Stray Kids Fanfiction - Blog Posts

hi i’ve really enjoyed reading your work 🤗 can i make a request?

exes to lovers w/ jeongin where reader & him still try to have a good relationship & hang out w each other for the sake of their friend group but he kind of screws up by accidentally calling reader their pet name from when they were together?

(even better if it’s extra angsty🙂‍↕️)

Hey! Thank you so much for the request! I’m sorry it took me a hot minute to get it done, but I hope the length makes up for it 🥹 Please feel free to request again! ── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

────* ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 12.6K

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees. 

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none. 

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work. 

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity. 

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly. 

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan. 

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward. 

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment. 

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance. 

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe. 

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through. 

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was. 

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read: 

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat. 

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared. 

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?" 

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached. 

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend. 

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy. 

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 @lixies-favorite-cookie @madewithchildlabor (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @stascence @xxdwaekkaxx @raspberrii @joyofbebbanburg @drewsandsebastianswife @minholover1 @vangoghsear0 @theodorenottgf @chanshyunjin @cafffeineconnoisseur @villainstayy @qwonyoung23 @fawnoverdawn @sofix-hc7 @softkisshyunjin @anushasstuff

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

SO, UM 😭 I’m not sure why but my draft for this story got posted by accident! A few of you guys reblogged it, so if you did, can you please delete it and act shocked when I post the final version? Please? 😭

PERM TAGLIST: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 @lixies-favorite-cookie

POST TAGLIST: @stascence @xxdwaekkaxx @raspberrii @joyofbebbanburg @drewsandsebastianswife @minholover1 @vangoghsear0 @theodorenottgf @chanshyunjin @cafffeineconnoisseur @villainstayy @qwonyoung23 @fawnoverdawn @sofix-hc7 @softkisshyunjin @madewithchildlabor (Still open!)

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: September 10th

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.5k~

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This is sort of still a work in progress, but really it just means that I have to finish writing the ending of the final draft before finally moving on to proofreading. Since this is my first official long-fic (a story for a single member that's over 10K), I thought it might be fun to announce it now and see who's interested! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: Posted!

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.5k~

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This is sort of still a work in progress, but really it just means that I have to finish writing the ending of the final draft before finally moving on to proofreading. Since this is my first official long-fic (a story for a single member that's over 10K), I thought it might be fun to announce it now and see who's interested! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids' Maknae line when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was honestly so much fun to write! My personal favorite has got to be Felix's piece :) Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member except for Felix, Reader is a brat in Seungmin's piece, Seungmin's part is also kinda suggestive but nothing too serious, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing its arrival at the well-worn floor of your boyfriend’s apartment building. The sound, almost like an old friend’s greeting, blended with the soft rustle of takeout bags in your hands. Each step you took down the hallway was instinctive, as if your feet had memorized the path from countless visits. You mused that, at this point, you might as well be contributing to the rent, considering how often you wandered through these doors.

As you reached Jisung’s door, a sense of familiarity washed over you. The door, just as he’d assured you, was slightly ajar—a silent invitation into the cozy haven within. You gently nudged it open and slipped inside, the comfort of the space wrapping around you like an old, cherished blanket. 

With a practiced ease, you kicked off your shoes, the soft thud of their landing on the floor barely registering amidst the quiet. The scent of warm, delicious takeout, mingled with the faint aroma of Jisung’s cologne, filled the air as you made your way to the kitchen. You placed the bags atop the counter with a satisfied sigh, the familiar clink of containers and the gentle crinkle of paper marking the end of your journey and the beginning of another evening spent together.

“Honey, is that you?” Jisung’s voice, warm and familiar, drifted from the depths of his bedroom. The sound, gentle and inviting, coaxed a smile from your lips. You responded with a soft, affirming call, and set about unpacking the array of takeout food onto the kitchen counter, carefully sorting out the dinner you’d planned for Minho to enjoy later. The task, once mundane, felt infused with a sense of anticipation.

Yet, a curious feeling nudged at you. The curiosity won over practicality, and you decided to investigate the source of Jisung’s call. Leaving the neatly arranged containers behind, you approached his bedroom with soft footsteps, the hallway dimly illuminated by the subtle glow from the adjoining rooms. As you pushed open the door, a veil of darkness initially concealed the room’s contents.

You peered inside, eyes straining to adjust to the shadows. Slowly, shapes began to emerge from the obscurity. Jisung’s figure, snug and enveloped in the cocoon of his bed, came into view. His gaze, tender and filled with warmth, met yours through the gloom. The softness of his smile mirrored the affection in your own, as if sharing a silent, intimate conversation in the quiet of the room.

“Why aren’t you coming to eat?” you asked, your voice carrying a blend of playful curiosity and genuine concern, as you took in the serene sight of him waiting for you.

Jisung remained silent, his only response a slow, deliberate lift of his arm—a silent, yet eloquent invitation for you to join him. With a tender smile curling your lips, you moved toward him, feeling the comforting warmth of his presence. You sank into the plush embrace of his bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you settled beside him. He promptly draped the soft sheets over your body, their gentle weight providing a cocoon of warmth as he drew you closer, his arms encircling you with a sense of tender possessiveness.

In the dim, intimate glow of the room, you felt his breath, warm and soothing, as he nestled his face into the curve of your neck, a contented sigh escaping him. His closeness enveloped you in a cocoon of serene affection. You reached up, your fingers gently threading through his tousled hair, your touch both soothing and affectionate.

“Are you okay, my love?” you murmured, your voice a blend of concern and tenderness. Jisung’s response was a subtle nod, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the moment. 

“I’m just very tired,” he mumbled, his voice muffled and soft. “Spent the entire day with Chan and Changbin, working on some songs, and then we had dance rehearsal.” His words were nearly lost in the gentle hum of exhaustion that colored his tone. “Honestly, I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”

You chuckled softly, the sound a gentle ripple of warmth against the quiet of the room. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to his temple, the gesture imbued with both affection and understanding.

“Since we’re not eating just yet, how about I put away the food first before we settle in for a nap together?” you suggest softly, the words slipping gently into the quiet space between you. As you attempt to wriggle free from his tender embrace, Jisung responds with a playful squeeze, a muffled whine of disapproval escaping his lips. His arms tighten around you, cocooning you in warmth and affection, unwilling to let go.

You can’t help but giggle at his stubbornness, your fingers tapping lightly on his biceps in a playful plea for release. Despite your gentle insistence, he remains resolute, his embrace as comforting as it is firm. “Please, just a moment,” you implore, your voice a soothing blend of amusement and persistence. “I promise it’ll only take a second.”

The room seems to hold its breath as you wait for his response, the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic beat of your hearts creating a quiet symphony of intimacy and warmth.

He groans dramatically, his head falling back with a sleepily exaggerated pout that tugs at your heartstrings. Unable to resist, you lean in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. The moment is soft and fleeting, a quiet affirmation of your affection. However, before the kiss can deepen, an unexpected yelp of surprise pierces the tranquility.

Startled, you both turn to see Chan standing in the doorway, his cheeks flushed a vivid shade of crimson. He stands there, momentarily frozen, as he fumbles with the light switch, the room flooding with sudden brightness. “Sorry,” Chan mumbles, his voice a hesitant whisper. His eyes dart away from the two of you, clearly embarrassed as he steps further inside. “Hannie said I could come in here to grab the cable I need. I didn’t realize you’d be here—I thought he would be at your place.”

With a sheepish nod, Chan dives into the drawers of Jisung’s desk, his movements quick and purposeful as he searches for the elusive cable. Within moments, he triumphantly retrieves it, his gaze flickering back to you and Jisung in an apologetic glance. Bowing awkwardly, Chan’s cheeks remain flushed as he hurries to exit. Jisung, watching the whole scene unfold, can’t suppress a chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. Chan, now thoroughly embarrassed, flicks the lights off with a swift motion before making a hasty exit, his footsteps echoing as he bolts out of the apartment.

“He’s so ridiculous,” Jisung mutters, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and exasperation. He finally loosens his embrace, allowing you to slip away as he sinks back into the plush depths of the bed. His eyes drift shut, heavy with fatigue, leaving the space beside him achingly vacant.

You rise, your movements gentle as you tread softly across the room, the dim light casting a warm glow over the scene. Jisung’s words hang in the air, a tender plea that tugs at your heart. “Hurry up,” he murmurs, his tone a soft blend of longing and affection. “I miss you already.”

The quiet intimacy of his request fills the room, a promise of the warmth and closeness awaiting you as you return to his side.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

The melody had woven itself into a relentless loop, its notes echoing and intertwining with the fabric of time for the past two hours. Despite the growing monotony of its repetition, your admiration for Yongbok’s unwavering commitment remains undiminished. Each echo of the song was met with his tireless pursuit of perfection, his every move an intricate dance of effort and grace.

As you watched him, your gaze was drawn to the artistry of his movements, which seemed to inch closer to flawless execution with every cycle of the song. Yet, your focus wavered slightly, ensnared by the sight before you. The relentless dance had left Yongbok drenched in perspiration, his thin white tank top clinging to his toned frame as though it were a second skin. His long hair, once neatly styled, now adhered to his neck and forehead in damp tendrils, framing his face with an unrestrained charm.

Under the harsh, bright glare of the overhead lights, Yongbok's sweat caught the illumination, casting a mesmerizing shimmer that made him appear almost ethereal, as if he were a creature of light and shadow dancing beneath a celestial spotlight. The sight of him, glowing with an otherworldly radiance, was enough to pull your thoughts away from the task at hand.

Suddenly, you jolted back to the present, your mind snapping into focus just in time to catch a subtle misstep in Yongbok's otherwise flawless routine. The small error, though minor, stood out against the backdrop of his otherwise meticulous performance, a testament to both his dedication and the endless pursuit of perfection.

With a practiced flick of your thumb, you paused the relentless song. Yongbok, spent and breathless, trudged over to you, each step heavy with fatigue. His once sharp movements were now slower, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. He reached for his water bottle with a grateful, weary groan, tilting it back to quench his thirst before collapsing onto the floor beside you in a defeated slump.

A sympathetic chuckle escaped your lips as you rose from your spot, now relinquished to the worn patch of ground Yongbok had recently vacated. You adjusted your position, preparing to offer guidance. "Yongbokie," you began, your voice soothing and encouraging, "you’re slowing down the transition between these two moves, which disrupts the rhythm. It’s causing you to fall out of sync with the tempo."

With a patient, guiding touch, you demonstrated the movements, your body moving with the precision you hoped to convey. The graceful flow of your actions contrasted with the slower, labored efforts of Yongbok’s earlier attempts. "If you can manage to execute the transitions a bit faster," you said, illustrating the corrected pace with fluidity, "you’ll stay in perfect harmony with the beats. Let’s try it one more time. You’re so close to getting it just right, I promise."

Though Yongbok huffed in exhaustion, his resolve remained steadfast. He nodded, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes as he pulled himself off the ground to face the challenge once more. You patted his backside affectionately, your smile radiating warmth and encouragement. With a final, reassuring glance, you settled back into your own spot, your hand poised to restart the song and guide him through one more round of practice.

As the challenging segment of the choreography approached once again, a wave of anticipation rippled through the room. This time, as Yongbok executed the intricate moves with newfound precision, a burst of joy erupted from you. The moment he flawlessly completed the sequence, a triumphant cheer escaped your lips, filling the air with infectious excitement.

Yongbok’s face lit up with a radiant grin, his pride palpable as he executed the final steps with flawless grace. The relief was evident in his posture as the last notes of the song drifted into silence. Breathless and spent, he leaned heavily against the choreography’s completion, his body glistening with the sheen of hard-earned sweat.

Without hesitation, you sprang into action, wrapping your arms around him in a jubilant embrace. Despite the stickiness of his sweat-soaked form, your excitement and affection overshadowed any discomfort. Yongbok’s chuckle, light and appreciative, resonated in the space between you. His weight shifted onto you, causing a delighted giggle to bubble from your lips as you wobbled slightly, struggling to maintain your balance.

With a joyful determination, you steadied yourself, ensuring you could support both of you. “That was exactly what I was hoping for, Yongbok! You nailed it perfectly!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with admiration. The connection between you two, now solidified by the shared triumph, felt both exhilarating and endearing, marking the culmination of a well-deserved moment of celebration.

"Does this mean we’re finished for today?" Yongbok’s voice was laced with a mixture of hope and weariness as he slowly lifted himself off you, his gaze searching for confirmation. His eyes, wide and gleaming with anticipation, met yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart skip a beat. 

You laughed softly, a warm sound that mingled with the dim glow of satisfaction in the room. Nodding, you placed a gentle hand on his damp abdomen, the contact reassuring and tender. Yongbok’s tired cheer was a muted echo of his earlier exuberance, a blend of relief and lingering fatigue.

However, the moment was charged with a different kind of energy as Yongbok’s eyes fixed on you with an almost palpable intensity. The depth of his gaze was impossible to ignore, and it made you shift uneasily, feeling a pang of discomfort mixed with longing. You were acutely aware of the electric chemistry between you two, the unspoken tension that lingered just beneath the surface. Though the desire to explore something beyond your professional boundaries was strong, the reality of your roles—idol and choreographer—kept you tethered to the confines of your current relationship.

With a heavy heart, you took a step back, the space between you now marked by a careful, deliberate distance. The flicker of disappointment in Yongbok’s eyes was quick and fleeting, though it did not escape your notice. In an instant, his expression softened, and a shy smile crept onto his lips, a tender acknowledgment of the boundaries you both knew you had to maintain.

"Do you happen to know where the other members should be right now?" Yongbok asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity as he ambled back towards his water bottle. With a swift motion, he downed the remaining liquid in a single, satisfying gulp, the action accompanied by a soft, relieved sigh.

As Yongbok wiped away the sweat from his brow with the hem of his drenched tank top, the fabric clinging to his form, you couldn't help but be drawn to the sight of his toned, glistening abs. The subtle sheen of perspiration against his skin created an almost mesmerizing glimmer. You inhaled sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected display.

Embarrassment quickly flush your cheeks and ears with a deep, vibrant crimson. You cleared your throat, the sound a weak attempt to regain composure, and shifted your gaze to the opposite side of the dance room. There, your belongings were scattered haphazardly across the familiar leather couch. You made a beeline for it, desperately seeking refuge from the heat rising in your face.

"I think Chan is in his studio with Changbin and Han, as usual," you managed, your voice wavering slightly as you unplugged your charger and hastily stuffed it into your bag. "But I'm not entirely sure about the rest of the members." As you fumbled with your bag, you recalled a recent conversation. "Wait, Minho mentioned something about going out to eat with I.N, if I remember correctly."

The words stumbled out with an air of nervous distraction, as you tried to steady yourself amidst the lingering flush of embarrassment.

When you turned around, a jolt of surprise raced through you. Yongbok stood so close behind you that you could almost feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes, shimmering with a daring glint, set your heart racing uncontrollably. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch and your body tense, an intoxicating wave of anticipation washing over you.

His presence, almost overwhelming in its proximity, brought an unexpected silence between you. Yongbok’s smirk, laden with a hint of arrogance, conveyed a quiet confidence that seemed to pierce right through your defenses. The way he loomed over you, casting a shadow of both authority and allure, was a detail that had always stirred something deep within you. You realized with a start that you were holding your breath, caught in a moment where your unspoken dreams felt tantalizingly close to reality.

As his gaze slid deliberately to your lips, the unspoken possibility of what could happen next seemed to hang in the air. The thrill of breaking boundaries and rules danced at the edge of your consciousness, but the electric current of desire was stronger. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the strap of your bag tightly, a physical manifestation of the mixture of anxiety and adrenaline coursing through you.

In that charged moment, the consequences of your actions felt distant and inconsequential. The possibility of Yongbok leaning in and shattering the boundaries of professionalism made your thoughts swirl in a haze of longing and exhilaration. You allowed yourself to be consumed by this desire, choosing to embrace the intensity of the moment and deal with any repercussions later. For now, logic faded into the background as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of what might unfold.

"I, um," Yongbok began, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur that barely cut through the silence of the dance room, which was usually a whirlwind of sound and energy. The room's rare quietude made his words stand out, their subtle weight heavy in the calm.

"I always enjoy these private sessions with you. Even if it’s just for a short while, having you to myself truly becomes one of the highlights of my day." The sincerity in his voice was unexpected, and it struck you with a force that made your heart flutter. As you absorbed the depth of his words, your cheeks warmed, turning a deeper shade of red. The weight of his intention was clear, and it sparked a genuine smile that spread across your face, unable to be contained.

Seeing your reaction, Yongbok’s smirk softened into a tender, almost shy grin. His eyes, previously sharp and intense, now crinkled into crescent moons, their corners adorned with the sparkling constellation of his freckles. The sight was endearing, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"I also really enjoy these sessions with you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath. You noticed his gaze linger on your lips once more, an unspoken conversation passing between your glances. "You make a pretty good student." The compliment was light but sincere, a playful acknowledgment of the bond you shared in these intimate moments of practice.

The low, rumbling chuckle that emerged from Yongbok's chest had a mesmerizing effect on you, leaving you momentarily dazed. Your gaze drifted slowly to his exquisitely plump lips, each curve and line illuminated by the soft light that bathed the room. 

"Yeah?" he teased, his voice carrying a playful challenge. The sound elicited a soft, involuntary giggle from you, a delightful echo of your shared tension. You watched as he inched closer, his presence growing more intoxicating with each passing second. His warm breath, gentle and inviting, fanned across your face in a way that was almost addictive. The sensation sent a shiver racing down your spine, a physical reminder of how close you now were. 

In this moment, you were acutely aware that this was the closest you had ever been to him. A silent prayer formed in your mind, hoping that this proximity wouldn’t be a fleeting encounter but the beginning of something more. The air between you crackled with anticipation, making you feel almost intoxicated by the intensity of the moment. 

Yongbok paused just before your lips could meet, his gaze locking onto yours with an unexpected intensity. The question that followed was softly spoken, almost reverent in its delivery. "Could I... may I kiss you?" His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but all he found was a mixture of eagerness and affection. 

You nodded, your movements almost frantic in their urgency, as if you were desperate to reassure him. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with the whirlwind of emotions that enveloped you. His gaze softened, and with your consent granted, he closed the distance between you. 

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionately charged, a culmination of all the unspoken desires and longings that had simmered between you. The sensation was electrifying, and you felt your bag slip from your shoulder, landing softly on the floor with a muted thud. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him closer, savoring the intimate connection you had yearned for so long.

You barely registered the low, appreciative groan that escaped Yongbok as his arms encircled your waist, pulling you irresistibly closer against him. The sweat and stickiness from hours of rigorous rehearsal faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the profound intimacy of the kiss. 

As your lips melded together, the kiss deepened, a powerful exchange that spoke volumes of the years of unspoken longing and desire. Each movement was desperate, as if trying to communicate all the feelings that had been kept hidden for so long. The connection was so intense that you found yourself almost panting with the fervor of it, each breath a testament to the depth of your emotions.

In this sacred moment, you felt as though you were observing yourself from a distance, as if through a veil or a screen. Standing on the tips of your toes, you sought to bridge the remaining space between you, craving more of the warmth and closeness that he offered. The kiss seemed to transcend the physical act itself; it was a vessel for the profound yearning you had harbored throughout your time working together. Every touch, every brush of his lips, was a way to convey just how deeply you had longed for this connection.

To your utter dismay, the cherished moment you had longed for was abruptly shattered by the sharp sound of a scandalized gasp from across the room. The noise jolted you from your reverie, and you instinctively pushed Yongbok away, stumbling backward in a daze. Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to see Hyunjin standing at the entrance of the dance room, his jaw hanging open in astonishment and his eyes wide with disbelief.

Hyunjin’s gaze darted rapidly between you and Yongbok, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. The air seemed to thicken with tension, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. You floundered, desperately trying to summon a coherent excuse, but the words seemed to elude you in your state of panic. Yongbok, for his part, wore a deep crimson blush and offered a sheepish smile, clearly as taken aback as you were.

The silence between you was heavy, suffused with the weight of unspoken words and mounting anxiety. Hyunjin, despite his apparent shock, didn’t seem like the type to make a fuss, but the thought of potential consequences gnawed at your gut. The fear of losing the job you had come to cherish so deeply loomed large. Dancing had always been your sole passion, and the opportunity to choreograph for such an incredible group had been a dream come true. The confidence you had felt moments ago evaporated, leaving you trembling and vulnerable, a far cry from the composed professional you had aspired to be.

To your astonishment, a broad, teasing grin spread across Hyunjin’s face, his eyes glinting with mischief as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. His gaze shifted from you to Yongbok with an air of playful challenge. “Lixie, when did you get so daring?” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “I never thought you’d actually go for it.”

The shock of his words made you whirl your head to face Yongbok, who was now blushing deeply, his cheeks a vivid shade of red. He shot Hyunjin a half-hearted glare, his embarrassment palpable. “How long have you two been seeing each other?” Hyunjin continued, his voice rising with mock indignation. “And why haven’t I heard anything about it?”

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a playful pout that made the whole situation feel oddly lighthearted despite the tension. His demeanor was almost too casual for the gravity of the moment.

Yongbok, still flushed and clearly flustered, waved his hands in front of him in a frantic gesture. “You haven’t heard anything because you just interrupted our first kiss, you idiot!” The exasperation in his voice was evident, mingled with the lingering blush of his cheeks.

As Hyunjin’s realization dawned upon him, his entire demeanor shifted from playful mischief to genuine remorse. His face flushed with sudden guilt, and he bowed repeatedly, his hurried apologies tumbling out in a rush. With a final, sheepish glance, he bolted from the room with surprising speed, leaving behind a palpable silence.

You stood there, momentarily stunned, your eyes fixed on the spot where Hyunjin had just been. The shock of the interruption lingered, making the stillness around you seem almost tangible. After a few moments, Yongbok cautiously stepped back into your line of sight. He resumed his previous position but with a respectful distance, his gaze searching for any sign of your reaction.

"I'm sorry about that," Yongbok mumbled, his voice tinged with a shy, almost bashful quality. "I may or may not have been crushing on you for quite a while." His confession hung in the air, and you felt a flutter of amusement at his honest admission.

Shaking yourself out of the daze, a soft giggle escaped your lips, breaking the lingering tension. You bent to retrieve the bag you had dropped in the frenzy of the moment, your cheeks still flushed with a persistent blush. "I think it's actually quite cute," you said sincerely, meeting his gaze with warmth. "If it helps, I’ve also had feelings for you for a while. I guess that makes us even."

The smile that bloomed on Yongbok’s face was radiant, transforming his earlier embarrassment into an endearing display of joy. Seeing his expression light up made your heart swell with affection, and your own smile widened in response. The shared understanding between you felt like a promise of something beautiful beginning to unfold.

Finally, as the realization of your earlier intention to leave washed over him, Yongbok reached out with a gentle, reassuring gesture. His hand, warm and steady, closed around the handle of your bag, taking it from your grasp despite the evident confusion that flickered across your face.

With a soft, earnest smile, he met your gaze. "I'd like to walk you home, if you'll allow me," he offered, his voice carrying a tender note of sincerity. The invitation hung in the air, a promise of continued closeness and shared moments, as he stood there, waiting for your response with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

The heavy, cumbersome bags dug relentlessly into your forearms as you and Seungmin trudged through the labyrinthine corridors leading to his apartment. Each step you took felt like a battle against the relentless weight, the rough straps cutting into your skin. Despite your intimate familiarity with this maze of hallways—so well-known that you could navigate it even with your eyes closed—Seungmin led the way with a quiet confidence. 

The silence between you was filled with a subtle, unspoken ease. The only sounds punctuating the stillness were the occasional rustle of plastic and the soft, steady rhythm of your breath. Your panting was light, a testament to the slight strain you felt as you wrestled with the bags' burdens. Seungmin had insisted on carrying every single bag in one go, a decision born from a practical desire to avoid the inconvenience of multiple trips. You could grudgingly acknowledge the wisdom in his suggestion, even as you shot occasional glares at the back of his head, cursing the added effort required.

Despite your murmured complaints, the truth was that Seungmin had taken on the lion's share of the load. His gentlemanly nature had ensured that the majority of the burden fell upon him, leaving you with only a few bags to manage. His consideration was evident, and though you resented the extra strain, you couldn't deny the relief it brought you.

With a deep, grateful sigh, you finally spotted the familiar door that marked the threshold of your boyfriend’s apartment, where he shared his space with his friend Yongbok. The door stood at the end of the hallway, a beacon of familiarity in the dimly lit corridor. As you and Seungmin rounded the final corner, a cacophony of sounds spilled out from within, a vivid reminder of the lively chaos unfolding just beyond the threshold.

Even from this distance, the din was unmistakable. The clamor of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of playful shouts drifted through the walls, painting a vivid picture of the evening’s revelry. It was a weekly ritual, a cherished tradition among the group: a night dedicated to drinks, games, and movies. The venue for these gatherings rotated among the four apartments, and tonight was Seungmin and Yongbok’s turn to play host.

This familiar routine was the reason for your last-minute excursion, a hurried shopping trip undertaken with Seungmin. The promise of good company and the comforting familiarity of these gatherings made every effort worthwhile, even if it meant bearing the burden of heavy bags and enduring the bustle of a lively home.

As the two of you finally approached your destination, the hallway seemed to stretch out in slow motion. You observed Seungmin with a mixture of anticipation and amusement as he fumbled with his keys, his fingers deftly searching for the right one to unlock the door and liberate you both from the burdensome weight of the grocery bags. Each moment seemed to elongate as he concentrated intently on the task at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

A spark of mischief flickered within you, and a playful smirk curved your lips as an impish idea took shape. Seizing the opportunity, you inched closer to him despite the heavy bags you still carried. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in and gently nipped at his earlobe—an area you knew to be particularly sensitive, a delightful secret you alone had the privilege of knowing.

The effect was immediate and electrifying. Seungmin's task came to an abrupt halt as he shot you a look of mock indignation, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. You could almost feel the jolt of pleasure radiating through him, and the sight of his reaction filled you with giddy satisfaction. Your smirk widened, thoroughly pleased with the ripple of surprise and delight you'd managed to provoke.

“You’re a brat, you know that, right?” Seungmin’s voice was laced with playful reprimand, but the intense glimmer of desire in his eyes was unmistakable—a fiery spark that you could discern from miles away. An exhilarating surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, yet you maintained an innocent facade, one you knew perfectly well would drive him to distraction. Teasing him was a delight, particularly because he was so wonderfully easy to provoke.

With a resigned shake of his head, Seungmin decided to forgo engaging further in your tantalizing game. He returned to his task, wrestling with the tangled keys and the cumbersome grocery bags. Despite his frustration, he eventually managed to grasp the elusive key he’d been searching for, his movements a blend of determination and exasperation.

You pouted slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort of the heavy bags digging into your arms as you once again leaned in, eager to continue your playful assault. But before you could take another nip at his ear, you were met with an unexpected turn of events. A startled gasp escaped your lips as Seungmin swiftly maneuvered you against the wall beside the entrance door. The thud of the grocery bags hitting the floor was a distant sound, overshadowed by the deliciously stern gaze Seungmin now directed at you. His eyes, fierce and intense, held you captive in a moment of electrifying silence, leaving you utterly captivated and breathless.

