He clears his throat, voice rough. “Sorry,” he mutters, straightening in the chair. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the haze of sleep and the lingering feel of your warmth. “I… uh… she asked me to stay,” he solves. 

The nurse is quiet for a moment, the sound of a pen scratching against the clipboard filling the silence.

Changbin shifts, his jaw tight. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have made it sound like it mattered so much, even if his heart keeps screaming at him that it does.

“The doctor said there weren’t emergency contacts listed,” he adds quietly, like an explanation, though he’s not sure if it’s for the nurse or himself. “I… didn’t want her to be alone.”

It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?

Because when you grabbed his arm in the ambulance, voice hoarse but certain, something in him buckled, as if the moon had suddenly made the tides raise havoc upon the shore, salt and water raining all over the port —all over his heart. Because, even now, hours later, he’s still here. Because the thought of you waking up alone in this sterile, empty room feels… wrong.

“Well,” the nurse says softly, a faint smile in his voice, “seems like she’s not alone, then.”

You nearly flinch at that.

And to him, the words shouldn’t hit as hard as they do.

But oh, they do.

And as Changbin lets out a slow breath, settling back into the chair, his gaze drifts to your hand —inches from his own— and he wonders what it would feel like to take it again. Maybe you’d wake up. And maybe you’d squeeze his hand in reassurance, and thank him for staying. He’d say… well. He’d figure it out.

His fingers twitch once, then go still again.

The nurse moves with practiced quiet, his hands gentle as he checks the monitors, the steady beep of your heart rate, the soft hiss of oxygen flowing through the tube near your bed. He jots something down on a clipboard, his pen scratching softly against paper.

Then comes the IV check. A light touch on the line running from your arm to the bag hanging by your bedside. He adjusts the flow, tilts his head at the readout. Everything seems normal.

Changbin’s jaw tightens.

He’s watching him now, not fully awake, but not asleep either. His gaze flickers to the monitor, tracking the subtle jump in your heart rate when the nurse gently lifts your bandaged hand to inspect it.

“Has she woken up at all since she was brought in?” the nurse asks, his voice a whisper.

Changbin's throat bobs with a swallow. “No,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from sleep and something else. Something heavier. He doesn’t quite know how to describe it. “She hasn’t.”

The nurse nods softly, lowering your hand back onto the blanket. Another note scribbled onto the clipboard.

“Did she mention any pain or trouble breathing when you got here?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “She didn’t say much. Just…”

He stops, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the edge of your blanket in a small, repetitive motion. He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t say: she only asked me to stay.

The nurse lingers for a moment longer, adjusting the blanket over you. When he turns away, Changbin watches him with a careful intensity, as if making sure he doesn’t miss anything, as if his presence alone might be enough to keep you safe.

“I’ll be around this hallway for the rest of the evening and night,” he says softly. “My name is Minho. If there’s anything you need, or anything happens to her, I’m right here.” 

Changbin acknowledges him with a nod and a soft smile, and the door clicks shut softly behind him.

Silence again. Changbin curls up his head in his arms, and finally caves in, holding your hand.

He just hopes you wake up soon to fill it.

And you too fall asleep, feeling the warmth that radiates off of him lull you back in.

[.]

The room remains dim, bathed in the muted glow of a single white light near the doorway. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor is the only sound, a quiet metronome against the hush of the hospital night.

Changbin hasn’t moved much, only a small shift here and there, the weight of sleep keeping him grounded, his hand still wrapped loosely around yours. His head remains pillowed on his arms, his breathing deep and even, though a slight furrow still mars his brow, as if even in sleep, he’s standing guard.

And for a while, so are you. Asleep, but not fully. Your mind drifts in that fragile space between rest and remembrance, where the smoke still curls at the edges of your thoughts and the heat still nips at your skin.

It happens slowly at first. A subtle twitch of your fingers. The tiniest furrow of your brow. Your breathing —steady, smooth— starts to shift, each inhale just a bit sharper than the last.

Then the dream grips you.

A flash of fire. The suffocating weight of smoke. The roar of collapsing walls. 

Your chest tightens. The flames creep closer. You can’t move. You can’t breathe—

A ragged gasp rips through the silence as you bolt upright. The heart monitor spikes, a frantic beeping that shatters the calm.

Changbin is already awake.

“Hey, hey, gorgeous.” His voice is raspy from sleep, but his hand is steady, already reaching for your arm, until it reaches your cheek, careful not to touch anywhere bandaged. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Your wide eyes dart around the room. The sterile white walls, the IV in your arm, the dim glow of hospital lights. No fire. No smoke. Just… a hospital.

And him.

Your breathing stutters, and your hand —the one not hooked to the IV— grips his forearm before you even register the movement.

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t move an inch.

“You’re safe,” Changbin says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in slow, steady circles. It’s the same motion you felt on your knuckles before falling asleep. “It was just a dream. You’re here now.”

It’s his voice that grounds you. The rough gentleness of it. The steadiness, like a hand on your back guiding you out of the smoke and helping you cough it out.

And finally —finally— the world stops burning.

Your grip on his arm loosens slightly. You close your eyes for a second, trying to steady yourself, but when you open them again, he’s still there. Still watching you with that same quiet intensity.

“Did I… wake you?” you rasp, voice hoarse from sleep, and from the lingering effects of smoke.

Changbin’s lips twitch into the faintest smile. “You could say that.”

But there’s no frustration in his voice. Only relief.

Because you’re awake now, and that's all that matters.

The heart monitor slows, the beeping settling into its steady rhythm again. The silence that follows feels… different.

Not like before.

It’s not the heavy quiet of waiting or the emptiness of unspoken fear. It’s something softer, a silence that hums with everything left unsaid. Something lighter, as you and Changbin sit there, breathing, your hearts yearning for any kind of excuse to justify the need to keep looking at each other eye to eye.

Your hand still rests on his arm. His thumb still traces small, timid circles on your face. 

Neither of you moves to pull away.

And for a long moment, you just… stare at each other.

His dark hair is a mess, strands sticking out in every direction, evidence of too many hours spent with his head pillowed on his arms. His shirt is wrinkled, the smell of smoke still faintly clings to him. His eyes, though—those sharp, intense eyes—are soft now. Warm in a way you weren’t expecting. You notice a faint shadow beneath them. A subtle tightness around his mouth, almost as if there’s exhaustion carved into his every movement, but his gaze is steady. 

And you? You’re pretty sure you're a mess too. Bandages, an IV, a raspy voice —but you’re awake. You're alive.

And so is he. With no injuries, too. 

Your breathing hitches for a beat. It’s not from panic this time, but something else entirely. Something harder to name. A raw blend of relief, disbelief, and something soft and fragile that flutters in your chest every time his thumb brushes your skin. 

And by how his eyes seem to soften, chances are it hits you both at the same time. A sudden, silent realization that you made it. That he saved you. That he’s still here. That for some reason —some quiet, unspeakable reason— it means more than it should. That the danger is behind you. That there’s no fire, no smoke. 

Just… this. This strange little pocket of quiet where you’re both here, in front of each other, still breathing, still here, and it feels... unreal.

The seconds stretch.

The weight of it presses into your chest, something fragile and unfamiliar, an ache that isn’t painful but still makes it hard to breathe. The kind of feeling that grows in the aftermath of fear—when the adrenaline fades but the person who pulled you through is still standing there.

If he’s feeling the exact same thing, you don’t know. With a sheepish lick of his lips, Changbin lets out a short sigh, as if he had just remembered that breathing is a necessity, not a choice. His arm gingerly moves from your face, afraid at the possible implications of his tender touch, but at the same time, he ends up with his hand over yours. As if the intensity of him holding your hand was a tiny bit more manageable than your face. 

And then, you…

You laugh.

Quiet at first, just a soft exhale, but it bubbles out of you before you can stop it. Breathy, almost startled by its own existence. You don’t know why. Maybe there is nothing that can describe whatever it is that you’re feeling, so you keep laughing. It’s not funny —not even close— but the feeling is too much, too big to contain. It spills out in giggles, a release of all the tension that’s been wound tight since the moment you woke up, and even before, when you faked being asleep. The fire, the rescue, the nightmare, and now this, sitting in a dim hospital room, staring at the firefighter who saved your life like he's the only person in the world.

Changbin blinks—once, twice—before his own lips twitch into a smile.

Then, he chuckles.

Not because it’s funny —although it’s starting to seem that way, because your laugh is cute—, but because what else is he supposed to do? He doesn’t have the words for what he feels —not yet, at least— so the laugh comes instead. Quiet, but real.

And just like that, you’re both giggling. Like mad teens after a stupid joke. Like children that get away with breaking mom’s favourite mug even when they were told not to play with the ball inside and they managed to blame dad successfully.

It’s not loud, rather still hushed by the weight of the night, but it’s… real. You can’t really describe it with many other words that could convey its full meaning. It’s that shaky, breathless kind of laughter that sneaks up on you when you least expect it, like you both just realized how ridiculous this all is. A fragile kind of laughter, that trembles at the edges, as if acknowledging how close everything came to breaking. How strange it feels to be alive and here, together, after everything.

For Changbin, it’s a release. A break in the tight grip of fear he hadn’t even noticed was still holding onto him. The fear that you wouldn’t wake up, that you’d slip away silently like smoke through his fingers. A smoke he couldn’t control, burning in a fire he couldn’t save you from. But now, you’re laughing, and it’s the most beautiful sound he's heard in days.

You cover your mouth to muffle the sound, but Changbin just grins wider, his shoulders shaking as his hand drags down his face.

“Sorry—” you whisper between small gasps of laughter. “I-I don’t know why—”

“I don’t either,” Changbin admits, his eyes crinkling at the corners. But his voice is different now—less rough, less burdened. Like, for the first time since the fire, he’s let himself breathe.

And for a few stolen seconds, there’s nothing. Just two people, safe and awake and alive, sharing silly giggles in the quiet.

You can’t piece together how he ends up too shy and moves away, standing up, still giggling, but now, unbeknownst to you, blushing. He curses for the new-formed distance he can only blame himself for, excusing it with not wanting to overwhelm you by being too close. 

He manages —you can’t comprehend how— to fit, broad back, huge muscles and all, into the tiny surface area of the makeshift bed he’s created with the sofa in the room. 

Then, he turns off the lights. 

And then, nothing. 

You’re too afraid to move around in your bed, now painfully aware of the IV line plugged into your arm, and afraid to damage the bandages on your hand. 

But it’s too quiet. Too still. And even though the fire is gone, the smoke long cleared, something inside you still smolders. Some kind of restlessness, a need to fill the space with something. Anything. 

“Can you sleep?” your voice comes out in a whisper, rough but soft enough not to break the delicate quiet.

Changbin huffs a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, but close. He could kiss you right now just for speaking, and —according to a dark, hidden part of his heart he didn’t usually listen to— if he wasn’t such a damn coward, he would. “No, not really.”

You purse your lips together and shift slightly against the pillow, careful not to jostle your bandaged hand. “Me neither.”

There’s another beat of silence, but this one feels expectant, like both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

And then, you turn on the lamp on the nightstand. 

“Would you rather…” Your voice is a little stronger now, a teasing edge creeping in. “Fight one horse-sized duck… or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

For a moment, there’s nothing.

And then Changbin lets out an incredulous chuckle. Soft, and full of disbelief. 

“You’re kidding.”

You shrug. Well, the best version of a shrug you can manage with your injuries. 

“You’d be surprised to know I am deadly serious.”

He sits up on the sofa and turns to face you, sitting almost crisscrossed, with a knee raised. There’s a soft ‘hmm’ he murmured as he ponders while stretching, the tension in his shoulders easing bit by bit. 

“The duck,” he says after a moment, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Get it by the neck and hold on for dear life.”

You blink, biting back a smile. “Solid strategy.”

He tilts his head, his own smile creeping in again. “Your turn.”

“Ask ahead then,” you grin teasingly. “Or should I say fire away?”

Changbin blinks. “Oh, god no. You’ve spoken with Chan once and you already have his stupid jokes.” He teases with a sarcastic dread in his tone. 

“Sure, sure, but go on. Blaze ahead.”

“Shut up,” he whines playfully, laughing, trying to come up with another would you rather question. 

“C’mon, mister fireman. Ignite me.” You giggle, hugging your knees. “I’m burning with curiosity.” 

