skzynas

[skzynas]

I graduated high school today!

[skzynas]

Old!

[skzynas]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[skzynas]

what the hell somebody put “guess who” on a recommendations list five days ago LMAO?

[skzynas]

───────　𐙚˙⋆.˚ 　𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.　❞

fanfics listed below are from my reblog account and some are from my main so be mindful of what you read. please reblog to share !!

（ 𖹭 ） : personal favorites.　（ 🍷 ）: 18+ , smut , mdni.

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　fake texts.

it’s because i’m ugly, isn’t it? by @sunboki

you tell him you can’t have kids. (minho only) by @skz317cb97

their parents don’t like you. (han, seungmin, jeongin only) by @charmerchannie 𖹭

bf!skz sneaking out at night to see you. by @biniminisblog

you texting 'what are we?' (jeongin ft. felix) by skz317cb97 🍷

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　headcanons.

skz and the reason you aren’t together. by @hyunebunx 𖹭

show don’t tell with skz. by hyunebunx

spin the bottle with skz. by hyunebunx 𖹭

late night moments with skz. by hyunebunx

'make me' with skz. by hyunebunx

"what are we?" with skz. by hyunebunx

cheek kisses. by @svngcore

skz when you scream their name while they're performing. by @softstraykidshours

asking for a pillow to cuddle with when you stay over as a prank. by ppiri-bahng

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　bang chan.

chan drabble. by @nonranghaes

crushing with bang chan. by myjisung

underwater rendezvous. by @stayconnecteed　ー 1.2k words

my wife. by @chrizzztopherbang 　ー 1.2k words 𖹭🍷

scented candles. by @hwajin 　ー 3.2k words🍷

queen!reader x peasant!chan. by ppiri-bahng 🍷

say yes to heaven. by @hwan-g

　ー 3.2k words ; i’m too weak to let you be, to walk away from you. it’s a twisted, distorted thing, what’s going on inside me. i see no end to it, no relief. only suffering. i did this to you, my heart, and i cannot apologize. i don’t want to. i’m jealous, i’m jealous, i’m wretched. 𖹭🍷

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　lee know.

moonstruck. by @withleeknow 　ー 4.7k words 𖹭

boyfriend lee know. by @hanjsquokka

get better, okay? by @jeonginsleftcheek 𖹭

munch lee know. by @dwaekkicidal 𖹭🍷

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　seo changbin.

college crush!changbin. by @starseungs　ー 1.2k words

only for you. by starlostastronaut

come home. by stayconnecteed 　ー 3.4k words

changbin nsfw thought #002. by ppiri-bahng 🍷

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　hwang hyunjin.

crushing with hyunjin. by myjisung

just love me for me. by @ppiri-bahng

hyunjin drabble. by @sunboki

our love untold. by starseungs

　ー 3.1k words ; for those who grew up loved, it eventually becomes a norm to the point that the nuances between its types become untold.

hyunjin nsfw thought. by @jeongin-lvr 🍷

hyunjin drabble. by @hwangskitten 𖹭🍷

hyunjin nsfw thought #001. by ppiri-bahng 🍷

morning text. by @hyunverse

11:11pm. by starseungs

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　han jisung.

wednesday — [8:47PM] by @myjisung

boyfriend han jisung. by hanjsquokka

han vs. homework. by @soobnny

　ー 1.0k words ; your clingy bf han jisung wants to kiss you.

moonage daydream. by @starlostastronaut

　ー 1.2k words ; every moment in his presence is magical. being alone with the true version of him even more so.

summertime longing. by stayconnecteed ー 2.4k words

how he would take care of you during shark week. by withleeknow

a dream and a dance. by starseungs

　ー 2.0k words ; dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid. but maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.

distracted gamer. by @seungfl0wer 🍷

jisung nsfw drabble. by @planet-dusk 🍷

skate. by hyunverse

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　felix lee.

crushing with felix. by myjisung

dating him. by soobnny

better places. by @hwangism143

college crush!felix. by starseungs ー 1.1k words

safe haven. by @comet-falls ー 1.1k words

the cuddle cure. by ppiri-bahng

[13:39] by @starlighthan

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　kim seungmin.

　ー CLICK HERE.

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　yang jeongin.

saturday — [3:07AM] by myjisung

college crush!jeongin. by starseungs ー 1.1k words

employee discount. by @felixbit

　ー 1.5k words ; you've been going to the same coffee shop ever since you moved to busan. you seem to be the favorite of the cute barista, jeongin, because he started giving you the employee discount. 𖹭

memories. by comet-falls ー 1k words

₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ *；　 don’t forget to reblog and leave feedbacks for the writers !! will add more soon. enjoy reading folks !!

[skzynas]

i quit stayndays at the start of my freshman year, staystats at the start of my sophomore year, and the view’s bouquets before the start of my junior year. i am now a senior, listing these blogs as outside activities on my brag sheet, in order to get letters of recommendations from teachers, to get scholarships for college. thats WILD.

[skzynas]

Perfectly Imperfect — Seo Changbin

pairing : idol! seo changbin x fem! reader

genre : mostly angst but with a happy ending, established relationship, hurt/comfort, a touch of third wheeling.

warnings : insecurerity, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of a past injury.

summary : you struggle with insecurities, especially after seeing him so close with a girl you don’t know. despite your efforts to hide your pain, he doesn’t realize what you’re going through.

word count : 5,228

taglist : @minhosbitterriver

That night, you were invited to the dorm for a celebration party after the boys' big win. You thought it would be a small gathering, but instead, you were surrounded by Itzy girls you didn’t know. Although the unfamiliar faces around you made you feel uneasy, you were glad to be there, celebrating him and his group’s success.

After a long, exhausting day at work, you arrived at the dorm with a smile, looking forward to spending time with Changbin and his friends. But as the night went on, you found yourself growing quiet.

You felt out of place, surrounded by people you didn’t know well, while Changbin and his members were absorbed in their celebrations. The warmth you had hoped for seemed to slip away, leaving you feeling like a stranger in the midst of their joy.

Maybe you should’ve stayed away.

You tried your best to enjoy the evening, wanting to see your beloved boyfriend smile and celebrate his hard-earned success. You were there simply to join in their celebration, knowing how much effort they had put in to reach this moment.

Yet, an unfamiliar discomfort lingered in your heart.

You found yourself shaking, unable to relax. You knew exhaustion played a part, but this feeling went beyond tiredness. It was as if your heart was slowly being torn apart.

Your gaze kept drifting to Chaeryoung, a girl you had just met. Something about her caught your attention, but you couldn’t quite understand why. When you saw Changbin getting close to her, it hit you. You didn’t want to be a jealous or possessive girlfriend, but the way he seemed to ignore you almost entirely hurt deeply.

You knew Changbin through Han; you were his best friend before you and Changbin became a couple. After a year of knowing each other, Changbin asked you out, and you happily agreed. Sometimes, after long days at the studio, he would come over to your place, and you’d spend the night together.

Spending time with him was always your favorite. Gradually, Changbin found joy in being with someone like you. He was touched by your kind-hearted nature, something he had never seen in anyone else.

He loves to talk, especially with you. You’re a wonderful listener, always patient even when he vents with a raised voice.

Yet, Changbin remains unaware of the struggles you face. You knew he carried so much on his shoulders, and the last thing you wanted was to not burden him with your own problems. It was your way of protecting him, even if it meant silently shouldering your own hardships.

You knew how hard his work could be.

When his tired eyes met yours, you saw the impact it had on him, but he always assured you he was fine. Despite this, you gave him your full support. You made him breakfast and coffee, even if you were running late sometimes. You did it all for him, because you cared deeply.

You lost yourself in thought for too long, watching the scene unfold before you. The way they were close, sharing easy laughter and inside jokes, was hard to ignore.

They looked so happy together.

It stung to see how effortlessly happy he seemed, and it hurt even more to realize he appeared happy without you. You had never seen him this joyous, never seen him this free when talking. It was as if your presence had always held him back.

Changbin had never told you about her. He never mentioned her at all. Now, you felt like an outsider, unsure of your place in this unfamiliar situation. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.

Maybe they didn’t really need you there after all.

You stood up gently, trying not to draw attention as you made your way to the door. Just as you were about to leave, Han appeared in front of you. At that moment, you were on the verge of tears, desperately trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over.

“Hey, Y/n! Do you want to—”

Before Han could finish, you slightly pushed past him and made your way out, leaving him stunned. You wanted to apologize so badly for brushing past him like that, knowing he was probably bewildered by your sudden coldness.

“H-Hey! It's raining, you'll get sick!”

Han’s concern cut through your haze of emotions, but you couldn’t turn back now. You needed to get away, to clear your head.

Stepping outside, you were quickly drenched by the rain, even though it was just a gentle drizzle. You moved slowly, letting your unshed tears blend with the rain. The pain of what had just occurred lingered, unshakable. Despite your trust in Changbin’s loyalty, the hurt you felt was undeniable.

Countless unwanted scenarios flashed through your mind, causing your sobs to grow louder.

As you walked past, people hurriedly seeking shelter from the rain, you must have looked out of place, drenched and heartbroken. An old lady, struck by your sorrowful state, offered you an umbrella with a look of deep sympathy. You seemed completely broken.

Maybe this cold air suits you.

For the first time, you could feel it’s hard to breathe. Your chest tightened, and every breath felt shallow and strained. The world around you started to blur as panic set in. The weight of your insecurities crashed down, suffocating you. The panic attack gripped you tightly, feeding on your fears and doubts. 

You stood there, shivering, feeling more alone than ever. You hugged yourself, looking for warmth even though your heart felt very empty, as if your heart was slowly losing its warmth.

Desperate to find some solace, you forced yourself to take a step forward, then another, moving through the rain-soaked streets. 

Each step felt heavy, like you were dragging the weight of your shattered heart with you.

When you got home, you locked the door and sank to the floor, feeling utterly small and overwhelmed with sadness. You’re not like them; you’re just an employee at a company, insignificant in comparison. You didn't have many friends and weren't a social person. Meanwhile, Changbin was very social; he had many idol friends and knew almost everyone in the industry, just like Chan. The gap between your worlds felt painfully wide, filling you with insecurity.

You didn't fit in with them.

You can't fit in.

As you gazed into the mirror, your stomach dropped. You typically avoided your reflection, but now you couldn’t escape how awful you looked. Unlike the stunning idols on TV, you felt utterly out of Changbin’s league. The dark circles under your eyes, the blemishes on your skin, and your body's imperfections all seemed to scream at you. Every flaw echoed your feelings of inadequacy, making you wonder why someone like him would ever choose you.

You never really had time to go to the spa or get facial treatments. All you did was work. No, you weren't a workaholic, but you didn't want to be a burden or feel useless. You worked for your financial stability. You never told this to Changbin, but he did mention how all you seemed to think about was working and working.

You never wore anything outstanding. Sure, you wore a dress once, but that was for a party. Sometimes, you had to crash at the dorms because of Changbin’s sudden invitations. He always said it was okay, but looking at yourself now, you could see how horrible you looked.

You closed your eyes, letting your tears fall again. You've always been insecure about your appearance, knowing you're not conventionally attractive. People at work sometimes joked about how you looked, their words cutting deep. One of them even cruelly said that no one would ever love you with that face. Each comment echoed in your mind, amplifying your self-doubt.

Her image flashed before you. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and you found yourself wishing you could match her beauty. With her perfect body, charming face, and effortless singing and dancing, it was no surprise that she was adored by so many.

“You're nothing like her, Y/n…” You whimpered as your trembling fingers brushed your tears away.

When you woke up the next day, your boyfriend's hand was wrapped around you. This small act of affection quickly alleviated the heaviness of last night. You turned to face him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, waking him gently. He stirred awake and drew you closer to him.

“Why did you leave without telling me? Han even said you walked through the rain... You know you can get sick, baby…” He murmured, concern evident in his voice.

“Just a bit exhausted. I know the party meant a lot to you, so I didn’t want to intrude.” You said gently.

Upon waking up, you prepared coffee and breakfast as you always did, just for him. But when he finished getting dressed, he didn’t drink or eat any of it. You had woken up early, hoping to share a quiet breakfast with him, even though it often made you late for work. Watching him ignore your efforts felt like a stab to your heart.

