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bincutie · 1 year

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Pretty Like a Boy

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

Warnings: Transmasc!Changbin, GN! Reader, angst, FLUFF, Changbin has a mental breakdown, transphobia/some internalized transphobia, gender dysphoria, very mildly suggestive if you squint really hard, some smooching, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3k

Note: This is completely self indulgent but I hope you guys like it! Additionally, I edited this very quickly, please don’t mind any typos.

It's been weeks since you and Changbin have been at the apartment together, and eve longer since you’ve done anything together other than sleep. So you can’t really help the warm wave of excitement that spreads through your chest when you come home to see his shoes and bag in the entryway of your home. You're so happy at the thought of spending time with your lover that you don't even question why he'd be home so early in the day. You slip your shoes off quickly, nearly tripping over your own feet as you do so.

You practically bounce your way through the apartment, correctly assuming he’s in your bedroom. It’s only when you’re standing outside the slightly opened door that your excitement dies, your stomach dropping as your blood seems to turn cold. There is your Changbin, the love of your life, furiously wiping away his tears as he looks into the mirror. You frown, but it feels like you're frozen in your position, unable to do a thing. He sits at your small vanity, various bottles and palettes and rubber bands and brushes are scattered over the counter space. The junk that was there previously has been cleaned off, though one look at the floor next to the space tells you it’s simply been pushed to the side for now. He doesn’t see you in the mirror, and you find yourself wondering if it’s because his tears are blurring his vision. There’s makeup trailing down over his face, his eyes and cheeks are red and puffy, there’s lipstick smeared across his lips and cheeks, you can see the pink shade of it wiped on the sleeve of his shirt. His hair is pulled back, almost in a bun style, but there are random strands falling into his face..

It startles you when you hear him growl at himself, frustrated. Before you even have a chance to react, your lover is yanking the pins and ties out of his hair - tugging harsh enough that you’re sure he’s ripped some of it out, and using his shirt to rub hard at his face. You throw open the bedroom door, rushing in before you can stop yourself. You’re gently grabbing at his wrists, holding his hands, gently caressing the skin of them. You’re fighting back your own tears, your heart shattering every time a pitiful sob wracks through his body. You pull his strong arms around your waist and he’s tugging you closer, holding you so tight that maybe it’s slightly more difficult than usual to inhale, but you don’t care. Not when he’s shaking in your arms, not when his tears are staining your shirt while he muffles his cries against your tummy.

“Oh, Binnie…” You’re petting his hair, leaning to press soft kisses against the crown of his head. His hands are gripping the fabric of your shirt so tightly, you’re pretty sure it’s ripped. “What happened, lovely?” When he only buries himself further, sobs harder, you’re gently shushing him, rubbing his back.

“It’s alright, baby, just breathe with me for a minute, okay? Can you do that, my Binnie?” He hesitates, but eventually offers a small nod. “Okay baby, good. Let’s take a deep breath now, ready?” You do it with him, breathing in slow and deep, still holding onto him. “Good, good, good. Okay now another…” You keep doing that until his hands aren’t trembling, until his heart isn’t pounding, until he’s sagging against you - his sobs morphing into small, quiet hiccups.

“Bin?” He doesn’t respond for a minute, and you let him take his time before he slowly peels himself away from you. He doesn’t look up, instead taking an interest in his hands. The look in his eyes is far away, staring through everything his eyes happen to meet.

“I’m sorry…” His voice isn’t even a whisper, but you hear him loud and clear.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Bin, I just want to know what happen-”

“I do.” His voice cracks. “I’m a…” He shakes his head, his gaze hardening, still directed towards his hands. “I’m a fucking freak, okay?” You’re opening your mouth to respond to him, but he continues. “I don’t understand why I can’t just be happy in the body I’m in. I don’t get why it’s so fucking easy for everyone else. It’s not fair.” His hands are shaking again, but he pulls them away when you try to hold them again. “It’s never fucking fair.” His voice raises to yell, his hands shooting out to shove away the products on the countertop, to push his chair back. He doesn’t stand up, simply hunches over and buries his face in his hands. You watch his tears fall through the spaces between his fingers, watch them drip steadily into his lap, creating a dark spot on his pants.

“I can’t exist how I want to. I can’t look or dress or act how I want to because then they’ll just-” He can’t finish his sentence, his voice cracking. His words are nearly unintelligible through his heaving sobs. “You don’t deserve someone so… so messed up.” He stays quiet for awhile, and you very slowly take one of his hands into yours.

“Bin… you can express yourself however you want to. It doesn’t matter what-”

“Don’t.” You’re startled at the way he cuts you off, his voice loud and stern, completely unlike the Changbin you’re so used to. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You know better than anyone else that it matters. It’s the only fucking thing that matters.”