You were unrepentantly shameless in your brattiness whenever Seungmin was near; it was a facet of yourself that you relished, an irresistible indulgence that compelled him to respond with a roughness that only fueled your excitement further. The thrill of this dynamic was too captivating to forgo, and the sight of him now made your knees quiver slightly, though his firm grip on your waist steadied you, his hands pressing down with a force that bordered on painful.

"You're going to need to be on your best behavior once we go inside, pup," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. The warm breath against your ear sent thrilling shivers cascading down your spine, a tangible reminder of his proximity and the intensity of his focus. The sternness of his tone only added to the charged atmosphere between you.

In response to the overwhelming sensation, you let the bags you’d been clutching fall to the floor with a grateful thud, the weight lifting from your arms like a welcome reprieve. You eagerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, the warmth of his body merging with yours. A startled gasp escaped you when Seungmin’s teeth suddenly grazed the nape of your neck, his bite both sharp and exhilarating. His gaze, a blend of silent challenge and teasing, held you captive as he pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken promises and the lingering thrill of the moment.

Without a second thought, you leaned in with fervor, capturing his irresistibly warm lips in a heated kiss. Your body pressed eagerly against his, a blend of warmth and excitement fueling your playful exchange. The kiss was both urgent and tender, a passionate dance that seemed to defy time itself.

Yet, just as suddenly as you had initiated the kiss, you broke away, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You pushed him gently, feigning a lighthearted annoyance. "Come on, Min, we have to get inside quickly—I don't want my ice cream to melt," you said, your voice adopting an innocent tone that belied the intense arousal you felt. You moved to retrieve the fallen grocery bags, determined to restore some semblance of normalcy.

However, your attempt to distance yourself was swiftly thwarted. Before you could get very far, Seungmin's hands were firmly on your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed against the wall once more. His eyes, ablaze with a mix of irritation and desire, locked onto yours with an intensity that you found intoxicating. 

"No, pup, you started this," he murmured with a gruff edge to his voice. His lips then descended upon your neck, expertly finding that sensitive spot you so loved. His tongue traced and teased with a skill that made you sigh in deep satisfaction. As he lavished attention on your neck, you instinctively wrapped your arms around him again, savoring the thrilling intimacy of the moment.

As you began to rock your hips in a desperate bid for more friction, a sudden distraction interrupted your moment. The front door creaked open, its sound briefly pulling your focus away. Yet, Seungmin remained undeterred, his determination to stir your passions evident in the way he continued to work you up with unrelenting intensity.

You craned your neck, your gaze settling on Minho, who stood at the threshold with an amused snort. His eyes danced with barely concealed laughter as he took in the scene before him. His gaze dropped to the grocery bags strewn haphazardly on the floor, abandoned in the midst of your playful struggle. 

"They're back!" Minho's voice rang out, cheerful and slightly teasing. "Our Seungminnie is a bit preoccupied at the moment—busy being his usual doggy self. So if someone could lend me a hand with these bags, I'd appreciate it. I need to get dinner started," he added, his laughter causing his voice to break with a playful edge. With a few deft motions, he gathered several bags and turned to head back inside, leaving you and Seungmin in a bubble of intimate chaos.

Moments later, Chan emerged, his expression one of affectionate amusement as he playfully cooed at Seungmin. With a grin, he took hold of the remaining bags, his presence adding a warm, reassuring energy to the scene. As he followed Minho inside, he closed the door gently behind him, leaving you and Seungmin to resume your private interlude amidst the soft echo of the apartment’s lively ambiance.

A startled moan escaped your lips as Seungmin’s teeth sank into the tender flesh of your neck once more, his bite more forceful and insistent than before. The sensation sent shivers coursing down your spine, a raw mixture of pleasure and surprise. 

Seungmin’s voice, though laced with a sarcastic edge, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment. “Thanks for that,” he murmured, his words dripping with mock irritation. Yet, his actions betrayed the playful harshness of his tone. He pulled you impossibly closer, his grip tightening around you with a fervent, possessive energy. The closeness only served to underscore his own arousal, an unspoken testament to the charged atmosphere between you. His body pressed firmly against yours, each movement conveying a depth of desire that matched your own heightened sensations.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

In the gentle hum of late afternoon, the table in front of you became a tapestry of neatly folded garments, each piece meticulously arranged. The clothes, a delicate mix of your own and Jeongin's, formed soft, colorful mounds, their textures inviting a closer look. You worked silently, your fingers deftly handling the final batch of freshly dried laundry that Jeongin had just brought in. The room was filled with a tranquil rhythm, punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional sigh of contentment.

Jeongin's presence was like a warm breeze, a comforting whisper against the backdrop of domesticity. He slipped into the space beside you with effortless grace, his lips pressing a gentle, affectionate kiss to your cheek. It was a sweet, fleeting gesture that spoke of deep affection, a moment of intimacy amidst the mundane task of folding clothes. 

This was the first time you had woven your lives together in such a simple, yet profoundly meaningful way. The day had unfolded with a natural ease, as though you both were actors playing out a scene from a well-loved script. The apartment, once a chaotic landscape of disarray, now felt like a canvas being painted with the colors of shared domesticity. 

Jeongin had seized the opportunity of his day off to tackle the untidy corners of his home, a task he had long postponed. Yet, in his desire to make the most of the day, he found himself yearning for your company. You had offered to assist with the chores, with the playful condition that you would also tend to your own laundry in his space. The agreement was made with a lighthearted chuckle, an unspoken promise of more moments like this—simple, joyful, and richly woven with the threads of companionship.

From the edges of your vision, you caught the sight of his dimples making a gentle appearance, etched into his cheeks like sweet indentations. They were the result of the tender smile that danced upon his lips, a subtle curve that spoke of warmth and quiet joy. Drawn to the softness of his expression, you turned to face him fully, your own smile beginning to bloom, pulling at the corners of your mouth with a playful grace.

“What has you so delightfully smiley?” you inquired, your voice tinged with a teasing lilt that fluttered through the air. His response came as a light-hearted chuckle, a sound as soft as a whispering breeze, accompanied by a modest shrug that seemed to carry the weight of his contentment. Seeking to coax more from him, you nudged his arm gently with your elbow, a tender gesture meant to elicit a deeper revelation.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice a soft murmur, the smile remaining steadfast and sincere. “I usually find chores like this a bit of a drudge, but today has been different. It’s been so lovely to do this with you.” His heartfelt confession unfurled in the quiet space between you, causing your heart to swell with a warm, affectionate glow. The earnestness in his eyes and the simplicity of his words stirred something deep within you, and a soft, melodic giggle escaped your lips, blending with the gentle rhythm of your shared moment.

In truth, the tapestry of your relationship was still being woven, with threads of time only recently beginning to intertwine. The two of you had yet to travel far from the fresh, unblemished shores of early romance. The incessant fluttering of your hearts, a constant and delicate dance, was a telltale sign that you were still immersed in the radiant bubble of your honeymoon phase. Each shared glance, every fleeting touch, seemed imbued with an ineffable sweetness that colored the world with a softer hue.

In these tender moments, such as folding each other’s clothes, the act felt imbued with a quiet sanctity. What might seem like mundane tasks in the eyes of the world were transformed into sacred rituals between you. Each folded garment was more than just fabric; it was a silent promise, a whispered vow of a future enriched with even more tenderness and intimacy. The simplicity of these acts became a testament to the budding depth of your connection, a gentle assurance that these early days were but the beginning of a beautifully unfolding story.

As you folded the final pair of Jeongin's socks, the rhythmic motion of your hands was accompanied by a contented sigh. Leaning against the table, you turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with an unspoken connection. Moments later, he completed the task of hanging the last of your tops onto a hanger—a humble relic from your own home—his movements graceful and deliberate.

He turned to you, his face illuminated by the same dimpled smile that had captured your heart so effortlessly. “I think this means we’re done cleaning,” you said, a note of cheerful satisfaction in your voice. Jeongin's nod of agreement mirrored your own contentment, his eyes twinkling with shared joy. “How about we watch a movie now? I could make us some popcorn,” you suggested, your voice carrying a hopeful lilt.

As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the dreamy expression on his face. It was as though he were enchanted by the sight of you, his gaze filled with a deep, almost reverent adoration. Despite his usual aversion to physical contact, Jeongin’s arms, strong and reassuring, encircled you with a surprising tenderness. The embrace was warm and enveloping, your arms gently pinned between your bodies. Laughter bubbled up, filling the cozy confines of the laundry room with a light, melodious sound.

He looked down at you, his eyes shimmering with an affectionate gleam, his smile broad and adorably sincere. In that moment, you felt yourself melting into the safety of his embrace, a profound sense of belonging washing over you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and joy.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into a serene stillness, each moment stretching languorously as you lost yourself in the profound warmth of his eyes. Their depths seemed to draw you in, a captivating ocean of affection and sincerity. Your fingers, almost unconsciously, traced the delicate chain resting against his chest, their movements a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of his gaze.

In the midst of this tranquil exchange, you were not the least bit surprised when his soft, tender lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and deeply heartfelt. The touch was a whisper of warmth and intimacy, a silent promise that spoke volumes. You returned his kiss with equal fervor, your lips melding with his in a dance of shared emotion.

Despite the familiarity of the gesture, the effect on you was anything but ordinary. Your heart, ever so responsive, performed an elegant pirouette within your chest, fluttering with a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and soothing. It was as though each kiss with Jeongin carried a unique magic, a spellbinding effect that rendered each encounter as thrilling as the first. His presence seemed to ignite a vibrant, ineffable energy within you, making even the simplest of moments feel profoundly significant.

As the kiss deepened, its tender embrace seemed to hold time in suspension. Yet, the tranquility of the moment was abruptly interrupted by a voice that sliced through the intimacy like a sudden breeze. "Oh, well I guess not," Seungmin mumbled to himself, his voice laced with bemused resignation as he turned to make his exit.

Before Seungmin could disappear from view, Jeongin’s voice rang out, a note of curiosity threading through his words. “Hey! You guess not what?” Seungmin’s head poked back into the laundry room, his face a mask of nonchalance. He offered a brief, impassive nod in your direction as a greeting, his eyes flickering between you and Jeongin. 

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out to eat," Seungmin explained, his tone casual yet inviting. "Channie told me you'd be here. If Y/N wants to join, it’s on me." The offer was accompanied by a small, friendly smile, a gesture of genuine camaraderie.

You returned his smile, your eyes drifting up to meet Jeongin’s as you awaited his response. The two of you exchanged a glance, a silent dialogue unfolding in the brief, wordless moments. Jeongin’s eyes held a spark of consideration, his gaze reflecting the warmth of shared understanding. After a heartbeat of contemplation, he turned back to Seungmin with a decisive nod. "Yeah, we’ll go."

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids' Hyung line when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was honestly so much fun to write! Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

You stepped into the familiar recording studio, the dim lights casting a soft glow on the walls adorned with musical equipment and notes scribbled in haste. A paper bag filled with snacks and drinks dangled from your hand, its weight a comforting reminder of your routine visits. Your smile radiates warmth as your eyes meet Chan's, who sat hunched over the mixing console. His gaze lifted, revealing a flicker of gratitude despite the heavy shadows of exhaustion under his eyes.

He returned your smile, a faint but genuine curve of his lips that spoke volumes about his weariness. You chose silence, understanding the unspoken need for peace in this creative sanctuary. With gentle steps, you crossed the room, your presence a soothing balm to his fatigue. Leaning down, you placed a tender kiss on his head, a simple gesture of affection that momentarily lifted the burden from his shoulders.

Reaching into the bag, you retrieved a pack of chips and a bottle, offering them to Chan with a reassuring touch. He accepted them gratefully, his fingers brushing against yours in a brief but intimate exchange. You then settled into your usual spot on the leather couch behind him, its familiar creases and scent a comfort in this shared space. With your phone in hand, you prepared to keep yourself entertained, a quiet guardian of his creative process. The studio's ambient hum and the soft rustle of snack wrappers became the soundtrack to this intimate moment, a testament to the silent support that flowed between you.

This had become your usual routine—a cherished ritual that intertwined your lives with comforting regularity. Every other day, you would find yourself here, in the sanctuary of the recording studio, offering your quiet companionship while he immersed himself in his work. Your role was not merely to be present but to eventually coax him away from his intense focus, ensuring he returned home with you for the rest he so desperately needed.

Tonight was no different. You nestled into the familiar embrace of the leather couch, your fingers idly scrolling through social media, a soft glow from your phone illuminating your face. The ambient sounds of the studio enveloped you, a symphony of creativity and dedication. The rhythmic tapping of buttons, the soft click of switches, and the occasional hum of equipment blended into a soothing background noise.

Every now and then, a sigh of frustration would escape Chan's lips, a testament to his tireless pursuit of perfection. You glanced up occasionally, observing the furrow of his brow, the determination etched in his features. His passion was palpable, filling the room with an electric energy that made your heart swell with pride and tenderness.

Despite the ambient hum and your digital distraction, you were attuned to his every move, ready to step in when the time came. The silent understanding between you both was a testament to the deep bond you shared—a bond forged in these moments of mutual support and quiet companionship. This was your routine, a beautiful dance of dedication and care, ensuring that amidst the whirlwind of his creative storm, he found a safe harbor in your presence.

Eventually, Chan wheeled around in his chair, his gaze locking onto you as you lay sprawled across the couch, indulging in a handful of sour gummies. His eyes softened, the weariness momentarily giving way to a tender appreciation for your presence. For a brief moment, he remained still, simply observing you with a small, tired smile.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted himself from his seat, the soft creak of the chair punctuating the silence. Each step he took toward you seemed to carry the weight of his exhaustion, yet there was a lightness in his eyes as he approached. Without warning, he let his body drape over yours, the suddenness of it eliciting a startled yelp from your lips.

His warmth enveloped you, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the sweet tang of the gummies you were eating. You quickly dissolved into giggles at his playful actions, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso in a protective embrace. His presence was a comforting weight, grounding you both in this shared moment of intimacy.

The world outside the studio walls faded away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in a bubble of tranquility. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, a rhythmic reminder of his presence. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his back, offering silent reassurance as he melted into your embrace. This was your sanctuary, a haven where exhaustion and stress gave way to love and connection, a beautifully ordinary moment made extraordinary by the simple act of being together.

“Break time?” you asked softly, your voice a gentle melody in the quiet room. Chan responded with a low grunt, his exhaustion evident in the simplicity of his reply. A light giggle escaped your lips, the sound a soft, comforting echo in the studio.

Reaching up, your fingers threaded through the strands of his hair, finding their way to the back of his head. With practiced ease, you began to scratch gently, your touch tender and soothing. Almost immediately, a contented hum rumbled from his chest, a sound that spoke of deep appreciation and relief.

His eyes fluttered closed, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away under your gentle ministrations. You could feel the subtle shifts in his posture, each exhalation a testament to the comfort he found in your presence. This simple act, a small gesture of care, held a profound intimacy that words could not capture.

The room seemed to cocoon you both, the dim light casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. Each scratch of your fingers was a lullaby, a tender reminder of the bond you shared. In this moment, amidst the ambient hum of the studio and the quiet hum of his contentment, time seemed to slow, allowing you to savor the tranquility of your connection.

His breathing deepened, a silent testament to the trust he placed in you, and you continued your gentle caress, your heart swelling with affection. This was your sanctuary, a place where words were unnecessary, and the simple act of touch spoke volumes.

After a while, you were almost surprised to hear him speak. His voice broke the silence, soft and drowsy, since you had been convinced he had fallen asleep on top of you.

His breathing had slowed, and his weight had settled comfortably against you, creating a warm, enveloping cocoon. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours had lulled you into a tranquil state, where the world outside seemed a distant memory.

“Good day today?” he murmured, his words a tender vibration against your skin. The question carried a quiet intimacy, a bridge between the waking world and the serene bubble you both inhabited.

You blinked, the unexpectedness of his voice pulling you from your reverie. A smile curled at your lips as you looked down at him, your fingers stilling momentarily in his hair. The soft light from the studio cast a gentle glow on his face, highlighting the subtle lines of fatigue that framed his eyes.

“It was alright,” you answered with a weak shrug, your eyes remaining fixed on the ceiling. The subtle patterns in the plaster seemed to shift and dance as you reveled in the closeness between the two of you, his warmth a comforting presence against your body.

As you lay there, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift, the quiet intimacy of the moment creating a sanctuary from the world outside. The soft rise and fall of his breathing against you was a soothing rhythm, grounding you in the present.

“I mostly kept to myself today,” you continued, your voice a soft murmur in the tranquil room. “It just felt like such a long day for some reason.”

Your words hung in the air, a quiet confession that carried the weariness of the hours you had endured. Each moment of solitude, each minute that had dragged on, seemed to dissipate now in the comforting embrace of his presence.

Chan shifted, adjusting his position to place his weight on his forearms, which were now on either side of your head. This allowed him to lean back slightly, creating just enough space to gaze down at your face. The closeness of his presence, combined with the tenderness in his eyes, sent a flutter through your heart.

The dim light of the studio cast gentle shadows across his features, softening the lines of exhaustion and highlighting the quiet strength in his expression. His gaze held a mixture of empathy and understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the weariness you both shared.

“It really did feel like an unnecessarily long day for me, too,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that resonated in the small space between you. The words carried a weight of shared experience, a bond forged through mutual understanding and silent support.

His eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the subtle nuances of your expression. You could feel the connection between you deepening, each unspoken thought and emotion passing effortlessly between you. His proximity, the warmth of his body, and the gentle cadence of his words created a cocoon of intimacy that enveloped you both.

As you looked up at him, you could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a mirror to your own feelings. The shared acknowledgment of the day's trials brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

The room seemed to fade into the background, the ambient sounds of the studio becoming a distant hum. All that mattered in this moment was the quiet exchange between you, a sanctuary of understanding and support. His presence, so close and so tender, was a balm to the fatigue that had weighed heavily on you both throughout the day.

You reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection. His eyes softened even further, and a small, grateful smile played at the corners of his lips. In this moment, the long day seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of your connection and the promise of shared solace.

The hand that had been tenderly scratching his hair now shifted to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the delicate curve of his jaw. The touch was gentle, filled with a warmth that only deepened the connection between you. Chan immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the contact, a soft smile gracing his lips.

His skin felt warm against your palm, and you could sense the quiet gratitude in the way he pressed closer, finding comfort in the simple gesture. The room around you seemed to hold its breath, the ambient hum of the studio fading into the background as the moment stretched between you.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Chan leaned down, his breath mingling with yours in the intimate space. His eyes met yours for a fleeting second, a silent exchange of affection and understanding, before he pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead. The contact was tender, imbued with a sweetness that made your heart swell.

As his lips brushed your skin, your eyes fluttered closed, the world around you dissolving into a haze of warmth and closeness. The kiss lingered, a silent promise of care and support that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. You could feel the soft exhalation of his breath, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the unspoken words that filled the space between you.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity of quiet connection. Your senses were heightened, every detail of the moment imprinted in your memory—the gentle pressure of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the soothing cadence of his presence. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a sanctuary of love and understanding that transcended the weariness of the day.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a gaze that spoke volumes. There was a softness there, a tenderness that mirrored your own feelings, and in that shared look, you found a renewed sense of strength and comfort. The weight of the day seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the promise of more moments like this, filled with love and quiet understanding.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper that seemed to reverberate through the quiet studio. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, seeking solace in the warmth and familiarity of your embrace. His breath, warm and steady, brushed against your skin, sending a shiver of tenderness down your spine.

You could feel the sincerity in his words, each syllable carrying the weight of his longing and affection. The closeness of his body against yours, the way he nestled into you as if finding his way home, spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings. It was a quiet confession, one that wrapped around your heart and made it swell with love.

“All I could do was watch the time until you finally joined me here,” he continued, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to melt into the air around you. His words painted a vivid picture of his anticipation, the minutes and hours stretching out endlessly as he waited for the moment you would walk through the door.

The imagery of his longing played in your mind, each tick of the clock echoing his silent wish for your presence. You imagined him glancing at the time, his thoughts drifting to you with each passing minute, the studio filled with the hum of his work yet missing the comforting presence that only you could bring.

Your hand moved to gently stroke his hair, your fingers weaving through the soft strands as you offered silent reassurance. The tactile connection was a balm to both your souls, a physical manifestation of the love that flowed between you. His body relaxed further into yours, the tension of the day gradually melting away as he found peace in your embrace.

The room around you seemed to fade into the background, the dim light casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls. It was as if the world had shrunk to encompass only the two of you, a cocoon of intimacy where time moved at its own pace. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against yours, created a symphony of togetherness that filled the space with warmth and connection.

As you held him, your heart echoed his sentiments. The hours apart had felt like a lifetime, each moment tinged with the anticipation of being reunited. Now, in the quiet sanctity of the studio, you reveled in the simple joy of being close, of sharing the same breath and heartbeat. This was your haven, a place where love and longing intertwined, creating a tapestry of moments that were as beautiful as they were fleeting.

A blush crept onto your cheeks, a rosy bloom spreading warmth through your skin as his words settled in your heart. Your smile widened, a reflection of the joy and affection that welled up within you. As Chan leaned back to face you once more, his eyes met yours with a gaze that spoke of longing and love.

Without hesitation, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss, the movement swift and eager. The initial touch was tender, a sweet brush of connection, but almost unconsciously, you found yourself deepening the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, the boundaries of the studio fading into insignificance as you lost yourself in the moment.

Chan responded with equal passion, his lips moving against yours in a dance of fervor and intimacy. Each kiss, each caress, was a silent declaration of the emotions that words could not fully convey. The heat of the kiss ignited a spark that spread through your veins, a fiery rush of desire and affection that left you breathless.

As your lips melded together, you could feel his fingers busying themselves, threading through your hair with gentle yet deliberate movements. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, each touch a soothing balm and an electric thrill all at once. His fingertips traced patterns along your scalp, weaving through the strands of your hair in a tender, almost reverent manner.

The kiss deepened further, your senses heightening with every passing second. You could taste the lingering sweetness of his breath, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the faint rustle of clothing as you both shifted closer. The world outside ceased to exist, the only reality the intoxicating blend of your shared breaths and the soft hum of the studio in the background.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment expanding to hold the fullness of your connection. Your heart raced, its beat a rhythmic echo of the passion that thrummed between you. The kiss was a symphony of emotions, a harmonious blend of love, desire, and an unspoken promise of togetherness.

Just as the kiss began to deepen, an unexpected sound shattered the moment—the door creaking open with an almost comical slowness. The intrusion was abrupt, and both of you were startled from your intimate cocoon. Chan, reacting instinctively, tried to detach himself from you with haste, his sudden movement sending him rolling off the couch.

The transition was less than graceful; he landed rather harshly on the floor beside you, the impact eliciting a low groan from him. He grimaced, immediately starting to rub his lower back in an attempt to soothe the jolt of pain from the fall. The couch, once a haven of warmth and affection, now stood empty and slightly disheveled, a testament to the sudden disruption.

Your eyes shifted to the doorway, where Jisung stood frozen for a split second, his own eyes wide with shock at the scene before him. The surprise in his expression was fleeting, quickly giving way to a playful smirk. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze dancing with mischievous amusement.

The contrast between the intense moment you had shared and the lightheartedness of Jisung's entrance was jarring. As the initial surprise subsided, the atmosphere shifted from one of intimate connection to one of awkward hilarity. The room, now filled with the soft chuckles of Jisung and the embarrassed, lingering blush on your cheeks, felt distinctly different.

You and Chan exchanged glances, your faces flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Chan’s attempt to regain composure while still rubbing his sore back added to the scene’s comedic effect. In the midst of the disruption, the warmth of the moment seemed to dissipate, replaced by the easy camaraderie of Jisung’s teasing presence.

“I can come back later,” Jisung said, his voice carrying an unmistakable hint of playful suggestion. The words lingered in the air, charged with an amused undertone that made it clear he was fully aware of the scene he had just interrupted.

You responded with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, a playful gesture that contrasted sharply with the initial embarrassment. Your smile, though slightly flushed, held a warmth of shared amusement. The gesture was both a dismissal of the teasing and a silent acknowledgment of the lighthearted banter Jisung was introducing.

Chan, still seated on the floor, let out a soft scoff, the sound a mixture of mild frustration and reluctant humor. His expression, though slightly exasperated, softened as he met Jisung’s teasing gaze. The contrast between the seriousness of the moment and the levity Jisung brought was palpable, and Chan’s reaction spoke to the blend of embarrassment and begrudging acceptance of the interruption.

“Did you need something?” Chan inquired, his voice a mixture of curiosity and residual embarrassment as he pushed himself up from the floor. With a slight wince and a careful stretch, he made his way back to his chair, resettling into the spot he had vacated moments before.

Jisung stepped into the studio, his presence marked by the purposeful stride and the iPad clutched in his hand. He took a seat in one of the empty chairs, his movements deliberate and focused, a contrast to the playful banter that had just filled the room. The iPad, held like a cherished artifact, seemed to hum with the promise of creative endeavor.

“Yeah,” Jisung began, his tone shifting from teasing to serious. The change was palpable, and the lightness that had accompanied his entrance melted away, replaced by a more earnest demeanor. He glanced down at the device in his hands, the weight of his words evident in the subtle tension of his posture.

“I just finished writing this song,” he continued, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. “I thought I might ask you for some feedback.” His gaze met Chan’s with a mix of anticipation and concern. “I’m struggling to find the melody for it, though.”

The request hung in the air, a testament to Jisung’s dedication and the challenge he faced. The room, once charged with the intimacy of your earlier exchange, now buzzed with the promise of collaboration and the earnest pursuit of creative refinement. Chan’s expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration, his earlier amusement giving way to the focused attention that Jisung’s request deserved.

As Chan prepared to listen, the studio seemed to take on a new energy, one of shared purpose and artistic exploration. The casual comfort of the space, with its soft lighting and the scattered remnants of your earlier moment, now became a haven for the exchange of creative ideas and constructive feedback.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

The only sounds that punctuated the tranquil evening were the soft clinks of ceramic and glass as they met and departed in gentle harmony. Minho's hands moved deftly in the soapy water, each dish emerging clean from the frothy embrace of the sink. He would pass the polished plates and gleaming utensils to you with practiced ease, and you would then guide them through a final rinse, the clear water cascading over them like a delicate waterfall.

This rhythmic dance of choreographed movements unfolded in a serene cocoon of silence, where each clink and splash became a soothing symphony of domestic tranquility. The dim light from the overhead fixture cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You leaned closer, resting your head lightly upon Minho’s shoulder, finding solace in the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. The simple act of watching him, so absorbed in his task, filled you with a deep sense of contentment. The harmony of your shared routine seemed to weave a thread of comfort through the evening, binding you both in a quiet, unspoken connection.

Minho had prepared a sumptuous feast, each dish a testament to his culinary prowess. The table was adorned with a vibrant spread of delectable creations, each plate a masterpiece in its own right. As the meal began, the room was alive with a symphony of laughter and lively chatter, the air thick with the aroma of spices and savory delights. The members gathered around, their faces illuminated by the warm light of the overhead lamp, their voices weaving a tapestry of animated conversations.