“Don't you want to have breakfast first?” You asked, your voice filled with hope.

“I’m really sorry, but today the boys and I are hanging out with the Itzy girls. We’ve got some plans, and I don’t want to keep them waiting. I'll text you when I get back.” He smiled apologetically, but it barely eased the ache settling in your chest.

He stepped closer, wrapped you in his arms, and gave you a loving kiss on the nose before saying his goodbyes, leaving you with a pain he didn’t seem to realize.

In the end, you ate the breakfast you had prepared with such care. It felt as though all your efforts had gone unnoticed. You glanced at the clock and got ready for work, silently praying that the day wouldn't bring any more burdens to bear.

It was already late at night, and you were upset that he had been gone for so long without giving you any messages.

“Hey princess, I’m back! I had such a fantastic day, and you won’t believe Chaeryoung’s joke—it was epic!” He grinned widely. “We spent hours laughing and chatting. And her dance? Absolutely incredible!” He continued enthusiastically, completely oblivious to the struggles you faced throughout the day.

Today, the workload at the office was overwhelming. Your boss stacked documents and files on your desk, all needing urgent revisions. Adding to your frustration, a colleague spilled coffee on your shirt, and then you were scolded by investors. Despite the exhausting day, you forced a smile, but inside, you felt like pulling your hair out from sheer frustration. You were so tired, but why couldn't he see it?

You wanted to scold him so badly, but your heart wouldn't let you. Seeing how happy Changbin was, you just gave him a small smile.

Why, though, did he have to spend time with her again? You didn’t want to let jealousy ruin his friendship, so why did you stay silent, concealing your hurt and pretending everything was fine?

“Binnie, it's nice you had a wonderful time today…” 

Those were the only words you could muster as he approached and gave you a light kiss on the lips. The kiss felt hollow, a painful reminder of the growing distance between you. You could feel a gaping void forming in your heart, threatening to swallow you whole, drowning you in a sea of sadness.

“How about you, baby?”

You looked down, not wanting to show the disappointment etched across your face. You didn't want him to worry, you didn't want him to know what was weighing on your mind.

You stayed silent for a long time, and Changbin could sense the heaviness in the air.

“Y/n… Is everything okay?” He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You forced a smile, looking down to hide your disappointment. "Yeah, Binnie. Just a bit tired, that's all." You replied, trying to keep your voice steady. He gently lifted your chin, searching your eyes for the truth. "Are you sure? You seem off."

“I'm fine, really. I just need some rest.” You pulled away slightly, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill. 

Changbin frowned but didn't push further. "Alright, if you say so. But please, talk to me if something's bothering you."

You nodded, the weight of your unspoken feelings growing heavier. "I will. Let's just get some sleep.”

When he left, doubt crept in, and you struggled to understand why you felt so unworthy. Your little heart tried to hold onto hope, searching for strength amid the confusion. You wondered if you were truly enough for him, or if you were just fooling yourself.

It's only been two days, but why are your thoughts already dragging you down? You're not usually like this. Normally, you keep a positive outlook, but now, staring into the mirror, your reflection seems to mock you mercilessly.

Your gaze drops to your hands, and the sight of them trembling sends a jolt of fear through you. Your eyes widen in shock. You try to calm yourself, but your breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps. A wave of nausea washes over you, and you start to shake uncontrollably.

The world around you begins to spin, and you feel as if you're suffocating under the weight of your insecurities and fears.

“Listen, Y/n… Breathe, you need to calm d-down, okay? You're gonna be okay… You're gonna be o-okay.” You whispered, trying to pull yourself together. Hugging yourself tightly, you focused on controlling your breaths, willing the panic to subside.

You're finally calm after what felt like an hour. The chaos had subsided, leaving a fragile sense of peace in its wake.

Lying in bed, gazing at the ceiling, your mind replayed the day’s events. Changbin's soft breathing beside you only emphasized the storm within you.

The next morning, you woke to find the bed empty. Changbin had left early. You sighed, feeling the emptiness beside you. Determined to get through the day, you got ready for work, hoping for a change.

Oh, you're very wrong.

Weeks stretched into what felt like an eternity, and the cycle persisted. You felt an increasing hollowness in your heart. Whenever you were with Changbin, her name seemed to overshadow everything, leaving you feeling unimportant and forgotten.

At work, your motivation dwindled, and the environment felt increasingly stifling. Panic attacks became a frequent companion, leaving you trembling and isolated in the bathroom as you struggled to regain control. Everything was crumbling around you, and you felt like you were slipping into a void with no way out.

Your eyes grew dull, and your coworkers began to notice the change. You struggled to find joy in your work. Each day, you found yourself regulating your breath and covering your ears when the noise became too much, battling the rising tide of panic.

Thankfully, your colleagues were understanding, and you were grateful for their support.

When you returned from work, you found out that Changbin wouldn't be coming home tonight. The weight of loneliness pressed down on you, deepening the ache in your heart. Just as you were about to break down, you heard a soft knock on the door.

“At this time of night?” You murmured, wiping away a stray tear as you walked towards the door. You opened it and were met by your best friend.

“H-Han? What are you doing here? You should just stay in the dorm, I—” You stuttered, your voice quivering with surprise and relief.

“I haven't heard from you in a while, that night you just left. I’m very worried, you know?” Han's voice was soft but filled with concern. His eyes scanned your face, taking in the dark circles and the hollow look in your eyes. You tried to force a smile, but it felt like the emotional burden was holding you back.

“I'm sorry, Han. I've just been dealing with a lot.”

He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. When Han fully saw your face, he noticed how much you had changed. A lot. He could see the coldness in your eyes, the absence of the warmth that used to be there. No, you’ve lost yourself. Han saw the lines of stress etched deeply into your features, the exhaustion that weighed down your every movement. He saw all the times you would sit in silence, staring off into space, not even looking at him.

He needed to know why you were like this. You were his best friend, and you had always promised to be open with each other.

That's when you finally let everything out.

You told him everything, starting from the beginning. The words poured out in a torrent, your voice shaking with every sentence. You looked so pathetic, crying non-stop. Between sobs, you tried to explain the overwhelming sadness that had settled in your heart. It was the first time Han had ever seen you so devastatingly broken.

To be truthful, he’d always viewed you as incredibly strong. Your generosity and kindness were evident, and he remembered how many people had sought your affection. Even now, people were naturally attracted to you.

But there was one side of you he had never encountered; your breaking point.

He’d always believed you were perfect, and finding any flaws in you had always seemed impossible. Many people were jealous of you because you were the humble one. Your kindness was something that others repeatedly took advantage of.

Han noticed the anxiety you were struggling with; it was a feeling he knew well.

This time, he will try to help you.

As Han observed in the studio, he could see how Changbin remained completely unaware, persistently bringing up Chaeryoung in conversation. Despite knowing that his hyung and Chaeryoung were old friends, it was disheartening to watch him be so blind to the impact it was having.

When he saw Han's displeased expression, Changbin’s curiosity turned to alarm, prompting both him and Chan to focus on Han with intense scrutiny.

“Is there a problem, Hannie?” Changbin asked, his voice heavy with tension.

Han’s frown deepened, frustration and anger mingling in his eyes. Was Changbin really this blind? Had he forgotten about you so easily? The thought clawed at Han, sending a surge of adrenaline through him.

“Don't you remember anything?” Han's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. “How could you forget so easily?”

Changbin's confusion morphed into unease, his gaze shifting to Chan for some sort of explanation. Chan, sensing the volatile undercurrent, kept his silence, eyes flickering between the two.

“I don’t understand, Jisung.” Changbin said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. “What did I forget?”

Han's heart raced, the anger inside him threatening to overflow. He’d always known Changbin could be clueless, but this felt like a deep wound. Discussing Chaeryoung with such ease, as if you never mattered, made Han’s blood run cold.

“Chaeryoung this and Chaeryoung that! Are you fucking kidding me, Seo Changbin?! What about Y/n L/n?!” Han’s voice exploded, his annoyance boiling over. The studio fell silent, the intensity of Han's outburst hanging heavily in the air.

Changbin's eyes widened in shock, finally realizing the depth of Han's frustration and the gravity of his oversight. Chan stood frozen, his gaze shifting between his friends, sensing the tension that had erupted so suddenly.

“Hyung. It's hard for me to let my best friend date you. But Y/n is different from other girls. I keep hearing you mention other girls' names and not hers. Don't you realize that, hyung? I thought that when Y/n was dating you, you would take care of her, but why do I have to find her crying because of you?” Changbin's face fell as the weight of Han's words sank in. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

“Do you know how lucky you are to have her?” Han’s voice trembled with barely-contained anger and sadness.

“Have you ever asked her about her day? She always hides her burdens because, to her, you're more tired than she is. Did you know that her boss always gives her the most difficult tasks, forcing her to work overtime?” Han took a step closer, his voice trembling with emotion.

You work long hours, not out of passion, but because your boss relentlessly forces you to do this and that. Your workplace is a living nightmare. Your boss constantly belittles you, making you feel worthless. Every day, you're pushed to your limits, leaving you exhausted, broken, and feeling like you’re barely holding on.

You often arrive late to work because you wanted to make breakfast for Changbin.  As expected, your boss constantly scolds you for it. On one occasion, an investor lashed out at you because you tripped and hurt your knee.  He insulted you, saying you were negligent and shouldn’t be working there. That day was your worst; you fell because a colleague who disliked you let you stumble in front of the investor. This incident left you limping for a whole week.

When Changbin asked about your injury, you simply said it was due to your own carelessness, trying to prevent him from worrying. The most terrifying incident happened when you were heading home late from work. A drunk man grabbed you and almost attacked you.

All this time, you’ve been carrying this weight by yourself, choosing not to tell Changbin to prevent adding to his stress and concerns.

“Y/n is like a sister to me…” Han's voice broke as tears streamed down his face. He was grateful to be counted among your friends, cherishing every moment he had learned from you. Yet, the pain of seeing you suffer tore at his heart, leaving him feeling helpless and shattered.

“Please, h-hyung… Take good care of her or you will regret it later. She loves you with all her heart. I’ve watched her s-sacrifice so much for you. She hides her pain, buries her struggles, all just to keep you from worrying. Every tear she sheds, every sleepless night she endures, it’s all because she wants to be there for you. She would give up everything just to see you happy.” Han’s voice trembled with a mix of desperation and sorrow. The room seemed to close in as his words echoed painfully.

“If you don’t change…” Han’s voice was a whisper now, filled with heartache.

“You’ll lose the most precious person in your life. Don’t let her pain be in vain. Please, show her the love she’s always shown you. Before it’s too late… H-Hyung, I beg you… Please, hyung stop hurting her…” Han’s tears flowed relentlessly as he sank to his knees, bowing deeply in front of Changbin. Han's sobs escaped uncontrollably, his body shaking with the weight of his plea.

You walked in, unaware that Changbin had been waiting for you. The sight that greeted you at the doorway was heart-wrenching: Changbin slumped on the couch, his usually vibrant face now marred by sadness. His eyes, swollen and red, bore the marks of his silent tears.

The sight of him at that moment was a jarring contrast to the cheerful presence you were used to. It pierced your heart to see him so vulnerable, and the room felt suffocatingly silent with the weight of what was left unsaid.

Normally, you would’ve rushed to him, eager to embrace him and offer comfort. But tonight, his usual warmth felt like a distant memory. You stood there, paralyzed, unsure of how to bridge the chasm that had opened between you.

When you both moved to the bedroom, the silence continued to loom over you. The unspoken words hung in the air, heavy with the gravity of the situation. Changbin's hands, trembling slightly, rested on your shoulders, his touch both reassuring and heartbreaking. His voice was shaky as he spoke.

“Which part hurts? Here, let me m-massage you…” His eyes, brimming with tears, were fixed on you with an expression of deep regret. He could see the strain and pain etched across your face, and it tore at him.

“This hurts, doesn’t it? I can see it now, princess. I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner...” His voice cracked with guilt as he carefully moved to your knee, the one still sore from an injury not so long ago. His touch was incredibly gentle, almost reverent, as he placed a loving kiss on the sore spot, his fingers moving carefully over it in a soothing manner.

A sob caught in your throat as Changbin’s soft, apologetic gestures broke through the walls you had built around your heart. His tears blended with yours, cascading as he softly attended to your wound, each touch reflecting his heartfelt regret.