“Okay, okay, goddamnit,” he laughs. “Would you rather… have to wear a superhero cape every day or bunny ears for a year?” 

You smile. “That’s easy. Bunny ears for sure.” He leans against the sofa, propping his head up with his hand as he listens to you. “I mean. They can look half decent,” you solve with a shrug. “Besides, if good cinema ever taught me anything, it’s that capes are nothing but a nuisance.”

“Isn’t that from The Incredibles?” He snorts. “Like, the kids movie?”

“Oh, hell yeah it is. But that movie is solid gold, c’mon.”

And just like that, the weight of the night shifts again, the stillness breaking apart as the two of you slip into this quiet, strange game.

Two people who can’t sleep.

Two people who survived.

At some point you tease him to such an extent he moves back to the stool —to prove a point, sure, and to shorten the distance, most likely. You find out that Chan had packed clothes for Changbin to change into in the hospital, and when he goes to grab a sweater, out of the backpack falls a forgotten deck of UNO cards, loosely tied together by what Seo recognizes to be one of Hyunjin’s lost hair ties.

There’s only a chorus of playful snickers as the duel begins between the two of you and the colourful cards being settled on the edge of the nightstand. 

Two people who don’t want to sleep right now.

Two people who are alive.

And maybe —just maybe— two people who are starting to feel something more. 

At least, more than your average firefighter-victim relationship.

[.]

Eventually, the game slows. The stack of UNO cards sits forgotten on the nightstand, a few strays scattered across the blanket between you. Neither of you says it, but the thrill of competition has fizzled out, replaced by something quieter. Something neither of you wants to name just yet.

Changbin leans back in the chair, his arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess we’re both too stubborn to lose,” he says. You grin. 

A beat of silence. Then…

“So…” you say, shifting slightly under the blanket. “Would you rather… go back to Would You Rather?”

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head, but there’s no protest, merely teasing. “Fine,” he says, his grin matching yours. “But only because you’re clearly terrible at UNO.”

You gasp in mock offense, and the banter starts again, light, easy, a comfortable rhythm.

The questions start off silly.

“Would you rather only eat spicy ramen for the rest of your life or never eat ramen again?”

“Would you rather glow in the dark or leave a trail of sparkles everywhere you go?”

But slowly, without either of you meaning to, the questions shift. Until. 

“Would you rather be anywhere else but here right now?”

It’s a quiet question —not a joke, not a tease— and it hangs between you for a moment too long.

Your smile trembles in your lips.

You think quietly. Would you? Be anywhere else? Because, if you dare to be true to yourself, this is the first time you’ve felt at home ever since you moved to the city. No fake smiles. No jokes you don’t understand. No friends with inside comments you don’t get, and that apparently you can’t because ‘you just had to be there.’ No stingy comments. Just the warmth of a foreign body next to yours. A stranger. 

The warmest stranger you’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter. And even though warmth —fire— seems quite scary right now, your answer still stands. 

You don’t look at him when you answer. “No,” you whisper. “I wouldn’t.”

The words are simple, but the weight behind them isn’t.

Because you’re still here —still breathing, still alive— and maybe you don’t want to be anywhere else because here, at least, you aren’t alone. With him, you don’t feel alone. Not as much as you felt the moment you went to bed. 

Changbin doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you, his thumb absently brushing over the edge of the blanket. A small, repetitive motion.

And then softly, like he’s choosing his words carefully —almost like it’s not a game anymore—, his tongue twisted with the weight of his next few words, almost as heavy as yours. 

“Would you rather… be alone tonight?”

Your heart skips.

The answer is already there, caught in your throat. But it still takes a moment for you to say it. To admit it. Although you’re not quite sure if it’s to you, to him, or rather the certainty that saying it out loud brings. 

“No.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, your voice, quiet but steady this time, breaks it again. 

“Will you… stay?” You swallow dry. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but—“

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’ll stay.”

And for a long moment, neither of you moves.

Until, finally, you shift. Barely, just slightly, but still making enough room on the bed. An invitation.

He hesitates again. A part of him knows it’s not because he doesn’t want to, but because there’s a line he’s not sure he’s allowed to cross.

But then, carefully —like he’s afraid to disturb the moment, the bed, the silence, and the worded weight around you two— he sits.

The bed dips under his weight, a soft shift that somehow makes the silence heavier. You don’t move away, and neither does he. There’s a space between you, but it’s small. Smaller than it was before.

His shoulder brushes yours, his hand too, and for a moment, that’s all there is. The quiet thrum of the heart monitor. The faint buzz of the nightstand light. The soft rhythm of two people breathing in the same pocket of air.

Changbin leans back against the wall, his head tilting just enough that the side of it barely grazes the top of yours. He smells like faint smoke and clean laundry. Like something steady. Something safe.

For a long while, neither of you speaks.

Until you do.

“Do you do this often?” you whisper.

He blinks. “What?”

There’s a tremor of hesitation in your voice. As if a part of you doesn’t want to know. Nevertheless, you clarify the question. 

“Stay with people like this.” You lick your lips.” After saving their lives.”

His throat bobs with a swallow, and there’s a beat before he answers. “No,” he says softly. “I don’t.”

Your fingers curl into the blanket, but you nod like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like the fact that he’s still here doesn’t send a quiet flutter through your ribs.

His voice, rough but gentle, breaks the silence again. “Would you rather… talk about what happened?”

The question hits like a spark in the dark, soft, but impossible to ignore.

Your chest tightens. The fire, the smoke, the feeling of heat licking at your heels, your arms, your hand, your face.  It’s all there, just beneath the surface.

But then there’s him. Here. Real.

“No,” you whisper. “Not right now.”

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask why. Instead, he shifts —the smallest movement— and for a brief, fleeting second, his hand brushes yours. A ghost of a touch.

And maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s something else.

But your fingers catch his before he can pull away.

He freezes. 

Outside the hospital, the night is cool and quiet, the air thick with the lingering scent of rain. Rain after the storm of fire that raged, and now, calm. The pavement glistens under the dim glow of streetlights, slick with leftover droplets that catch the light like tiny stars. A soft breeze rustles through the trees lining the sidewalk, their leaves whispering secrets to the dark. In the distance, the occasional hum of a passing car cuts through the stillness, but here, just through the window of your hospital room, the world feels hushed. As if it, too, is holding its breath.

“Would you rather… stay like this?” you ask softly.

His hand, rough and calloused, slowly —carefully— closes around yours. His warmth seeps into your skin like a quiet promise. His grip, steady but gentle, as if afraid you might regret it and pull away, as if anchoring himself just as much as he’s anchoring you. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in a slow, absentminded motion, a silent reassurance, a quiet reply. 

He voices it. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I would.”

And for the first time all night, the silence doesn’t feel so heavy.

It feels like a promise.

The warmth of his hand lingers, grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. You swallow, the weight in your chest shifting—not disappearing, but settling into something softer, something known. 

It triggers what, at first, you don’t mean to say out loud. But the words slip past your lips, quiet and a little broken. It’s a confession that hangs between you both, soft yet heavy, like smoke that hasn’t quite cleared.

“I’m scared to fall asleep.”

Changbin lets the silence settle, not uncomfortable, but steady, giving you the space to breathe through it. To own the fear without rushing to fix it.

Then, just as your chest tightens from the weight of your own words, his voice cuts through the quiet. Low, rough around the edges.

“You don’t have to,” he says simply. “Not alone.”

And something about the way he says it —as if it’s the easiest promise in the world— makes your throat burn. Not from smoke this time.

You inhale slowly, shakily, and exhale even slower. And before you can stop yourself, you shift —again, just a little— until your head finds the slope of his shoulder.

It’s tentative at first. A question more than a gesture.

But when Changbin leans into you and squeezes your hand, just enough to let you know it’s okay, the tension inside you unravels.

Your breathing evens out, the beep of the heart monitor blending into the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath your cheek.

And for the first time since the fire —since the fear— you start to feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re safe. At least with him by your side. 

And yet, even if his actions don’t let you see through it, your words tug at something deep in him.

Because for hours —since pulling you from the flames— he’s been fighting a battle no one can see. A war of what ifs and almosts.

What if he hadn’t found you in time?

What if the fire had moved faster?

He’s a firefighter. He’s used to running into danger, to carrying people out of the worst moments of their lives —but it’s never felt like this before.

It’s never felt so… personal.

And now, with you here —breathing, alive, safe— his chest still aches like he’s been the one pulled from the smoke.

Your head rests lightly on his shoulder, and Changbin doesn’t move.

At first, it’s because he doesn’t want to startle you —doesn’t want to make you second-guess the small, fragile moment unfolding between you. But then the reason changes.

He doesn’t move because he can’t.

Because suddenly, the weight of you against him —soft, real, alive— is the only thing holding him together. It hits him like a slow burn, the kind of feeling that creeps in quietly before it consumes everything. All the panic he’s been swallowing since the fire. All the fear he’s ignored since he carried you out of that building.

It’s never bothered him before —the risk, the running headfirst into danger —but this is different. He has no idea why, but you are different.

And now that you’re here, leaning into him, trusting him enough to admit you’re scared, he feels the ache in his chest shift into something else entirely. Something harder to name.

He lets out a slow breath, careful not to disturb the way you fit so perfectly against him, your head on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck.

It’s terrifying, in its own way. How easy this feels. How natural it is to have you this close, like you’re not a stranger he pulled from the fire, but someone he’s always known. His hand moves, fingers threading, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. Touch you like he needs it. To reassure himself you’re still there.

He watches the rise and fall of your chest, the soft flutter of your eyelashes as you fight to stay awake, and somewhere in the quiet, with the scent of antiseptic in the air and the distant hum of hospital machines, a single, unshakable thought roots itself in his mind.

He’s not just protecting you anymore. He wants to.

Not because it’s his job. Not because he’s a firefighter. 

He doesn’t move because… he likes it.

It’s quiet,  the kind of quiet that only happens in the middle of the night, when the world feels smaller, softer. And somehow, despite the distinct sterile smell of hospital all over, and the distant hum of machines, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

It feels safe.

And that’s what surprises him most. Not that you leaned into him, that he doesn’t mind. His heart dares to encourage it, screaming at him to put his arm around your shoulders, to try and make you more comfortable. 

What surprises him is that it feels… easy. He isn’t sure what to make of it. You’re still somewhat of a stranger —someone he pulled from the fire, someone he met hours ago— but that doesn’t change the fact that right now, the weight of your head against his shoulder and your hand in his feels more grounding than anything else has all night.

He’s not overthinking it, not really. He doesn’t have the energy to pick it apart. All he knows is that you asked him to stay, and somehow, that is all it takes.

So he stays.

It’s daring, his heart beating in his chest loudly. He’s almost afraid you can hear it, but his actions don’t falter, as he softly —tenderly— moves the two of you lower on the bed, and even softer now, he moves your head closer to the crook of his neck, letting you use his arm as a pillow below your head. 

He lets out a slow breath, careful not to disturb the moment. For the first time since the fire, since the smoke, since the chaos, the silence doesn’t feel so heavy.

He smiles as you fall asleep next to him. 

And he, too, as he watches you breathe, ends up falling asleep. 

[.]

The morning light filters through the thin hospital curtains, casting soft golden stripes across the room. The world outside has begun to stir —distant footsteps in the hall, the squeak of a wheel on a gurney— but here, in this small pocket of time, it’s still quiet.

Changbin’s eyes flutter open first.

For a moment, he doesn’t move —doesn’t even breathe too loudly—, because the weight of your head is still there, resting on his arm, that while he was asleep dared to surround your shoulders and pull you just a bit closer. The scent of antiseptic and smoke has long faded into something softer, something he can’t quite name, but it feels like you.

He should move. Move you, too. He should sit up and stretch the cramp out of his neck, maybe step outside to get a coffee.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, his lashes lower again, and he lets himself go still, pretending to be asleep, even though his heart is wide awake.

He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s the way your breathing syncs with his, soft and even. Maybe it’s the fragile stillness of the moment, and how moving might break whatever delicate thread is holding it together.

Your eyelids twitch before they lift, a slow, groggy blink as the world slips back into focus. The dull ache in your limbs, the sterile scent of the hospital, the soft warmth of a body against yours —it all comes back at once.

And then you notice him.

Changbin, head tilted just slightly toward your neck, your face, breathing steady, eyes closed. 