But now, as the final morsels were savored and the last sips of wine enjoyed, a tranquil silence had settled over the room. The clamor of exuberant laughter had given way to a peaceful hush, the once-bustling table now a haven of contented quiet. The lingering scents of the meal mingled with the soft hum of satisfaction, creating an atmosphere of serene afterglow. Everyone leaned back in their chairs, basking in the lingering warmth of good food and even better company.

The plan had been simple and straightforward: you would take on the task of washing the dishes while Minho, who had diligently prepared the meal, would enjoy a well-deserved rest. Yet Minho, with his unwavering determination, had other ideas. His refusal to let you tackle the chore alone was as steadfast as it was endearing.

With a warm, insistent smile, Minho proposed that you both share the task, transforming the mundane chore into a collaborative effort. His eyes sparkled with a mix of stubbornness and affection, a look that left little room for argument. Despite your initial reluctance and the mild exasperation that accompanied it, you found yourself yielding to his gentle insistence.

The prospect of working side by side, immersed in the rhythmic clinks of plates and the soothing warmth of soapy water, began to take on a new charm. Minho’s determination to be your partner in this small yet significant task softened your resistance, allowing you to embrace the shared experience with a touch of reluctant but genuine fondness.

As Minho passed you the final cup he had washed, the delicate glass cool and smooth in your hands, he turned his attention to rinsing his own hands. The kitchen was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the overhead light, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room. He dried his hands with a kitchen towel, the fabric absorbing the last traces of moisture with a quiet efficiency.

Watching you with a tender gaze, his sharp features softened into an expression of serene affection. The contrast of his usual intensity with this gentle demeanor created a moment of profound intimacy. As you felt the lightest brush of his lips on the crown of your head, a shy smile unfurled on your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the warmth and closeness between you.

After you had finished rinsing the last cup, Minho reached out, offering you the towel he had used. The gesture, simple yet laden with care, spoke volumes of his desire to share this small, endearing ritual. His touch lingered with a quiet intimacy, as if the act of handing you the towel was another way of weaving a thread of connection into the fabric of your shared evening.

"Dinner was delicious, as always, my love," you murmured with a contented sigh, letting the kitchen towel slip from your fingers and fall gently to the floor. You moved closer, enfolding him in a tender embrace. Your arms wrapped around his lean torso, drawing him into the warmth of your affection.

Resting your chin on his chest, you tilted your head upwards to gaze at him with adoration. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek provided a soothing backdrop to your heartfelt gratitude. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress against the quiet of the evening. In that moment, the simple act of holding each other spoke volumes, a silent testament to the depth of your shared love and appreciation.

A playful twinkle sparkled in his eyes as he looked at you, his smile radiating warmth and affection. His fingers, gentle and reassuring, wove through your hair with a tender touch, as if savoring the moment of closeness.

"I’m glad you enjoyed the meal," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against the quiet. The sincerity of his words was mirrored in the affectionate way he stroked your hair, his touch both soothing and intimate. In that shared, tranquil moment, his gaze and gentle gestures spoke volumes about the care and joy he found in seeing you content.

What began as a fleeting, tender kiss on your cheek had swiftly transformed into a fervent embrace of lips. The gentle touch of his lips ignited a spark, leading to a passionate kiss where your tongues engaged in their well-practiced dance, exploring and intertwining with a fluid grace.

His hands cradled your face with an exquisite tenderness, as though he feared that any more pressure might shatter the delicate connection between you. The way his fingers caressed your cheeks, with such gentle reverence, conveyed a deep sense of reverence and care. Each touch seemed to convey an unspoken promise, a silent pledge to cherish and protect the fragile beauty of the moment.

“Oh—!” A sudden, startled yelp pierced the air, shattering the intimate bubble that had enveloped you and Minho. Heads whipped around in unison to find Yongbok standing at the kitchen entrance, his expression a mix of surprise and awkward hesitation.

He lingered at the threshold, caught between the decision to either step into the room or retreat to the safety of the living room. His stance, poised mid-step with uncertainty written across his face, underscored the unexpected intrusion into what had been a moment of tender privacy.

"Ah," Minho exhaled with a playful whine, his head tilting to the side as if weighed down by exaggerated exasperation. He squeezed his eyes shut, the corners of his mouth curving into a mock frown that was both endearing and dramatic.

"I can’t seem to have a moment of solitude in here," he lamented, his tone laced with a humorous undertone. The theatrics of his gesture and the melodramatic sigh added a layer of lightheartedness to the interruption, making his feigned annoyance all the more charming.

A deep blush colored Yongbok’s cheeks as he bowed his head slightly, offering a silent apology that spoke volumes. His embarrassment was palpable, yet he moved with a purposeful grace, stepping into the kitchen with a mix of shyness and determination.

He made a beeline for the freezer, his movements quick and somewhat furtive. With a swift motion, he retrieved a brand new tub of ice cream, the cool container a stark contrast to the warmth of his cheeks. As he slipped back toward the door, his voice broke through the quiet with an embarrassed yet earnest, “Sorry!” His hasty retreat, accompanied by the muffled sound of the freezer closing, left a lingering trace of his red-faced mortification.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unfolding scene, the sound a soft ripple of amusement in the otherwise quiet room. Your hands gently rested on Minho’s biceps, feeling the subtle strength beneath his shirt as you turned to face him once more.

Minho was already gazing at you with a look that combined mischief and amusement, his eyes sparkling with a playful light that drew you in. The sight of his tender, yet mischievous expression made your heart flutter, an involuntary blush creeping across your cheeks. The warmth of your blush contrasted with the coolness of the evening, adding a delightful layer to the already enchanting moment.

“Should I escort everyone who doesn’t reside here out?” Minho mused aloud, his index finger tapping thoughtfully against his chin. The gesture was deliberate, a small ritual of contemplation as he considered the crowded scene around him.

He sighed softly, his gaze drifting towards you with a mix of longing and humor. “I’d really appreciate a moment of solitude with my lover,” he continued, his voice tinged with playful exasperation. The desire for privacy was clear in his words, a heartfelt wish for a brief respite from the throng of people that seemed to encircle you both.

Your cheeks flushed deeper at his remark, the warmth of your blush spreading as you playfully slapped his chest with a gentle, teasing motion. “No, I actually enjoy having them here,” you replied, your voice carrying a soft, affectionate tone.

Minho’s reaction was swift and dramatic—he pouted, a look of mock offense crossing his features. His expression was almost comically wounded, adding a layer of endearing charm to his demeanor. “You love them here, too,” he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of playful reproach. “We don’t get many chances to spend time like this, surrounded by everyone we care about.” His words carried a mix of sincerity and affection, highlighting the rare and cherished moments of togetherness amidst the lively company.

Though Minho recognized the truth in your words, he couldn’t resist the dramatic flair of throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of exasperation. The gesture was both theatrical and endearing, a playful prelude to the amused smile that soon graced his lips as he turned back to face you.

With a gentle peck on your forehead, his affection was palpable and tender, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes. Minho then shifted slightly, subtly encouraging you to step back and make room for him to maneuver. Together, you both ventured back into the living room, where the lively banter of the other members filled the air. Their animated debate over which movie to watch created a backdrop of joyful chaos, adding a touch of familiar, comfortable noise to the evening’s unfolding scenes.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

As you stepped into the familiar confines of the gym, the echo of your footsteps reverberated through the empty space. The dim lighting cast a soft glow on the rows of pristine equipment, all neatly aligned yet untouched, giving the place an almost ethereal quality. It was a sanctuary of solitude, the usual clamor replaced by a serene silence, the gym technically closed to the public. But Changbin, with his special privileges, had always been an exception.

Changbin's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he turned to you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "What are you going to be working on today?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet brimming with enthusiasm.

You took a moment, savoring the tranquility, before taking a swift sip from your water bottle. "Today, I’ll focus on my arms and chest," you replied, your voice steady and resolute. "But I’m starting with cardio."

Changbin nodded, his expression one of approval and understanding. Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss onto your cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering like a delicate whisper. He then gently nudged you towards the treadmill, his touch both encouraging and affectionate. "Today's leg day for me," he declared with a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with determination.

As you began your workout, the rhythmic hum of the treadmill filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft rustle of your movements. The gym, though silent and still, seemed to come alive with the shared energy and quiet companionship, a testament to the unspoken bond you and Changbin cherished.

Just like that, you both found yourselves immersed in your own worlds, each movement and breath synchronizing with the rhythm of your workouts. The gym seemed to fade away, leaving only the steady cadence of your heartbeats and the pulsating energy of your exertion. 

Your large headphones enveloped your ears, cocooning you in a bubble of high-energy music. Each song, meticulously selected for its invigorating beat, propelled you forward, every stride on the treadmill matching the tempo of the powerful tunes. The music was your fuel, igniting your determination and driving you through each passing minute.

Meanwhile, Changbin was equally engrossed in his routine, his focus unwavering as he pushed through the burn of leg day. The clang of weights and the soft thud of his movements created a rhythm of their own, a testament to his dedication and strength. 

When the thirty minutes finally elapsed, you both reconvened, seeking each other's presence for a much-needed respite. Your breath came in shallow pants, the exertion evident in the slight sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. The treadmill had tested your endurance, leaving you flushed and glowing with the heat of your efforts.

Changbin, too, bore the marks of his intense workout. His face was flushed, and beads of perspiration trickled down his temples. He lifted his water bottle, tilting it back to down a generous portion of the cool liquid, the refreshing sensation bringing a momentary relief from the heat. 

As you caught your breath, the shared silence was comforting, a mutual understanding that needed no words. The gym, still hushed and serene, felt like a haven where both of you could push your limits and find solace in each other’s presence.

"I was watching you while you were running," Changbin remarked after wiping his mouth, his tone carrying a playful edge that made you smirk. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and mischief as he continued, "You look so good, it’s not even remotely funny or fair."

You couldn't help but scoff, rolling your eyes at him, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Stepping closer to your boyfriend, you felt a surge of affection. The scent of his cologne mingled with the fresh, clean aroma of the gym, creating an intimate bubble around you both.

In one swift motion, you captured his lips with yours, the kiss light and teasing. You giggled, delighting in the surprised look on his face as you pulled away before he had a chance to react. His pout was adorable, a mixture of mock annoyance and genuine desire.

Not one to be outdone, Changbin leaned down, closing the distance between you. His lips found yours again, this time more firmly, conveying a deeper passion and a hint of possessiveness. The kiss was a promise, a silent affirmation of his feelings, and you responded in kind, melting into the moment.

The gym, with its quiet solitude and dim lighting, faded into the background. All that mattered was the connection between you two, the electricity in the air as your lips met and parted. It was a stolen moment of tenderness and playfulness, a testament to the unique bond you shared.

As you should have expected, Changbin wasted no time in reaching up to cradle your face, his fingers tender yet firm against your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and his intent was clear: he wanted to deepen the kiss, to lose himself in the moment with you.

The world seemed to fade away as his lips moved against yours, each touch a testament to his longing. However, before the kiss could escalate, a sudden, sharp sound shattered the tranquility. The door banged open with a loud thud, startling you both apart, your hearts pounding not just from the exertion but from the abrupt interruption.

You and Changbin turned simultaneously, eyes wide with surprise and a hint of annoyance, to find Jeongin standing by the door. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he took in the scene.

"I'm sorry," Jeongin began, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't know you guys would need some time—"

He hesitated, glancing between you and Changbin, the awkwardness of the situation apparent. The silence stretched for a moment, thick with unspoken words and the remnants of the interrupted kiss.

Jeongin's smile turned a bit more genuine as he added, "I can give you five minutes to finish, though."

The jab had you cackling, the sound echoing through the gym. Changbin, however, feigned offense, playfully yelling, "Hey! I can last a hell of a lot longer than some measly five minutes!" He huffed dramatically, his pout exaggerated to drive home the point. Jeongin laughed, shaking his head slightly, amused by the spectacle.

"What are you even doing here?" Changbin asked after a beat of silence, curiosity piqued.

Jeongin cocked his head to the side, his expression almost puzzled. "You…we agreed I’d meet you here tonight to work out…" His words trailed off, the memory slowly dawning on him as he spoke.

As if struck by sudden realization, Changbin gasped theatrically, slapping his palm against his forehead. "That’s right! I’m sorry, come in." His apology was earnest, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and amusement.

"Oh, I’d rather not be a third wheel, thank you very much," Jeongin teased, a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes at him, unable to suppress a smile. The banter was light-hearted, a testament to the easy camaraderie between you all.

Changbin, on the other hand, wasn't about to let his friend off the hook that easily. "Oh, no you don’t!" he called out, his voice booming through the gym. He rushed forward, grabbing Jeongin by the shirt as he attempted to leave, pulling him back into the gym with surprising strength.

Jeongin's protests were half-hearted, more amused than anything else. The scene was almost comical, the gym’s solemnity broken by your laughter and the playful antics of your friends. It was a moment of shared joy, a reminder of the bonds that held you together even in the most mundane of settings.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

You whine softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you press your hand against Hyunjin's forehead to push him away. His persistence is unwavering, though, and he keeps returning with puckered lips and mischievous eyes that sparkle with playful intent. The soft glow of the television casts a warm hue over the room, illuminating his features and accentuating the twinkle in his eyes.

For quite some time now, Hyunjin had been trying to capture your lips with his own, his attempts at stealing kisses becoming increasingly daring. Yet, your focus remained steadfast on the movie playing on the screen. The film’s storyline had finally ensnared your attention, and for once, you wanted to see it through without distractions. You couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, knowing how much Hyunjin craved these intimate moments, but the timing just didn't feel right.

Besides, the living room of the apartment he shared with his roommate, Changbin, didn’t seem like the ideal setting for such affection. The thought of indulging in romantic gestures here, even with the knowledge that Changbin was away at the gym, felt unsettling. The echo of his presence lingered in the air, and the mere idea of it dulled the allure of Hyunjin's advances. The movie provided a convenient shield, a reason to resist the pull of his playful charm, as you both sat close yet worlds apart on the couch.

"Come on," Hyunjin complained, his voice tinged with a playful whine as he pouted, his lips forming a perfect, exaggerated curve. The sight of him like this, with his bottom lip jutting out and his eyes wide with mock disappointment, sent a ripple of amusement through you. Unable to suppress a giggle, you found his expression irresistibly adorable, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Just a little bit, and then I'll leave you alone," he pleaded, his tone a mixture of enticement and surrender. His persistence was endearing, a testament to his desire for your attention and affection. You sighed theatrically, rolling your eyes with feigned exasperation at his dramatic antics, yet a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Hyunjin's charm was a force to be reckoned with, and even in moments like these, he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

"The movie is almost done," you stated, glancing at the television screen and pointing with the remote in your hand. The film's climax was nearing, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and relief. "Once the movie is done, I'm all yours — fair?" Your words hung in the air, a promise of undivided attention once the credits rolled. 

Hyunjin huffed in playful defeat, his breath escaping in a soft, theatrical exhale. With a resigned nod, he agreed, then settled himself comfortably on the couch, laying his head on your lap while his feet dangled off the armrest. The weight of his head on your thighs felt familiar and comforting. A chuckle escaped your lips as you unpaused the movie, your fingers instinctively weaving through his long, silken hair, the strands slipping like liquid gold between your fingertips.

There was something endearing about Hyunjin's behavior, how he could be so clingy and needy despite his usual claims of not being a fan of physical affection. It amused you endlessly, this dichotomy of his personality, and you couldn't help but smile at the contrast. His presence was a delightful distraction, one that added a layer of warmth and intimacy to the moment.

As the movie continued to play, you found yourself getting drawn back into the plot, though not without the occasional commentary meant to elicit laughter from Hyunjin. Your whispered remarks and shared giggles created a cozy cocoon of companionship, the outside world fading away as you reveled in the simple pleasure of being together. Each touch, each laugh, each whispered word added another stitch to the tapestry of your shared moments, weaving a bond that felt unbreakable.

When the movie finally came to an end, you barely had a moment to register the closing credits before Hyunjin practically launched himself at you, his lithe form straddling your lap with an impish grin lighting up his face. His eyes sparkled with a playful mischief, and without warning, he began to pepper your face and neck with a flurry of kisses. Each feather-light touch sent delightful shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but giggle loudly, the sound filling the room with infectious joy.

Despite your best efforts to push him away, your attempts were half-hearted at best, your resolve weakened by the sheer delight of his affectionate onslaught. Hyunjin, ever the tease, quickly caught your wrists in his grasp, pinning them securely to his lap. His grip was firm yet gentle, and his eyes danced with laughter as he resumed his barrage of kisses. The sensation of his lips against your skin, warm and insistent, left you breathless and giddy.

You wriggled and squirmed beneath him, your laughter rising in pitch as you became a squealing, giggling mess. The room seemed to blur around you, the only clarity being the closeness of Hyunjin, the feel of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of his laughter mingling with your own. His kisses were relentless, each one a playful declaration of his affection, and no amount of squirming seemed to deter him.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only you and Hyunjin, caught in a whirlwind of shared laughter and tender kisses. Your attempts at defense were futile, each wriggle and squeal only serving to encourage him further. Yet, beneath the playful struggle, there was a profound sense of happiness, a blissful contentment that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

Lost in your own bubble of joy and affection, neither of you noticed when Changbin returned from the gym. He stood silently by the doorway, his phone poised in front of his face, capturing the endearing chaos unfolding before him. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he recorded the scene, amused by the playful display of intimacy.

It was only when you turned your head and caught sight of him that a startled yelp escaped your lips. The sound jolted Hyunjin from his revelry, his expression shifting from delight to confusion. "Hey! What are you doing? Are you filming?" you asked with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. The sudden shift in your tone finally alerted Hyunjin to his roommate’s presence.

Changbin’s boisterous laughter erupted, filling the space with a rich, hearty sound. He quickly turned off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, but not before Hyunjin had leapt from your lap, his face a mix of mock outrage and concern. “That’s an invasion of privacy!” Hyunjin declared with exaggerated drama, his voice ringing through the room.

Your laughter mingled with Changbin’s as you shot Hyunjin a teasing look. “Baby, we’re in the living room. This is not a private space for you to be saying that.” Hyunjin’s face fell into a pout, his lower lip jutting out as he glanced at you. 

“Whose side are you on, huh?” he asked, a playful edge to his tone.

Changbin, clearly entertained by the bickering, shook his head with a chuckle as he turned and made his way towards his bedroom. His amusement lingered in the air, a lighthearted reminder of the everyday warmth and camaraderie that filled the apartment. The door closed softly behind him, leaving you and Hyunjin to continue your playful exchange, the echo of laughter still dancing in the room.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @stayconnecteed @ihrtlix @unabasheddeanrebellover-blog @zerefdragn33l @bakugohoex @pixiiebutt @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @minszn @telemarcs @hannieslovebot @d-chagi @iambangchanswife @j1998v @oc3anfloor @minminmoew @tajannah-price1

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: Posted!

💋 CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 62 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Will be split into HYUNG LINE and MAKNAE LINE! This was anonymously requested! Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member except for Felix, Reader is a brat in Seungmin's piece, Seungmin's part is also kinda suggestive but nothing too serious.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

can i please have channie taking care of reader during her period? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hey lovely! It took me a little bit longer than I expected BUT I hope I delivered! Thank you so much for the request! ── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

📺 SAFE HAVEN 📺

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 1.6k

📷 STILL FRAMES ( stray kids )

❛ After fainting during a photography class outing, you're tenderly cared for by a seemingly cold classmate, Seungmin, leading to an unexpected and heartwarming connection between the two of you.

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 30 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was written and completed a few months ago, but I recently found it and decided to share it with you guys! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Descriptions of being overheated, anxiety, and fainting, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

The summer sun blazed with an intensity that bordered on cruelty, its golden rays casting a relentless furnace upon the cityscape. The air shimmered with the heat, every street and alley seemingly wincing under the oppressive glare. The heavens above were a fierce, unyielding expanse of cerulean, devoid of mercy or shade.

Amidst this searing trial, you navigated the urban labyrinth, your every step a testament to perseverance. Your digital camera, a faithful companion clutched in your hand, was your shield against the unrelenting heat. It was your instrument for capturing moments of beauty amid the starkness of summer’s tyranny.

As you trailed behind your classmates, each one a silhouette against the blistering backdrop, your gaze flitted with restless anticipation. You wandered through the city streets, your eyes seeking fragments of inspiration to breathe life into your assignment. The buildings rose around you like silent, stoic sentinels, their facades glistening with a harsh, metallic sheen. In the shimmering distance, you hoped for the elusive spark that would transform the mundane into something extraordinary.

The chatter of your classmates had long faded into a mere whisper, a distant hum that barely registered in the periphery of your consciousness. Conversations ebbed and flowed like an unremarkable current, a symphony of voices blending into a soft, indistinguishable murmur. Yet, this isolation was not an anomaly but a chosen retreat, a familiar haven you embraced with quiet contentment.

Surrounded by the bustling dynamics of camaraderie and friendship, you stood apart, an island of introspection amidst a sea of social engagement. It wasn't that you were unfriendly or aloof; your laughter often mingled with theirs, your voice joining the chorus of shared jokes and light-hearted banter before and after the structured rhythm of class. But when the subject turned to the art that captivated your soul, a transformation occurred.

Photography, to you, was not just a hobby but a profound and passionate pursuit. It demanded your full attention, a devotion that bordered on reverence. Your camera was not merely a tool but an extension of your vision, a conduit through which you sought to capture the world’s hidden beauty. The play of light and shadow, the fleeting expressions on faces, the intricate details of everyday objects—all of these were fragments of a larger, more intricate tapestry that you sought to weave with each click of the shutter.

In those moments, the world around you faded into soft focus, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your art. The bonds of friendship, though cherished, were momentarily set aside, replaced by a singular concentration that sharpened your senses and heightened your awareness. This solitary journey through the realm of photography was your sanctuary, a place where you found solace and inspiration in equal measure.

The only other person in this class who might share your penchant for solitude was Kim Seungmin. He, too, seemed to navigate the world with an air of quiet detachment. Yet, there were differences in how each of you manifested this introversion. While you made a concerted effort to connect with those around you—engaging in brief conversations and sharing moments of camaraderie when class was not in session—Seungmin was an enigma, a shadow that flitted away the moment the lecture ended.

Seungmin's presence in the classroom was a paradox of visibility and invisibility. He was always the first to arrive, slipping into the room with the quiet grace of dawn's first light. Despite his punctuality, he maintained a palpable distance from the rest of the group, an invisible barrier that set him apart. His demeanor, while not unfriendly, exuded a clear message of preference for solitude.

During the lulls and intermissions, when the classroom would usually be filled with animated discussions and the laughter of budding friendships, Seungmin could be found in a corner, absorbed in his own world. His fingers danced nimbly over his camera, adjusting settings, capturing candid moments, or meticulously reviewing his shots. At other times, he would be engrossed in his phone, the screen's glow reflecting the deep concentration etched on his face.

To you, Seungmin was a mystery, a puzzle wrapped in layers of quiet introspection. There was a certain allure in his aloofness, a silent invitation to unravel the story behind his reserved exterior. Yet, you never dared to cross the unspoken boundary that he had set. His solitary nature, so akin to your own, commanded a respect that you were unwilling to breach.

Seungmin remained a figure of curiosity, a fellow traveler on the path of photographic artistry who chose a parallel yet distinctly separate route. His quiet presence was a reminder of the myriad ways one could navigate the delicate dance between isolation and connection.

Despite his reserved and enigmatic demeanor, Seungmin possessed a rare and extraordinary talent for photography. His artistry behind the lens was nothing short of breathtaking, a fact that did not go unnoticed by anyone, least of all the professor. At the conclusion of each class, a ritual unfolded: the professor would meticulously review everyone's photographs, sifting through the myriad of images to select the ones that stood out the most. Without fail, Seungmin's work consistently earned a place among the top five, a testament to his remarkable skill.

Each of Seungmin's photographs was a revelation, an abstract masterpiece that captured the world through a uniquely creative lens. His ability to see beyond the ordinary and delve into the depths of the abstract added a layer of profound beauty to his images. Where others might see a simple street scene or a mundane object, Seungmin uncovered hidden dimensions and intricate patterns, transforming the mundane into the extraordinary.

His compositions were a symphony of light and shadow, each frame meticulously crafted to evoke emotion and provoke thought. There was an unmistakable depth to his work, a silent narrative that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. The interplay of colors, the juxtaposition of textures, and the harmony of forms all coalesced into visual poetry, each photograph a verse in the grand tapestry of his artistic vision.

The professor, a seasoned connoisseur of photographic art, often marveled at Seungmin's ability to convey such profound beauty through his images. His praise, though sparing, was always effusive when it came to Seungmin's work. "A true artist," he would often muse, holding up one of Seungmin's photos for the class to admire. "His eye for detail and his innovative approach are truly remarkable."

Seungmin's talent was unmistakable, a beacon of brilliance that shone through the veil of his quiet, self-imposed solitude. Each photograph was a testament to his exceptional ability to capture the essence of the world around him, a gift that set him apart and elevated him to the ranks of the truly gifted. In his hands, the camera became not just a tool but a portal to a realm of infinite beauty and wonder.

The dryness in your mouth abruptly pulled you from the intricate web of thoughts weaving around your enigmatic classmate, who now lingered at the back of the group, his camera poised to capture yet another fleeting moment. The parched sensation nagged at you, growing more insistent with each passing second. You reluctantly tore your gaze away from Seungmin, reaching into your backpack in search of your water bottle.

As your fingers fumbled through the contents of your bag, your eyes remained vigilant, scanning your surroundings to ensure you wouldn’t stumble over any unexpected obstacles. The bustling city around you was a blur of movement and color, but you couldn’t afford to let your guard down, not even for a moment.

Finally, your hand closed around the cool plastic of your water bottle. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Your heart skipped a beat when you unscrewed the cap and peered inside, only to find a single, solitary sip left. The realization that your meager supply of water was almost depleted sent a ripple of anxiety through your chest. The class was far from over, and the sweltering heat showed no signs of relenting.

A wave of apprehension washed over you, prickling at your chest like tiny, invisible needles. You finished the last sip, the tepid water doing little to quench your thirst, and tried to steady your racing thoughts. With a shaky breath, you reassured yourself that you could endure the remaining time. Surely, there would be a place nearby where you could refill your bottle.

Determined not to let the anxiety take hold, you pressed on, reminding yourself that the city was vast and filled with countless opportunities. Somewhere among the winding streets and towering buildings, an oasis of hydration awaited. All you had to do was stay focused and keep an eye out for that small but vital reprieve.

The merciless sun, as if sensing your growing anxiety, seemed to blaze even hotter, its relentless rays wrapping you in a suffocating embrace. Beads of sweat clung to your skin in a sticky shimmer, making each movement feel laborious and sluggish. Despite the discomfort, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. Your eyes roamed the cityscape, seeking inspiration amidst the familiar charm of the urban sprawl.

You recalled the instructions given by your professor before the class set out on this journey. Find something that has two textures that contrast each other, and find a way to make them complement each other in your photo. It seemed a simple enough directive, especially considering the rich tapestry of your surroundings. Yet, the sun's unyielding assault made concentration an arduous endeavor.

As you navigated the bustling streets, your gaze flitted over the varied textures that adorned the city. Rough, weathered brick walls stood in stark contrast to the sleek, reflective surfaces of modern glass buildings. The interplay between the old and the new, the rugged and the refined, offered endless possibilities for your photographic assignment. But the oppressive heat made it difficult to hold onto any coherent thought for long.