“There is no one else, Y/n. Stop comparing yourself with her. You’re you, and that’s what I love. P-Please, stop measuring yourself against someone else. You’re more than enough just as you are.”

His heartfelt words were like a lifeline in the midst of your emotional storm, breaking through the silence that had suffocated you. The walls you had built around your heart came crashing down, and your tears flowed freely.

“I'm not like her, Seo Changbin. And I-I apologize, okay?” Your voice wavered, tears running down. “My imperfections are everywhere, from my body to my face.  Even simple things like a facial treatment are beyond me. I’m not someone who’s full of interesting stories or conversations. I’m sorry for not being able to meet your expectations.”

You gasped for breath, each sob tearing at your heart. “She didn't do anything wrong, Bin. It’s just the thought of one day l-losing you that hurts so unbearably…”

In a state of shock, Changbin watched helplessly as you fell apart. You shook violently, hands pressed firmly against your ears as if trying to block out the intensity of the emotions that were overtaking you.

“Each time her name comes up, it’s like you’re slicing through my heart all over again.  I-I’m worn out from trying to fit into an ideal I can never achieve... I’m drowning in my own self-doubt, and the fear of never being e-enough for you is overwhelming. I’m so sorry for not being the perfect partner you might have hoped for. I’m sorry for not being what you d-deserve…”

“And if you want to break up with me—”

This time, Changbin didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, your cries echoing loudly as you wept into his chest. The intensity of your sobs soaked his shirt, and seeing you so fragile and lost was almost too much for him to bear. With tears in his own eyes, he tried desperately to soothe you, his voice barely rising above the noise of your intense grief.

He pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head, whispering soothing words into your ear.

“I'm here, I’m r-right here… I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered softly, his voice quivering with feeling. “I’m so sorry for everything… I never meant to make you feel this way... Please, don’t think you’re not enough. You mean the world to me…”

His fingers moved over your back in a rhythmic pattern, trying to bring you solace. As he heard your cries, his own tears fell, each one reflecting his deep empathy. He embraced you tightly, hoping to make the pain lessened.

You were the one who heard his troubles.

Now, he’s here to hear yours.

You cried for what felt like an eternity, and Changbin, enveloping you in his arms, whispered and kissed you gently to ease your distress. For the first time in weeks, a comforting warmth began to thaw the cold ache in your heart.

“Baby… Please, look at me?”

With a slow, deliberate movement, you raised your head, your eyes meeting his. His hand settled on your cheek, softly brushing it with great care.

“I don't want anyone else. I only want you, Y/n L/n. Stop stressing yourself with expectations because in my eyes, you will always be perfect, okay?” He spoke up.

“I-I know that my words and actions have hurt you deeply. I never meant for that to happen, and I am truly sorry... No matter how many times I say it, it can never undo the pain I’ve caused.” You fell silent, this encouraging Changbin to continue.

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “Y/n, the d-day I first fell in love with you was when you helped a deaf grandmother who was getting pushed around by a bunch of teenagers… While others did nothing, you were the only one who stepped in to protect her. That was when I knew I had feelings for you... And then, when we volunteered with Felix at the orphanage, your playful interactions with the children and your radiant smile made me see how truly beautiful you are...”

And after a week of lifeless eyes, the light started to come back. Changbin watched as you gradually started to glow again.

“Look at me. Did you know? Even after I changed, people still made fun of me. Especially my body. But there are still those who give me plenty of support and affection, and you are one of them.”

You stared at him in shock, taken aback by his words. Instead of continuing, he offered a bittersweet smile and let out a soft chuckle, though his eyes shimmered with the threat of tears.

“Everyone is different, princess.” Changbin said softly, his eyes reflecting sincere warmth. “But that’s what makes us unique. There’s always something that brings people together, despite their differences.”

As Changbin spoke, you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. When he noticed the tension easing from your body and saw a faint smile begin to appear on your lips, a wave of relief and happiness washed over him. 

“Also, I want you to quit that job. I'll take care of things for you. If you still want to work, I'll find another job for you.” He stated as you nodded.

His fingers played with strands of your hair as he placed gentle kisses on your forehead. He hummed a calming melody, his voice carrying a peaceful cadence that harmonized with the steady rhythm of your breath. 

As things began to calm down, Changbin let you drift off to sleep beside him. He watched you with awe, utterly enchanted by the peaceful way you looked.

He pressed a delicate kiss to your lips.

“Perfectly imperfect, that’s how I love you.”

author’s note : i don't want to hurt you with this. i'm trying to carefully write this to avoid any misunderstandings (please don't hate me, i beg you). if any of you out there feel like this, i hope you get better and remember you are precious! lastly, i apologize if there are any mistakes in my writing since english isn’t my first language.

[skzynas]

𑁍ࠬ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

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

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

[skzynas]

a million little stars

snippets of your relationship with minho. tooth-rooting fluff. they’re so in love your honor!!!!!!!!! (minho is drunk in two scenes but HE’S ADORABLE)

this is for my baby @rachalixie,,, happy (very late) birthday my star HOW LUCKY I AM TO KNOW YOU 😭

please consider donating to our stayblr fundraiser for gaza!! we are so so close to raising 5000 dollars for palestine!

Your hands tremble like autumn leaves as you press them to Minho’s cheeks. His eyes are glossed over as if dipped into resin, his face flushed like hibiscus petals. You're unsure if it’s from the cold or the three bottles of soju before him.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” you quickly ask, pulling the chair in front of him. The grocery store’s light reflects off his face, red and blue dancing across his pupils like flames in a fireplace.

A lazy smile forms on his lips as he blinks at the sound of your voice. Your name escapes his lips faintly, as if he’s in awe over the fact that you’re really there.

“Don’t we have classes tomorrow? And you have dance practice too. Why are you getting so drunk?” you chastise, pulling the bottle from his grasp. He lets you, laying his cheek on his arm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Minho? Won’t you answer me?” you giggle slightly, and he blinks, the grin spreading across his face like sun rays stretching across the sky.

“Did I think of you so much you suddenly appeared in front of me?” he whispers, and your heart thrashes around your ribcage only to plummet to your knees.

You met Minho in one of your psychology classes, and then at the grocery store near your home. That’s how you found out you live only three minutes apart. Minho started walking you home after class, and you attended his dance practices in return. That’s how your crush came to life.

An unrequited love, you long thought.

Now, not so much. You dare hope.

“You think of me?” you whisper, and he nods, his lips forming into a huge pout. Your eyes soften like clay at the sight.

You didn’t know Minho became this adorable when drunk. Truthfully, there are lots of things you still don’t know about him, though your infatuation feels as if it has inhabited your soul for years.

“Ah, Yn-aaah,” he suddenly drawls out, grabbing the end of your chair and pulling you closer. He does it so effortlessly it leaves you dizzy for a few seconds.

“Why are you sooo pretty, huh?” he mumbles, placing his chin on his palm.

“You’re drunk. I look like a mess right now,” you shake your head slightly, your blush now mirroring his.

“No, no, no,” he contradicts vehemently. You blink, and his face is suddenly inches away from yours. “See, your eyes… your nose…” His finger traces your features as he names them. “Your cheeks… and your lips.” His thumb grazes your lower lip, and suddenly, you’re the one who’s drunk off of his touch.

He brightens up, dropping his hand and placing his forehead on the table. “Pretty, so so pretty.”

…

“And then you kept mumbling about how pretty I am till I got you to your dorm,” you giggle, and Minho huffs slightly. He’s acting cool, but his ears betray him, turning a scorching red as you recount the night you found him drunk and alone, two months ago.

“I mean, did I lie? You are pretty,” he mumbles through a pout, one that you quickly kiss away. His lips taste of sugar and love— you dare to hope the grand feeling is reciprocated.

“You also kept yelling my name so loud that someone looked out of their window—” He silences you now, your lips struggling to meet as a fit of giggles overtakes you.

“Shh, let me kiss you,” he smiles against your lips, and you nod, sliding your hand across his jaw. His fingers graze your arm as your mouths meet again and again, and soon you’re no longer sure how much time has passed since you last spoke.

He breaks away first, the tip of his nose grazing your cheek. He brings you onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your apartment is quiet for a little while, the only sound being your synced breathing.

It’s so comforting to be in his hold, to feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, his perfume cocooning your soul. You’ve liked Minho for so long that getting to embrace him still feels like a dream, even after two months of dating.

“I love you,” he suddenly whispers, and a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins at his words, butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach at how gentle he sounds.

“What?” you pull away slightly, finding him blinking furiously, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“I love you,” he repeats, slightly louder this time, his hands cupping your cheeks securely, safely. “I really love you.”

You feel as if the entire universe is suddenly singing within your heart.

…

“Minho,” you whine slightly, trying to shake him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“Baby, I really have to pee,” you chuckle, but he shakes his head, pushing his entire weight atop you.

“Warm,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, because you’re suffocating me.”

“So my love is suffocating?” he scoffs loudly, pushing himself off you. “Do you hear that, Soonie?” he turns to the orange cat near your head. “Can you believe it?”

“If Soonie could speak, she’d complain about your sleep-talking,” you joke, placing a quick peck on the tip of his nose. It was one of Minho’s most endearing traits, one that you discovered since you moved in together, a few weeks ago.

“You have two minutes,” he narrows his eyes at you, “or else I’ll terrorize you while you pee.”

“You’re crazy,” you shake your head, but your smile says otherwise. It warms your heart to think that someone loves your presence so much that they’d come to crave it first thing in the morning.

You’re back in bed exactly one minute and forty-seven seconds later (courtesy of Minho’s counting). He’s quick to wrap you in his arms, your back nestled perfectly against his chest.

“You smell good,” you compliment, placing tiny kisses on the arm wrapped around your middle. You grin, recognizing hints of your soap. You smile wider when you spot goosebumps raising across his skin.

“So do you,” he mumbles into your hair. It’s the last you both speak for a few minutes. The only sounds in the room are Soonie’s occasional tired mewls and the curtains swaying before the open window.

Sounds of home.

“Honey,” Minho suddenly calls out, and you open your eyes to find a dainty necklace dangling before you. The initial M reflects the filtering sunlight.

“I’m a bit possessive,” he says, placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder. “Need everyone to know you are mine.”

“You’re very cute,” you smile softly, brushing your hair away from your shoulder. His lips graze your bare skin as he clasps the necklace in place.

“It looks good on you,” he compliments, spinning you around to look at you. “Thank you for giving me a home,” he whispers, before scattering kisses along your collarbone— they remind you of dewdrops falling atop petals at dawn, eager to reunite after a long night apart.

…

“Thank you for coming,” Chan smiles sheepishly as you stand before their table. You quickly give him a side-hug before kneeling in front of Minho.

“Is he okay?” you ask worriedly, rubbing warmth into his hands. Chan shakes his head, placing his jacket over Minho’s shoulders.

“Yeah, he just didn’t want to get into the car. He kept asking for you.”

“He’s very strong even when he’s drunk,” you giggle knowingly, memories of four years past surfacing. Back when Minho was just a crush who called you pretty while drunk.

Now he’s everything to you.

“I’ll be in the car. Just convince him to get in, please,” Chan whines, and you chuckle, sending him a thumbs-up.

“Baby,” you whisper, grazing Minho’s cheeks with your knuckles. His eyes, still glossy, peer at you, a million little stars finding refuge within their depths.

“I want Yn,” he mumbles, closing his eyes again.

“Honey, I’m Yn,” you explain while laughing, peering at him from underneath. He squints one eye at you, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Fine,” he stands up suddenly, tripping on his own two feet. You quickly hold him as his forehead rests atop your shoulder.

“Yn… I’m hiding something from my girlfriend,” he whispers, attempts to, in his drunken state. Your heart catches in your chest as you tread carefully, running your fingers through his hair.

“What is it, baby?” you ask.

“I will propose to her next week.”

“Oh,” you gasp softly, your hold on him growing limp. “Will you?”

“Yes, but it’s a secret,” he brings his finger to his lips, making a shushing motion. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You break out in loud giggles. Chan sends you a quizzical look when he spots the radiant smile across your lips— it’s only a reflection of the sun that has lodged itself into your heart.

Minho lays his head atop your lap on the drive back home. Your soul exhales in content as you gaze at your pretty Minho, your lovely Minho.

