When Lohen's finished with all of his excruciatingly long Vice Captain duties, the first thing he plans to do is remove all the heavy clothing off himself and collapse face first on his bed.
But whaddya know? You were there too, already sleeping on his pillows like you owned it. He assumes you've been waiting for him but fell asleep before he could make it home.
Lohen blinks tiredly and takes a moment to just stare at your body in his bed. His brain almost short circuiting when he sees your bare legs barely covered. His blanket is right there!
Yeah, he'll talk to you about that later.
He begins to strip off his coat and armor and belt and whatever that was in the way which eventually left him clad only in a thin night shirt and boxers.
He says nothing when approaching you and silently adjusts himself behind you so he could wrap an arm around your waist and press his face into the warm skin of your nape.
You always smell so good in his sheets, all pliant and pretty. He wishes moments like this could last at least half the time he had on the daily.
His scent practically engulfs you, exuding faintly of patchouli and mint along with the summer heat that clung to his skin all day.. this manages to pull you further into the soft embrace of slumber.
He relishes in the simple comfort you gave him during the long nights he was particularly exhausted in. The steady breathing of your chest which he tries to match with, his legs interlocking themselves under yours automatically and his front pressed flush against your back to protect you from whatever lurks in the darkness of this room.
Soft and safe, that is what he likes to feel when he's done with Captain duties. This was much better than hugging a pillow.
Lohen curls closer— as close as his body will allow it, all lean muscle and limbs around yours like vines wrapped around a strong pillar. To him, you were something similar to that.
Someone who didn't see him as manic or impulsive. But as someone capable of being thoroughly loved and understood.
Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but to Lohen? You're definitely somebody worth fighting for.
"I spy with my little red eye something blonde and definitely a worthy opponent to cripple under my heel… It's the Honorary Knight! Hey, what brings you here? Oh, just a little stroll? Cool, cool. Hmm? What are these flowers I'm holding? Hahaha, it's Qingxin! I had it delivered all the way to Liyue, just to surpriiiiseee a special someone. And who might that be? Well, take a guess. They're someone I'm willing to rip this world apart for if someone else dared to even lay a strand of hair on their head. Someone that I'm willing to be used by in any way they see fit. They can collar me, punish me, or even abandon me, and I would still crawl back to them on my hands and knees like a happy, wagging dog eager for their affection. As long as they're happy, I'm happy. Sooo, any guesses? Why the frightened expression, dude?"
II. CHAT: SADISTIC TENDENCIES
"Hmm, I wonder what other toys I can use to make them squirm… Something that could bring tears of pleasure and pain at the same time. Maybe some hot wax or a flogger with sharp edges. Hehehehe…"
III. CHAT: PAPERWORK
"Can this stupid paperwork disappear any faster? That damn Varka knows I have a date with them tonight, and I can't be stuck here all fucking day. I swear, I'm thiiisss close to setting the headquarters on fire just to get out of here."
IV. ABOUT THE OTHERS
"Hmm? How did the others react to my relationship with them? Bahahaha! Oh, they didn't believe me at first; they thought I manipulated them or something. Yeah, the other knights made up these bizarre rumors about us, like when I probably threatened them with a dagger to their neck to make them date me. Can you believe that? I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy... probably. Anyway, eventually they saw how happy we were together and accepted it. Some of them even apologized for doubting us. Whatever, it's one thing to doubt, but it's another thing to spread false rumors. It's all water under the bridge now, though. But I regret not teaching those fools a very thorough, valuable lesson because I would rather not anger my lover."
V. LOHEN'S TROUBLES
"Ugh… Being a big target for so many bastards across Teyvat is such a pain in the ass. The Fatui, Abyss scum, rival knights, and even some of the nobles in Mondstadt probably want me dead. I could deal with all that shit easily. But what really pisses me off is knowing they might try to use them to get to me. One wrong move and some coward thinks they can grab them just to make me vulnerable… Hah. The mere thought makes my blood boil. If anyone even dares to lay a finger on them as leverage against me, I’ll turn their entire bloodline into a cautionary tale. I’ll slaughter anything that tries to use them… but damn, it’s annoying that they even have the option."
VI. COMBAT: LOW HP
"Heh… is this all you’ve got? Pathetic. I can’t die yet—Fuck! I still need to go home to them. Don’t you dare make me break my promise to them…!"
VII. JEALOUSY
"Saaayyy, Honorary Knight. Are my eyes deceiving me, or are you pretty cozy with my lover recently… They're awfully adorable, hmm? Bet you want to hug them, hold their hand, maybe even steal them away from me? Ahahaha! …If you ever try it, I'll carve out those wandering eyes of yours and make you watch as I string your guts into a pretty little necklace for them. Okay? Hehehe... Just kidding! Or am I? You'll understand, right, Honorary Knight?"
VIII. DEMANDING RESPECT
"I thought it'd be a fun exercise to teach my fellow knights some basic respect and manners, especially when around my lover. Whatever my lover wants, they get. Anyone whining their asses off about it can take it up with me personally. I'll give them something to cry about, that's for sure."
IX. OBEDIENCE
"What is that look on your face? You want me to deliver this paperwork to Varka? Pshhh, do it yourself… Wait, my lover actually asked you to relay the message to me? Well, in that case, hand over the documents. Ah, ah, ah! I really insist."
X. ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE
"You'd be surprised that my lover encourages me to do whatever I want. It's probably because they know that I'll do it anyway, but the fact that they actually tell me to go wild as long as I come home safe? Hahaha! Fuck, that’s hot. They really are perfect for me. Because of their encouragement, I’ll slaughter entire camps of hilichurls, paint the snow red in Dragonspine, or carve my way through a Fatui ambush, whatever feels good. Honestly, their blessing makes the violence feel like foreplay, just saying."
.lılılı.ıllı individual!stray kids x f!celebrity!reader ▹
،، genre ﹆ fluff includes ﹆ celebrity!reader (different for each) | whipped!skz | lovesick!skz | they’re idols but also down bad for you | awkward loser rizz | wholesomeness and supportive fans ﹕ ﹒ ⌕
⊹ ⌁ ˖ a/n ﹆ somewhat inspired by @mxnniemouse’s eyes only for you everyone go read that right now also i think i ruin my own standards every time i write one of these | also fun fact minho kept autocorrecting to mingi for some reason while i wrote his part
𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎? ︵ 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ▥ ▥ ▥
⭔ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⊹ ⌁ ⃕˖ in which there’s no bigger fan of your work than they are, something that became consistently and painfully obvious to the world.
b. chan ~ producer!reader
⇢ as one of the most celebrated producers in the industry, chan was no stranger to you or your achievements
⇢ seriously someone get this man some help because he turns into an absolute mess at the mere mention of you
⇢ once in an interview, he was asked which producer he’d like to have a dream collab with and he answered with your name so quickly before turning red and stumbling over his words
⇢ “i- well- uh i just mean she’s so talented y’know and she’s really competent and… and… she’s really cool-”
⇢ changbin might have to shove him before he ends up professing his love for you on live television biggest wingman to the rescue fr
⇢ guess what! then the company thought it’d be hilarious to actually arrange a surprise collab between you and 3racha shortly afterwards and they may need to keep a paramedic in the room because the instant you walk in, a polite smile and warm introduction chan is essentially being sent into a stroke
⇢ “hi! it’s so nice to get the chance to work with you all, i’ve really enjoyed your work-” (intense hyperventilating giggling)
⇢ acts like you’re the funniest person alive too he has no idea how to function around you someone help him (changbin has disassociated into hawaii while han is watching his leader fumble you like its the greatest show that’s ever aired)
⇢ watching you in your element has chan staring like someone chronically lovesick too, and he is hanging off your every word like it’s some divine decree
⇢ honestly, you’d heard of him before the collab too, and you found his hard work ethic endearing, not to mention it was pretty adorable how he seemed to short-circuit for a whole minute at every compliment
⇢ eventually you had casually asked him if he wanted to go to a nearby bbq place to celebrate the end of the collab, and after excusing himself to slam his head against the wall to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he tried (and failed) to nonchalantly accept your offer
⇢ “uh-huh, yeah, sure i think that’s alright, mhm, there’s no problem with that, yeah yeah yeah”
⇢ oops changbin and han mysterious cancelled (definitely not because chan paid them each off to screw off for the night), except now chan is actually realizing he’s alone with you on what could legally be considered… a date
⇢ by some miracle, he ends up walking you home, and then you slip your hand into his and chan genuinely needs to start manually reminding himself to breathe, so maybe you should reconsider your plan to kiss him goodbye (which you ended up doing, and he stands outside your front door frozen for like a whole hour until changbin shows up to drag him back to the dorms)
⇢ back at the dorm, chan is screaming into his pillow, kicking his feet, smiling so hard that it hurts, humming while going around the apartment and jeongin is so concerned about him
⇢ once you two start dating, chan loses all concept of a filter and will not shut up about you the very instant he gets the chance to discuss anything remotely related to you, to the point where talk shows and interviews literally have a policy that they’re not allowed to ask chan about you or he’ll start rambling on for the entire rest of the runtime and a few more minutes
⇢ you’re just in his thoughts 24/7 and he wouldn’t have it any other way, every moment he’s wondering what you’re doing, what you ate that day, where you might want to go on a date, whether you were working or not, and he has this goofy smile on his face that lets everybody know he’s thinking about you
⇢ he’s so so so in love with your mind and your hard work and you, he adores you more than anything else and he makes it very, very clear
l. minho ~ dancer!reader
⇢ swinging too far in the opposite direction where everyone thinks he’s your hater who has a strangely detailed knowledge of every single appearance you’ve ever made
⇢ “oh see this one twenty-second appearance she made on this one random fashion show three years and fifteen days ago? yeah i’ve never heard of it either psh i don’t know her at all”
⇢ he acts like he has zero interest in your achievements but then explain why he knows every single movement of your choreographies perfectly, hm?
⇢ at this point the fandom is genuinely like “you’re not fooling anyone bro dispatch has literally caught you at her performances every single time you cannot keep claiming you’re only there out of boredom you literally got the VIP front row seats”
⇢ he’s genuinely in denial about it up until one day, he is invited to help host a choreography camp for trainees with none other than, surprise surprise, you!
⇢ the instant he steps into the studio and sees you there, it’s like every rational thought flees his mind, and he shuts up so fast in fear of embarrassing himself
⇢ your fans had brought it to your attention that minho was one of your die-hard fans, so just maybe you thought it’d be fun to tease him during the duration of this camp
⇢ while minho’s stiff and talks in two-word answers max, his eyes follow you everywhere and he’s silently memorizing every move you make, someone help this poor man he has no idea what he’s doing, every time you talk to him he is leaping for joy in his brain like “!! she’s telling me about her day???” but the rbf goes hard
⇢ aaaand then one day, you mention casually in passing that you have one baby kitten at home, a little black one, and then minho immediately forgets his fake nonchalant idgafer and quite literally lights up like the sun
⇢ “what’s their name? how old are they? do you have any pictures?” (record breaking number of words he’s ever said to you in the span of a minute btw)
⇢ you’re delighted that he’s opening up, and you spend the next half hour of lunch gushing over your cats and then you lean in a little too close and minho’s entire body is being sent into emergency mode, face burning red and he’s frozen in place again
⇢ you ask him if he’d like to come over after that day’s training to see your cat, and he gives you a rigid nod, before standing up and rushing out and oh my god get this man some help he cannot function properly around you
⇢ he thought you were just being polite, so it almost had him melting on the spot when you caught him after practice, asking if he was ready to go
⇢ he’s so awkward at your house, complimenting your cooking, watching in awe as you coo at your cat, and he thinks his heart is actually going to explode seeing you act so… domestic in front of him, seriously, you should come with a warning label
⇢ over a dinner of pasta, he mentions briefly he knows a decent, fancy place downtown, and you brighten, saying that he should take you there sometimes congratulations lee minho you just accidentally asked out his dream girl on a date, most successful man ever fr
⇢ he gets much more comfortable teasing you once you actually start dating, but believe me, his voice is so full of love and adoration that it’s impossible to take it the wrong way
⇢ “here, i think this part of the choreography could change a bit, let me guide you, as a professional~” “lee minho bsfr you just want an excuse to have your hands on me”
⇢ while he’s much less filter-less than chan is, everyone can see how he gets tunnel vision whenever you step into the room, he sees you and only you
⇢ you’re everything he could’ve dreamed of in his eyes, and every day, minho feels so lucky you chose him out of everyone else
s. changbin ~ influencer!reader
⇢ so, so, so incredibly loud about his admiration for you and he will never shut up about it, he might genuinely be worse than chan about this
⇢ favorite recipe? one that you recommended. most recently watched video? you, obviously. a celebrity he’s been following recently? take a wild guess! it’s always going to be you
⇢ “are you craving any foods right now?” “ah, she posted this one video of her baking a pastry that looked really yummy i can’t stop thinking about it!” , with absolutely zero shame about it too
⇢ then one day, he spots you out at the park, clearly in disguise, headphones on and going on a run, and he’s genuinely fumbling so hard trying to decide what to do
⇢ he doesn’t want to appear like a parasocial fan or a stalker, wanting to respect your space which is definitely why he is hiding behind a tree right now
⇢ you, on the other hand, hear someone stumbling around behind you, and out of curiosity, you turn around to see seo changbin trying to conceal his entire frame and face behind a cherry blossom tree, which is very notably known for not being exceptionally good at hiding people
⇢ changbin thinks to himself that he could die happy and fulfilled when you greet him with a bright smile, asking what he’s doing and you’re so much more stunning up close and in person, he can barely form complete sentences
⇢ you recognize him as the idol that your comments were telling you about, the one who was a huge fan of your videos, he seems sweet and harmless so you can’t help but have your attention piqued after all
⇢ meanwhile, changbin is still standing there with the stupidest grin ever as you tell him about how you’d heard of him, and when you ask if he’d like to join you on your run, his jaw genuinely drops to the floor so fast
⇢ you want him? you, so bright and kind and mesmerizing, were inviting him on a run? (changbin forgetting he’s an internationally famous idol with numerous record-breaking achievements)
⇢ he accepts immediately, and you laugh, and changbin feels like he’s been hit with a truck because he was a die-hard fan before, but now he would move the earth and skies for you to hear you laugh again
⇢ as you two go around the park, changbin’s eyes never leave yours once, captivated by every word you say, and then you mention you watched one of his music show performances and compliment him, and seo changbin is so flustered he stumbles and trips, landing face-first into the pavement
⇢ panicking, you bend down to check on him, hand brushing over his cheek and gently dusting the dirt off the scrape on his elbow and please stop you’re going to send this man into cardiac arrest like this (not that he’d mind going out like this)
⇢ ignoring his panicked insistence that he was alright, you dragged him all the way back to your nearby apartment, demanding he rest on the couch while you went to get bandages and disinfectant for the scrapes
⇢ “does it hurt a lot? do you need anything?” “maybe you could kiss it better?”
⇢ in his defense he’s delirious from your presence and the fact you were taking care of him so he’s pretty much unable to think reasonably and the moment the words leave his mouth, he is turning a brighter shade of red than the scrapes, stammering and scampering away to the other end of the couch
⇢ you stare for a few moments and he thinks to himself he’s about to lose all the dignity he has left, before he hears you laugh again, band-aid shaking in his hand
⇢ “why don’t you take me out to dinner first?” great job you broke changbin now stray kids is down a producer and rapper; now it’s his turn to freeze and stare until he’s literally shouting and stumbling over his words in confusion, staring at you in disbelief
⇢ eventually you manage to calm him down through your own shaking laughter, and changbin’s heart feels like its punching him in the throat as he tries to process what you said, slack-jawed
⇢ unsurprisingly gets a hundred times more insufferable upon dating, he’s clinging off you every second and looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky
⇢ the first to like, share, comment on everything you post, shoving it in people’s faces to the point where every fan can probably get more updates on changbin through your channel rather than, y’know, his actual account
⇢ he adores you more than anything else, and he still can’t believe he’s the one making you laugh every day
h. hyunjin ~ actress!reader
⇢ actually did not know you initially until you were invited to be the mc for one of the music shows he was on, and my guy fell HARD during the interview
⇢ he was immediately ensnared by the way you held yourself, the way your eyes sparkled whenever you smiled, the way roses seemed to bloom behind you whenever you looked at him-
⇢ the moment he got back to the dorms, he googled you and spent the whole weekend binging every one of your shows, watching with the intensity of someone who was getting paid by the minute
⇢ constantly starts quoting your shows and performances, and he acts like it’s the greatest offense whenever someone doesn’t know what he’s quoting
⇢ goes on an unskippable cutscene of a tangent about the artistry of your acting, the composition and your talent, has very likely forced the other members to sit through a marathon of your works
⇢ its not like the other members don’t like your shows, its just hyunjin will not shut up at all while the show is playing, commenting a detailed analysis, how you expressed the character through subtle mannerisms, how your tone of voice shifted, someone save them (all this and he still didn’t have the courage to reach out to you)
⇢ then one day, stray kids is asked to perform an ost for one of your upcoming movies, allowing them to watch the filming, and hyunjin nearly screams because hello?? exclusive behind-the-scenes access?? watching you work your magic live in front of him?? getting to see you again??
⇢ by the time they arrive at the studio, chan is shaking hands with the director and thanking him for the opportunity with one hand while the other is gripping hyunjin’s sleeve as he spins around, trying to spot a single glance of you
⇢ and then he sees you sitting in a chair behind the cameras, reading through your script while chewing on your pencil and hyunjin is completely, 100% gone for you
⇢ the director brings them over to you, introducing you to them and you smile, and hyunjin can’t tear his eyes from you, turning a violent shade of red when seungmin teasingly mentions that hyunjin’s a fan of your work
⇢ your eyes brighten, and hyunjin’s pulse spikes up to five hundred when you excitedly stand up to take his hand, asking if he’d like to take a walk around the studio to get some advice from him
⇢ hyunjin is stammering, unable to formulate a coherent response as chan accepts your offer for him, grinning as he shoves hyunjin off while you grin
⇢ he’s hanging off every word you say as you talk about one of the creative conflicts you had with another lead, something about how you felt your character was unfulfilling in the ending and that the world development was shaky, however if you want a comprehensible reply you might have to stop holding his hand because his brain is being fried from your touch
⇢ you did let go of his hand shortly afterwards, and while that reminded him that he needed to breathe he was also devastated at the loss
⇢ to his disbelief, you actually seemed to like his advice, and continued looking for him, whether to ask for more suggestions or just to talk about your shows
⇢ one day, behind-the-scenes passes were given out to fans, and one of them live-streamed the whole thing, only to catch hyunjin and you walking around, with you smiling as you talked about something while hyunjin was completely entranced by you, nodding along seriously and tripping over a director’s chair because he was too focused on you
⇢ all the comments are calling him a down bad loser btw but they’re not exactly wrong either
⇢ he’s devastated when filming ends a few months later, sobbing into his pillow like a distraught teenage girl until changbin pokes him, saying he has a text from you
⇢ never seen a man come back to life so fast because he shoots up like lightning at the mention of your name, jaw dropping when he sees the text inviting him to a private watch party of the movie’s premiere at your place as a thanks for all his help
⇢ so proud of the fact he’s the only member you invited, until the realization hits that he’s going to be alone with you. at your place, and then its back to crashing out in his pillow
⇢ you greeted him at the door in an oversized sweater and fluffy slippers and he’s starting to think maybe he hit his head too hard and he’s hallucinating all of this now but he runs into the wall because he can’t take his eyes off you while you lead him to the theatre
⇢ when you ask him out, his jaw has dropped and he is staring at you so hard, blinking in pure surprise and he’s essentially the shocked pikachu face
⇢ another one who gets worse after you two start dating, constantly has your shows and movies playing in the background in the dorm, constantly showing off sketches and paintings he’s made of you when he goes live
⇢ you mean everything to him, and he couldn’t imagine a life without you and your light, he’s always going to be in your corner
h. jisung ~ idol!reader
⇢ if you search up “subtle” in the dictionary, han jisung’s picture will be there in every edition listed right under ‘antonyms’
⇢ the instant he saw you go up on stage before him on the music show, winning over the crowd with your presence, he knew he was done for
⇢ afterwards, as all the idols were heading home, you had briefly gotten separated from your group and bumped into jisung, giving him a sparkling smile, and he felt his entire body melt as he was completely transfixed by you
⇢ my guy is already writing love songs and proposals in his head when you walk back to the venue with him, a nervous grin on his face and i fully believe he will be cracking the worst dad jokes and puns ever when he is nervous, before getting mortified and laughing like a maniac
⇢ when you two go your separate ways, he is still frozen like a deer in headlights, and the moment he gets home, he is scrambling for his laptop (minho is side-eyeing him so hard), flipping it open and scrolling through your bios, fanpages, instagram, discography
⇢ he has every lyric of your music memorized, and has been caught singing it in the background of skz-codes and lives more often than not
⇢ my guy probably created his own fanpage just for you honestly, mind you he has spoken about four words to you total and you already have this man so incredibly down bad
⇢ one day, weeks after your first meeting, he bumps into you at the entrance of one of the rehearsal rooms and stares at you for a solid five seconds as you awkwardly smile and wave before straight up taking off on a run in the opposite direction
⇢ why were you here? how did you look even more beautiful than you did that first day? was he missing you so badly he started hallucinating?
⇢ eventually, he peeks out from the hallway to see you still standing there, looking right at him with a somewhat amused grin, head tilted in confusion and he feels stars explode in his chest
⇢ it turns out you were meeting up with some of your friends in girl groups at jyp, and you were exploring while waiting for their rehearsal to finish (it’s also somewhat possible you were looking for a certain awkward loser with cute round cheeks but you’d never reveal that)
⇢ “fancy running into you again! i’m taking a look around, could you give me a tour if you’re not busy?” “YES. I mean, no, I’m not busy, i mean, tour yeah mhm, i mean you probably know better, wait you don’t work here, ahahahaha are you single” “what?”
⇢ you give him your number after the tour (which simply comprised of him showing you the elevator and proceeding to panic and explain to you what an elevator was before tripping down the stairs) and he feels like he’s floating in mid-air
⇢ seriously get him some help. he immediately becomes a concussion risk when you’re within five feet of him, or when he’s watching your performances on his phone, or when he’s thinking about you, which is always because you never leave his mind
⇢ you invite him to karaoke one day, and he shows up an hour early before panicking once again and you catch him in the middle of calling minho begging for help
⇢ “HYUNG HELP ME I CAN’T DO THIS SHE’S GOING TO THINK I’M A LOSER WHO CAN’T EVEN SING WHAT IF I EMBARRASS MYSELF IN FRONT OF HER??” “uhm… hi! did you get here early?” “SHIT I MANIFESTED IT”
⇢ he laughs way too much at everything you say, and he’s also another one that forgets he‘s one of the most talented aces of 4th gen kpop because he’s excitedly clapping and cheering before you even start singing
⇢ #1 hype man fr though, he genuinely gets so excited at everything you do no matter how small it is
⇢ after you two start dating, it becomes so much more obvious how whipped he is for you, seriously every backstage video of any music show he’s at where he knows you’re going to be, it’s just him looking around for you and asking staff if they’ve seen you, if you’re doing alright
⇢ front row VIP tickets in the trenches at all of your domestic concerts too, it gets to the point where, when he gets caught dancing along to your music at the performance, everyone’s just like “yeah that’s not surprising”
⇢ you’re his star and he’ll always support you in every way, he’s so in love with every little thing about you
l. felix ~ gamer!reader
⇢ he first saw you play at an e-game tournament that he was invited to for sponsorships, standing absolutely zero chance against you
⇢ he fell in love with your determination, the little pout when you were focused, and the breathless cheer when you won the round
⇢ from that day on, lee felix has never stopped talking about you, looking for every excuse to run into you at events, talking about how talented you were in his lives, and he just so happens to coincidentally start playing every game that you try out on your channel
⇢ it gets to a point where STAYs joke that you should give him lessons on gaming, and then apparently a game caterer thought that was a brilliant idea because ohmygoshwhywereyouthere on the set chatting to one of the producers of the show he had been invited onto? why did you catch his gaze and smile? why were you walking over to him? felix’s heart is genuinely not strong enough for this
⇢ “so, you’re the famous lee felix, still stuck at bronze, huh?” and he’s blushing maddeningly red, nervously chuckling he’s so awkward someone save him from himself
⇢ his heart is beating a mile a minute as you talk, unable to stop the goofy smile that’s stretching at his lips
⇢ while the concept of the episode is just a simple gaming competition, seeing who can win more challenges, felix is genuinely so enamored by every sound of your laugh of victory, every scrunch of your nose when you’re focused, he loses quite literally every game except for rock paper scissors
⇢ when both of you team up in a multiplayer pvp game and win, your energies match perfectly, both of you jumping up and cheering, high-fiving each other
⇢ he stares at that hand when he’s back at the dorm, heart pounding and still blushing at the memory
⇢ finally, the first and only one to gather the courage to ask you if you want to come over to game, and you reply almost instantly and why is he giggling like he’s lovesick- ohhhh
⇢ that weekend, both of you play a sandbox game together, building houses and gardens for hours while laughing about the most pointless stuff
⇢ a short while later, felix notices you on live, showing off the town both of you built, and he spends the next twenty minutes giggling hysterically into his pillow, swinging his legs to the point where seungmin looks like he wants to ask for a new roommate
⇢ will not stop bragging about it either, excitedly dragging said seungmin into his room to show him all the things you built, the color schemes, will not stop gushing about it either
⇢ you two become attached at the hip, always appearing in each other’s lives even before dating, until felix finally gathers the courage to show up at your door with flowers bigger than his head, barely able to get the words out as you laugh and agree to be his girlfriend
⇢ now that he has even more incentive to be yapping about you 24/7, he is literally never going to shut up ever again
⇢ has started lives on more than one occasion just to talk about you and how it’s going between the two of you, with all the comments calling him out for being down bad and he just agrees with them with the stupidest grin
⇢ epitome of “you’re doing great sweetie” because while you crash out at laggy wifi or garbage teammates or complain about trashy game updates he’s just nodding along on the bed, staring at you wide-eyed, nodding along and finding you adorable
⇢ sighs dreamily when talking about you too by the way and he has, on more than one occasion, been caught watching your gaming lives backstage
⇢ he’s your number one cheerleader and he’s always got your back, no matter what, you’re the only one in his eyes
k. seungmin ~ soloist!reader
⇢ in all honesty, seungmin wasn’t aware he was a fan of you either
⇢ legitimately and unironically said that he admired your ‘approach to music’ and watched every single one of your music videos multiple times to use as ‘reference’ for his own vocal performances
⇢ he was once caught at one of your music show performances watching you with such laser-focus, studying your every move and the slightest smile tugging at the corners of his lips
⇢ nonetheless my guy will admit to nothing (he thinks there’s really nothing to admit too), claiming he’s just recognizing talent when he sees it
⇢ “i just think she’s very adept at what she does, there’s nothing more to it” “okay and explain why she was your top artist this year and you have her photocards hidden in that book?”
⇢ accidentally blurted out your name when at a meeting discussing who they should collab with next and immediately regretted it when every single member swiveled around to give him the biggest shit eating grin
⇢ unfortunately, the managers loved the idea and there seungmin was, sitting on the studio floor watching you talk to the rest of the members
⇢ every time someone asks a question about you or your career, he immediately pipes up with an answer before you can, before turning red and playing it off like it’s basic knowledge he knows your entire discography
⇢ then han, just to goad seungmin, asks you if you have a bias in stray kids and when you answer with seungmin, glancing at him with a shy smile, seungmin swears it’s like his entire world is tipping over, like he’s been shot by an arrow
⇢ seriously, he thinks you’re a health hazard to him or something, there’s no way this can be good for his blood pressure
⇢ quite literally covering the bottom half of his face with his hand, declaring that they should be getting to the recording booth
⇢ still, when it’s your turn to record, he’s so enchanted by you and the emotion you deliver in your voice, kim seungmin is staring at you with wonder in his eyes (the boys are going to have a field day with this btw but he’s somehow forgotten about them when he’s looking at you)
⇢ you frown at yourself when the piece doesn’t come out the way you want it to, and seungmin without being prompted says that it sounds perfect
⇢ both of you fall into blushing messes, and chan can’t tell whether he’s proud of seungmin for realizing his feelings or if he wants to throw him out of the studio for being a distraction
⇢ you praise him when he’s recording his part and he can’t help the oh-so-soft smile that takes over his face, a smile that makes his face hurt because this is really weird he’s never smiled like this at anyone or anything ever before, what have you done to him?
⇢ still one that would never confess first however, so he has to be tricked into it by the others when they ask seungmin to take over the final recording session with you since they all have plans
⇢ in the studio, seungmin is awkwardly staring at the wall, fearing that he’s going to be infected by that stupid smile and blush if he looks at you again
⇢ still, all’s well that ends well, because despite his poker face when you asked him if he’d like to hang out more after the collab, he was practically grinning and punching the air in his head
⇢ “we should keep in touch after this?” “mm, sure, yeah.” (HELL YES HELL YES HELL YES HELL YES HELL YES-)
⇢ after dating, he’s still constantly singing your praises, and he’ll act grumpy towards everyone else but there are almost thousands of videos of the way he physically softens when you’re even mentioned
⇢ once on live with felix, they were listening to music while cooking and one of your songs came on, with seungmin quite literally brightening, as he started talking about how you were performing that very song a few days later and how it won a lot of awards, before he stopped and glared at felix, asking why he had YOUR song on his playlist
⇢ “why are you listening to my girlfriend’s music >:(” “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO THREATENED ME TO STREAM HER MUSIC???” (so proud of namedropping you as his girlfriend too btw)
⇢ selfishly wants to gatekeep your music but also such a huge fan that he wants to tell everyone about you, it’s a hard line to balance you can’t really blame him
⇢ he always has tunnel vision for you, and yeah, he’s pretty okay with that because it’s you
y. jeongin ~ vlogger!reader
⇢ he first ran into you while he was filming his own skz-vlog, quite literally colliding into you on the sidewalk
⇢ you had easily brushed off his profuse apologies, offering to give him a tour of the city and all the best local delicacies, and when he saw your excited smile, he found himself accepting your offer with a dopey grin
⇢ later found your channel and watched the entire vlog, cringing at the way he was staring at you the whole time and hoping that the viewers hadn’t noticed (they definitely did),
⇢ accidentally likes one of your posts from months ago and then internally screams for a whole hour, throwing his phone across the room
⇢ of course, you wouldn’t have noticed since you did get consistent likes daily, but the check mark of a verified account caught your attention
⇢ afterwards, both your viewers and STAY quickly caught on during a live that jeongin was telling the other members about places he had seen you go to in your vlogs, quickly covering up by saying “it looked good online”
⇢ “iyen how did you find this hole-in-the-wall ramen place?” “ah it looked good online” “IT HAS ZERO YELP REVIEWS AND ITS NOT A LOCATION ON GOOGLE MAPS HOW DID YOU FIND IT”
⇢ he deeply admires your sense of adventure and curiosity, writing down every place you’ve mentioned is good in his notes app as somewhere to visit later (he’s definitely not hoping he’ll run into you at one of those places, that’d be crazy, psh, no way)
⇢ however, since your last vlog with him was pretty popular, you reached out and asked if he wanted to film another one together, and after staring at the message and smiling like an idiot to himself for an hour, he quickly agreed, trying to sound formal and not like he was over the moon at your offer
⇢ the next day, he had begged chan to clear out his schedules and rehearsals for the day, and chan had agreed (possibly out of pity), only for jeongin to end up staring at his closet because he had no idea what to wear
⇢ he’s panicking and almost having a fashion meltdown, clothes are thrown everywhere in his room as he tries to find the perfect outfit
⇢ my guy literally considered wearing a suit and tie just to impress you before remembering that it was the middle of summer
⇢ and when you ended up complimenting his outfit when you met up at a cafe, he’s turning so, so, so red, so quickly, mumbling out a thanks
⇢ as you two explore the city, you find it adorable how he’s trailing along behind you, the way he listens to you explain the history of different buildings so intently, how he kept one hand hovering over your back in the crowds on the street, how red he turns every time you nudge your shoulder against his
⇢ at the end of the day, jeongin is mentally applauding himself for surviving and not exploding around you, ready to go back to the dorm, flop onto his bed and stare at the ceiling burning the entire day into his memory when you hit the final nail in the coffin and ask if he’d like to hang out again sometime, without the camera
⇢ if this were a cartoon his head would probably have steam shooting out and his face would be turning into a tomato because??? is that not just a date??? are you asking him on a date???