The thirst that had been barely quenched earlier resurfaced with a vengeance, its gnawing intensity magnified by the knowledge that your water bottle was now empty. Your mouth felt as dry as the arid pavement beneath your feet, and each swallow seemed to scrape against a parched throat. Anxiety prickled at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to overwhelm your resolve.

You scanned the area for potential sources of relief, hoping to spot a fountain, a café, or any place where you could refill your bottle. The city, though familiar, seemed an endless expanse under the punishing sun. Every step felt heavier, the weight of your camera pressing down on you like a leaden reminder of your mission.

Yet, amidst the discomfort and the thirst, you remained determined. You sought the contrasting textures your professor had described, letting your eyes linger on the juxtaposition of smooth marble and rough concrete, or the way a delicate flower pushed through a crack in the asphalt. There was beauty to be found here, even in the harshest of conditions.

With a deep breath, you resolved to keep going, trusting that your perseverance would lead you to both the perfect shot and the much-needed water. The city, with all its contrasts and complexities, held the promise of discovery, if only you could endure a little longer.

"It’s so hot," you vaguely heard a classmate complain, her voice barely cutting through the heavy, sweltering air as she fanned herself with a weary hand. The others nodded in weary agreement, their faces etched with the shared misery of enduring the relentless sun. "We should all go for some ice cream after this," she suggested, a hint of hope sparking briefly in her eyes.

The idea of ice cream, cool and refreshing, was undeniably appealing. Yet, you didn’t dare voice your thoughts. The fear of worsening your situation held your tongue, a silent specter of anxiety that kept you from speaking up. As you glanced around at your classmates, their faces blurred by the heat, a flicker of desperation ignited within you.

You tried to remember if you had informed anyone about your fainting spells, but your mind drew a blank. The memories were elusive, slipping through your mental grasp like water through a sieve. The thought of revealing your vulnerability gnawed at you, and although you knew you should at least ask if anyone had spare water, your anxiety clung to you like a vice, rendering you silent at a moment when you needed help the most.

The world around you seemed to shimmer and waver in the oppressive heat, the vibrant colors of the city dulled by the haze of your growing discomfort. Your throat felt like sandpaper, each breath a laborious effort. The idea of speaking up, of asking for something as simple as water, felt insurmountable. Your classmates, though kind and considerate, seemed distant and unreachable in your moment of need.

Silent, you continued to endure, your thoughts a turbulent mix of desperation and fear. The sun beat down with unwavering intensity, each ray a reminder of your growing thirst and vulnerability. You scanned the faces around you, searching for a flicker of understanding, a sign that someone might notice your distress without you having to voice it.

But no such sign came. The conversations continued, the suggestions of ice cream and relief from the heat weaving through the group like a distant promise. You swallowed dryly, your silence a heavy burden, and resolved to press on. The city held the promise of respite somewhere, and you clung to the hope that you could find it before your strength gave out.

The more you pushed forward, the more acutely aware you became of the blood coursing through your veins. It was as if each heartbeat reverberated in your ears, amplifying the sense of impending dizziness. The city's vibrant energy seemed to swirl around you, the once steady ground beneath your feet now an unpredictable, undulating surface.

As the sensation of spinning grew more intense, you reluctantly allowed yourself to fall behind the group. You sought refuge against the cool, reassuring solidity of a nearby building, leaning against its weathered facade. Taking deep breaths, you tried to steady yourself, inhaling the warm, sun-baked air and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm the storm within.

Your classmates, absorbed in their own artistic quests, continued on without noticing your absence. This anonymity, usually a comfort in your solitary pursuits, now only served to heighten your anxiety. You couldn't blame them for their oversight; it was common for someone to linger behind, captivated by a potential photograph. Still, the reality of being unnoticed in your moment of need felt like an invisible weight pressing down on your chest.

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, hoping it would anchor you in the present moment. The sounds of the city buzzed around you—distant conversations, the hum of traffic, the occasional birdcall—creating a cacophony that both grounded and overwhelmed you.

Opening your eyes, you glanced at the receding forms of your classmates, their laughter and chatter fading into the background. The distance between you and them felt insurmountable, not just in physical space but in the gulf of your unspoken struggle. You pressed your back more firmly against the building, feeling the rough texture of the brick through your thin shirt, a small reminder of the world outside your internal chaos.

You knew you needed to rejoin the group, to press on and complete the assignment, but the dizziness and rising anxiety made the thought of moving almost unbearable. You considered calling out, asking for help, but the words stuck in your throat, trapped by the fear of appearing weak or needy. Instead, you remained silent, hoping that your moment of respite would be enough to regain your composure.

Your body shivered uncontrollably despite the oppressive heat, a strange and unsettling contrast that heightened your sense of unease. The world around you seemed to blur and waver, your vision losing focus at an alarming pace. Each step felt like wading through thick, invisible molasses, and even the simplest movement became a Herculean effort. Despite this, you managed to lower yourself to the sidewalk, the rough pavement a harsh but necessary support.

You concentrate on your breathing, each inhale and exhale a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the here and now. Yet, the ringing in your ears grew louder, a piercing sound that drowned out the city's ambient noise. It was a familiar, dreaded precursor to the fainting spell you knew was imminent, a relentless force poised to take control.

In the midst of this growing chaos, a voice pierced through the din, a lifeline in the swirling haze. "Hey, are you okay?" someone asked, their concern clear even through your muddled senses. The effort to lift your head and identify the speaker was beyond you; the world had narrowed to a tunnel of indistinct shapes and sounds.

You tried to respond, to assure them or perhaps to call for help, but your words dissolved into a string of incoherent babbles. Your tongue felt thick and uncooperative, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts as the darkness edged closer. The last thing you registered was the overwhelming sense of vulnerability, the realization that your body was betraying you in this critical moment.

As the blackness enveloped your consciousness, you felt a profound disconnect from the world around you. The sounds, the heat, the distant figure of your classmate—all faded into a void, leaving you suspended in an abyss of nothingness. The struggle to stay present, to remain in control, slipped through your grasp like sand through your fingers.

In this void, time ceased to have meaning. Seconds or minutes, it was impossible to tell how long you lingered in that state of unconsciousness. The city, with its vibrant life and relentless sun, continued on without you, a stark reminder of your fragile existence.

When you finally awoke, it felt as though you were emerging from a dense fog, your mind struggling to piece together the fragmented reality around you. The disorientation was palpable, each moment stretching as your senses slowly reconnected with the world. Your head rested on someone’s lap, and though he was turned away, his presence was both unfamiliar and comforting in your vulnerable state.

Sounds began to filter through the haze, grounding you further. The low, urgent tone of the voice above you became clearer, barking orders with a mix of authority and concern. "Get some water!" Though you couldn't see who he was addressing, the urgency in his commands cut through the remnants of your confusion.

As your awareness sharpened, you noticed your arms were held aloft above your head. This small detail triggered a memory from your past, a practice you had shared with others in case your lips ever turned blue—a sign of your body’s desperate need for oxygen. The position was meant to untie the invisible knot in your lungs, allowing air to flow more freely and ease your breathing.

With this realization, a wave of gratitude washed over you. Even in your disoriented state, you recognized the significance of this gesture. The person cradling your head had either known or intuitively understood what to do, providing a lifeline in your moment of need.

You tried to speak, to express your thanks or perhaps to reassure the person helping you, but your voice was weak and unsteady. The effort drained you, and you opted to focus on your breathing, each inhale and exhale a conscious act of reclaiming control over your body.

It wasn’t until a groan escaped your lips that the person holding you turned to face you. Instantly, your face flushed with a deep wave of embarrassment upon recognizing him—it was Seungmin. The reassuring smile he sent your way was a beautifully rare sight, and for a fleeting moment, you felt your heart skip a beat. His lips moved, forming words that your still-dazed mind struggled to comprehend.

You blinked up at him, trying to focus, but the words eluded you. Noticing your confusion, Seungmin pursed his lips and turned to someone out of your line of sight. Almost immediately, a cold bottle of water with a straw was handed to him. He settled it gently by your head, positioning the straw so you could drink. The sensation of the cool water on your parched throat was heavenly, and you drank greedily, almost draining the bottle before you realized it.

Seungmin chuckled softly at your eagerness, the sound light and comforting. You felt your cheeks heat up again and averted your gaze, unable to meet his eyes. Despite your embarrassment, the relief from the water was undeniable. Your head cleared a bit more, the world coming into sharper focus.

Seungmin continued to watch over you, his expression a blend of concern and gentle amusement. His presence, usually so distant and enigmatic, now felt unexpectedly comforting. The awkwardness of the situation didn’t diminish the warmth of his care, and you felt a small surge of gratitude.

As you finished the last of the water, Seungmin reached out to steady the bottle, his fingers brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt through you, but it was grounding, a reminder that you were not alone. He murmured something softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. Though the exact words were still lost to you, the intent was clear—he was there for you.

Gradually, the ringing in your ears subsided, and your breathing steadied. You risked a glance back at Seungmin, who was now focused entirely on you, his eyes full of quiet resolve. The vulnerability of the moment hung between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

You tried to muster a smile, a small token of thanks. Seungmin's eyes softened, and he returned the smile, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, the barriers of his usual aloofness seemed to fall away, revealing a depth of kindness that you hadn’t seen before.

Gradually, your hearing began to reawaken, stitching itself back together with your muddled senses. The familiar symphony of the bustling city—a cacophony of distant car horns, murmured conversations, and the steady hum of urban life—slowly emerged from the background noise, anchoring you to the present moment.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Seungmin’s voice cut through the haze, his tone edged with concern as he noticed your growing awareness. You managed a shaky nod, your head still spinning slightly. His brows were knitted together in a deep frown, a tangible expression of his worry.

“Can you sit up, or do you need to stay down a little longer?” he asked gently. “There’s no rush. Please, stay there if you’re still feeling dizzy.”

With a quiet determination, you placed your hands onto the pavement, the rough texture grounding you as you clumsily pushed yourself away from him. Seungmin’s steadying presence guided you with careful hands, helping you to lean against the same building you had previously sought solace from before losing consciousness. You groaned softly, closing your eyes to escape the persistent whirl of the world around you. When you reopened them, the dizziness had ebbed, though remnants of the earlier chaos lingered at the edges of your vision.

In front of you stood a middle-aged man, his apron stained with grease and his hands clasped together in a gesture of concern. His eyes were fixed on Seungmin, waiting for instructions, his face etched with worry for your well-being. The weight of his concern was palpable, and it added another layer to the unfolding scene.

Seungmin exhaled deeply, a sigh that seemed to release the tension of the moment. He settled himself beside you, his posture relaxed yet attentive. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them close to his chest, and his gaze remained focused on you with an almost protective intensity.

The ambient noise of the city continued to swirl around you, but in this small, sheltered space, it felt as though time had slowed. Seungmin’s presence was a steady anchor amidst the chaos, his concern a quiet reassurance that you were not alone. The man in the greasy apron lingered nearby, ready to assist at a moment’s notice, his worried gaze shifting between you and Seungmin.

The world slowly regained its equilibrium, the spinning sensation giving way to a more stable awareness. The tenderness of the pavement beneath you and the warmth of Seungmin’s concern combined to create a cocoon of comfort, allowing you to regain your composure and begin to piece together the events of the past moments.

“How are you feeling?” The middle-aged man’s voice was gentle, his eyes darting between you and Seungmin with a mixture of concern and kindness. “You should eat something. Come inside—whatever you get is on the house.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over you, coloring your cheeks a deep red. You felt a pang of guilt for having worried such a considerate stranger. Just as you were about to politely decline the generous offer, Seungmin’s voice intervened with a firm yet caring tone.

“I agree, Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying a note of unwavering resolve. “You need to eat something after fainting like that. Let’s go inside.”

Seungmin’s tone left no room for argument, the decisiveness of his words compelling you to acquiesce. You sighed softly, nodding in acceptance. The man’s face lit up with a wide grin, clearly pleased by your agreement. With a quick, eager step, he rushed into the restaurant behind you.

Seungmin rose swiftly, brushing off any imaginary dust from his clothes with a swift motion. He extended his hands towards you, his expression one of quiet encouragement. You hesitated for a moment, then grasped his warm hands. The touch was gentle, and a subtle tingle spread through your fingers, a physical reminder of his comforting presence.

Though you felt more stable now, Seungmin’s hands remained hovering near your waist, a silent gesture of support as you made your way inside the restaurant. His protective stance was reassuring, a steadying force guiding you through the threshold.

The restaurant’s interior greeted you with a comforting embrace—a cool respite from the heat outside. The space was warmly lit, with the soft hum of conversation and the tantalizing aroma of food creating a cozy ambiance. 

The tantalizing aroma of Korean comfort foods wafted through the air, weaving its way into your senses and causing your stomach to rumble in eager response. Each fragrant note of sizzling meats, simmering stews, and freshly steamed vegetables seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace, making you profoundly grateful for both the man's generous offer and Seungmin's insistence.

Seungmin guided you with gentle assurance to a table nestled at the far end of the restaurant, where the hum of conversation was softer and the space felt more intimate. The dim lighting at this secluded spot cast a gentle glow, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. He carefully pulled out your chair, his movements measured and considerate, and nudged you forward slightly to ensure you were settled. With a courteous smile, he then made his way around the table, taking his own seat directly across from you.

His smile was a touch awkward, a charming contrast to the seriousness he had shown earlier. He glanced around the room, searching for the man who had so kindly attended to you, only to spot him approaching with a welcoming presence. The man carried a bottle of water and two menus, the promise of nourishment and choice clearly reflected in his hands.

As he reached the table, he placed the items before you with a friendly nod. You accepted the bottle and menus with a grateful bow and a warm smile, your heart swelling with appreciation for his kindness. The bottle of water was cool to the touch, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, while the menus promised a delightful array of dishes.

Seungmin’s gaze softened as he watched you, his concern now mingled with a gentle sense of relief. The atmosphere around you seemed to ease, the initial tension giving way to a shared moment of calm. As you began to peruse the menus, the delicious scents and the comfort of the setting enveloped you, making you feel more at ease and ready to enjoy the simple pleasures of a meal with someone who had shown such unexpected care.

The air between you was thick with awkwardness, a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging in the space after such an intensely personal moment. You busied yourself by fixating on the vibrant images on the menu, using them as a comforting distraction from the lingering embarrassment. Each picture of steaming bowls of soup and colorful plates of food seemed to blur together, a vivid kaleidoscope that kept your eyes occupied and your mind from dwelling on the recent upheaval.

After a period of shared silence, you both placed your orders, the clatter of menus and the murmur of your choices filling the brief lull. There was no longer any barrier between you and the reality of the situation. With a deep breath, you gathered your courage and, in a voice softer than you intended, you managed to say, “Thank you.” Your eyes remained firmly fixed on the table, refusing to meet his gaze, as your cheeks and ears flamed with a blush of sincere embarrassment. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could almost feel his warm, understanding smile directed at you.

“You don’t have to thank me at all,” Seungmin replied, his voice infused with genuine sincerity. “I hope you don’t mind, but I texted the professor to let him know what happened, so he’s aware we won’t be finishing the class with everyone else today.” His words were a pleasant surprise, causing your eyes to widen slightly as you briefly met his gentle gaze. The kindness of his gesture momentarily pierced through your discomfort, but you quickly looked away, your shyness reasserting its hold.

In response to his concern, you offered a grateful nod and a shy smile, the simplest acknowledgments of his thoughtfulness. The question he posed next was gentle, yet it carried an undercurrent of genuine concern. “Do you pass out often?”

At his question, you let out a soft, resigned sigh, the sound almost like a whisper of the weariness you felt. “Sometimes,” you began, your voice barely more than a murmur. “It’s been happening since I was a child, though no one seems to know why. I’ve been checked for things like epilepsy, but they haven’t found anything.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, each syllable revealing a fragment of a long-standing uncertainty.

Seungmin’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes filled with a deep, attentive concern as he absorbed each word with tender care. His silence was a soothing balm, a quiet testament to his empathy. As you recalled the moment he had lifted your arms, a question escaped you almost impulsively: “How did you know to lift my arms?”

His initial reaction was one of surprise, his eyes widening as he blinked at your sudden inquiry. But the astonishment quickly softened into a shy, almost hesitant smile. “Oh,” he began, his voice gentle. “My mother also had fainting spells, usually when it was too hot or if she had an injury.” His revelation was accompanied by a look of nostalgia, a subtle hint of the personal connection he felt to the subject.

You were taken aback once more by this shared experience. “Your mother sounds a lot like me,” you responded, your tone light but tinged with genuine reflection. “I also faint for similar reasons—when I’m overheated or emotionally overwhelmed.”

A serene silence settled between you as Seungmin gave a thoughtful nod, his eyes drifting into a distant gaze that spoke of deep, unspoken reflections. The quietude was a gentle cocoon, wrapping around both of you as he lost himself in the labyrinth of his thoughts.

You turned your gaze to the window beside you, your eyes tracing the hurried figures moving briskly down the bustling street. Each passerby was a blur of motion and color, a stark contrast to the stillness enveloping your corner of the restaurant. The scene outside seemed almost surreal, a vivid tapestry of urban life against the backdrop of your subdued conversation.

Soon, the soft clinking of dishes announced the return of the man from behind the counter. He placed your meals before you with a warm, welcoming smile, the steam rising from the dishes creating a fragrant mist that made your mouth water in eager anticipation. You bowed in gratitude, your appreciation for the meal palpable in your respectful gesture.

With a mixture of impatience and hunger, you watched him take his first bite, his expression shifting to one of satisfied pleasure. Unable to resist any longer, you dove into your own meal, an involuntary sigh of delight escaping your lips as the flavors danced on your palate. Each bite was a revelation, the taste a symphony of comfort and culinary excellence.

In moments like these, the silence between you and Seungmin felt less like an awkward void and more like a shared, unspoken agreement. The simple act of enjoying a meal together, coupled with the mutual understanding forged through your earlier conversation, made the quiet a soothing presence rather than an uncomfortable gap. The gentle hum of the restaurant’s ambiance and the shared pleasure of the food created a cocoon of calm, transforming the once-unbearable silence into a space of peaceful companionship.

As the last morsels of your meal were savored, a lull settled between you, allowing your mind to finally formulate a conversation starter. You swallowed your bite with a mix of anticipation and nervousness before glancing up at Seungmin. His features were softened in concentration, his gentle demeanor captivating as he focused on the last remnants of his dish.

“So,” you began tentatively, your voice betraying a hint of shyness, “how did you get into photography?” The simple question was laden with curiosity and the desire to connect, and as his eyes met yours, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Seungmin’s initial silence was a quiet contemplative pause, his gaze tracing the lines of your face with a thoughtful intensity before he began to speak. “My grandfather passed away from Alzheimer’s,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The weight of his words seemed to settle heavily in the space between you, and your heart tightened with a pang of empathy.

He continued, his tone imbued with a delicate sadness. “He always spoke so fondly of my grandmother, who died before I was born. He used to thank her for her love of photography because it helped him hold onto who he was and the life he lived for a long time. To keep his memories vivid, I started taking pictures of everything around me. I had them developed so he could have tangible memories to hold onto—hundreds of photos of myself, my parents, my cousins, but also of the places I cherished: my room, his house, my house…simple, everyday moments that mattered to him.”

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the significance of his words. You struggled to find the right response, your mind racing to articulate the depth of your feelings. Seungmin’s smile was tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia as he turned his focus back to his meal, leaving you in a space filled with reflection.

After a few moments, you finally found your voice, your tone warm and sincere. “That’s incredibly sweet, Seungmin. I think it was very noble of you to do that for your grandfather.” His response was a soft grin, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink as he swallowed. The sight of his smile, so genuine and heartfelt, made your heart swell with an emotion that was both tender and profound.

In that moment, Seungmin’s vulnerability and kindness transformed your perception of him. The image of his earlier aloofness seemed to fade into a distant memory, replaced by a newfound appreciation for the depth of his character. His quiet grace and the meaningful gesture he shared painted him in a more beautiful light, revealing layers of compassion that drew you closer to him.

As the last remnants of your meal were savored, Seungmin turned his attention to you with a curious gleam in his eyes. “What about you? How did you get into photography?” he inquired, his voice gentle and inviting. You had finished your meal shortly after him, the shared silence now ripe for deeper conversation.

You gave a shy shrug, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I fear my story is not as sweet as yours,” you began, your tone light yet introspective. Seungmin’s playful roll of his eyes and encouraging nod urged you to continue, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well,” you continued, your gaze drifting as you recall your past, “my mother always bought magazines whenever she went grocery shopping, so our house was filled with stacks and stacks of them.” A nostalgic smile crossed your face as you painted a picture of your childhood. “I remember being a child, endlessly flipping through those magazines whenever boredom set in. I would get lost in the pages, captivated by the photographs. They seemed to tell stories of their own, each image a window into a world I found enchanting.”

Your voice grew softer, imbued with a gentle warmth as you shared how that fascination evolved. “One day, I decided to try my hand at capturing my own moments, inspired by those images I loved so much. What started as a simple curiosity quickly became a cherished hobby. The camera became a means for me to explore and create, and somehow, it just stuck with me.”

As you finished, you looked up to find Seungmin’s eyes still fixed on you, his expression a blend of interest and appreciation. The connection you felt through the shared conversation seemed to deepen, the personal stories weaving a tapestry of understanding and mutual respect. In the dim light of the restaurant, the simple act of sharing your paths through photography brought a new layer of intimacy to your budding friendship, making the quiet moments between you all the more meaningful.

“I think it’s cute,” Seungmin remarked with a lighthearted chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. The unexpected compliment made your cheeks flush with a delicate shade of pink, a mix of surprise and shyness coloring your reaction.

“You’re a good photographer, by the way,” he added, his eyes twinkling with sincere praise. 

The words hung in the air like a soft melody, but you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I’ve made it to the professor’s top five favorites only twice since I joined his class last year. You’re always the one receiving accolades for your work, which, I must admit, are truly remarkable.”

Seungmin’s gaze remained steady, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I think it’s a bit unfair for you to view it that way,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “The whole idea of being in someone’s top five is a flawed measure of talent. It’s based on one person’s subjective preferences and doesn’t truly reflect our abilities. While I’m grateful for the recognition, I’ve seen your photos and always found them to be exceptional.”

He continued, his words flowing with thoughtful consideration. “You have a remarkable skill for capturing unique subjects in their most authentic form. It’s a talent to reveal their essence so clearly, especially within the constraints of our assignments. It’s something I find quite impressive and not easy to achieve.”

The sincerity in Seungmin’s voice, combined with his unwavering gaze, made your heart swell with a mix of gratitude and admiration. The conversation took on a new layer of depth, as his words not only offered comfort but also illuminated a newfound appreciation for your own work. In the softly lit restaurant, amidst the lingering aroma of your meal, his encouragement created a warm and supportive atmosphere, allowing you to see your art through a more appreciative lens.

A warm blush spread across your cheeks, a vivid response to the cascade of compliments from Seungmin. The praise seemed to flutter around you like soft, golden leaves in the breeze, making your face flush a deep crimson. Seeking refuge from the intensity of the moment, you allowed your gaze to wander towards the window, where the sun was gently descending, casting a golden hue over the city.

“Oh,” you began, your voice tinged with an innocent attempt to redirect the conversation. “How long have we been here? The sun is setting.” The urgency in your tone was barely concealed, and Seungmin, following your gaze, glanced out with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed the fading light and chuckled softly.

“I should probably start heading home,” you continued, a note of unease threading through your voice. “I don’t like walking home alone at night.” The admission was laced with a quiet vulnerability, and as you spoke, you could feel the familiar pang of anxiety gnawing at you.

Seungmin’s head turned sharply towards you, his expression shifting to one of genuine concern. “I’ll walk you home,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “It’s no problem at all.”

A playful back-and-forth ensued as you and Seungmin debated the offer of him walking you home. Despite your initial reluctance, a sense of acceptance settled over you, allowing you to concede to his persistent kindness. You attempted to settle the bill for your meal, but the generous man from earlier refused with a warm, unwavering smile. Even when Seungmin stepped in to offer payment, the man remained steadfast in his refusal. In the end, you both left a generous tip, a token of your gratitude for his exceptional kindness.

With the bill settled and the evening stretching out before you, you and Seungmin began your walk towards your apartment building. The path was bathed in the soft, fading light of dusk, casting long shadows and a serene glow over the city streets. As you strolled side by side, the conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and lighthearted banter.

The initial stiffness gradually melted away, replaced by a growing sense of ease and camaraderie. It was genuinely delightful to witness this side of Seungmin—a side that seemed to elude the confines of your shared photography class. His laughter, his thoughtful insights, and the warmth of his presence revealed a depth of character that was both refreshing and endearing.

In the gentle embrace of the evening, as the city lights began to twinkle like distant stars, the walk became more than just a journey home. It was a moment of genuine connection, a rare and cherished glimpse into Seungmin’s world, which felt like an honor to experience.

Eventually, you find yourself standing before the gleaming glass doors that lead into the lobby of your apartment building. The weight of the day’s end settles upon you, a bittersweet twinge in your chest as you come to terms with the departure of this unexpectedly pleasant companionship. The evening air, cool and gently perfumed with the scent of blooming night flowers, wraps around you both as you pause at the threshold.

Seungmin, his hands casually tucked into the front pockets of his jacket, rocks back and forth on his heels. The motion, coupled with his contemplative gaze, creates a picture of relaxed anticipation. His presence, so close to yours, carries a sense of warmth and quiet intimacy.

“This is me,” you murmur, your voice a soft whisper, blending with the stillness of the evening. You turn to face him fully, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance in your eyes. “Thank you again for taking care of me earlier. I’m really happy you were there.”

His response is a smile—genuine and radiant—that lights up his features and seems to fill the space between you with a comforting glow. Your heart swells at the sight, an involuntary smile curving your lips in return. Seungmin’s eyes hold a tender seriousness as he speaks. “Please take it easy, rest all that you can,” he advises, his concern palpable in his tone.

You nod in agreement, the sincerity of his words resonate deeply with you. The air between you feels charged with unspoken sentiments, a silent understanding blossoming amidst the dimming light. “It was really nice to spend time with you,” he continues, his admission eliciting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

“I had a really nice time with you too,” you reply, your voice imbued with genuine warmth. “Maybe we can do it again sometime soon—without me having to pass out for it.”

At your light-hearted comment, Seungmin laughs—a sound that is both musical and contagious. The laughter bubbles up between you, mingling with the evening air, and you find yourself laughing along, the shared moment creating a lingering sense of joy.

As you part ways, the memory of his smile and the warmth of his laughter accompany you, leaving a soft, lingering glow in your heart that makes the end of this day feel less like a farewell and more like a promise of things to come.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

🍿 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 ( stray kids )

❛ In the hushed shadows of an empty cinema, you and Hyunjin find yourselves doing anything except watch the film.

𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 + male reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.2k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 12 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! It was especially fun to explore the agoraphilia kink and it might or might not have awakened something in me, sorry not sorry. Requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, FWB trope, agoraphilia (the kink related to having sex in a public space), handjob, blowjob, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

The large screen cast a solitary glow in the otherwise dark and empty cinema room, its flickering light the only beacon amidst the shadows. The film, having premiered only a week ago, played out its animated scenes, but your attention was never captured by the vibrant characters or the lively plot. It was the heart of the week, the sun hanging high in the sky outside, and the cinema was hushed in a midday silence. The movie, a colorful tapestry of whimsy designed for children's delight, had been carefully selected by Hyunjin as part of a deliberate plan.

He knew that a matinee showing of a children's film would ensure privacy, a quiet refuge from the bustling world outside. The choice spoke volumes of his thoughtfulness, a gesture meant to cocoon you both in a rare moment of undisturbed togetherness. The dim ambiance and the occasional laughter from the screen seemed distant, like echoes in a cavern, as the true magic unfolded in the space between your entwined fingers and shared, whispered words.

His hand rested with a gentle weight on your upper thigh, a touch that felt both grounding and electric. Though his gaze appeared firmly fixed on the screen ahead, you could sense the unspoken intentions behind his seemingly casual posture. His fingers, warm and slightly calloused, felt like they were weaving a spell of anticipation and desire.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt him inch just a fraction closer to your already eager core, a subtle yet powerful movement that sent ripples of longing through your body. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the flickering light from the screen casting playful shadows across his face. His smirk, a tantalizing curve at the corners of his lips, told you he was fully aware of the effect he had on you. It was a dance of silent communication, a game of tension and teasing that left you breathless and wanting more.

The room seemed to shrink, the outside world fading into oblivion as every fiber of your being focused on the closeness of his touch and the promise of what it held. The distant sounds of the film became a mere backdrop to the intimate symphony of your shared moment, each second stretched out, dripping with delicious anticipation. His smirk deepened as he felt your reaction, a silent victory that only fueled the fire between you both.

It wasn’t long before Hyunjin’s hand found its way to the apex of your thighs, pressing firmly against your clothed core. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, and suddenly breathing felt like a conscious effort rather than a natural reflex. Each inhalation was shallow, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm dictated by his tantalizing touch.

Your hands clung to the armrests of your seat, knuckles white with the force of your grip, as your body involuntarily arched and buckled against his hand. The need for more, for deeper contact, pulsed through you, a throbbing ache that begged for release. Hyunjin, sensing your desperation, was unreserved in his approach, his fingers moving with practiced skill as they massaged your length through the fabric of your jeans.

The roughness of the denim contrasted deliciously with the tenderness of his caress, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, a fire stoked by his every motion. From the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the outline of his own arousal, straining against the confines of his pants. The sight sent a jolt of satisfaction through you, feeding your ego and heightening the intensity of the moment.

In the dim, secluded theater, with only the flickering light of the screen to witness your secret encounter, the world outside ceased to exist. Each touch, each whisper of movement, was magnified in the hushed silence. Hyunjin’s breath, warm and shallow, mingled with yours, creating a private symphony of shared desire. His eyes, dark and intense, flickered with a mix of mischief and ardor, reflecting the storm of emotions that raged within you both.

There was never any kissing between the two of you, no trace of affection mingled with the deeply intimate actions that had become your shared ritual. Lips never met in tender embrace, and there were no soft whispers of endearment. Instead, the connection you forged was raw and elemental, stripped of the frills of romance. Behind closed doors and within the shadows of dimly lit rooms, you found a thrilling liberation in the mutual use of each other’s bodies. Each encounter was a secret symphony of touch and sensation, free from the constraints of emotional entanglement.

The exhilaration of this clandestine arrangement was a heady intoxication, a rush of adrenaline that coursed through your veins each and every time. The absence of romantic gestures and the lack of emotional responsibility created a unique and intoxicating blend of freedom and anticipation. You both existed in a world where the only currency was the explicit pleasure you pursued together, a hedonistic exchange that left no room for the complexities of caring beyond the immediate moment.

This arrangement, devoid of conventional intimacy, was pure bliss—a potent addiction that occupied your thoughts through every waking moment. The craving for these encounters became an ever-present undercurrent in your daily life, a hunger that only grew stronger with each rendezvous. The physical connection, unburdened by the expectations of love or the weight of emotional commitment, was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could lose yourselves in the primal joy of unrestrained passion.

Each touch, each breathless moment, was a testament to the unique bond you shared—one that thrived in the dark, away from the scrutinizing eyes of the world. The thrill of secrecy, the raw, unfiltered pleasure, was an addiction that neither of you could resist. It was a dance of shadows and light, a tantalizing game that blurred the lines between reality and desire, leaving you both perpetually yearning for the next encounter.

Growing weary of the languid touches that teased more than satisfied, you decided to seize control from Hyunjin. Your fingers, light and teasing, trailed a deliberate path up to his painfully hard arousal. The unexpected contact elicited a raw, unguarded moan from his plump lips, his eyes flashing with a mixture of surprise and irritation. Yet, his glare only made you chuckle softly, a sound that vibrated with quiet confidence and amusement.

Determined to unravel him with your touch, you felt a rising tide of desperation to see him surrender. Your movements became more purposeful, almost urgent, as you deftly tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to liberate his beautiful, aching member. The sight of him laid bare before you sent a thrill through your veins, your own need intensifying at the vision of his vulnerability.

Hyunjin sighed in relief, the tension momentarily ebbing away, only to be replaced by a darker, more intense gaze. His eyes, heavy with desire, watched as you surveyed the dimly lit cinema room, ensuring your clandestine encounter remained undisturbed. Satisfied that you were alone, you slowly sank to your knees between his legs, the anticipation of what was to come heightening the electricity in the air.

The dim glow of the screen cast ethereal shadows over your form, accentuating the intimate tableau you created together. Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent acknowledgment of your shared hunger and the shifting power dynamic. As you positioned yourself, the world outside the darkened room ceased to exist, leaving only the palpable tension and the promise of exquisite release.

His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, each exhalation a testament to his struggle to maintain composure. Your hands, now steady and confident, moved with a precision born of intimate knowledge, eager to draw out every shiver and gasp. The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unfiltered need, created a cocoon around you both, a sanctuary of desire where every touch, every glance, spoke volumes.

Hyunjin’s quiet moans filled the space, mingling with the distant sounds of the film, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed in the secluded darkness. Your control, your neediness, intertwined seamlessly, crafting a moment of pure, unadulterated passion that left both of you breathless and yearning for more.

Hyunjin was already leaking, a tantalizing sight that made your mouth water with anticipation. The glistening evidence of his arousal only spurred you on, your desire mounting with every passing second. You wrapped your fingers around his throbbing length, feeling the heat and the pulse beneath your touch. Slowly, deliberately, you began to stroke him, each movement measured to draw out his pleasure.

As your hand moved, Hyunjin’s reaction was immediate and intense. He threw his head back, his face a portrait of pure ecstasy. His mouth fell open, a silent cry of pleasure escaping his parted lips, and his eyes squeezed shut as waves of sensation washed over him. The sight of him, so undone by your touch, bolstered your confidence, fueling the fire of your own arousal.

With a surge of boldness, you finally took him into your mouth, the familiar taste and texture igniting a spark within you. You fought to suppress a moan, the urge to vocalize your pleasure nearly overwhelming. The sensation of him filling your mouth, the weight and warmth of him, was intoxicating. You reveled in the control, in the power you wielded over his pleasure.

Hyunjin’s response was visceral. He hissed through clenched teeth, his head snapping forward to watch you. His eyes, dark and intense, were filled with a mix of surprise and unrestrained desire. His brows furrowed, the tension etched across his features, but his jaw remained slack, a testament to his struggle to contain his sounds. The effort to maintain some semblance of control was evident, yet you could see him teetering on the edge, each moment threatening to push him over.

Your movements were slow, deliberate, savoring the taste of him and the way his body responded to your ministrations. The flickering light from the screen played across his face, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his lips trembled with every suppressed sound. The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unfiltered connection, created a heady atmosphere that wrapped around you both.

Every subtle shift of his hips, every strangled breath, fed your own desire. The rhythm you established, the ebb and flow of pleasure, was a dance you both knew well. The darkened cinema room, the backdrop of the distant film, became a world unto itself, where the only reality was the shared ecstasy and the bond forged in the heat of passion.

With each stroke, each gentle suction, you brought him closer to the edge, the anticipation building between you. Hyunjin’s gaze never wavered, locked onto you with a mixture of awe and desperation. The connection, so deeply physical, was underscored by the unspoken understanding that this moment, this exchange of pleasure, was something sacred and profoundly intimate.

It was almost uncanny to experience Hyunjin’s unusual silence. You had grown so accustomed to the symphony of his voice, the way he filled intimate moments with his melodic praises and unrestrained moans. His words, often slurred by the intoxicating waves of pleasure, were a chorus of erotic melodies that resonated deep within you, igniting your own desires. The quiet now was both a stark contrast and a thrilling challenge, a testament to his struggle to maintain control.

Yet, even in his silence, the intensity of his need was unmistakable. His normally expressive self found new ways to convey his desperation, his fingers tangling in your hair with a grip that spoke volumes. The usually tender touch now firm and commanding, guiding your head in a rhythm that matched his urgent desires. The sensation of his fingers fisting your hair, each tug a silent plea for more, sent shivers down your spine.

Hyunjin’s hips began to move with a mind of their own, thrusting to meet the rhythm you established. Each upward motion synchronized with the downward movement of your mouth, creating a perfect harmony of motion and sensation. His normally vocal nature was replaced by a more physical expression of his need, every thrust a wordless cry of pleasure. The quiet, punctuated only by the sound of your movements and his ragged breaths, created an atmosphere thick with unspoken longing.

The flickering light from the screen danced across his face, highlighting the tautness of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. The restraint he showed, the effort to maintain some semblance of composure, made the moment even more electrifying. His usual clinginess, now intensified, was a physical manifestation of his pleasure, his body seeking yours with an almost desperate fervor.

As you moved together, the dance of your intimacy became a testament to your deep connection. Each motion, each shared breath, wove a tapestry of desire that wrapped around you both. The darkened cinema room, once a simple backdrop, now felt like a secret world where only the two of you existed, bound by the intensity of your shared experience.

Hyunjin’s control wavered with each passing second, the struggle evident in the way his body tensed and relaxed in quick succession. The quiet was a fragile thing, threatened by the rising tide of his pleasure. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours, communicating volumes without a single word. The normally eloquent Hyunjin was now a creature of pure sensation, his need for you transcending language.

Every movement, every touch, was a symphony of silent communication, an intricate dance of desire and control. As you continued, the thrill of his intensified clinginess and the unusual quiet created a heady mix, a potent blend of intimacy that left you both breathless and yearning for more.

Your free hand moved to caress his balls, the delicate yet firm touch sending jolts of intensified pleasure through Hyunjin’s already electrified body. The effect was immediate and profound; his actions became increasingly erratic, a beautiful chaos of movement that reflected the storm of sensations you were conjuring within him. His face, a canvas of raw emotion, scrunched up gorgeously in response, each twitch and contortion a testament to the bliss you were eliciting.

As the tension mounted, he leaned forward, his need to be closer to you overwhelming his senses. His movements pushed your nose against his pelvis, the intimacy of the action driving both of you to new heights of arousal. You could feel his release building, a palpable tension that seemed to vibrate through his entire body.

When he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, you felt the hot, thick rush of his release spill down your throat. The sensation was overwhelming, filling your mouth to the point of gagging. The fullness was both a challenge and a thrill, a testament to the depth of your connection and the intensity of the moment. You struggled to breathe, the sheer volume of him making it difficult, but you relished every second of it.

Eventually, Hyunjin’s iron grip on you relaxed, his fingers loosening their hold on your hair. You pulled back, gasping for air, the sudden rush of oxygen a stark contrast to the suffocating fullness you’d just experienced. The cool air on your face and the lingering taste of him in your mouth created a heady mix of sensations that left you reeling.

Hyunjin’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to a tender vulnerability. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he’d just experienced. You could see the gratitude and the residual pleasure in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection you shared.

The dim light of the cinema cast gentle shadows across his face, highlighting the lingering flush of arousal on his cheeks. The room, once a simple setting, now felt like a sacred space where the boundaries between you had dissolved. Every detail, from the softness of his touch to the taste of his release, was etched into your memory, creating a moment that was both ephemeral and eternal.

As you both recovered, the world outside seemed distant and unimportant. The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unfiltered connection, had created a bubble of reality where only the two of you existed. The echoes of pleasure and the warmth of your shared experience lingered in the air, a promise of more moments like this to come.

Just like that, you returned to your seat, slipping back into the plush cushion as if nothing extraordinary had transpired. With a composed air, you swallowed the lingering evidence of your intimate adventure, the remnants of Hyunjin’s release settling deep within you. The calm facade you wore was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had just raged between you.

Beside you, Hyunjin was utterly spent, his chest rising and falling in an effort to catch his breath. His skin glistened faintly under the dim cinema lights, a sheen of sweat marking the intensity of your shared moment. His eyes, still glazed with the remnants of pleasure, never left your figure. The way you appeared so nonchalant, so composed, despite the passionate exchange that had just unfolded, captivated him.

Your core throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, a testament to the desire that still simmered within you. The anticipation of what was to come made it difficult to focus on anything else. You shifted slightly in your seat, the ache intensifying with every subtle movement, a constant reminder of the unfinished business between you.

Hyunjin’s gaze lingered on you, a silent promise of continued pleasure hanging in the air. The unspoken understanding that the fun was far from over added an electric tension to the room. The film continued to play, its plot a distant murmur, overshadowed by the anticipation of what awaited you both once the credits rolled.

As you both sat in the dim light, the world outside the cinema seemed to fade away. The mundane reality of your surroundings contrasted sharply with the charged intimacy you shared. The darkened room, filled with the flickering glow of the screen, became a private haven where your desires could roam free, undisturbed by the outside world.

Hyunjin’s fingers twitched slightly, a subtle indication of his renewed interest. The thought of continuing your escapade in the confines of the car sent a thrill through you, your body responding eagerly to the prospect. The anticipation built steadily, each passing moment bringing you closer to the next chapter of your passionate adventure.

The film’s soundtrack provided a background score to your thoughts, each swell of music mirroring the rising tension between you. Your composure remained intact, but beneath the surface, a tempest of desire brewed, ready to be unleashed once more. Hyunjin’s presence, his proximity, only added fuel to the fire, making the wait both torturous and deliciously exciting.

In that shared silence, the air thick with unsaid words and unmet needs, you both found solace. The bond forged in those stolen moments of pleasure was a testament to the depth of your connection. The promise of what was to come loomed large, a tantalizing prospect that kept you both on the edge, eagerly awaiting the privacy of the car where your desires could be fully realized.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

Oh Merin, I’m so so glad you enjoyed this 🥹 Thank you so much for all the support you’ve given me for all this time and for the patience, you’re seriously such a treasured gem 💕🫶

🎇 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 ( stray kids )

❛ You and your lover, Changbin, explore the depths of your relationship through an intimate art session, where Changbin’s skin becomes your canvas for emotional expression.

𝐬𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 + g. neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ) 2.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested a while ago by my beloved mootie, Merin! It was such a sweet prompt, honestly, and I am really happy with how it came out. Requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Established relationship, Y/N is afraid of initiating any kind of intimacy, I would consider this to be vague smut — maybe it should be labeled as suggestive? Probably not actually, romantic sex, making a mess with wet paint during sex, descriptions of anxiety, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

“You have to turn around or I won’t do it,” you huff with feigned annoyance, a thin veil over your mounting anxiety. The words come out sharper than intended, a desperate attempt to mask the tremor in your voice. Changbin pouts, his lower lip jutting out in a way that’s both endearing and maddening, but he complies, turning his back to you. The playful pout is a façade, a small rebellion against the uncertainty that lingers in the air between you.

He had asked you to use him as a canvas, an unusual request that was meant to surprise and unsettle you. The idea was simple in theory but fraught with emotional complexity. During your free time, painting was your solace, a means to escape into a world where you could create beauty out of nothing. You were accustomed to painting on your own skin, using it as a blank slate for your artistic expression. But this situation was different. Changbin, your lover, was not just a body; he was a living, breathing embodiment of your deepest feelings and insecurities. His presence was electric, a constant reminder of the power he wielded over you with the slightest glance or touch.

The mere thought of painting Changbin was both thrilling and terrifying. His skin, normally the subject of your artistic fantasies, now became the canvas upon which your emotions would be laid bare. Each brushstroke would be an intimate declaration, a blend of color and sensation that went beyond mere artistry. The stakes felt incredibly high, and the vulnerability you felt was almost overwhelming. It wasn't just about the painting; it was about the raw, unspoken exchange of trust and affection that came with it. As you prepared your paints and brushes, the flutter in your chest spoke louder than words, a testament to the profound impact Changbin had on your life.

Eventually, all of your painting supplies were meticulously arranged, a testament to your preparation and anticipation. The array of colors and brushes, each placed with care, awaits the moment when they will come to life. Despite Changbin’s back being turned to you, despite the full control you have over this artistic endeavor, and despite the gentle, tender nature that defines him, an inescapable fear grips you tightly. It’s a fear that seems to rise with each breath you take, a curse that has followed you through the months of your relationship, even after four years of friendship.

You still find it nearly impossible to initiate any form of intimacy, a struggle that feels like a heavy weight on your heart. Changbin, ever perceptive and understanding, is acutely aware of your struggle. You can't help but wonder if this request to be your canvas was his way of gently nudging you past your barriers, a subtle invitation to confront your fears. The sight of his toned, bare back, illuminated by the golden sunlight streaming through your windows, is almost too breathtaking to bear. The natural light caresses his skin, highlighting the contours and making him look like a living masterpiece.

You reach for the paintbrush with a hesitant hand, your fingers trembling despite your best efforts to steady them. Each brushstroke will be a step toward bridging the gap between your fears and your desires. The internal turmoil roiling within you feels almost insurmountable, yet Changbin remains a pillar of patience and quiet support. His silence is filled with anticipation, a silent encouragement that heightens the intensity of the moment. As you begin, his breath hitches, a subtle reminder of the vulnerability and trust that this act of painting symbolizes.

“Don’t think, love,” Changbin murmurs softly, his voice a gentle whisper that seems to float in the space between you. There is a delicate fear in his tone, as if the very act of raising his voice might shatter the fragile bubble of intimacy you both are nestled within. His words are meant to soothe, to gently guide you through the swirling maelstrom of anxiety that threatens to engulf you. “Let your hand decide what to do first, like it does with every other painting.”

His encouragement is tender, a quiet plea for you to relinquish the hold of overthinking and simply trust in your own instincts. The way he addresses you, with such care and understanding, reveals his deep awareness of your inner struggle. The idea of allowing your hand to move freely, unburdened by conscious thought, is both comforting and daunting. It’s a call to embrace the organic flow of creativity, to let your artistic instincts take the lead just as they do with every other canvas.

In his gentle insistence, there is an underlying promise of safety and acceptance, a reassurance that you are not alone in this moment. His soft voice, laden with affection, is a beacon that guides you through your hesitation, offering a pathway to overcome the fear that clutches at your heart. As you absorb his words, you feel a shift within, a subtle easing of the tension as you prepare to let your hands move with the grace and freedom that Changbin so patiently encourages.

You exhale shakily, a soft, uneven breath escaping your lips as you close your eyes for a fleeting moment. The brief respite is a small sanctuary from the storm of emotions raging within you. With a deep, albeit hesitant, breath, you allow the brush to make its tentative contact with his back. The sensation is both thrilling and disconcerting, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you’re trying to navigate.

Your heart pounds erratically, lodged firmly in your throat, as if each beat is a protest against the simplicity of the act. The sensation of the brush against his skin is strangely overwhelming, and you can’t help but feel a touch of absurdity at the intensity of your reaction. The thought strikes you with a sting: why should something so seemingly simple provoke such a profound response?

You frown at the self-criticism, a mix of frustration and self-doubt clouding your thoughts. The very act that should be a natural extension of your creativity now feels like an insurmountable barrier. You remain frozen in place, the brush hovering delicately against his back, your mind tangled in a web of conflicting emotions and the weight of your own insecurities.

“First contact, good,” Changbin says softly, his voice filled with genuine warmth and encouragement. His praise, though directed at the simplest of actions, carries a weight of sincerity that pierces through your anxieties. The way he acknowledges your effort with such kindness and appreciation makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions.

Each word of praise from him feels like a tender caress, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. It’s as if his approval alone has the power to lift the heaviness from your shoulders. Yet, amidst the comfort of his support, a pang of sorrow tugs at your heart. You can’t help but feel that Changbin, with his unwavering patience and boundless kindness, is deserving of so much more than you can offer.

The realization settles heavily within you: he is too good, too pure, and his affection for you only highlights the depth of your own insecurities. The disparity between his gentle, unselfish nature and your own self-doubt feels almost unbearable. As you grapple with the bittersweet ache of his praise, the profound sense of his worth and the feeling of inadequacy intertwine, leaving you with a lingering ache for him and the love you fear you might not fully deserve.

“I can’t do this,” you sniff, your voice trembling as you pull the brush away from his back. The words are more a cry of frustration than a simple admission of difficulty. Your hands feel unsteady, and the weight of your own insecurities feels almost too much to bear in this moment of vulnerability.

Changbin remains motionless, his presence a steady, reassuring anchor in the midst of your turmoil. Despite your agitation, he does not waver. His voice cuts through your self-doubt with a calm and unwavering reassurance. “You did good, love, you made the first contact — now keep going.”

His encouragement is gentle, yet insistent, a soft nudge to continue despite the internal resistance that threatens to pull you away. The words carry an undercurrent of faith and support, a reminder that progress has been made and that there is a path forward. Changbin’s steadiness provides a counterbalance to the storm of emotions within you, his calm demeanor a beacon of hope as you grapple with the feeling of inadequacy. His trust in your abilities and his unwavering patience offer a precious glimmer of confidence, urging you to overcome the hesitation and embrace the next step.

You found yourself caught between two conflicting desires: the longing to touch him, to feel the warmth and softness of his skin beneath your fingertips, and the impulse to abandon the entire exercise in a wave of self-doubt. It was a precarious balance, and every moment felt fraught with the tension of your inner struggle. Yet, it was Changbin’s gentle, affirming praise that kept you tethered, a constant reassurance that dispelled the doubts threatening to hold you back. His words, tender and encouraging, provided a steady anchor amidst the churning sea of your uncertainties.

Changbin’s beauty, so striking and profound, seemed almost overwhelming in its intensity. The sight of him, so effortlessly captivating, made it difficult to process your own emotions. The paintbrush in your hand danced across his back with a new fervor, as if guided by an unseen force. The vibrant hues of oranges and yellows spilled across his skin, transforming his usually plain canvas into a vibrant display of color and emotion. The image you painted was a burst of fireworks, a visual symphony meant to capture the depth of the feelings he stirred within you.

Occasionally, your free hand would find its way to his back, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes more than words could. It was a gesture of closeness and reassurance, a small but significant effort to bridge the gap between your hesitations and his unwavering support. Each touch was a deliberate step towards overcoming your fears for his sake. As you put the final touches on the painting, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. The work, now complete, was a testament to the emotions Changbin had evoked and a reflection of the journey you had navigated together.

After admiring and praising your work through the bathroom mirror, Changbin returned to kneel before you, a look of dazed contentment lingering in his eyes. The intimate moment you’d shared while painting him had left an imprint on him, and it was evident in the softened, reverent way he now regarded you. His voice, barely more than a murmur, was tinged with a gentle, almost reverential tone as he took your hands in his and requested you to touch his face.

The intensity of his gaze was nearly too much to bear, a silent plea that seemed to pierce through your defenses. You almost refused, the weight of his unspoken emotions making it difficult to act. In a bid to soften the moment and manage your own trepidation, you asked him to close his eyes. His response was immediate and graceful, a serene smile playing at the corners of his lips as he complied with your request.

Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted them to cup his face, the act both intimate and nerve-wracking. The contact was met with an immediate reaction — a shiver that coursed through his body, a physical manifestation of the deep emotional connection that had been kindled between you. The sensation of his warm skin under your trembling fingers was both grounding and electrifying, a testament to the vulnerability and trust that had been shared in this quiet, tender moment.

The shoulders were your next focus, and your fingertips traced their contours with a delicate touch, as light as a feather. Each movement was deliberate, a gentle exploration that sent ripples of sensation across Changbin's skin. You watched intently as goosebumps emerged, spreading across his body in response to your touch. Despite the palpable reaction, his eyes remained closed, a gesture of trust that deepened the intimacy of the moment.

Changbin's hands rested calmly on his knees as he continued to kneel before you, his posture a silent testament to his patience and willingness. He didn’t shift or flinch, his stillness adding to the weight of the moment. It was an experience that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a profound blend of emotions that left you on edge and in awe.

As you allowed your hands to move freely, a newfound sense of power and connection emerged. You ventured across his chest, tracing the ridges of his biceps and the smooth planes of his belly. Each touch was a discovery, a chance to map the landscape of his body and to feel the subtle changes in his breathing and muscle tension. The freedom to explore his skin, to feel the warmth and texture under your hands, was both a privilege and a revelation, marking a deepening of the bond you shared.

Eventually, a surge of bravery propelled you forward, and you allowed your lips to gently meet his. The contact was electric, an immediate and fervent exchange as he responded to your kiss with equal passion. Changbin sighed contentedly into your mouth, his lips moving with a depth and intensity that mirrored the emotions swirling between you. You surrendered to the warmth and connection of the moment, letting him lead the kiss as you immerse yourself in the shared intimacy.

As the kiss deepened, the atmosphere shifted, and soon the two of you found yourselves on the ground. The transition was both spontaneous and fluid, a natural progression of the intimate exchange that had begun with your kiss. In the heat of the moment, your hands, which had once traced delicate patterns on his back, now inadvertently smeared the artwork you had so carefully created. The paint, which had once been a canvas of emotions, was now spread across both your bodies.

Your hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of his skin, while he moved with a rhythm that was both euphoric and synchronistic. The paint became an unwitting participant in your passion, staining your bodies as you both lost yourselves in the ecstasy of the experience. The ground beneath you was forgotten, replaced by the intense connection and shared vulnerability that defined the moment.

His rhythmic movements were a symphony of whispered confessions of love, each tender murmur sending your mind drifting away on a cloud of pure pleasure. The combination of his words and actions created an overwhelming yet exhilarating sensation that filled every corner of your consciousness. Each whisper was a thread weaving into the fabric of your shared ecstasy, intensifying the connection between you.

The melodies of your intertwined breaths and muted moans became the only sounds that reverberated through your apartment, a private concert of intimacy and passion. The room was enveloped in the hushed symphony of your bodies moving together, a melody of love and desire that seemed to echo off the walls.

A thin layer of sweat formed a glistening sheen on both of your skins, the evidence of your fervent connection. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm, fading light that mingled with the dimming hues of night, creating a soft glow that highlighted the tender vulnerability of the moment. As the daylight surrendered to the encroaching darkness, the scene became a portrait of intimate beauty, a snapshot of a night filled with profound emotional and physical connection.

It was no surprise when you both reached the pinnacle of your shared experience simultaneously. The strained, almost primal sounds that escaped you both were a testament to the overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure that enveloped you. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, a crescendo of sensation and emotion that left you breathless.