“Baby,” you whisper in his ear. He hums sweetly in response.

“Can I tell you a secret in return?” you ask and he nods eagerly. “Your girlfriend will say yes. And she loves you” sudden tears of gratitude well in your eyes, “more than she could ever express.”

[skzynas]

just skimmed through the lil descriptions before the story starts and WHEW i am not reading the whole thing anytime soon. lots of moments that made me scrunch up my face. however reading the reblogs again were so heartwarming so that was nice to relive

i dont remember much of my old writing at stayndays but i do remember a lot of “breathe for you.” i remember getting really into the worldbuilding of the new demons (especially the rock one— actually thats the only one i remember) and researching the different moves of love breathing and how i slipped in the wedding band detail at the epilogue just so the readers can walk away satisfied that it wasnt a complete bummer of an ending. im too scared to reread it for the first time in years because i remember feeling really good about it. then again i was like a 14 year old going into freshman year, but now im 17 going into my senior year of hs so i think the level of cringe i may experience from rereading it would be lethal. also that title is ass. still some fond memories though! :)

[skzynas]

i dont remember much of my old writing at stayndays but i do remember a lot of “breathe for you.” i remember getting really into the worldbuilding of the new demons (especially the rock one— actually thats the only one i remember) and researching the different moves of love breathing and how i slipped in the wedding band detail at the epilogue just so the readers can walk away satisfied that it wasnt a complete bummer of an ending. im too scared to reread it for the first time in years because i remember feeling really good about it. then again i was like a 14 year old going into freshman year, but now im 17 going into my senior year of hs so i think the level of cringe i may experience from rereading it would be lethal. also that title is ass. still some fond memories though! :)

[skzynas]

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead. 

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every  fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.” 

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here.  “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you two before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 13.07.2024]

[skzynas]

had to make sure you’d catch it.

SUMMARY: no one expected jeongin to be the first to marry in the group, but furthermore, no one expected minho to be the one to ask you first, and certainly not like that.

REQUESTED! by a pookie anonnie right here. fluff!!! minho!!! yess!!! we love to see it. tysm for this, hope you like it as much as I did! <3

CW: use of sarcasm (because yes?), use of very stupid humour (because it makes everything better), one (1) mention if hyunlix (just for funsies) the one and only beyoncé is mentioned once (yes this is a warning because it’s a silly joke but it’ll make sense i promise) and welp, WEDDINGS MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️ WTF IS A COMMITMENT 👹👹👹/jkjk

WC: 2.1k

A/N: can someone tell jypapi that now I need more of Lee Know in suit and tie? thanks ^^

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

Weddings.

Ah, yes.

That motherfucker.

It’s not like you had anything against the people that were marrying each other —God, no! Good for them!—, but rather how seeing husband and wife looking flawless and so in love made you feel.

Lonely.

As fuck.

But it all changed when you went to a wedding with a plus one for the first time. Well, he had been invited to a wedding, and you happened to be around and free.

It had been not too soon before you two started dating, but a small part of your brain knew that if you hadn’t seen Lee Minho in that gorgeous tuxedo that evening, or maybe before, when he blushed as he asked if you were free, then perhaps your choices would’ve been different —which was a blatant lie, because you were and still are head over heels for him, but we’ll keep it for comedian purposes—, because damn did that man look good in a suit.

It was when you entered the venue with him by your side, the flutters of going with your friend and crush to a wedding, of all places… the flowers, the setting, and, oh, the couple.

Everything was beautiful. It almost made you feel like you were the main character, the bride, despite the obvious knowledge that it could only be that gorgeous woman dressed in white, unlike you, in a short and fitted dress in a dark blue hue, matching your companion’s tie.

“I never would’ve thought you liked weddings so much.” Minho whispered in a soft snicker, as teasing as always, eyes fixated in the way you seemed to glow.

But you two were sat next to each other as the officiant spoke, and he was leaning close to you, his lips right by the shell of your ear, and Jesus Christ in motorbike, because he looked outstanding, and oh my god, because his hand was resting on your leg, warming up your body, that was also covered by his suit jacket because poor you had underestimated how cold a church could be, even in the end of summer.

‘Liked’ weddings? You would have cackled loudly if the setting had been more appropriate. If it meant that Minho would treat you like that every single day, you’d fucking marry one.

But instead, you chuckled softly, laying your hand on his, the one that still rested right above your knee, and you leaned too, silently reeling in the smell of his cologne.

“Never thought you’d take me to one.”

And it was not like you were going to know too soon, but to Minho, in that moment, time seemed to freeze as he stared at your features.

You smiled at him, and it had been like always, but to him, it was the most gorgeous smile he had ever had the pleasure to see, let alone cause, and it made his heart feel tight on his chest, a blush that ran to his cheeks and ears, as red-tinted as your lips, so sweet-looking that Minho had to hold back not to kiss you, keeping him from checking if they’d taste just like how they looked.

He didn’t just want to take you to weddings.

And with that thought in mind, months later, after several dates going coffe shop to coffe shop, falling in love with you, with the soft and soothing tone you spoke to his pets and how beautiful you looked like in his house, happily petting Soonie, he knew then and there that his house wasn’t his home anymore.

You were.

And he kissed you tenderly that night, struggling to find a way to express these feelings with words.

So it made both of you feel very giddy when years later, another wedding showed up.

“You’ve gotta be fucking with me.” He had mumbled, reading the mail as he entered back home. “Jagi, I’m home!” He stated loudly, the cats meowing him welcome.

You came from your study room, leaving an email half written to welcome him back for the day. He handed you the mail, but not before pecking your forehead.

“What’s going on?” You smiled softly in slight confussion, to which he grinned at you, head tilted to the first letter in the bunch.

You stared at it, your eyes turning wide, and read the sentence a couple times.

“There’s no way.” You covered your mouth, laughing in disbelief. “Our little Innie is getting married?”

“I think I lost a bet to Hyunjin.” Minho chuckled.

“Have you called him?” You smiled, excited, cheerfully going back to your study to pick your phone.

“I just saw that idiot back in JYP, he didn’t even tell us!”

Two months. Yang Jeongin, little baby bread, was marrying his now fiancé in two fucking months.

Minho couldn’t believe it, nor could you.

And then, as soon as autumn started to arrive, the first leaves turning different tones of red and yellow, falling to the ground.

Then, the wedding date came by.

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

You embraced Jeongin’s wife in a tight hug.

“How does it feel?” You mumbled giddily, feeling Minho’s arm go back to your waist as soon as you let go of the beautiful woman dressed in white.

He’d been extra clingy the whole venue, and you had loved and cherished every moment of it. You both knew what that first wedding had meant for the other, all those years ago. It made your tummy fill with butterflies, ones that had been there ever since Minho swooshed your way.

The bride grinned happily, trying hard not to cry so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

“It’s like a dream I’m about to wake up from.” She snickered, cheeks covered in a pink hue that couldn’t be hidden with the light foundation she was wearing. “But you’ll get it quite soon, right?” She muttered with a smile, as if in confidence, like sharing a secret you were supposed to know.

“Ah?” But you were clueless.

Before realizing she could’ve fucked up a major canon event, his husband called her from affar, busy dealing with all the guests and the photographer, a tall man with little to no patience and lots of angry italian gestures.

“C’mon, quick.” Minho grinned next to you. “Let’s get to the chocolate fountain before someone eats all the strawberries.”

You two chuckled, sprinting towards the large set of tables and the main table, filled with different types of fruits and cheeses.

“Mmhhm!” You hummed, the warm chocolate melting on your mouth, mixing with the sweetness of the strawberry. “We really need one of these back at home.”

You two giggled and ate a couple more strawberries.

“You have chocolate in your mouth.” Minho mumbled.

You turned to face him, and he snickered, his hand traveling to your face and kissing the corner of your lip, cleaning it.

The chocolate tasted better like that anyways.

You felt your face flush, and you tutted at him playfully.

“You can look, not touch,” you mumbled with a toothy grin. “I spent so much time pissing off the makeup artists back at their place, I can’t have you ruin my lipstick, sir.” You chuckled teasingly.

“I can’t?” Minho raised his eyebrows, and you felt small under his stare, like a little prey. “Really?”

You blushed, pouting. “Minho, not fair.”

He laughed loudly at you, and then back hugged you.

“We should move before they realize we ate half of the strawberries.” He mumbled next to your ear, and cheekily nibbled on it for a second.

You giggled at his antics, and went back to where everyone was settled, joining and taking a couple of pictures with the group.

Your smile widened looking at them, groom and bride, who casually rambled about something you couldn’t hear.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your boyfriend grinned curiously next to you.

You looked at him, your heart fluttered.

Weddings didn’t feel lonely anymore.

“They look so cute together.” You sighed. “So beautiful.”

Minho sighed too, his arm swiftly going back to your shoulders.

“Very.” He muttered softly. He wasn’t talking about the couple.

Laughter and conversations filled the air as guests, dressed in their finest, mingled beneath the gentle glow of twinkling lights.

“It’s time for the bouquet throw!” A loud voice announced.

You looked at Minho and winked teasingly.

“Hold my purse.” You smirked in between giggles. “This one’s mine.” He blushed at your determination.

It wasn’t that you had forgotten what catching the bouquet meant, rather just casually left that thought at the back of your mind.

Minho almost shivered, barely cathing your bag.

Marrying you?

Something felt heavier on the pocket of his jacket.

You settled in the group of women that stood a couple of feet away from the bride, who was laughing and pointing at someone in the midst of the girls.

“Good luck, ladies!” A low voice made you cackle loudly.

“Good luck, Felix!” You chuckled. “Good one, Hyune!” You sent a thumbs up to Hyunjin, and he laughed, blushing.

With excitement bubbling in the air, the moment arrived slowly, almost painfully so. A hush fell over the gathered guests, their eager eyes fixed on the radiant bride. She held the bouquet, a bundle of beautiful daisies, like a symbol of wishes waiting to be granted. With a grin, she turned around, and a playful spark lit up her eyes.

Full of anticipation, she raised the bouquet high above her head. Time seemed to pause for an instant, and then, with a joyful toss, she…

She… stopped?

You didn’t have time to frown in confusion when she turned around again.

The guests that had been crowded around you moved away, and the bride giddily walked towards you.

She squealed. “This is so cute. Here, girl. It’s yours.”

And she handed you the bouquet.

You blabered confused sounds of vowels, not quite understanding what was happening yet.

Gasps and other surprised reactions filled the venue, and you looked around, wondering what was all the fuss about.

“Sorry to ruin the fun, jagi.” A known voice sounded tenderly behind you, and then he giggled. “I had to make sure you’d catch it.”

With your eyes wide and your features displaying a soft grin of surprise, you turned around to face him.

“I fell in love with you in a wedding.” He started. “Not really, considering I had been pinning for you long before, which Felix never hesitated to say how down bad I was for you and how blind I was for not addmitting it.”

Your eyes swelled with tears, your hands covering your mouth. “M-Minho…”

He sniffed, holding back his own, a blush deep on his face.

“I fell in love with you over and over again, in every date we went to and every time you came by my appartment to say hi to the cats, claiming that you felt like they missed you, when it was most likely me who did.” He stared at his hands, fidgeting with them, his palms feeling sweaty.

He raised his head then, and stared deeply into your eyes. He chuckled, falling in love with you once more.

“I have a feeling that, over the course of our lives together, I will fall in love with you as many times as there are stars in the sky.” Minho smiled tearfully, a lump on his throat. “Over and over again.”

You started laughing as tears fell down your cheeks. He bent down on one knee, and your pulse faltered for a moment.

“Will you marry me?”

Because in your first wedding together, he did’t just want to take you to weddings and see other people getting married.

He wanted to marry you.

“Minho, I-” you sobbed, smiling. “Yes! Please!” You chuckled.

He hugged you tightly, and of course, just to make sure you knew who you were getting married to, he teased you.

“Like the one and only godess, Beyoncé, said once,” he mumbled in your ear, “if you like it and you’re sure, put a ring on it.”

“Minho!” You squirmed in between chuckles. “That’s not how the lyrics go!”

He shrugged. “English is hard,” he giggled. You laughed too, pulling him into a kiss.

You sure loved an idiot. But it was your idiot fiancé, soon to be your idiot husband.