⇢ “uhm yeah sure that’d be alright haha sounds good haha not a problem not a problem” and then he gives you two thumbs ups with a nervous smile, then goes home to slam his head into the pillow
⇢ the worst compliment taker too i fear, after that you start mentioning him as your ‘boyfriend’ in your vlogs like “oh my boyfriend liked this place” and it sends him into cardiac arrest, he cannot stop smiling you’re going to need to surgically stop him before he breaks his dimples
⇢ acts like your opinion is law by the way, whenever the eight of them go anywhere he’s like “tsk she said this place had a rude waiter” or “oooh she really liked the cakes at that place” to a degree where it is clinically driving the others insane and they WILL complain about it on their own lives
⇢ “guys today we tried going to a bakery and innie refused to go because his GIRLFRIEND said that they use lots of chemicals in their pastries” “hehe my girlfriend :D” they love and support you and jeongin so much but they are also so tempted to commit violence against their maknae at this point
⇢ case in point, jeongin values you so, so much, and every day he keeps falling deeper in love with you
please do not translate or repost my works without credit to here or any other website! (this blog does not use ai and is an ai-free zone, so please do not feed anything here to ai, much appreciated!) ୧
The creative writing is immaculate. 10/10 would read again. This is the best thing I've ever read, omfg, wth?!?!! THIS IS WHY I LOVE MY FYP. Please go support the post and follow the account, bc this is INCREDIBLE WORK.
synopsis/request: when jisung forgets your birthday and pushes you away during a moment of vulnerability, silent tension fills the days that follow. as he scrambles to make amends, he realizes the real damage wasn't forgetting the date, but making you feel like a burden.
The rain had been falling all day. A slow, steady rhythm tapping against the windows, so soft it could almost be soothing, if not for the storm quietly brewing inside you.
The week had been uneventful in most ways. Jisung had been more or less locked in his little creative bubble, something you'd always admired about him. He could get consumed by music, swallowed whole by a single lyric he couldn't quite get right, or a melody that refused to sit still. You loved that about him. Loved the way his eyes got glassy and far away when his brain started spinning faster than he could talk.
But lately, it wasn’t just that.
He’d been distant. Not unkind. Just… elsewhere. Every conversation felt like you were knocking on a door he no longer heard you through.
You chalked it up to work, because it was work. He’d been spending long hours writing, recording, tweaking things late into the night, and barely looking up from his laptop when you came in. You were used to it, in a way. This was Jisung. He went hard when inspiration struck. He burned hot, fast, and completely.
Still, it stung in a way you didn’t want to admit.
Especially with your birthday just a few days away.
You hadn’t said anything about it. You’d made a quiet decision not to bring it up. Part of you thought it would be sweet if he remembered on his own, if he had something planned, something thoughtful, even small. Jisung wasn’t extravagant. He didn’t do grand gestures. But he knew you. He always knew you.
So you waited.
And waited.
Each day passed without a mention. No little comments. No suspicious texts. No asking if you were free. Just his head down, pen scratching across paper, headphones on, a world away.
But today, Tuesday, you couldn’t take the silence anymore. You weren’t going to outright ask him if he remembered. That would be pathetic, you thought. That would make it worse if he didn’t. But you could be subtle. Casual. Just ask if he had Friday off. Plant the seed. Give him a chance.
It was late afternoon when you walked into his studio. You could hear the low hum of a beat looping in the background, his fingers moving fast over his keyboard, pausing every so often to scribble something into his notebook. His back was to you, hunched slightly, hoodie pulled up over his head.
He didn’t hear you come in.
You walked over quietly, wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek lightly against his shoulder blade. He stiffened slightly at the sudden contact, but didn’t pull away.
Yet.
"Hey, baby," you said softly, your voice almost lost in the music. "Do you have Friday off?"
You didn’t mention why. You didn’t want it to sound like a trap.
He didn’t turn around. Just shrugged, his fingers still moving.
"I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve got a lot going on right now."
You blinked. Pulled back a little. That was it? No follow-up? No “why do you ask?” Not even curiosity?
You bit your lip and tried again, stepping around him this time so you were facing him. He looked tired, eyes slightly puffy from staring at the screen too long. You leaned down, gently trying to kiss his cheek, but he shifted just as you did, and your lips landed awkwardly at the corner of his jaw.
You let it slide. Forced a smile.
"Really no plans this weekend? Not even a day off?"
He finally looked up. Annoyed. The kind of look you’d only seen when he was dealing with customer service or slow Wi-Fi.
"Can you not right now?" he snapped, rubbing his temple. "I’m in the middle of something."
You blinked. Stunned for a second.
"I was just asking—"
"Yeah, and I said I don’t know." He exhaled hard, clearly irritated. "Why are you pressing me about this? I’m busy."
That one landed like a slap. You took a step back, arms folding tightly over your chest. You felt like you were shrinking.
"Sorry for bothering you," you said coldly, the tightness in your throat giving you away. "God forbid I ask my boyfriend a simple question."
You turned before he could say anything else, before the anger on your face melted into something worse. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want him to know.
The door slammed behind you harder than you intended. The echo rang down the hallway like a warning bell.
You stood there, frozen, in the hallway. Alone.
And that's when it hit you.
He’d forgotten.
He really, truly had forgotten.
Your birthday was in three days.
And Jisung, the boy who once remembered the exact day you first cried in front of him, the boy who had surprised you with ramen at 1AM because you offhandedly said you missed home, had forgotten.
Your chest burned.
You didn’t cry right away. You refused to. Crying meant giving it weight. It meant making it real. And maybe, maybe this was still salvageable. Maybe he’d realize. Maybe this was just a bad moment, a bad hour.
But the more you thought about it, the more the silence over the past week screamed in your ears.
Not one hint. Not one look. Nothing.
-
The house was quieter than usual, but not in a peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that felt like tension stretched too thin. The kind of silence that made the air feel heavier.
You’d noticed it growing for a while now, the slow fade of warmth, like a candle burning down to its last inch of wick. Jisung had been lost in his work lately, immersed in melodies and metaphors, his mind trapped in the small studio tucked at the end of the hall.
He’d always done this. You knew his process. He dove headfirst into his music, sometimes forgetting meals, forgetting sleep. You’d loved him for that. For how deeply he loved creating. For how earnestly he got caught up in the things that mattered to him.
But this time… something was different.
This time, you felt like a stranger to him while he buried himself in lyrics.
And it hurt more than you wanted to admit.
Your birthday was in just a few days.
That tiny fact sat in the back of your mind like a needle under the skin. Small. Sharp. Unshakable.
You didn’t need much. You weren’t the type to demand gifts or parties or posts with long, poetic captions. What you wanted, what you hoped for was that he’d remember. That he’d do something meaningful, something that showed he still saw you.
You had convinced yourself that he did.
Even after the way he snapped earlier that day, the way he brushed you off when you asked if he had Friday free, you still gave him the benefit of the doubt.
You had to. Because if he had forgotten, if he truly wasn’t planning anything… then what did that say about the two of you? About how far you’d drifted without realizing it?
That evening, the house remained mostly silent.
You moved around the bedroom without saying much, folding laundry you didn’t have the energy to care about, rechecking a calendar you’d already memorized. You hadn’t seen him much since the argument. He stayed locked away in his studio, headphones on, music leaking faintly through the door like a barrier between you.
You had hoped stupidly, maybe that he’d come out and say something. Apologize, even a little. Ask what was wrong. Notice that you’d been quiet too. That you didn’t eat dinner. That you didn’t sit on the couch like usual waiting for him to finish work.
But none of that happened.
It was nearly midnight when he finally came into the room. You were already in bed, the blanket pulled up to your chest, your body curled to one side, eyes closed. You weren’t asleep, not even close.
He moved quietly, but you heard every step. The rustle of his hoodie dropping to the floor. The faint creak of the mattress as he slipped in beside you.
You waited.
Your heart thudded.
Then, slowly, you inched toward him.
You didn’t say anything. You didn’t push your luck with words this time. You just slid closer and gently wrapped your arm around his waist, your face nestling near his shoulder. A quiet attempt at truce. A silent please let’s forget the fight.
But before you could even settle into the comfort you craved, he flinched.
And then he sighed. Loudly.
“Seriously?”
The word hit you like a slap.
Your body stilled. “...What?”
“When I’m working, I really need you to not be all over me,” he said, voice flat, frustrated. “It throws me off. I was just about to write something important earlier and you came in, touching me, kissing me and I completely lost the line I had in my head.”
You pulled back slowly, staring at him in the dim lighting. His profile was hard. Tired. Detached.
You blinked once. Twice. Trying to process what he’d just said.
“I distracted you…?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted.
He didn’t answer right away. Just let out another sigh and turned his back to you.
“I just… I’d appreciate it if you could give me space when I’m in work mode. That’s all.”
You didn’t speak.
You couldn’t.
You lay there, staring at the back of his head, the curve of his shoulder rising and falling slowly with each breath.
There was something hollow in your chest. A yawning emptiness where warmth used to live.
All day, you had been convincing yourself that this was just stress. That he was just overwhelmed. That he didn’t mean to be cold or distant. That it wasn’t personal.
But this, this wasn’t just stress.
This was dismissal.
And that, somehow, hurt more than him forgetting your birthday.
Because this wasn’t about one day.
This was about being made to feel like you were in the way. Like your affection was an inconvenience. Like loving him gently, quietly, earnestly was a problem.
You blinked away the heat in your eyes and rolled onto your other side, facing the wall.
You didn’t say goodnight. You didn’t touch him again. You didn’t cry.
Not yet.
Lying there in the dark, you played the moment over and over in your head.
You weren’t sure what stung more: That he hadn’t tried to fix the argument. That he’d called your love distracting. Or that he didn’t even realize he’d hurt you.
You thought about how he used to pull you into bed and kiss you like he couldn’t wait to tell you everything he’d written. You thought about the nights when he would bring his lyric notebook to the couch just to be next to you. You thought about the quiet way he used to hold your hand while working, like even in silence, he wanted to be tethered to you.
Now… you were a distraction. And worse, someone who made you feel too much for wanting to be close.
You clutched the edge of the blanket and closed your eyes.
You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to give it that power.
But the tears came anyway silent and slow, soaking into your pillow like an open secret.
In that moment, you realized something heartbreaking:
It wasn’t that he forgot your birthday.
It was that, lately, he’d forgotten you.
-
You woke up the next morning feeling like you hadn't slept at all.
Your eyes were sore, your body heavy from the weight of unshed words and smothered cries. There was a dull ache behind your ribs that hadn’t gone away since last night, since he turned away from you after telling you that your love was distracting. Since you’d reached out for comfort and got a complaint instead.
You lay still in bed, watching the gray morning light bleed into the room. You could hear him moving around in the kitchen, opening cabinets, the quiet shuffle of his slippers on the hardwood floor. The clink of a mug. A spoon against a bowl.
Your heart didn’t race. It slowed. Because nothing felt worse than knowing he was acting like everything was fine.
And it was then that the decision made itself: You wouldn’t say a word. Not out of pettiness. Not out of spite. But because you had said enough. And he had heard nothing.
Let him feel the silence he gave you. Let him hear it this time.
You walked into the kitchen wrapped in a hoodie, your face blank, your mouth a hard line. He was standing by the stove, eating cereal straight out of the bowl, scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up briefly.
"Morning," he said, like nothing had happened.
You nodded once, tight, and opened the fridge. You could feel his eyes linger on you for a second too long like he was waiting for you to say more. But when you didn’t, he just turned back to his screen.
You didn’t speak. Didn’t ask about his schedule. Didn’t try to sit close.
You took your yogurt and left the kitchen, eating alone in the living room with the TV off and your thoughts screaming.
The silence grew louder as the hours passed.
He didn’t notice it at first. You were usually quiet in the mornings anyway. He probably assumed you'd snap out of it, give him a kiss on the cheek, ask how the lyrics were going, sit beside him with your head on his shoulder.
But you didn’t.
And by mid-afternoon, it had become clear that this wasn’t just a quiet morning.
You walked past him in the hallway when he emerged for coffee. He smiled faintly and said, “I think I figured out that chorus.” You gave a nod that didn’t reach your eyes. No follow-up. You didn’t even glance at him.
He paused. Just for a second. And then kept walking.
By evening, you heard the subtle tone in his voice shift. A flicker of unease.
He called from the kitchen, “Hey… you want me to make pasta or something?”
You didn’t respond.
“...Y/N?” he tried again.
You were in the bedroom, folding the same shirt over and over just to keep your hands busy, your mind distracted.
He peeked into the room, holding the bag of pasta in his hand. You didn’t look at him.
“I’m making something to eat,” he said slowly, carefully. “Do you want any?”
Still, you said nothing. You didn’t even shrug.
He exhaled sharply, clearly irritated now. “Okay. I’ll just leave you alone then.”
And he did.
The rest of the day passed the same way. Cold. Wordless. Wide.
You were in the same rooms but worlds apart. He started watching you more carefully. Furtively. He asked small things throughout the day "Did you do the laundry already?" or "Hey, have you seen my hoodie?" Each question met with nothing but the silence you were buried in.
You saw confusion start to shift in his face. His brows furrowed. His shoulders pulled taut. He’d ask something, and when you didn’t answer, his eyes would narrow slightly like he was starting to notice that something was wrong but still couldn’t connect the dots.
And that hurt more than anything.
Because to you, the answer was obvious. You were bleeding right in front of him, and he was asking why the floor looked red.
You were brushing your teeth late that night when he leaned on the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed.
"Are you gonna stay mad forever?"
You blinked once and spat the toothpaste into the sink, wiped your mouth without answering.
He waited.
"I seriously don’t know what I did," he said, his voice cracking a little with frustration. "If you’re not gonna tell me, how am I supposed to fix it?"
You turned off the bathroom light and walked past him.
The door didn’t slam this time. It clicked shut, soft and final.
By the time Thursday night arrived, he looked exhausted. You couldn’t tell if it was from the studio or from trying to figure out what had changed. Probably both.
You sat on the couch with your arms crossed, the TV playing something you weren’t even watching.
He stood in the doorway for a while, watching you with an unreadable expression.
Then finally, he said it. “I’m gonna go to the practice room for a bit.”
You didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.
“Maybe you just need space or something,” he muttered. “I don’t know. I don’t want to keep bothering you.”
You bit your lip so hard it nearly bled.
Space?
That’s what he thought this was about?
He thought you were ignoring him because you needed air? Not because he’d forgotten the one day you were silently hoping he’d remember? Not because he’d made you feel like loving him was a chore? Like your affection was an obstacle?
You blinked at the screen, your eyes glassy. The show kept playing. You didn’t even know what episode you were on.
He waited a moment longer.
Then the door shut.
And suddenly you were alone. Again.
The tears finally came, thick and hot, as soon as his footsteps faded. They weren’t quiet this time. You choked on them, the kind that made your chest heave and your throat close. Your hands shook.
Because you were tired.
Tired of giving the benefit of the doubt. Tired of excuses. Tired of being too scared to say it’s my birthday tomorrow and you’ve done nothing. Tired of hoping he would see you, without you having to beg for it.
How could he not know?
How could he be so oblivious?
And still… you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.
Because wasn’t that the whole point?
You wanted to be chosen. Not reminded.
You wanted him to remember, not be told.
And tomorrow…
Tomorrow, when you woke up…
It would be your birthday.
And you had no idea if he would know it.
The practice room lights were dim, buzzing faintly overhead like the last nerve in Jisung’s mind, frayed and twitching. He stepped inside without much thought, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, and let out a breath that seemed to deflate his whole body. His legs gave out near the far wall, slumping down onto the cold wooden floor beside Hyunjin, who looked like he’d just finished drowning in sweat and choreography.
Jeongin was sitting criss-cross at the center of the room, stretching lazily with one earbud still dangling from his hoodie. Felix lay flat on his back beside him, chest heaving with tired breaths, while Minho scrolled through his phone like he hadn’t just danced for two hours straight.
The energy in the room was comfortable. Familiar. But the second Jisung sat down, it shifted.
Hyunjin glanced at him sideways. “What are you doing here?”
Felix sat up halfway, his brow scrunched. “Don’t you usually spend your days off with Y/N?”
“Wait—yeah,” Jeongin chimed in, tossing his head back. “Isn’t this, like, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing for you to be here on a day off?”
Jisung didn’t respond at first.
He exhaled hard and let his head fall back against the mirror. “She’s not talking to me.”
That caught their attention.
“What?” Hyunjin blinked.
“Like... ignoring you ignoring you?” Felix asked, scooting closer.
“Yeah. Since yesterday. Full-on silent treatment. Not even a shrug. Just—blank face. No words.” Jisung pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “And I swear to God it’s driving me insane.”
“Damn,” Jeongin muttered under his breath.
Minho looked up from his phone. “Did you do something?”
Jisung shook his head instantly. “No! I mean—I don’t think so? I don’t know.”
Jeongin snorted. “That’s not convincing.”
“I didn’t, though!” he snapped. “Like—okay, yeah, maybe I was kind of short with her the other night, but I was working. She came into the studio while I was trying to get this chorus down and I got frustrated, that’s all. I didn’t say anything bad.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“She tried talking to me a couple times that day and I just—I asked for space. I was in the zone.” Jisung rubbed his temples, groaning. “She knows how I get when I’m writing. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“And then she just stopped talking to you?” Hyunjin asked, skeptical.
“Yeah. Didn’t even respond when I asked what she wanted for dinner. Hasn’t said a single word in two days. Like, is that normal?”
Felix frowned. “Sounds like she’s hurt.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t get why,” Jisung said, his voice raising without him meaning to. “I didn’t yell at her, I didn’t say anything cruel, I just... I was working! I asked for space!”
Jeongin gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Okay, but did you look at her?”
Jisung paused. “What?”
“I mean... when she came to see you, when she tried talking to you—did you actually look at her? Like—her face? Her energy? The way she was holding herself?”
Jisung frowned, caught off guard. “I mean... not really? I was focused.”
Felix leaned forward, soft but serious. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
Silence fell for a moment. The kind that starts to crawl into your chest when people say things you aren’t ready to hear.
“You probably said something you didn’t even notice,” Hyunjin said, wiping his forehead with a towel. “You do that when you’re in work mode. You push people away without meaning to.”
“I was just trying to finish my song,” Jisung muttered. But even he could hear the defensiveness in his voice.
Minho finally chimed in. “Then maybe ask yourself what’s more important—your music, or the way you treat the person who’s always there supporting it.”
The words hit harder than Jisung expected. They weren’t said harshly. Just plainly. Truthfully.
And they made his stomach twist.
He hated the idea that he had done something careless. That while he was focused on not forgetting a lyric, he might’ve forgotten her. Forgotten how hard she tried to love him even when he was too preoccupied to notice.
Jisung leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands knotted together tightly.
“She looked so blank,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize how... quiet she really was. I thought she just needed space.”
Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe she was waiting for you to realize something.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
Jisung blinked down at the floor, the thought nagging at him like a weight on his back. He hated the way it made his chest feel tight. The way guilt started to form like smoke in his lungs.
And then..
Hyunjin, ever the emotional antenna in the room, turned to him with an almost casual question.
“So, anyway—what do you have planned for her birthday tomorrow?”
Jisung laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s not tomorrow. It’s next week or something. The—uh—the 11th, right?”
“Tomorrow is the 11th,” Jeongin deadpanned.
Jisung froze.
His hands went numb.
He instinctively pulled out his phone, thumbing the lock screen, eyes scanning the date like it had betrayed him.
Thursday, July 10th.
Tomorrow: Friday, July 11th.
His world tilted.
“No…” he breathed. “No way.”
Felix’s face fell as realization hit him too. “You didn’t…?”
Hyunjin stared at him in disbelief. “You forgot her birthday.”
“I—” Jisung's voice caught in his throat. “No—I didn’t—I just—I thought—shit—”
The words splintered into chaos. He dropped his phone. His mind was spinning.
It wasn’t just the date. It was everything. The way she came to him asking if he was free Friday. The way she tried to kiss him, twice. The way she’d softened into his side that night in bed, begging silently for him to hold her. The way she hadn’t said a word since.
The way she hadn’t cried. Not where he could see. But oh god, she had cried, hadn’t she?
He missed all of it.
He missed her.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
Minho stared at him, arms folded. “Now do you get it?”
“She was trying to see if I remembered,” Jisung muttered, like he was trying to convince himself the sky was blue. “She didn’t even say it out loud. She just… asked if I had Friday off.”
“That’s the worst part,” Felix said gently. “She didn’t want to remind you. She wanted you to care enough to remember.”
A punch to the gut wouldn’t have hurt as much.
Jisung buried his face in his hands.
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah,” Jeongin muttered. “Kinda bad.”
He didn't even argue.
Because he could see it now, all of it. Her silence wasn’t punishment. It was heartbreak. It was the sound of someone giving up.
And tomorrow, her birthday, she’d wake up in a house full of silence, thinking the person she loved most in the world didn’t remember or care enough to say a single word.
The second the realization hit, Jisung couldn’t sit still.
He shot to his feet like the floor had burned him, nearly tripping over Felix’s outstretched legs. The others barely had time to register his panic before he was already moving, storming out of the practice room, heart pounding in his chest, the door slamming shut behind him with a crack that echoed down the hall.
He barely heard Jeongin’s “Hey—where are you going?” Didn’t stop to explain. Didn’t even breathe.
He’d forgotten.
Your birthday.
Tomorrow.
No, today. It was past midnight now.
He had forgotten your birthday.
The one day he was supposed to remember. The one day you never reminded him of because you always wanted to be seen without having to ask.
And instead of showing you love, he’d brushed you off. Pushed you away. Told you that your affection, your literal presence was a distraction.
It made him sick to think of your face in that moment now. The softness of your voice when you asked him if he was free. The way you leaned in, tried to kiss him. How your touch lingered on his shoulder like you were silently begging him not to let go.
And he had.
Without a second thought.
He hurt you.
The company doors banged shut behind him as he ran into the cool night air.
The streets were mostly empty, the last few buses rumbling past. He tugged his hood up and darted toward the only place that made sense, the only place he could think of at a time like this:
Your favorite bakery.
Even though he knew it was close to closing. Even though the odds were against him.
He didn’t care. He had to try.
He arrived, chest heaving, legs burning, and nearly slammed into the glass door.
Inside, the lights were still on. But barely.
The workers were already cleaning up, putting chairs on tables, wiping down the counters. Their eyes shifted to him the second he pushed the door open.
He could see it on their faces. That “please don’t walk in” expression masked with tired politeness.
“Can I get a cake?” he blurted, breathless.
One of the girls forced a smile. “We’re just closing up, I’m sorry—”
“I know,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I’m really sorry, I wouldn’t be here this late unless it was an emergency. I forgot something really important. Someone’s birthday. Someone I love.”
Something in his voice must’ve hit them.
Because after a beat, the girl sighed, glanced at the display case, and muttered, “I think we have one left. Lucky night, I guess.”
Jisung’s heart flipped.
She returned a second later with a small cake box in hand.
Your favorite flavor.
He could’ve cried.
He ran the whole way home. The cake safely in his arms. Careful. Intentional.
When he got back, the apartment was dark. Quiet. You were already asleep.
He peeked into the bedroom, you were curled up, turned away from the door, your shoulders tense even in rest. You looked… small. Worn out.
The guilt twisted inside him like a knife.
He closed the door gently. Didn’t make a sound.
Then he stared at the living room and kitchen like they were a blank canvas.
And he got to work.
He didn’t sleep.
He blew up balloons some crooked, some lopsided. He taped pictures of the two of you on the walls, printed ones he’d taken in secret during your late-night snack runs, your beach trip, even that one where you were brushing your teeth with a scowl.
He strung up a makeshift “Happy Birthday” banner, cut by hand with scraps of colored paper. He’d messed up the “R” three times. It still looked wrong.
He pulled out the small gifts he’d forgotten he had been meaning to give you, the lyrics he’d scribbled in the back of a notebook weeks ago, inspired by something you said while laughing. A hair clip you pointed at in a store once. He wrapped them in old sheet music.
He wrote a letter. Messy. Panicked. Honest. Full of crossed-out words and a giant smudge where he wiped his eyes.
He arranged it all by the time the clock hit 1:00 a.m.
And then he collapsed on the couch mid-balloon. One still half-inflated in his hands.
He didn’t hear the bedroom door creak open.
Didn’t feel the light of the hallway hit his face.
But the moment you moved, He did.
His body shot up like he was jolted back to life.
There you were.
Standing in the hallway, arms crossed over your chest, the expression on your face carefully blank, but your eyes spoke volumes.
You were still upset.
Rightfully.
You hadn’t forgotten. You hadn’t forgiven.
But he didn’t care if you hated him for another hour, another day, a week he had to show you something real now.
“Wait—don’t look yet!” he rushed, nearly tripping over a balloon.
You blinked slowly, unimpressed.
He walked up to you, gently reaching his hands to cover your eyes. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t soften, either.
He felt the chill in your posture. The hurt still lingering in your shoulders.
“Please,” he whispered. “Just... let me try.”
He guided you, quietly. Carefully.
His hands shook.
He stopped you in front of the living room, heart pounding against his ribs.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Now.”
He removed his hands from your eyes.
The lights were low. The table was covered in flickering tea candles. The little cake, topped with your favorite frosting. Photos taped to balloons hovered above.
Your name was scrawled across the banner in bright colors. The gifts sat nearby. His letter peeking out from under them.
He stepped in front of you.
“Happy birthday,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry I forgot. I’m sorry I hurt you. I know this doesn’t fix it, but I needed you to know, I know now. And I’m not going to forget again.”
You stared.
Expression unreadable. Chest tight.
He could see your jaw twitch like you were trying not to smile. But your eyes were glassy. The corners of your mouth shifted ever so slightly. You nearly cracked.
Nearly.
But the silence remained.
Because what he hurt wasn’t something decorations could patch up.
And still, you stood there.
Looking at him.
Looking at the effort.
The mess.
The truth.
And for the first time in days,
You didn’t look away.
The soft flicker of candlelight painted the room in warm hues, casting shadows over the clumsy decorations, the carefully placed gifts, the melting frosting on your cake.
It should have felt special. Thoughtful. Sweet.
But it didn’t.
Not yet.
Jisung stood just in front of you, his breathing uneven. His hands hung awkwardly by his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He looked nervous. Not in the cute, shy way he usually did when he surprised you, but the kind that made his whole frame feel like it was waiting to collapse.
You didn’t speak.
You didn’t move.
Your arms remained crossed, your expression unreadable, carefully neutral, but your eyes were fixed on him. Not the decorations. Not the cake. Not the pictures or the presents.
Just him.
And that silence, heavier than any door slam or raised voice, pierced deeper than either of you were ready to admit.
He finally swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t sleep. I stayed up all night working on this.”
You blinked slowly. Once.
“I ran all the way to the bakery before they closed,” he added, as if that explained anything. “They only had one cake left. I—I begged them.”
Still nothing.
He shifted on his feet, his eyes scanning your face, searching for something, anything to tell him he was getting through. That he hadn’t completely shattered the fragile thread between you.
But your face remained calm. Distant.
“I didn’t mean to forget,” he said softly, almost pleading. “I swear I didn’t mean to—”
You finally moved. Not toward him.
Just your head, tilting slightly.
Your eyes flicked over the decorations. The half-deflated balloon on the couch. The misspelled banner. The crumpled wrapping paper around a small box. The cake. The candles, now half-melted.
And then back to him.
A beat passed.
And then your voice quiet, hoarse, deliberate cut through the air.
“You didn’t mean to forget,” you echoed, almost to yourself. “But you did.”
Jisung flinched.
Because hearing it said out loud like that made it feel real all over again.
You didn’t yell. You didn’t accuse. You didn’t cry.
You just told the truth.
And somehow, that hurt more.
“I know,” he whispered, guilt tightening in his chest like a fist.
You finally stepped forward, walking past him, not bothering to ask if you could. You stood before the table, staring down at the small cake in the center. Your favorite flavor.
It looked perfect.
But it felt... wrong.
Uncomfortable.
Artificial.
You were quiet for a long time before you spoke again.
“You know what hurt the most?” you asked, eyes still on the table.
Jisung slowly turned to face you, but didn’t interrupt.
“It wasn’t that you forgot the date,” you said, voice trembling just enough to betray your restraint. “It’s that I came to you, twice, and you didn’t even look at me.”
He said nothing.
“I asked if you were free,” you continued, quieter. “And you brushed me off. I tried to kiss you, and you called me a distraction. You said you almost forgot your lyrics like I was in the way.”
The words cut like glass.
“And then you came to bed,” you said bitterly, shaking your head, “and instead of pulling me close, you scolded me again. You didn’t notice that I didn’t say anything back. You didn’t ask why I turned away.”
Jisung’s voice caught. “I didn’t know—”
“I know you didn’t,” you snapped suddenly, turning to face him now, arms still crossed but your chest rising fast, “because you didn’t care to know. You were too wrapped up in your music to notice that I was hurting. That I was right there in front of you, trying everything I could to be seen.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
“I didn’t want cake,” you said, softer now. “I didn’t want decorations or balloons or even a gift.”
Your voice cracked just slightly.
“I wanted you to remember me.”
A silence fell over the room that made even the candles seem to quiet.
Jisung’s heart felt like it had dropped out of his body.
Because now he saw it.
All of it.
This wasn’t about a forgotten birthday.
It was about what that forgetfulness meant to you.
That in the middle of his chaotic, music-fueled mind, you had fallen out of focus. And not just the date, you. Your presence. Your love. Your place beside him.
And the worst part?
You hadn’t yelled. You hadn’t begged.
You’d just gotten quiet.
And he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, but it sounded so small now. So empty in the shadow of everything you’d just said.
You looked at him for a long, long moment.
There was something raw in your expression now. Not anger. Not even sadness.
Just tiredness.
And then you gave a faint shrug.
“I know you are,” you said. “But I’m still hurt.”
You turned back toward the hallway slowly.
And before you walked away, you added one final thing,
“I don’t need grand gestures, Jisung.”
You paused.
“I just need to know I matter without having to remind you.”
And then you left him standing there.
Alone in a room full of balloons.
-
Morning came heavy.
The early light filtered in through the curtains in faded strips, casting muted patterns across the floor and walls. You were already awake, had been for hours. Lying still in bed, eyes on the ceiling, a dull ache stretching across your chest.
You hadn’t slept much.
Even after he decorated the night before. Even after the surprise. The effort.
The reminder that he cared, but only after he realized he’d forgotten.
There was something deeply hollow in the pit of your stomach. Something disappointment couldn’t fully name.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love you.
It was that he didn’t see you when you needed him to.
And you weren’t sure a cake at 1:00 a.m. was going to fix that.
When you finally got up, you didn’t say a word.
You padded into the living room, careful to avoid looking at the decorations still up. They felt… false. Like remnants of something built on guilt rather than intention.
Jisung was already awake, curled up on the couch, eyes half-lidded and red from lack of sleep.
He sat up immediately when he heard you.
"Morning," he said, softly cautiously.
You didn’t respond. Not even a glance in his direction.
He frowned but didn’t push.
You passed him, quiet as ever, and walked to the kitchen. The clatter of a mug on the counter was the loudest sound in the apartment. You poured yourself water. That was it. No breakfast.
He stood a minute later, stretching awkwardly. He hovered, just a few steps behind. Like he wanted to be close but didn’t know if he had permission anymore.
The silence between you was crushing.
He trailed you throughout the day, always within sight. Always trying to stay near you like he could fix the damage just by being close.
He didn’t go to practice. Didn’t write. Didn’t open his laptop or touch his notebook.
Instead, he lingered.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hovering.
When you sat on the floor to organize a drawer you didn’t really need to organize, he sat a few feet away, legs crossed, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his eyes kept flicking over to you. Quietly hopeful. Painfully anxious.
You didn’t speak.
When you changed rooms, he followed.
Not in an overbearing way just enough to make it known he was still there. That he was trying, even if he didn’t know how.
By the time afternoon crept in, you were still silent.
You didn’t eat.
Not out of pettiness, but because your emotions were so knotted, so close to the surface, that even chewing felt like a chore. Food would make this real. Food would be you accepting the day.
And right now, you weren’t ready.
Jisung noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t say anything.
He just... watched you.
With a kind of quiet panic in his eyes that made it clear he was spiraling inside.
By late evening, the tension had become a third person in the room breathing heavily, sitting between you on the couch, pressing against your sides.
You were scrolling absently on your phone. You hadn’t spoken in hours.
He was next to you, knees pulled to his chest, a small cushion hugged against his stomach. His hair was a mess, his hoodie wrinkled. He looked miserable, but kept pretending to be calm.
Then, in the quiet, your stomach growled.
Loudly.
Painfully loud in the dead silence.
You immediately stilled, eyes widening.
Jisung’s head whipped toward you.
There was a pause.
A long, too-long beat where his mouth twitched, like he was fighting it.
And then he laughed.