Amidst the euphoria, the purity of the love you had just shared became palpable, stirring emotions so deep that tears began to roll down your cheeks. Each tear was a manifestation of the profound connection and overwhelming affection you felt for him. Your heart ached with a fierce love, and you found yourself wanting to express it with every fiber of your being.

He responded to your silent confession with words of his own, his voice tender and filled with sincerity. As he kissed away each tear that stained your cheeks, his eyes held a softness that you had never seen before, a gentle radiance that spoke of the depth of his feelings. A tender smile curved at his lips, amplifying the beauty of the moment. His presence was nothing short of devastatingly beautiful, and in that intimate, vulnerable space, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and disbelief at your fortune. To have a lover so deeply attuned to you, so wonderfully perfect in your eyes, was a gift you could scarcely believe you had received.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

🎇 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 ( stray kids )

❛ You and your lover, Changbin, explore the depths of your relationship through an intimate art session, where Changbin’s skin becomes your canvas for emotional expression.

𝐬𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 + g. neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ) 2.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested a while ago by my beloved mootie, Merin! It was such a sweet prompt, honestly, and I am really happy with how it came out. Requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Established relationship, Y/N is afraid of initiating any kind of intimacy, I would consider this to be vague smut — maybe it should be labeled as suggestive? Probably not actually, romantic sex, making a mess with wet paint during sex, descriptions of anxiety, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

“You have to turn around or I won’t do it,” you huff with feigned annoyance, a thin veil over your mounting anxiety. The words come out sharper than intended, a desperate attempt to mask the tremor in your voice. Changbin pouts, his lower lip jutting out in a way that’s both endearing and maddening, but he complies, turning his back to you. The playful pout is a façade, a small rebellion against the uncertainty that lingers in the air between you.

He had asked you to use him as a canvas, an unusual request that was meant to surprise and unsettle you. The idea was simple in theory but fraught with emotional complexity. During your free time, painting was your solace, a means to escape into a world where you could create beauty out of nothing. You were accustomed to painting on your own skin, using it as a blank slate for your artistic expression. But this situation was different. Changbin, your lover, was not just a body; he was a living, breathing embodiment of your deepest feelings and insecurities. His presence was electric, a constant reminder of the power he wielded over you with the slightest glance or touch.

The mere thought of painting Changbin was both thrilling and terrifying. His skin, normally the subject of your artistic fantasies, now became the canvas upon which your emotions would be laid bare. Each brushstroke would be an intimate declaration, a blend of color and sensation that went beyond mere artistry. The stakes felt incredibly high, and the vulnerability you felt was almost overwhelming. It wasn't just about the painting; it was about the raw, unspoken exchange of trust and affection that came with it. As you prepared your paints and brushes, the flutter in your chest spoke louder than words, a testament to the profound impact Changbin had on your life.

Eventually, all of your painting supplies were meticulously arranged, a testament to your preparation and anticipation. The array of colors and brushes, each placed with care, awaits the moment when they will come to life. Despite Changbin’s back being turned to you, despite the full control you have over this artistic endeavor, and despite the gentle, tender nature that defines him, an inescapable fear grips you tightly. It’s a fear that seems to rise with each breath you take, a curse that has followed you through the months of your relationship, even after four years of friendship.

You still find it nearly impossible to initiate any form of intimacy, a struggle that feels like a heavy weight on your heart. Changbin, ever perceptive and understanding, is acutely aware of your struggle. You can't help but wonder if this request to be your canvas was his way of gently nudging you past your barriers, a subtle invitation to confront your fears. The sight of his toned, bare back, illuminated by the golden sunlight streaming through your windows, is almost too breathtaking to bear. The natural light caresses his skin, highlighting the contours and making him look like a living masterpiece.

You reach for the paintbrush with a hesitant hand, your fingers trembling despite your best efforts to steady them. Each brushstroke will be a step toward bridging the gap between your fears and your desires. The internal turmoil roiling within you feels almost insurmountable, yet Changbin remains a pillar of patience and quiet support. His silence is filled with anticipation, a silent encouragement that heightens the intensity of the moment. As you begin, his breath hitches, a subtle reminder of the vulnerability and trust that this act of painting symbolizes.

“Don’t think, love,” Changbin murmurs softly, his voice a gentle whisper that seems to float in the space between you. There is a delicate fear in his tone, as if the very act of raising his voice might shatter the fragile bubble of intimacy you both are nestled within. His words are meant to soothe, to gently guide you through the swirling maelstrom of anxiety that threatens to engulf you. “Let your hand decide what to do first, like it does with every other painting.”

His encouragement is tender, a quiet plea for you to relinquish the hold of overthinking and simply trust in your own instincts. The way he addresses you, with such care and understanding, reveals his deep awareness of your inner struggle. The idea of allowing your hand to move freely, unburdened by conscious thought, is both comforting and daunting. It’s a call to embrace the organic flow of creativity, to let your artistic instincts take the lead just as they do with every other canvas.

In his gentle insistence, there is an underlying promise of safety and acceptance, a reassurance that you are not alone in this moment. His soft voice, laden with affection, is a beacon that guides you through your hesitation, offering a pathway to overcome the fear that clutches at your heart. As you absorb his words, you feel a shift within, a subtle easing of the tension as you prepare to let your hands move with the grace and freedom that Changbin so patiently encourages.

You exhale shakily, a soft, uneven breath escaping your lips as you close your eyes for a fleeting moment. The brief respite is a small sanctuary from the storm of emotions raging within you. With a deep, albeit hesitant, breath, you allow the brush to make its tentative contact with his back. The sensation is both thrilling and disconcerting, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you’re trying to navigate.

Your heart pounds erratically, lodged firmly in your throat, as if each beat is a protest against the simplicity of the act. The sensation of the brush against his skin is strangely overwhelming, and you can’t help but feel a touch of absurdity at the intensity of your reaction. The thought strikes you with a sting: why should something so seemingly simple provoke such a profound response?

You frown at the self-criticism, a mix of frustration and self-doubt clouding your thoughts. The very act that should be a natural extension of your creativity now feels like an insurmountable barrier. You remain frozen in place, the brush hovering delicately against his back, your mind tangled in a web of conflicting emotions and the weight of your own insecurities.

“First contact, good,” Changbin says softly, his voice filled with genuine warmth and encouragement. His praise, though directed at the simplest of actions, carries a weight of sincerity that pierces through your anxieties. The way he acknowledges your effort with such kindness and appreciation makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions.

Each word of praise from him feels like a tender caress, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. It’s as if his approval alone has the power to lift the heaviness from your shoulders. Yet, amidst the comfort of his support, a pang of sorrow tugs at your heart. You can’t help but feel that Changbin, with his unwavering patience and boundless kindness, is deserving of so much more than you can offer.

The realization settles heavily within you: he is too good, too pure, and his affection for you only highlights the depth of your own insecurities. The disparity between his gentle, unselfish nature and your own self-doubt feels almost unbearable. As you grapple with the bittersweet ache of his praise, the profound sense of his worth and the feeling of inadequacy intertwine, leaving you with a lingering ache for him and the love you fear you might not fully deserve.

“I can’t do this,” you sniff, your voice trembling as you pull the brush away from his back. The words are more a cry of frustration than a simple admission of difficulty. Your hands feel unsteady, and the weight of your own insecurities feels almost too much to bear in this moment of vulnerability.

Changbin remains motionless, his presence a steady, reassuring anchor in the midst of your turmoil. Despite your agitation, he does not waver. His voice cuts through your self-doubt with a calm and unwavering reassurance. “You did good, love, you made the first contact — now keep going.”

His encouragement is gentle, yet insistent, a soft nudge to continue despite the internal resistance that threatens to pull you away. The words carry an undercurrent of faith and support, a reminder that progress has been made and that there is a path forward. Changbin’s steadiness provides a counterbalance to the storm of emotions within you, his calm demeanor a beacon of hope as you grapple with the feeling of inadequacy. His trust in your abilities and his unwavering patience offer a precious glimmer of confidence, urging you to overcome the hesitation and embrace the next step.

You found yourself caught between two conflicting desires: the longing to touch him, to feel the warmth and softness of his skin beneath your fingertips, and the impulse to abandon the entire exercise in a wave of self-doubt. It was a precarious balance, and every moment felt fraught with the tension of your inner struggle. Yet, it was Changbin’s gentle, affirming praise that kept you tethered, a constant reassurance that dispelled the doubts threatening to hold you back. His words, tender and encouraging, provided a steady anchor amidst the churning sea of your uncertainties.

Changbin’s beauty, so striking and profound, seemed almost overwhelming in its intensity. The sight of him, so effortlessly captivating, made it difficult to process your own emotions. The paintbrush in your hand danced across his back with a new fervor, as if guided by an unseen force. The vibrant hues of oranges and yellows spilled across his skin, transforming his usually plain canvas into a vibrant display of color and emotion. The image you painted was a burst of fireworks, a visual symphony meant to capture the depth of the feelings he stirred within you.

Occasionally, your free hand would find its way to his back, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes more than words could. It was a gesture of closeness and reassurance, a small but significant effort to bridge the gap between your hesitations and his unwavering support. Each touch was a deliberate step towards overcoming your fears for his sake. As you put the final touches on the painting, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. The work, now complete, was a testament to the emotions Changbin had evoked and a reflection of the journey you had navigated together.

After admiring and praising your work through the bathroom mirror, Changbin returned to kneel before you, a look of dazed contentment lingering in his eyes. The intimate moment you’d shared while painting him had left an imprint on him, and it was evident in the softened, reverent way he now regarded you. His voice, barely more than a murmur, was tinged with a gentle, almost reverential tone as he took your hands in his and requested you to touch his face.

The intensity of his gaze was nearly too much to bear, a silent plea that seemed to pierce through your defenses. You almost refused, the weight of his unspoken emotions making it difficult to act. In a bid to soften the moment and manage your own trepidation, you asked him to close his eyes. His response was immediate and graceful, a serene smile playing at the corners of his lips as he complied with your request.

Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted them to cup his face, the act both intimate and nerve-wracking. The contact was met with an immediate reaction — a shiver that coursed through his body, a physical manifestation of the deep emotional connection that had been kindled between you. The sensation of his warm skin under your trembling fingers was both grounding and electrifying, a testament to the vulnerability and trust that had been shared in this quiet, tender moment.

The shoulders were your next focus, and your fingertips traced their contours with a delicate touch, as light as a feather. Each movement was deliberate, a gentle exploration that sent ripples of sensation across Changbin's skin. You watched intently as goosebumps emerged, spreading across his body in response to your touch. Despite the palpable reaction, his eyes remained closed, a gesture of trust that deepened the intimacy of the moment.

Changbin's hands rested calmly on his knees as he continued to kneel before you, his posture a silent testament to his patience and willingness. He didn’t shift or flinch, his stillness adding to the weight of the moment. It was an experience that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a profound blend of emotions that left you on edge and in awe.

As you allowed your hands to move freely, a newfound sense of power and connection emerged. You ventured across his chest, tracing the ridges of his biceps and the smooth planes of his belly. Each touch was a discovery, a chance to map the landscape of his body and to feel the subtle changes in his breathing and muscle tension. The freedom to explore his skin, to feel the warmth and texture under your hands, was both a privilege and a revelation, marking a deepening of the bond you shared.

Eventually, a surge of bravery propelled you forward, and you allowed your lips to gently meet his. The contact was electric, an immediate and fervent exchange as he responded to your kiss with equal passion. Changbin sighed contentedly into your mouth, his lips moving with a depth and intensity that mirrored the emotions swirling between you. You surrendered to the warmth and connection of the moment, letting him lead the kiss as you immerse yourself in the shared intimacy.

As the kiss deepened, the atmosphere shifted, and soon the two of you found yourselves on the ground. The transition was both spontaneous and fluid, a natural progression of the intimate exchange that had begun with your kiss. In the heat of the moment, your hands, which had once traced delicate patterns on his back, now inadvertently smeared the artwork you had so carefully created. The paint, which had once been a canvas of emotions, was now spread across both your bodies.

Your hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of his skin, while he moved with a rhythm that was both euphoric and synchronistic. The paint became an unwitting participant in your passion, staining your bodies as you both lost yourselves in the ecstasy of the experience. The ground beneath you was forgotten, replaced by the intense connection and shared vulnerability that defined the moment.

His rhythmic movements were a symphony of whispered confessions of love, each tender murmur sending your mind drifting away on a cloud of pure pleasure. The combination of his words and actions created an overwhelming yet exhilarating sensation that filled every corner of your consciousness. Each whisper was a thread weaving into the fabric of your shared ecstasy, intensifying the connection between you.

The melodies of your intertwined breaths and muted moans became the only sounds that reverberated through your apartment, a private concert of intimacy and passion. The room was enveloped in the hushed symphony of your bodies moving together, a melody of love and desire that seemed to echo off the walls.

A thin layer of sweat formed a glistening sheen on both of your skins, the evidence of your fervent connection. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm, fading light that mingled with the dimming hues of night, creating a soft glow that highlighted the tender vulnerability of the moment. As the daylight surrendered to the encroaching darkness, the scene became a portrait of intimate beauty, a snapshot of a night filled with profound emotional and physical connection.

It was no surprise when you both reached the pinnacle of your shared experience simultaneously. The strained, almost primal sounds that escaped you both were a testament to the overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure that enveloped you. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, a crescendo of sensation and emotion that left you breathless.

Amidst the euphoria, the purity of the love you had just shared became palpable, stirring emotions so deep that tears began to roll down your cheeks. Each tear was a manifestation of the profound connection and overwhelming affection you felt for him. Your heart ached with a fierce love, and you found yourself wanting to express it with every fiber of your being.

He responded to your silent confession with words of his own, his voice tender and filled with sincerity. As he kissed away each tear that stained your cheeks, his eyes held a softness that you had never seen before, a gentle radiance that spoke of the depth of his feelings. A tender smile curved at his lips, amplifying the beauty of the moment. His presence was nothing short of devastatingly beautiful, and in that intimate, vulnerable space, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and disbelief at your fortune. To have a lover so deeply attuned to you, so wonderfully perfect in your eyes, was a gift you could scarcely believe you had received.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

Thank you!! This is such an incredible compliment ILYSM! 💕

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── JANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist

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⨳ ❛𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) 1.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

⌗ O1┆ 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

ten months earlier

It’s a shrine. Photographs and posters of your face adorn the walls of your former bedroom, meticulously arranged in neat rows, each framed and dated, chronicling your journey. The once wobbly old bookshelves, which cradled your most cherished books, have been replaced by plain white ones, now solely occupied by your albums and merchandise. The desk, your sanctuary where you spent countless hours studying or writing songs until your body gave in to exhaustion, has vanished. In its place stand several life-sized cardboard cutouts, unmistakably pilfered rather than bought. The only vestige of familiarity in this shrine is your bed, still dressed in the same crimson linens you had always adored. There you sit, a hollow semblance of the person whose face now dominates these walls, alongside your untouched suitcase since your arrival.

A torrent of conflicting emotions surged through you, as memories long buried flooded your already chaotic mind, bringing with them a sharp migraine that crept through your temples. Despite having taken medicine, you doubted it would dissipate without the balm of a proper night’s sleep. Yet, as your mother poked her head through the half-closed door of your old bedroom, you knew rest would remain elusive. Nevertheless, you managed to pull the corners of your lips into a smile, hoping it would be convincing enough as she made her way inside to sit beside you.

She surveyed the room she had reimagined, a delicate flush coloring her cheeks. "I couldn't help it; I wanted to celebrate your success."

You remained silent, instead allowing your gaze to drift over the unsettling array of posters, each bearing your stage name, Noctara. The dark, haunting themes woven into every image evoked a peculiar sensation, as though you were staring at the face of a stranger rather than your own.

"I wanted to showcase everything in the living room so our friends could see just how hard you’ve been working," she said, her voice tinged with a soft laugh as she rolled her eyes playfully. "But your father worried it might scare some of them away."

You couldn’t help but agree with your father’s sentiment, though you managed to smile at her gesture. It was strange to see her so animated, grasping for words when the last time you had seen her in person had been so fraught with pain. It seemed she wished to erase that hurtful moment from memory — or perhaps she already had.

It was no surprise that she chose now, when you had to conceal half your face just to walk the streets without being recognized, to display your success. Although performing had always been your passion, you had often contemplated quitting, burdened by your mother’s relentless obsession with having a prodigious child. Time and again, you had been pushed to the brink, desperately clinging to whatever you could to prevent yourself from falling.

The irony of your success as an idol was not lost on you. As deadlines and relentless schedules closed in, every attempt to catch your breath was thwarted. You couldn’t retreat behind your doting father for refuge anymore, not when your career stood at its zenith, laden with the heavy expectations of others.

Your career had granted you the ability to fulfill a dream that was close to your father’s heart—allowing him to retire from his grueling construction job and open a record store just around the corner from your street. The store, flourishing amidst the resurgence of vinyl enthusiasts, stood as a testament to his newfound joy. The thought of quitting now, and disappearing from the spotlight, was unthinkable. Your family, now reliant on your success, would be left with nothing, and no matter how you felt about them, it would be deeply unjust.

“Have you seen my garden?” Your mother’s voice cut through the silence that had stretched between you, breaking the heavy pause with an unexpected question. You shook your head, astonished to learn that she had finally done what she had long promised: to revive the gardens that had languished throughout your childhood. “Come with me.”

She gestured for you to follow, rising swiftly and hurrying out of your room with an eagerness that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else. With a soft groan, you pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the persistent ache in your lower back and knees.

As you entered the common areas of the house, you found the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard flung wide open. Your mother stood on the porch, her face alight with a broad smile as she awaited your reaction to her labor of love. The garden was a riot of wildflowers, each one a burst of color, growing almost as tall as you. There was no trace of meticulous planning; instead, the flowers seemed to have been scattered with joyful abandon. A stone path wound its way through the garden, leading to a stunning fountain that stood gracefully at its heart. Despite the apparent chaos, your eyes were drawn to the garden's raw, untamed beauty, a testament to its natural charm and the loving hands that had nurtured it.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. She gestured toward the porch swing beside the sliding doors, and you settled onto it with a grateful sigh as she joined you. “I’m so glad you finally got the garden you wanted.”

Her smile was soft and warm as she replied, “It couldn’t have been without you.”

You fought to contain the swell of emotion in your chest, but the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your efforts. Her smile widened in response, a silent acknowledgment of the moment, and she wisely chose to let the silence stretch between you, wrapping you both in a comfortable tranquility.

“Do you have anyone?”

The unexpected question made you scoff, your eyes rolling before you could curb the reflex. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said through gritted teeth, struggling to mask her frustration, prompting you to purse your lips in silent apology. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Mom,” you sighed, trying to keep your tone even. “You know that as an idol, I’m not allowed to date.”

“Yes, that might be true,” she pressed on, undeterred. “But I keep reading about idols who are dating anyway.”

“And why can you read about it, Mom? Because those idols either got caught or their companies allowed them to publicly announce their relationships.”

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hands dismissively, as though swatting away your argument. “Rules are just suggestions; they can’t control you completely.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle breathlessly, glancing up at the stars above as if they might lend you some strength. The absurdity of her words almost made you laugh out loud.

“You don’t understand, I could be fired if I’m caught dating. It’s happened before.”

“At least hear me out,” she persisted stubbornly, and you sighed in resignation. “The reason I bring this up is because I recently met an old friend from my youth—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hold on—”

“No, Mom, I am not meeting any of your friends' sons.”

“Please!”

Her desperate plea silenced you, leaving you with your jaw clenched in frustration. To regain your composure, you shifted your gaze to the tranquil garden, seeking solace in its calm serenity.

“I recently reconnected with an old friend from my youth, and she has a son who is also an idol. I didn’t make any promises, but I said I’d discuss it with you. If you agree, you’ll meet him this Friday at a coffee shop just two blocks away. Even if you’re worried about your company firing you—which I doubt, considering your success—you can simply say you’re meeting a friend rather than going on a date. There’s really no harm in meeting one boy for your mother’s sake.”

“My answer is still no. I don’t want to—”

“Oh, Y/N, please! I don’t ask for much—”

“No, Mom, you ask for everything! It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me—I do—but my answer remains firmly no.”

“So you’d rather embarrass me?”

With an exasperated sigh, you gaze up at the star-strewn sky, silently pleading for some celestial intervention.

“Fine,” you grit out, your frustration barely contained. “But I will meet him just this once, and you will never pester me with this nonsense again.”

The joy that spread across her face would have been almost comical if you weren’t so weary. She leaped up in excitement, planting quick kisses on your cheeks before dashing inside, presumably to share the news with your father. In the distance, you heard her calling out the details again: Friday at noon.

You released another sigh, rubbing your temples as you reclined in your seat. The garden remained as enchanting as ever, and the night sky, with its blanket of stars, was even more breathtaking.

posted: 06 • 14 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

i broke up with my girlfriend today but we roll haha. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, more will be coming since i'm just going to throw myself into writing instead of coping because therapy is expensive and i don't want to.

( 🏷️ ) permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @jisunglyricist

( 🏷️ ) series taglist:

merin! thank you so much for your support, i love you so much! those lyrics took me an embarrassingly long time for me to write because writing poetry or anything that rhymes is very out of my comfort zone but i’m so happy with how it turned out! expect more original songs in here! also, thank you for the hug and the offer 🥹 you’re very sweet — you can also talk to me or vent at any time, i promise i’m here to listen.

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🦇 ‘till forever falls apart 𓂅 ໋⋅

「 other works by green. 」 「 kofi 」 「 free palestine 」 「 series index 」

‧₊° pairing. han jisung x idol!fem!reader

‧₊° content warnings. han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression. reader has fibromyalgia. constant mention of being in pain. love-making. cussing. lots of angst. more to be added.

‧₊° rating. 18+

‧₊° summary. in which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

prologue. lady of the night

Lady of the night, come out and kiss your stars

Whisper to the moon, and show us where you are

A sea of people sang to you, holding their red light in the air as they did so. Under the harsh rain that hit their skin like bullets yet they remained in place, raising their voices to be heard over the constant thunder in your ears — a mixture of the weather and your own heartbeat.

In the shadows deep, where the lost souls weep

You dance alone, in the dark so far

The microphone in your hand was taken from your hands as people from backstage rushed to your aid, yet you held your hand up to signal them to stop as you slowly raised your gaze to see the crowd. Air ceased to exist the moment your eyes met theirs. The singing continued as they watched you, perhaps waiting for you to join them, though you genuinely could not find a single thread of motivation to help you through.

Oh, Lady of the night, with your eyes so bright

Guide us through the endless night

Though your body tensed and screeched in pain, you found enough strength to sit up enough to pull your feet from under yourself in order to sit down properly, ignoring the fact that this dress was not made for such a thing. Still, you allowed the rain to attack your body while your mind and heart was soothed by the sound of your very first song being sung by hundreds of people you were afraid might leave. But they didn’t. They have remained here, with you.

With your spectral light, take us to new heights

Lady of the night, be our silent guide

The people who were previously trying to help you exit the stage immediately were now standing to the side, ready to move at the beck of your call. Though your manager stood amongst those people, face red with fury as he burnt holes into your frail body. However, not a single care seemed to reach your conscience at this moment.

Winds begin to howl, as you make your silent call

Through the ancient trees, your ghostly footsteps fall

In the midnight air, there’s a longing there

For the dreams you weave, in your silver shawl

As the song continued on, your heartbeat slowed to a rhythm that didn’t seem to want to make her veins burst, and for the first time in weeks did you know peace. Pure and simple peace. The entire world spun steadily, your thoughts stopped racing, and air returned to your lungs like cold water at the height of the summer heat. Your eyes fell close, and the corners of your lips quirked up into a soft smile.

Although you hadn’t noticed at first, you’d been mouthing the words that started the snowball that is your career and it was as though you had finally grasped the lyrics you had written yourself.

Lady of the night, won't you come out and kiss your stars

In your tender light, we’ll forget our scars

As the song came to an end, you reached out to the person closest to you and with their help, came to your feet. This action seemed to encourage the audience as their voice grew louder, and you couldn’t help the tears that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back.

Till the morning’s hue, we’ll dream with you

Lady of the night, wherever you are

Oh, what a time to be alive.

word count: 0.5k 🦇 posted: 06 • 01 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

by popular vote, i present to you: TFFA! i’m so so happy to be back guys, y’all have no idea the amount of stress i’ve been feeling and all the shit i had to deal with. i am quite literally penniless, am back home where all the stress and crap i try to avoid throughout the semester just sits there, waiting and now i gotta do something about it. i’m just…lowkey not okay haha.

anyways, i’m happy to be writing again! i know this one in particular is probably the shortest thing i’ve ever posted BUT more will come, this is just a snippet of the shitshow that’s coming and i’m honestly so excited.

( 🏷️ ) taglist: @agi-ppangx

⨳ ❛𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) ~7.2k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ There’s no schedule for my updates, but I mostly write when my fibromyalgia is kicking my ass. I hope you guys enjoy, Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: on going

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🦇 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. angel - troye sivan / apocalypse - cigarettes after sex / as the world caves in - sarah cothran / at my worst - pink sweat$ / beautiful - bazzi / beautiful people - ed sheeran, khalid / chasing cars - snow patrol / control - zoe wees / count on me - bruno mars / eight - iu, suga / euphoria - bts / feels like home - auli’i cravalho, keegan dewitt / finally - halsey / flashlight - hailee steinfeld / golden hour - jvke / halo - beyoncé / ilysb - kimwoosung, dpole, mellow kitchen, kim hyungwoo / issues - julia michaels / i won’t give up - jason mraz / little things - one direction / look after you - the fray / marry me - train / my universe - coldplay, bts / nightingale - demi lovato / once in a lifetime - one direction / over and over again - nathan sykes / perfect - ed sheeran / picture you - chappell roan / save me - bts / secret love song - little mix, jason derulo / shallow - lady gaga, bradley cooper / strong - one direction / take me home - jess glynne / thinking out loud - ed sheeran / a thousand years - christina perri / ‘till forever falls apart - ashe, finneas / unconditionally - katy perry / understand - keshi / valentine - 5 seconds of summer / write on me - fifth harmony / yellow - coldplay / you are the reason - calum scott / you & i - one direction / young and beautiful - lana del rey / you’re my garden - jeong eunji / never ending story - stray kids

⌗ OO┆lady of the night (0.4k)

⌗ O1┆shrined (1.4k)

⌗ O2┆eternal melodies record shop (2.1k)

⌗ O3┆what helps you breathe? (3.1k)

⌗ O4┆pink post-it

⌗ O5┆the tales of noctara

🦇 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝: 00 • 00 • 2024 🦇

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⨳ ❛𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) 0.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Longer note at the end! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

⌗ OO┆ 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Lady of the night, come out and kiss your stars

Whisper to the moon, and show us where you are

A sea of souls sang to you, their red lights piercing through the deluge, holding their beacons aloft as if to guide you. The rain pelted them like relentless bullets, yet they stood steadfast, their voices rising above the cacophony of thunder and your own racing heartbeat.

In the shadows deep, where the lost souls weep

You dance alone, in the dark so far

The microphone slipped from your trembling grasp as those from backstage rushed forward, but you lifted a hand, bidding them to halt. Slowly, you raised your gaze, meeting the crowd's eyes. Time seemed to stop, air turning scarce as their expectant faces filled your vision. They continued their song, perhaps waiting for you to join them, but motivation eluded you like a distant star.