Yours only.

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

~Kats, who hasn’t been in a wedding since 2018, and i think it kinda shows lol

[skzynas]

how he met her - stray kids

a/n: happy 6th anniversary stray kids! :) so thankful that I can be there supporting all eight of them, it’s been a wild ride!today is a special day to celebrate our boys and how they’ve grown as a group. proud is an understatement to describe how truly remarkable each one of them are. it is crazy to think I’ve been with them for every anniversary. hoping to see my favorite bunch of boys one day. 🤍 here’s to many more years of our chaotic, crazy & loving bunch guys who stole my heart!

synopsis: how each of the skz boys meet her. sweet, gentle, generous & silly scenarios that make you smile.

skz x fem!reader

please do not copy, steal or translate my works.

happy reading.

clover ☘︎

─ ☘︎*̥˚─── ☘︎*̥˚─

⋆·˚ ༘ * bang chan: his hometown farmers market

chan first saw her standing near the flower stand admiring the bouquets. it became a normal sunday routine as chan sits behind his grandmother’s veggie stand while he waits for her. she came around the same time each sunday, picking out a new flower bouquet. chan would admire her each time. he adored the way her laughs sounded, or the way her pink lips turned into that smile that stole his attention away from a customer.

one day a new flower was set out, and chan noticed they were being sold quite fast. he checked the time, she wasn’t going to be here for another hour. chan asks his grandmother to watch the stand for a quick moment while he runs over to buy a bouquet. chan ignores the silly banters from his grandmother as he returns cradling the flowers. anyone that passed by chan was quick to peek, trying to see if it was her. chan was so busy helping his grandmother prepare a box of cabbage when he’s nudged by his grandmother. she points over his shoulder out into the common area where she stood right at the counter of the flower stand.

she looked dejected as the store owner told her about the flowers. chan’s heart skipped three beats as he stumbled to the chair where he’d left the flowers. he rounded the corner, seeing her walking away with a tiny bouquet of daisy’s. chan takes a deep breath and locks a pace in to catch up to her.

“excuse me? were you here for these?” chan says. he felt his face erupt into flames.

she pivoted on her heel, the bouquet was shoved at her chest. chan’s shy eyes peer through his black bangs. he couldn’t hide his cheeky smile.

“yes? i can’t take these. they’re yours.” she says, going to hand chan back the flowers.

chan holds his hands up, shaking his head. “they’re yours. i bought them for you. they were selling fast and I knew you weren’t going to be there for a little while longer so I grabbed one before they were sold out.” chan spills, his ears now red as a rose.

she ganders at the flowers. removing one from the bouquet, she looks up at the mess of the boy, and holds out a singular flower.

“well, then you should at least admire a flower.”

chan graciously takes the flower. “does that mean I could still admire you alongside this flower?”

⋆·˚ ༘ * lee minho: cat shelter volunteer

minho is mumbling under his breath seeing someone dump off a kitten through the security cameras. he scoops the kitten up from the mound of blankets it was placed in. he carefully observes its frail, shaking body. he releases a sigh knowing it looked healthy, but just a little dirty. the door signals someone entering the building again. minho was about to snap until he saw the brightest eyes and a bubbly smile. something in his stomach jumped.

she’s walking up to the counter using a free hand to wave at minho’s co-volunteer. minho steps into the back office peeking his head around the corner. he hummed to himself hearing her voice was smooth like honey. she goes on to explain the treats (that she made herself) and the extra supplies she picked up for the clinic. the kitten mewled in minho’s arms causing the girl to stop talking. minho panics and steps further back into the room acting busy with the kitten.

he hears a voice behind his back as he’s cleaning the kitten's ears out. he looked over his shoulder to see the girl holding the bag of supplies. her eyes immediately went to the kitten that was trying to escape from minho’s hands. she made her way to the table, her hands brushing over minho's, grabbing the kitten that just broke free. she coddled the kitten stroking its head, getting it to calm down.

“i can hold the kitten while you finish cleaning it.” she offers a look directly into minho’s shy eyes.

minho doesn’t reply. he picks up the cloth and gently goes back to cleaning the kitten’s ears. he felt the tips of his ears grow red as the kitten squirmed more causing her body to be flush with minho’s trapping the kitten. finally, the kittens ears are clear and clean of any gunk. minho scoops the tired kitten from her arms and places it into a cage. the girl stood in the middle of the room, her eyes taking in everything while minho cleans the table. he paused to take a good look at her. she was friendly and bright when talking about the things she loved.

“how long have you been making treats for the cats here?” minho asks, snapping her from her trance.

she stares at her fingers, her mind thinking on how long she’s been helping the shelter. eventually she holds up six fingers. “around six months.”

minho hummed. “it’s funny, this is the first time i’ve seen you here.”

the girl laughs, her eyes smile. “really? i’ve watched you do countless things here for these felines. it’s sweet to see how much you care.”

the corners of minho’s mouth curve up, releasing a sweet laugh. “I have three cats at home that i got from here a couple years ago, and when i heard that this place was struggling to stay open, i knew i wanted to help them out.”

the girl folded her hands together. “are you accepting any more volunteers?”

minho straightens his posture. his eyebrows shot up. “uh, yeah. i can grab a paper for you to fill out.”

she gives minho a thumbs up. when minho came back from the desk in the lobby, he saw the girl petting the kitten she helped with earlier. she was scratching under its chin, cooing sweetly. minho shakes his head fighting back the biggest grin.

“welcome to the crew.” he cheers, stepping into the room waving the paper in the air. he couldn't hold back that smile.

⋆·˚ ༘ * seo changbin: his local gym

changbin is striding behind his two best friends walking into the gym, joking along. he was excited for today's workout. nothing was going to stop his cheerful mood, which meant his workout was going to be uninterrupted for he was already in the zone. he was the last to stand at the desk. pulling his wallet out to verify his membership, he instantly knew his workout wouldn’t happen today.

“huh? hey guys, im gonna run back out to my car. i lost my membership card.” he called out making his friends laugh.

changbin searched through his entire car, sitting in the backseat along the process trying to retrace his steps with his wallet. he dejectedly gave up wandering back in to make a new card. he reached the counter seeing a familiar face he’s only seen wandering the gym. he’s never seen this up close before, but my goodness he choked on his spit seeing her look up from the computer with the prettiest eyes and lips. it was the girl who always went cleaning the machines off again, straighting up the towels and putting the weights by order. he swore under his breath not remembering her name.

“hi changbin. late for your workout?” she teased.

changbin’s head shot upwards from his phone. a pink hue settles on his cheeks. “oh, uh kinda. I need to apply for a new membership card. I lost mine.”

the girl laughs. “well, let’s set you up.”

going through the motions of setting up a card went relatively quickly. while the girl was busy with the computer, changbin couldn’t help but to steal a glance of her. he stifled back a small smile as she bit her bottom lip leaning closer to the screen. changbin gazed back down to his paper, continuing to fill it out.

“okay, we just need to get a new photo. by the time you’re finished working out, your new card should be ready.” the girl says taking the papers from changbin.

she motioned changbin to step around the counter to stand with his back against the white wall. changbin gives her his cutest smile as she counts down. she laughs at the photo. “very nice. well, you’re clear to roam. just remember to visit here before leaving.”

changbin thanks her and goes straight to find his two friends at the biceps station. the entire time he wasn’t disturbed by his friends, it was her. he kept looking in her direction trying to point her out to his two friends.

“dude, just go talk to her.” his one friend says.

changbin erratically shakes his head. “I cant.”

his friend cocks an eyebrow up. “quit being backwards. you’ve been gawking her way for the past half hour.”

changbin got through his workout without his friends pestering him about the girl behind the desk. no sooner he’s cleaned himself and changed into comfy attire, changbin is dashing to the front desk. he pats his leg seeing she was still sitting there.

“hey, I remembered.” changbin says, drumming his fingers along the desk.

she giggled pulling open a desk drawer. “nice. okay, now don’t lose this. you understand?” she slips changbin’s new card in his hand. “you’re all set.”

“thanks. hey, uh would you like to workout with me sometime?” changbin asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

now it was her turn for her cheeks to turn red. “oh, sure! mind you, im not regularly working out like you. but I can manage.”

changbin waves a hand. “you’re totally good. if you want, I can teach you something.”

“i’d like that.”

“this weekend? say, saturday?” changbin suggested.

“im free. nine am?”

“perfect. and I promise I won’t lose my card.” changbin laughs.

⋆·˚ ༘ * hwang hyunjin: wandering the city with his camera

hyunjin props himself against a wall adjusting the settings on his camera. the wind picked up causing the clouds to uncover the sun. hyunjin quickly looks through the viewfinder to see if the settings were right. he cursed under his breath and messed with the settings again. it was a perfect day in the city where the hustle and bustle wasn’t too crazy. hyunjin wanted to add a different aesthetic on his instagram.

a mother and child pass by as hyunjin snapped a picture of their backs. he smiles at the picture as the child is happily staring at his mother holding up his toy. hyunjin continues his way around the city snapping photos and discovering new spots to hang with his friends. visiting his last spot, hyunjin spots a girl in a white sundress. she was holding up a hand shielding the sun from her line of vision. hyunjin lifts up his camera getting ready to take a photo when the girl suddenly turns around.

the sunlight hugs the girl, making a beautiful aura around her. her hair flows in the wind, a few wisps of hair caresses her face. hyunjin let’s a low whistle as he snapped a couple pictures. letting the camera fall to his chest, the girl watched hyunjin from a distance. she makes her way towards the boy while he’s going through his album.

“excuse me? are you a photographer?” she asks.

hyunjin’s eyes meet hers. “oh, kinda.” he mumbles.

she sways her body back and forth with a small smile playing upon her lips. hyunjin copies her grin.

“would you like to see them?” he asks.

“please!”

hyunjin goes back and turns the screen towards the girl’s way. this time he zoomed in showing her a closer look. the was saying something to hyunjin but he was too captivated to look away from the phones he took. he was taking in the outline of her in the silhouette dress, he loved how it flowed in the breeze along with her hair.

“can you send these to me? i love the way I look in these!” she says. “I can pay you!”

hyunjin shakes his head. “no need to pay me, I can send them to you. i apologize for not asking you for permission.”

she waves a hand. “you’re okay. I just was in your way.”

hyunjin gained her socials and number shortly after showing her more pictures. sitting on the train headed home, hyunjin edits her photos and finds himself staring into the screen with heart eyes.

⋆·˚ ༘ * han jisung: ice cream parlor

jisung is starting his second year working at the ice cream parlor located right outside of town. the parlor always attracted people far and wide. surely, there were familiar faces that jisung remembered. until that very afternoon a group of girls wandered in after their time at the beach. he spotted three faces he knew, until she stepped out from behind the one girl who was pressed against the glass observing the flavors.

jisung’s heart skipped a beat. he observed as she makes her way towards the glass taking in all the flavors being displayed. she bites her lip in concentration trying to decipher which flavor she would like. the girl to her left nudges her, pointing to a flavor right under jisung. her eyes look directly into jisung’s as she peers up right through the glass not even bothering to look at the ice cream flavor. her mouth fall into the shape of an ‘o’ and looks back down at the ice cream with red cheeks.

jisung held back a giggle. “what would you guys like?”

the girl with blonde curly hair pipped up first. “a strawberry cone, please.”

after scooping enough ice cream for four cones, the girl he adored was last. jisung has to swallow the lump in his throat. he’s freaking out inside just looking at her. absolutely smitten for this girl who he’s never seen before.

“and for you?” he manages to ask through a breath.

her finger tapped those pink lips jisung couldn’t stop looking at.

he wanted to know if they were as soft as velvet. sweet like a vanilla cupcake.

“a double chocolate cone.”

as jisung preps her order, he couldn’t help but see her gander the rainbow sprinkles. he takes it upon himself to coat the entire cone with sprinkles without even saying a word to her. he grabbed a couple napkins, placing them around the bottom of the cone before looking up to see the brightest smile.

the smile that erupted the butterflies in his stomach.

“is that all?” jisung asks, grinning right back.

she shook her head. “no. that’s perfect.”

jisung’s fingers brush hers, exchanging the cone. the boy’s nerves shot off almost dropping the sweet cold delicacy onto the floor.

“how much do I owe you?” she asks, her voice is sweet like honey that makes jisung melt inside.