Still here. Your heart gives a little stutter, almost like a giggle.

For a second, you just watch him. Watch the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. You miss that, contrary to the last time you watched him asleep, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep isn’t there. As if even the part of him that is always ready to wake up, always ready to move also relaxes against you. The calloused hand that rests near yours, not quite touching anymore, but close enough that a shift —a single slip of your pinky— would bridge the gap.

It’s a quiet, still moment. One you could hold onto for a little longer if you wanted. But then your body betrays you —a sight, a slight shift of your neck, a sharper inhale— and Changbin’s lashes flicker. His breathing changes.

And even though you don’t notice at first, the rise and fall of his chest is a little too controlled, his head just a little too still.

You blink at him.

He’s awake.

Your lips twitch.

He’s pretending to be asleep.

The corners of your mouth lift, your heart a strange mixture of warm and restless in your chest. You dare to wobbly move closer to him, and you almost laugh when his breathing stills. 

“You’re a terrible actor,” you murmur next to his ear, voice hoarse from sleep but carrying enough playfulness to break the quiet.

Changbin’s lips twitch —just barely— before his eyes open softly, a dark brown gaze meeting yours like he’s been caught.

“Was worth a shot,” he rasps back with a smile. His cheeks blush without him knowing. 

“I’m glad you’re a firefighter,” you tease again. “Keep in mind not to act.” 

A small laugh escapes you—hoarse, a little fragile, but real. It slips through the quiet like a spark, and you catch the way Changbin’s smile softens in response, his head still resting against yours.

“You do this often?” you tease, your voice still scratchy but playful. “Fake sleeping next to… strangers?”

His smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Only when they ask me to stay.”

The words hang in the air for a second too long.

Something shifts—like a silent inhale neither of you dare to take—and suddenly, the joke feels heavier. Not enough to crush the moment, but enough to remind you both why you’re here, why his shoulder is under your head, why neither of you really want to move just yet. He’s close. Really close. 

It’s Changbin who speaks first, his voice quieter now. “How… how do you feel?”

You swallow, licking your lips. “Well.” Your bandaged hand travels to scratch your eye. “Like I’ve been in a fire.”

That earns a chuckle from him—a little rough, but genuine—and the sound makes your chest swoon in a way that has nothing to do with smoke inhalation. The smile lingers on his face, but there’s a flicker of something else behind it. Concern, maybe, or something close enough to it. His hand shifts, fingers that move a strand of hair away from your face, and then lowering, grazing the hem of your blanket, like he’s not sure what to do with them now.

“You really stayed the whole time?” you ask softly.

Changbin’s gaze drops for a beat, then lifts back to yours. “Yeah.” A small shrug. “Didn’t really want to leave.”

Your heart does something strange—tightens and warms all at once.

Neither of you speak after that. Not immediately.

And when you shift just a little closer, as if wanting to melt in the warmth that surrounds him and that lemon-scented soap he must have used, your shoulder still pressed against his, your hand resting near his on the blanket—he doesn’t move away.

If anything, it feels like he leans in too.

The quiet between you stretches —not uncomfortable, but something else. Something that feels like a held breath.

You glance at his hand, resting just inches from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you think about closing the distance. Last time, it came out as a reflex, but now, you can’t help but think. About what it might mean. About how absurd it is that this man —this firefighter you barely know— has somehow anchored himself into this strange, raw part of your life.

But before the thought can settle, there’s a soft knock at the door. Changbin’s heart panics and he sits up, although his hand doesn’t move an inch away from yours. 

It’s the nurse. Minho. He pokes his head in, offering a small smile. “Good to see you awake,” he says warmly. “The doctor will be in soon to talk about your discharge.”

Discharge.

The word hits harder than you expect. And it shouldn’t, because this is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? To get out of the hospital, to go back to your life, to leave all of this behind —the fire, the smoke, the fear, the sterile smell of antiseptic.

But suddenly, it feels like a thread is about to be cut.

You nod slowly, murmuring a quiet “thank you,” and the nurse slips back out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence again.

Changbin’s hand twitches —just a small movement, but enough to pull your attention back to him. His jaw works for a moment, like he’s chewing on words he doesn’t know how to spit out.

“So,” you say, because the quiet feels too heavy now. “Guess I’m leaving soon.”

His gaze flickers to the door, then back to you. “Yeah. Looks like it.” There’s a smile on his face, but it’s softer now —something caught between relief and hesitation. “It’s a good thing.”

Another pause.

You should say something —anything— but the words knot in your throat.

It’s Changbin who finally breaks the silence.

“Will you be… okay?” he asks, his voice quieter than before. “When you go home?”

The question is simple, but there’s something underneath it —something more than concern. Something almost like please don’t make this the last time we talk. And you feel it too.

It’s then when it hits him.

You haven’t called anyone. Not since you woke up. Not once.

He keeps his voice steady, but there’s a new edge to it now, a careful sort of concern. “Did you want to… let someone know? That you’re okay?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Family, a friend, a…,” he says, a little too quickly, like the words have been sitting on his tongue for a while now. The last one somehow doesn’t come out, as if he struggles with it. “I just… noticed you haven’t called anyone.”

Your throat tightens. He’s right, you didn’t. You hadn’t even thought about it.

The realization makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with smoke inhalation.

Your lips part, but no words come.

Because the truth settles in like a stone in your chest.

You can’t call your family, your dad long gone, your mom in another country and your grandma in a nursing home too far away. Calling would just make them worry. 

And you… don’t want to call your friends.

The realization creeps in slowly, like smoke slipping under a door. Quiet, suffocating. There’s no one waiting outside the hospital for you, no missed calls from anyone who knows what happened—because no one knows, at least not that you know too. Just silence.

Your throat tightens. You blink down at your lap, your fingers curling into the edge of the bedsheet, where Changbin had slept. “I… don’t know,” you mutter finally. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either —just something soft enough to hide behind.

Changbin watches you carefully, his gaze steady, the line between his brows deepening. “No one?”

You shake your head once, keeping your focus fixed on the folds of fabric in your lap. “Not really.”

It’s quiet for a moment, long enough for your heart to thud against your ribs, for the ache behind your sternum to press even harder.

Then Changbin clears his throat softly. “What about… a partner?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide. “What?”

He shrugs, his voice quieter now. “Just thought… maybe you’d want to call them. Let them know you’re okay.”

A pause. Then, a small, dry chuckle slips from your lips —not bitter, but slightly amused. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Changbin blinks, his mouth parting just slightly. “Oh.” It’s not much, but the surprise in his voice is unmistakable. His brows twitch, his lips part slightly —like the answer catches him off guard more than it should.

The room feels quieter now.

You glance down at your lap, your fingers playing with the edge of the hospital blanket. “No emergency contacts… no boyfriend…” you say softly, more to yourself than him. “It’s just me.”

It’s the first time either of you really acknowledges it. The fact that when you woke up, there was no one else to call.

No one but him.

And Changbin, without thinking, starts fidgeting with his hands, scratching the small bits of dead skin around his nails —not out of anxiety, but something else entirely. Something he can’t name yet.

Another beat of silence.

Changbin doesn’t say anything at first. Just sits there, still as stone. It’s not like he expected you to have someone waiting in the wings — a boyfriend, a best friend, a sibling— but the fact that you didn’t… the fact that when you woke up, he was the only one sitting at your bedside…

It settles into him like a slow-burning flame. Like a candle that cheekily refuses to light while you battle to not burn your fingers as you hold the lit match closer to it. Because suddenly, it’s not just about the fire anymore. It’s not just about the rescue or about saving someone because it’s his job.

It’s about you.

He thinks about the way you clung to his sleeve when he tried to leave you in the ambulance. The way you asked him to stay, like he was the only steady thing in the chaos. The way you fell asleep in his arms last night, breathing slow and soft like maybe, just maybe, being close to him made you feel a little safer.

And now, the quiet way you admit like it’s just a fact, not a tragedy  that it’s “just you” makes something tug in his chest, something sharp and strange, because you don’t have anyone else right now, but his heart somehow stands with pride. 

You’re still here, his heart says. You can stay longer. 

And for reasons he can’t explain —reasons he’s too mentally drained to untangle— Changbin suddenly wants to be someone for you. Maybe not the person. Maybe not anything special. But someone.

Someone who stays.

[.]

The discharge process moves forward around you, impersonal and efficient.

A nurse removes the IV from your hand with practiced ease, placing a small piece of gauze over the spot before securing it with medical tape. “You’re all set,” she says. “Doctor will be in soon with your paperwork. Just take it easy for the next few days.”

You nod, murmuring a quiet thanks, but your attention is elsewhere, on the way Changbin hasn’t moved from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest, staring outside like the world beyond the hospital walls holds some kind of answer he’s not ready to face.

You crack your knuckles absentmindedly —only the ones in your healthy hand, just in case—, and also rubbing at the faint indentation the IV left behind. The room feels… different now. Lighter, maybe. Too light, like something’s being lifted away before you’re ready to let it go.

“So,” you say, just to fill the silence. “Guess I’m finally getting kicked out of here.”

Changbin exhales a short, amused breath, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess so.”

A pause. Too long. Too loaded.

You don’t know what to say to make this feel normal. You should be relieved—you are relieved—but there’s something about the way the past several hours have unfolded, about how much space he’s taken up in them, that makes leaving feel… strange.

He turns to you then, shifting his weight like he’s about to say something important, but the door swings open before he can.

The doctor steps in with a clipboard, professional and efficient, talking about medications, follow-up care, rest. You try to focus, nodding in the right places, but your thoughts are still tangled somewhere between the hospital bed and the quiet weight of Changbin’s presence beside it.

And when the doctor finally hands you the discharge papers and tells you you’ll soon be good to go, the realization settles in.

You don’t want to. Not yet.

And you’re not sure if it’s the hospital you’re reluctant to leave—or the person standing across from you, watching you like he might not be ready either.

Changbin turns around again. Changbin hasn’t moved from his spot by the window. Arms crossed, shoulders tense, he watches the city outside, bathed in the dim glow of streetlights. The world keeps moving—cars humming down rain-slick roads, neon signs flickering against the glass, people going about their lives as if nothing has changed.

But everything has changed.

He exhales, watching his breath fog faintly against the cold surface, only to realize something else reflected in the glass.

Someone else.

You.

Seated on the edge of the hospital bed, fingers grazing the fresh gauze on your hand, eyes lowered in quiet thought.

He stops looking at the view. And Seo starts looking at you.

Your expression is unreadable, lips slightly parted like there’s something on the tip of your tongue you haven’t decided whether to say. There’s something almost fragile about the moment—like if he moves too suddenly, it might break.

And he doesn’t want to break it.

So he just… watches. Takes in the way exhaustion still clings to you, the way you breathe a little slower now, steadier, but not quite at ease.

And then, as if you can feel his eyes on you, your gaze lifts—and meets his through the glass.

His breath catches.

And suddenly, the view behind the glass doesn’t seem so important anymore.

“Take a picture, mister firefighter,” you smile. “It’ll last longer.”

You shift in the bed and pat the space beside you, inviting him closer. His eyes tell some kind of story you want to read but don’t know the language. Yours blink. Your heart knows it’d make you learn it in a beat if it meant staying longer in this no-smoke bubble. 

Changbin huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t look away just yet. The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s debating saying something, but instead, he just watches you for a second longer before finally pushing away from the window.

He hesitates for only a breath before accepting the silent invitation, moving to sit beside you on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and for a moment, neither of you say anything.

Up close, you notice the exhaustion still clinging to his features, the way his shoulders seem a little heavier, the way his eyes flicker with something unreadable. And yet, there’s also warmth there, something steady in the way he stays.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The quiet stretches, not uncomfortable, but thick with something unsaid.

You steal a glance at him, only to find him already looking at you. His lips part slightly like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

And you… Well, you don’t want this to end.

Your fingers curl slightly into the blanket as if you could somehow hold onto this moment, but before you can find the words, he beats you to it. Except—

“You—”

“I—”

You both stop, startled into a quiet laugh. Changbin exhales through his nose, shaking his head, and then—he gives up.

“I want to…” He hesitates just long enough for your breath to catch. But then, instead of finishing the thought, he turns to the nightstand, grabbing the pen from the forgotten clipboard.

The scratch of ink on paper is soft, deliberate.