Oh, Lady of the night, with your eyes so bright

Guide us through the endless night

Your body screamed in protest, every nerve alive with pain, yet you found the strength to sit up, pulling your legs from beneath you to sit properly, heedless of the dress unsuited for such a posture. The rain attacked your body, but your heart and mind were soothed by the sound of your first song, sung by hundreds of voices you feared would abandon you. But they stayed steadfast.

With your spectral light, take us to new heights

Lady of the night, be our silent guide

Those who had rushed to your aid now stood aside, poised to move at your command. Your manager, face red with fury, glared at you with a burning intensity, but his rage couldn't penetrate the serene bubble enclosing you.

Winds begin to howl, as you make your silent call

Through the ancient trees, your ghostly footsteps fall

In the midnight air, there’s a longing there

For the dreams you weave, in your silver shawl

As the song went on, your heartbeat steadied, no longer threatening to burst your veins. For the first time in weeks, you knew peace. The world spun at a gentle pace, your thoughts stilled, and air filled your lungs like a cool drink on a sweltering day. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a soft smile graced your lips.

Unconsciously, you mouthed the words that had sparked your career, finally grasping the lyrics you had penned yourself.

Lady of the night, won't you come out and kiss your stars

In your tender light, we’ll forget our scars

As the song reached its end, you reached out to someone nearby, their touch grounding you as you rose to your feet. The audience's voice swelled, their energy lifting you, and tears you hadn't known you'd held back flowed freely.

Till the morning’s hue, we’ll dream with you

Lady of the night, wherever you are

Oh, what a time to be alive.

posted: 06 • 01 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

by popular vote, i present to you: TFFA! i’m so so happy to be back guys, y’all have no idea the amount of stress i’ve been feeling and all the shit i had to deal with. i am quite literally penniless, am back home where all the stress and crap i try to avoid throughout the semester just sits there, waiting and now i gotta do something about it. i’m just…lowkey not okay haha.

anyways, i’m happy to be writing again! i know this one in particular is probably the shortest thing i’ve ever posted BUT more will come, this is just a snippet of the shitshow that’s coming and i’m honestly so excited.

( 🏷️ ) permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx

( 🏷️ ) series taglist:

Brb…need to go touch some grass now

That was amazing thank you so much 😮‍💨🥹

It’s me again :D

I had this thought where pretty told Chris to sit on the bed and close his eyes and then she shows him the new lingerie she bought. Like if she got more than one set and told Chris to wait to touch her because there is more… I think he would either be like sure pretty show me or he would just ask her for a kiss before she goes put on the next set but he holds pretty when she is about to pull back from the kiss and tells her that he can’t wait longer to touch her :((

I think it would be funny for pretty when she just walks around in underwear and a oversized shirt of Chris and a pair of black thighs to tease Chris :)

the mental image this gave me was too good not to write a little drabble for it.... so here it is! it might not be exactly as you had imagined, but i think it's good enough ehehhe

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~1k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · smut · established relationship · oral [M.Rec] · this was barely proof-read please bear with me lol 

minors do not interact.

“Mmm… Yeah. This one’s definitely the prettiest one”.

“Chris”, the pout on your lips made him smile, you just looked so cute. Cute… What a good balance to what you were wearing, a combination that looked nothing short of absolutely delicious to him. “You’ve said that about every single one! That barely helps”.

“Pretty, baby… Look at me. Any set you put on right now will be the prettiest one”, Chris leaned back on his hands, spreading his legs further apart where he sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted you to focus on the movement, he needed you to see the effects your little fashion show had on him.

Earlier, as soon as he’d come out of the shower, without even waiting for him to put anything on, you’d taken a hold of his arm and dragged him to your shared bedroom. Repeating ‘Come, come, come’, finishing with an excited ‘Got something to show you!’

And something to show him you had…

As soon as he had sat down on the bed, you’d asked him to ‘Close your eyes, baby, okay? No peeking!’ and he just giggled and complied. Why wouldn’t he? You sounded just so excited, and he was incredibly weak to your smile, so of course he complied, no questions asked.

Honestly, he’d have to remind you to give him heads-ups for these things, because every time you surprised him with lingerie, he almost fainted with how quickly his insides set on fire. He almost stood up from the bed as soon as he saw you, but he was sure you were just able to see his intentions perfectly in his eyes, which was why you stopped him.

‘Nuh-uh. No touching. I need you to help me decide which one looks best so I can take it with me for our trip this weekend. I just know that if you touch me, I won’t get to show you the other ones’. Chris figured there’d be no harm in humouring you. After all, seeing you try on different garments would be far from a displeasing activity, so he remained seated as you twirled and turned in all sorts of directions so he could see you in every single angle possible.

As usual, Chris underestimated how horny his inner wolf could be–how horny he could be… He should know better by now, but, clearly, he wasn’t thinking with the right head when he agreed to this.

Babydolls… Four of them–each with their matching panties underneath, of course. You’d tried on four different babydolls in the span of twenty minutes, and Chris was honestly close to snapping.

You’d started off strong, with a red set, next came a black one, then a lilac one, and now this one, white. They all had their own distinct shapes and textures, but this last one was the one that looked the most comfortable. With no underwires in the chest area, lacy, pretty much transparent, doing nothing but accentuating all those areas of your body he just wanted to sink his teeth into…

He had reached his limit, and it was more than obvious with the raging hard-on he’d been sporting for what he figured had been probably eighteen minutes. He couldn’t sit still anymore, it was almost like his mind was screaming at him, he just had to openly show you just how aroused he was.

The pout was gone from your lips, it disappeared the moment you focused on his leaking cock resting against his lower abdomen, when your tongue had come out of your mouth to lick your bottom lip. Now he was sure you were close to snapping yourself, it was just clear as day to him in the shift in your scent.

“You look gorgeous in all of them. Take them all, and I promise that if you let me, I’ll fuck you in all of them, on all surfaces of the house”, it was a very serious offer. One that you seemed to be genuinely considering, especially when you started walking towards him, until you stood between his parted legs and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“But it’s extra baggage. We gotta take all the other stuff with us…”

Chris could always trust you to be worried about these things. Of course you’d be worried about your practically weightless babydolls somehow taking enough space that you’d have to sacrifice all the other supplies you were both taking to his house in the woods. As if that could somehow ruin the preparations for the full moon next week…

It honestly made it much worse for him and his will to stay put, because not only did you look finger-licking good in your little outfit, but you were once again showing your commitment to your pack. Both were equally as effective in riling him up.

“Pretty”, Chris brought both hands to your chest to push your breasts together, creating the perfect space for him to bury his face into. He pressed a few kisses on the soft flesh, right before he started mumbling against your skin. “It’ll be fine. Everything will fit just fine. I’d even put these in the car’s glove box, my pockets, anywhere if necessary, as long as I can see you wearing them there”.

His mouth easily found one of your nipples, he teased it with his tongue over the fabric before sucking it into his mouth. It had been almost automatic, when he registered what he was doing he briefly worried he was, as usual, getting carried away.

That worry was very short-lived. One of your hands moved from his shoulder to his head, where you buried your fingers in his hair with a satisfied hum. Meanwhile, his hands found the back of your thighs, so he could gently knead the luscious flesh.

“You want just to see me in them?”

The suggestive lilt in your words made him smile, enough that he let your breast fall out of his mouth so he could smile brightly at you. “Oh, don’t worry, love. I stand by what I said. I’ll fuck you in every single one of them, in ever single room of the house, over every single surface. Multiple times, too. Anything you let me do, and anything you want, I’ll do it”.

You leaned down to finally give him a kiss. He’d been dying to kiss you since you showed him the very first babydoll, but it seemed like you had no plans to let him kiss you as much as he would’ve liked. At least not for now. Instead, you dropped to your knees, right there between his legs, before your hands found his thighs.

Your nails sunk on his skin, and the way you were looking at him, coupled with the almost teasing caresses on his thighs, were bringing him even closer to his snapping point.

Pretty mate… Pretty mate in her pretty gown… Take her. Must take her now…

Chris was trying very hard to ignore his instincts, to keep his logical human side at the forefront of his mind, but it was just so hard when you were looking him right in the eyes, with that look of yours that just made his head spin. It was almost like you knew he was close to his limit, because you finally leaned in further, until your lips found the base of his length, where you pressed a kiss with a hum.

“That doesn’t sound too bad…”

He leaned back on his hands as you kept leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on his skin, until you reached the very tip of his cock and licked the frenulum on the underside. 

As Chris took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as he got hit with the smell of your scent and the feel of your mouth around him, he wasn’t sure if this specific babydoll you were wearing would make it to his house…

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

tagging everyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

@comet-falls · @princelingperfect · @notastraykid · @iadorethemskz @kileidoscope · @maknae00 · @dundullresident · @vitrealisbunny · @yeetfellx · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @oiminho · @binchangf · @leedunno · @luxsonny · @mamieishere · @straylightdream · @bintificreads · @seo--changbin · @abcdefgiwsmcty · @ppiri-bahng · @letsbangchanblog · @fun-fanfics · @armystay89 · @iightsung · @cutiespaghetti · @noellllslut · @100layersofdaddyissues · @toplinehyunjin · @tartshearts · @biribarabiribbaem · @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad · @stayconnecteed · @floatingcoffecup · @5starlee · @ven-fic-recs

Thank you Precious 😭😭🥹🥹

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬-BangChan&Minho

A/N:Here we Go!But this are just bang chan and Minho the others will follow soon 

Genre:🌻 - Fluff

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐧:

You and Bang Chan had a Son his name is Jae he is 7 Months old.

You  where with Jae outside JYP waiting For Chris to come out.Jae was  giggling and babbling with his dummy in his mouth, he was sitting in his  stroller.

You giggle"Jae are you exited to see Daddy?“ He Giggle “Dada” You eyes got wide “What did you say Baby?”

Jae look to the door where Bang Chan was walking out.He points at him “Dada…” Chris came to you and gave you a kiss.

“hey  Baby how are you two?“You hug him "We are fine but…."Right as you where  about o tell Bang Chan what just Jae just said,Jae begins to whine  wanting attention form his Dad.

"Dada……Dada……Dada!"Chris looks  down at Jae and takes Jae from his stroller into his arms.Who am I  Jae?"Jae giggle and took his dummy out "Dada” Chris kissed Jaes whole  face you giggle “you two are cute…..but can we go Home and Cuddle how  does that sound?”

Chris nod and Jae babbled and squealed you chuckle “I take this as a Yes”

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 (𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨):

You wake up and groan you look at  your Daughter Yunai, she was sleeping in her crib.You where about to  stand up but something stopped you.

Arms pulled you back"Hmm.Jagi  where are going"You turned aroun and looked at Minho “I Wanted to make  breakfast” Minho pulled you closer to him.

You smiled and locked   up at him He smiled and kissed your Lips “Can i now get up please"Ge   groan "Fine” You smile and kissed him again.

You walked in the   Kitchen Minho followed you with Yunai in his arms she was on his   hip,her head was in his neck and she was  snoring cutely.Minho gave her head a kiss and sat down on the kitchen counter stool (does that make   sense..?i hope you understand what i mean)Yunai still in his arms.

You  begin cutting fruit for Yunai then you made Coffee for you and  Minho.“Minho can you wake YuYu up please?” He nod .“Yunai Baby wake up  breakfast is ready” She whine and look up at her Father Minho smiled at  her and sat her down in her Highchair she babbled loudly as she saw the  Plate full of fruit you set it down in front of her and got up again to  get the Coffee for You and Minho and sat down beside Yunai.She pointed  at the Strawberry Minho who sat on the other side hold up a  Strawberry “You want a Strawberry YuYu?”

She Giggle   “Strawberry…..” You look at her “Say that again Baby” She looke d at   you"S-Straw-b-berry?“ Minho gave her one and she happily chewed on it.

Minho looks at her "I cant belive her first word was Strawberry I thought it would be Mommy or better Daddy"You smile at him.

[10:30pm]  |Royal AU | F |

Genre: Chan x Reader

🌻 - Fluff

✔️ - Completed

Y/n Pov

I was sitting in the throne Room on my seat.I was watching my Son Joo-Chan (He was Named after his Father) play with his Baby Sister Chin-Sun she was 6 Months old and Joo-Chan was 4 Years old.They have a beautiful Bond,every time I watch them play around I have a big smile on my face.

“Joo-Chan Be care full please...”I said walking over to him and his sister you sat down beside him.Chin-Sun looks at me ab babbled something and crawled over to me.Most of the time she says things like “Ma” Or “Pa”

“Hey Cutie wanna come to Mommy?” I asked her sweetly she made grabby hand to me “Ma..”I pull her in my arms and kissed her chubby cheeks both of my Children have round cheeks with Dimples from their Dad it looks so cute.

“Hey Darling there you 3 are I searched for you” I heard my husband so I stood up with Chin-Sun on my Hip “Hey Channie I missed you” Chan walked towards me and Hus me and then opens his arms for Joo-Chan.

Joo-Chan runns in to his fathers arms “Daddy You are back..I missed you” Chan pulls him up into his arms”I missed you all to but I had to go help your Uncle Jisung since your Auntie just got a baby a few Days ago..” I looked at him with wide eyes “Woah really? Is is a Boy or a Girl” Chan kissed the top of his sons head “Its a little princess” I cooed “Aww so cute” I heard a wine “Paaaaa” Chan Smiles so I can see his dimples “There is my favorite Princess”

I pout “What about me?” Chan chuckles and kisses my Lips “You are my Beautiful Queen” I smiled shyly at him and pecked his lips “Paaaa....”chan let his son down and softly pulls our Daughter in his arms and smooched her face “Hello there Baby Girl”

“Joo-Chan Baby Lets get you to bed okay?” He put “But I wanna play with Daddy” I sight “You can play tomorrow Baby your Dad is tired and needs to sleep like you” I said with a soft tone he yawns and nods his head and walks into my arms I put him on my hip and turned back to my Husband “Love I am gonna put Joo-Chan to bed Can you put our Princess to sleep?” Chan nods “Okey”

I walked with my sleepy son in my arms to his room a Mair came to me “Oh Queen do you need help?” I smile “No thank you I will put him to sleep” She nods and bows and I continue walking towards my sons room.

His head was on my  shoulder his arms around my neck and his eyed began to drop.I smile at him “See baby I told you that you are sleepy” He giggles “Nuuuu I am fully awake” I kiss his cheek “Of course you are” We reaced his room and I open his door.

I changed him into his sleep cloths and put him into his bed “Sleep tight baby” He waves his little hand “Night Night Mommy” I kissed his head softly.

I walked out of the room and softly closed the door and walked to My and Chans room as I open the door I saw no one so i go wash my Face and Changed into my sleep dress and walked into the room of My Daughter and saw Chan Feeding her a Bottle while humming a song I walked up behind him and pt my arms around him he looks at me and smiles I smile back and looked at Chin-Sun.

Her eyes where closed and she was sucking on the almost empty bottle.A few minutes later she was finished and I gave Chan her Pacifier and he put it in her mouth she intimidatingly began to suck on it.I stroke her cheek and chan put her down in her crib he kissed her other cheek and we leaved her room.

Chan puts his arms around me and attacked my Neck with little kisses,bites and pecks “Lets go to bed Love I bet you are tired from your long journey”Chan hums “Yes please I sleeped miserable cuz you weren't there to cuddle me” I smiled and closed the door of our room.

Chan changes his clothes and comes to me.He lays down besides me with his head in my Neck sometimes kissing it.I put my hand into his hair.”I missed sleeping like this” I nod and kiss  his head “Me to even if it was just days”

“Good Night Darling”Chan Kissed my Lips for a few second  I pulled away “Good night sleep Tight Love”  

With that we drifted of to sleep.

[10:00pm]  |Royal AU | F |

Genre: Minho x Reader

🌻 - Fluff

✔️ - Completed

Y/n Pov:

I was sitting in our Rose Garden everywhere you look are different colored roses.The Moon was shining in my Face.

I was looking at the Rose in my hands,The Rose was dark red,Since it rained last night drops of water ran down the rose it looked beautiful.

I was torn from my daydream by a gentle voice  “There you are my Babys” I looked up and saw my Husband Minho “Hello Love” Minho crunched down in front of me and touched my swollen Belly.Yes I am 7 Months Pregnant.He kissed my belly and then took my face in his hands,touching my Cheeks softly.

 I kissed his lips softly,he directly kissed me back with so much love.We where kissing until I heard a Tiny voice calling me “Mommy...Daddy” We broke our kiss and Minho turned around and opens his arms “Hey Princess How are you?and what are you doing here dont you have to sleep?” She run into his arms “I was but then I had a Nightmare and walken in your room to cuddle but your werent there so I searched for you and then I remember that Mommy loves this garden so  came here ”you smiled at her “Come here baby”She walked over to you and touched your belly”How is my Baby Brother/Sister today Mommy?” You pat her head “She/He Is fine but She/He is moving much more than yesterday wanna feel her?”

She nod excited her head “Can I?” I just nod and took her hand and put it where i feel her sibling moving she looked at me with big eyes “Wow this fells so cool...Daddy Feel this”She babbled without a break Minho smiles and put his much bigger hand over our Daughters small hand.”Feels Cool right” She nod and kissed my belly”I cant wait to meet you I will give you sooo much love and Mommy and Daddy too..Sometimes they can be a big meany but i loven with all my heart and you will too”You can literally feel your heart melting at your daughters words and Minho kissed her dead “we love you too lets get you back to bed now”

I stood up and minho hold my hand Our Daughter on his hip,her head was resting on his shoulder her eyes where getting droopy meaning she was tired.I pulled My Husband hand up to my lips and kissed the back of his hand he smiled at me and kissed my cheeks.

We where walking to the room of our Princess as we get there she was alredy asleep with a cute smile that looked like Minhos,she generally looked so much like Minho she only has my eyes.Minho gave her to me and pulled her blanked down so I could lay her in her bed.He pulls her blanked up and I gave her her favorite cuddly toy a little plush Cat.We had Cats our self to be exact 3 cat Soongi,Doongi and Dori but they where somewhere in the Castle We kissed her head and walked out of the room we walked to our bedroom and open the door.

Minho directly walked over to the bed and let himself falling on it he let out a sight “I am so tired” I giggle and put on my Sleeping dress as I came back Minho still was laying on the bed eyes closed I smile and walked over to him and layed myself down beside him “Love I think you should Change your clothes It is not so comfortable to sleep in this” He sights again “Your right Darling I will be back in a few seconds” I nod and made myself comfortable and pulled the blanked over me.Minho came back after a few Minutes,he lays down besides me and i open my arms “cuddle with us?” He smiles and nod.

i turned my back to him and he puts one of his hand on my belly and draws circles on it I relaxed in his hold,his other hand was in my hair.I hum “I love you Baby” He kissed my head “I love you to Darling,both of you” I turned my head to him and he kissed my lips.The kiss was deep and passionate.after a few minutes we pulled away he gave me a little peck on ma cheeks,nose,forehead and lastly my lips.I smiled at him

“Good Night my love”

“Sleep well my Darling”

[02:30am]  |Royal AU | F |

Genre: Seungmin x Reader

🌻 - Fluff

✔️ - Completed

Y/N Pov:

I just got Married to the love of my Life Price Seungmin or should I say King Seungmin

I know Seungmin since we where Children and later we fall in Love with each other My Parents where so Happy to hear that His Parents and ofc Seungmin came over to Eat with us at our Castle and the agreed to our Marriage.

Now its was the Night after our Marriage and Seungmin was in the large Bed ,already in his sleep clothes, waiting for me to go to sleep. I was standing in front the big Mirror opening my Hair that was braided.the I brushed my hair.

After I finished brushing my hair I turned around to look at Seungmin,he was reading a Book.”Darling could you help me please?I cant open the Dress alone”He put down the Book on the Nightstand and stood up and walked behind me “Of course Love”  I hold up my Hair and he began to open my Weeding dress.

Seungmin gave me a kiss on my Shoulder.After a few seconds the dress fell of my Body and landed on the floor I stepped out of it and Seungmin began to open my corset.I felt his fingers sometimes brush softly against my back.I looked in through the mirror “I am happy” he looks up “Why?” My smile got brighter “Because I could Marry the love of my life”

 I turned my head around to look at him and he kissed my lips softly “I am happy I have such a beautiful Wife and Queen” I kissed his cheeks. After a few seconds the corset was open and I walked over to the Closet and pull out my sleeping dress.

Seungmin was already back on the bed.I walked over to him and lay down besides him and he opens his arms for me.I scooted closer to him and he wrapped his arms me holding me close with no space between us.Seungmin kissed my head”I still can remember when we played Hide and Seek in the garden” I looked up in his eyes “And I will never forget how you gave me the White Rose on the bench and asked me to be your Queen as a Joke and now we are here...An you are the King and a handsome King.”

Seungmin Kissed my Lips “And you are a beautiful Queen Love” I let out a tiny Giggle “Lets sleep now Darling its late and we have busy day tomorrow”He nods his head and he puts his head on my shoulder and gave me a few Kisses their,this made me love him even more if that is possible.

“Good Night my Handsome King”

“Good Night my Beautiful Queen”

I really like writing time stamps~

I hope you are satisfied and like this little imagine~

I love you Angels

With love Ha-Neul~

Here are 2 Pictures of Seungmin I  really love(Even if i love every Picture of him cuz he is just too cute)

(He looks so cute in this fuffy Jacked)

(This is my Wallpaper Hehe)

I Love you all and thank you for all your love and support i like getting request and hope you enjoy reading my Imagines/Fanfictions

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵

FLUFF

1.“Cuddle with me?“

2.“Baby are you drunk?“

3.“Aww“

4.“Can we get a Cat/Dog?“

5.“Please?“

6.“Good Morning Love“

7.“How was your Day Baby?“

8.“I love you“

9.“Will you Marry me?“

10.“Can we have a Baby?“

11.“Its Okay Baby“

12.“Calm down“

13.“I missed you“

14.“You are so cute“

15.“Are you sick?“

16.“Period “

17.“Showering“

18.“You are Perfect the way you are“

19.“You are Beautiful/Pretty“

20.“Don´t stare at me! / Stop staring at me!“

21.“Why are you awake?“

22.“Don’t worry“

23.“I just lost all my Uwu´s“

24.“Why are you sad?“

25.“Lets have a Movie Night“

26.“Lets go on a Date Baby“

27.“Give me Attention! Please?“

28.“5 more Minutes“

29.“I Love you more than I love myself“

30.“Stay. Please“

ANGST

31.“I’m sorry“

32.“It’s all your fault!“

33.“I hate you“

34.“I’m always wrong in your Eyes!“

35.“Please“

36.“Just listen to me“

37.“Cut the bullshit!“

38.“I don’t care!“

39.“Don’t fucking touch me“

40.“Stop being a bitch!“

41.“Get out of my sight!Now!“

42“I was wrong“

43..“Are you okay?“

44.“Are you going to keep ignoring me“

45.“Lets talk“

46.“I miss you“

47.“I can’t keep doing this“

48.“Why are you here?“

49.“How Many hours did you sleep last Night?“

SMUT

50.“Strip“

51.“Daddy“

52.“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad“

53.“Wanna Shower with me?“

54.“Behave“

55.“Baby Girl/Boy“

56.“Such a good Girl/Boy“

57“.Don’t Stop please“

58.“Does that feel good Princess/Price“

59.“Fuck, baby you’re so tight

60.“I can’t hear you“

61.“Don’t you dare to make a sound“

62.“P-please s-s-stop!“

62.“T-to M-Much...Daddy“

63.“Be patient“

64.“Open wide Baby“

65.“Stay still for me, princess“

66.“Tell me Baby....what do you want“

67.“On your knees...NOW“

68.“Swallow“

69.“You feel so good “

70.“So fucking pretty“

71.“Mine. Only mine“

72.“Scream my Name Baby Girl/Boy“

73.“Don’t you dare to cum until I say so“

74.“Cum for me, Baby“

75.“Choke me“

76.“Harder Daddy“

77.“You’re drooling“

78.“Who do you belong to?”

79.”You are so sexy”

80.”I Need you...Now“

Sleepy/Cozy prompts

81.“The bed is cold without you”

82.“I can’t sleep, you’ve been gone too long”

83.I’m sorry my bed is so old

84.“Carry me up to bed?”

85.“Can we at least still sleep in the same bed?”

86.“When you sleep, you snore.”

87.“You look so much softer, so much calmer, I wish you could see yourself as you sleep.”

88.“We could…take a nap together?”

89.“Sleeping with you was the best sleep I’ve gotten in years.” 

90.“I-I miss your arms around me as I slept, I know it’s embarrassing but you made me feel safe.”

91.“You sleep with the stuffed animal I got you?” “Of course”

92.“Your pillow smells like lavender”

93.“Goodnight love, I’ll see you in my dreams.”

94.“You smell like vanilla.”

95.“Will you carry me to bed?”

96.“Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep.”

97.“Stop moving I’m trying to sleep”

98.“It’s just a nightmare, it’s nothing real.”

99.“You should sleep in my bed more often.”

AUs

100.Historical 

101.Future 

102.Coffee Shop

103.Bar/Restaurant

104.Florist 

105.Tattoo Artist

106.Hospital 

107.Library 

108.Royal

109.Ghost

110.Time Travel

110.Neighbor/Roommate 

112.Bodyguard

113.Criminal 

114.Police

115.Prison 

116.High School 

117.College 

118.Teacher

119.Singer 

120.Dance/Ballet

121.Actor

123.Soulmate

124.Magic(Dragons,Fairy,etc...)

125.Werewolves/Vampires

126.Mermaids/Sirens

127.Angel/Devil 

128.Gods

129.Hybrid

130.Poly Relationship

Tropes

131.Sick/Injured

132.Scars

133.Baby/Child

134.Vacation 

135.Fake Dating/Married

136.Arranged Marriage 

137.Accidentally Married

138.Friends to Lovers

139.Enemies to Lovers

140.Masquerade Ball

141.Locked in a Room

142.Making Out

143.Bed Sharing  

144.Twenty-Four Hours to Live 

Kisses

145.'Kisses under the moonlight

146.Bloodstained kisses

147.Kisses in the dark

158.Soft kisses

159.Forehead kisses

160.Hair Kisses

161.Kisses in the Rain

162.Nose Kisses

𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

163.I think I am in love with you

164. can I kiss you

165.say that you like me back

166. you are too much for me

167. you are the only one for me

168.“ we need to breakup ”

169. “ can I have your number ”

170.“pleas don’t go ”

171. “..where do you want my hands ..”

172.“.. you are mine ..”

173. “.. he has no chance next to me..”

174. “.. you are my everything..”

174.“.. nothing is holding you from going ..”

175. “.. I don’t like you anymore ..”

176.“.. I am not happy anymore..”

177.“.. can I touch you there ?..”

178.“ … you love me don’t you?..”

179.“..i love your smell ..”

180. “… I have been waiting for you..:

181. ”..you are so beautiful..“

182. ”.. don’t call me baby girl ..“

183. ”..I am her boyfreind..:

184. “.. damn you look so sexy ..”

184. “ .. did I turn you on ..”