“nothing. it’s on me today.”

⋆·˚ ༘ * lee felix: an arcade game

felix makes a beeline to his favorite game in the arcade. he hastily shoves a coin in to start up the machine. the familiar tune rings in the air and felix’s smile grows wider. clicking each of the buttons, felix was able to progress a bit further than he did last week. the last monster falls over and felix’s character holds their weapon up in triumph. his friend claps his shoulder asking to play next.

as the high scores loaded onto the screen, felix sees his name under a new one. his friend starts laughing hysterically as felix calls out the name above his.

“there’s no way! I can't believe this.” he sulked.

felix steps aside for his friend, still in shock about someone beating felix’s score. being a bit deterred, felix is wanting to see who this person is. the arcade was about to close in half an hour, still no sign of who’s high score that is. until a girl is walking up to the machine. felix was nearby on another game when his friend ran up to him, pointing over his shoulder.

“look, I found someone.”

felix whips his head to his left. there he saw her hair glowing brightly under the arcade lights. she dances along to the tune once inserting the coin. the game loads and she’s quick to start. felix holds his breath the entire time seeing her attacking the monster. he couldn’t believe she was nonchalant about mashing the buttons in and maneuvering to not be hit. the game ends, the character holds their weapon up. the high score goes above felix’s name.

“bingo.” he huffed, getting up from the chair marching over to the machine.

she was turning around by the time felix reaches her. he feels his breath get caught in his throat. she gives him a little smile before shying her head down slipping by him.

“hey! was that your name from before too?” felix says, not even caring about if he’s caught her off track.

“yes?”

felix faces the girl. her eyes were the prettiest color he’s ever seen. he suddenly forgot his words about how she could be ‘cheating’.

“i- um, how’d you do that?” he asks.

the girl steps up beside him, her hair brushes his shoulder. “i can show you.”

felix nodded, he was too worried that he would begin stuttering. she goes in showing him timing to hit the buttons to get the attacks to be stronger than before. she plays through and once again, her score goes above felix’s. she motions her hands to the machine letting felix through. the second time felix is able to get a higher score than before. he excitedly thanks the girl as a worker is letting them know the arcade is closed.

that next weekend, felix is there right when the arcade opens. he spent a whole hour on the game before finally beating her score. felix sees the girl walk up to the counter to get coins. he waves and hurriedly typed his name in.

felix scampers off and hiding behind a machine. he holds his breath seeing her approach the machine. the high score screen pops up and he couldn’t help but grin. felix sees her looking around, then down blushing wildly. she types something in and hurries off still smiling to herself. felix never wished a game would go faster than today while he was smashing the buttons, not even caring about how low his score was.

HIGH SCORES

hi beautiful, im felix.

hi handsome, im y/n.

⋆·˚ ༘ * kim seungmin: local music store

seungmin opens the door to the music shop, instantly being met with all types of musical instruments. from saxophones to electric guitars, the store was filled with instruments and avid music players. he went straight to the acoustic guitars that were on the back side of the shop. going through each of the acoustics, seungmin lands on a medium sized body acoustic. he goes to remove the guitar from the wall before spotting a sign that reads ‘please ask store clerk to play’. seungmin lets his hand drop and lets his eyes scope out a store clerk. unfortunately, it seemed that everyone was occupied. seungmin wanders around the guitars a bit longer before going back to the same one.

a girl is heading down the aisle. seungmin makes eye contact with her as she’s making her way towards him. he takes his gaze to another guitar acting as if he was busy. seungmin feels her presence. he tilts his head to the right to see you grabbing the guitar off the wall. that same guitar he wanted to play. she observed the guitar before holding it out to seungmin.

“my dad said to come help since he’s a bit busy.” she says, using her thumb jutting it over her shoulder to see a male nodding his head towards seungmin.

seungmin held back his smile, but he couldn't stop the blush settling on his cheeks. “sweet. thank you.”

“he gave me the okay for you to play anything you want. if you have questions, i'll be at the front counter restringing a twelve string.” she giggled before walking away.

seungmin turns his back towards the front counter where she could possibly be watching him. within a couple minutes seungmin is in his own world playing the guitar humming a familiar tune. no one came to bother him as he went along to play a couple more acoustic guitars. he made sure to grab a couple more picks and a pack of new nylon strings before making his way towards the front counter where the girl was wiping down the twelve string she had been working on. seungmin’s jaw drops when she’s tuning the guitar in record speed making sure the twelve string rung sweetly. she notices seungmin and her cheeks instantly flush.

“sorry, i got too into tuning. are you all set?”

seungmin nodded handing over his things. “how often are you here?”

she paused scanning the strings giving a smile down at her hands. “pretty often. I hide in the back most of the time.” she giggles.

she was tugging on the strings of his heart as she kept her gaze on the counter. he adored how her hair caressed her jawline. seungmin was captivated by this stranger he’d never seen before. he couldn’t help but break into a smile as she’s handing him a small bag.

“maybe you should be out here more often.” seungmin mentions.

her eyes sparkled. “really? I mean i would love to learn that song you were playing earlier. you’re really good at playing it.”

“I can swing by next week.” he replies, making a mental note to cancel his plans with his sister.

she smiles for the umpteenth time and they exchange numbers. seungmin sits in his car letting it idle while he’s smiling like a cheshire cat.

⋆·˚ ༘ * yang jeongin: locker mates

jeongin anxiously awaits in the office. his family moved to a new city right in the middle of a school year. new faces give him a welcoming smile as they cross paths with the new boy. the vice principal greets jeongin along with a girl standing behind him. she peers around the man giving jeongin a little smile. the vice principal goes explaining that he’ll be shown around today by this student. once gaining his schedule and passcode to his locker, the two are dismissed into the empty halls.

the girl leads him down each part of the school pausing to show his classes and where the lunch room is. jeongin graciously makes small talk, stuttering on some of his words. but she didn’t seem to mind his little pauses.

“your locker is located in this hallway.” she explains turning the corner. “all the age groups here are located in the same area.”

jeongin peers left and right wandering the hall trying to find his locker number. he tried reading his paper but his hands were shaking. he hoped that she wouldn’t notice. she stood in the middle of the hall observing the boy giggling at his cheeks growing red.

“what number is the locker?”

jeongin’s stomach flips. “twenty-three.” he mumbled.

a surprised expression pops onto her face. she marched over to a locker and patted the one beside it. “your locker is right beside mine!”

jeongin releases a laugh. her smile was infectious, maybe today wasn’t so bad after all. he put his code right on the first attempt and began unloading his bag.

“do you want to meet back here before lunch? you can sit with me and my friends.” she asks, tucking a book under her arm.

jeongin nodded. “if that’s okay with you.”

“of course!” she exclaimed. opening her locker, she’s scribbling something down on a purple sticky note before putting it on one of jeongin’s books. she gives it a good pat. “this is my number if you need any help. i'll see you soon?”

again, jeongin dips his head. she waltzed off leaving jeongin with his back leaning the lockers with a shy smile.

weeks pass and jeongin eats lunch with her and her friends (which he’s become really close with too). weekly study sessions at the huge library and meet ups at café’s to exchange notes led jeongin to grow a bit more comfortable around the girl. he still felt insanely reserved around her friends. a spontaneous feeling settles within jeongin one day in class. he tore a page from his notebook letting his pen fill the page. with an excuse to use the restroom, he’s sprinting down the halls to their lockers. his eyes twinkled coming to a stop in front of her locker. slipping the paper through the vents, jeongin couldn’t help but giggle.

─ ☘︎*̥˚─── ☘︎*̥˚─

©️ luckieleaf 2024

[skzynas]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[skzynas]

꒰ 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 이민호

summary : it's coming up on your boyfriends' death anniversary, and something's finally telling you to let go

genre : angst, minho x afab!reader tws : angst, death, grief, depression, various substance abuse, mentioned suicide, various suicidal thoughts, very slight reference to religion author notes : maybe i cried idk word count : 3.4k

skin to skin. it’s what most humans crave. the contact and warmth of someone; romantically, familiar, platonically. all humans are the same. we are designed to crave a comfort since birth, to form connections beyond intellect. we look for anyone and everyone who could fill that desire… and when abandoned, nothing will ever feel like enough.

“you’d never leave me, right?” you said, tracing small circles on the tan skin of your boyfriend, whomst you love with your entire heart. he was everything to you, and you him, “you’ll stay with me forever, right?”

you bounced lightly as he chuckled, “of course,” you felt his hand grip your bare side harder, “forever.”

“promise me.” you held up a pinky, and his eye cracked open at the shade behind his lids.

he stroked your side gently as he brought his other hand up, locking his smallest finger with yours, “i promise, y/n.”

the bitter reality hit as your eyes opened. you couldn't figure out the time, and honestly you didn't want to check. the void of color in your room — life — was enough to always put a dampen on your spirit, and ultimately, day. you turned over, and for it being a relatively good dream, you were drenched in sweat. you reached across the bed, the sheets wrinkled where you hadn't been sleeping. but, you were alone, and it sunk whatever was left of your heart.

you grumbled, borderline whined as you turned over. you don't know why there was an actual pain shooting throughout your body. you don't know why the impending desire to just lay there until the end of time consumed you. you don't know why your eyes teared up, creating a watercolor painting against the dimmed colors of your room.

you don't know why you were always questioning what was real and fake nowadays. you could've been caught up in a nightmare — you figured you could wake up any moment and not feel this jaded in your everyday life — but it never subsided.

you didn't want people to tell you that everything would all be okay. you didn't want people to tell you that depression passes. you didn't need anyone to know that what you felt right now was less than human. you didn't need the memories to remind you of what can't be washed away; of what you can't get back. you didn't want to lose those moments in time though, like you had lost the real thing, because it was all you had left, but knowing that you couldn't make any more felt like ripping stitches.

it was acid on a never healing wound knowing that peace was something you only felt when asleep. and the only way you got to sleep nowadays was with the aid of various drugs.

it was an unhealthy habit. a struggle you knew shouldn't feel as good as it did. but a vice is still a vice whether it has that name or not.

your hand reached to the side table, finding your phone and ultimately leaving it face down. you continued to search until your hand found a rattling bottle — an orange pill bottle — that peers would say you practically lived off of. and you did. only ever feeling remotely like yourself when a couple were thrown to the back of your throat to dissolve into your bloodstream.

you truthfully didn't know the dose you were supposed to be taking, everything dulled down by your seemingly never ending high — you never being sober because it was too hard to — and you definitely didn't know why your psychologist kept prescribing them. maybe she had no idea that you were on the edge of a cliff, just desperate for an excuse to topple off it, but you found it hard to believe that she was that bad at her job.

you felt like you were just a lifeless vessel being controlled by the fumes clouding your brain. yet, if you wanted to stop, you would, right? it wasn't an addiction if it was willing, was it?

maybe. but truthfully your secondhand high was too strong for you to care. so, you lit up another carelessly thrown about blunt, inhaling the smoke until you were completely numb. until you couldn't feel your fingertips. until you couldn't form a coherent thought.

until you couldn't remember why you wanted to die, too.

you trudged the scene your bedroom was in: clothes, packages, bottles and other miscellaneous things littering the hardwood. despite being alive, you felt like you were drowning. a physical sting in your chest. a deep sigh that never escaped your lips. you were walking on broken glass with every step, but the pain would never be comparable to the turmoil you already find yourself in.

if this wasn't hell, you didn't want to know what was.

you never turned on any lights, the windows being covered by curtains 24/7. you could see through the flimsy fabric that the sun was barely still up, or maybe it was just gracing the sky with its' presence. you didn't know, and if you didn't have to make a living in a capitalist society, you wouldn't care either.

you would be contempt living (more like going about) your day inside the confines of your home. sure, you hated being alone, especially with your thoughts, but you were never truly alone; haunted by the ghosts that paint your walls in a dark shade of red; and you were never sober enough to think anymore.

never letting yourself feel the gravity of grief, quoted from your therapist, is not allowing you to receive closure, to heal from the loss of someone you gave your entire heart too.

however, closure, in your fucked up mind, meant forgetting. and as much as it pained you, chained you down in the depths, you couldn't let go of the memories. even if you ended up dead because of them. at least, you thought there was a chance you'd be able to meet again that way.

you weren't in denial, like your all-knowing doctor seems to think. no, you knew what happened. you remember it clearly despite trying your hardest to cloud it out. you couldn't be going through the stages of grief if they never changed — they couldn't even be considered stages if they've turned into your despised lifestyle.

you loved, but hated the never changing facial expression. you loved, but hated the liquid that made you so slurred. you loved, but hated the fact that someone you couldn't have left you with the door wide open. you loved, but hated knowing that maybe you weren't good enough to make him want to stay. you loved, but hated that you are still so in love with him when he's, where? if he could see you in this state, would he be able to say that he once loved you too? if he could see you crying every night, dressed in the clothes of his that you have yet to wash, would he still think that out was the only way in?

he was your everything, even after everything had ended.

so, why weren't you his last thought? why didn't he even have the decency to write you a letter in embodiment of his dying wish? why couldn't he just give you the answers you used to so desperately yearn for? even in death, he had to be the selfish one. wasn't leaving enough? you didn't know.

but, it's been 12 months.

those answers never came, and now you didn't expect them to magically appear. not after you tore apart your entire apartment, inch by inch, crevice by crevice, coming up empty like it was a cruel fucking joke. like you were a rat trapped in a cage, on the hunt for cheese that was behind an unreachable wall.

you used to wonder if you had done something differently, complained less, listened more, would he not just be the rain that splotched your skin.

it's as if the sky was mocking you. as if it's asking if you really had the audacity to be upset with something you couldn't control.

but you were only half alive, barely half a mind to think of anything rational when your stability was ripped from under you like it was just a flimsy rug to being with.

you were free falling, and you never learned how to fly.