Not obnoxiously. Not teasingly.
But a soft, breathless, startled kind of laugh. Like the kind that slips out when the universe plays a joke on you.
He clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide like he knew he wasn’t supposed to laugh, but he couldn’t help it.
And for just one second, you cracked.
Your face twisted as you tried to stay stern. Tried to keep the front up. But the ridiculousness of it all, the dead silence, your growling stomach, the haunted look on his face, broke something loose.
You choked on your own breath, and suddenly a small laugh escaped you.
Not a big one. Not even a full sound. But enough.
His eyes softened instantly.
The tension snapped not fully, but just enough for the room to breathe again.
He stood, carefully, like approaching a wild animal that might still bite. Then walked toward you, slow and sure, eyes never leaving your face.
"Hey," he said, voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. "Look, I know you’re still pissed. And you should be."
You didn’t answer, but you didn’t look away either.
“I’ll apologize as many times as you want. I’ll keep groveling for the rest of the year if I have to,” he said, gently, kneeling in front of you now. His hands rested on the couch cushion beside your legs, not touching you. Just near.
“But right now… I need to celebrate you. Just a little. Just today. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t let yourself breathe. And I know I ruined the start of your day, but I’m begging you, please let me try to salvage the end of it.”
You blinked at him. Slow. Guarded.
“I know I messed up,” he said again, voice shaking. “But you don’t deserve to be hungry on your birthday. You don’t deserve to sit here feeling invisible. You deserve cake and your favorite food and someone telling you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them.”
His throat bobbed.
“I’m that someone. I swear I am.”
You didn’t move. You didn’t smile. But your lip quivered.
And he saw it.
He saw that flicker. That tiny unraveling.
So he slowly reached out his fingers brushing yours, tentative, waiting for rejection.
But you didn’t pull away.
Not this time.
He let out a shaky breath, and his grip tightened slightly around your hand.
“I’m ordering your favorite,” he said softly. “And I’m not letting you lift a finger tonight. You’re going to eat, and if you want, we’ll sit in silence. Or we’ll watch that show you love. Or I’ll leave after. Whatever you want. Just… let me be here for you. Like I should have been from the start.”
Another pause.
Then, barely audible
“Please.”
The air between you had shifted, slightly, like clouds parting just enough for a patch of sun to warm the skin. Still cloudy. Still heavy. But there was warmth now. And that was a start.
You watched him as he pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the food delivery app. “Your usual?” he asked gently, cautious but hopeful.
You nodded.
But just before he tapped the screen, you spoke, your voice barely louder than a whisper.
“…Add a brown sugar bubble tea.”
He looked up at you, surprised.
Your eyes met his briefly.
A small corner of his mouth lifted, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if a smile was allowed, but when you didn’t pull away, it widened with quiet relief. That moment, tiny as it was, cracked something in both of you.
He tapped a few buttons and said, “Large brown sugar milk tea with extra pearls, 50% sugar, less ice. Right?”
You nodded again.
“…Thank you,” you added softly.
His eyes softened, his shoulders dropping slightly as if he’d been holding his breath this entire time. “It’ll be here soon,” he said, setting his phone down on the coffee table.
Then he moved slowly like approaching a fragile edge of ice.
He sat beside you, close enough to feel his warmth again, but not crowding you. Not forcing anything.
And then, gently, he leaned his head on your shoulder. Slowly tilted further down until he was lying across the couch, his legs curled and head tucked carefully against your side. One arm draped loosely across your lap, his grip feather-light. His face pressed into the hem of your hoodie.
“I'm so sorry,” he whispered against you. “God, I’m so sorry.”
The words were hoarse. Choked.
Not dramatic. Not performative.
Just real.
Repeated again, like a mantra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
You ran your fingers through the sleeve hem of your hoodie for a moment, eyes staring past him, before you finally said, “I know.”
He turned his face a little, just enough to glance up at you.
“I forgive you,” you murmured, after a beat. “But I need you to know that you really, really hurt me.”
His breath hitched, but he nodded slowly.
You kept your voice steady. Firm but not harsh.
“I wasn’t even upset about the birthday anymore,” you said quietly. “You know I’ve never cared about birthdays that much.”
You paused.
“But when I asked if you had Friday off, you barely looked at me. And then I tried again, and you told me I was distracting you. Like I was bothering you. Like I was some kind of obstacle in your way.”
Jisung’s eyes dropped. His fingers curled tighter against your lap. He stayed completely still.
“That’s what hurt,” you said, voice finally cracking slightly. “Not the forgetting. But the pushing away. Like I was too much. Like I was getting in the way of your real priorities.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispered, desperate. “I wasn’t thinking. I was overwhelmed, I should’ve stopped and seen you.”
“You didn’t even notice when I stopped talking to you,” you added, looking down at him. “I was right there. And you didn’t even ask.”
His chest rose sharply, his lips pressing into a thin, broken line.
“I’ve been kicking myself for that for two days,” he said quietly. “I kept thinking, ‘Why is she being so cold?’ And I didn’t even consider that it was because I had gone cold first. I made you feel like a burden when you were just trying to love me.”
You didn’t say anything, but your eyes softened at that.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“You’re not a burden. You’re my peace. My home. And I treated you like you were noise.”
That hit something in you. Hard.
Because that was the truth you had no words for until now. You hadn’t wanted flowers or presents, you’d wanted to be met. To be held in mind and heart like you always did for him. You were asking to be cherished, just for a moment. And he hadn’t shown up.
But now, here he was.
Curled around you like an apology with a heartbeat.
You let your hand fall gently to his hair, fingers brushing through the soft strands.
And you finally said, “Just… don’t let me feel like that again.”
“I won’t,” he said immediately, his voice thick. “I swear, I won’t.”
You tilted down slightly to meet his gaze. His eyes were red. Teary. He looked so small, so ashamed, but so present.
“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Even when I’m stupid. Especially then.”
You gave him a small, tired smile.
“You are stupid,” you whispered.
He exhaled a breath of a laugh. And then looked at you again, this time with a question in his eyes.
You didn’t answer with words.
You leaned down, cupped his cheek gently, and kissed him.
Not soft.
Not dramatic.
But real. Lingering. Quietly desperate.
His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, pulling you closer, holding you like something he thought he’d lost. He kissed you back like he was still apologizing through every movement like he didn’t deserve you, but would spend the rest of his life making it up.
When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing shallow.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered, barely audible.
You closed your eyes.
And for the first time all day, you smiled.
“I still want that bubble tea,” you whispered.
He laughed into your shoulder, voice warm now, full of the relief he hadn’t dared hope for hours ago.
“You’re getting it,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll buy you ten. I’ll buy the whole damn shop.”
“You better,” you muttered, resting your hand over his.
And for the first time in days, the silence between you didn’t ache.
It simply held.
//
a/n: for 🌺 anon.
masterlist.
[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite @nyxaluna @tricky-ritz @tsunderelino @wickedbutlovely @delulumel @shinygubbins @hhwangsmoon lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]
This is so underrated that it hurts. I thought I was just gonna cry— no, I had a knife stabbed in my gut, twisted, and I bled to death, before being revived by the milk tea mentioned. Can never go wrong with brown sugar milk tea ☺️..
⟢ a pediatrician!baekhyun au req'd by this lovely anonie <3 :') ty baby!
sum: you and baekhyun were college sweethearts, bound by shared dreams of a future together. but when he was accepted to a medical residency program across the country, you kept a secret—you're pregnant. fearing that your news would derail his dream of becoming a doctor, you chose to disappear, raising your daughter alone. three years later, in a new city, you bring your little girl in for a routine check-up, only to discover her pediatrician is none other than baekhyun, her father.
જ⁀➴°⋆ content: 18+/MDNI. 24.2k+ words. omg Hahaha 🫣. baekhyun x f!reader. chanyeol x f!reader. baekhyun x f!oc. lovers to strangers to co-parents to lovers again. angst, slow burn, fluffy, then we get reaaaallll smutty ⟡ pet names, praise kink, body worship, unprotected sex, p in v, bulge kink, creampie, slight breeding kink (y'all should know me by now 🤟🏼😣) ⟡ ALSO! i made a playlist for you guys to vibe out to while you read cus i love u <3 :') its linked in the title!!!
you and baekhyun had once been the epitome of college sweethearts—late-night study sessions that bled into spontaneous adventures, laughter, and whispered dreams of a future together. you were inseparable, his drive to become a doctor and your quiet dream of building a life with him making everything feel so perfect. you could picture it all—the home, the life, the love, knowing you’d be together forever.
during those years, you moved in together. things got serious quickly. talks of marriage, kids, and a future you’d both start building when the time was right were always at the forefront. but as much as you both wanted to dive in right away, you both agreed that you’d wait until baekhyun had at least finished his schooling and residency. it made perfect sense—his dream of becoming a doctor came first, and you were happy to support him, knowing you’d have a lifetime to make it all happen.
you’d completed undergrad together, then post-grad, and now, with your master’s behind you, baekhyun was finishing med school and applying to residency programs. everything seemed to be unfolding just as it should.
but life, as it tends to do, shifted unexpectedly.
when baekhyun’s acceptance letter arrived—the one from his dream residency program across the country—your world tilted, skewed into something unrecognizable. this was his number one pick, the culmination of years of sacrifice and determination. you should’ve been ecstatic, screaming with joy for him, for his future. but instead, a foreign weight settled low in your stomach, twisting into something unnameable.
you’d only just found out, barely two days ago. pregnant. the word clung to you like a vice, heavy and suffocating. you hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even considered it a possibility. and yet, here it was—undeniable. that stupid test, its second line blaring back at you like a neon sign, mocking the life you thought you had under control.
you stared at it, willing the line to fade, to disappear, to become a cruel trick of your imagination. but it didn’t. and the next test didn’t either. nor the one after. five little sticks, five blaring truths. undeniable. inescapable.
you didn’t want to hold him back. not when his dreams were so close. not when the future he had worked so hard for was finally within his grasp.
so you made a decision. you couldn’t tell him. you couldn’t bear to see the guilt and the pain in his eyes as he would undoubtedly sacrifice his dreams for you and the baby. you thought it was the right thing to do, that you were doing him a favor by disappearing, by cutting off all contact.
you had moved to a new city—far from the places where memories of baekhyun lingered, far from the shadow of the life you’d carefully unraveled. it wasn’t easy; untangling yourself from him had felt like pulling threads from a tapestry until it barely resembled what it once was. but over time, you found a rhythm. a life where thoughts of him became a quiet hum rather than a deafening roar, where the love that had once consumed you slipped quietly into the recesses of your heart.
and now, three years later, you stand here as someone completely transformed: a mother.
raising your daughter alone had its challenges, sure, but you couldn’t deny the sense of purpose it gave you. you were made for this. or maybe it was her—the tiny miracle who had made it all feel so natural. from the moment she came into the world, she was an angel, a light so radiant it softened even the hardest days.
sure, she had her moments. she was a toddler, after all, still learning how to navigate big feelings in a little body. but her resilience—the way she could fall apart one minute and bounce back the next—made everything easier. she was your shadow, your little mimic, always wanting to copy everything you did.
the love she gave you was pure and boundless, something you hadn’t realized could exist until she was in your arms. it was a love that filled the spaces in you that you didn’t even know were empty, a love that made the sacrifices and sleepless nights worth it.
you often found yourself wondering if she was a gift straight from the universe, a little piece of heaven sent just for you. every smile she gave, every tight hug, every soft ‘i love you, mommy’ felt like proof that you were the luckiest soul alive.
and as you watched her now, her tiny fingers curled around her favorite stuffed bunny, a swell of overwhelming gratitude washed over you. life had twisted and turned in ways you never could’ve anticipated, but somehow, in her, it had gifted you everything you’d ever need.
maybe it was the depth of love she gave, the way she radiated warmth and light, that made the thought of telling baekhyun even more terrifying. she was everything—the way her laughter could turn any bad day around, the way her eyes sparkled with innocence and curiosity. a fragile little soul, so beautiful it almost hurt. and you knew, deep down, that baekhyun would’ve adored her. loved her more than words could describe.
the thought of it—of him finding out, of him knowing you’d kept her from him, hidden this piece of him, this precious life from him—it twisted something deep inside you. it made your chest tighten, your thoughts spiral. the guilt, the shame—it felt like a constant ache, one that only grew the more you thought about it.
you and baekhyun talked about it, after all—the future you both dreamed of. lazy nights tangled together under blankets, whispering about what life would look like years down the road. marriage, a house filled with warmth and laughter, children.
he wanted a family with you. he was so sure of it, so sure of you. he used to say that he couldn’t imagine anyone else being the mother of his kids. the way he looked at you when he said it—it was as if his soul had reached out, seen yours, and said, there she is, the one we’ve been waiting for.
he was a dreamer. he’d mapped it all out in his head—two girls, two boys. his perfect little quartet. the oldest, a girl, to set the tone, to be the leader of the pack. then a boy to balance things out, another boy to roughhouse and make the middle feel less lonely, and finally, the baby of the family, a girl to soften the edges of the chaos. he laughed at the improbability of it all, at how life doesn’t work like that, but he loved dreaming about it anyway.
you still remembered the way his face lit up when you’d asked him, teasing, what he’d name his first daughter.
he didn’t even hesitate. he looked up at you, that smile you used to know better than your own, and said, minji.
your little girl, minji, was the brightest star in your universe, her laughter a melody that softened every hard edge of your world. her smile—warm and golden—was like sunlight spilling into the corners of your heart, chasing away the shadows that lingered from the life you left behind. she was growing so fast, each day a reminder of how fleeting these moments were, and how much you wanted to hold onto them.
sometimes, though, when the house was quiet and the weight of the past crept in, you allowed yourself to think about baekhyun. it was never for long—just a passing thought, a wondering what if. you didn’t dare to linger, didn’t dare to stir up the bittersweet ache of old feelings and lingering regrets. he had his life now, and you had yours.
but still, he had been the love of your life, and that kind of love doesn’t just disappear. curiosity tugged at you from time to time. late at night, when minji was fast asleep, you’d catch yourself wondering what he was doing, where he was, if he ever thought about you, too.
yet no matter how strong the urge, you never gave in. you wouldn’t let yourself open his socials, wouldn’t let yourself peer into the window of the life he was living without you. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to know—it was that you couldn’t. because knowing might hurt more than not knowing, and the delicate balance you’d created would come crashing down.
you hadn’t blocked him, not on anything. instead, you deleted every account, wiped your digital footprint clean, and changed your number. you made sure there was no way for him to reach you, no thread he could pull to unravel the wall you’d built between you.
you never allowed yourself to dwell on how hurt he might have been—how confused he must’ve felt, waiting for a call or a text that never came. the promises you’d made to him echoed in your mind, haunting you. i’ll tell him when the time is right. but the right time never came.
and then she was born. tiny fingers curling around yours, eyes so full of life. she reached milestones—her first smile, her first steps, her first word—and with each one, the weight of telling him grew heavier. how could you? how could you drop this truth on him after he’d already missed so much?
you imagined his reaction: the sharp edge of his disappointment, the rawness of his hurt, the anger that would burn in his chest. he’d ask you why—why did you wait? why did you let so much time pass? and you’d have no answer, nothing that could make it right.
as the years went by, the truth turned into a mountain too steep to climb. every day that passed felt like another brick in the wall separating you. every moment you stayed silent made it harder to imagine breaking that silence.
you told yourself it was for the best. you told yourself he deserved better than someone who had made this choice, this mess.
because deep down, you believed it: you didn’t deserve him. not anymore. not after this
the sound of tiny sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor filled the pediatrician’s office as you followed your daughter toward the nurse’s station. she clutched her favorite stuffed animal tightly in one hand while the other reached back for yours, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the colorful murals on the walls.
it was a routine check-up for minji, nothing out of the ordinary. she had been a healthy, happy child since birth, and today was just another appointment to ensure that everything was progressing as it should.
you had scheduled the appointment weeks ago, not knowing who the pediatrician was going to be. when you walked into the small, sunlit office, minji tugged excitedly on your sleeve, her eyes wide with curiosity at the brightly colored walls and the small toys scattered around the waiting room.
“mommy, look!” she gasped, pointing to a painted giraffe. her excitement momentarily eased the nervous flutter in your stomach. “a giraffe!”
“yes, it is, bun! good job!” you smile down at the little girl, holding your hand tightly.
it had been over three years. three years since you’d left your old life—and him—behind. baekhyun was supposed to be a part of your daughter’s story, but you made the impossible choice of keeping him out of it. his dreams had always been so big, and you didn’t want to weigh them down with your own.
a medical assistant called your name, her warm, practiced smile cutting through the haze of your thoughts.
you scooped your daughter into your arms, her tiny hands clutching her stuffed bunny, and followed the nurse into the examination room. she wriggled slightly but settled on your lap, the bunny tucked snugly under her chin as she began the usual routine.
height. weight. temperature. the nurse kept up a cheerful, steady rhythm of chatter, her voice a soft hum in the background as your daughter giggled at the stickers offered to her.
“dr. byun will be in shortly,” the medical assistant said with a final smile before leaving the room.
your heart stopped.
'dr. byun'?
no. it couldn’t be him. it had to be a coincidence. it was a common enough name, wasn’t it? but the sound of it crashed into you, unraveling the calm façade you’d so carefully built.
you told yourself you were being ridiculous. you told yourself to breathe. but the name echoed in your head, louder with every passing second, until you could barely hear your own thoughts over the roar of panic rising in your chest.
then came the knock.
soft. polite.
the door creaked open, and time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl as he stepped inside.
your breath caught in your throat.
it was him.
fuck.
no.
this wasn’t supposed to happen. not like this. this wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. there were plans you never made, conversations you never had.
this was a complete and utter nightmare. and there was no waking up from it.
“hi, i’m dr. byun—” his voice wavered, the words barely leaving his lips before they caught in his throat. his eyes found yours, wide with recognition, a spark of disbelief flashing like lightning in a storm.
his gaze drifted downward, landing on the little girl perched on your lap. her tiny hands clutched your sweater, her curious eyes meeting his with unfiltered wonder.
for a moment, the world seemed to stop turning.
his lips parted, and your name slipped out, soft and breathless, as if saying it might make the moment vanish. “it’s you,” he murmured, a mixture of shock and something deeper lacing his tone.
you couldn’t find your voice, couldn’t push past the lump forming in your throat. it was as though every nerve in your body had frozen, locked under the weight of his stare.
your daughter, oblivious to the tension coiling around you, tilted her head with a sunny smile. her voice rang out, bright and pure, shattering the silence like glass.
“hi, dr. byun!” she chirped, her words sweet and unassuming, a small anchor of innocence in the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to pull you under.
baekhyun’s eyes widened instantly, flickering between you and her. you could see the cogs in his mind turning, the pieces falling into place far quicker than you were ready for.
his gaze lingered on her—studying, comparing. the resemblance was impossible to ignore. the same dark, expressive eyes that had once melted your heart, the same warm, radiant smile that mirrored his own.
“is…is she?” his voice was barely above a whisper, as though he wasn’t asking you but trying to make sense of the impossible himself. his eyes never left her, as if every second he stared brought him closer to the undeniable truth.
her delicate features were a perfect blend of you both, like a portrait painted with pieces of your souls. the curve of his nose graced her face, paired with the flush of your rosy cheeks. his silky black hair framed her tiny head, while your lips formed the gentle pout she wore even in sleep. your eyes shone through hers, but her ears—those were unmistakably his. she was everything you were, everything he was—woven together into this perfect, fragile little person, carrying pieces of a love that felt both timeless and out of reach. and now, looking at her, there was no denying it.
your mouth opened, but the words didn’t come. you tried to speak, to explain, to say something—anything—but all that escaped was a breath, shallow and lost in the silence that filled the space between you. the truth hung there, thick and fragile, like a thread that could snap at any moment, leaving you exposed.
you could only nod, slow and uncertain, as the weight of everything pressed down on you. the guilt was suffocating, heavy like a stone lodged in your chest, threatening to spill out in the form of tears you couldn’t afford to shed. but there was no escaping it anymore.
she was his.
baekhyun sank to his knees in front of her, his movements tentative, as if afraid that any sudden motion might make her disappear. he leaned in, eyes soft with a mixture of awe and something deeper, something unspoken.
“so, tell me. what’s your name, sweetheart?” his voice was gentle, tender, the words falling from his lips like a promise he wasn’t quite ready to make.
“minji,” she said proudly, her tiny hands holding up her stuffed bunny, as though it were the most important thing in the world. “this is sonny. she’s a bunny.”
the moment her name reached his ears, something shifted in baekhyun’s chest. his heart skipped, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, soft and amazed. for a brief second, he was lost in the memory of a quiet conversation—the one where you’d asked him what he would want to name your daughter, and how that moment, so simple, had felt like a lifetime ago.
“hi, minji,” he said softly, his voice trembling as his eyes locked onto her small, curious face. he crouched slightly, lowering himself to her level, and the words caught in his throat. “i’m…” his gaze flickered upward to yours, and in that brief second, the weight of it all was laid bare. his expression faltered, his eyes glossing with unshed tears, carrying the unspoken words and unresolved emotions that hung heavy between you.
you saw it then—the man he was before, the one you fell for, unchanged and yet altered by time and pain.
“…a good friend of your mommy’s,” he finally managed, the words shaky but kind.
minji giggled, her laughter light and carefree, like a burst of sunshine breaking through a storm. “mommy has lots of friends!” she chirped, her innocence unknowingly twisting the knife in baekhyun’s chest.
he nodded with a soft smile, his lips barely curving, as if the weight of her words was too much to bear. “she does, doesn’t she?” he murmured. his hands moved carefully as he began preparing for her exam, every motion deliberate, like he was trying to steady himself through the task.
but his eyes… his eyes stayed rooted to the ground, skirting around yours as if meeting your gaze would undo him entirely. and as you stood there, watching him avoid you, something inside you cracked. you knew why. you knew he wasn’t ready yet—not to face you, not to confront the flood of everything that had been left unsaid.
as baekhyun began the check-up, it was as if the floodgates of your heart had been ripped open. memories surged in, overwhelming you like a tidal wave—those plans you had once woven together, the future you had dreamed of, the life you thought you’d build before everything crumbled. nearly four years had passed since you disappeared without a trace, but those dreams now felt like fragile, delicate threads, tangled in the web of secrets you’d spun to protect him.
baekhyun moved with the same calm professionalism that you remembered—his hands steady and sure as he worked. but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, from the way he interacted with minji—his touch soft and deliberate, his voice lilting with that same soothing cadence. it was a tenderness that sliced through you, sharp and immediate, a reminder of everything you’d lost. how could you have let him slip away? how could you have convinced yourself that walking away was the right choice?
watching him, gently checking minji’s ears, his voice quieting her in the way he once did for you, something inside you twisted painfully. you couldn’t run from him anymore. not now. not ever again.
the exam ended far too quickly. minji bounced off the examination table, her bunny clutched in her small arms, and baekhyun handed you a stack of papers—educational handouts, visit summaries, the usual paperwork from a child’s wellness check. his fingers brushed yours as he passed them to you, and the brief touch left a burning trail that lingered long after.
minji’s small hand tugged at your sleeve, warm and insistent, her voice a soft melody that cut through the heavy air. “mommy, mommy! can we go play now?”
you forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. the weight of the moment pressed on your chest, and you fought to keep the tears from falling. “sure, bun. we’ll go in just a minute.”
the word bun hung in the air between you, and baekhyun flinched. his eyes flickered with something raw, a mix of pain and recognition. that name. it was something he used to call you— a relic of a past that felt both distant and achingly close.
his gaze didn’t leave you, like he was trying to unravel the walls you’d so carefully built around yourself. there was a quiet intensity in his eyes, as if he was searching for something buried deep within you. the space between you both thickened, heavy with unspoken words. it felt suffocating, like the air was being stolen from your lungs. this was it. the moment that would change everything.
after what felt like an eternity, baekhyun cleared his throat, his voice thick with restraint. “we need to talk,” he said, the words heavy and laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “please… i just… i have so many questions.”
you nodded quickly, the anxiety twisting your insides into knots. “um, sure… i can meet you after i drop her off at daycare?” your words rushed out, frantic, as your brow furrowed in uncertainty.
"there’s a coffee shop nearby," he murmured, his voice soft yet steady, the words deliberate. his hand moved to pull out a notepad, pen poised above the paper. with a few swift strokes, he jotted down the name of the place before folding the paper and handing it to you. "i have a couple more patients to see this morning. do you think you can meet me there in an hour?"
his voice was calm, but his eyes—those eyes—told a different story. they flickered with something raw, something desperate, like a storm fighting its way to the surface.
you took the slip of paper, your fingers brushing his, a small shock of warmth shooting through you at the touch. you glanced down at the paper, his handwriting still familiar, though now slightly uneven, as if his nerves had bled into the ink. beneath the coffee shop's name, his number was written—neat but hurried, a subtle tremor in the lines.
you looked back up, and his gaze met yours—quiet, intense, full of unspoken things. without a word, he nodded toward the paper, his voice steady but laced with something fragile, something that didn’t quite fit with the man you knew. "that's my number, bun. just in case you're running late or something."
you nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but it felt tight, strained. his nickname for you—a small, tender thing—lingered in the air like a spark. you felt it in your chest, but the words caught in your throat. too much. too many emotions swirling. your hands moved on instinct, gathering minji’s things, offering him a tight, polite smile before ushering your daughter out of the room.
but just as you turned to leave, you swore you heard him whisper—barely audible, a plea caught between his teeth, "please, don't leave me hanging this time."
it hit you like a blow to the gut, leaving you breathless. the weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating.
and in that moment, you knew with brutal clarity—you deserved that.
you sat there, the weight of your nerves pressing down on you, each breath feeling too loud in the quiet of the café. baekhyun chatted casually with the barista, ordering drinks like it was any other day, like nothing had changed between you two. his voice was light, unbothered, but it only made the tension in your chest heavier. you gripped the strap of your bag so tightly your fingers ached, heart pounding in your ears, drowning out the soft hum of conversation around you. your mind raced in circles, desperately searching for the right words—something to apologize for the years you took from him, for keeping his daughter from him, for all the lies. but no matter how hard you tried to form the apology, the truth hovered over you: what you did was unforgivable.
when baekhyun finally returned, he slid your drink in front of you, his movements slower than usual, almost tentative. you brought the cup to your lips, the warmth of it familiar, the taste exactly as you remembered—comforting, like a quiet reminder of everything you'd tried to bury.
"i remembered how you liked your coffee," baekhyun murmured, his voice softer than before, tinged with uncertainty. "i hope it's still the same."
you met his gaze, your throat tight as you forced a small smile. "it is. thank you."
baekhyun exhaled a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair, his fingers snagging in the tousled strands. his eyes drifted away from yours, unable to meet your gaze, as if the weight of this moment was pressing down on him just as much as it was on you.
"so..." you began, your voice hesitant, but before you could find the right words, he interrupted.
“i’m engaged,” he blurted, the words sharp and sudden, like a slap to the face.
it hit you in the chest, the shock stealing the air from your lungs. the room seemed to tilt, the ground beneath you crumbling, and you couldn’t find your footing. as if this day wasn’t heavy enough, this new weight crushed you under its force.
"oh," you whispered, the word tasting hollow, barely escaping as your heart constricted. "congratulations. i'm sure she's... amazing."
"mhm," he hummed softly, a brief flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before it faded. his eyes dropped to his coffee cup, watching the steam rise like he was searching for something in the shifting mist, anything to avoid the tension between you.
you couldn’t find the strength to say more. words seemed pointless now. instead, you sat there, biting your lip, your gaze fixed on the table as jealousy and heartbreak clawed at you from the inside. you knew you had no right to feel this way, no right to be hurt after everything that had happened. but still, the ache lingered, a quiet, relentless sting.
his fingers raked through his hair again, the tension in his jaw unmistakable as he exhaled sharply, frustration thick in the air. when he finally met your gaze, his eyes were raw with hurt, every unspoken word between you now painfully exposed. "so why didn't you tell me? about minji?"
you'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times in your mind, each word crafted carefully, but now, sitting across from him, it all felt empty, hollow. "you had just gotten into your residency program," you said softly, voice shaky. "it was your dream. i…i didn’t want to hold you back."
his eyes darkened, the hurt twisting into something sharper. "so what? you thought you could decide for me? you think i wouldn't have wanted to be there?" his voice cracked with emotion, rising. "do you have any idea how much i waited for you? how many nights i sat by the phone, praying you'd call?"
the weight of it hit you, hard. you'd known, of course—he'd been dropped from the program. he'd fought tooth and nail to get into a second-choice school, one that brought him here, to this city. and now, here he was, sitting across from you, the remnants of his sacrifice hanging in the silence between you.
his gaze faltered, dropping to the steaming cup in front of him. he stared at the swirling mist as if it held the answers, as if the rising steam could ease the hurt, the questions, the ache that had settled between you.
you didn’t know what to say anymore. words felt pointless, insignificant in the face of everything that had unfolded. instead, you sat there, biting your lip, unable to meet his eyes, while jealousy and regret clawed at your chest. it wasn’t your place to feel this way—not after everything you had done. but the sting of it, sharp and biting, wouldn’t fade.
the tears you had spent so long holding back finally began to break free, each drop feeling like it had been waiting a lifetime to fall. you didn’t want to keep apologizing, but the words slipped out, hollow and fragile. "it wasn’t an easy choice, baekhyun. i thought i was doing the right thing."
“‘the right thing’?” his voice softened, but the hurt in his words still rang out like a chord being pulled too tight. "you didn’t even give me a chance. i missed everything—her first steps, her first words. you took all of that from me."
your throat tightened, each breath harder to catch. you swallowed, and your voice cracked under the weight of the truth. “i know,” you whispered, the regret clawing at you. “i regret it every day.”
baekhyun’s hands were curled into fists, white knuckles pressing into the table like they could anchor him in place. he didn’t look at you—his gaze was lost in his coffee, the silence hanging heavily between you both. and then, after what felt like an eternity of stillness, he spoke again, his voice quieter, as if the question had burned him from the inside. “does she know?”
you shook your head slowly, feeling your chest tighten. “i haven’t told her. i didn’t know how... but she’s been asking. she sees the other kids with their dads and wonders why she doesn’t have one.”
baekhyun covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes as if trying to erase the raw pain. "i can't believe this. i can't believe you."
