This is my first fan fiction ever, and I had to get a little AI help with the grammar (please don't cancel me for that T-T) I am not sure if I will write some more in the future, I was just bored. But please enjoy! :)
(No warnings. Changbin x reader, slightly plus size reader, use of y/n. In short: reader starts noticing someone glancing at her at the gym. Literally inspired by me dancing to "Swag- Miyauchi" the other day)
You’ve started going to the gym, not to lose weight, but to become stronger and improve your stamina. Even though by Korean standards you’d probably be considered very overweight, you were just a mid-sized, curvy girl trying not to give a damn about the looks people sometimes gave you since moving here. You were more of the artistic type- writing, drawing, dabbling in music a little, too. Sports had never really been your thing.
So it was a relief to see that this gym had a little dance studio tucked near the hallway that led from the dressing rooms to the main space filled with equipment. You weren’t bad at dancing, and at least it was fun. Nobody was ever in there, so you decided to use it once you worked up the courage; since the wall and doors facing the hallway were made of glass. Still, dancing seemed like the only form of exercise that didn’t annoy you, and you actually enjoyed it. So… why not, right?
At first, you just came in to use the treadmill and worked on the beginnings of choreographies at home, so you’d have something to practice once you finally entered the studio. Eventually, the day came when you decided to go for it. It was an internal fight, but you slowly started getting used to being seen if someone passed by. Most people were minding their business anyway, which was nice. It became a habit, three times a week, and something you genuinely looked forward to.
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, once the clock struck 4 p.m., you were there. Ready.
But after a slight schedule change at work, you had to move your gym time to 6 p.m. starting next week.
You plopped your bag (with way too many obnoxiously cute charms) into the corner and put on your playlist, slowly starting to warm up and stretch. You were wearing your favorite outfit- biker shorts, a tight top, and a cropped hoodie over it, completed with comfy chunky trainers (all black, as always). These days, you were working on finishing a choreography you made for the song “Swag” by Miyauchi. Nothing too advanced, but you poured a lot of passion into your moves, and it actually looked pretty good, it just needed some polishing and an ending.
You put on the song and started dancing, watching your movements in the mirror and trying to execute everything as precisely as possible. You entered your focused mode. After a while, you started getting the hang of how you wanted to wrap up the choreo and rewound the song, starting from the beginning to piece everything together, your bangs now sweaty, cheeks a little flushed.
That’s when you felt it. That strange prickling sensation that you were being watched. At first, you ignored it. People glanced in when passing by all the time. But this time, the feeling didn’t fade. You threw a quick side-eye toward the hallway to see what was up, still dancing to keep your rhythm.
A group of three guys was walking by, and one of them slowed down. He lagged a step behind the other two, his expression slightly dazed as he watched you move. He was on the shorter side, maybe just a little taller than you, and looked pretty jacked. But his face? That was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.
You tried not to panic, continuing the routine while hoping he wasn’t staring out of disgust or judgment. Korean men hadn’t exactly treated you nicely so far, so your doubts were justified. But when your eyes met - really met - something shifted. It felt like slow motion.
Then he quickly looked away, blushing, and shouted something after the other two guys, sprinting to catch up with them.
You stood frozen in place, your face now even redder, not just from the workout, but from the heat blooming in your chest. You sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and took a long sip of water, trying to calm down. After a few minutes, you started stretching again, hoping to soothe both your body and your thoughts.
And after that? It became a routine.
Every Monday and Friday, but not Wednesdays, he passed by. Sometimes he’d glance. Sometimes he’d slow down. Once, you swore he smiled.
Wednesdays didn’t feel the same anymore. You even skipped a few sessions just because he wasn’t there. That’s how much you started looking forward to his attention… and you hated it. You didn’t know his name. You’d never even spoken. He was just some guy. And yet… there was something about him that clung to you longer than you wanted to admit.
It was stupid to be catching feelings over this, over nothing.
It was Friday again, and after a hellish week at work, you were especially looking forward to dancing. The mirrored room felt like your only space to be fully yourself. You got there early, before 6, wanting the extra time to just move, breathe, and maybe stop overthinking that guy.
Maybe today he won’t come by. Maybe you’ll stop being weird about it.
But there they were again. The same trio of guys, right on schedule. And just like clockwork, he slowed down. Changbin. Not that you knew his name yet, but in your head, that was definitely him. You’d been trying not to think about it, about him. About how his glances made your stomach knot in ways you hated to admit.But today was different.He didn’t just glance.
And then, to your complete disbelief, the gym door opened with a low creak.
You spun around, confused, hand halfway to pausing your playlist. And there he was, stepping into the dance room like he belonged there; towel slung over his shoulder, slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, and just enough cockiness in his step to make you instinctively defensive.
“Hey,” he said casually, voice low, playful. “So I’ve been thinking… If I walk by one more time without saying anything, you might think I’m a stalker.”
You blinked. “And this was the less creepy option?”
He laughed, warm and full-bodied. “Okay, fair point.” He leaned his shoulder lightly against the mirror wall. “But, in my defense… you kind of make it hard to walk by without staring. That choreo? Dangerous.”
You narrowed your eyes a little, half-amused. “Dangerous?”
“For my heart, yeah,” he said, not missing a beat. “I’ve nearly tripped over a bench at least three times watching you dance.”
You gave him a look. “Are you always like this?”
He grinned. “Only when I’m nervous. Or when someone’s really cute.”
Your cheeks warmed before you could stop it. But you recovered with a raised brow. “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that.”
He stepped a little closer, still not pushing into your space, but enough that you could smell the faint vanilla scent of his body wash and hear the quickness in his breathing. “I’m Changbin, by the way,” he said, offering his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers had chalk residue on them (weights, probably). “And you are… dangerously good at dancing. Seriously.”
You let out a laugh despite yourself and shook his hand, electricity zipping up your spine at the contact. “Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated like he was testing how it felt in his mouth. “Nice. Fits you.”
You were about to say something, anything, but your brain was too busy short-circuiting. And of course, he noticed.
His grin widened, eyes glinting. “Did I break your brain already? I haven’t even asked you out yet.”
You folded your arms to keep yourself grounded. “Yet?”
“Mmhmm.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Unless you plan on escaping before I can suggest a smoothie place nearby. You look like you could use something cold after that routine. Besides…” His gaze flicked down to your legs and back up, lingering just long enough to set your skin on fire. “It’d be criminal to let this moment go to waste.”
Tension stretched between you like a tight wire.And for some reason you found yourself smiling, despite every part of you that wanted to play it cool.
“…Fine. But only if you’re buying.”
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