And when he’s done, he tears the corner of the page and holds it out to you.

“Just… call me when you want someone to stay.”

He presses the slip of paper into your palm and steps back. Not far, just enough. Just enough to pretend like this is normal. Like this doesn’t feel like some invisible —red, perhaps— thread pulling tight between you.

Then he turns, heading for the door.

And even after the nurse steps in, after she greets you softly and pulls out a bundle of neatly folded clothes, Changbin lingers just outside. Not leaving. Not quite staying. Just there.

Seo exhales—long and slow, like it might clear the weight pressing down on his chest. It doesn’t.

He leans against the wall, arms crossed, fingers tapping restlessly against his bicep. He should go. He should be walking out of here, leaving this behind like any other rescue. That’s what he’s supposed to do. That’s what he always does.

But he doesn’t move.

Instead, his mind latches onto the way your fingers brushed his when you took the paper, and how you held his hand even asleep. The way your lips parted, like you wanted to say something but never did. 

His chest feels too tight.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He’s done his job. You’re safe. That should be enough.

But it’s not.

He lets his head thud lightly against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He shouldn’t be indulging in this. Not when he knows better. Not when he’s spent years keeping distance between himself and the people he saves. Not when he’s been told what happens when one gets too close, again and again by the other firefighters he works with. 

But it’s already too late, isn’t it?

Because you’re not just another person he pulled out of a fire. You’re the one who looked at him like you weren't afraid anymore. The one who made him laugh at two in the morning with dumb would-you-rather questions and stupid UNO strategies. The one who fell asleep on his shoulder like you trusted him.

And now, as he waits—just a few feet away, just out of sight—he can feel it. That quiet, aching part of him that already wants to go back inside. Just to see if you’re still there, even if he knows you are. Just to see if you’ll look at him one last time before you leave.

The hospital lobby is quiet at this hour, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the low murmur of the receptionist confirming details on a form. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a dull glow over everything, making the world outside the glass doors seem softer, almost unreal in contrast.

Changbin stands a few feet away, hands tucked in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He tells himself he’s just waiting. Just making sure everything is settled before he goes. But really, he knows that’s not it.

You’re focused on the papers in front of you, signing where the receptionist points, nodding along to instructions about rest, about medications, about things that should concern him far less than they do.

He should leave.

Really, he should.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifts to the reflection in the glass doors. He can see you there, the slight furrow of your brows as you concentrate, the way you lift a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s nothing. A simple, everyday motion. But for some reason, it tugs at something deep in his chest.

Changbin knows he shouldn’t linger.

Not just because of the hour or because his shift technically ended long ago—but because of what he is. A firefighter. His job is to step in when disaster strikes. To pull people from burning buildings, to keep them breathing, to make sure they see another day. But that’s all it should be. A duty. A moment in time. He’s not supposed to indulge in anything beyond that.

He’s not supposed to care like this.

And yet, he stands there, watching you in the reflection of the glass doors, fingers curling and uncurling in his pockets.

You don't look at him. Don’t seem to notice he’s still here. But maybe that’s how it should be. Because he shouldn’t be here still. 

You keep your eyes on the forms in front of you, pen poised but unmoving. You could look at him—just once, just for a second—but you don't. You can’t. 

Because if you do, you’ll see him watching you. You’ll see the way he lingers, the way he hesitates. And you’d know. You would know that whatever this is, it’s most likely not one-sided.

And that terrifies you, because it would be easier if it were. It would be easier if this was just gratitude, just the remnants of fear clinging to your bones. If you could shake this feeling off like soot after a fire.

But you can’t.

And you’re scared that if you reach for him, if you hold on too tight, he’ll slip through your fingers like smoke. So you keep your head down. Focus on the receptionist’s voice, on the weight of the pen in your hand, on anything but the man standing just a few feet away. If you look at him, you might do something reckless. 

Like ask him to stay.

Neither of you will know what the other one thinks, not as you scribble and nod to the receptionist in front of you, or as he exhales, slow and quiet, and turns toward the exit. Steps forward, each footfall feeling heavier than it should. Out into the night, away from whatever this was, full of a strange tightness in his chest and a sense of melancholy, driven only by his own thoughts.

Maybe it was just a moment, they both think, hoping it that way in a chance to make it easier to leave. Maybe it’s not something worth turning back for.

Still, something inside Changbin makes him look back, wondering if he should go inside again, until his phone rings. He picks it up, and quickly heads outside. 

The receptionist smiles at you, but then curses lowly, apologizing and telling you she needs to go print another document for you to sign. As she stands up and leaves, you look back. 

Changbin isn’t there anymore. 

Maybe it’s the receptionist, in that absentminded, routine way people have, that when she gets back and hands you the last document and casually says, “Sign here, and then you’re all set.”

All set.

It should be a good thing, shouldn’t it? You should want to leave. You do want to leave. But the words land too heavily in your chest, and for a split second, you forget how to move. How to write your own stupid signature. 

Because all set means it’s over. It means the space between you two is about to stretch too far, and suddenly, it feels like there’s not enough air in the room.

You grip the pen too tightly, signing. He looks inside the hospital one more time, and clenches his fists at his sides, leaving.

You don’t look at each other. Because if you do, you might not be able to let go.

You might be all set after exiting the hospital on your own.

But with the weight on your chest as you look up to the window of the room you’ve just been in, there’s a gnawing feeling in the back of your throat that makes you think—

things are far from over.

[♦️☆🔥☆♦️]

~kats, who’s brain did indeed rot and is now in love with firefighter binnie.

catiuskaa, april 2025 ©

ep 2 will be out in two weeks time! <3

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟐

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

Days had passed, and the tension between you and Chan grew unbearable.

You had tried contacting him, but he’d buried himself in his work, refusing to answer your calls or texts, and every attempt to approach him in person was met with cold indifference.

It was as if he had sealed himself off from you completely, and the guilt gnawed at your insides like a festering wound.

It wasn’t until one late evening, when you found yourself standing outside the studio again, that you realized something had to give. You couldn’t let things end like this - not over a misunderstanding, not when you cared about him so much.

When you loved him so much.

Pushing open the door, you saw him sitting at the same desk, headphones on, eyes glued to his laptop screen. The music played softly in the background, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.

You cleared your throat, and when he didn’t react, you took a deep breath and spoke.

"Chan, please. We need to talk."

For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you again, but then he pulled off his headphones and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were tired, and there were dark circles beneath them, evidence of sleepless nights.

"There’s nothing to talk about," he muttered, turning back to his screen.

“Please,” you said, your voice pleading. "Please."

He tensed, when he heard the hurt in your voice, and then sighed, pushing the chair back but not looking at you, his shoulders tense. He turned to you, his brown eyes tired and sad.

"I’m sorry," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. Afraid if you spoke any louder it might shatter.

“I didn’t realize how much you were carrying, and my words...I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t see everything you do. Because I do, baby. I see and appreciate everything."

He flinched at your words, but remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. You sniffed and wiped the tears you had so miserably failed to keep in. You missed him. Even if only for a few days it felt like eons.

“I know you’re the leader, and I know you have the weight of so much responsibility on your shoulders,” you continued, wiping your eyes, as more tears fell. “But you don’t have to do it all alone. You don’t always have to be strong. I can be strong for you too if you just ask.”

You hiccup, trying to control your shaky voice. "I want you to ask I don't want you to hurt anymore. Please...you can ask for help too. You don't always have to take everything on yourself. I only said what I said because I wanted to convey how upset I was seeing you tire yourself out, Chan-I...I don't want you to be tired anymore."

You were furiously wiping at your face, feeling like a child not able to properly convey their emotions.

“You don’t have to carry that burden by yourself. You’re not alone in this. The members, your fans, me...we’re all here for you. Please just ask us. We'll do anything for you.”

Chan's hands fidgeted in his lap. You felt the urge to run into his arms- you selfishly wanted to have him comfort you. When he was the one who needed comfort in this moment.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-" You weep. "I miss you, Channie...so much...I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I'm sorry. I really am..."

For the first time in days, his eyes met yours, and the raw emotion swirling within them took your breath away.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking, muffled by the sleeve of his sweater, which his face was buried in. “I’m scared that if I stop, everything will fall apart. That if I’m not there, something will go wrong, and it’ll be my fault. And that if I ask for help and things go wrong; you'll be to blame when you've done nothing wrong.” His voice was low and sad, and you could tell by the tightness of it he was trying to hold back tears as well.

Your heart ached as you listened to his confession, realizing just how much he had been hiding behind his calm exterior. How he took on stress to make sure any possible stressors wouldn't arise for those he loved and cared for.

"Oh, baby..."

He closed his eyes, his body trembling as the weight of his fears and insecurities finally crashed down around him.

He then looked up at your eyes that mirrored his own.

It seemed like the sadness in yours took his breath away too. Seemed like it shattered all the resolve he had left as he stood up and you launched himself into your arms, pulling him so close that your bodies would have melded together if possible.

You hiccupped out more sobs as you clung to him.

For a moment- a split second he wanted to remain angry, and he resisted -but then he collapsed against you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your shirt. His tears wetting it. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I never mean to do that baby, I'm sorry.”

You held him tighter, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “It’s okay. I promise.”

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding each other in the dimly lit studio as the walls between you slowly crumbled. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders was, you would always be there to help him carry it.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

The next morning, the air between you and Minho was still thick with tension. You had barely slept, and when you shuffled into the kitchen, you found him already there, making coffee in silence. He didn’t even look up when you entered the room.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. The weight of last night’s conversation hung between you like an invisible barrier, and every second that passed without him acknowledging you made the distance feel even greater.

He slid over a cup of coffee to you without as much as looking at you, and as you held the warm drink in your hands they began to tremble.

"Minho..." you began, your voice hesitant, unsure how to approach him. “Can we talk?” Your fingers tapped against the cup nervously.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his coffee, his throat working, and eyes fixed on the countertop. For a moment, you wondered if he would ignore you altogether, but then, without turning, he spoke.

“What exactly do you want to talk about?” His voice was flat, and that cold edge you feared had settled firmly in place.

You bit your lip, nervousness and guilt warring inside you. “What I said last night...it came out wrong. I didn’t mean-”

“You think I’m cold,” he interrupted, finally turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the hurt in the brown eyes you loved so much was impossible to miss. “It’s fine. I get it. I’ve heard it before. Its nothing to take to heart.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “No, you don’t get it. I don’t think you’re cold. I know you’re not.” Your fingers gripped the cup to the point your hands were hot, and you set the cup down so you wouldn't drop it.

Minho bit his lip now. “Really? Because that’s not what it sounded like last night.”

You took another step toward him, your heart aching at how distant he felt, even when you were standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn't mean it al all.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not about what you said,” he muttered, his voice low as he looked at his coffee. “It’s about the fact that...maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s all people see when they look at me. Thats all they ever say so when you said it- the person I love most in this world...it made it feel...true.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the vulnerability in his voice - the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as something he wasn’t. Because he truly wasn't.

And suddenly, you understood how deeply your careless words had cut him.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his arm. This time, he didn’t pull away, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor. He set his coffee down as you searched for words to say.

“Love, look at me,” you said softly, your voice trembling. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Something sparking when he saw the shine in yours.

“You’re not cold,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “You're - not cold at all." You swallowed the knot trying to form. "You’re kind. You’re thoughtful. You care about the people around you more than anyone realizes. And maybe you don’t always show it in the way people expect, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I see it. All the time.” The knot was relentless and made a home there, your voice breaking slightly.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if your words were getting through. But then, slowly, his shoulders slumped, and the tension seemed to drain out of him. He allowed you to hold his hands.

“It’s just...hard sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I'm not cold I just...aren't feelings a precious thing? I don't know how to not be the way I am. It feels normal to be 'serious' and 'cold' like people say. I don't feel that way. I feel loved and loving. I just don't show it off in...big ways...” He swallowed. "Maybe that makes me mean and cold."

Your heart broke at his confession. You had always known Minho to be one who kept his emotions in check, one who always seemed to have everything under control. But now, standing in front of you, he seemed so vulnerable, so...human. Which you had always seen him as.

“You’re not mean or cold,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You pursed your lips to keep yourself from crying, but it didn't work. “You’re human. It's okay to have different ways of showing emotions and letting people in. I'm sorry I made you feel that way.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble. “I forgive you, lovely. I was just being petty...I’m sorry I shut you out,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “I just...didn’t know how to deal with it. I don't want you to ever see me that way.”