"i know, baekhyun," you whispered, tears spilling down your face without control now. "you have every right to hate me... and if you want, you don’t have to see either one of us again—"
his voice sliced through your words, thick with disbelief, tremoring as if he couldn’t comprehend what you were saying. "are you... are you serious right now? you’d leave? again? how is that supposed to fix anything? did you not think i wanted her? wanted you? we’ve talked about this, bun... you knew what it meant for me to be a dad."
the sobs broke free from you then, impossible to hold back, your chest aching with each desperate breath. you wiped at your face, but your hands trembled too violently, the tears just wouldn’t stop. all you could choke out were broken apologies, fragments of regret slipping between your breaths. "i knew you’d drop everything for her. for us. but... you becoming a doctor, that was your dream... and i was just so scared."
he leaned forward, his expression softening, but there was still a fire in his eyes. “i want to be in her life,” he said, his voice firm, steady, eyes red from the silent tears streaming down his face. “she’s my daughter. and i want to know her. i want her to know me. her father.”
you looked at him, your heart heavy with guilt. “i wasn’t planning to keep you away,” you said, your voice cracking. “i just... i didn’t know how to tell you after all this time.”
baekhyun’s gaze softened, his voice quieter but resolute. “we’ll figure it out. but i’m not letting you push me away again.”
you paused, biting your lip, anxiety clawing at your chest. “but what about your fiancée? you already had a life of your own before today…i can’t help but feel like i’ve fucked everything up for you, baekhyun.”
he shook his head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping him before he quickly suppressed it. his voice faltered, the nickname slipping out before he even realized it. “don’t worry about that, bun—” he stopped mid-sentence, the word tasting strange and wrong on his tongue after your mention of his fiancée. it was as if, in that moment, he’d completely forgotten about her. he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “i mean… just let me handle that. but for now... please, promise me you won’t disappear again. promise me you won’t take her away from me. i’m begging you... let me in. i feel like you owe me that much.”
you nodded, the promise catching in your throat. “i promise.”
you scrolled slowly through your camera roll, fingers grazing over the images of your daughter, sharing them with baekhyun—each one, a snapshot of her life, a memory you’d held in secret for so long. each photo was like a tender piece of your soul, each moment a quiet confession of everything that had unfolded without him. there was a rawness in it, a vulnerability that felt like you were unwrapping your heart for him, and it was overwhelming. for both of you.
he sat there, eyes scanning the photos, and a storm of emotions swirled within him. there was anger, sharp and bitter, that you’d kept minji hidden from him. all those years, a secret that was both yours and hers to carry. betrayal lingered in his chest, not from you, but from the truth that he hadn’t been there, that he’d missed out on so much. and yet, despite it not being his fault, guilt settled heavy in his heart—guilt that you had to raise her alone. guilt for every moment you’d carried the weight of motherhood without him by your side.
but baekhyun, the man who had always been able to push past the shadows of the past, found something in the photos—something bright, something he could hold onto. minji’s smile, sweet and dimpled, was a beacon of hope. it was everything he needed to see, to ignite a fire within him. it wasn’t just a reminder of what was lost—it was the fuel that would drive him to make up for every single moment he’d missed.
the weight of the conversation shifted slowly, and before you even realized it, the words spilled out. you couldn’t stop yourself—you had to ask about her. his fiancée.
he told you her name was soo. they met during his residency, he said, when she helped pull him from the darkest corner of his life—the place where your absence had left him, broken and barely breathing. she was the one who stitched him back together, the one who healed the wound you’d left, a wound that, it seemed, only she could mend.
and yet, even as he spoke, despite the rawness of his confession, he wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. he didn’t want to hurt you. but the words hung there, thick with unspoken emotions.
then, he showed you the photos. of her. oh god, she was beautiful. radiant, in a way that seemed to glow from within. they looked like they were made for each other, perfectly matched, intertwined in a way you could never hope to be. he spoke of her with awe—how brilliant and kind she was.
and as he spoke, something tugged at the edges of your thoughts. his eyes, usually so bright and full of warmth when he spoke of someone he loved, were different now. softer, distant. the sparkle that once lived there had dimmed, as if the affection he had for her wasn’t as alive as it once had been. you told yourself not to read too much into it, to not dwell on the subtle shift. it had been years. people changed, didn’t they? he wasn’t the same baekhyun you remembered. especially not after everything you had put him through.
it stirred a jealousy in you, sharp and bitter, but deeper than that, it left a dull ache settling in your chest. you longed to be the one he spoke of with such adoration, the one he admired in every way. you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if he ever spoke about you like that—if he ever felt for you the way he now seemed to feel for her. it burned like poison in your veins, a vile and familiar ache that made you sick to your stomach. you hated it. hated how it made you feel so small, so unimportant. the weight of it made you want to vanish, to slip out of your own skin, anything to escape the suffocating reality of it all. you should be happy for him. happy that he had found someone who could make him feel whole again. but all you could feel was the hollow ache of your own failure to ever be enough.
you tried to smile, tried to hold yourself together, but each compliment, each story, each glowing word about her, hit you like a dagger to the chest. you couldn’t listen anymore. you didn’t want to.
it was too much. before you even realized it, you were standing, your throat tight as you forced the words out. “i... i need to go. um, i have to make dinner…and pick up minji from daycare. i’ll text you. we can figure out a time for you both to meet properly.”
before he could respond, you were out the door, the bells above the café door jingling as you fled.
but you didn’t make it far. a few seconds later, you heard the hurried footsteps behind you, his voice calling out. “bun—fuck, wait! slow down!”
you could feel the tears streaming down your face again, hot and uncontrollable. you wiped them hastily, hoping he didn’t see. but of course, he did. he always did.
“look,” baekhyun began, his voice softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t place. “i never thought i’d hear from you again. and now you just—pop back into my life, on a random friday, with a daughter i had no idea about. i’m sorry if you’re upset that there’s someone else in my life. but please... don’t punish me for finding myself again after you completely destroyed me.”
his words hit harder than anything you could’ve prepared for. your knees felt weak, your heart shattering with every syllable. because it was true. every part of it. you had done this. you’d pushed him away, and now you had no right to feel this way, no right to demand anything.
"baek," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, trembling under the weight of everything you couldn’t say. "you’re right. i don’t have the right to feel this way. i just... when i saw you again, it was like everything came crashing back. all those old feelings—things i thought i’d buried—flooded back in an instant. but i swear, i won’t keep minji from you. i won’t. and... i’m honestly so glad you’ve found happiness. and soo—she... she seems amazing. i can see why you’re with her. and... i’m genuinely looking forward to co-parenting with you both. really."
you swallowed hard, the words like sandpaper against your throat. the lie at the end tasted bitter, clinging to the back of your tongue, but you forced them out anyway. you needed him to believe it. needed him to let you go so you could retreat to the quiet of your own space, where you could curl up and weep in the solitude of your own shame.
his expression softened, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. “hmm…okay.” he reached into his pocket, pulling out your phone. “you left this on the table. and, uh… you promise you’ll stay in contact?”
you nodded quickly, unlocking your phone and typing your name into the message. “you have mine now, too.”
a small relief flashed in his eyes when he saw your name on the screen. he nodded, his voice steady. “thank you. let me know when you’re both ready. we’ll make this work.”
you nodded, your throat tight as you wiped away the last of the tears. you offered him a half-smile, barely managing to hold it together, before turning away. your feet felt heavy as you walked to your car, the silence between you louder than anything.
when you finally arrived home, everything came crashing down at once, a tidal wave that hit you full-force. the weight of everything you’d been holding inside pressed into your chest, suffocating, like your lungs had forgotten how to breathe. you collapsed, body trembling, as sobs wrenched their way through you—soft, guttural cries that seemed to echo in the emptiness of your apartment. tears streamed down your face, thick and relentless, each one heavier than the last, as if they were washing away more than just your sorrow. how had you managed to mess everything up this badly?
the feeling of being lost in your own failure was dizzying, a dark spiral that threatened to swallow you whole.
chanyeol, your next-door neighbor, was more than just a friendly face. he was a single parent too, his daughter nari being the same age as minji. from the moment you’d moved in, the girls had been inseparable—like they were two halves of the same whole, constantly together, sharing everything from toys to whispered secrets. and over time, you and chanyeol had become something more than neighbors. you were lifelines to one another, navigating the chaos of single parenthood side by side. daycare pickups, late-night texts for advice, emergency contact calls—they were moments that built trust, moments that held you both up when the world felt too heavy.
but then there were the other moments. the ones that neither of you had planned, yet they happened all the same.
on nights when the girls had sleepovers, tucked under either your roof or his, the house would fall into an eerie stillness, a quiet so profound it felt almost alien. no toys scattered across the floor, no giggles or whispers. just an empty house, and the faint hum of the world outside. in those moments, the bottle of wine always made its way to the table—deep crimson liquid swirling in your glass, catching the soft light in a way that felt too intimate, too inviting. the scent of it lingered in the air, rich and heady, like a secret waiting to be shared. one glass became two, then three, until the words flowed freely, unguarded.
laughter bubbled between you both, light and carefree, mingling with the quiet sounds of the night. and somewhere, in the subtle space between casual conversation and shared history, something shifted—unspoken, but impossible to ignore. it wasn’t deliberate, not in the beginning, but it was undeniable. a quiet tension hung between you both, the kind that hummed just below the surface, like a chord waiting to be struck.
in the warm, dim light, the lines between friendship and something more began to blur. his lips brushed yours—not quite a kiss, but not exactly innocent either. the taste of wine lingered on his mouth, mingling with something darker, something deeper, something unspoken. your hands—almost of their own accord—found their way to each other, fingers tracing the outline of familiar paths, not quite daring to go any further. the touch was careful, deliberate, like a dance on the edge of something you both knew was dangerous, but too tempting to resist.
each kiss lingered just long enough to leave you wanting more, but never deepened enough to cross the line you both feared. the weight of unspoken rules hung between you, pulling back every time either of you tried to cross the line. clothes were the only barrier between you, a fragile wall that you both clung to, even as the urge to tear it down grew stronger.
but even in the silence, the weight of your unresolved feelings for baekhyun settled heavily in the room, a ghost that neither of you could escape. and chanyeol—he carried his own baggage. the loss of his wife, a wound that had never fully healed, leaving him to raise nari on his own, balancing grief and fatherhood in a way that only he understood. he wasn’t looking for more. not from you. not yet.
the timing was all wrong, the space between you wasn’t yours to claim. but in those rare moments, it felt as if maybe, just maybe, it could have been.
it was never spoken aloud, but you both knew the truth. chanyeol knew you still loved baekhyun, and that truth hung between you like a quiet weight. neither of you disturbed it. the unspoken agreement between you was that your daughters came first, no matter what. whatever might have blossomed between you, if it ever did, had to come naturally, unburdened by guilt or pretense.
but in those moments, when the air between you grew thick with something more, a quiet voice inside you would pull you back. it reminded you of the messy knots still holding your heart in place, the wounds that hadn’t yet healed. you couldn’t move forward—not yet. not while your heart was still tangled with baekhyun.
chanyeol, always the gentleman, never pushed. he was patient, always aware of your needs, always respectful of the boundaries you set. when you needed to talk, he listened; when you needed space, he gave it. but in the quiet of his own heart, he couldn’t help but feel more for you than he allowed himself to admit. how could he not? you were beautiful, strong, and a devoted mother. you embraced nari as your own, and in doing so, you made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t express. even knowing your heart was still tethered to someone else, he couldn’t stop himself from wishing—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, one day you’d find your way to him.
he carried that silent ache with the kind of grace only he could muster, never letting it slip, even as it quietly wore at him, just a little more each day.
so when you texted him—asking if he could pick up minji, keeping the explanation vague, not wanting him to worry—he was there. barely ten minutes later, a soft knock at your door echoed through the silence.
when you opened it, his wide eyes met the mess that was you—mascara streaks trailing down your cheeks, a crumpled tissue clenched in your trembling hand. you tried to muster a smile, but it felt paper-thin, your voice weak and brittle. “yeolie? what’s up?”
the words barely left your lips before he froze in place, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. “a-are you okay? what’s going on? did someone—did something happen? is minji okay? are you sick? do you need me to take you to the hospital?” his voice cracked, the flood of questions spilling out in rapid succession, his panic tangible.
you stepped aside, pulling the door open wider, silently inviting him in. he didn’t hesitate, stepping through, his gaze glued to yours like he was searching for answers in your tear-stained face.
he trailed behind you to the couch, his presence steady and grounding as you collapsed onto the cushions, tears streaming freely. through shaky breaths, you unraveled the tangled mess of your day—the awkward reunion, the jumbled emotions, the weight of everything that seemed to be crumbling all at once. you didn’t dare admit the jealousy clawing at your chest, the hollow ache that filled you when baekhyun spoke about his fiancée with such love. that part you kept tucked away, too raw, too humiliating to expose.
chanyeol sat beside you, his towering frame a comforting shadow as he listened. really listened. his hand moved in soothing circles along your back, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.
your words poured out, no longer confined to just the events of the day but expanding into everything—the years that had passed, the guilt that had burrowed deep and refused to let go. every regret, every misstep, every weight you’d carried alone spilled out in a torrent of tears and confessions. and chanyeol just sat there, unwavering, holding space for you in the way only a true friend could.
“hey,” he began, his voice soft yet steady, as if anchoring you in the storm of your own thoughts. that signature dimpled smile appeared, warm and reassuring, carrying a kindness that made your chest tighten. “no one’s perfect,” he said, his gaze locking with yours, as though he could see the weight of your regret. “it’s okay to have moments you wish you could take back. you don’t need to have it all figured out right now—just take it one step at a time, yeah? what matters is where you go from here, and i know you’ll choose the right path.”
his hand brushed against yours, grounding you further. “no matter what, nari and i will always be here. for you and minji. you’re not in this alone.”
you swallowed hard, his words cutting through the mess of emotions tangled in your chest. the sincerity in his voice, the unwavering warmth in his eyes—it was almost too much. you nodded slowly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.
“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. “i don’t even know if i deserve this kind of support... but it means everything. truly.”
your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve, the weight of his reassurance settling over you like a safety net. the corner of your lips lifted into the faintest smile, a flicker of gratitude breaking through your doubt. “and…thank you, yeollie. for always being here for us.”
he pulled you into a hug, the kind only chanyeol could give—one that made you feel like you were wrapped in the coziest, softest blanket on the coldest day. his size alone made it impossible not to feel safe, like he could shield you from the entire world.
"stay put," he murmured, his voice low and soothing against your hair. "i’ll go pick up the girls. how about we pick up a pizza on the way home? maybe a bottle of wine to go with it?"
you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up, the weight on your chest lifting just enough to let it out. "yeah... i’d like that. thanks, yeol."
he grinned as he stood, his steps sure and familiar as he moved to the fridge. the sound of the door opening and bottles clinking against each other filled the room. when he returned, he handed you one of the water bottles, twisting the cap off for you with ease.
"drink up," he said, flicking a finger gently under your chin to tilt your head up, a playful glint in his eyes. "don’t need you passing out on me from dehydration."
his teasing tone, coupled with the affection in his gesture, made your heart feel a little lighter. you took the bottle from him, your fingers brushing his briefly, and for the first time all day, you felt a spark of comfort.
later that night, minji lay tucked beneath her soft quilt, her favorite bunny held close to her chest. the warm glow of the nightlight painted her face in soft hues, the shadows dancing gently across her room like a lullaby. you leaned over her small form, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "i love you," you whispered, your voice a soothing murmur. "sleep tight, bun."
as your hand hovered over the light switch, her voice stopped you in your tracks, delicate yet filled with curiosity. "hey, mommy," she called, her tone innocent and thoughtful. "why does that doctor from earlier call you that, too?"
the question struck a chord deep within you, freezing you for a moment as your heart stumbled over itself. turning back toward her, you forced a smile, smoothing the sudden tension coiling in your chest. walking slowly to her bedside, you perched at the edge, meeting her wide, trusting eyes. "well," you started softly, your voice steady despite the fluttering unease within. "like dr. byun said, he's a really good friend of mine. that’s where i got your nickname, too."
her face lit up, her small smile so pure it made your heart ache. she nodded slowly, processing your words in that way only children can, her gaze thoughtful yet brimming with trust. "he was nice," she said, her tone sweet and certain. "i really liked him."
"yeah?" you asked, crouching down so your eyes were level with hers, the warmth of her sincerity wrapping around you like a blanket. her simple joy tugged at something tender within you. "would you like to see him again?"
her smile widened, blooming like the sun breaking through clouds. excitement sparkled in her eyes, her whole face lighting up in a way that mirrored her love for ice cream on hot afternoons. she nodded vigorously, her enthusiasm bubbling over.
"uh-huh!" she chirped, her joy infectious, spreading a flicker of warmth through your own heart.
you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and full of love. "okay, bunny," you said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, your voice tender. "sleep tight, 'kay?" you pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment, before turning off the light. the door clicked shut softly behind you.
standing in the hallway, your back against the cool wall, you let out a long, shaky breath, the weight of the day settling heavily in your chest. the silence was broken by a ping from your phone, pulling you out of your thoughts. you stared at the screen, the light illuminating your face as a new message appeared.
baekhyun:
thank you for today. let’s talk soon about how we move forward—together.
your chest tightened, the words settling over you like a heavy blanket. this was the beginning of something you hadn’t seen coming, something that made your pulse race with equal parts fear and exhilaration.
you responded quickly, almost without thinking:
you free tomorrow to go over details?
the path ahead was a little scary and clouded with uncertainty, but one thing was for sure: baekhyun was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
baekhyun and minji bonded quicker than you ever imagined. their first playdate was a sunny afternoon at the park, where baekhyun seemed completely absorbed in her. every giggle, every burst of energy as she dashed between slides and swings, every scrunched-nose smile lit up his face. it was as if he was trying to memorize every little detail about her, committing her essence to memory. minji, ever the social butterfly, welcomed him without hesitation—just as she did her classmates, her teachers, and even chanyeol.
chanyeol.
his name slipped into your thoughts uninvited, a shadow that tugged at your focus. why were you thinking about him now? you blinked hard, shaking the thought away. the last thing you needed was to let another layer of complication invade your already chaotic emotions.
then came that afternoon. baekhyun had come to drop minji off at your place, the usual familiarity of the moment interrupted by the unexpected. when the door swung open, it wasn’t you standing there—it was chanyeol.
“baekhyun, right?” chanyeol greeted him warmly, his easy smile bright enough to momentarily disarm. his dimple pressed deep into his cheek, as if it was carved there just for moments like this. snapping his fingers in playful recognition, he added, “i’ve heard so much about you.” he gestured casually over his shoulder, as if to invite baekhyun in. “i’m chanyeol. and that’s nari over there.”
baekhyun froze, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like an invisible force. for a split second, his expression faltered, eyes flickering to the cheerful little girl in the background, her laughter filling the air. then, his gaze shifted back to chanyeol, studying him with a quiet intensity. there was something unspoken in the air between them, subtle yet impossible to ignore—a tension that lingered like a low hum.
his eyes darted past chanyeol, chest tightening as they landed on you. you were seated on the floor, cross-legged, a radiant smile stretching across your face as you and nari played with minji’s toys. the sound of your laughter, bright and unguarded, hit him square in the chest, stirring something raw and vulnerable deep inside him. you looked so at ease, as if the joy spilling from you was effortless, untouched by the weight of the past.
“hi, chanyeol!” minji’s voice rang out, cutting through the fog of his thoughts. her tiny arms stretched toward the tall man, her excitement spilling over in a cheerful squeal.
chanyeol didn’t hesitate, scooping her up with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. “i missed you!” minji giggled, wrapping her small arms tightly around his neck.
“i missed you too, bun,” chanyeol replied with a wide grin, holding her close.
baekhyun’s stomach twisted, the word hitting him like a slap. bun. his nickname for her. no—their nickname. a sharp possessiveness surged through him, hot and consuming. did chanyeol call you that too? the thought crept in like a poison, making his jaw tighten. it was irrational, and yet it burned, carving out a hollow ache in his chest.
you stood then, walking toward them, your smile warm and glowing like the softest light. chanyeol still had minji perched on his hip, cradling her as if she were his own. he leaned in, planting an exaggerated, playful kiss on her cheek, earning a burst of delighted giggles from her.
the sound, the sight of it all—your ease, minji’s trust, chanyeol’s familiarity—brought baekhyun to the edge. his chest tightened, his breathing shallow, and for a brief, unsteady moment, he felt like he might collapse under the weight of it. the life he wanted was right in front of him, his life, and yet, it felt just out of reach.
“i missed you, bunny,” you murmured, your fingers tenderly brushing through her soft, dark hair. minji tilted her head up to you, her eyes glittering like tiny stars. then she turned to him, her small hand waving eagerly. “bye, baekhyun!” she chirped, her voice bright and pure, her little toothy grin so heartbreakingly innocent it nearly brought him to his knees.
baekhyun’s chest tightened, the pressure unbearable. how could something so sweet hurt so much?
you stepped closer, and for a fleeting moment, baekhyun forgot how to breathe. your smile was warm, easy, and devastatingly familiar—a smile that used to be his. it softened the tension hanging in the air, but to him, it cut deeper than any blade.
“thanks for picking her up from daycare,” you said, your voice gentle, almost apologetic. the sincerity in your tone slipped past every defense he’d tried to build since that day you walked back into his life. “did you wanna come inside for a bit? we usually do taco tuesdays with chanyeol and nari. you’re more than welcome to join us.”
your words were casual, but the invitation felt anything but. “i think it’d be great, actually,” you added, your voice bright with optimism. “since chanyeol’s been in minji’s life for a little over a year now.”
the floor seemed to tilt beneath him. his body stiffened, and a violent twist gripped his heart. chanyeol. a year. the words echoed mercilessly in his mind, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else. he wanted to tell you no, to scream it, to tell you he’d rather rip his chest open and claw his heart out than walk into that house and see the life you were building without him. a life that looked so perfect. a life where he was nothing but a footnote.
instead, he forced a smile—thin, hollow, the kind of smile that only deepened the cracks in his façade. it was nothing more than a mask, a feeble attempt to conceal the storm raging beneath his skin. “i’m actually in a hurry,” he said, the words stiff and unnatural as they stumbled off his tongue. “gotta get to the clinic.”
a lie, plain and simple. it came too easily, slipping past his lips like second nature. the instant it escaped, he felt the sick churn of regret twisting in his stomach, his voice betraying him with a clipped edge he couldn’t quite hide.
your head tilted slightly, confusion flickering across your face like a shadow. “didn’t you guys already close for the day?” you asked, your brows knitting together in that subtle way that always made his chest ache. “it’s past six.”
his pulse stuttered, a silent curse tumbling through his mind as he fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t shatter the fragile distance he was desperately clinging to. but nothing came. nothing convincing enough. nothing that didn’t feel like quicksand.
his feet shifted instinctively, retreating before his resolve could crumble further. “charts and prescriptions and... you know, stuff,” he mumbled, taking an awkward step back. “i’ll see you later.”
before you could say another word, he turned, walking briskly toward his car. his steps were measured, his pride refusing to let him break into a full-on sprint, even as his heart hammered like a war drum. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his lie and your confusion pressing down on him like a vice.
he didn’t dare look back. if he did, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to keep going.
from behind him, minji’s giggles rang out like music, the sound breaking through the thickness in the air. you were pressing playful kisses to her cheeks, your exaggerated smooches sending her into a fit of laughter.
it was almost too much. the scene—the two of you together, so natural, so perfect—made his knees weak. he gripped the handle of his car door and paused, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to look back. to stay.
but he didn’t. he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, leaving behind the ache that followed him everywhere you and minji weren’t.
as baekhyun drove away, his grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned a stark white. the image of you standing there with chanyeol and the two girls—your girls—seared into his mind, an indelible mark he couldn’t shake. you looked like a perfect family, like something pulled straight out of a dream. but for baekhyun, it was nothing short of a nightmare.
every mile he put between himself and your door pressed harder on the ache in his chest. his thoughts roared louder than the hum of the engine, drowning out everything but one relentless truth: that should’ve been me.
he couldn’t keep doing this—living in the fragile shell of a life that barely held him together. pretending he was fine without you, without minji. pretending that every day apart wasn’t hollow, wasn’t agony. each moment away from the two of you felt like a wound he couldn’t heal, the kind that gnawed at him constantly, leaving him restless and raw.
he dragged a trembling hand through his hair as the silence around him became unbearable. pacing the length of his living room later that night, his mind was still trapped back at your doorstep. he could hear your laugh echoing in his ears, the way it always lit up every corner of his world. the memory of your voice, soft and full of meaning, saying his name. minji’s tiny hands gripping his, her trust as effortless as her love. every memory sharpened the longing, the undeniable knowledge that you were his. you always had been. and yet, here he was—stuck in a life that felt like it belonged to someone else.
it wasn’t fair. not to him. not to you. and certainly not to her. the woman waiting for him at home, wearing the ring he had slipped onto her finger when he was too weak to face the truth. she deserved more. she deserved better. she deserved a man who wasn’t haunted by another woman’s smile, another child’s laughter.
his fists clenched at his sides as the weight of his choices bore down on him. guilt dug into him like a blade, twisting with every second. and yet, beneath it all, one truth burned brighter than anything else: he needed you. he needed you and minji, your warmth, your chaos, the life you had created without him.
he could feel it unraveling, the lie he was clinging to. every passing day stretched it thinner, threatening to snap. and when it did, he wasn’t sure what would be left of him—only that it wouldn’t be enough without you.
after a few more park playdates, you invited baekhyun over for dinner. when he arrived, he held two bouquets—one vibrant and blooming for you, and a smaller, delicate arrangement for minji.
minji’s face lit up as she clutched her flowers, her excitement spilling over as she helped baekhyun carefully arrange them in vases. you watched from the kitchen, your hands busy with dinner but your heart quietly swelling at the sight of them together.
dinner came and went in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. afterward, baekhyun insisted on helping clean up, minji trailing behind him like his little shadow. yet through it all, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered on you—soft, almost yearning. and every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.
you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself it was nothing. that the bouquet meant nothing. but your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat every time your eyes met. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, though you told yourself it was absurd. he’s engaged, you reminded yourself firmly. he’s in love with someone else. it’s not you anymore. it hasn’t been for years.
later, baekhyun offered to get minji ready for bed, his enthusiasm lighting up the room. he approached each part of her bedtime routine with such care—a playful splash during her bath, patient encouragement as she brushed her teeth, and a warm smile as he read her a bedtime story.
you stood in the hallway, listening to her giggles and his gentle voice, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name.
you walked back to the kitchen, the soft hum of the house wrapping around you as you reached for the wine bottle. the deep red liquid swirled as you poured it into two glasses, the rich aroma curling in the air. baekhyun had worked magic tonight, easing a rowdy toddler into sleep as if it were the simplest thing in the world. the image of him tucking minji in still lingered in your mind—a quiet smile on his face, his touch gentle but sure.
you thought about all the time you and minji had been spending with baekhyun lately felt like something out of a dream. it was everything you’d ever wished for but never thought you’d have. he slipped so seamlessly into her world, as if he’d always been there. their bond was undeniable—tickle fights that left her squealing with laughter, quiet moments where she leaned into him with absolute trust. watching them together only deepened the ache in your chest, the one that whispered how foolish you’d been to keep her from him for so long.
you told him as much one late afternoon, after a long stroll through the park. minji had fallen asleep in his arms, her little body spent from an afternoon of running through the playground while he chased her, pretending to be some silly monster. her tiny cheek squished against his shoulder, her breath soft and steady as she drooled onto his jacket. the two of you had laughed quietly, careful not to wake her.
“guess she’s making up for all the times it was you she drooled on instead,” he teased with a smirk, his voice warm and low.
it was in that fragile, golden moment that the words you’d been holding back tumbled out. “baekhyun, i... i’ve been feeling so awful. i’m not saying this for pity, i just—every time i see you with her, the guilt claws at me. i can’t believe i kept her from you for so long…i’m so sorry.”
your voice cracked, and then there were tears—hot, stinging, relentless.
baekhyun stopped in his tracks, his steps crunching against the gravel path as he gently grabbed your arm. his touch was firm but steady, grounding. he turned you to face him, his gaze steady, unwavering.
“hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. “what matters is now. and the future. i trust you, and i know you won’t keep her from me again. i’ve forgiven you... but maybe it’s time you forgave yourself.”
his words settled over you like a balm, soothing and unyielding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of your guilt began to feel a little lighter.
you’re pulled from your thoughts by the soft click of her bedroom door, the quiet shuffle of baekhyun’s steps filling the silence as he makes his way toward you. you know the sound of his walk so well, even after all these years. it’s comforting, familiar—the same measured rhythm, the same ease. in so many ways, he hasn’t changed. his laugh, his warm personality, the way his eyes crinkle into crescent moons when he smiles.
“she’s out,” he announces from the hallway, his voice soft but tinged with satisfaction as he spots you at the dining table.
you hand him the glass of wine you’d poured moments before, holding it out like a peace offering. “this is for all your hard work,” you tease, a light grin tugging at your lips.
he chuckles, the sound low and warm as he takes the glass from your hand, his fingers grazing yours for a fleeting second. the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, unexpected but unmistakable, and you quickly avert your gaze, staring down at the table like it holds all the answers.
he settles into the chair beside you, close enough that you can feel the faint warmth radiating from him. you sip your wine, trying to steady yourself, before speaking. “so... have you and soo talked about setting up a time to meet her?”
his face shifts at the mention of her name. the change is subtle but telling—a flicker of discomfort, the kind you can’t unsee once you notice it.
“yeah,” he says after a pause, his fingers fidgeting with the stem of the wine glass. he takes a sip before continuing, his tone quieter now. “i actually wanted to talk to you about her.”
your heart sinks, unease settling in your chest like a stone. “oh?” you ask, cautious. “is everything okay?”
the worst thoughts swirl in your mind, a storm of possibilities. maybe she doesn’t want baekhyun spending time with minji. maybe she’s uncomfortable with you being part of the equation.
he exhales sharply, his thumb brushing against the rim of the glass. “yeah... i mean, i guess.” there’s a pause, a weight to his words that makes you hold your breath. “the engagement’s been called off.” his voice is steady, almost too steady, as if rehearsed.
your jaw drops before you can stop it. the shock is written all over your face, and baekhyun winces at your reaction, his gaze darting away. you quickly compose yourself, snapping your mouth shut as heat rises to your cheeks. “what happened?” you blurt, the words spilling out before you can think twice. “you seemed... so happy.”
your voice falters, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped. the weight of your question lingers between you, heavy and unspoken, and you brace yourself for whatever comes next.
“i was. or... at least, i thought i was,” he says, his voice low and almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid to admit it even to himself. his hand moves to his hair, ruffling it in that familiar way he always did when the weight of his thoughts pressed too hard on him. a reflex, a habit you never forgot.
“and then you walked back into my life.” his voice is quiet, but there’s a rawness to it, like he’s pulling the words straight from the deepest part of him. your breath hitches, the air between you growing unbearably still as his gaze locks onto yours. there’s something in his eyes—something aching, desperate, like he’s trying to hold himself together while unraveling all at once.
“with her,” he continues, his voice breaking just enough to make your chest tighten, “this little girl who’s... everything. everything i didn’t know i was missing. she’s you and me, all tangled up in the most perfect way.” he swallows hard, his jaw clenching as though he’s fighting to steady himself. “and suddenly, nothing else makes sense anymore. not without you. not without her.”
the moment those words left his lips, the air seemed to shift. everything stilled—the hum of the world faded into silence, leaving only the thunderous echo of your heartbeat in your ears. had he really said that? the words hung between you, raw and unguarded, threatening to unravel everything you thought you understood.
his eyes searched yours, hesitant but resolute, as if willing you to see the truth in his gaze. when he spoke again, his voice softened, carrying a weight that made your breath hitch. “and the more time i spent with you both... the more i realized you’re what i want. you and minji. you’re what i really want in my life.”
his confession hit you with the force of a tidal wave, knocking the air from your lungs. you felt the ground tilt beneath you, the walls you’d carefully built around your heart quaking under the pressure of his words.
“baekhyun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your chest tightening as you forced yourself to ask, “are you… are you serious?”
but you already knew the answer. you could see it, clear as day, in the way his gaze didn’t waver.
“we can take our time… start slow,” baekhyun exhales, his voice carrying the weight of his confession as if it had been lodged in his chest for years. the vulnerability in his tone is raw, unguarded, and it almost makes you forget to breathe. “i mean… if that’s what you want, too.”
his words trail off, and for a moment, his usual confidence falters. a quiet doubt creeps into his thoughts—what if you’ve moved on? what if you don’t want this? the possibility churns in his mind, making him feel smaller, suddenly unsure.
“sorry,” he blurts out, shaking his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “i shouldn’t have said that—”
“no,” you interrupt, your voice firm but gentle, grounding him. your hand finds his, your fingers curling around his in a touch that feels achingly familiar, as though no time has passed. the warmth of his skin against yours sends a spark racing through your veins, a reassurance you didn’t realize you both needed.
he looks up, his eyes wide with hesitation, and you hold his gaze. “i’d… actually like that,” you admit, your voice softer now, a smile tugging at your lips. “start slow and see where we go.”
his shoulders visibly relax, and the faintest glimmer of hope flickers in his eyes. he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like the two of you are stepping into something whole and unbroken.
two weeks later, you stood in front of your closet, the door wide open and a growing pile of discarded clothes spilling onto the floor.
you were getting ready for a date.
with baekhyun.
your first date as parents.
the thought made your stomach flip with nerves and excitement. it felt surreal, almost like stepping into a story you didn’t dare dream for yourself. but as much as the idea of this new beginning thrilled you, the reality of your wardrobe—or lack thereof—was starting to feel like a nightmare.
minji was spending the evening with chanyeol and nari, her overnight bag already packed and slung over chanyeol’s shoulder when he came to pick her up. you couldn’t miss the way his expression shifted when you told him the reason for the favor, his smile faltering for the briefest second.
“it’s just dinner,” you’d explained softly. “we’re taking things slow, seeing where it goes.”
chanyeol had nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line. he couldn’t quite mask the pain in his eyes, though he tried.