185. “..cuddle mee.. ”

186. “ it’s time to say goodbye then..”

187. “..can you be my first..”

188.“..I need you ..”

189.“.. you deserve better ..”

190. “.. I can’t stop loving you

191.”.. you make me weak..“

192.”..stay please ..“

193.”.. don’t talk to other boys ..“

194.”.. do you want to go out on a date with me..“

195.”.. you are the only one in my heart ..“

196.”..don’t compare yourself to them they aren’t you love..“

197.” I see myself in your eyes ..“

198.”..i love it when it rains..“

199.”..let’s take a break..“

200.”.. let me show you something ..“

201.”..can we just talk ..“

202.”..we are running in circles..“

203.”..pleaas talk to meee.. “

204.”…aren’t you snowing a lot of skin…“

205. ”..you are so comfy..“

206.”..I won’t break your heart ..“

207.”..I want us to be more than friends..“

208.”..dont ignore me ..“

209.”..you are just soo cute ..“

210.”..I ship us..“

If you have a Request just send the Number/Numbers from this list and the Name of the Member~

I Write

Stray Kids

Bts

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬-BangChan&Minho

A/N:Here we Go!But this are just bang chan and Minho the others will follow soon 

Genre:🌻 - Fluff

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐧:

You and Bang Chan had a Son his name is Jae he is 7 Months old.

You  where with Jae outside JYP waiting For Chris to come out.Jae was  giggling and babbling with his dummy in his mouth, he was sitting in his  stroller.

You giggle"Jae are you exited to see Daddy?" He Giggle "Dada" You eyes got wide "What did you say Baby?"

Jae look to the door where Bang Chan was walking out.He points at him "Dada..." Chris came to you and gave you a kiss.

"hey  Baby how are you two?"You hug him "We are fine but...."Right as you where  about o tell Bang Chan what just Jae just said,Jae begins to whine  wanting attention form his Dad.

"Dada......Dada......Dada!"Chris looks  down at Jae and takes Jae from his stroller into his arms.Who am I  Jae?"Jae giggle and took his dummy out "Dada" Chris kissed Jaes whole  face you giggle "you two are cute.....but can we go Home and Cuddle how  does that sound?"

Chris nod and Jae babbled and squealed you chuckle "I take this as a Yes"

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 (𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨):

You wake up and groan you look at  your Daughter Yunai, she was sleeping in her crib.You where about to  stand up but something stopped you.

Arms pulled you back"Hmm.Jagi  where are going"You turned aroun and looked at Minho "I Wanted to make  breakfast" Minho pulled you closer to him.

You smiled and locked   up at him He smiled and kissed your Lips "Can i now get up please"Ge   groan "Fine" You smile and kissed him again.

You walked in the   Kitchen Minho followed you with Yunai in his arms she was on his   hip,her head was in his neck and she was  snoring cutely.Minho gave her head a kiss and sat down on the kitchen counter stool (does that make   sense..?i hope you understand what i mean)Yunai still in his arms.

You  begin cutting fruit for Yunai then you made Coffee for you and  Minho."Minho can you wake YuYu up please?" He nod ."Yunai Baby wake up  breakfast is ready" She whine and look up at her Father Minho smiled at  her and sat her down in her Highchair she babbled loudly as she saw the  Plate full of fruit you set it down in front of her and got up again to  get the Coffee for You and Minho and sat down beside Yunai.She pointed  at the Strawberry Minho who sat on the other side hold up a  Strawberry "You want a Strawberry YuYu?"

She Giggle   "Strawberry....." You look at her "Say that again Baby" She looke d at   you"S-Straw-b-berry?" Minho gave her one and she happily chewed on it.

Minho looks at her "I cant belive her first word was Strawberry I thought it would be Mommy or better Daddy"You smile at him.

~masterlist~

🍬: fluff, 🌧️: angst, 🌶️: smut, 🕯️: suggestive, 🍿: humor, 🤡: crack fic, ❓: request, 📱: smau

posted:

dating advice (the seungmin way) : (felix x changbin) felix doesn’t know how to ask changbin out. seungmin “helps” him. minho revels in the chaos. 🤡🍿📱

in progress:

chrysanthemum: (felix x reader) y/n has been feeling lost and invisible for a while, and it all comes to a head when their roommate jisung announces he’s moving in with his boyfriend. jisung’s friend felix notices something’s wrong and shows y/n they’re not so invisible after all. (request by @sushiinmidnight) 🌧️🍬❓

requests are open !! see my intro post for guidelines.

~intro post wahoo~

who i am

hi, you can call me blue!!

i’m an american (unfortunately) college student who got into skz/kpop in 2023. i speak english, spanish, and a bit of korean/german/swedish. i am nonbinary (they/them pronouns), autistic, ADHD, and gay as hell. if you’re racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, a pedo, a trump supporter, or anything of the sort, feel free to fuck right off 🩵

what i do

fic masterlist here!

i write fics (when i have the time or brain energy - again, i am a neurodivergent college student), edit short videos/song mashups, and post silly little things that pop into my head. i’m mostly skz-based but might write/post things for ateez, txt, enhypen, (g)i-dle, or dreamcatcher (rip). i’m always open for song/group recs!!

my ult bias is lee know (i’m so down bad for that man) but i love all of skz and if you come for any of my boys, you come for me. my biases in other groups are hongjoong/seonghwa, yeonjun, heeseung/sunoo, and yuqi.

requests

my requests are open, for smaus or written fics! here are some guidelines:

groups: i’m most comfortable writing for skz but would consider writing for any of the groups listed above

ships: member x member, member x reader, or any polyamorous combination are all up for grabs

18+ content: i’ve never written smut before, but i’m open to trying. if you ask for something and i try to write it and get uncomfortable, i’ll tell you and you can ask someone else.

things i WILL NOT WRITE: rape/non-con, incest, pedophilia, large age gaps. unhealthy relationships between members or members/reader because that would make me sad. woojin, because i didn’t go here when all that went down and don’t really know him/don’t want to get involved in that controversy. more might be added if i think of more things. if you’re unsure whether i’d be willing to write something or not, ask.

guarantees/timeline: as i’ve mentioned, i’m a neurodivergent college student and this blog is not a priority for me, just something i do for fun in my limited free time. if you ask for something, it might be a while before i write it or i might not write it at all. i’m sorry. life happens. if i KNOW i won’t write something, i’ll try to tell you so i don’t leave you on a cliffhanger lol

and that’s all i can think of for now! lmk if you have any questions. love y’all <3

Hi guys! This isn’t an update, it’s a question. I’m feeling very tempted to write my own fics, not just fake texts. I do write fanfic too, but for other fandoms, and I’m always curious to try with Stray Kids. So tell me…

THIIIIISSSS OMG THIIIISSS 😍😍

date a skater | jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

word-count: 6.3k

genre: romance, skater au, friends-to-lovers

warnings: swearing, making-out, honestly this is quite tame and adorable, just two young dorks in love

summary:

“Of course I want to watch you skate,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not some kind of asshole. You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Jisung replies automatically.

part of the six month anniversary drabble event!

prompts: “the skirt is supposed to be this short” “hold my hand so he gets jealous”

Keep reading

HIII MY LOVE

i was just wondering if you could do something with a foreigner!reader, who doesn’t speak korean, with han?? where they have a hard time communicating but they still wanna be together??

(btw if you have anons can i be 🪻??)

hi, love~ this was so cute, really interesting to write . this took a while but it was so worth it hehe . yes you can, my first emoji anon yayy . here you go~~

i want to understand you - (han jisung x female!reader)

pairing: idol!han jisung x female!reader

summary: the language barrier between you and jisung stops your true feelings from being communicated.

genre: angsty but happy ending, idol!au, reader is a stylist, mentions of injuries, blood, cuts, bandages, antiseptics, broken glass, jisung doesn't like being injured, chan's iconic smirk comeback, hints to chanlix and minsung, mentions of wrestling, kissing, nothing too intense i promise

a/n: this is one of my fav fics that i've written tbh . everything in bold + italic is spoken in korean. just a note !

skz masterlist

"How long have you been watching him?" Felix whispers into your ear.

"Huh?"

He smirks, nodding his head towards Jisung, who's currently messing about on set with Minho. "You've been watching him."

You scoff and push him away. "No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

Groaning, you brush past Felix and wander past the cameras to the other side of the MV set. It's almost midday; the sun beats down relentlessly on the pavements outside, bathing everything in a bright glow, but inside the warehouse, the lights are dimmed in shades of red, green and white, casting an eerie palette over the broken glass and haphazard items scattered about the dusty floor.

Your eyes wander to one of the camera tripods; 'ESCAPE FILMING' is written on a piece of masking tape and stuck to the side. Your gaze flits to Chan and Hyunjin; both of them are raggedy, slender figures in heavy coats and coarse clothing. They're busy talking to their manager; you duck off to the side and run straight into Felix again.

You groan. "Go away."

"Come on," he murmurs. "Go talk to him."

It's been almost a month since you took the job as a stylist with JYPE; it had been interesting, to say the least. The members took to you immediately, teasing and friendly within a couple of days. You were in awe; they were such professionals you'd been assigned to work around, but one of them had caught your eye.

Jisung.

You feel your cheeks warm as you watch him; Felix is motionless beside you, no doubt smirking, but your heart sinks as you hear the distant lilt of excitable Korean floating over the set to your ears.

"Y/n, go," Felix insists. "Talk to him."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" You whip around to face him. "I don't speak Korean, and he doesn't know enough English to be fluent in a conversation with me."

"He sings in English," Felix points out, adjusting the cuff of his hoodie. His black cap- Chan's cap- sits low on his head.

"That's because he has you and Chan to help him." You groan.

This would be so much easier if the rest of the members weren't here. You wonder what they're here for, anyway; they said they came to support Chan and Hyunjin while they filmed their music video, but you have a sneaking suspicion it was just to get out of an extra dance practice Chan scheduled for the remaining members while he was away. No doubt the maknaes' idea.

You'd fought to stay focused on doing Hyunjin's makeup that same morning; he hadn't missed the way your hand shook around your eyeshadow brush when Jisung had breezed in with a cheerful shout. If Hyunjin had noticed, he hadn't said anything, and the resulting makeup look had thankfully turned out just fine.

"Y/n."

You whip around so fast your neck hurts, and you almost trip over your own feet as you come face-to-face with Jisung. He's dressed casually, as most of the members are; his grey zip hoodie is slightly dusty, loose black jeans showing a peek of startingly white shoes beneath their hems.

His face is bare, void of makeup, and you can see the healthy pink flush on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. His lashes blink away strands of un-styled, dark hair falling into his face; he sweeps it back effortlessly with two fingers, and his wide eyes fix themselves onto your own, a cheerful grin painting his lips.

You look around wildly for Felix to save you; he's conveniently disappeared into thin air, and you curse inwardly as you're forced to face Jisung once more. There's nowhere to run.

"Hi." Your voice sounds thin and awkward.

"Hi." He replies, an equally awkward but adorable smile curving his mouth further. Even the simple syllable sounds odd and unfamiliar to him, it seems. Tinged with his accent, the sound coming out of his mouth looks like he tasted something unusual; new and curious, but strange.

Foreign.

You stutter, unable to comprise a singular sentence. Even if you were able to at the moment, it's unlikely Jisung will understand. The past few interactions with him have shown you that.

You try anyway. "Did you need something?"

He blinks. Takes apart each word in his mind, turns his cognitive gears, and a dawning sense of confusion appears on his face despite the effort to understand. "Chan-hyung ruined his makeup again. He's busy with his outfit, but he sent me to ask you if you could quickly touch it up for him? If you're not busy..."

You're running, sprinting even, to keep up with Jisung's rapid pace of speaking. Korean tumbles out of his mouth in a smooth waterfall, each word naturally clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle.

For you, though, it's like looking at the completed picture upside down. It just doesn't make sense, and you can't tell what's he's asking by his tone like you have before.

"Chan?" You say, questioning. It was the only word you caught.

He nods once, then faster. "His makeup." He points to his leader, a distance away, who is redoing his belt and pulling on his coarse jacket for the next scene.

Jisung points to Chan again, then to his own face. He points to the crossbody bag across your waist, full of your stylist tools, and mimes swiping a brush across his cheeks.

"Oh," you say. "His makeup?"

Jisung nods frantically. You fight a smile; makeup and snacks are the only English words he seems to understand at the moment. Couldn't say you wouldn't have been the same way.

You nod once to him and awkwardly brush past him to go to Chan.

Jisung watches you go.

Chan turns round as you approach, bowing sheepishly as you pull several brushes and a chrome palette from your bag.

"Sorry for ruining it," he says as he closes his eyes. You chuckle and redo the look with a few simple strokes, and step back to make sure it's neat. You swipe a pinky across his cheekbone to remove any excess. "I saw you and Jisung talking."

You sigh. "Wasn't really talking. More..."

"Confusion?" Chan offers with a smile.

You poke him in the side and he shies away, grinning. "How long were you watching us?"

He shrugs casually, looking away. "The whole time."

You groan, cheeks flushing as he laughs. "I wish I could speak Korean fluently... Learning it takes so long, and there aren't any translating apps I can use on a day-to-day basis."

Chan does look at you then, expression empathetic. "I know it's inconvenient, Y/n, but you're making progress. Just keep at it, and while you and Jisung are both learning each other's languages, it'll become easier to communicate over time."

You look towards Jisung, who's currently reenacting the wrestling scene with Seungmin. Rapid, unfamiliar words tumble from the members' mouths at the speed of light as they laugh and clap, and you smile as Jisung emerges from underneath Seungmin with his dark hair covered in feathers.

You sigh. "I hope so."

Chan sighs, touching your shoulder in reassurance. Looking past you, he gazes fondly over the seven members, unaware of you both watching them, and chuckles. "I thought Hyunjin and I were gonna get this music video filming done fast, but... apparently not."

You smile. "I don't think they were too fond of having to do extra practice while you were away."

Chan rolls his eyes and you laugh as he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further. There's a yelp from behind you, and Chan whips around, faster than lightning. The members have gone silent.

You're both just in time to see Jisung fall off the mattress. His hand scrapes awkwardly along the floor, where tiny fragments of glass from the stunt filming earlier scatter throughout the dust. A deep red line opens up along his forearm, and Chan swears before dashing to his side.

You come up behind Felix, calling to one of the crew members to find a tissue and water as Chan sits Jisung down properly on the mattress, brushing aside feathers.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks in worry, cradling his member's hand.

Jisung winces as a wet rivulet of blood drops onto the floor. The rest of the boys burst into concerned murmurs, jostling to see. You push past Minho with a pack of tissues, handing them to Chan. Cracking open the top of a water bottle, you dampen the centre of a folded piece of tissue and dab it gently along Jisung's forearm. He groans and attempts to pull away, but his leader holds his arm firmly, murmuring reassurance.

"There's a spare room down one of the warehouse corridors," you say to Chan. "I went there earlier to set my things up. There's a first aid kit in there."

"Is there no one on set with one already?" He says, strained. You bite your lip and look to the crew, who all look away, seemingly distracted.

Chan actually growls then, making you recoil, and mutters something that might have either been a string of expletives or a complaint about crew disorganisation.

You suppose his reaction is justified either way.

Folding the water-damp, bloodied tissue, you tuck it into your pocket and stand up. "I can take him to the room there and clean the cut," you offer. "Might be easier without all the glass around."

Chan nods, holding a hand to Jisung to stand up. "I can come with both of you-"

"No," you say firmly. "Focus on filming with Hyunjin. It's getting late and I know both of you want to be done with it. I'll take care of him."

Chan bites his lip in anxiety, clearly struggling to make the decision between staying on set and going with Jisung, but Hyunjin puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get the rest of the shots done, Chan-hyung," he says. "Y/n is more than capable of taking care of the injury."

You blink, not understanding, but it seems to be enough to reassure Chan, who nods and turns away. Hyunjin follows him, and the rest of the members meekly disperse behind the cameras, far quieter than before.

You wind between crew members and filming equipment before heading down the main back corridor of the warehouse, where a spare room splits off into four smaller rooms down the way. Heading into the second door on the right, you hold the door open for Jisung before pulling out the first aid kit from a duffel bag.

You point to a chair as he closes the door. The metal of the knob is scarlet as he lets go. "Sit."

He sits and you place the kit on the cabinet, unzipping a pouch and pulling out a bandage, an antiseptic wipe, and another pack of tissues. Trying to ignore your hands shaking as you do so, you feel your cheeks warm as Jisung shuffles on the chair, a muffled disturbance in the sudden stillness of the room.

You're alone with him.

Biting your lip in an all-too-aware consciousness of the situation, you pull a chair to sit next to him, setting down the items on the plastic table. He rests his arm on the surface as you rip open the antiseptic packet, and then pause.

Gingerly, you place a light hand on his wrist and pull his forearm closer to you, beginning to gently swipe the wet wipe across the cut. A faint smell of chemical rises in the air, and Jisung discreetly exhales, making you crack a tiny smile.

His forearm is tense; you can see the stress of the situation, visible in his body language. The wipe clearly stings him, becoming redder by the minute. He lets out a tiny start, obviously fighting to keep quiet.

You can see him beginning to squirm, his bottom lip caught flush between his teeth as he chews on it in distress.

"Jisung," you say softly, pausing the cleaning to give him a break. "It's okay. You're doing well."

He doesn't respond, focused on the wound. Then, taking a deep breath, his wide eyes meet yours and he gives a tiny nod, signalling for you to continue.

You've cleaned about half of the injury's surrounding area; feeling unbelievably bold, you stroke a gentle thumb across the inside of his wrist as you swipe scarlet off his bare skin, attempting to calm him. He relaxes suddenly, and the exhale of a deeply-held breath fans lightly across your face, stirring your hair. It does nothing to cool the tension building between the both of you.

You fumble to stuff the used, damp wipe back into the packet. Jisung's eyes follow you intently; he seems to have recovered from the initial shock of injury.

He watches curiously as you tilt your head to the side, inspecting the cut, before unravelling a length of a clean rolled bandage. You lay it flat on the clean table before unwrapping four sheets of fluffy gauze, laying it on top. You undo the top off of a small tube of ointment.

"What's that?" He says.

There's a clear question in his tone; taking a wild guess, you hold up the tube. He nods.

"This? Ointment. It's to keep the wound moist," you reply. You're not sure why you bothered; he doesn't understand it anyway, and he just nods politely before continuing to gaze at the tube, most likely attempting to piece its use together in his head.

You let out a tiny sigh, almost fuming at the inconvenience of it all. You want to talk to him, understand him. But you keep quiet, clamp it down, and continue to smear the cream gently across the wound edges with a finger.

He's no longer watching the application of the cream, though; his gaze is fixed intently on your face, as if he's trying to see through you to the other side of the room. You know he's watching; you can feel his eyes burning into you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to keep composure.

"Y/n," he says softly.

You gulp and look up, pausing your ministrations. He tilts his head to the side, a strange look taking over his features. It's no secret to either of you that you can't understand the other; it seemed to you that Jisung was just never as bothered by the language barrier as you were.

Apparently not.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he says simply. Taking a deep breath, he hopes inwardly that you haven't learnt too much Korean yet, and continues to talk. "I wish I could speak more English, enough for us to communicate. I'm sorry I never told you that before. I know it makes you sad."

Silence.

"I don't know what you're saying," you murmur softly, a look of longing and resignation taking over your expression.

"I don't understand you."

You lean one hand under your head. "I wish we could communicate."

"I wish we could talk properly... This is so frustrating."

Sighing and giving up completely, you tap his wrist, and he brings it closer to you so you can wrap the injury. Delicately placing the gauze sheets along the cut, you begin to firmly wrap the bandage around his forearm, taking care not to cut off his circulation in the process. Securing the bandage with a clip, you stand and begin to dispose of the packets and tissues.

Jisung stands too, unsure, like he's waiting for direction. He opens his mouth to say something, but your thoughts are beginning to run away with you, and you speak them aloud before he has a chance to say anything.

"I wonder what things would have been like if we both spoke the same language." You throw the packets in the bin.

Jisung seems to be lost in his own thoughts too. "Maybe I could ask one of my hyungs to teach me English... or Hyunjin! He knows English too! He might be able to help..."

Yet again, the names of one of his members is the only word you can recognise amongst his rapid-fire speech.

"Hyunjin?" You say. "What about him? Did- should I go get him?" You groan in exasperation and throw your hands out, knocking the ointment off the cabinet from where you've just set it down. "What are you asking for?"

"Sorry, I don't know what you're upset about, but maybe I can ask Chan-hyung and Hyunjin for advice on what to do... Unless you've already talked to them..."

"I bet you'd sound so different talking in English," you're beginning to fume, and you feel bad, because none of this is Jisung's fault. He's Korean, he speaks it, so why are you getting so upset about not being able to communicate through the same language?

Both of you are practically talking to yourselves now; Jisung is clearly lost on another planet, seemingly recovered from the injury. You're beginning to feel yourself sink, no longer nervous around him. Now, you just feel a desperate longing.

To talk. Actually talk.

"Changbin-hyung told me that you don't speak much Korean, but maybe I could teach you? Ah, that wouldn't work, because I'd have to teach you in English first..."

You bite your lip. A dangerous thought crosses your conscience; you could just tell him. About how you feel. He might not even know what you're talking about. He probably won't.

Hopefully.

You decide to risk it. Even if he does understand, you can easily play it off as a translating mistake on his part. No worries.

"Jisung," you say cautiously.

He snaps out of his endless train of thought, and locks his gaze with yours. Like a soldier called to attention.

"Y/n," he says cheekily, though you can see his confident demeanour faltering.

"I really want to be able to talk with you," you continue. "Properly. But maybe it's a good thing we can't understand each other. I can say I love you without you understanding... Gosh, Hyunjin would have a field day making fun of us idiots. Not being able to communicate..."

Jisung blinks. Once. Twice. You see the flutter of his lashes, the cogs turning in his head, and then, very hesitantly, he steps closer. Like you're a wild animal he's trying not to spook.

You take a step back. He takes another forward.

So you step back again. Your back hits the cabinet.

Shit.

Jisung cocks his head; he looks exactly like his quokka counterpart. You blink as he frowns suddenly, then presses his hands together, slipping his fingers in a pattern over the newly wrapped bandage on his forearm.

Around and around and around. And then-

"You love Hyunjin?" Even without understanding, his tone is incredulous. Disbelieving.

"What about Hyunjin?" You say in confusion. "Clearly I've done something wrong, as your tone is telling me, but what does he have to do with it?"

Jisung groans, frustrated. "All this time. I was so happy you came to help me... I thought there might have been something between you and me, but you were just being helpful. Hyunjin, of all people."

You huff. "You keep saying 'Hyunjin' and yet, I still have no idea what you're saying."

Jisung scoffs. "Okay, relax! You don't need to keep talking about how much you love him! I get it... Damn, I'm stupid."

"...Well, you stopped saying his name, but I still don't know what you're talking about, Jisung."

"I wish I could understand you, Y/n."

"I wish you loved me."

"I want to know you. I would never let anyone hurt you, ever... But clearly, I'm not fit for it... I can't even put together a sentence in your language. How am I supposed to love you when I can't even do that?"

Your voices are rising at this point, swelling to fit the room. They mix in the air and rain down in shards, sparkling shards of glass that seem to hurt more than Jisung's forearm injury did.

Every glittering remnant makes your eyes sting until you feel a salty wetness coating your cheeks. The frustration is spilling out of you, the unfairness and utter inconvenience of it all drowning you in tumultuous, crashing waves until you are swept under the dark, powerful current, falling and falling and clawing upwards to air, to breathe, to him, but it doesn't work.

"Why can't things just be easy for once?" You cry out at him. He jolts, taken aback. "I just want to love someone, and here you are, yet I can't even tell you that I love you. I love you, Jisung, and you'll never, ever understand, and it's all my fault because I don't know any Korean enough to talk to you."

He's frozen. Pale as a ghost. And then the colour rises so fast to his face that you step forward, afraid that he might collapse or pass out or experience some other type of wildly unexpected medical occurrence that would probably make your current situation even more upsetting than it already is. If that's even possible.

"Me?" He says. His voice is shaky, strained. "You love me? Not Hyunjin?"

"Fuck, Jisung, this has nothing to do with Hyunjin. Forget about him, I'm talking about you. You might as well know since we can't fucking communicate. Do you even know what I just said, or do I just sound like an angry chicken?"

A look of understanding begins to dawn incredibly slowly on his face. He points to himself, in disbelief but still rather unsure about what you're saying. "Me?"

"Yes, you, you absolute idiot. Shit."

Jisung looks at his hands, then points to himself. He cups his hands and shakily rearranges his fingers, making a comical depiction of a heart. "You?"

"That is the most shit heart I've ever seen you make," you huff. You point to yourself, dramatically enunciating as if he was a child unable to understand anything more than the colour of the sky.

"I." You jab a finger repetitively into your chest.

"Love.." You make a heart, bending your index fingers and pushing your hands towards him. Like he could just take your love the way something might take a glass of water offered to them.

"You," you stab a finger in the air again and again, pointing to him. There's no way he's confused now.

He's still standing there, eyebrows raised, confused and in disbelief. Your mind whirrs.

How can I possibly make this any clearer? I don't know what else I'm supposed to do now... Maybe I should just brush it off and give up. The others must be wondering where we are. Hey, I bet Chan and Hyunjin are finally done filming-

Jisung's mouth crashes desperately onto yours.

Your back throbs as it's pressed against the cabinet; his chest bumps yours and your hands fly to his shoulders, clutching him as if you're drowning. A gasp slips out of your mouth before it's swallowed up; Jisung tilts his head and it's all you can do not to let your knees buckle under him.

You can feel his hair tickling your forehead as he gulps in half a breath of air, so soft, so impossibly soft, like pinfeathers under your fingers just as you'd imagined it to be. You tug him back in, gripping the neckline of his hoodie, trying to make him realise, trying to communicate everything you've been saying without saying anything at all.

He doesn't seem to care about the injury on his arm anymore, and one hand moves to cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. He's not just kissing you, he's pouring thousands upon thousands of words into you, words he can't ever hope to tell you and words you won't ever understand.

But you do understand.

He pulls back, gasping. Your foreheads bump clumsily against each other's and he holds you fast, panting.

"Jisung," you gasp.

"Y/n," he replies breathlessly. "I love you. I love you."

You finally have some clue as to what he's saying. "I love you too."

He nods frantically, his nose brushing your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, so hard it almost hurts. But you can't find it in yourself to care, returning the crushing affection with as much strength as you can muster, fuelled by relief and love and irrevocable joy and Jisung.

The hasty explanation of your feelings all this time evaporates off your tongue, burning into ash. You sweep it into a corner of your mind and dust the rest off Jisung's shoulders.

Chan clears his throat.

Both you and Jisung spring apart as if burned. Chan stands in the doorway, arms crossed as he leans against the frame. There's a delighted smirk painted across his face, the remainder of his dark, raw makeup smudged and faded. There's a feather in his hair, and he regards the two of you with a cool stare.

"So," he says slowly, clearly fighting the urge to tease. He speaks in English and Korean, so that both of you can understand.

Chan adjusts his coarse jacket. "Did you two finally manage to communicate? Did you finally manage to talk properly?"

Jisung grins.

a/n: div by @aquazero

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