You pouted, you bottom lip jutting out as you cried silently, your brows furrowed to try to stop yourself mid cry.

For the first time since last night, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips and Minho chuckled quietly. He moved his thumb to your lip and looked at you.

"It's going to get stuck that way, Darling." He kissed them and then pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he rested his chin on top of your head, rubbing circles on your back gently as you sniffled into his chest.

“It's okay my love,” he promised softly. “I’m sorry I scared you by ignoring you.” He said guessing the exact reason why you were crying. "Shh, it's okay. It's all going to be okay..." He cooed softly as he rocked you back in forth. "I love you. So much. I love you." He placed a soft kiss on your head, and you buried into him further earning a laugh.

In that moment, everything felt right again. The weight of the misunderstanding lifted, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet understanding that, no matter how sharp his edges, you would always find a way to soften them.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

The next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. Changbin hadn’t come out of the bedroom since last night, and you had spent the night tossing and turning on the couch, unable to shake the guilt that weighed heavily on your chest.

You knew you had hurt him, but what made it worse was that you hadn’t even realized how deep his insecurities ran. Changbin was always so strong, so confident - but now, you saw the cracks in the armor he wore every day. And it hurt you that you had hurt him.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage before walking to the bedroom door. You knocked softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Changbin?” you called out quietly. “Can I come in?”

There was a long pause before you heard him say, “Come in.”

When you opened the door, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He didn’t look up when you entered, and the sight of him like that broke your heart all over again.

You sat down beside him the bed dipping, close but not touching, waiting for him to speak first since it seemed all the words left your mind.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry for last night,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I overreacted.” His voice was sad and quiet and you felt the power of the initial guilt amplify tenfold.

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill making it hard to speak. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do, Binnie, please believe me.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, still not looking at you. “It’s not your fault. I just...I’ve always felt like I have to prove myself, and becoming an idol made that even harder, you know? Like I have to be the best since everyone is watching now. And when you said that...it just hit me in the worst way. Because it's you.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “You’ve always been hard on yourself.”

Changbin let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, maybe too hard. But I don’t know how to be any other way. I feel like if I stop, if I’m not constantly pushing myself, then...I’ll lose everything. I tried so hard to get.” His eyes met yours.

Your chest tightened at his words. You knew how much he put into his work, how much he cared about being successful, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the fear and vulnerability in his voice - it was almost too much to bear.

“You won’t lose anything, let alone me.” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. You had noticed the look in his eyes and wanted him to be assured that you would never leave him. “You’re already so much more than enough, baby. You’re talented, hardworking, and you care so much about everyone around you. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Especially not me. Or the guys. Or your family. We all see how much you put in everything.”

He finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “Sometimes, it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And when you said what you did...it felt like you were confirming it. And you're the...last person I would want to hear the from.” His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he put his forearm to his eyes. "Damn, I didn't want to cry." He mumbled. "Give me a second."

You squeezed his hand and waited for him to collect himself. Once he did you spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I never wanted to hurt you. You mean so much to me, and I think you’re incredible just the way you are. More than I deserve, BinBin. Truly.”

Changbin’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. “I know you didn’t mean it. I was just...in my head. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a while.”

He let out a long breath, the weight of his insecurities finally surfacing. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially you.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You could never disappoint me, Changbin. I love you for who you are, not for how hard you work or how much you achieve. You’re enough, just as you are.” You look into his eyes. "You may not be perfect, but everything about you is perfect to me."

His eyes shined, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to break. But instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. You held him close, feeling his body relax against yours as the tension finally melted away.

“I’m sorry I shut you out,” he whispered against your neck. “I just didn’t know how to handle it.” His lips brushed against it softly and you felt a warmth wash over you.

You pressed a kiss to his temple just as gently, your heart swelling with love for him. “It’s okay. I'm sorry as well.”

Changbin pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I'm going to talk to you more about this stuff. I don’t want to keep shutting you out.” He kissed you again, but this time on your lips, and you felt a wetness.

You smiled softly, brushing away stray tears from his cheeks and lips. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. And I mean always baby.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss, as if sealing the promise between you. Then moving into a slow and lazy kisses as he pulled you down onto the bed with him.

You stayed there, cuddled together and kissing until the early afternoon, everything just as perfect as the man beside you.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

The hours dragged on painfully after Hyunjin had left you standing in the kitchen. The apartment felt too big, too empty without him, and your mind kept replaying the argument over and over again, picking apart every word you had said, every hurtful implication that had slipped out.

You hadn’t meant to wound him. Whenever you had wounded him, you never did it intentionally. You loved him too much to do that.

You had only wanted to comfort him; to let him know he didn’t have to bear the weight of perfection like he thought he had to. You didn't want him to continue working himself to the bone; making himself tired trying to fit a mold that others wanted to fit him into. But instead, you had used your words to unintentionally cut deeper into the very insecurities he worked so hard to keep hidden.

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft sound of the bedroom door opening. Hyunjin stepped out, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that broke your heart all over again.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his voice so small it made your chest tighten with guilt.

You nodded quickly, standing up from the couch. “Of course. Of course.”

He walked over to you, sitting down on the couch beside you, though there was still a noticeable space between you. Hyunjin seemed hesitant, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his oversized sweater. He then laid his head into your lap. You hesitantly threaded your fingers through his hair, until he leaned into your touch, letting you do it freely. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotions.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he began, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I was...I was scared.”

You blinked, surprised by his confession, your hand pausing. “Scared? Of what?”

Hyunjin swallowed hard, his eyes half lidded as he spoke. “Scared that you see me the same way I see myself. Flawed. Not good enough. I’ve always had this fear...this feeling like I’ll never be able to live up to the version of me that people expect. And when you said what you did, I thought...I thought it was proof that even you felt that way. And I don't want you to feel like that about me. At all.” He whined quietly.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you listened to him. You had known Hyunjin struggled with self-doubt- struggled with the fact that people only saw him as a pretty face- a perfect face, but hearing him lay it all out like this, so raw and vulnerable, made your heart ache for him.

“I would never think that,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand with your free one. “You’re everything to me, Hyunjin. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, or your weren't fitting the mold others want you to fit. I only said what I did because I hate seeing you push yourself so hard. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to see yourself as flawed. We all are- but how is that any different. I love you. I don't want you to be perfect- I want you to be you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with so much pain that it made your breath catch in your throat. “But what if I’m not good enough as me?”

Your heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and you squeezed his hand tighter, shaking your head, swallowing. “You are more than good enough, Hyunjin. You are so talented, so kind, and you work harder than anyone I’ve ever known. You don’t have to be perfect. Again, I love you for who you are, not who you think you should be.”

Hyunjin’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, it looked like he might start crying again. But instead, he sat up, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away.”

You held him just as tightly, your own tears falling freely now. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don't have to apologize Jinnie...”

For a long time, the two of you sat there in each other’s arms, the weight of the argument finally starting to lift. Hyunjin’s breathing eventually steadied, and you could feel the tension slowly draining from his body as he relaxed into your embrace.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still red, but there was a softness in them now, a peace that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I’ll try to be better,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try not to let my insecurities get the best of me.”

You smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I'll try to be better with my words as well. We’ll work through our issues together. You don’t have to do this alone.” You touched his cheek and smiled.

Hyunjin nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He kissed you gently. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much sincerity that it made your heart swell.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your hands gently cupping his face. “More than anything.”

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@redstayrosie @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @courtnort455

@modesttiger @night-storm7 @ka0ila

@loveyouamory

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

[wynn-43]

then do it

seo changbin x gn! nursing student! reader wc: 1427 warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive (maybe?), medical stuff, in depth explanations of measuring vital signs, soft, kisses, pet names, not fully proof read a/n: does this count as studying...?

“Bin! You need to stay still.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter.

“It feels weird!” He giggles, trying to evade you.

“I’ll give you as many kisses as you want, just stay still for 5 minutes.” You plead, gently patting his shoulder.

He turns to you, eyes wide with hope before nodding and sitting still.

“Okay, first I need to check your temperature, this will feel weird.” You murmur, brow furrowed in concentration.

You gently pull back on the outer edge of his ear before you gently slide the tip of the thermometer in, angling it towards his ear canal, until you feel it in place.

You click the button, waiting for the reading.

“36.8! Perfect.” You pat his shoulder as you remove the thermometer, ejecting the cover into the bin nearby.

You quickly mark the reading down in your chart before grabbing the pulse oximeter.

“Can I please have your hand?” You ask as you turn the pulse oximeter on.

He holds his hand towards you, staring up at you with an expression you can’t fully place.

You gently hold his pointer finger, making sure to support the rest of his hand. You gently rub his finger, ensuring that it was warm enough for the pulse oximeter to recognise it.

“Okay, I’m going to put this on your finger to measure your oxygen saturation.” You murmur, eyes focused on the pulse oximeter as you place it on his finger.

It beeps quickly, showing a perfect reading of 100.

“Wonderful.” You murmur, removing the pulse oximeter and putting it away as you mark the reading in your chart.

“Now, I have to measure your blood pressure. This is going to wrap tightly around your arm, let me know if it’s too tight or hurts at all.” You explain as you wrap the velcro around his toned bicep.

“Is it too tight?” You ask, patting his arm and taking the opportunity to feel his muscles.

“Nope, it’s perfect.” He murmurs as he looks up at you, that unreadable expression once again evident in his eyes.

You nod, slipping the dial into the loop on the side and arrange the pump to be in a position where you could easily release the air.

First, you get an approximation of his systolic blood pressure. You slip a pillow under his elbow, ensuring his arm was supported before you began to palpate his wrist, feeling for his radial pulse.

Once you feel the thump of his heart rate, your eyes lock onto the dial and you slowly begin squeezing the pump.

You squeeze until 40, pausing to check if you still feel the pulse. You then increase to 80, pausing again. Then, once you reach 100 you notice the thumping of his pulse has stopped. You quickly release the pressure, reaching for your stethoscope as you drop the pump.

“You okay?” You ask, checking in with him as you begin to palpate his elbow in search of his brachial pulse.

He nods and soon after you find his pulse.

“Wonderful.” You murmur as you put the earpieces of your stethoscope into your ear.

You twist the end, making sure it’s on before placing your fingers on either side of the diaphragm.

You gently place the chest piece on where you found his brachial pulse before you grab the pump.

You turn the valve, ensuring that it was turned properly.

You then start squeezing again, adding 30 to the approximation of his systolic blood pressure until the dial reaches 130.

You then turn the valve slightly, letting the pressure reduce slowly.

You keep your eyes fixated on the dial, quietly listening for the telltale thumping.

You hear the first Korotkoff phase at exactly 120, a sharp and clear tap that indicates systolic blood pressure.

With your eyes remaining focused on the dial focusing on the loud thumps, you notice the distinctive swishing sound of the second Korotkoff sound at around 110.

As you near 100, the thumping softens, still audible, but quiet. As you near 90, it quietens further, turning into a muffled tapping. Then, once you reach 80, there’s silence.

You remove your stethoscope, turning the valve fully to quickly release the air.

“Your blood pressure was perfect!” You beam as you remove the cuff from his arm.

You quickly turn, writing “120” in one row and “80” in the other, before drawing a dotted line between the two.

“Okay, finally. I need to measure your pulse.” You murmur, gently moving his hand so it was resting in his lap, palm side up.

You gently palpate his wrist, once again feeling for his radial pulse.

Upon finding it, you look at the fob watch attached to your shirt.

You start counting each heartbeat, carefully watching the time to make sure you counted for a minute.

Once the minute is over, you quickly write down ‘85’ before turning back to him.

“Okay, I’m just going to double-check.” You lie, trying not to smile as he nods.

You positioned yourself so you could see both your watch and his chest. You return your fingers to his wrist, pretending to measure his pulse again.

In reality, you were checking his breathing rate.

As the seconds ticked by, you watched the rise and fall of his chest, counting each slow movement.

“Okay, wonderful. Your pulse was 85, which is a little high for you, considering you’re fit, but it;s still within normal range.” You tell him as you lean down to write 14 in the ‘breathes per minute’ section of your chart.

“I also was not checking again, I was measuring your breathing rate.” You giggle as you turn back to him.