“of course,” he’d said eventually, his voice steady despite the storm you could feel brewing beneath. “you know i’m always here for you…and minji.”
because that was just who chanyeol was—a steady, selfless anchor, even when it hurt.
now, as you tore through hangers and drawers, you glanced at your phone, a spike of panic shooting through you. less than two hours. how had the time slipped away so fast?
you groaned, flopping onto your bed as you stared at the heap of options that just weren’t right. nothing screamed ‘first date with the father of your child.’ nothing said ‘i’m nervous but excited and maybe a little terrified but i also want to look stunning.’
baekhyun.
you imagined the moment baekhyun would arrive, the image of him clear in your mind as if he were already standing at your door. he’d look effortlessly polished, the way only he could manage—like he’d stepped out of a magazine without even trying. his shirt would probably hug his lean frame just right, the soft fabric teasing at the lines of his shoulders and chest. his hair, always perfectly imperfect, would fall into place with a casualness that made you suspect he’d only run his fingers through it once before heading out.
and then there were his eyes—those warm, honeyed depths that had a way of making the world feel quieter, smaller. they carried a quiet determination now, a depth that hadn’t always been there, like the years apart had reshaped him, sharpened his focus. you could almost see the subtle tilt of his lips when he caught sight of you, a smile that wasn’t overly practiced but natural, like it belonged there because you did.
he never needed much time to get ready, and yet he always looked like he did. that was the thing about baekhyun—everything about him was easy, seamless, like he existed in his own effortless rhythm. it wasn’t about the clothes he chose or the way he styled his hair; it was about the energy he carried, the quiet confidence that drew people in.
and tonight, he’d be coming to pick you up—not just as the baekhyun you’d known before, but as someone determined to start fresh, someone who wanted to show you that maybe, just maybe, this could really work out.
you exhaled deeply, steadying yourself as you slid off the bed. pull it together, you thought, brushing your curled hair out of your face. tonight wasn’t just another evening—it felt like the start of something new, something tentative and hopeful, and you wanted to look the part. not just for baekhyun, but for yourself. you wanted to feel like the best version of you—the woman you were before, and the woman you were becoming.
your eyes drifted toward the top of your closet, where an old, forgotten box rested among stacks of seasonal items and spare blankets. a spark of hope flickered. you vaguely remembered stuffing your pre-pregnancy clothes up there, unable to let them go but convinced they might never fit again. now, that box felt like a treasure chest waiting to be rediscovered.
grabbing a step ladder, you climbed carefully, brushing the thick layer of dust from the box’s lid before tugging it down. a cloud of nostalgia seemed to escape as you peeled it open. there they were—rows of fabrics, textures, and memories you hadn’t touched in years. silky blouses, form-fitting dresses, sleek skirts... all the outfits you used to wear when going out felt like a second skin.
you sifted through them, piece by piece, fingers grazing over familiar fabrics as your heart swelled with a mix of apprehension and excitement. you pulled out a sleek dress, holding it up against yourself in the mirror. to your delight—and a little disbelief—it still fit, hugging your post-pregnancy curves in ways that made you feel both proud and beautiful.
you were finishing the last touches on your hair and makeup when the doorbell rang, slicing through the air like a sudden jolt. a flutter of butterflies stirred in your stomach, their wings beating furiously as nerves surged through you all at once. instinctively, you reached for your perfume, spritzing it lightly over your neck, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a soft, comforting embrace.
you took a long, steadying breath, eyes tracing your reflection in the mirror, checking every detail—the delicate curve of your lashes, the soft glow of your skin, the way your lips curved just right. you stepped back, allowing yourself a moment to really see the woman in front of you. had it really been so long since you dressed up like this? for anyone? the question lingered in the air.
and then it hit you, clear as day. it had been since baekhyun. a quiet chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head, bemused by the realization. there was something about tonight that felt different, something about this moment, this new chapter, that made everything feel... significant.
with a final glance at your reflection, you straightened up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you walked toward the door, each step a little more deliberate, a little more full of purpose. this wasn’t just a date. this was something else entirely.
when the door swung open and baekhyun saw you, his breath hitched, the air suddenly too thick to pull into his lungs. his gaze swept over you, deliberate and slow, as if his mind needed time to register every curve, every detail, every shimmer of the fabric that clung to you. his heart thundered in his chest, a wild rhythm he couldn’t control, and for a moment, all he could do was stare.
you were devastating. the dress—that dress—hugged you perfectly, its soft sheen catching the dim hallway light, every subtle movement making it seem alive, as though it had been designed for this exact moment. it was the same one you’d worn before, in a memory he kept locked away for years. back then, you’d twirled in front of him, laughing, your joy so infectious it had carved itself into his soul. seeing it again now, seeing you now, was almost too much.
but this wasn’t just a walk down memory lane. this wasn’t then. everything was different now—he was different, you were different. yet, somehow, that pull between you felt as raw and undeniable as it had the first time he’d laid eyes on you.
except now, you weren’t just the girl he’d loved with everything in him, the girl he’d lost, the girl he thought he’d never have again. you were minji’s mother. his daughter’s mother. and seeing you like this—so stunning it almost hurt—sent a new kind of longing through him. it wasn’t just want, though god, he wanted you. it was need, aching and all-consuming, a yearning that went far beyond physical desire. he needed to prove himself, to prove that he could be more for you, for minji. that this time, he wouldn’t let you slip away.
his hands twitched at his sides, desperate to reach for you, to touch, to hold, to pull you close enough to feel the warmth of your body against his. the temptation was staggering, nearly unbearable. his mind flickered with flashes of all the ways he wanted you—how it would feel to bury his face in your neck, to whisper promises against your skin, to hear you say his name like you used to.
but he held himself back, swallowing hard, locking it all down. not now. he couldn’t rush this. he couldn’t risk ruining it.
when his eyes met yours, his lips curved into the softest of smiles, one that didn’t quite mask the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. “you…” he paused, his voice catching before he found it again. “you look incredible.” the words came out low, steady, but there was no mistaking the weight behind them.
for a brief second, his eyes dropped back to the dress, his mind betraying him with an image of it lying forgotten on the floor, of you in his arms, of everything he was fighting to keep at bay. the thought made his chest tighten, and he let out a soft chuckle, as if to diffuse the tension he felt coiled so tightly within him.
but he didn’t move. not yet. instead, he let the moment stretch, imagining the day when he wouldn’t have to hold back, when he wouldn’t have to hesitate. when he could love you the way he wanted to—completely, without fear, without doubt, without restraint.
after dinner, the two of you strolled back to your place, the night humming with the warmth of shared laughter and lingering glances. the soft glow of streetlights cast a golden sheen over everything, making the world feel dreamlike, almost suspended in time. the wine coursing through your veins made the air lighter, the edges of reality softer, as though nothing truly mattered except the man walking beside you.
when you reached the door, your fingers fumbled with the keys, the metal slipping awkwardly in your grasp. you giggled, a sound so sweet it made baekhyun’s chest tighten. he stood behind you, his presence warm and steady, his hands gently finding their way to your waist. his touch was light, but it burned in the most delicious way.
“need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, his breath grazing your ear as he leaned closer.
you turned your head just slightly, your smile playful. “please,” you murmured, trying—and failing—to mask the way his closeness made your pulse quicken.
together, you managed to coax the door open, his hand guiding yours with a deliberate slowness that made you shiver. once inside, he closed the door behind him with a quiet click, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the space.
“nightcap?” you asked, your tone casual, though the mischief in your eyes betrayed you. your cheeks were warm, not just from the wine but from the way his gaze lingered, heavy and intent.
baekhyun didn’t answer right away. his eyes stayed locked on you, tracing the curve of your cheek, the way your lips curled into that familiar, teasing grin. his gaze dipped lower, lingering on the dress that clung to you like a second skin. that dress. the one he couldn’t stop thinking about all night, the one he wanted to peel off you with his teeth.
he swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep himself in check. the air between you thickened, crackling with an unspoken tension. he took a slow, deliberate step closer, the movement barely noticeable, but the way his eyes darkened said everything his lips couldn’t.
“yeah,” he finally murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges. “a nightcap sounds good.”
but it wasn’t the drink he wanted. no, the only thing he wanted was standing right in front of him, flushed and radiant, looking at him with eyes that could undo him in a heartbeat. every instinct screamed at him to close the space, to kiss you breathless, to pull you into him and never let go. but he didn’t. not yet. he was holding onto a thread of control, as thin and fragile as the air between you.
for now, he could wait. but god, you were making it impossible.
he could barely hold himself together, his self-control stretched thinner with each passing second. honestly, he deserved an award—no, a damn medal—for the composure he managed to keep throughout dinner. every moment was its own quiet war, every glance from you a calculated blow, every soft laugh a fatal shot to his already fragile defenses. your presence was a sweet, maddening intoxication, pulling him under in waves he couldn’t escape.
the way you looked at him—those eyes full of something gentle, something tender, something that felt like home—was almost his undoing. his fingers curled tightly against his thighs, his knuckles blanching as he fought the urge to reach for you. your smile, radiant and unguarded, had him aching in ways he thought he’d forgotten, stirring something raw and desperate in the pit of his stomach. and your voice—god, your voice—danced through the air, warm and melodic, like the first song he’d ever loved.
and then there were those moments when you looked at him, really looked at him. it was in the softness of your gaze, the way it lingered a second too long, the way it stripped him bare without a single word. it was as if you still saw him—truly saw him—the way you used to, back when you were his. that look, full of unspoken truths, clung to him like an echo, whispering things he didn’t dare hope for. you still love me. you still love me. the thought struck like lightning, leaving him dazed and breathless, his pulse thundering in his ears.
his chest tightened with the weight of it all—the yearning, the disbelief, the sheer impossibility of the moment. it was as though everything that had gone wrong, all the time that had stretched between you, suddenly dissolved, rendered meaningless in the face of this. it was just the two of you now, the world fading into a blurry background, holding its breath as if waiting for him to do what every fiber of his being screamed for: close the distance.
the need was relentless, searing through him like fire. his fingers twitched with the urge to touch you, to cradle your face in his hands and trace the contours of your cheek, to see if your skin still felt as soft as he remembered. his lips burned with the craving to kiss you, to taste the laughter that had tormented him all night, to claim the love he had been starving for since the day you walked away.
it had been almost four agonizing years since you left him behind, taking the light of his world with you. he thought he’d buried the pain, that he’d learned to live with the emptiness you left. but now, here you were, so close he could hear the rhythm of your breaths, feel the warmth radiating from your skin. and he realized with a clarity that stole the air from his lungs: none of that pain mattered anymore. not the silence, not the heartbreak, not the years. all that mattered was you—here, now, in front of him.
his breath hitched at the thought, and he found himself imagining what it would feel like when he finally kissed you again. his lips hovering just inches from yours, the space between you crackling with tension. he could already feel the pull, that same magnetic connection that had always been there, waiting for the moment he could touch you. and when their lips finally met, he knew—he knew—it would be just like before. that same sweetness, that same softness, the curve of your lips fitting perfectly against his, like you were always meant to belong to him.
no one had ever kissed him the way you did. no one else had ever left him breathless, drowning in the intensity of it, as if your kiss had the power to remake him. and god, he wanted it again. needed it.
he wanted you, wanted you so badly, the need pooling in his chest, a hot, tight ache he couldn’t ignore. he could already taste you, feel the warmth of your lips beneath his. he remembered how your kiss had once made him feel weightless, like he was falling into something beautiful, intoxicating. it was all he’d thought about the entire night.
and the way you looked now, that dress clinging to you like it had all those years ago, just made him ache even more. he couldn’t stop the images running through his mind—ripping it off of you, feeling your body pressed against his, tasting the sweetness of your kiss once again, just like he had done so many times before. the desire to feel you underneath him, to bury himself in the softness of you, was almost unbearable. he wanted it. he wanted you.
but instead, he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “yeah,” he breathed, his voice thick with barely contained longing, “yeah, a nightcap sounds good.”
his fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to touch you, but he held himself back, feeling the heat rise between you both, a tension so thick it was almost unbearable.
"here, let me pour the drinks for us," he murmured, his voice low and steady as he took your jacket and purse, hanging them with a quiet care on the coat rack.
you raised an eyebrow, teasing, "oh?" the corners of your lips twitched, fighting back a smile as you bit your bottom lip. your lashes fluttered lightly, casting delicate shadows across your cheeks as you met his gaze. "i’m just getting spoiled tonight, aren’t i?" you teased, the memory of how he'd practically wrestled the check from your hands earlier still fresh in your mind. it made you laugh softly, a sound that seemed to melt into the air.
but before you could say anything more, he was there, his hand coming up instinctively to cup your cheek. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, his thumb brushing lightly against the softness of your skin, tracing the curve of your cheek, your chin, and finally resting just below your lower lip. his touch was so gentle, so deliberate, and yet it stirred something deeper inside you—a quiet yearning that you were both trying to contain.
you met his eyes, searching his face, knowing the unspoken truth before he even voiced it. you could see it—the way his gaze lingered, the way his breath hitched just slightly as he studied you. he wanted to kiss you. you could feel the tension rising, thick and palpable between you, but still, he held back, the weight of restraint pressing on him.
not wanting to push him, you offered him a sweet, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of understanding without words. the sight of it seemed to stop him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat.
baekhyun’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “spoiled?” he echoed, leaning in just slightly, enough for his voice to drop a fraction, rich and smooth. “c’mon, bun, i’m sure you remember what me spoiling you really looks like.”
his words hit like a soft nudge to a locked door, memories rushing in before you could stop them. you remembered the way he used to spoil you relentlessly back in college, how his love language seemed to be written in lavish gifts and thoughtful gestures. designer handbags you could never justify buying for yourself, delicate jewelry that always seemed to match the sparkle in his eyes when he fastened the clasps himself.
he’d surprise you with new outfits for events you didn’t even know you’d be attending until he planned them—your wardrobe practically transformed by his generosity. every time the newest iphone dropped, he’d make sure it was in your hands within days, complete with a customized case he knew you’d love. he’d slip his card to waiters or store clerks before you could even think to pay.
and then there were the practical things, like covering your car payments or arranging maintenance before you even realized you needed it, his way of taking care of you without ever making you feel small for it. he never wanted you to stress, and you’d laugh at the absurdity of it all while secretly melting at the way he seemed to know what you needed before you did.
baekhyun had money. plenty of it. his family’s wealth wasn’t something he flaunted, but it was there, shaping the way he provided for you. your family wasn’t poor, but you didn’t have the same financial ease. you worked hard for the things you had, but baekhyun never made you feel less than, never made you uncomfortable about it. his quiet humility and the way he never flaunted his wealth made it all feel normal—money was never the issue. it was always about the love you shared.
you swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck as you met his gaze again. his eyes were on you now, softer but still teasing, as if he could tell exactly where your thoughts had gone. “besides” he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “i’m just making up for lost time. can you blame me?”
one glass turned into two, then three, each sip loosening the tension in the air, but also building something new between you, something heady and electric. laughter spilled from your lips, the sound light and careless, but underneath it, a growing warmth that neither of you could ignore. the night seemed to blur around the edges, the wine clouding your thoughts, making everything softer, more daring.
the bottles emptied one by one, their presence a witness to the hours that had melted away as you lingered in each other’s company. the glasses tipped over, forgotten, their contents pooling on the floor like spilled memories. it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except the way he looked at you—intensely, as if every part of him was drawn to you in a way that left him no choice but to pull you closer.
and then, he kissed you.
it was slow at first, almost tentative, like he was relearning the shape of your lips, the rhythm of your breath. but it didn’t stay that way for long. in an instant, the kiss deepened, the years of separation melting into a blur of heat and urgency. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer—closer, until you were climbing into his lap, your legs straddling him without hesitation.
his mouth was scorching, addictive, just like you remembered. it was the taste of him, rich like wine but unmistakably him—a flavor you thought you’d buried, but now you realized you could never forget. his kisses were messy, hungry, each one leaving you breathless as soft moans and breathless whimpers slipped between you. his hands roamed with purpose, sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you flush against him. his grip was firm, possessive, so achingly familiar that it made your head spin.
you felt the growing bulge beneath you, hard and urgent, straining against his pants. the pressure sent a sharp jolt of need straight to your core, igniting a fire you couldn’t ignore. warmth pooled between your legs, soaking you as your hips rocked instinctively against him. a deep, guttural groan escaped him, vibrating against your lips as you kissed him harder, hungrier.
“i missed you,” you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips as they traveled to the curve of his neck. you nipped at the sensitive skin below his ear, the spot you knew drove him wild. sure enough, a soft, desperate moan spilled from him, and you smiled against his skin, savoring the sound of him unraveling beneath you.
"i love you, bun," he whispered, his voice soft yet heavy with meaning, a tremor of raw emotion in every word. his gaze, unwavering and intense, locked onto yours, as if he could reach inside you with just a look. his lips brushed yours, so lightly it almost felt like a delicate promise. "i... i don’t think i ever stopped."
the words crashed into you, like a wave breaking against the shore, unexpected yet inevitable. your heart skipped, breath caught in your chest as the depth of his confession wrapped around you, pulling you under. "i love you, too, baekhyun," you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but steady—anchored in the truth that had always been there, buried beneath the years of silence. "i never stopped."
and then, his lips were on yours again, and it was as if the world snapped back into place, the pieces aligning with the force of your shared confession. finally, it felt like home. like you were where you were always meant to be. your body responded instinctively, moving closer, desperate to feel the heat that had always simmered between you two. you ground against him, slow, deliberate, an aching need rising in you both. the friction between you sent jolts of electricity through your veins, a fire sparking to life as you felt him tense beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips.
for a brief moment, you thought he'd pull you in fully, lose himself in the moment as much as you were. but instead, his body went rigid, stilling beneath you as if every muscle had locked in place.
"wait—" his voice cracked, the sound thick with a dangerous mix of yearning and restraint. his hands stilled your movements, holding you in place. you could feel his chest rise and fall beneath you, shallow breaths betraying the storm inside him. "i don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. i know we agreed to take things slow. i can wait."
his words cut through the haze of your desire, stopping you dead in your tracks. the sincerity in his eyes hit you like a tidal wave. he was holding back—for you.
for you.
the ache in your chest was sharp, but in the best possible way.
without saying a word, you reached down, sliding his hand beneath your dress, guiding him to where you were already burning. his breath caught when his fingers brushed against your bare skin. his eyes widened, shock crossing his features as he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.
"feel how wet you’ve made me?" you whispered, your lips grazing his ear, your voice low, sultry, teasing. the way his chest moves as his breathing becomes more deeper, heavier as if it’s taking everything in him not to put his fingers to work on that sloppy cunt of yours. you could feel his restraint fraying, and you couldn’t help but smile.
"still think i wanna take things slow?" you teased, your thumb tracing the curve of his bottom lip, urging him to act.
you could feel his body tremble under your touch, his hands shaking slightly as he adjusted, his fingers just barely grazing where you needed him most. the hunger in his eyes was almost unbearable, and you leaned in closer, brushing your lips over his jaw, waiting for him to break.
his composure shattered. his eyes fluttered shut as you brought his slick-coated fingers to your mouth, your tongue swirling around them slowly, deliberately. the taste of yourself on him was heady, and you sucked his fingers clean, the act sending a shiver down his spine.
“fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with hunger. “ya sure about this, bun?” each syllable a desperate plea as his restraint teetered dangerously close to breaking.
you nodded, eyes wide and shimmering with a mix of innocence and promise. your lashes fluttered like the softest caress as you looked up at him, lips swollen and bruised from his fevered kisses, a delicate pout lingering on them. the sight of made his dick twitch. “always been sure when it comes to you, baek.”
the words hit him like a wave, and with a shuddering sigh, he couldn’t hold back anymore. his lips crashed against yours, possessive and hungry, claiming you as if he’d never get another chance. one arm wrapped around your head, fingers threading through your hair with a desperate need, while the other hand slid to your ass, squeezing it roughly. his grip tightened, a subtle warning, but you could feel the way his muscles strained, the raw tension in his touch. every press of his fingers into your skin felt like a brand, like he was marking you, anchoring himself to you. his touch was a blaze, a wildfire that scorched you in the best way, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear an inch of distance.
and then the world tilted.
with a surge of power and urgency, he lifted you without hesitation—strong, commanding, as though he was claiming you in the most primal of ways. a breathless gasp escaped your lips, the sound of surprise barely escaping before his hands cradled you, holding you as if you were made of something more fragile than glass. he held you with reverence, but there was an edge to it, a possessiveness that promised he would never let you go.
his breath is heavy against your neck, warm and uneven, betraying the restraint he’s barely holding onto. your body is pressed tightly to his chest, his heart pounding against yours, every beat echoing the unspoken promises that linger in the air. each step he takes toward your bedroom is deliberate, charged, as though the distance is unbearable, as if he can’t get you there fast enough.
"shit," he muttered, his voice rough and low as he lowered you onto the edge of your bed. the realization hit him like a tidal wave, cold and relentless, stealing his focus. his gaze flickered to yours, a storm of panic swirling in his eyes. “i didn’t bring any condoms. do you… do you have any?”
his question lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, cutting deeper than the surface. the knot in his stomach tightened, the thought of someone else touching you during the time apart clawing at his insides. he hated the idea more than he cared to admit.
your laughter cut through the tension, soft but laced with something playful, a gentle ring that seemed to fill the space between you. "no, baek," you replied, your voice a breathless melody. "i haven’t had sex—well, any action, really—since you." the confession slipped out before you could stop it, and though a blush bloomed on your cheeks, you held his gaze. there was a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes, but it only made his heart race faster.
his breath hitched audibly, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. his heartbeat thundered in his ears, his chest rising and falling with the weight of your words. “you’re serious?” he whispered, disbelief laced with something else—pride. his lips curved upward into a slow, cocky grin, the kind that made your stomach flip. the thought of you untouched by anyone else since him fed something primal, something possessive.
you nodded, your teeth sinking into your lip like you were weighing the impact of your words. embarrassment rushed to your neck, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his stare. it burned through you, molten and unwavering, making your heart thrum harder with every passing second.
“fuck,” he rasped, the word almost guttural, like he couldn’t contain the surge of raw emotion. it was your turn to smile, a cocky glint lighting up your eyes. but when he spoke again, the weight of his confession hit you harder than you expected.
"i haven’t gone raw in anyone since you."
the words hung heavy in the air, suffocating with meaning. the way he said it, so casually, like it was a fact that only made sense in the world he had built around you, made your pulse spike. it was everything—the promise, the truth. your knees weakened at the depth of his gaze, molten like a fire you couldn’t escape.
"d’ya trust me, bun?" he whispered, voice low, the words slipping from his lips with a possessive kind of hunger.
you swallowed thickly, your breath coming out uneven, heart pounding in your throat. your pulse raced, and despite the weight of his question, you somehow found your voice, breathless and full of raw honesty.
“with my life.”
his lips curled into that signature, boyish grin that had always undone you, a glint of mischief dancing in his darkened eyes.
without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his hands brushing the smooth, delicate skin of your arms before they drifted to the zipper at your back. in one seamless motion, his fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling your dress down with a fluid grace that seemed almost too effortless, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. the fabric slid off you like a memory, slipping to the floor as he guided you back onto the pillows, leaving you bare under the weight of his gaze.
his breath faltered as he drank you in, his eyes tracing every inch of your skin, the intensity of his hunger for you pressing against him like an ache that made his chest tighten. "god," he breathed out, the word barely escaping his lips as if he was speaking to himself more than to you, his hands gently exploring your exposed body like he was memorizing it, as though each touch could never be repeated.
but then it came—the surge of insecurity, creeping in from the edges of your mind like a dark cloud, unwelcome and cold. without thinking, you crossed your arms over your body, your hands instinctively covering the soft curves you’d learned to live with, but had never quite come to accept.
baekhyun saw it instantly. the shift in you, the way you tried to pull away, to hide. his expression softened, his gaze darkening with understanding as he stepped closer. his voice, low and steady, was a balm to your wounded confidence. “don’t you ever feel the need to hide from me,” he murmured, each word laced with an unspoken promise. his hands were gentle, yet firm, as he took hold of your wrists, slowly guiding them away from your body and placing them at your sides. the weight of his touch was reassuring, a silent command for you to trust him, to trust that he saw you—all of you—and that was all he wanted.
his touch was almost ethereal, like a whisper against your skin. his fingertips grazed the curve of your breasts, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. “bigger,” he murmured, the word thick with admiration, as if discovering something new about you—something he’d always known he wanted. his hands traveled lower, tracing the lines of your waist, feeling the soft expansion of your hips beneath his palms.
when his fingers brushed over the subtle stretch marks on your ass, a low, guttural groan escaped him, the sound vibrating through the air between you. his body tensed, his desire unmistakable, radiating off of him in waves. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he said, his gaze never leaving the soft, inviting shape of your body, as if memorizing every inch of you.
his hand drifted to your stomach, his finger moving with slow deliberation, drawing a path down the center of your abdomen, a slow, torturous line that set your nerves alight. “you’re gonna feel me,” he rasped, his voice husky, the words carrying a weight of promise. his thumb pressed gently into the sensitive skin just above your belly button, sending a shiver spiraling through your body. “right here,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours—dark, smoldering, intense with intent.
the teasing, the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something intoxicating—it was too much. your hands clenched at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, the need to feel him overwhelming. without a second thought, your lips crashed against his, urgent and desperate. the kiss was hungry, frantic, your mouths pressing against each other as you fumbled with the fabric of his clothes, your body burning for more.
his laugh rumbled against your lips, the sound low and rich as he pulled back just enough to smirk down at you. “eager, aren’t we?”
you didn’t miss a beat, your fingers working at his waistband as you bit back, “just wanna see if you still know how to fuck me properly.”
his laugh deepened, full and throaty, as he shoved his boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock. “glad to see that smart mouth of yours hasn’t changed, bun,” he said, his grin wicked. he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “i’ma have fun puttin’ it to good use later.”
your breath hitched, your heart pounding in anticipation as he pressed closer, the weight of his words and his presence igniting every nerve in your body.
he positions himself at your entrance, and your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding so hard you can feel it echo in your ears. the heat radiating from him, the subtle brush of his skin against yours, sends a shiver rippling through your body. his tip, swollen and leaking, nudges against you, dragging slowly through your wetness, teasing with a precision that makes your toes curl.
he lingers at your entrance, just barely pressing in before retreating, spreading his precum and your slick together in a maddening rhythm. the sensation of his velvety tip gliding over your folds, grazing your clit, sends jolts of pleasure through your core. every deliberate movement feels like a silent taunt, a reminder of how much he’s savoring this moment—savoring you.
“baek, please,” you whimper, your voice trembling, desperate. your fingers clutch the sheets beneath you, nails digging in as if grounding yourself could somehow stave off the overwhelming need building inside you. tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as the relentless teasing pushes you closer to the edge of begging.
his own restraint is fraying, evident in the way his breath hitches, the way his hands tremble slightly as they grip your hips. he leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes smoldering with a mix of lust and longing. “oh— fffuuuccck, i missed you,” he groans, his voice strained, thick with emotion and need.
his words barely register before he begins to push in, his throbbing tip stretching you inch by agonizing inch. the sensation of him filling you—so warm, so familiar yet impossibly intense—forces a soft gasp from your lips. he exhales sharply, his jaw clenched, savoring every second, every sensation, as though this moment is the only thing that matters in the world.
baekhyun’s gaze flickers to your face, catching the faint wince that creases your features, gone as quickly as it came, but not quick enough to escape him. his brows knit together, his concern palpable, etched into the soft lines of his expression. he stays perfectly still, his body taut with restraint, as if afraid to move and hurt you. the stretch stings, yes, but there’s something deeper beneath it—a delicious burn that ignites every nerve, leaving you teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure.
“baby, you good?” his voice is low, soft, a husky murmur that wraps around you like the warmest comfort, his tone threading worry with tenderness, his concern a steady anchor in the haze between you. his dark eyes search yours, flickering with a mix of restraint and hunger, like he’s balancing on the precipice of losing control but refusing to let it happen until you’re ready.
you nod, though your breath catches, a sharp inhale that betrays the lingering ache as you will yourself to adjust. you shift your hips slightly, testing, feeling the stretch give way to something deeper, something raw that tugs at your core and sets your pulse hammering.
he groans, low and guttural, a sound dragged from the depths of his chest as he feels you take him in just a little more. his breath stutters, breaking like a thread pulled too tight, his hands flexing where they rest on your hips. the sharp ache dissolves into heat, into a magnetic pull you can’t resist. his reaction tells you he’s just as wrecked as you are, caught in the unbearable tension of holding back when everything about this moment demands he let go.
baekhyun’s exhale shudders, his head tipping back as his grip on your hips tightens just enough to remind you of his control. “fuck,” he rasps, the word rough and shaky, his voice carrying a mix of awe and restraint. “i missed the way you feel around me.”
his words send a ripple of heat through you, raw and unfiltered, a confession of just how much you’re undoing him. his fingers dig into your skin, grounding him, though his gaze never strays from yours. the tension coils tighter with every passing second, his dark eyes blazing with something possessive, something unrelenting, as though he’s holding back the storm brewing just beneath the surface.
your need burns hotter, desperation clawing its way to the forefront. “baekhyun—,” you beg, the words tumbling out before you can catch them. “please... just hurry up and fuck me.”
the plea comes out shaky, your voice trembling with want, and for a moment, you feel utterly exposed. but the effect on him is instant. his lips curl into a slow, wicked smile, his expression one of pure, devastating control as if that's all he needed to hear. “as you wish, sweetheart,” he grunts, his voice thick with promise and unrestrained desire.
his hands tighten their hold on your hips, strong and commanding, as he shifts his position. with a flex of his arms, he lifts you with effortless strength, your body rising until you can feel the head of his cock stretching you once more. the tension builds, unbearable and heady, before he slams you down onto him in one fluid motion.
the force of it steals the breath from your lungs, the intensity of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limit. the sound that escapes you is ragged, a cry of pleasure that seems to echo in the air between you. baekhyun’s growl rumbles low in his chest, primal and rough, as his hips meet yours, bottoming out with a precision that leaves you trembling.
his movements are deliberate yet feral, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, his hands never leaving your body as if anchoring you to him. his need is palpable, pouring out in every motion, every flex of his muscles as he claims you with an intensity that sets every nerve ending alight.
“ya feel so fuckin’ perfect,” he groans against your skin, the words muffled but soaked in reverence as his lips press to your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach. every motion, every sound, every touch pulls you deeper into him, blurring the lines between where you end and he begins.
he missed you. god, every inch of him missed you. it’s like his cock remembers every curve, every slick ridge of your walls, molding to him perfectly. and of course, he lets you know, his voice breaking into a string of desperate confessions. “f-fuck… m’sorry. ya squeezin’ me so tight. i think ‘m gonna cum soon hah– and ‘m gonna fuck it right back into this perfect—ngh—cunt.”
“hah—baek,” you whine, your voice trembling as you fully surrender to him. your body rocks helplessly in rhythm with his relentless thrusts, his cock plunging so deep it leaves you gasping. “s-so deep—hngh… can feel you here—” your hand snakes down, guiding his to press against your stomach, right where the swollen head of his cock is relentlessly hitting that devastatingly sweet spot.
his breath hitches, a low, disbelieving laugh huffing out as his fingers press into your skin. “fuck,” he groans, his eyes dark with lust, fixed on you, utterly wrecked beneath him. his hand is on top of the other as they press down over the slight bulge where he’s buried so deeply inside you. “feel that, baby? that’s me… stretching this pretty pussy out so good.”
his words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and it’s too much—all of it, the weight of him, the filthy praise falling from his lips, the way his hands grip you like you’re something precious, even as he loses himself in you.
“baek—oh god!” your cry echoes through the room as your body shatters beneath him, the first orgasm of the night ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. his lips crash against yours, swallowing your desperate moans as his hand moves lower, fingers finding your clit in quick, precise circles. the overstimulation sends sparks shooting through your veins, the pleasure stretching, elongating, as he coaxes every last wave from you.
“that’s it—hah. cum for me angel,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice softening even as his hips keep their punishing rhythm, chasing his own release. “y'so perfect, baby. nngghh—so fuckin' perfect for me…and finally mine again.”
“been y-yours,” you hiss, dragging out the word as his crazed tip whacks itself against your sensitive spot. again, again, and again—he’s hitting against that same spot as if it were a target and he never misses. his frantic hits against your core causes your toes to curl and your back to arch even further as you’re slowly being brought closer to your orgasmic, teetering edge. “ffuuck! ‘m cumming again, baek, cumming.”
your release crashes over you like a tidal wave, sweeping you into a realm that feels like heaven itself. your body gives out beneath the intensity, collapsing back against the mattress as baekhyun hovers over you, his breath hot and heavy. his tongue trails a slick, wet path down the curve of your neck, his touch a sinful mix of reverence and hunger as you unravel completely beneath him.
baekhyun’s body is pressed flush against yours, his every movement slow yet calculated, like he’s savoring each second, each inch, as if the world might steal you away from him again. the heat of his skin seeps into yours, the sheer intensity in his dark, lidded eyes making it impossible to look away. his breath is ragged, the sound mingling with the soft gasps spilling from your lips, the two of you lost in a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing.
“please,” he rasps, his voice cracking, raw with emotion. his forehead presses to yours, the touch grounding and desperate as he sinks deeper, his hips stuttering like the closeness of you is too much, too overwhelming to contain. “please, don’t fuckin’ leave me again.”
his words linger, heavy and aching, filling the space between you with the weight of every unspoken hurt, every moment lost. his fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your skin as though the feel of you beneath him is the only thing tethering him to reality. his thrusts grow erratic, uneven, each movement betraying the fragility of his control.