“y/n,” your eyes tried focusing as best they could, but the flashing lights were making your head spin more than it should, “we have to check inventory before opening. the boss said someone’s been stealing — and we’re not accusing you because we know what you take.”

the woman in front of you, your coworker of a couple years brought her hand to rest against your forehead. “are you okay? you seems worse than normal.”

“u-uh, yeah.” she eyed you in disbelief, “i’m good.”

you weren’t, but you still followed her behind the bar to crouch down and count the bottles. you’d probably use most of them anyways, as tonight was always the busiest of the week.

truth is, you weren’t even sure what number you were on when you fell onto your butt, catching your coworkers attention. the booming music making your chest bounce with the bass, and the in-time lights spinning and flashing and changing was throwing you off.

even if you were crossed, you’ve never had a problem getting your work done. you could even fight back the nausea, the discomfort and dizziness that it caused your body — but today, today was different.

you weren’t in-tune with anything. not being able to beat the funk. even when you tried to stand back up, you put your hand on a bunch of napkins, slipping and falling right back to the ground. it was frustrating, borderline humiliating. even as she tried to help you up out of the good in her heart.

you felt tears brimming, “y/n. it’s okay, let’s just get up. i can take inventory. you seem like you need to rest for a little bit before opening.”

stupid, useless, unbelievable.

why couldn’t today just go the way it was supposed to? you kept wondering if this was a cruel joke. today of all days had to be the worst on top of everything it stood for. it had to be someone’s doing. and whoever’s been controlling your life must’ve been one sick individual.

you, at least, hoped they were happy in your misery.

you huffed, forcing yourself onto your knees, hands splayed over them. you looked at the bones of your knuckles, wondering how hard one had to hit to get knocked out — you were always better unconscious than conscious.

then, your eyes set on a clear bottle. it was filled to the brim with a blue liquid that you didn’t even bother to read before pulling it off the shelf. you opened it and took a long swig. when you finally put it down, your coworker had a horrified look on her face.

you gave the bottle up easily when she reached for it, “y/n… what’s the matter with you today? you need help. seriously, i’m so sick of you fucking everything up!” she grabbed at your hands, trying to get you to stand up, but you were too heavy for her to even begin to move; a dead weight, if you will. “oh my god, get up! all you do is get high and throw a pity party! how long is this going to be? how do you even live like this?”

it was a question you heard often. how do you even live like this? but they didn’t know living would be such a painstakingly long journey. sure, maybe they were only asking because they cared, because they were genuinely curious, but you had no answer.

and you feared you never would.

was living truly worse than dying? all signs would point to yes. maybe he had the right idea after all…

you heard whispering above you, “it’s his death anniversary today, j-just — let’s just send her home. we can deal with it tonight, right? customers aren’t going to want to see her drinking their drinks. help me get her up. she’s miserable.”

you felt like you had lost all control — seemingly having none to begin with — you got up on your own, something within possessing you, and stumbled to the door.

maybe your coworker was right. maybe you do fuck everything up. maybe you were miserable. maybe that’s why you’re here and he’s not. maybe that’s why you can’t seem to grasp the sand that keeps slipping through your fingers. maybe you were better off with the same fate as the one you loved so dearly. maybe the depression would finally consume you, like your therapist said it would if you didn’t intervene, like you’ve been praying day and night for.

you wanted to die, but you always thought it would’ve been in his arms.

now, you were cold. a wondering spirit searching for the only thing that could set them free; and what you feared is knowing that that thing wasn’t something that you’d ever find.

you swear you could feel a hand on you. a grip on your shoulder that kept pulling you back. but maybe that was your diagnosis of trauma-induced hallucinations. because truthfully, your derealization and depersonalization had gotten so bad your doctor thought about prescribing you anti-psychotics.

however, you’d have to un-ghost your psychiatrist for that to ever happen.

your breathing was labored, the earth spinning too quickly for your liking. you tried to blink away the blurriness, but the sky was also too bright, despite the rain, making you squint.

it seemed everything was retaliating all at once. it’s said karma catches up with bad people, and were you finally falling victim to it?

no, you were just falling.

falling so hard that you can’t even remember what happened next. did you pass out after hitting your head on the concrete? did you die? you could only hope for so much.

your eyes opened, but the world seemed different, colorful once again; a dusty orange hue to the air. you looked around confused as to how you ended up back in your room.

did someone find you? so you hadn’t hit your head hard enough to die; maybe next time, you thought.

you looked to your feet as they left wet footprints behind on a clean floor. all of your boyfriend’s clothes were folded nicely on the bed, as if someone had just washed them. it no longer smelled of mildew and various rotting substances. you couldn’t even find the couple grams that were on your nightstand this morning. but there was also another smell wafting through the air; a smell of tea and cherry blossoms.

much like that night 12 months ago.

the night everything in your world had come crashing down upon you. the night you lost every part of yourself to the grim reaper. the night you lost the game you thought you were winning. the night you lost the only love of your life.

the night minho, your boyfriend of six years, committed suicide.

he left you to relive every waking moment without him like life was a cruel fucking joke on you. left you with the pitiful looks friend and family would give you. left you with funeral preparations and arrangements. left you with heaps of chrysanthemums. left you to weep as the cherry blossoms fell from the trees and snow from the sky.

he left you in every season, and you never knew why.

you never knew why the radio static sounded like him. never knew why the smoke would bounce off his silhouette. never knew why you prayed to someone who clearly wasn’t real — who clearly didn’t care to hear your pleas — but, god did it bother you once you’d figured out you wasted all that time. you never knew the why of a lot of questions, and it left you feeling nothing but empty; numb; jaded; hallow; anything that spelled out that you were just a walking corpse with very low cognitive recognition.

you found it hard to believe he loved you as much as he did. but if face-to-face, you’d forget that thought ever crossed your mind, because at the end of the day you were beyond devoted to him. he was your soulmate, and you’d find him in any lifetime, you were sure of it.

so, why couldn’t you let go? why couldn’t you do yourself the favor and move on? whether that be in this or the next life. why couldn’t you follow his lead and find him once again.

maybe you would finally awake from this torturous nightmare —

“minho?” you all but shouted out against the gentle breeze of an opened window, “minho? are you there? is that you?”

you heard the pattern of steps on wood, soon met with the face you’d not grown to forget. he looked confused, concerned at your obvious state of disbelief, “are you okay, baby?”

you felt his hands on you, watching as they slowly followed the length of your arms, finally pulling you into his chest.

you wanted to ask how, but you know that you only ever see him when you’re high. but you didn’t feel high right now; and you obviously knew what it would feel like if you were, after abusing anything you could get your hands on for a year.

you wanted to come up with any excuse, but the very real scent of his cologne (that had faded from his hoodies after a couple months) filled your nostrils. you felt comforted, which hasn’t been something you felt for what seemed like decades. minho was the only one who brought you solace, but he had left you. so how was he — no, how were you here right now?

god, you must’ve finally hit your wall. you must’ve finally found the breaking point and flew past it. you had finally gone insane, that was the only real explanation you could come up with.

your therapist said it would happen if you didn’t quit, but why would you ever listen to her? hell, maybe you should’ve. but, if this was insane maybe you didn’t really mind being enclosed in his arms.

but it felt wrong. how could you spend months of your precious life grieving the fact that he was dead, if he’s hugging you right now? how could you spend all your time getting high enough to not feel sad if he was right here in front of you?

his flesh felt real, but so did the ache in your heart.

“h-how?” he hummed, not entirely hearing what you said. you pushed him back, but the grip on your forearms remained, “how are you he-here? how are you alive? y-you killed yourself, minho.”

he seemed confused, a slight smile still adorning his features though, like he couldn’t believe the prank you were playing on him. but to you, he looked so real, just as you couldn’t erase from your memory — a snapshot in time that you captured oh-so-long ago.

“you’re dead, i-i was there. i buried you!” the room seemed to lose all color — like it’d been splashed with arctic water, a shiver running up your spine — which once had an orange hue, was now a dark shade of blue, like the depths of the ocean.

his face lost the smile, ice lacing his fingertips almost like he had been deep in the dirt rotting away. “i found you minho. i-i tried to save you but it didn’t work! i tried, i swear i did, b-but,” tears brimmed your eyes, quickly making their way in valleys down your cheeks. your voice was weak, but you hadn’t used it much in the last year anyways, “you were dead, minho! the emt’s pronounced you dead at the scene. y-you’re not real. y-you left me. i watched them put you in the ground. i cried for hours, minho! i stayed with you for days. i prayed to a fucking god i don’t believe in to make you come back to me! i only ever saw you inside my head, when i wished upon every star it was real! minho, you’re gone.”

his words were a push to the knife that only ever danced upon your skin, never plunging and never drawing blood, “then, why won’t you let me go?”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

[skzynas]

not yet (ksm x gn!Reader)

pairing: Seungmin x reader

genres/au/rating: angst, fluff, friends (idiots) to lovers, pg

summary: "Not yet" was a phrase that came to define Seungmin's life for the longest time. Until you came along, and changed everything.

warnings: swearing, kind of fake dating, emotionally stunted Seungmin, kissing, a smol but significant fight, Minho being a menace but also the voice of reason

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this was something cute I wrote on a whim and tell me why my whole heart is fluttering (probably bc Seungmin is bias wrecking me a lot lately). This is me being a space and time nerd on main, but I imagine Seungmin as lowkey a math nerd in this too. it'll make sense when you read! i hope you enjoy!

To Kim Seungmin time was always infinite, the universe stretching out like a vast abyss that he sought to understand. He’d grumble when his mother stretched the too-tight party hat around his ears on every birthday growing up. Because what was the point, when every day was a birthday for someone or something?

An infinite series of moments made way for an infinite number of chances, and Seungmin became fearless. Fearless because there was no way he could mess up at life, not when there would always be another chance to try again later.

And so, Seungmin’s favourite phrase, whenever his mother asked him to do anything, was “not yet.”

It was a phrase that came to define his life for the longest time. Until you came along, and changed everything.

“Seungminnie, don’t you ever get tired of showing up to dinner alone?” his mother laments over the yukgaejang, while Seungmin stares blankly at her, unable to comprehend her question. What did she mean, alone? The whole point of family dinners was so he wouldn’t have to resort to eating ramen in the dim light of his own apartment, or risk begging Minho for home-cooked food, fearing the smirk on his older roommate’s face.

As if on cue, the doorbell sounds, and Seungmin is the first one up, spoon clattering on the table and stew abandoned. Within a few strides, he’s swinging the door open, only to be met with burning in his nose and scratching in his throat, the tell-tale signs of a sneeze making themselves known.

Your face peeks out from behind the flowers, flustered and eyes growing wide with concern.