His eyes widened, surprised at your admission.

“You lied to me!” He exclaims playfully as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap and pressing ticklish kisses to your face and neck.

“I had to! If you knew, your breathing rate would’ve changed.” You breathlessly exclaim between giggles.

“Okay, I guess that's reasonable.” He says, finally stopping with his kisses.

You looked down at him, breathless from your laughter. 

“You’re adorable, you know.” You murmur, your voice soft as you gently run your thumbs along his cheeks.

“No you.” He murmured, gently squeezing your hips.

“You looked so pretty, all focused and serious.” He whispered, eyes locked on yours. “It was taking everything in me not to attack you with kisses.” 

You smile, internally melting at his soft admission, before you wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his soft wavy hair.

“Is that why your heart rate was high?” You ask, grinning as he blushed.

“Maybe…” He whispered, looking to the side with a shy smile.

“Do I make you nervous baby?” You murmur, your grin widening as you notice his blush deepen.

He groans as he buries his face in your neck, making you erupt into a fit of giggles.

You sit like this for a moment, him hiding in your neck as your giggles faded.

“Binnie, baby. Look at me.” You murmur, gently running your nails across his scalp.

He slowly pulls his face out from the safety of your neck, his cheeks still flushed slightly pink as you smile at him.

“I love you so much.” You murmur and your heart softens when you notice his eyes brighten at your words.

“I love you too.” He giggles as you start pressing soft kisses to his face.

You press soft kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose and his jaw- before leaning back to look at his beautiful face.

But when you do, you suddenly erupt into laughter, confusing your poor boyfriend.

“I forgot I had lipstick on!” You exclaim breathlessly as you look at the soft red smudges that now littered his face.

“Yah!” He exclaims before his eyes widen and he rushes to grab his phone. “You attacked me!”

You erupt into giggles at his dramatism as he opens his phone, examining himself in the camera.

“Wait… why do I look kinda hot?” He whispered, voice quiet.

“You look very hot, baby.” You murmur as you press more kisses to his cheeks, which were now flushed a soft pink.

He lets out a shaky breath, dropping his phone to the side. He pulls you closer, his hands resting firmly on your sides.

“You’re making it so hard not to kiss you right now.” He murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion.

You smile, leaning in and brushing your nose against his.

“Then do it.” You whisper.

This is a work of fiction, based entirely on my personal perception of him, and does not reflect his actual character or actions.

[linoxpudding]

Falling For You

summary: based on the promt "you walk in, and my heart beats differently." – when his best friend unknowingly makes his heart race, he realizes it’s love, leading to a heartfelt confession that changes everything

pairing: skz x reader

genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers

a/n: oh to be confessed like this, based on this cute request ♡

*all the images are collected from pinterest, I tried to add pics that capture the vibe*

Masterlist

~°~

Bang Chan

You walk into Chan’s studio, balancing a takeout bag and two cups of coffee. It was already late at night. He looks up from his laptop, exhaustion written all over his face - until he sees you.

"You brought me food?" he asks, eyes softening.

You set it down on the small coffee table in the room. "You work too much." You can tell he’s been glued to his work all night.

Chan lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well…" He exhales, watching as you take his wrist and pull him up from the chair, leading him to the couch to sit beside him. Your legs brush as you begin unpacking the food containers.

For a while, the only sounds are the faint hum of the studio equipment and the soft rustling of food being opened. Chan watches you, the weariness in his eyes slowly fading as he takes in the sight of you sitting there, your presence grounding him in a way nothing else can.

Then, almost absentmindedly, he murmurs, "You walk in, and my heart beats differently."

You freeze, your heart skipping at his words. "What?" You blink, unsure if you heard him right.

His eyes flick to yours, realizing what he just said out loud. But instead of backtracking, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I mean it," he says. "It doesn’t matter how tired I am - whenever you’re here, suddenly, everything feels… better."

You swallow, warmth blooming in your chest. "Chan…"

He smiles, tilting his head. "Tell me I’m not crazy."

Your smile is soft, tender, as you lean forward a little. "You’re not crazy," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I feel the same way."

Chan exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He smiles, a little shy, but there’s something calming in his eyes, a quiet relief in knowing that what he’d felt, what he’d tried to keep to himself, wasn’t just a one-sided thing.

Then, with a soft chuckle, he reaches out, squeezing your hand. "Good," he says. "Because I don’t think I can keep pretending anymore."

Lee Know

You were at Minho's apartment, playing with Soonie, Dongie and Dori.

Minho leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you giggle as Dori climbs onto your lap. His cats are obsessed with you, and honestly? He doesn’t blame them. There was a certain comfort in watching you interact with his cats, and he found himself smiling, despite his best efforts not to.

"You guys are such traitors," he mutters.

You glance up, amused. "Because they love me more?"

He clicks his tongue, looking away. "My heart has an annoying habit of skipping when you’re around," he mumbles under his breath.

You blink. "What?"

Minho exhales, rubbing his temples. "Nothing."

You stand, stepping closer. "Minho..."

He finally looks at you, eyes searching. Then, in a moment of rare vulnerability, he murmurs, "I think you stole my heart the same way you stole theirs."

Your lips part in surprise.

"So you better take care of it," he adds, smirking - but there’s something nervous in his gaze.

You grin, reaching for his hand. "Guess that means you have to take care of mine too, then."

His smirk softens, and for once, he doesn’t hide. He stepped closer, leaning down, and as he did, you closed the distance, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

Just as the kiss deepened, Dori meowed, rubbing against Minho’s legs. You pulled away, laughing softly.

"Of course," Minho muttered, letting out a sigh.

You grinned. "Guess we’ll finish this later."

He smiled, not letting go of your hand. "I’m counting on it."

As the evening passed, you both stole a few more kisses, the cats weaving around you both. This felt right, and you both knew this was just the beginning of something that was always meant to be.

Seo Changbin

It was one of your regular hangouts at his place. After catching up and playing some board games, you sat on the couch, cradling a warm cup of soothing lemon tea, when you burst into laughter at another one of Changbin's jokes.

You’re doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach as Changbin wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye.

"That..." you gasp between laughs. "That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard."

He grins. "And yet, you’re laughing."

You swat at his arm, still breathless. "I can’t help it. Your dumb jokes always get me."

Changbin watches you, his chest tightening in a way that’s almost painful. He’s always been strong and always carried himself with confidence, but with you? He’s just a guy who falls harder every day.

Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "You walk in, and my heart beats differently. Like it just ran a marathon."

The words hang between you, soft yet heavy.

His ears immediately turn red, and he scrambles to cover it up, flexing his arms. "I mean, obviously, you make my heart race because I work out, and adrenaline -"

"Changbin."

He freezes. "Huh?"

You’re staring at him, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips.

"Just admit it," you tease gently. "No excuses this time."

He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine." His voice is quieter now, more certain. "I like you, alright? A lot."

Something warm spreads through your chest. "Good," you murmur, scooting closer. "Because I like you too."

His eyes widen slightly before his lips curve into that soft, downturned smile you love so much. "Really?"

"Really."

And just like that, the tension shifts into something lighter, something new.

Changbin lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Man, I was so ready to play that off."

You laugh, nudging him. "Yeah, well, I’m glad you didn’t."

He grins. "Me too."

And when he pulls you into a warm, crushing hug, neither of you feel like letting go anytime soon.

Hwang Hyunjin

It was another wine and paint evening with your best friend, Hyunjin. The room smelled like fresh paint and sweet red wine, soft music playing in the background as the two of you settled into your usual spot - his cozy living room.

You were laughing over some silly comment Hyunjin made about your attempt at painting, the wine giving you a bit more courage than usual. But as you glanced at him, something was different. His usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced with an almost unreadable expression, as if he were lost in thought.

"You’re staring," you teased, nudging his shoulder.

He blinked, snapping out of his daze. His lips tugged into a soft smile, but there was something deeper behind his eyes, something he wasn’t quite saying. He set his brush down slowly, his hands shaking just a little.

"Yeah," he whispered, eyes not leaving yours. "I guess I am."

You chuckled, confused but amused. "You okay there, Hyunjin?"

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze intense now, almost as if he were seeing you in a completely new light. Then, in a soft but steady voice, he said, "You walk in, and my heart beats differently."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you froze. The moment felt like it stretched on forever. The playful, carefree energy you both usually shared suddenly felt like it had shifted into something entirely new.

Hyunjin’s eyes softened as he continued, his voice a little shakier now. "I’ve always thought you were amazing, but... lately, when I’m with you, everything just feels different. My heart races, and it’s like nothing else matters. You’re more than just my best friend."

His words hung in the air, and your mind spun. You had always known there was something special between you, but hearing it out loud from Hyunjin’s lips made it all feel so much more real, so much more intense.

You set your brush down, staring at him for a moment, trying to process what he just said. "Hyunjin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you saying what I think you’re saying?"

He smiled, a little shy now, the vulnerability in his eyes evident. "I think I am. I like you, more than just as a friend."

Your heart raced, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. There was something so beautiful in the way he looked at you.

You swallowed, your voice thick with emotion. "I like you too. A lot more than I should."

Hyunjin’s eyes softened even further, and before you knew it, he leaned in, his lips gently brushing against your lips in a tender, intimate kiss that made your heart race. You kissed him back with just as much eagerness. When you both pulled away, he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your lips.

"I’m glad," he murmured. "I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while."

And as you both sat there, surrounded by the soft glow of the room and the quiet hum of the music, you realized that everything had changed. But, in that moment, it felt like it was just the beginning of something even more beautiful.

Han Jisung

The arcade is alive with flashing lights and the sound of beeping machines as you and Jisung race through the games, each of you determined to outdo the other. You’ve been at it for hours, laughing and joking, each challenge bringing out the competitive side in both of you.

Jisung throws his hands up in the air in mock frustration, his usual playful energy bubbling up. “That’s IT. I refuse to lose to you again!” he declares, eyes wide with dramatic flair.

You burst out laughing, holding up the plushie you won from the claw machine, the prize dangling from your hand as a reminder of your win. “Face it, Han, I’m just better.”

He groans dramatically, acting like the weight of defeat is too much for him to bear. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, but as you turn to leave the game station, you catch a glimpse of his face - his usual smirk has faded into something far softer. He stops mid-motion, staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in a different way.

“Jisung?” you ask, your voice a little quieter, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “You okay?”

He swallows, his expression shifting from amused to something more nervous. He glances down for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts before looking at you again. His words are almost a whisper, but the arcade’s lively hum suddenly seems to fade into the background. “My heart trips over itself whenever you’re near.”

Your breath catches. You freeze, unsure if you heard him right. “What?”

Jisung’s eyes widen in panic, his face flushing a deep red. “Oh my God, I did not mean to say that out loud-”

Before he can retreat into his usual nervous ramble, you reach out, grabbing his wrist gently, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to hold back your laughter. “No, no, don’t take it back,” you say, your voice teasing but soft.

He stops, blinking in surprise at you, unsure how to respond. “Why not?” he asks, the vulnerability in his eyes clear now, as if waiting for your reaction.

You grin, stepping a little closer to him. “Because mine does the same thing,” you whisper, quieter now, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you as you realize what you just admitted.

His jaw drops, his expression flickering between disbelief and sheer happiness. For a moment, neither of you says anything. Then, slowly, that trademark Jisung smile - bright, wide, and utterly infectious - spreads across his face.

He takes a step closer, his hand brushing yours with the same ease he’s always had, but now, it feels like it means something more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he admits, his tone soft but full of sincerity. You can’t help the way your heart skips at his words.

“Well,” you reply, your voice playful but tender, “I guess we’ve both been a little slow to catch on.”

Jisung grins, the familiar mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. “Maybe, but we’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

You nod, your chest full of warmth as you both stand there, the arcade noise fades into the background, and in this moment, it's just the two of you - in your own little world.

Lee Felix

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to take a late-night walk under the star-filled sky. Felix had texted you earlier, saying he was picking you up for a walk, claiming he missed his best friend.

The streets are quiet, the world almost still, as you walk side by side with Felix. The cool night air brushes against your skin, and the distant hum of the city seems far away, leaving only the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

"You ever think about home?" Felix asks suddenly, his voice soft, carrying a hint of something deeper, something you can’t quite place.