“nggghh—i think...” his voice falters, a low groan spilling from his lips as he buries his face into the curve of your neck. his mouth grazes your skin, reverent, desperate, the ghost of his breath hot and trembling against you. “i think i’ll die if you do. god, i can’t—i can’t spend another fuckin’ day without you.”
your heart clenches painfully, his vulnerability cutting straight through you like a blade. his body trembles against yours, every inch of him straining to keep you close, to pour everything he feels into the spaces between you. your fingers find their way into his hair, threading through the damp strands as you tug gently, coaxing him to meet your gaze.
his eyes lift, dark and glassy, brimming with emotion so unguarded it threatens to undo you. devotion, fear, yearning—they’re all there, laid bare and unfiltered.
“baekhyun,” you whisper, your voice a delicate tremor, barely audible over the shared gasps of breath between you. your hands cradle his face, fingertips brushing over the damp strands of his hair as if trying to ground him, to ground yourself, in this fragile, fleeting moment. “’m not going anywhere. i’m here... i’m yours. we’re yours.”
his breath catches, shuddering under the weight of your words, and a sound—fragile, broken—escapes him. he surges forward, pulling you closer, deeper, until it feels like he’s trying to fuse your souls together, to erase every inch of space between you. his thrusts are slower now, deliberate, every roll of his hips steeped in something more than desire—something raw and sacred, like a plea, a promise, an apology all at once.
your body arches into his, a guttural whine ripping from your throat as his cock pulses within your walls, stretching, filling, consuming. your muscles clench around him, your body dragging him deeper into your heat, and his control shatters like glass.
“f-fuckin’ shit,” he growls through gritted teeth, his hips jerking erratically as he spills into you, heat blooming deep inside, marking you in every sense of the word. the intensity steals the breath from your lungs, and as the waves of pleasure crash over you, pulling you under, your release spirals into his, the two of you breaking apart and piecing yourselves back together in the same breath.
his lips find yours, the kiss frantic and messy, a collision of tongues and teeth as if he’s trying to reclaim the time you spent apart. every ragged moan, every whispered curse and gasp fills the room, the air thick with the symphony of your shared need. the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you—entangled, desperate, and utterly consumed by the moment.
it’s not just lust, not just longing—it’s everything. years of heartache, love, and an aching, unrelenting need poured into every kiss, every thrust, every whispered vow that promises you’ll never leave each other again.
your walls clench around him again, coaxing more from him, and he groans deeply, his arms looping around your waist to anchor you to him. his grip is firm, almost desperate, holding your trembling hips in place as his thick, creamy release paints your insides. it’s obscene, the way it trickles down your shaking thighs, a messy, lewd reminder of everything he’s giving you. but baekhyun doesn’t stop—not yet. his hips slow, but only slightly, rolling into you with a lazy, unrelenting rhythm as if determined to fuck every drop back into you.
it’s filthy, yes, but there’s something almost tender in the way his lips brush against yours again, his deep moans muffled as his movements grow languid, sweet in their intensity. he nips at your bottom lip, his voice a teasing rasp when he finally pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours.
"how ’bout we give minji a sibling, huh?" the words spill from him, low and teasing, yet dripping with intent, his hips punctuating the question with a deliberate thrust that has you crying out.
your brain short-circuits, the world spinning as his cock drags against your sensitive walls. your head nods before you can even process his words, a frantic, needy motion as your body betrays just how utterly drunk you are on him. thinking straight? impossible. all you can manage is a breathless, choked moan of agreement, your fingers digging into his back as he continues to work you into oblivion."yeah?" your voice trembles, still riding the waves of your last high. "well, we’ve got all night to try."
the morning sun filtered softly through the trees as you stood at your front door, your body still humming with the afterglow of the night before. baekhyun’s car had just turned the corner, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and the weight of his goodbye kiss still lingering on your lips. you smiled to yourself, the memory of his warm hands on your waist and the way he’d looked at you all night filling you with a quiet joy.
but then your thoughts shifted, and a familiar ache settled in your chest. you glanced to your left, to chanyeol’s house, where your daughter, minji, was probably still fast asleep. you wondered when you should go pick her up, already missing the sound of her giggles and the way she always ran to you with open arms.
your gaze lingered on his house, warm affection for your daughter mingling with a twinge of guilt. chanyeol had been nothing but kind—stepping in to watch minji overnight so you and baekhyun could have this time together. but as your eyes traced the windows, movement caught your attention.
the curtain in the living room fluttered, a shadow shifting behind it before it was quickly pulled shut. the abruptness of the action made your heart sink. someone had been watching. you didn’t need to guess who.
your stomach twisted as the realization hit you. chanyeol.
the look on his face from last night flashed through your mind—the way his mouth had tightened, his expression faltering when you’d casually mentioned your plans with baekhyun. you’d tried to soften the blow, telling him you were "taking things slow," but now those words felt hollow, like a broken promise.
slow? the sight of you outside your front door in baekhyun’s shirt, kissing him goodbye, told a different story.
the weight of the moment pressed on you, guilt pooling heavy in your chest. chanyeol didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve to see this, to piece together the night you’d spent with baekhyun and feel whatever it was you knew he must be feeling.
for a second, you thought about knocking on his door, about saying something—anything—that might ease the tension now crackling in the air between your homes. but instead, you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to step inside your own door. maybe it was better this way, to let the moment settle, to deal with the aftermath later when your thoughts were clearer.
but as you shut the door behind you, your phone buzzed in your pocket.
chanyeol:
hey, can we talk?
a sigh escapes your lips, the guilt in your chest an ache that refuses to fade. you were already bracing for this conversation, knowing it had to happen, knowing you owed him this clarity. more than that, you still wanted him in your life—him and nari both. they had become such an integral part of your and minji's world, their presence a steady anchor in the chaos. you had to make sure he understood that.
your thumbs hover over the screen, the words forming before you can second-guess them.
yeah, i think we should, yeol.
chanyeol sits on the couch beside you, though the space between you feels like a canyon. it’s a noticeable difference from how he used to sit, closer, as if the world wasn’t big enough to separate the two of you.
he brought minji home a few minutes ago, fast asleep against his shoulder, her cheek pressed to him in the way only a child could manage, soft and unguarded. her little mouth hung open, a whisper of snores escaping as if the world around her didn’t exist. she’d been worn out from a full morning playing with his sister’s kids and nari, her tiny form so peaceful it made your heart ache. you’d both had quietly tucked her into bed together. and now here you were, back in the living room, perched on the edge of an unspoken conversation.
his sister had stopped by his place earlier this morning, her kids in tow for a chaotic playdate with nari and minji. she’d agreed to watch nari while chanyeol brought minji back home and you and him have this talk, though he’d been vague about why he needed the time. what was he supposed to say? “i’m going next door to talk to the girl i’ve been madly crushing on for over a year about seeing her kiss her ex-boyfriend and baby daddy and now i don’t know where i stand.” no. too messy. too raw. too much.
his jaw tightens, a small movement you barely catch out of the corner of your eye. the weight of his presence feels like it’s pressing against your chest, suffocating and grounding all at once. you glance at him, then quickly look away, unsure of how to start this conversation. unsure if you even can.
the silence between you stretches, awkward and heavy. you try to fill it with small talk, your voice soft. “how was minji last night?”
he glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. there’s something pained in his expression, something restrained. “she was great. she always is.”
you smile faintly, but it fades as guilt bubbles in your chest. “look, chanyeol,” you start, your voice tentative, “i’m sorry for what you saw this morning. it probably didn’t make me look like ‘mother of the year.’” you pause, exhaling slowly. “i know i said baekhyun and i were going to take things slow, but… one thing led to another, and—”
“stop,” he interrupts, his voice sharp but not unkind. his hand comes up, almost reflexively, as if to shield himself from your words. he winces, and you know it’s because he’s picturing it—baekhyun’s hands on you, his lips on yours. where chanyeol wishes his own could be.
his shoulders slump as he exhales, the tension in his body evident. his face is a mosaic of emotions—hurt, frustration, resignation. “i don’t think i want to hear the details… about what happened with you and baekhyun.”
the air grows heavier, his words filling the space between you. for a moment, neither of you speaks. then, he sighs again, his voice quieter this time, softer. “i just came to say that i get it.”
you blink, caught off guard. “you do?”
he nods, his gaze falling to his hands, which rest loosely in his lap. “yeah,” he says, the word heavy with a weight he’s carried for longer than you probably realize. “i always knew your heart was still with him. filled with him. i thought that maybe, over time, with me… and nari… we—i—would fill it instead.” his voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to go on. “but then he came along. and even then, i was still foolish enough to believe i had a chance.”
your heart clenches, the rawness in his voice cutting deeper than any accusation ever could.
he looks up at you, his eyes earnest despite the ache swimming in them. “but i just want you to know… don’t feel guilty. about this. about me. nari and i—we’ll still be here for you and minji. always.”
his words hit you like a wave, and you’re left staring at him, your chest tight and your throat dry. there’s no anger in his voice, no bitterness, just an overwhelming sense of loss and quiet acceptance.
and somehow, that hurts even more.
you open your mouth, but no words come out. what can you possibly say to that? to a man who has just stripped himself bare, laying his feelings and heartbreak at your feet without a hint of resentment? guilt swirls in your stomach, heavy and unrelenting, but beneath it is something softer—gratitude.
“chanyeol,” you finally manage, your voice quiet, shaky. “i… i don’t even know where to start.” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you’ve had for as long as you can remember. “i never meant to hurt you. i swear, i didn’t.”
his smile is small, sad, and fleeting. “i know.”
“you mean so much to me,” you continue, your voice gaining strength. “and not just because you’ve been so good to minji and me, but because you’re… you’re you. you’ve been a constant in our lives when everything else felt so uncertain.”
his gaze flickers to yours, and the weight of his emotions is almost too much to bear.
“but,” you add, hesitating because the truth feels like a betrayal, “i can’t lie to you. when baekhyun came back, it stirred up so much that i thought i’d buried. i thought i’d moved on, but… seeing him again…” you trail off, unsure how to finish without twisting the knife further.
“i get it,” he says softly, sparing you the need to say more.
“i don’t deserve you,” you whisper, shaking your head. “you’ve been nothing but kind and patient, and i hate that i’ve put you in this position. but… thank you. for everything. for understanding, for being here, for—”
“don’t,” he cuts you off gently, his voice firm but kind. “don’t thank me like this is the end of something. nari and minji are still best friends, and i’m not going anywhere. you don’t get rid of me that easily.”
his attempt at humor coaxes a faint smile from you, though the tears welling in your eyes threaten to spill over. “you’re too good, you know that?”
he shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in something that’s almost a smile. “or maybe i just have bad timing.”
you both fall silent again, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a fragile truce. you want to hug him, to thank him properly, but you know it’s not what he needs right now. instead, you place a hand on his, squeezing it gently.
“i’m sorry,” you say again, your voice barely above a whisper.
he squeezes back, his touch warm despite the distance he’s trying to keep. “me too.”
and with that, the moment shifts, leaving behind a bittersweet ache that doesn’t feel quite like an ending but more like an understanding—a quiet closure to what could have been. as chanyeol stands to leave, his hand moves instinctively, gently cupping your chin. his thumb grazes the soft curve of it, a gesture so intimately familiar it almost feels like a promise.
his eyes meet yours, but this time, there’s no playful glint, no trace of hope lingering there. instead, his gaze is calm, tinged with a bittersweet acceptance that sits heavy in the space between you. his lips pull into a small, wistful smile—warm enough to remind you of the connection you once shared but tempered by the reality that things have changed.
“we’ll be okay,” he says softly, the weight of his words lingering in the air. “nari and i… we’ll always be here for you and minji. that doesn’t change.”
his voice is steady, not heavy with regret but grounded in the knowledge that some paths aren’t meant to intertwine the way he might have once hoped. and as he steps back, the warmth of his touch fades, but not in a way that feels cold or distant.
instead, it feels like understanding.
he hesitates for a moment, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, but then he nods slightly, his smile growing just enough to feel reassuring. “see you around, yeah?”
“yeah,” you manage, your voice soft but steady.
with that, he turns and walks out the door—not leaving behind a void, but rather a quiet sense of peace. the kind of peace that comes with knowing some connections will always remain, even if they’ve shifted into something new.
baekhyun had started staying over on weekends. it had been his idea initially, a way to make up for the years he missed with minji—but somewhere along the way, it became about more than that. your relationship with him had been blossoming, as if no time had been lost.
the nights you spent together felt like a rediscovery of who you both were, a bittersweet journey through what was and what could be. after minji would fall asleep, the two of you would sit on the couch, sharing stories from the years apart. his late-night shifts at the hospital during his program, your struggles navigating motherhood alone, the little triumphs and heartbreaks in between.
what surprised you most was how much had stayed the same. you still had the same taste in music, still argued playfully over which movie to watch. even the new interests you’d each picked up fit together seamlessly—baekhyun teasing you about your new baking obsession while you mocked his newfound love for photography.
it was during one of those weekends, after a long day spent at the park with minji, that things shifted. the house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the night outside. minji had gone to bed hours ago, worn out from a day of running around, and now you lay tangled in the sheets with baekhyun, your skin still warm from the closeness you’d just shared.
his arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your skin. “i’ve been thinking,” he murmured, his voice soft but serious.
you turned to face him, your cheek brushing against his bare chest. “about what?”
“about telling her,” he said, his hand stilling on your side. “minji. that i’m her dad.”
you blinked up at him, the words settling heavily in the air between you. it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed your mind, but hearing him say it made it feel... real.
“you think she’s ready?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
he nodded slowly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “she’s smart, you know? she already knows there’s something different about the way i am with her. and with you.” his lips quirked into a small smile. “plus, i want her to know. i want her to know how much i love her. how much i love... this.”
your breath hitched, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. “you really think now’s the time?”
baekhyun shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. “i do. but only if you’re ready, too.”
you bit your lip, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. but as you thought about how minji had been bonding with baekhyun—her laughter during their tickle fights, the way she lit up every time he walked into the room—you realized he was right. she deserved to know.
“okay,” you whispered, your fingers reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “let’s tell her.”
he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice a gentle promise. “thank you. for letting me be here. for giving me this chance.”
the following day, during lunch, you sat minji down. the late afternoon sun poured into the kitchen, casting soft golden streaks across the table where you, baekhyun, and minji sat. the aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup lingered in the air, a comfort meal chosen carefully for this important day.
minji swung her little legs under the chair, humming a tune in between bites, blissfully unaware of the weight of the moment looming.
you glanced at baekhyun, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his bowl—a nervous tell he couldn’t quite hide. catching your eye, he gave you a small nod. it was time.
“minji,” you began gently, setting your spoon down and leaning forward. her big eyes flicked up to you, still chewing, her cheeks puffed out like a little chipmunk.
“mommy and i want to talk to you about something important,” baekhyun added, his voice warm but tinged with a nervous edge.
minji blinked, tilting her head curiously. “what is it?”
you took a deep breath, reaching for her tiny hand across the table. “you know how you’ve been spending a lot of time with baekhyun lately? going to the park, playing games, having fun?”
she nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across her face. “yeah! he’s so fun! and he’s really good at hide-and-seek!”
baekhyun chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through his hair. “well, there’s a reason we’ve been spending so much time together, minji,” he said, his voice tender. “it’s because i’m your dad.”
the room went quiet for a moment as her little brain worked to process the words. her eyes flicked between you and baekhyun, her brow furrowing slightly. “my... dad?”
you squeezed her hand gently. “yes, sweetheart. baekhyun is your dad. he loves you very much and wants to be in your life, just like mommy is.”
minji’s lips pressed together in a thoughtful pout. then, she looked at baekhyun, her small voice filled with curiosity. “are you gonna stay forever?”
his breath hitched, and you could see the emotion pooling in his eyes. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table to meet her at eye level. “yes, minji. i promise i’m not going anywhere. i want to be here for you, always.”
she studied him for a moment, then turned to you. “is that okay, mommy?”
your throat tightened at the question, the innocence of her trust nearly breaking you. you nodded quickly, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “of course, bun. it’s more than okay.”
a beat passed, and then her face lit up with a smile that could rival the sun. “so... does this mean i can call you daddy?”
baekhyun laughed, his voice shaky but filled with relief. “only if you want to, bunny.”
without hesitation, she slid off her chair and ran to him, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist. “hi, daddy.”
baekhyun’s arms enveloped her instantly, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. his eyes met yours over her head, glistening with unshed tears and a gratitude too deep for words.
in that moment, you knew everything would be okay. your little family had found its way back together.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ omg k first of all, i’m so, so, sooooo sorry it took me forever to finish this fic 😭😭😭 i really wanted to try something new with this one. more angsty vibes, some slow-burn, and some juicy subplots to keep it interesting hehe :') instead of my usual "plot? what plot? oh wait, you mean porn" approach (which ofc the next like 4 fics are definitely giving that lmfao) ANYWAAAYYYY, i hope you enjoyed it!! <3 as always lmk ur thoughts <3 <3 (unless you hated it or thought it was mid...then pls...keep it to urself because i am a fragile lil bnuy n will cry 😭🤚🏼) k that's all bye love you guys!!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა 💖
I was in an exo mood today and wanted to read more of bias and take a break from skz. I got stabbed in the heart multiple times and a brick was thrown right at my head. My emotions are EVERYWHERE. I feel so sorry for the 3.. (Soo, Chanyeol, Nari) Not gonna lie, I kind of hoped there was just 1 scene of soo and chanyeol meeting or just getting to know eachother and get together, but life ain't always fair and this fic has published since 2024..
My fault for being a little too busy 😪.. But I paid the price..
best friend! Kim 𝓢eungmin x f!reader x campus crush! Bang 𝓒han 9,193 words
in 𝓦hich: you can do nothing but complain to your best friend seungmin about the thin walls of your apartment and your roommate’s relentless sex life driving you insane. you don’t have to guts to admit to him that sometimes you actually listened in, hoping that her hot boyfriend, chris, was pounding into you instead. but seungmin isn't stupid, and he helps you give chris a taste of his own medicine.
content warnings & tags: this honestly became way smuttier than I had expected tbh, so proceed with caution. voyeurism !! 65% of this is dom! seung and the rest needy! chan. eventual threesome, degradation, use of toy, orgasm denial(?), lots and lots of name-calling, masturbation (f), oral (f & m recieving), unprotected sex, lots of things tbh, so lmk if i missed anything! sexual content ahead, viewer discretion is advised.
conversations with seungmin were like slipping into your favourite worn-out hoodie; something that you don't even remember when it had become a constant in your life.
somewhere between late-night study sessions and shared meals at the campus café, he had quietly become your best friend; the one person who had seen you cry over grades, over family calls that ended too abruptly, over dreams that felt too big for dorm-room ceilings. with him, nothing felt too heavy to say out loud.
you were on the phone now, sprawled across your bed, your laptop abandoned somewhere near your feet, whining about the latest group assignment while he laughed—loud, unfiltered, the kind that made your stomach flip even when you pretended it didn’t.
“—and then this idiot submits the wrong file, so now we’re all scrambling like headless chickens,” you groaned, flopping dramatically onto your pillow.
seungmin snorted. “sounds like karma for calling my coding project ‘a glorified calculator app’ last week.”
you laughed despite yourself. “prof seemed to agree with me if i remember correctly.”
he scoffed, already launching into a dramatic defense of his work, when suddenly you heard it. the soft click of the door. followed by hushed giggles. footsteps. your stomach dropped.
“oh no,” you muttered.
“what happened?” seungmin asked, confused at the sudden change in your voice.
before you could answer, the muffled sound of voices drifted through the thin walls. your roommate. and her boyfriend.
“ugh,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “it’s happening. again.”
seungmin laughed. because of course he did, with your misery being his main source of entertainment. “what is?”
“it’s sooha and her boyfriend. chris? i’d told you about them, remember?” you replied, lowering your voice instinctively. “they can not keep it in their pants, man, i swear. she’s been dating this guy for, like, two weeks now, and almost every day they decide our dorm is their personal love hotel. it’s so fucking annoying.”
“sucks to be you,” seungmin said, completely unhelpful and way too used to your roommate’s antics.
you huffed, half annoyed, half exhausted, and he moved on, ranting about something else entirely. some professor. some deadline. his voice droned comfortably in your ear, familiar and grounding, and yet your attention betrayed you.
because the noises didn’t stop, they never did.
they only continued till you felt like you were losing your mind.
to be honest, it wasn’t truly even that bad. your rooms were on the opposite ends of the cozy living room, and the walls were thick enough that you could continue with your work without needing to blast music at full volume if you were focused enough.
but it was never about the sounds, no matter how much you told yourself, but it was always about his presence.
the noises started almost immediately— soft at first, the creak of the mattress in the next room, her breathy laugh turning into something softer, needier. then his low murmur, the kind that carried just enough bass to vibrate through the wall. you could picture it too clearly: his hands on her waist, her head tipping back, the way the bedframe would tap rhythmically against the wall soon enough.
you swallowed hard.
“hey? you there?” seungmin’s voice sharpened, his concern cutting through the haze.
you blinked, grounding yourself. “what?”
“you went quiet,” he said. “you okay, angel?”
of course he noticed. he always did. he knew your pauses, your tells, the way your breathing changed when something was wrong. and now this, apparently.
“yeah. yeah, of course,” you said quickly, laughing a little at your awkwardness. “sorry. i’m just… yeah. it’s nothing. continue.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
you’d complained to him countless times about your roommate. about the noise, the lack of boundaries, the frustration of trying to study or sleep through it all.
what you didn’t tell him was the part that made your stomach twist with guilt. the part you buried so deep you barely admitted it to yourself.
that sometimes, in the quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts, your imagination betrayed you. that sometimes you pictured her boyfriend in places he had no right to be.
the idea unsettled you as much as it lingered, and the shame of it burned hotter than the thought itself.
“i need to go now,” the muffled sound of seungmin getting up and moving around brought you back. “you sure you’re okay? you can come by if you feel too uncomfortable or something? i’ll just tell the guys to reschedule—”
“no, no, minnie, that won’t be necessary, i’m fine. thank you for offering though,” you say. “sorry for making you worry, i was just… thinking about what we’re gonna do with the project.”
“okay then,” he didn’t sound convinced, but didn’t press further. “all the best, angel.” he ended the call, and silence settled in, making it harder for you to ignore the couple next door.
it had been weeks since your last call with seungmin. assignments, group meetings, finals prep; the usual excuses had kept you both busy and orbiting around each other at a safe distance.
quick waves across the lecture hall, a shared eye-roll during a particularly brutal presentation, but no real time. no late-night rants, no movie marathons, no accidental silences that meant too much.
now that your exams were finally over, it felt as if a weight had been lifted, and you had called seungmin over to make up for lost time.
you hummed to yourself as you fired off yet another text, wearing your most comfortable tank top and shorts; double, triple checking if he had picked up all the snacks you had asked him for;
seung
seungmiinnnnnnn
u got the spicy ramen right?
AND the chips i told u about??
DON’T YOU DARE FORGET THE SOJU
minnniee my loveeeee
pls come quick baby i’m starving
his reply was instant, predictably teasing;
crazy how you only care about me when i bring snacks
yes mom i have everything
stop spamming or i’ll eat them all in the hallway
you practically skipped out of your room when the doorbell rang, bare feet padding across the cool floor, already rehearsing the dramatic “finally!” you were going to greet him with.
but then you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him.
chris was sitting on the couch, legs spread comfortably, elbows on his knees, thumbs flying across his phone screen with that same focused frown you’d seen a hundred times from across campus. he looked up when you froze in the doorway, and his expression softened instantly into that polite, disarming smile.
“hey,” he said, voice low and easy. his gaze flicked over you— quick, not lingering, but enough to make heat crawl up your neck anyway. you were suddenly hyper-aware of the thin strap slipping off one shoulder, the way the shorts rode up your thighs when you shifted.
“sooha’s not here,” you voiced your first thought, because apparently your brain had forgotten the concept of small talk.
“oh, yeah i know,” he looked sheepish.
no matter what complicated feelings you had about him and sooha, you still knew chris was a good person, who was oblivious to whatever was shared between you and his girlfriend.
and standing there alone with him now, you felt a pang of guilt for how thoroughly you had been avoiding him on campus these past weeks, your eyes finding everyone but his when he waved or smiled at you from across the room.
“sorry for coming here unannounced,” he continued, “but—”
the doorbell rang again, cutting him off, followed almost immediately by seungmin’s unmistakable voice.
“yah, did you die or something? open up before i eat all your snacks! don’t test me!”
you laughed despite yourself, the tension cracking like thin ice as you excused yourself, hurrying to the door.
“i had literally been standing here for, like, three hours,” seungmin complained as soon as you opened the door, his hands reaching to loosen the tie he was still wearing from his part-time job. then suddenly his expression shifted, eyes sliding past you to the living room. “chan hyung? what are you doing here?”
“chan… what?” you echoed faintly, stepping aside to let him in, your brain short-circuiting at how easily that nickname had rolled off seungmin’s tongue.
chris looked up, surprised, then grinned wide. “minnie?”
seungmin stepped fully inside, kicking the door shut behind him, eyes darting between you and chris like he was trying to solve a math problem in real time.
you moved on autopilot, taking the bags from seungmin’s hands and mumbling, “i’ll just… put these in my room,” before you heard the two of them exchange a few words, laughter spilling out effortlessly. you softly clicked your bedroom door shut behind you and leaned against it for a second, breathing.
what the actual fuck?
a few moments later the knob turned. seungmin slipped inside, eyes comically wide, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper the second the latch caught.
“when you said sooha’s horny ass boyfriend was chris, you meant chan hyung?” he was unsure whether he found this funny or horrifying.
“how do you know your chan hyung anyway?” you huffed, somehow feeling annoyed at this new information as you plopped down on the edge of your bed, arms crossed over your chest.
“we used to go to the same high school... was in the same friend group for a while,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes drifting to the way your breasts looked pushed up for a split second. “and we had a few classes together this semester, too,”
he didn’t mention the part where they’d fucked girls in the same room, sometimes at the same time.
“well then how come you never mentioned this friend of yours?” you muttered. your annoyance hid something worse; embarrassment.
seungmin shrugged, an amused smile on his face. “i mean… i don’t know, you never asked? he’s just someone, y’know? it just never came up.”
he dragged your desk chair over and sat facing you, knees almost touching yours. the easy teasing from earlier was gone; now he was watching you carefully, like he could see the embarrassed flush creeping up your cheeks and the way your fingers found the hem of your tank top, an obvious nervous tick.
you huffed, trying to play it off. “great. so i’ve been ranting to you about this guy for weeks, and you’re just… casually friends with him. fan-fucking-tastic.”
seungmin’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “to be fair, you never said his name until like… a month in. plus, i think i know like, i don't know, three chris-es? c’mon. i just never connect the dots.”
you groaned, flopping backward onto the mattress, arms over your face. “i hate everything.”
he laughed fondly, shaking his head at your reaction. a silence washed over the room as he watched you, giving your thoughts room to drift back to months earlier, when it had all begun.
you and sooha were civil in the way strangers sharing a small space learn to be.
polite smiles. short conversations about laundry schedules and whose turn it was to take out the trash. you never fought, but you never clicked either. there was nothing to talk about, no shared humor, no late-night confessions. just co-existence.
and then there was chris.
you were strangers at first, your life more peaceful when you didn’t know of his existence.
but then one mundane day you saw him, laughing with his friends, and something about the way he just existed made everything else blur.
you only knew he was a semester ahead of you, nothing else, but ever since then, you seemed to find him everywhere.
the library steps. the cafe outside the campus. outside your lecture hall. he always smiled at you when your gazes met, not in a way that felt intrusive, just… warm. polite. but somehow intentional enough to feel that his eyes always found yours. enough to make your chest feel oddly tight every time.
a few nights later, you told sooha, the day a blur of cheap alcohol and lowered defenses. your living room smelled like spilled soju and burnt popcorn, and the music from someone else’s room thudded through the walls. you remember sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of you giggling at nothing, courage borrowed from the green bottles.
“you know chris, the one with the australian accent? i think i have the biggest crush on that man. he's soo fine,” you giggled between hiccups, the first time you had admitted that fact to yourself.
sooha had gone quiet, just looked at you with those unreadable eyes, then shrugged. “cool.”
you'd laughed it off, feeling happy with your first genuine interaction with your roommate, and had passed out on your bed still in your jeans.
and then the next day, head heavy from the hangover and clothes sticking to your body, you found chris on your living room couch.
kissing sooha.
chris's eyes flicked to you for half a second— surprise, maybe guilt— before sooha pulled him back in deeper, choosing to ignore your presence.
you'd slammed your door as you retreated back into your room, hangover soup or a shower be damned. after that day, your secret stayed buried, known only to you.
that was the moment resentment took root. you told yourself that it was about loyalty. about boundaries. there was hatred, yes, but not just for her, although she carried the weight of it.
but if you were honest, the ache burned brighter whenever you saw him. for her getting to taste what you'd only daydreamed about. for the casual way she'd claimed something you'd never even had the courage to reach for.
at first, it was more than just the noise that annoyed you. it was the inconsideration, the timing, the way they never seemed to care if you were studying or trying to sleep. you complained about it endlessly, venting to seungmin, shoving headphones over your ears.
until one night, something shifted.
you were lying on your bed, laptop open, a movie playing that you had lost the plot to hours ago. and like clockwork, the sounds started again.
you waited for irritation to rise. for anger. for that familiar knot of resentment.
it didn’t come.
instead, for once, the noises weren't loud enough.
you shifted, thighs pressing together almost automatically. the bedframe started its steady rhythm—slow at first, then building. you could hear the hitch in her breathing, the way it caught and released. but your mind wasn't on her anymore.
it was on him. always.
your body moved without asking for permission, your cheek pressing against the door before you had even registered leaving the bed. there was a heat that didn’t belong, coiling low in your stomach. your thoughts turned traitor, slipping into places you hadn’t allowed them to go.
you hated it. you hated yourself for it. yet still, that didn’t stop you.
you fell to the ground as your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts without thinking, without letting yourself think.
shame flared hot behind your eyes, but what was hotter was the way you imagined chris's hands, the same ones you'd seen gripping her waist that first day, sliding up your sides instead. his mouth on your neck, the plush lips giving you wet and sloppy kisses, marking you. his hips rolling into you with that same deliberate pace, making the frame knock just like that. the low groan you'd heard him make once or twice, rough and wrecked, vibrating through the wall and straight into your core.
your breath came shorter, fingers brushing over sensitive skin, already slick from nothing more than imagination and sound. it was humiliating how fast it built.
every thrust in the next room echoed in your head as if it were yours. suddenly his weight was pinning you down, fingers tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp. “you enjoying this, huh?” he smirked, his voice making your core vibrate. he said your name, his lips touching your ears, his voice low, broken, and desperate.
you bit your lip to stay quiet, but a small whimper escaped anyway.
the rhythm picked up—faster, harder—and so did your hand, circling, pressing, chasing.
when you came, you let out a load moan, your body feeling limp and hot.
you opened your eyes and you saw no one but yourself on the mirror in front of you, your arousal staining the floor and your nipples hard against your tshirt, shorts abandoned somewhere near your ankles.
the emptiness of the room hit you like a shockwave; sharp, silent, shameful. you lay there afterward with heavy breaths, heart hammering, staring at the ceiling with wet fingers and burning cheeks.
you hated how good it felt.
you hated even more that you knew you'd do it again.
seungmin’s low laugh pulled you back to the present like a hand pulling you from under water.
you blinked, realizing you’d been staring at nothing—lost somewhere between the memory of that first humiliating night and the present, where your thighs were pressed so tightly together the muscle ached, your breathing shallow and uneven.
he was still sitting in the chair he’d dragged over, elbows on his knees, close enough that you could see the mole under his left eye, and the faint dusting of red on his cheeks and ears.
“your breathing’s all fucked up, angel” he said quietly, no teasing this time. just observation. clinical, almost. “and your thighs—” his gaze dropped deliberately to where your legs were clamped shut, then flicked back up to your face. “—are clenched so hard i’m afraid of what i’ll see when i push them apart.”
heat flooded your cheeks so fast you felt dizzy.
you opened your mouth to deny it, to laugh it off, to say anything that would make this moment less real— but nothing came out.
seungmin didn’t look away.
instead, the corner of his mouth lifted, just a fraction, just enough to make your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
“do you listen?” he asked, voice so soft it barely carried. “when chan fucks her. when he gets loud. do you… listen in?”