“Damn it, I thought you wouldn’t be allergic to these ones,” you whine, and Seungmin sniffles, ushering you inside. “Sometimes I think you’re faking it, Minnie.”

“___!” his mother runs to the door at the sound of your voice, nearly smushing the bouquet as she wraps you in the biggest hug. “We haven’t seen you in so long, I made extra yukgaejang, come!”

And as she leads you by the hand into the dining room, Seungmin hangs back, a smug smile on his face. The universe had his back, once again.

The dinner table conversation turns lively once again, his parents and sister pestering you with updates about your life in the city, like you and Seungmin aren’t still attached at the hip like you were when you were children.

There’s a lull in the conversation, silence falling over the table with only the clanging of utensils to fill the void, broken only by a heavy sigh. Seungmin knows what’s coming next, and so do you, judging by the way you sink into your seat.

“I always thought the two of you would end up together,” his mother blurts out, tears forming in her eyes.

You pat her on the back, dancing around her confession, telling her you’ll always be ready to show up uninvited to dinner as long as there’s an extra bowl of yukgaejang waiting, and all Seungmin can do is stare into his bowl.

No matter how many times he reminded her that you were just friends, that the realistic probability of you and Seungmin dating moved closer and closer to zero the older you grew, she stubbornly refused to give up hope. 

She’d throw it back in his face, repeating his favourite phrase. “Not yet.”

And Seungmin couldn’t tell her maybe some things were just meant to never come to life. 

The two of you walk back towards your apartments in silence, your shadows dancing on the sidewalk, creating a far livelier scene than the comfortable silence that exists between you.

Seungmin doesn’t notice you’ve fallen behind until he’s at least ten paces ahead of you, turning back to see your lonely figure under a streetlight, staring up at the stars. He resists the normal impulse in his brain to leave you behind, knowing you’ll catch up, and instead backtracks, stopping to stand next you.

“Do you really think it’d be so bad?” you ask the darkness, not turning to meet Seungmin’s eyes. “If we were to actually date?”

Seungmin’s mind is sent reeling at your confession, the neat box in which he’d compartmentalized your relationship suddenly bursting open, exploding with chaos.

“We’re getting older, Minnie,” you ponder. “Don’t you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

Seungmin’s face darkens, and he knows he can’t answer the question without hurting your feelings. Because to him, time was never something he’d run out of. If he fucked something up, there’d always be something new, something better waiting for him on the horizon.

“You shouldn’t think like this, ____,” he breathes out. “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

The two of you are sitting on the sidewalk now, long legs hanging off the curb. Seungmin instinctively pulls you into his side, making sure your body is shielded from any stray passerby that happen to be inhabiting the sidewalk or the wild people in the bike lane. 

“It’s always yet, Seungmin, but what about now? What are we doing with our lives?”

Seungmin’s never thought about now. He’s thought about the past, like the time he showed up to your house on your 16th birthday, a copy of your favourite novel clutched behind his back. Only to go ungifted when you’d barreled into his arms, raving over the used car your parents had gotten. He’d thought a lot about the future, the two of you going on to end up with faceless partners, settling down in houses whose walls he couldn’t picture, kids whose names he hadn’t thought out, maybe a dog or a cat. 

But he never stopped to think about the present, and looking into your eyes, he remembers exactly why. It terrified him, the faint glistening of tears, the way your breathing sped up, your fists clenching and unclenching. And he’d never had good advice to give, just always ranting on about how “tomorrow is a new day.”

Seungmin bows his head, long strands of hair falling into his face, hopes you don’t see the way his own lip quivers when he thinks about right now, the two of you sitting on a city sidewalk, together but still lonely.

“Okay,” he manages to choke out, and your head whips around in shock.

“What do you mean, okay?” you sniffle, and Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s do it. Let’s try dating.”

He feels your body go still next to him, arm going limp when you suddenly decide to let go, hoisting yourself up.

“Minnie, I was just kidding when I said that. You don’t have to date me if you don’t want to.”

“Who said I didn’t want to? I mean try, at least?” Seungmin rises up to his feet, heart thundering at the blank look on your face. “If we try and it doesn’t work, there’s always another chance, right?”

Your face twists in a strange expression, so brief Seungmin could have almost imagined it, before you let out a dazzling smile, one Seungmin thinks rivals even the brightest star he sees in the sky tonight.

“Right.”

“You’re actually fucking insane,” Minho mumbles through a mouth stuffed full with dumplings, stealing the container away when Seungmin reaches over with his chopsticks. “I shouldn’t be offering you food, I should be signing you up for therapy.

“Everybody always wants ____ and I to end up together,” Seungmin grumbles, snatching a dumpling anyway, much to Minho’s dismay. “Now that we actually decide to date, it’s suddenly a problem?”

“Dating isn’t some science experiment, okay!” Minho grows flustered, the tips of his ears turning red. “It involves real people, and real feelings! Have you even asked ____ if they’re okay with this?”

You were fine, Seungmin convinced himself.  In fact you’d been exceedingly chipper, brighter than usual, chatting about anything and everything under the sun. It gave Seungmin confidence that maybe this could work. That maybe things didn’t have to change between you two, because maybe you’d been right for each other all along and he’d just missed it.

His phone vibrates with a text from you, and Seungmin is shoving the last dumpling in his mouth, ignoring Minho’s disapproving look as he throws his coat over his shoulders, bounding down the stairs to meet you outside his apartment.

“Want to go to a coffee shop—” the air is knocked out of your lungs when Seungmin crushes you in a hug, your fists banging on his back to let you go ten seconds later. Your face is flushed, an eyebrow raised in confusion, and Seungmin thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

“Isn’t that what couples do when they see each other?” Seungmin asks innocently, only to be met with a sigh.

“You’re paying for my coffee today,” you grumble. 

Dating you is easier than Seungmin imagined — the years of friendship provided enough experience in how to spend time together, but now he gets to tell everyone that you’re together together. He thinks his mother’s joyful scream nearly splits his eardrums the moment she finds out, rushing to the phone to dial up your own mother. The conversation between them lasts a good hour and a half, and a smile pricks at Seungmin’s lips at the pride in her voice.

He gets to catch you off guard by randomly deciding to pay for your smoothie, or to wrap an arm lazily around your waist when you’re talking to someone, the subtle squeak in your voice sending his heart aflutter.

Dating you is everything Seungmin could have imagined and more, because those infinite moments he’d always thought about, are moments spent making you laugh at his deadpan jokes, moments spent clinging to your back, begging you to make him some food since Minho stubbornly refuses to, and he thinks there’s no way he could mess this up.

Until he kisses you. The two of you are cuddled up on the couch, the soft soundtrack of the film you’d chosen together lulling Seungmin to sleep in your lap, his eyes heavy-lidded. It’s when your leg shifts that Seungmin wakes up, sleepy eyes blinking up at you, only to realize your hand is resting against his cheek, thumb softly stroking his skin. He wonders if the stars in your eyes are from the reflection of the movie on the screen, or whether they mirror the ones in his own. 

Seungmin moves without thinking, his forehead collapsing against your own, and he feels your surprised gasp against his cheek before his lips are brushing against yours softly. Warmth blooms where your fingertips still rest on his cheek, lighting up his entire body with an unspoken feeling. 

He breaks away from you, still holding you close, but the smile that grazes his lips is gone as soon as it appeared, your downcast face in front of him. Seungmin waits one second, then two, then a whole minute, but it feels like an infinity while he wills you to meet his eyes.

“I can’t do this Minnie,” you finally whisper, your voice bubbling and breaking, a lone tear streaming down your face.

“I don’t understand,” the words feel heavy on Seungmin’s tongue, like he’s numb and struggling to get them out. It was just one moment, there’d be another that followed, but how could everything have gone wrong?

“I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something to me,” you finally let go of his hoodie, and Seungmin felt the cold he hadn’t noticed before seep in. “To you, this is all infinite, like it’s always been. There’s always a yet, because every moment is temporary. It’s meaningless when you have tomorrow to worry about, right? Wondering where we’ll go on our next date or what random thing you’ll do next to knock the breath out of me?”

“But this,” you continue. “Right here, right now, it isn’t just something to me. It’s everything. It’s everything because I love you and because I’ve always loved you and because you’ve never been able to see that in your infinity, there has to be some kind of beginning and end. And you’re it for me. But I’ll never be enough for you.”

Seungmin wants to tell you you’re wrong, that he’s stopped thinking about infinity and mere moments, because he realized the same thing, that he never started actually paying attention to time until he met you, and you injected all the moments of his life with meaning. But the words that come out instead are wrong, so wrong.

“You’ll get another chance,” he watches you flinch at his words, rushing to slip on your shoes. You linger at the door, hand twisting around the doorknob. “You just haven’t met the right person yet.”

The knob clicks, and the door slams. And Seungmin is left alone, in the vast abyss of his infinity once more.

Minho spares him the lecture, and Seungmin is grateful. He doesn’t need to hear the “I told you so”, doesn’t need to face his mother’s concerned face when she asks why you haven’t been coming by lately. The loneliness cuts into him like a knife, and he wonders if the imaginary future he’d dreamed of all his life would be enough to take the pain of right now away.

The weather grows colder, and Seungmin’s heart freezes along with it. Time stretches out before him as he looks at his phone, waiting for a call or a text, teasing him, threatening him, as if to say - don’t you wish you had enough?

He spends his days staring out the window, watching the world pass by around him, realizing he’s tired of moving alongside it without you by his side. And then the snow begins to fall, a few flakes to start out, until it turns into a sea of white, and he can’t even see outside anymore.

The door clicks softly behind him, Minho’s voice echoing behind him while he stomps the snow from his boots.

“It’s really coming down out there,” Minho pauses, his voice clipped. “I saw ____ at the grocery store just now.”

Seungmin’s head whips around at the mention of you, but Minho, ever the menace, keeps his mouth shut, not knowing whether the next sentence that leaves his mouth will send Seungmin spiralling or not.

It’s silent between them for a few moments, Minho putting away his food in the kitchen cupboard, while Seungmin runs through endless scenarios in his head about whether you’re happy or sad, whether you’re doing fine or falling apart, whether leaving tore your heart in pieces as much as it did his.

And that’s when he spots it, tucked between the cushions of the couch. Your scarf, blue patterned and worn. You must have left it the last time you were here.

Seungmin knows that rationally, you’d probably have a backup scarf. Knows that rationally, with how much he’d chewed your head off about the future, that you’d have planned ahead.

But you’d never been the rational one.

Minho jumps in surprise when Seungmin leaps to his feet, yanking the scarf out from the couch.

“It’s cold outside,” Seungmin breathes out, and Minho raises an eyebrow. “Right now. Right now it’s cold outside, and ___ left their scarf here, and they, and I– shit!”

He’s running out the door before Minho can stop him, your scarf against his chest like it’s a lifeline.

. . . 

He sees you just outside the grocery store, struggling with the heavy load of groceries you’d bought for the storm. The tiny shiver that rakes down your spine is enough to send him running your way.

“Seungmin?” you call out to him in shock, seeing his frantic figure bound towards you in the snow.

“Your scarf,” he heaves, shoving the crumpled fabric into your hands. “You left your scarf.”

“Minnie,” you can’t help the nickname that slips out. “It’s okay, I have another one for next time–”

“This isn’t about next time,” Seungmin interrupts you, wrapping his arms around you, not caring that you drop your bags into the snow. “This is about right now. And right now it’s snowing.”

“Yeah,” your breath comes out in a fog. “It is.”

“And right now,” Seungmin’s voice cracks, unshed tears filling his eyes. “Right now I love you. I think I probably always have and I probably always will, but that doesn’t matter. You’re my past, you’ll be my future, and I hope you’ll be mine, right now in this moment.”

“What about not yet? The infinite possibilities of the universe?” You whisper, clutching his coat while he wraps the scarf around you.

“The universe is infinite because you’re at the center of it - an infinite number of ways to make you smile, to be whatever you need, to tell you I love you. You’re the beginning and the end, and everything in between.”

Your lips are crashing onto his, mouths colliding messily through the veil of your tears, and Seungmin never wants to let go. When you break apart, it’s to lay your head on his chest.

“Come home with me,” he whispers into your hair. “Let me make you some tea.”

You shake your head, burrowing into Seungmin’s neck, humming your response.

“Not yet.”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