You glance at him, surprised by the question. "Yeah, sometimes. Why?"

He exhales, his breath visible in the crisp air, and then looks up at the stars. "I think… being near you feels like home."

You pause, your heart skipping a beat as his words settle in. You stop walking, a gentle tension filling the space between you, the silence hanging heavy with unspoken emotions. Felix, sensing the change, looks at you, his expression both soft and vulnerable.

"Felix...." you begin, but you can’t seem to find the words to express the warmth blooming in your chest.

Before you can say more, his fingers brush yours. The contact sends a spark through you, igniting something that’s been simmering quietly beneath the surface. He turns to face you, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

"You walk in, and my heart beats differently," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I’ve loved you for a long time."

His eyes are wide, searching, hoping for a response. Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve known this feeling for a while, but hearing it from him makes it real. You smile, the warmth in your chest spreading to your cheeks as you step closer, intertwining your fingers with his.

"You are my home," you reply softly, your voice steady but full of meaning.

It felt freeing, finally having the courage to say this to him. Felix’s breath hitches, his eyes wide with surprise, and then, without another word, he pulls you into a hug. It’s warm, enveloping, the kind of hug that feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

His arms tighten around you, and for a moment, you both just stand there, the world continuing to spin, but in that moment, it’s just you two - safe, together, and home.

As you pull back slightly, still holding him close, he smiles, his usual energy mixing with a softness you’ve never seen before. "I’m glad you feel the same," he says, a shy grin tugging at his lips.

With your hand still in his, you resume your walk, the night sky above you and the quiet comfort of each other’s company wrapping around you like a blanket. You don’t need to say anything more - because in that moment, you both know. You’ve found home.

Kim Seungmin

The movie night had started like any other - just the two of you curled up on the couch, a pile of snacks between you, laughing at the screen. But somewhere along the way, you’d drifted off, your head resting against Seungmin’s chest, your body curled into his side.

Seungmin sighs as he looks down at you, the soft glow of the TV casting gentle shadows across your face. The movie is still playing, but he’s barely paying attention anymore.

You’re so unfair.

You always fall asleep like this - so trusting, so comfortable, so close. And each time, it gets harder for him to pretend that he doesn’t want more.

He hesitates for a second, then, thinking you’re already deep asleep, he finally lets the words slip.

"Everything feels right when you’re here," he murmurs. His hand, which had been resting lightly on your back, stills. "I don’t know when it started, but… I don’t think I just see you as my best friend anymore." His voice is softer now, more vulnerable than he’d ever let it be if you were awake. "Like whenever you walk in, my heart beats differently."

His sighs and continues saying, "and if I had any sense, I’d probably keep this to myself."

"But you don’t," you whisper.

Seungmin freezes.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his. A small, knowing smile plays on your lips.

"You weren’t sleeping," he accuses, ears turning bright red.

You shake your head, grinning. "Nope."

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again - but no words come out. His mind is racing, trying to figure out what to say, how to backtrack, but you don’t give him the chance.

Instead, before he can overthink it, you cup his face and press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Seungmin completely short-circuits.

His body tenses for half a second before melting into you, his hands gripping your waist like he can’t believe this is real. When you finally pull back, his wide eyes search yours, completely breathless.

"You- what- why—" he stammers, ears burning.

You laugh, leaning your forehead against his. "Because I feel the same way, idiot."

His lips part, processing your words, before the softest, happiest chuckle escapes him.

"You’re really unfair," he mumbles, his arms tightening around you.

"You love it," you tease.

And with a shy, utterly smitten smile, he whispers, "Yeah. I really do."

He rests his forehead against yours, the movie now just a distant hum in the background, both of you lost in the warmth of each other, and neither of you can stop smiling.

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin had planned this. Every little detail. The amusement park, the endless laughter, the way he let you win at a few games (but only a few), and now - this. The Ferris wheel. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

He’d been waiting for the right moment, but as he watches you take in the view, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, he realizes - there is no right moment. There’s just you. And that’s always been enough.

The Ferris wheel sways gently as it stops at the very top, the city stretching below in a sea of twinkling lights. You and Jeongin sit side by side, legs dangling, the warmth of the evening still lingering in the air.

"Wow," you murmur, gazing out at the skyline. "It’s beautiful from up here.

Jeongin hums in agreement, but his eyes aren’t on the view. They’re on you.

When you turn to face him, you catch the way he’s looking at you - soft, thoughtful, like he’s trying to memorize this exact moment.

"What?" you ask, tilting your head.

He chuckles, shaking his head. Then, exhaling softly, he gathers his courage. "You walk in, and my heart beats differently."

The amusement park noise fades into the background. Your breath catches. "Jeongin…?"

He swallows, nervous but determined. "I wanted today to be special because I wanted to tell you that, I like you. A lot. And… I don’t want this to just be another one of our hangouts." His fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeve. "I was kinda hoping it could be our first date instead."

Your heart races, warmth blooming in your chest. "You planned all this… for me?"

"Of course," he admits, a little shyly. "You make everything better just by being there. And when you’re near, everything slows down."

A slow smile spreads across your face. "Then… let’s make it official."

And before he can say anything else, you close the distance, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek.

Jeongin freezes, eyes wide, ears turning bright red. "W-Wait....does that-does that mean"

You chuckle, "yes, dummy. It means yes."

Jeongin exhales, a mixture of relief and something softer, something new. And then, with the Ferris wheel carrying you both gently forward, he reaches for your hand, fingers hesitantly brushing against yours.

This time, you don’t hesitate. You intertwine them, letting the world slow down just a little more.

[soobnny]

dating him | seo changbin

❝ everyone pay attention…. i love my girlfriend ❞

chan | lee know | CHANGBIN | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

okay hear me out

hear me out …..

seo changbin biggest kisser 🙁🙁🙁

i can just imagine him kissing u all the time

every chance he gets

forehead, chin, neck, cheeks, forehead, lips, WHEREVER.

nowhere is safe

he just thinks u are so beautiful

also just a hunch but he probably is a big thigh kisser i feel like he loves thighs !!!!!

have fun thinking about that

changbin is giving me best friends to lovers type beat

either that or strangers to lovers with a miscommunication twist

picture him accidentally getting ur food order cos u got the exact same thing

and the waiter’s like .. “are u (name)?”

he’s confused at first bc huh no i’m changbin

and then u come over

AND NOW HE IS SO EMBARRASSED

this is embarrassing

this had to happen to him in front of a pretty girl … you … why

that’s the beginning of ur love story

wait i just suddenly thought of something

OK SO here’s an alternative meet cute

you

well…

you can’t park for the life of u

and he’s next in line to u

so he helps u 😭😭😭

like gets out of his car and parks it for u

u offer coffee as thank you

who was he to say no

ANYWAYS fast forward to the present

i feel like ur dates are either dinner cruises or dollar dates

like either extremely expensive

or cute, fun, and cheap

it depends on his mood or the event

he loves spoiling u tho

mention one thing u want and he probably already bought it for u

he just knows u that well

either that or he’s rushing to buy it immediately

OKAY NOW

here are some of the things he does for u

changbin special #1 —> opens all ur jars for u

having a hard time opening ur bottle of water? no worries

changbin to the rescue

want a pickle out of that jar? he’s already grabbing it and opening it for u

u will never touch a jar in ur life anymore

changbin special #2 —> shares his food w u

i feel like food can be one of his love languages

he just wants to be sure u’re eating well and good when you’re with him

PLUS i just watched their interview where the members say he doesn’t share

but with you he does ok !!!!! with u he does

he’d share anything with u 🥹🥹🥹🥹

changbin special #3 —> “saw this and thought of u” text messages

and it’s the cutest things ever

or the most random things

no in between

it’s a coin on the floor or a little squirrel

speaking of texts

he’s the type to spam u with cute messages and emojis

i miss you baby 🥰🥰🥰💗💓💝💘💖💕💕🩷❤️❤️💞💓💞💗💕💘💝💝💖😍😘😘😘🥰😍🥰🥵

changbin special #4 —> piggyback rides

u will never ever have to worry about being tired bc changbin is there to the rescue

he loves it too bc he gets to have u close and he can also hold ur thighs

changbin thigh obsession agenda

he loves running with u behind him

honestly i can def see him as playful at times

but not too fast

he couldn’t risk making u fall

one time it happened and he doesn’t think he could ever forgive himself after seeing the TINIEST scar on ur knee

cleans it up for you and everything

moving on

now here are some of his favorite things to do WITH you

he loves when u guys r just chilling and he has u on his lap

if he could, he would keep u there 24/7

would be the type to pull u on his lap during movie night with the boys

EVEN THO THE COUCH ISN’T EVEN FULL

cue playful vomit noises by the boys

he couldn’t care less

at the end of the day, it’s HIM who has YOU on his LAP

so who’s rly winning

he also loves doing chores to ur favorite songs

mini dance breaks in between

he’d use the broom as his mic

now you have a personal concert from the boy

loves doing girly pop songs

yes he’s singing that boy is mine by ariana grande

yes he’s also doing the tiktok choreography

and YES HE’S ABSOLUTELY EATING IT UP

yes btw, he would film tiktoks with u

you’d send him a like and he’s just down every single time

you’d even catch him trying to memorize the choreo on his free time

u know that yeah glo tiktok .. yup he’s rapping

just ANYTHING with u

and ofc how could i ever leave out gym dates

the first time u accepted to go to the gym with him, he was convinced he could die right there

he would die a happy man

he’s happy u’re sharing his passion w him

(even more if u aren’t rly a gym person before him so he appreciates it even more)

HEART EYES when he sees u in ur gym fit

buys u everything

all the outfits and whatever u need

becomes protective at the gym

but he does everything for u

cleans the equipment before u use it

spots for u and things like that

anything for u

princess treatment fr

side eye at the guys looking at u

u would suddenly feel a figure behind u

don’t worry, it’s just changbin trying to show everyone that he’s the lucky guy that got u

he’s quite ltrly ur watermark

he also loves that cliche push up thing where u’re underneath him and he kisses u everytime he goes down

oh did i tell u he has one of those ‘i ❤️ my gf” shirts

and he LOVES wearing them in public

he’s so cheeky with it

hmmmmm what else

OH he rly enjoys making silly faces at each other from across the room

he always makes u laugh

and smthn i see happening is him trying to do legos with u but he rage quits

changbin also gives me healthy communicator

but like

u have to give him a bit of space first

he can get angry so the moment he does, he asks u for a moment

cos i feel that he’s easy to upset

when he’s sure he won’t take it out on u

and when he’s sure he’s a bit more level headed

he’ll ask if u two can finally talk abt it

good job changbin

anyways

at the end of the day

the boys are sick of u two

they know everything about u

PLUS he always has a stupid smile on his face whenever he talks about u

I LOVE LOVE !!!!!

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[baby-yongbok]

Confession - Seo Changbin x afab!Reader

Genre - Fluff WC - 1.4k A/N - Day 3 of my Binnie Birthday Week Posts

✧ Masterlist ✧

Another day of bringing Changbin dinner to the studio is another day of Han and Chan making jokes about you being more like a wife than a best friend. You usually let the comments go, never commenting on them, just rolling your eyes and smiling but today something came over you. 

“He should just get down on one knee at this point. You’re even here earlier than him.” Chan huffs a laugh as he drags something across his screen and Han joins in. “He should be calling you his wife instead of Hyunjin.”

"I mean, what's so wrong with that?" Your response shuts them up instantly. They sit up straighter in their chairs, turning to where you’re seated at the end of the desk. They stare, blinking a bit and sharing a glance before looking back at you. “What?”

"You like him like that?" Chan asks, carefully mouthing his words so that he’s not too loud. A blush sweeps over you as you realize that you kinda confessed to them about your feelings for your best friend. You could deny it or you could finally let it all out. You chose the latter.

"I mean.. maybe, yeah." Your response is whispered as you stare down at the bag of food in your lap.

"How long have you liked him??" Han asks, his big brown eyes almost have a hint of excitement in them. What’s that about?

"I don't know, a year or two maybe." You shrug, trying to play off your long standing crush. The boys both sigh dramatically, pulling your attention over to them. 

"He likes you too! For like a solid year!" Jisung blurts out and Chan hits him, muttering a curse under his breath. "I don't care if he kills me for that. They are not about to play tag with each other."