“i—” you tried to say, but all that came out was a breathy gasp as seungmin put his hands on either side of you, caging you between him and the mattress. his breath tickled your neck, and you shivered.
you’d always known seungmin was attractive. objectively, of course (or that's what you told yourself). the kind of attractiveness that made people do double-takes in the café line. the kind that used to make you stare at his fingers when he strummed his guitar, and maybe lose your breath when sometimes he would engulf you in a hug and you felt his hard muscles press against your soft skin.
but you never let those thoughts linger, no matter how hard that was for you, because losing him would gut you worse than any crush ever could.
you stared at him now— really stared— and saw the boy who’d held your hair back after too many shots, who’d stayed up until dawn helping you cram for midterms, who’d once driven across town at 2 a.m. because your voice cracked on the phone and you couldn’t say why.
but right now, with his face buried in your neck, pupils dark and steady, that careful boundary felt paper-thin.
“seungmin,” you whispered, hands clutching his arm to… push him away? but your hands stayed in place, involuntarily giving his arm a squeeze to ground yourself.
on hearing your fragile voice, seungmin pulled back a bit, and your body instinctively arched forward at the absence of his warmth.
he searched your eyes for a moment. “you’ve been disturbed by their noise for so fucking long.” he said, voice just as low, “maybe it’s time you gave him a taste of his own medicine, angel.”
your breath faltered at his proposition, the weight of what he was implying settling between you. but before the words could fully sink in, his mouth finally found the side of your neck.
a surprised, sharp gasp tore out of you. his lips were warm, soft at first, then firmer as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss just under your jaw. heat exploded under your skin like someone had struck a match. your hands flew to his shoulders—not pushing, just… holding on.
he pulled back again just enough to meet your eyes, a slight frown at your tense reactions.
“hey,” he said, voice rougher yet somehow softer now. “this doesn’t have to change anything between us. this is just me… helping my best friend take some revenge.” his thumb brushed your cheek, gentle, even if his gaze burned. “if you don’t want this, any of it, tell me to stop. tell me and i’ll stop right now.”
your mouth was dry. your whole body felt like it was vibrating.
you searched his face, looking for the joke, the safety net, the signs of mirth on his face after he would prank you. it wasn’t there.
all you saw was him. waiting. wanting.
but still giving you the power to end it.
but you were just a girl, with a stupidly attractive best friend whom you trusted more than yourself.
“don’t stop,” you whispered, your lips desperately reaching for his. you felt him smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, and he kissed like he had been wanting this for years. like he wasn’t just helping you get revenge.
his mouth found your collarbone again, and the way he groaned gave you an inkling that maybe the times he had stared at your neck was not him just admiring your necklaces. suddenly, you felt something sharp—his hand pulled a fistful of your hair to gain better access— and you expected to feel pain at his rough actions, but instead, you let out the loudest moan.
outside the room, you heard a thud, as if something had fallen.
“that’s right, baby,” seungmin smirked, giving your hair another pull. “you’ve got to scream for me tonight, show him what he’s been missing,”
seungmin’s hands were firm on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, the springs dipping under your combined weight as he lay your head on the pillow. you landed with a soft bounce, breath catching, and before you could even process the shift, he was hovering over you, knees bracketing your thighs, one palm planted beside your head, caging you in without touching you anywhere you desperately wanted him to yet.
his eyes were dark, amused, predatory in a way you’d never seen directed at you before. the boy who used to steal your fries and fall asleep on your shoulder during movie marathons was gone— in his place was someone who looked like he’d been waiting to unravel you for longer than you’d ever suspected.
you tried to steady your breathing, tried to look at anything but at his face, only for your gaze to snag on the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering at his throat.
then he moved.
he shifted to the side, reaching for your nightstand drawer with casual familiarity, like he’d done it a hundred times before. the drawer scraped open and your stomach dropped.
no. no fucking way.
“you think i don’t know about this?” he pulled it out slowly—your slim, purple vibrator, the one you kept buried under chargers and old files like it was national secrets. the same one you’d used on those nights when chris’ low groans had pushed you over the edge faster than you cared to admit.
seungmin held it up between two fingers, turning it lazily so the light caught the smooth surface. then he looked back at you, smirking, looking triumphant.
your face was already burning, but the heat that rushed through you now felt nuclear. you wanted to disappear into the mattress, wanted to snatch it from him. you wanted—fuck—you wanted him to keep looking at you like that.
“you’re not as slick as you think you are, angel” he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. his thumb flicked the base once—just once—and the toy buzzed to life for a split second before he clicked it off again. “i’ve heard it through the wall more times than i can count.”
your mouth fell open. no sound came out.
he leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “every time you think you’re being quiet? every time you bite your pillow so hard and think i can’t hear?” he dragged the cool tip of the vibrator lightly down your chest, grazing your hard nipple over the thin tank top. you arched without meaning to. “i know exactly what you sound like when you come, baby. and i know you’ve thought about me fucking you just as much as you’ve thought about chan.”
a whimper slipped out before you could stop it. seungmin pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. his smile was slow, filthy.
“such a little slut,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “getting off to the sound of your roommate getting railed. using this pathetic thing while you pretend it’s his cock instead.” he pressed the vibrator against your inner thigh—still off, just the promise of it making your skin crawl—and dragged it upward in a lazy line.
“but tonight? tonight you’re gonna make noise for real. loud enough that chan can’t pretend he doesn’t hear. loud enough that he’ll lie there next to her wondering who’s making his sweet little neighbor sound like she’s being ruined.”
your thighs trembled. you couldn’t look away from him. “min…”
he clicked the vibrator on—lowest setting—and settled it against the damp cotton of your shorts, directly over your swollen clit. the thin fabric dragged deliciously against you with every tiny buzz, giving the sweetest friction, but also the worst kind of tease, because it still kept him so far away that your hips already ached to shove the barrier aside.
you gasped, sharp,and involuntary, and seungmin’s free hand shot up to cover your mouth, thumb pressing against your bottom lip.
“uh-uh,” he whispered. “not yet. save it. i want him to hear every fucking sound you make when i finally let you fall apart.”
he dragged the toy in slow, torturous circles, watching your face the entire time, watching the way your brows knit, the way your hips jerked despite yourself.
“tell me,” he said, voice rougher now. “tell me you want him to hear how wet you get for me. tell me you want him to get jealous.”
your head thrashed once against the pillow, the words stuck in your throat, thick with shame and need.
seungmin leaned in, lips grazing yours, just a tease. “say it,” he breathed. “or i stop.”
you swallowed. your voice came out wrecked, barely there. “i… i want him to hear.”
“hear what?”
“how wet you make me, min,” you cried out, desperate for more. “i want him to hear how wet i get for you.”
seungmin’s eyes flashed. “good girl.”
with one hand, he reached for his tie, and the sight of him taking it off was enough to make you cum. he caught your wrists in his hands, tying them with the satin fabric before turning the vibrator up a notch.
and then he kissed you again, claiming, while his other hand shoved your shorts and panties aside just enough to press the toy directly against your bare skin.
the first real moan tore out of you before you could stop it. loud. unmistakable.
“that’s it baby, make him hear how much you enjoy being heard.” seungmin felt it. the way your hips jerked up against the vibrator. the way your thighs trembled around his knee. he chuckled.
“oh, you like that, don’t you,” he said, almost sweetly. “you like knowing he’s right there, hearing you fall apart for someone else.” he clicked the vibrator up one more setting. the buzz intensified, ripping a sharp gasp from your throat before you could swallow it down.
“louder,” he ordered, pressing the toy firmer, grinding it in tight circles that made your vision blur at the edges. “come on, show me how much of a whore you are.”
you whimpered, high and needy, and seungmin’s free hand slid up to cup your throat, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you know who’s in control.
“minnie… ah, seungmin, i’m so close,” you were surprised at your ability to form words, for all that was currently occupying your brain was seungmin, seungmin, seungmin.
it was all to much, the buzz of the vibrator hitting your swollen clit, his hands around your throat and your inability to do anything. and worse of all? the way he was looking at you.
“not yet,” he turned the vibrator off, throwing it aside. you cried out, your needy whimpers making him smirk. he removed your shorts and panties, and his eyes seemed hypnotised by the way your juices were spilling out, already making a wet spot on your bedsheet.
“look at you,” he breathed, and for the first time that night, he was the one who looked speechless.
in an instant, his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue making patterns on your wet walls that made you see stars. as if that weren’t enough, without warning he pushed his finger inside you, making you scream, fighting against the restraints your hands were tied in.
“such a fucking slut,” he murmered, the vibrations of his voice against your skin making your hips jerk. “getting wet at the thought of him hearing you, aren’t you? picturing him on the other side of the wall while you leak all over my face like a desperate little whore.”
your breath hitched, and you felt fresh heat flood between your legs at the words. you wanted to deny it, to close your thighs, anything to hide how true it was, but your body betrayed you: another involuntary roll of your hips chasing the pressure, a tiny, broken sound slipping out before you could stop it.
he chuckled, dark and knowing, his free hand coming up to push your tank top aside and grip your breast, giving your nipple a firm squeeze. “yeah, there it is. listen to yourself. bet you’d come even harder if he knocked right now, didn’t you? if he walked in and saw what a pathetic, cock-hungry mess you turn into the second someone teases this slutty cunt.”
he inserted another finger inside you, and your back arched off the bed with a choked moan. your cheeks burned; shame and arousal twisted so tight in your stomach you could barely breathe. you shook your head weakly, no, no, that’s too much, you wanted to say, but your hips kept grinding, the sound of his digits pumping in and out of your slick folds filling the room.
“tell me exactly what you want him to hear. go on, paint the picture for me, you desperate fucking whore. do you want him to hear you moaning my name? begging for cock like the needy bitch you are? or—” his voice dropped even lower, lips coming up to brush yours as he spoke, “—do you want him to hear you be ruined? scream it loud enough that he knows exactly what a dripping, shameless slut is in the other room?”
your hips bucked once, twice, chasing harder pressure you weren’t allowed to have yet. shame burned hot in your cheeks, your chest, but it only made you wetter, slicker, more frantic.
he felt it. of course he did. “don’t you dare hold back now,” he growled, nose brushing yours. “say it. tell me you want him to hear you come so hard the bed shakes. tell me you want him to know you’re getting off thinking about his cock while i play with your greedy little hole. use your fucking words, angel,”
your throat worked, lips trembling as another helpless roll of your hips grounded his fingers deeper against you. any remnant of denial was gone; only raw, humiliating need left.
“i… i want him to hear me come,” you whispered, voice cracking, barely above a breath. “fuck, min— i want him to hear how loud i get… how wet i get for you… how much i need… how much i need your cock inside me,”
your eyes fluttered shut for a second, mortified, but your body kept moving—small, desperate thrusts against his fingers like you couldn’t stop even if you tried.
he laughed softly, cruel and pleased, rewarding you with a rougher pace and another finger that ripped a choked moan from your throat.
“good girl. that’s my nasty fucking slut.” he murmured, lips grazing your ear again. “keep going. tell me you’d let him listen every night if i told you to. tell me you’d spread these legs wider just so he could hear how filthy you really are.”
“i… i would,” your breath came in short, ragged gasps now, thighs quivering, clit throbbing. you were shaking now, teetering right on the edge, humiliated and so unbearably turned on you could cry. “p-please seungmin, i’m so close,” you moaned, your voice hoarse from your screams. “please, let me cum,”
“you’ve deserved it baby,” he chuckled, his tongue finding your clit again. “cum for me, my filthy little angel,” he commanded, voice thick with satisfaction as he sucked your clit between his lips, humming deep so the buzz traveled everywhere. “don’t you dare hold back. scream it—loud enough for him to hear every fucking second of how wrecked you get for me. let the whole damn apartment know what a desperate, dripping slut you turn into when i own this pussy.”
your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. the coil snapped hard, white-hot pleasure ripping through you in violent waves. your back arched off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as a raw, broken scream tore from your throat: his name, over and over, ragged and shameless, repeated like the only prayer you knew. “fuck—seungmin! yes—fuck! yes!”
each pulse of your orgasm milked more slick from you, coating his tongue, his chin, the sheets beneath. you shook uncontrollably, fingers twisting in the restraints, your thighs around his head pulling him closer even as overstimulation made you whimper.
tears pricked your eyes from the intensity, cheeks burning with the fresh wave of humiliation—he’d made you loud, made you obvious, and god, it only made the aftershocks hit harder.
he didn’t let up right away, lapping lazily through the mess as you trembled, murmuring against your oversensitive flesh. “that’s it… good girl… screaming like the needy whore that you are.”
the aftershocks still rippled through you in slow, lingering waves. your body felt molten, legs splayed open, chest heaving, seungmin’s tie still circling your wrists, no longer tight, loosened by every restless movement you’d made. the sheets beneath you were a mess, damp and cooling where your release had soaked through. seungmin’s mouth was slick with you, chin glistening as he finally lifted his head, eyes dark and shining with satisfaction.
he crawled up your body slowly, deliberately, pressing soft, wet kisses along your stomach, your throat, the corner of your mouth. “fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice wrecked and soft. “you sounded so pretty screaming my name like that. think the whole building heard.”
you managed a shaky laugh, half sob, too overwhelmed to form words. your clit still throbbed faintly from overstimulation, every tiny shift of your hips sending sparks up your spine.
seungmin kissed you properly then, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, with one hand tenderly caressing your cheek. when he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip.
“i’m gonna get you some water, okay?” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “and maybe clean you up a little before round two. don’t move.”
he slipped off the bed with that easy grace of his, and paused at the door, glancing back at you— spread out, flushed, wrecked— and his mouth curved into something dangerously sweet.
“stay right there, angel. i’ll be back in two minutes.”
the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts. as you forced yourself to take deep breaths, trying to calm down, you tried to process exactly what had transpired between the two of you.
you had never thought this day would come— you, cumming on seungmin’s tongue and him, promising you a round two — but somewhere deep in your heart, you also felt that this was a long time coming.
he had told you at the beginning that things between you didn’t have to change after this, but after getting a taste of what you both could offer each other, you knew there was no going back, and you couldn’t deny the excitement curling in your chest as you looked toward this new stage of your relationship.
but no matter how much you tried, there was still something at the back of your mind, or rather someone—
you heard footsteps. but not seungmin’s light, familiar steps; they were heavier, slower. hesitant.
and the breath caught in your chest as the door opened— and there stood chris.
he looked… wrecked. hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it too many times, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms tense. his eyes, dark, pupils dilated, locked onto you immediately. they dragged down your body: the hickeys blooming on your neck and chest, the tie still loosely binding your wrists, your legs parted just enough that he could see the slick mess between them, the wet spot darkening the sheets. your brain told you to sit up, to cover yourself, but your body was too tired. and your heart? well…
chris didn’t speak at first, just swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing. his chest rose and fell like he’d sprinted here, as if he hadn’t just been sitting a few feet away, his ears picking up on every little whisper.
“i—” his voice came out rough, cracked. “i… heard everything.”
the shame that should have crashed over you instead twisted into something hotter, sharper. your thighs trembled under his stare.
he took one step inside. then another. the door swung shut behind him with a soft click. he took a seat on the chair seungmin was occupying, not saying a word.
“baby,” he breathed, his hands on the mattress, as if touching you was something he hadn’t earned yet. “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
you squirmed under his gaze, happy to finally see him look at you the way you had always wanted, but there was something stopping you from truly enjoying his stare, from telling him to come over and ruin you.
“what about…?” your voice trembled, trying to make sense with whatever strength you had left in you.
his smile almost wrecked you. “i broke up with her weeks ago. she asked me to come get a few of my things today, that’s why she went out,” he whispered, his voice vibrating through your whole body. “i couldn’t continue the relationship… how could i, when even when i’m with her, my mind always wandered to the room next door?”
“what?” you regretted not being friends with sooha, because then you could’ve known this vital piece of information ages ago. “but i thought… i thought it was you in her room yesterday… doing… y’know?” you blushed before you could complete the sentence, feeling shy despite the fact that you were literally lying naked in front of him and that he had probably heard you say worse things in the past hour.
“did you see me?” he smirked as you shook your head no, getting up on the mattress, his face inching closer to yours with each words. “or did you hope… did you imagine it was me, each time you heard her get railed. or worse… did you imagine yourself in her place? did you imagine yourself getting fucked,” his breath tickled your cheek, so close yet too far apart. “by me?”
up close, he smelled like clean sweat and something woodsy— his cologne, the one you’d caught whiffs of in passing for months. his eyes flickered to your bound wrists, then back to your face.
“seungmin tied you up?” his voice was low, strained. almost primal.
you nodded once, barely. chan’s hand hovered near your cheek, hesitant, then gently brushed a strand of damp hair from your forehead. the touch was so careful it made your chest ache.
“did he make you come like that?” he asked, thumb tracing the edge of one hickey. “screaming loud enough for me to hear every second?”
another small nod. your lips parted, but no sound came. he leaned down slowly, giving you every chance to turn away.
instead, your back arched, wanting him to be closer.
his mouth found yours, tentative at first, like he was testing if this was real. then deeper, hungrier, tongue sliding against yours with a groan that vibrated through your whole body. one hand cupped the back of your head; the other slid down your side, fingers digging into your hip like he needed to anchor himself.
when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, breathing ragged.
“i’ve wanted this,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “every time i saw you on the couch, your bra strap fucking inviting me to snap it and hear you moan. i’ve wanted you ever since i saw you across campus, looking so damn angelic that you almost blinded me, doll.
“i’ve wanted you every time you looked away… i wanted to pin you against the wall and make you finally fucking look at me. really look, without your eyes drifting away.”
his hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the soaked mess between your thighs. you jolted, oversensitive, but arched into it anyway.
“seungmin got you this wet, huh?” he murmured, almost awed, circling your clit once, gentle, testing. you whimpered. “i gotta thank him for this then,” he smirked.
in a flash, he had rolled you over, pushing down on your head as he aligned your ass against his bulge. you shivered when your wet folds came in contact with the rough material of his jeans, and let out a loud moan as his hand landed on your cunt as a sharp slap.
“tell me to stop,” he said, echoing seungmin’s earlier words, but his voice was thicker, more desperate. “tell me, and i’ll leave right now, i promise.”
you met his eyes, dark, burning, pleading. “don’t stop, chan,” you whispered.
chan groaned at the way the nickname rolled out of your mouth, like the words had punched the air out of him.
he pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, cock springing free, heavy, thick, already leaking at the tip. he fisted himself once, twice, eyes never leaving yours.
then he notched himself at your entrance, slow, careful despite the tremor in his arms.
you gasped as you felt his tip enter, already stretching you perfectly, the slight burn blending into pleasure so intense your toes curled.
“i’m gonna fill you up,” he rasped, pushing in inch by inch, your loud cries about him being too big, too much, falling on deaf ears. “gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else ever touched you.”
with every firm thrust, you felt your bed frame thud against the wall, the sound of your fantasies coming alive making your head dizzy and your moans louder.
“louder,” he growled against your ear, voice wrecked. “scream for me like you did for him. let kim seungmin hear it when he comes back. let him know who’s ruining you now.”
your hands, still tied up, found you clit, as you erratically touched your swollen bud. “fuck, yes, yes! you’re filling me up so good, channie, oh fuck.”
the rhythm chan had set was brutal, deep, punishing strokes driving fresh, broken cries from your throat. you were loud, deliberately so now, moaning his name like a chant, letting it echo through the thin walls, through the cracked bedroom door.
“fuck—channie, yes, right there—harder, please—”
your voice cracked on every syllable, your brained so hazed that you didn’t even realise it at first when the door opened again.
seungmin stepped inside, two water bottles dangling loosely from his fingers, a warm washcloth in his other hand. he stopped in the doorway, eyes sweeping the scene: you face-down, ass up, chan buried to the hilt behind you, one hand fisted in your hair to keep your back arched, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
as your face turned towards him, for one terrified heartbeat, you thought he would be angry, rightfully so, your brain chided you. you thought that the easy affection in his eyes would shatter, that he’d storm out, that everything would end here in shame and silence.
instead, Seungmin tilted his head.
a slow, lazy smirk curled his lips.
he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms casually, like he’d walked in on you eating snacks instead of getting railed within an inch of your life.
“didn’t know you were such a greedy little slut, angel,” he drawled, voice soft and amused. “one cock wasn’t enough?”
something about the way he was looking at you, not like he was surprised, but rather entertained, broke you in the best possible way.
your cunt clenched hard around chan, visceral and involuntary, and chan groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering for a second. seungmin noticed too, the way your eyes rolled back and the fingers on your clit when slack for a moment.
“fuck— she just squeezed me so tight,” chan rasped, glancing over at seungmin without slowing down. “think she likes this more than we thought.”
seungmin’s gaze flicked to you once again, your flushed face, your trembling thighs, the way your mouth hung open around desperate little gasps, and then back to Chan.
something wordless passed between them: a knowing look, a tiny nod, the kind of silent communication that only happens when two people have already decided the same thing long before walking into the room.
they weren’t surprised.
they weren’t jealous.
they were… prepared.
seungmin pushed off the doorframe and walked over slowly, setting the water bottles and cloth on the nightstand like this was just another tuesday. he stopped right in front of your face, fingers sliding under your chin to tilt your head up so you had to look at him while chan kept fucking into you from behind.
“look at you, such a desperate little cumslut,” seungmin murmured, almost sweetly. his fingers brushed your cheek, then trailed down to roughly squeeze your breasts, another hand came up to your mouth, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. you whimpered around the pressure of his thumb slipping into your mouth. your tongue curled instinctively around it.
“greedy little whore. all tied up and drooling already. you really couldn’t wait two minutes for me to come back before you let hyung stuff you full, huh?” you whimpered—half apology, half plea—as chan drove in particularly deep, making your whole body jolt.
seungmin murmured, chan chuckled darkly, slapping your ass for good measure as he slowed his thrusts just enough to make you whine in frustration.
“she’s been loud,” he said conversationally, like he was discussing the weather. “kept moaning my name— channie this, channie that. thought you might want to hear it up close.”
seungmin’s fondly rolled his eyes as he smirked at chan, his eyes darkening with satisfaction.
“oh, i heard,” he said softly. “every filthy little sound.” he pulled his thumb free with a wet pop, smearing your own spit across your cheek. “but i think she can be louder, can’t you, baby?”
he unbuckled his belt with one hand while his other hand fisted the base of his cock, already hard again from watching you get wrecked. in an instant, his shirt was also discarded, falling somewhere beside your tank top that you didn’t even realise had been taken off in your haze.
chan pulled out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside, making you sob at the sudden emptiness.
“open,” seungmin ordered.
your mouth fell open on instinct, tongue dipping out.
he slid in slowly, inch by inch, until your nose brushed his pelvis and your throat fluttered around him. you gagged softly, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but you didn’t pull away.
“good girl,” he praised, fisting your hair as he thrusted into your mouth in a rough shove. “take it all in.”
chan pushed back in at the same time, filling your cunt while seungmin fucked your mouth. the dual stretch, the rhythm, the way they moved in perfect tandem like they’d rehearsed this, sent your brain to complete, blissful ruin. no thoughts, no shame, only the primal need to be used, filled, and fucked stupid by both of them in perfect, cruel sync.
they talked over you like you weren’t even there, like you were just the perfect toy they’d finally decided to share.
“she’s so fucking tight,” chan groaned, hips snapping forward. “feel that? she’s clenching every time you bottom out in her throat.”
seungmin’s fingers tightened in your hair, guiding your head in shallow thrusts that matched chan’s pace.
“angel likes being used,” he murmured, almost tenderly. “look at her eyes, rolling back already. bet she’d come just from this. from being our fucking hole, made to be used only by us.”
your body agreed before your brain could catch up.
your cunt spasmed hard around chan, clit throbbing untouched now, and a muffled, desperate scream vibrated around seungmin’s cock as another orgasm ripped through you, sharp, blinding, humiliating in how easily they pulled it from you.
seungmin groaned at the feeling, hips jerking forward once, twice, before he pulled out just enough to let you gasp for air.
“again,” he said, feeling himself reach his limit. “come again while we’re both inside you. show hyung how greedy this pussy really is.”
chan’s hand cracked down on your ass, sharp and stinging, and you screamed again, louder, voice hoarse and wrecked.
they didn’t stop.
they just kept going, fucking you between them, filling every hole, praising and degrading you in the same breath, until you were nothing but trembling, overstimulated sensation and their names on your lips.
chan broke first, a low, guttural groan tore out of him as he buried himself deep and came hard, flooding your cunt with his thick cum. when he finally pulled out, his cum immediately seeped out, hot, obscene, trickling down your thighs, mixing with everything already leaking from you. he fisted his penis as more hot liquid flooded out, marking your back.
the sudden gush, the slick warmth coating your insides and dripping onto your back, snapped the last thread in you. you came again, violently, clenching around nothing, a choked sob ripping free as your whole body seized.
seungmin followed suit, and he gripped your jaw tighter, tilting your head back.
“open wider, angel, don’t you dare waste it.” he fucked your mouth in short, punishing thrusts until he spilled down your throat, thick and bitter and endless. you struggled to swallow around him, gulping desperately while he milked every last drop, hips stuttering, voice wrecked. “that’s it… drink it all like the good girl you pretend to be.”
when he finally eased out, strings of spit and cum still connected your lips to his tip. he wrapped long fingers around your throat, watching with dark, possessive eyes as you swallowed hard, throat working visibly. then he pressed two fingers against your tongue, dragging it out flat.
dazed, wrecked, stupidly proud, you stuck your tongue out further, showing him the mess you’d taken, lips swollen and glossy, a dazed little smile curling the corners even as tears streaked your cheeks.
seungmin’s thumb brushed your lower lip almost tenderly. “fuck… look at you,” his voice was soft now, completely different from when he was calling you a greedy slut. “ruined and still so pretty.”
chan’s hand slid up your spine, slow and grounding, as he leaned down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss between your shoulder blades.
both men drew back for a moment, giving you room to sink bonelessly onto the sheets, chest heaving in the sudden, fragile quiet.
“yeah, just like that princess,” chan whispered, “deep breaths.”
seungmin climbed on the bed, laying down facing you, and he folded out his arm, inviting you.
you giggled as you settled against his hard chest, and he engulfed you in a warm embrace, caressing your hair and trailing soft kisses over your cheeks. “you’re okay, right? did we go too far?” his eyes searched yours, concerned. you shook your head earnestly, caressing his cheek.
“you did so good, princess,” chan whispered, hands massaging your ass, softening the red marks he had left. “so perfect for us.”
chan then reached for the washcloth seungmin had left on the nightstand and began cleaning you with careful, gentle strokes. the damp fabric glided over the sticky mess on your inner thighs, between your folds, wiping away the evidence of how thoroughly they’d used you. his touch was soft, almost worshipful, thumb occasionally brushing soothing circles over the sensitive skin as you hummed in satisfaction.
after a moment, chan settled beside you on the bed, his larger frame curving protectively around your back while seungmin stayed pressed to your front, caging you gently between their warmth. chan’s hand found your arm, stroking slow and firm from shoulder to wrist, grounding you as your pulse still hammered beneath your skin.
you bit your lip hard enough to taste the faint copper of it. slowly, you eased out of seungmin’s loose embrace just enough to lift your head and meet both their eyes; first chan’s steady gaze, then seungmin’s softer, searching one. the question clawed its way up your throat, small and scared.
“are you guys… sure you’re okay with this?” your voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling on the edges. “that i might want you both just as much?”
you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until their low, shared chuckle rumbled through you.
“we want you, and want to take care of you princess,” chan said simply, no hesitation, a wave of understanding passing between him and seungmin. “both of us. and we’re not gonna make you choose. ever.”
seungmin hummed in agreement, nuzzling into your hair.
“your needs come first,” he added softly. “always. and if you want both of us, then that’s what you’ll get. no jealousy. no games. just us taking care of you.”
chan leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, gentle this time, full of everything unspoken. When he pulled back, his eyes were soft, steady.
“we’re not going anywhere,” he promised. “you’re ours, and we’re yours. however you want us.”
and since then, the noises continued, only now you had zero complaints.
peach notes: lowk regretting the fact that kim seungmin was not inside her, but i felt too tired to write more lol. also, can you tell that i'm a fucking whore for the both of them? 😮💨 no lube no protection and allat. sorry if chan's part felt too rushed, lowkenuinely entered flow-state writing min's parts. (#need that) ( pls don't ask me abt if min went to freakin antartica to melt a glacier to get her the water lol, nothing about this is logical anyway, honestly i just needed them to fuck by that point, i'm just a girl ┐(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)┌ )
and wdym there's more than a 100 (hundred!!?) of you here already!!1? thats insane, i could kiss u all. and i'm really overwhelmed by the love you've given me on my first post, truly thank you so much, i'm so grateful to each of you who reblogged and/or left a comment. pls feel free to drop by and send an ask to lmk your thoughts or literally anything, i would love to chat with you all <3
you'll see me next in march, unfortunately exam szn doesn't let me be horny 💔
ɞ . abstract. a cozy series of moments where the members discover that the most precious merch isn't found in a store, but in the slightly wonky stitches and soft yarn of the gifts you’ve made just for them.
ɞ . warnings / tags. fluff. needle injuries (small mentions of blood, nothing crazy). allusions to overworking.
ɞ . note. requested!
CHAN
the hum of the studio was the only thing filling the room when you pushed the door open, your heart doing a nervous little dance against your ribs. chan was hunched over his desk, the blue light from his monitors washing over his face and making the dark circles under his eyes look a little deeper than they had this morning.
he didn't even look up at first, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he tweaked a synth lead that had been haunting him for three days. you didn't say anything, just quietly set a small, crumpled paper bag on the corner of his desk, right next to his third empty coffee cup of the night.
he blinked, the movement finally breaking his trance. his head tilted as he looked at the bag, then up at you, a slow, tired grin spreading across his lips. "hey, you. i didn't hear you come in."
"i can tell," you teased, leaning against the edge of the desk. "you were in the zone. i almost didn't want to ruin it."
"never a ruin," he murmured, his voice raspy from lack of use. he reached out, his fingers brushing against the bag. "what’s this? you bring me more caffeine to keep me alive?"
"not this time. it's... well, just open it."
you watched him, suddenly feeling a little shy. you’d spent the last three weekends hunched over a crochet hook, watching endless youtube tutorials and swearing at tangled yarn until your fingers cramped. it wasn't perfect—the stitches were a bit uneven in places, and one of the ears was slightly more lopsided than the other—but it was made with a lot of love and an embarrassing amount of patience.
chan pulled the item out of the bag, and for a second, he just went completely still.
it was a small, plush wolf—a homemade wolf chan. you’d even managed to find a tiny scrap of black fabric to give him a little hoodie that matched the one chan was currently wearing.
"you made this?" chan asked, his voice barely a whisper. he held the wolf like it was made of glass, turning it over in his large hands. he poked the lopsided ear, a soft, breathless laugh escaping him. "wait, did you actually crochet this yourself? like, from scratch?"
"yeah," you mumble, looking down at your shoes. "i know it's a little wonky. the tutorial was in spanish and i don't actually speak spanish, so i just kind of guessed halfway through. and i think i stuffed the head too much, so he looks a bit... intense. but i wanted you to have something to keep you company when i'm not here."
chan didn't say anything for a long moment. he just kept staring at the little wolf, his thumb rubbing over the yarn. when he finally looked up, his eyes were shimmering with that specific, soft look that always made your knees feel a bit weak. it wasn't just a "thanks" look; it was the look he got when he was genuinely overwhelmed.
"it's not wonky," he said firmly, though his voice cracked just a tiny bit. he stood up, the chair rolling back with a loud click, and stepped into your space. "it's the best thing i've ever seen. look at his little face. he looks just like me when i'm stressed."
"he looks like he’s had six espressos, chan. just like you."
he laughed, a real, belly-deep sound that seemed to chase the exhaustion right out of the room. "okay, fair point."
he set the wolf down right in front of his main monitor, tucked between his interface and his speakers. "there. now he can judge my mixing decisions. 'chan, that kick is too loud,'" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, making you giggle.
then, his expression shifted. he reached out, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over the small red mark on your index finger where the needle had nipped you. "is this from making him?"
"maybe," you admitted.
chan sighed, pulling you into his chest. he smelled like expensive cologne and stale coffee, a scent that shouldn't work but somehow felt like the safest place on earth. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing tight.
"you're too good to me," he mumbled into your skin. "i'm sitting here losing my mind over a bridge that won't work, and you're at home stabbing your fingers with needles just to make me a little mascot."
"i just wanted you to smile, channie. you’ve been looking so tired lately."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your hips. the dim studio lighting made the moment feel heavy, intimate in a way that made your pulse jump. "i am tired," he confessed, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "but honestly? seeing this... seeing you... it's better than sleep."
he looked back at the little wolf chan on the desk, then back at you, a mischievous little glint entering his eyes. "though, i have to say, he's much softer than i am. does this mean i have competition for your attention now?"
"don't be jealous of a ball of yarn," you laughed, swatting at his chest.