"You should confess to him. He thought you didn't like him back." Chan follows, a lot calmer than Jisung.

"What? How could he think that? I thought I made it obvious." You move the bag in your lap to the desk. Your stomach feels fuzzy with nerves as you think of all of the times that you’ve tried to get Changbin to see you as more than a friend. All of the longing glances and gentle unnecessary touches. How could he not tell?

"Well, I guess not enough." Han slumps back into his chair with a sigh but you sit up straighter in yours. Your expression is serious, you’re passionate about this, about him.

"He's literally my favorite person. I mean, yeah he's my best friend but he’s also what gets me out of bed in the morning. He's the only person who knows me better than I know myself..." You trail off and Chan blinks over at you with wide eyes. Everything that you’ve been feeling for so long bubbles up in your chest. It’s banging on your ribcage, desperately pleading to escape.

"Hey uh -" Chan tries to fill in the seconds of silence. He tries to say something but your voice is louder than his. You have more to say. 

"He's literally my everything. I hate going a day without him. That's one reason why I bring you all lunch so often. I mean, my wallet is suffering but I don't care cause I get to see Bin. As soon as I see him it's like everything is okay, ya know? Like everything that happened in the day doesn't matter cause he's with me."

Chan tries to say something again but Jisung stops him and speaks instead. "This sounds like more than a crush."

"Are you asking me if I love him?"

Jisung smiles. "Do you?"

"I do." You smile down at your lap. "I do love him." 

"Good." Jisung sighs with a smile, standing from his spot at the desk. "We'll give you two a moment." You furrow your brows. Looking between him and Chan but their gaze is cast behind you. Oh no.

"I tried to tell you." Chan whispers as he gets up and slips out of the room with Jisung. You sit still, refusing to turn your chair around to face the object your newly confessed desires. 

"Hey." Changbin whispers as he drops his bag onto the couch by the door. He takes the chair right next to yours. He’s right in front of you and the air feels thin. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but at the same time it jumps with excitement. "I uh- I may have heard that."

"I'm gonna actually pass out." You roll your chair away from him, creating a safe distance between you two even though the only thing on your mind is falling into his arms. You want to hug him, you’ve waited all of this time to see him and now he’s here but your heart can only take so much before it explodes. Thank gods this chair has wheels.

"Did you mean all of that?" Changbin leans into you, trying his best to catch your distant gaze.

"Changbin..."

"Cause I feel the same way." Changbin reaches forward and pulls your chair back over to him. You're closer than before. His knee brushes yours and he keeps your chair in place with his foot. “I didn’t really show it cause… I don’t know, I thought that it was one sided. I thought that all those looks and touches were just you being nice. I didn’t want to think too far into it.”

His hand rests over where yours are fidgeting. He takes one of them, lacing your fingers together. “I love you too. I have for an embarrassingly long time.” Your gaze meets his, wide eyes meeting his nervous ones. That’s the first time he’s ever said I love you.

“I should’ve said something earlier. I should’ve confessed I just was so scared to lose you if you didn’t feel the same.” You chuckle softly, careful eyes searching his. “You could never lose me, Bin.”

His ears are burning red with your response. A crooked smile takes over and he squeezes your hand just a bit. You sit in silence for a second, smiling and blushing like grade schoolers until Changbin breaks the silence. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me? We could go to dinner tomorrow, let’s give your wallet a break.” Your chuckle is music to his ears, your smile is a masterpiece and the way that you shake your head yes is a dream come true.

“I’d like that.” You’ve never seen Changbin this red, he’s looking over at the monitors on the desk in a desperate attempt to calm down the joy vibrating through him. 

“Can I… maybe get a bit ahead of myself?” You furrow your brows, confused by what he means but he clears it up for you when he pulls your chair impossibly close with his foot. “I should wait, I know I should but I just… Can I kiss you?”

Time slows once his question hits the air. “You want to kiss me?” He smiles at you, leaning is a bit, hand still laced with yours as he answers softly. 

“Desperately.” Yours eyes meet, you slowly lean in until there’s no more than a mere inch between the two of you. “You can kiss me.” He sighs, smiling for a second before he closes the distance between you two. 

His lips are soft on yours. It’s everything that you could’ve ever wanted and more. It’s a simple peck, quick and innocent but it’s not enough. He pulls back for a second, eyes fluttering open in time with yours. “I’m sorry I just…” He starts but cuts himself off as he leans back in. 

His soft lips take yours in with more of a pull. This kiss is strong like him, sweet like you, it’s all of the passion you’ve secretly felt packaged in a single motion to be remembered forever. 

You squeeze his hand while his other rests on your thigh, lightly balled into a fist. He wants to touch you, maybe hold your waist and rub innocent circles into your thigh but he’s afraid that he might melt further. He’ll become a puddle at your feet and he can’t handle that right now. He needs a couple more seconds in heaven before he has to come down to earth. The kiss breaks with a gentle sound, you both pull back with eyes shut tight and small smiles. 

“That was...” You start and he finishes. “Yeah.” 

As if you read each other's minds you both fall into a fit of giggles. It’s awkward at first but it lightens up as it continues. Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder. “I hope that was okay.” 

“More than okay.”

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[nonranghaes]

changbin feels the way your hands slowly run down his sides before curling around his tummy, squishing him where he's soft now after a long day. he giggles a little, hands finding your own instantly as he pulls them away. "you're obsessed!"

but the sound of your sleepy laughter makes his heart flutter. he turns over to look at you, and you're looking at him like he's the person who hung every single star in the sky. the moment he lets go of your hand, you're already resting it at his hip with this silly little smile that he wants to kiss.

"you're cute, binnie." you take his face in both hands, squishing his cheeks just a little. "my big, buff--" you pause just long enough to yawn, "--squishy, cute binnie..."

ah. you've hit that point of sleepiness. he just chuckles, leaning in to kiss you. "you're still obsessed," he mumbles as he pulls away.

as if to prove his point, you wait until the exact moment that he turns over to snuggle back in and squish his tummy once more before settling in. but he smiles to himself, his back against your chest as he fully revels in being the little spoon to you.

[writingforstraykids]

Missed Calls

Pairing: Changbin x gn!Reader (short mention of Chan/Jisung)

Word Count: 1232

Summary: Changbin overdoes it before the upcoming tour and ends up in hospital. You're busy and miss the many notifications blowing up your phone until you finally realize you should get going.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, comfort, fainting, very short mention of blood, shitty communication skills, happy ending

A/N: Thank you, my love @zehina for helping me out with a prompt for this fic🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The sound of your ringtone is muffled beneath the blanket of music pouring from your headphones, bass-heavy and loud enough to match the mood clawing at your insides. You’re three hours into a long-overdue deep clean of your apartment- more rage-scrubbing than actual tidying, if you’re being honest - and your phone is buried somewhere under a pile of laundry and passive-aggressive to-do lists.

It’s been a day.

Actually, it’s been a week. Maybe a month. Too many deadlines, too many people asking for too many things. And on top of all that, the emotional whiplash of being half in a relationship with someone who belongs to the world and barely has time to belong to himself, let alone you.

Changbin.

Your thumb scrapes a smear of dried toothpaste off the bathroom mirror, and you glare at your reflection like it’s responsible for everything unraveling. You hadn’t meant to ignore him, not really. You’d just… needed a break. From the constant notifications, the packed schedule reminders he kept sharing, the tension you felt in every message that sounded like a goodbye disguised as a status update.

Still, you probably should’ve picked up.

The music cuts out suddenly, a faint vibration making your heart lurch in your chest. You yank the headphones off and fumble for your phone, finally digging it out from under your sweatshirt. The screen lights up with missed calls—fourteen of them. Nine messages. One from Jisung. Two from Felix. The rest are all Chan.

And then the most recent one: "Call me when you see this. It’s urgent."

Time slows. Your pulse pounds in your ears.

You swipe through the notifications with trembling fingers until you find the one that matters.

Chan [4:12 p.m.]: He collapsed at the gym. Hit his head. He's in the hospital. They're running tests now.

You don't remember grabbing your keys, or your jacket, or locking the door behind you. The world outside feels like a dream - sharp, unreal, smeared with the smog of city life and the blur of regret.

-

The hospital smells like antiseptic and stress. Bright lights buzz overhead as you make your way to the reception desk, barely managing to say Changbin’s name before someone’s guiding you down a too-white hallway.

Jisung’s waiting in the corridor, slumped in one of the plastic chairs, phone clutched in both hands like it’s the only thing tethering him to Earth. His eyes widen when he sees you. “You made it.”

“What happened?” Your voice is hoarse, breathless.

He stands, eyes flicking over you, and then pulls you into a hug you don’t realize you need until you’re already in it.

“He was at the gym. He overdid it, I guess. Barely ate, hadn’t slept. You know how he gets before tours. He just—” Jisung breaks off, swallowing hard. “He fainted. Hit the back of his head. There was blood. He wasn’t waking up for a while. Scared the hell out of us.”

“Is he—” You can’t finish the question. Your throat tightens around the words.

“He’s awake now. Groggy. Still in the ER while they check for a concussion or worse. You can go in.”

Your legs carry you down the corridor before your mind catches up. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s painful. The moment you push through the curtain, everything stops.

Changbin is lying on the bed, pale against the stark white sheets, a bandage wrapped around the back of his head. There’s a bruise forming just above his ear. His eyes are half-open, unfocused, but when they land on you, something shifts in them. He tries to sit up. “You’re here.”

You rush to his side. “God, Binnie—stay down, you shouldn’t—don’t move.”

His smile is weak. “You finally checked your phone.”

“I-” Your voice breaks. You clasp his hand, fingers trembling. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I was… cleaning. And angry. And ignoring everything. I should’ve-”

“It’s okay.” He squeezes your hand. “You’re here now.”

Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s guilt or relief or both. Probably both.

-

The nurse tells you he’ll need monitoring overnight. That the scans look okay, but concussions can be tricky. That he’s lucky.

You don’t feel lucky. You feel like you’ve failed him.

Later, when the nurse steps out and it’s just the two of you again, you sit by his bed, still holding his hand. His eyes keep drifting shut.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “So much.”

“I didn’t mean to.” His voice is soft, laced with exhaustion. “Just… wanted to be ready for tour. Felt like everything was on me, and I had to push harder. Guess I pushed too far.”

“You always do.” You say it gently, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “You carry too much.”

He exhales a shaky breath. “I thought maybe you were done. With me. You didn’t reply, and I figured… maybe I pushed you too far too.”

Your heart cracks wide open. “No. I was just tired. Frustrated. I thought you were shutting me out, again. I didn’t think - God, Binnie, I didn’t think something like this would happen.”

“Guess we both suck at talking,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Yeah. But we can get better. If you let me in. If you stop trying to do everything alone.”

Silence stretches between you, not heavy, but full.

“Will you stay tonight?” he asks, voice small.

You nod, already pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. “Always.”

-

That night, you don’t sleep. You sit in the hospital chair with your hand in his, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, listening to the quiet beeping of machines. Your phone buzzes again - Chan checking in this time. You reply briefly, letting him know Changbin’s resting, and then turn your phone over.

You think about how easily you could’ve lost him. How close you came to not getting this second chance.

The tour’s still happening, and you know the pressure won’t go away. But maybe, just maybe, the two of you can start showing up for each other in the moments that matter most.

One Week Later

Changbin’s better. He’s not cleared for full rehearsals yet, and it’s driving him up the wall. You catch him trying to sneak in push-ups in the living room, and you threaten to hide all the dumbbells.

“You know,” you say, leaning in the doorway with crossed arms, “if you pass out again, I’m not taking you to the hospital. I’ll just duct tape you to the couch.”

He laughs, the sound bright and welcome. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t. And I don’t want you to forget that just because you’re stubborn.”

He looks up at you, serious now. “I haven’t forgotten. Trust me.”

You walk over and sit beside him, grabbing his hand. “Next time something’s wrong - anything - I want you to tell me. Even if it’s just a bad day. Even if it’s small. Deal?”

He links your pinkies together. “Deal.”

-

The night before the tour, you help him pack. You find yourself lingering in the hallway as he zips up his suitcase, your stomach twisting. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself on tour.”

He walks over and cups your cheek.“Promise me you’ll pick up your phone next time.”

You nod, cheeks flushing. “Deal.”

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

His lips brush your forehead, soft and grounding. “Then we’ll both be okay.”

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