"i'm a very competitive person," he joked, but then his smile softened again, turning into that quiet, sincere expression that felt like a hug. "thank you. seriously. i’m never taking him off this desk. if the building catches fire, i’m grabbing the laptop and the wolf, in that order."
"glad to know i'm at least top two," you teased.
he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted like the lingering sweetness of his earlier coffee and something uniquely him. when he pulled away, he stayed close, his breath warm against your face.
"you're number one," he whispered. "the wolf is just a very close second because he was made by you."
he squeezed your hand one last time before sitting back down, but he didn't go straight back to the music. instead, he picked the wolf up again, adjusted its tiny hoodie, and gave it a little pat on the head.
"alright, wolf chan," he muttered to the plushie, "let's finish this track so i can go home with the person who made you."
you sat on the couch in the back, watching him work with a newfound energy, the little yarn wolf standing guard over the sliders and knobs. it wasn't a professional piece of merch, and it wouldn't pass a quality check in a store, but seeing the way chan kept glancing at it with that goofy, smitten grin made every cramped finger and tangled thread worth it.
LEE KNOW
minho’s apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional soft thud of a cat jumping off a counter. he was sitting on the floor, intensely focused on brushing dori, who was purring loud enough to vibrate the floorboards. he didn't even look up when you sat down beside him, though the corner of his mouth hitched up in a tiny, almost invisible greeting.
"you’re late," he remarked, his voice smooth and teasing. "soonie and dongie already gave up on you. they’re napping in the bedroom because you weren't here to entertain them."
"i had errands," you lied badly, feeling the weight of the small gift box in your bag. "and i brought something. for you. well—mostly for you."
minho finally paused, setting the brush down. he leaned back on his palms, eyeing you with that sharp, cat-like curiosity of his. "a peace offering? what did you do? did you accidentally delete my gym playlist or something?"
"just open it, lee know."
you pulled the box out and handed it to him. he took it, his long fingers nimble as he pried the lid off. inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, was a handmade leebit keychain.
you had spent hours on it. it wasn't the official plastic kind; it was sewn from soft, cream-colored felt with little hand-embroidered eyes and that signature grumpy-yet-cute expression. you’d even stitched a tiny heart on the back, hidden under the cotton tail.
minho went silent. his usual quick-witted wall of snark seemed to hit a snag. he picked it up by the metal ring, letting the little felt rabbit dangle in front of his face. he poked the bunny’s cheek, then looked at the slightly crooked stitching along the ears.
"it's... a rabbit," he said flatly, but his ears were starting to turn a tell-tale shade of pink.
"it's leebit," you corrected, feeling a flush of heat creep up your own neck. "i made it myself. i know it's not perfect—the ears are kind of different lengths and i think i used the wrong shade of thread for the nose, but—"
"it looks like it’s judging me," minho interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. he looked at you then, his dark eyes searching yours. "how long did this take you?"
"too long. i poked myself with the needle like ten times. sewing is way harder than it looks in those aesthetic hobby videos."
minho looked back at the keychain. he didn't laugh or make a joke about how "ugly" it was, which was what you had actually prepared yourself for. instead, he carefully hooked the ring onto his finger, watching the little bunny swing back and forth.
"you’re a dummy," he murmured, his voice lacking any real bite. "you should’ve just bought one if you wanted me to have a keychain."
"but that wouldn't be from me, would it?"
minho huffed, a soft sound that was more of a fond exhale than a sigh. he reached out and, instead of taking the gift away, he grabbed your hand, turning it over to look at your fingertips. he found a tiny, faded red dot from a needle prick and ran his thumb over it, his touch surprisingly gentle.
"you’re clumsy," he said, though he didn't let go of your hand. "don't do it again. i don't need felt rabbits that cost you your blood."
"you don't like it?" you teased, though you could see the way he was already trying to find a place for it.
"i didn't say that." he stood up, crossing the room to where his keys were sitting on the kitchen island. you watched as he methodically threaded the leebit onto his heavy ring of keys, right next to his car fob. it looked a little ridiculous—this soft, handmade, slightly wonky bunny hanging next to his sleek metal keys—but he didn't seem to care.
he walked back over, dropping back down onto the floor beside you. dori immediately crawled into his lap, and minho began absentmindedly stroking the cat’s ears while keeping his other hand close to yours.
"it’s going to get dirty," he noted, staring at the keychain. "felt is a magnet for cat hair. it’ll probably look like soonie in a week."
"i can make you a new one if it gets gross."
"no." he looked at you, his expression softening into something rare and vulnerable, the kind of look he usually reserved for his three cats when he thought no one was watching. "i want this one. it has character. it looks like it’s been through a war, just like its creator."
"hey!"
he chuckled, a low, private sound. he leaned in then, bumping his shoulder against yours. "thank you. really. it’s... it’s cute. even if the ears are lopsided."
"i think the lopsided ears give him personality."
"sure," minho smirks, finally letting a bit of his usual mischief back in. "it matches you perfectly then."
you went to swat him, but he caught your wrist, pulling you closer until your foreheads were almost touching. the teasing light in his eyes didn't fade, but it was joined by something much warmer, much more solid.
"it’s the first thing i’m going to see every time i leave the house," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "so you better be ready for me to text you every time i look at it."
"i think i can handle that."
"good," he murmured, before leaning in to close the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that felt like a quiet "thank you" and a promise all at once.
when he pulled back, he glanced at the leebit keychain again and then at dori. "don't tell the cats, but this might be my new favorite thing in the apartment."
CHANGBIN
the gym bag was heavy on changbin’s shoulder when he walked through the front door, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead from a particularly brutal late-night session.
he looked like he’d been through the ringer, but the second he saw you sitting on his floor surrounded by bits of black and pink yarn, his entire face shifted. that tired, heavy-lidded look vanished, replaced by a curious, slightly lopsided grin.
"what’s all this?" he asked, dropping his bag by the door with a dull thud. he walked over, his socks sliding slightly on the hardwood, and peered down at the chaos of your workspace. "are you starting a textile factory in my living room?"
you laughed, quickly trying to scoop up the scrap pieces. "it's just a project. i was trying to finish it before you got back, but you're early for once."
"early?" he scoffed, checking his watch. "it's almost midnight. i think i'm right on time for whatever mischief you're up to."
he sat down on the floor across from you, his legs folded comfortably. he didn't care that he was sweaty or that the floor was covered in fuzz; he just wanted to be in your space. he watched you for a moment, his eyes darting between your hands and the slightly lumpy shape hidden behind your back.
"come on, show me," he nudged, his voice dropping into that playful, whiny tone he used when he wanted to get his way. "i've been lifting heavy things for three hours, i think i deserve a reward."
you sighed, though there was no real frustration behind it. "okay, fine. but you have to promise not to laugh. i'm still learning how to do the structure properly."
you slowly pulled the item from behind your back. it was a handmade, crocheted dwaekki—but it wasn't just a simple doll. you had turned it into a small, plush weights-lifting buddy. the dwaekki was wearing a tiny, crocheted black headband, and you had even managed to stitch two small gray dumbbells that were permanently attached to its little paws.
changbin’s reaction wasn't immediate. he just stared at it, his mouth falling open slightly. then, he reached out, his thick fingers surprisingly delicate as he took the doll from your hands.
"no way," he breathed, his voice thick with genuine shock. "you made a buff dwaekki?"
"he’s a gym rat," you explained, your voice a little shy as you pointed out the details. "see? i tried to give him slightly broader shoulders by adding extra stitches in the rows, and i used a metallic yarn for the dumbbells so they’d look like real iron. he’s supposed to be your workout partner for when you’re at home."
changbin was quiet, his thumb tracing the tiny headband you’d carefully sewn on. he looked at the stitching—which was tight and neat, evidence of the hours you’d spent hunched over a lamp—and then he looked at the weights.
"look at his little gains," changbin whispered, a huge, face-splitting grin finally breaking out. he looked like a kid on christmas morning. he held the dwaekki up at eye level, making it 'flex' its little stuffed arms. "he’s literally me. he’s perfect. look at the definition on his ears!"
"it’s just yarn, bin. there's no definition."
"to the untrained eye, maybe," he countered, holding the plushie to his chest. "but i can see the hard work. i know how much effort goes into making something like this."
he looked at you then, and the playful energy settled into something much deeper. changbin had always been the one to provide the 'strong' energy—the one who protected, the one who worked out to stay sturdy for the people he loved—but receiving something that acknowledged that part of him in such a soft, domestic way clearly hit him hard.
"you really sat here and did all this for me?" he asked, his voice softening. "how many times did you have to redo those arms? i know how perfectionist you get."
"four times," you admitted. "the first version looked more like a pig-rabbit with a giant marshmallow. i had to keep adjusting the tension."
changbin let out a soft, breathy chuckle and leaned forward, pulling you into a hug that smelled like salt and citrus. he was warm—radiating heat from the gym—but it felt like home. he kept the dwaekki tucked between you, the little yarn dumbbells pressing into your shoulder.
"thank you," he murmured against your hair. "seriously. i'm going to put him right on my bedside table. or maybe i'll take him to the studio so i can show chan and han that i have the coolest partner in the world."
"please don't take him to the studio, he’s probably going to fall apart if you handle him too much."
"he’s built different, just like his dad," changbin joked, pulling back to look at you. he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your face. "i mean it, though. i love it. i love that you put so much of your time into something just to make me smile."
he leaned in and pressed a firm, sweet kiss to your forehead, then another to your nose. "i was actually having a really frustrating session. my reps felt heavy, my mind was all over the place... but i come home to this? it’s like all the stress just evaporated."
he picked up the dwaekki again, making it do a little dance on his knee. "we're going to be the strongest duo in the k-pop industry. just me and yarn-bin."
"is that what you're naming him?"
"obviously. he needs a strong name." changbin grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "and since he’s always holding those weights, he’ll never skip arm day. he’s an inspiration to us all."
you couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. even though he was a world-class rapper and a literal powerhouse, he was currently losing his mind over a six-inch tall ball of pink yarn and stuffing.
"i'm glad you like him," you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.
"i don't like him," changbin corrected, pulling you closer until you were tucked under his arm. "i love him. but i love the person who made him way more. so, you win."
he spent the rest of the night showing 'yarn-bin' around the apartment, taking pictures of the doll 'lifting' his actual protein shaker and sending them to the group chat, ignoring the flurry of 'you're so whipped' messages that immediately came back.
and as you watched him, tired but beaming, you realized that no matter how big his muscles got, he’d always have the softest heart for anything you made for him.
HYUNJIN
the sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, honey-colored glow across hyunjin’s living room. he was sitting on the floor in front of a blank canvas, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched out some loose, flowing lines.
the smell of linseed oil and turpentine always seemed to cling to him, a scent you had grown to associate entirely with his creative process.
you walked in quietly, trying not to disturb his flow, but he noticed you immediately. he always did. he set his charcoal pencil down, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he wiped his hands on a stray rag.
"you’re back," he said, his voice light and melodic. "i was starting to think the art supply store swallowed you whole. did you find the brushes you were looking for?"
"i did," you said, sitting down on the rug beside him. "but i also spent the last week working on something else. a little surprise."
hyunjin’s eyes sparked with instant interest. he was someone who lived for aesthetics, for beauty, and for the thought behind a gesture. he leaned in, his long hair falling over his shoulder as he tucked it back behind his ear. "a surprise? for me?"
you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped bundle. inside was a handmade jiniret beret. it wasn't just a hat; you had spent hours knitting the soft, white wool, making sure the tension was just right so it would sit perfectly.
on the side, you had meticulously embroidered a tiny jiniret face, complete with the little beauty mark under the eye. you had even added two small, pointed ferret ears that stood up subtly from the top of the beret.
as you handed it to him, hyunjin’s breath hitched. he took it with both hands, his fingers brushing over the soft yarn. he didn't say anything at first, just stared at the embroidery, his eyes tracing every single stitch you had made.
"you made this?" he whispered, his voice full of wonder. "the embroidery... it’s so small. and you even got the mole right."
"i wanted you to have something you could actually wear," you said, feeling your heart flutter at the way he was looking at it. "i know you love berets, and i thought a jiniret one would be cute for when you’re painting or just hanging out. the wool is really soft, i made sure of it."
hyunjin didn't just look at it; he treated it like a piece of high art. he turned it over, looking at the inside, seeing the neatness of your work. he looked back at you, his expression softening into that deep, soulful look that always felt like it was searching your very heart.
"this is beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "the fact that you took the time to knit this... to do the embroidery... it’s more than just a hat. it’s like you gave me a piece of your time. and that’s the most precious thing."
"it’s just a beret, hyunjin," you teased softly, though your chest felt tight with affection.
"no, it's not 'just' anything," he countered, shaking his head. he immediately pulled his hair back into a low tie and placed the beret on his head, adjusting it in the mirror leaning against the wall.
he tilted his head, watching the little ferret ears perk up. "how do i look? do i look like a proper artist now?"
"you look like the cutest artist in the world."
hyunjin turned back to you, a bright, genuine laugh escaping him. he crawled over the short distance between you on the rug, framing your face with his hands. his palms were still a little stained with charcoal, but you didn't care.
"i’m never taking it off," he declared, his eyes shining. "i’m going to wear it to practice. i’m going to wear it when i go for walks. i want everyone to know that my favorite person made this for me."
"it might get hot in the dance studio," you pointed out, laughing.
"then i’ll just sweat for the sake of fashion and love," he joked, but then he grew serious again. he leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. "thank you. truly. it’s so me, but it’s even more you because i can feel how much you cared while you were making it. it’s my new favorite thing."
he leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that tasted like the quiet of the evening and the sweetness of the moment. when he pulled back, he was still smiling, the little jiniret ears on his head making the whole scene look like something out of a dream.
he spent the next hour trying to paint a portrait of the jiniret beret itself, insisting that such a masterpiece deserved its own canvas.
for hyunjin, it wasn't about the gift itself—it was about the fact that you had seen him, understood his style, and put your own heart into creating something just for him.
and to him, that was everything.
HAN
jisung was slumped on his bed, surrounded by a mountain of tangled headphones, half-finished lyric sheets, and empty snack wrappers. the room was dim, lit only by the soft, warm glow of a desk lamp, and he was staring at his laptop with a look of utter defeat.
he looked like a squirrel who had forgotten where he hid his nuts for the winter—vaguely panicked and very overwhelmed.
"han?" you called out softly, stepping over a stray hoodie on the floor.
he jumped about six inches into the air, his eyes wide as he scrambled to pull his headphones down around his neck. "oh! hey! i didn't... i was just... you know, music stuff. big brain moves. very productive."
"you were staring at a blank document for ten minutes, weren't you?"
he deflated instantly, his shoulders slumping. "fifteen. the lyrics just aren't lyric-ing today. i feel like my brain is made of mashed potatoes."
"well, maybe a change of pace will help," you said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and reaching into your bag. "i finished that thing i was telling you about. the project i was keeping secret."
jisung’s ears perked up. he was always a sucker for surprises, his curiosity being one of his most endearing (and sometimes chaotic) traits. "the top-secret mission? the one that made you ignore my memes for three hours straight last tuesday?"
"exactly that one."
you pulled out a small, handmade quokka pouch. it was made of a fuzzy, caramel-colored sherpa fabric that felt like a cloud. you’d sewn it by hand, adding a little zipper across the top of the head.
the face was the best part—you’d used black beads for the eyes and pink felt for the cheeks, giving it that classic, wide-eyed han quokka expression. inside, you’d tucked a few of his favorite honey candies just for good measure.
as you handed it to him, jisung didn't move for a second. he just stared at the little fuzzy face in his palms, his mouth slightly agape.
"is this... me?" he asked, his voice cracking a little. he squeezed the pouch, his eyes lighting up as he felt how soft it was. "wait, it’s a pouch? i can actually put stuff in here?"
"yeah. i thought you could use it for your in-ears, or your guitar picks, or just... snacks. it’s not perfect, the zipper was a nightmare to sew in and i think one of the cheeks is a little higher than the other, but—"
"it's literally the greatest thing i've ever owned," jisung interrupted, his voice hushed with genuine awe. he started petting the fuzzy fabric, a huge, gummy smile spreading across his face. "you made this? with your actual hands? like, with a needle and thread and everything?"
"i did. i have the battle scars to prove it."
jisung looked at the pouch, then at you, then back at the pouch. he looked like he was about to burst into tears or start dancing, and with han, it was usually a 50/50 shot.
instead, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you in a messy, enthusiastic hug that sent you both toppling back onto his pillows.
"you're the best," he muffled into your shoulder, squeezing you so tight you could barely breathe. "seriously. i was feeling so stuck and gross and uninspired, and then you just... you walk in with a fuzzy version of my face. how am i supposed to be sad now?"
"i'm glad you like it, hanji."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes shimmering with that soft, vulnerable affection he usually tried to hide behind jokes and loud noises. he reached out and poked your nose, your smile turning a little shy.
"i'm never letting anything happen to him," he promised, clutching the pouch to his chest like a treasure. "i'm going to take him everywhere. he's going to be my emotional support quokka. if i'm in the booth and i can't hit a note, i'm just going to look at his little bead eyes for strength."
"just don't get him dirty. sherpa is hard to wash."
"i will protect him with my life," jisung declared, his dramatic flair returning. he sat back up and immediately started emptying his pockets, carefully tucking his favorite picks and a crumpled-up lyric scrap into the pouch. "see? he’s already helping me organize my life. he’s a miracle worker."
he looked at you then, the playful energy settling into something quieter. he reached out, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.
"thank you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "i know how much work goes into stuff like this. the fact that you spent your time making a tiny, fuzzy me... it makes me feel really, really loved."
"you are really, really loved, you idiot."
he laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that filled the cramped room. he leaned in and pressed a quick, messy kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead, his nose cold against your skin.
"well, the mashed potatoes in my brain are starting to feel like actual ideas again," he joked, picking up his pen and pointing it at the pouch. "me and the quokka are going to write a masterpiece now. stay and watch?"
"wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
he spent the next two hours working, occasionally stopping to pet the pouch or show it a line he’d written to see if it 'approved.' and as you sat there in the quiet hum of his room, watching him finally find his flow again, it seemed that sometimes the best way to fix a creative block was just a little bit of handmade love—
and a lot of fuzzy fabric.
FELIX
the kitchen was warm, filled with the rich, buttery scent of baking that always seemed to linger in felix’s apartment like a permanent hug. he was bent over the counter, his tongue poking out just a little as he carefully piped tiny white flowers onto a batch of chocolate brownies.
he looked soft—wrapped in an oversized cream sweater, his hair a bit messy from a long day of rehearsals, and a smudge of flour decorating the tip of his nose.
"you’re just in time," he chirped, not looking up but recognizable by the bright, honeyed tone of his voice. "i’m just finishing the last few. i made these especially for you because i know you had a stressful week."
you leaned against the kitchen island, watching him. felix was always the one giving—the one baking, the one checking in, the one pouring his entire heart into making sure everyone else felt seen and loved. it made your heart ache in the best way, and it made you even more nervous about the lumpy, soft shape currently hidden in the deep pocket of your cardigan.
"actually, 'lix, i have something for you too," you said, your voice a little quiet.
he stopped mid-piping, his head snapping up. his eyes, wide and sparkling with that genuine, childlike curiosity he never seemed to lose, locked onto yours. "a gift? for me? but it’s not my birthday. or a holiday. or even a friday—wait, it is friday. but still!"
"it’s just a little thing. i’ve been working on it for a while."
you reached into your pocket and pulled out a handmade, crocheted bbokari sun-hat. it was tiny—not meant for a human, but sized perfectly for the little bbokari plush he kept on his bed.
you had used a vibrant, sunshine-yellow yarn for the base, and you’d even managed to crochet a tiny white daisy to stick on the brim. the stitching was a little tight in some places and a bit loose in others, and the daisy was definitely more of a... suggestive flower shape than a perfect one, but it was bright and cheerful, just like him.
felix’s reaction was immediate and visceral. he didn't just smile; he beamed, his entire face lighting up like a switch had been flipped. he dropped the piping bag—thankfully on the parchment paper—and wiped his hands frantically on his apron before reaching out.
"oh my gosh," he breathed, his voice dropping into that deep, rumbling register that usually meant he was feeling something very strongly. he took the hat from your palm as if it were made of spun gold. "you made this? look at the little flower! look at the yellow! it’s so... it’s so bright!"
"it's for your bbokari plush," you explained, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. "i thought he looked a little lonely on your bed, and i know how much you love the sun. it's not the best quality, i'm still a beginner, and the daisy is kind of a mess, but—"
"it is perfect," felix interrupted, his voice firm but incredibly soft. he walked around the counter, clutching the tiny hat to his chest. "it’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever made for me. do you have any idea how much i love it? i can feel the sunshine in the yarn."
"really?"
"really." he grabbed your hand, his fingers warm and slightly sticky from the frosting. "come on, we have to go put it on him right now. he’s been waiting for this his whole life."
he practically dragged you to his bedroom, his excitement so infectious you couldn't help but laugh. he grabbed the yellow chick plush from his pillows and sat on the edge of the bed, his movements careful and focused as he settled the handmade hat onto the plushie's head. he adjusted it, tilting it slightly to the side so the wonky daisy was front and center.
"look at him," felix whispered, his eyes crinkling into half-moons. "he looks so stylish. he looks like he’s ready for a picnic in the park. he looks like... he looks like he's loved."
felix turned to you then, his expression shifting from playful excitement to something much more tender. he reached out and took both of your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.
the room was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the oven timer, but the air between you felt thick with everything he wasn't saying.
"thank you," he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble. "i know you’ve been busy. i know you’ve been tired. the fact that you sat down and moved your fingers like this, row after row, just to make something that would make me smile... it means everything to me. it really does."
"i just wanted you to feel as special as you make everyone else feel, felix."
his lower lip trembled just a tiny bit, and before you could say anything else, he lunged forward, wrapping you in a hug that felt like being enveloped in a warm cloud. he buried his face in your shoulder, his arms squeezing tight. he smelled like vanilla and cocoa and that clean, floral scent that was just felix.
"you're so sweet," he mumbled into your neck. "i don't deserve you. i'm going to keep this hat forever. i'm going to tell everyone who comes over that my favorite person made this for my favorite chick."
"you're going to make people think i'm a professional crocheter, 'lix. please don't let them look too closely at the stitches."
he pulled back, his hands resting on your shoulders, his gaze intense and sincere. "the stitches are my favorite part. they show where you were thinking, and where you were working hard. every little mistake is just a part of the story. i think it's art."
he leaned in then, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as sweet and warm as the brownies cooling in the kitchen. it was a slow, lingering moment, full of the kind of quiet comfort that only comes from knowing someone truly cares about the little things. when he pulled away, he was still smiling, his eyes locked onto yours.
"now," he said, standing up and pulling you with him, "as a thank you, you have to be the first one to taste the brownies. and then we have to take a million photos of bbokari in his new hat to send to the members so they can be jealous."
"i think hyunjin might actually cry if he sees it," you joked.
"good," felix laughed, leadng you back toward the kitchen. "let him be jealous. he doesn't have a handmade hat made with love."
he spent the rest of the evening alternating between feeding you bits of warm brownie and posing the plushie in different spots around the apartment, insisting that the 'lighting' was better in the living room for a photoshoot. he looked bright, happy, and utterly smitten with a tiny piece of yellow yarn.
with felix, it didn't matter if you gave him something expensive or something made of scraps. as long as it came from the heart, he would treat it like the most important thing in the world.
SEUNGMIN
the library at the company building was deserted, the long rows of bookshelves casting deep shadows across the carpet. seungmin was tucked away in his favorite corner, a stack of vocal sheet music and a lukewarm americano on the table in front of him.
he looked incredibly focused, his glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose as he marked up a bridge with a red pen. it was one of those rare moments where he looked peaceful—no cameras, no teasing members, just him and his music.
you stepped into the light of his desk lamp, holding a small paper bag like it contained a live bird. "still at it?"
seungmin didn't jump; he was too composed for that. he just looked up, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. he leaned back, the wooden chair creaking under his weight, and tapped his pen against his chin. "i could say the same to you. shouldn't you be heading home? the last shuttle left twenty minutes ago."
"i stayed late to finish something," you said, pulling out the chair across from him. "actually, i finished it for you."
seungmin’s brow arched. he had that classic, skeptical look on his face—the one he wore when he was trying to figure out if you were about to prank him or say something incredibly sincere. "for me? is it a list of all the times i've been right this week? because that would be a very long document."
"keep dreaming, seungmin."
you reached into the bag and pulled out a handmade puppym scarf. you had spent the last two weeks knitting it, opting for a high-quality, cream-colored wool that was thick and incredibly soft. at each end of the scarf, you had needle-felted a small, round puppym face. you’d worked painstakingly on the eyes to make sure they had that specific, slightly judgmental but adorable puppy stare that everyone associated with him.
as you laid it across the table, seungmin’s red pen rolled away, forgotten. he didn't say anything for a long moment. he just reached out, his long fingers brushing against the wool. he picked up one of the ends, staring at the needle-felted face you’d spent three nights perfecting.
"you made this," he said. it wasn't a question; it was a quiet realization. he looked at the stitching, then at the little felt ears. his expression was unreadable at first—the typical seungmin poker face—but then his ears started to turn that vibrant shade of pink that always gave him away.
"i know you're picky about fabrics," you said, feeling a sudden rush of self-consciousness. "i made sure it wasn't scratchy. and i know it's a bit... cute. maybe too cute for you to wear out, but i thought since the weather's getting colder, and you're always complaining about the draft in the vocal rooms..."
"it's not too cute," seungmin interrupted, his voice a bit lower than usual. he picked up the scarf and began to wind it around his neck, his movements slow and deliberate. he tucked his chin into the soft wool, looking at you over the top of the cream-colored fabric. "it's perfect. the tension in the knitting is actually very consistent. did you block the wool after you finished?"
you blinked, taken aback. "i—yeah, i did. how do you even know what that is?"
he gave a small, smug shrug, though his eyes were shining with something much warmer than his usual sarcasm. "i pay attention. besides, if you're going to give me something handmade, i have to appreciate the technical skill involved."
he adjusted the ends so the puppym faces were visible on his chest. he looked ridiculous and incredibly endearing all at once—the serious, stoic vocalist wrapped in a fluffy, handmade puppy scarf.
"it smells like you," he noted, his voice muffled by the wool.
"is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"it's a 'stop talking so i can enjoy it' thing," he countered, though a small, genuine smile finally broke through his defenses. he reached across the table, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "thank you. seriously. i know how much time this takes. it’s much better than the store-bought ones."
"you're just saying that because you don't want to hurt my feelings."
seungmin let out a short, dry laugh. "have i ever hesitated to hurt your feelings when your singing is flat? no. i'm saying it because it's true. this is... it's special."
he stood up, gathering his sheet music and his empty coffee cup. he didn't take the scarf off. in fact, he tucked the ends into his coat as he put it on, making sure the little puppym faces were still peeking out just enough.
"come on," he said, nodding toward the door. "since you missed your shuttle making me a masterpiece, i guess i have to walk you home. it's only fair."
as you walked through the quiet halls of the building, the air was crisp and cold, but seungmin seemed perfectly content. he kept his hands in his pockets, his chin tucked deep into the scarf. every time he caught his reflection in the glass doors or the elevator mirrors, he’d linger for a second, a tiny, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"you're going to wear it to the dorm, aren't you?" you asked as you stepped out into the night air. "the members are going to lose their minds."
"let them," seungmin said, his voice steady. "they’ll be jealous. jeongin will probably try to steal it, but i’ll just tell him it’s a restricted item. only for people who are always right."
you snorted, nudging his shoulder. "oh, shut up. you are not always right."
"okay. just most of the time."
he stopped walking for a second, turning to face you under a flickering streetlight. the wind caught his hair, but the scarf stayed firmly in place, keeping him warm. he looked down at you, his gaze quiet and intense.
for all his teasing and his sharp tongue, seungmin was someone who felt things very deeply, and you could see the weight of his gratitude in the way he looked at you now.
"really, though," he whispered, stepping a little closer until your coats brushed. "thank you for seeing me. and for... this. i’ll take care of it. i promise."
he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow and sure. he tasted like black coffee and felt like the soft wool of the scarf—warm, comforting, and solid. when he pulled back, he didn't move away, staying close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.
"now let's go," he moped, though his eyes were bright. "if i stay out here any longer, the wool might get damp, and then i'll have to make you knit me a backup."
"don't push your luck, seungmin."
"too late," he teased, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you along the sidewalk. "i've already decided you're making me matching mittens next."
you complained the whole way back, but the way he kept glancing down at the little puppym faces on his chest told you that he wasn't going to be taking that scarf off for a long, long time.
I.N.
the company dorm was uncharacteristically quiet when you arrived, the rest of the members either still at the studio or out grabbing food. jeongin was sprawled on the living room sofa, his legs hanging over the armrest as he scrolled through his phone.
he looked like he’d been through a long day of choreography—sweatpants on, hair a bit flat from a beanie, and a tired sort of peacefulness in his expression.
when he saw you walk in, his entire face transformed. his eyes crinkled into those sharp, fox-like crescents, and his dimples made a sudden, prominent appearance. "you’re finally here! i was about to start eating the couch cushions out of boredom."
"i brought a distraction," you laughed, tossing your bag onto the coffee table. "and no, it’s not snacks, so stop looking at the bag like that."
jeongin sat up, his interest piqued. he was the maknae, but he often carried himself with a lot of maturity; however, when it came to you and anything you did for him, he turned back into a curious kid in an instant. "if it’s not food, it better be good. did you get me that game i wanted?"
"better," you said, pulling out a small, soft bundle.
it was a handmade foxy.ny plushie—but it was different from the ones you could buy. you had used a soft, peach-colored minky fabric that was almost velvety to the touch. you’d spent hours hand-stitching the white patches on the face and the belly, making sure the proportions were just right.
your personal favorite part, though, was the outfit. you’d dressed the little fox in a tiny, hand-sewn version of jeongin’s favorite blue denim jacket, complete with a little white hoodie underneath.
jeongin’s jaw dropped. he took the plushie from your hands, his fingers sinking into the soft fabric. he held it up, turning it around to look at the tiny jacket. "no way... you made the jacket? even the little hood?"
"yeah," you admitted, feeling a bit of heat rise to your face. "the denim was a nightmare to sew because it's so thick at that scale, and i think the sleeves are a tiny bit too long, but i wanted him to look like you. i even gave him your eyes."
jeongin didn't say anything for a second. he just stared at the fox, his thumb rubbing over the tiny denim collar. he looked up at you, his expression soft and a little dazed. "this is... insane. i can't believe you actually sat down and sewed a tiny jacket for a fox just because of me."
"i know it's a bit childish, but—"
"it's not," jeongin interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm. he stood up and pulled you into a tight, exuberant hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. he smelled like laundry detergent and the faint scent of the skin cream he used. "it’s the coolest thing ever. seriously. i’m going to put him on the top shelf of my desk so he can watch me sleep."
"he might get dusty up there."
"then i'll buy him a tiny umbrella," he joked, pulling back to look at you. he was beaming, his dimples deeper than ever. "thank you. i know you've been working on this for weeks. every time i asked what you were doing, you'd get all suspicious and hide your hands."
"well, i didn't want you to see the messy prototype. it looked like a potato with ears."
jeongin laughed, a bright, clear sound that always made your heart skip. he sat back down on the couch, pulling you down beside him. he kept the foxy.ny plushie in his lap, his hand resting protectively over its head. "i'm going to take a picture of this and send it to my mom. she's going to be so jealous."
"don't you dare," you groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder.
"too late," he teased, already pulling out his phone. "she needs to know that i'm being well taken care of."
he spent the next twenty minutes posing the plushie in different spots, making it 'wave' at the camera and pretending it was judging his choice of tv show.
he was so genuinely happy, so proud of this little lumpy thing you’d made him, that you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of relief.
after a while, the playful energy settled. jeongin leaned back against the cushions, pulling you into his side. he tucked the plushie under his arm and rested his head on yours, his fingers tracing patterns on the back of your hand.
"really, though," he whispered, his voice sounding a little tired but incredibly sincere. "thank you. i know being an idol means i'm always busy and away... and sometimes i feel bad that you do so much for me. but things like this? they make me feel like i'm always home, even when i'm not."
"that was the goal, innie."
he leaned down and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. "mission accomplished."
as the door finally clicked open and the sounds of the other members returning filled the hallway, jeongin didn't move. he just held you closer, clutching his tiny fox companion, looking entirely content to stay right where he was.
and when hyunjin eventually burst into the room and immediately shrieked, "is that a tiny denim jacket?!", jeongin just smirked, held the plushie higher, and said, "yeah. and you're not allowed to touch it."