“It matters that you’re comfortable.”

“I can’t be!” He finally looks up at you, his hand squeezing yours tightly. He looks disoriented, his eyes wide and bloodshot as they dart over your face, searching for something you aren’t able to figure out. He looks exhausted. “I’ve changed everything about myself trying to convince the people around me - trying to convince me- that I can be a man. That I’m a real man. And I thought that maybe when I did that I’d finally be able to be who I am without everyone just assuming, just thinking, that I’m- That it’s-” He growls at his attempt to get the right words out, fresh, hot, angry tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Fuck, I just want to be pretty.”

If your heart wasn’t shattered before, Changbin’s tired, broken voice as he cries out the words, his head hanging low, destroys it. You can feel the burn of tears, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get rid of them, you try to swallow the hard lump in your throat.

“My Binnie, you are pretty.” You’re petting his hair again, tucking the longer strands behind his ears, but he’s shaking his head.

“No. I can’t be. I want to be pretty like- like a boy. Pretty like Hyunjin. Pretty like Felix. Pretty like any of them but I can’t. They’re beautiful in a way that only men can be and I’m not…” He pauses for a moment, a strangled sob cutting through his words as he stares down again at his unsteady hands, his trembling fingers. “I’m not real.”

At first, you’re speechless. You’re frozen in your spot in front of him, your hand still hanging onto his. But then you’re pulling him towards you, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can. He’s hugging you once more, and you find comfort in the return of his bone-crushing grip. You don’t know how long the two of you stay there, Changbin’s tears soaking your shirt once more, and your fingers gently carding the tangles out of his hair.

You pull away first, gently moving your hands to his shoulders as you crouch in front of him. You offer him the smallest smile, lifting a hand to his cheek to wipe a tear away with your thumb.

“I’m going to go grab some things really fast, and I’ll be back. Is that okay?” He sniffles, but nods at you. When you stand again, you press a kiss to his forehead before practically jogging to the kitchen and returning with a chair. You set it down in front of Changbin, facing him. You press a kiss to his cheek before you make your way into the bathroom, retrieving the makeup wipes that you both have a habit of leaving neglected. You return once more, pecking his nose before you quickly pick up every product and tool he previously had sitting on the table.

“Changbin?” You’re holding his face in your hands as if he’s the most delicate thing in the world. And right now, you think he might be. He looks pitiful. Miserable. “Is this okay?” You gesture to the makeup wipes. He nods again. His eyes close as you set to work, gently wiping and dabbing at his messed, red, puffy skin. You press soft kisses all over his bare face, earning the tiniest of smiles from your lover. “Oh, there’s my pretty boy.” His smile widens just slightly, and then his chin begins to wobble, his bottom lip trembling. You press a kiss to his lips this time, hushing him, already wiping the tears away as they fall.

“Now, now, none of that, my love. There’s been enough of that.” He sniffs again, but takes a deep breath and nods again. He opens his mouth and you know what words are going to come out of it before he can even make a sound. Your finger is pressing to his soft lips, and you can’t help your little giggle when his eyes open, surprised. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for, and we both know that. You know, only real men express their emotions.” You press kisses to his cheeks. “Only real men are comfortable enough in themselves to want to experiment with their expression.” You tuck his hair behind his ears again, offering a gentle smile. “And you, my dear, are the realest man I have ever known.” He’s looking into your eyes and you have to admit, it makes you kind of nervous, but there are more important matters to attend to.

“My sweet, strong, perfect Changbinnie. You are the loveliest, prettiest, bravest man that I know. And I know you hear that from me a lot, but I mean it.” Your thumb brushes over his cheek. He leans into your touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips, his eyelids fluttering. “I’ll tell you every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day if I have to. I know it’s hard. I know it sucks. It really fucking sucks to be in a body that doesn’t feel like home. But I need you to trust me for a minute.” You’re wiping his tears again, but you don’t mind. You know he’s listening to you, hanging onto every word that passes through your lips. “My beautiful Changbinnie. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I have never, ever met someone like you. Someone as loving, and strong, and caring. You are so, so gorgeous, my love. On the inside, and on the outside. Sometimes I wonder how someone so perfect even exists. How I ended up with him.” He’s starting to blush slightly, his eyes occasionally moving away from you. “And no other man has ever made my heart flutter the way you do. No other man has ever accepted me the way you do. Loved me the way you do. Touched me the way you do. No other person in this world could ever compare to my amazing gorgeous partner, Seo Changbin. And I’d never want anyone else to try.”

You lean forward, your lips pressing to his in a soft, slow kiss. His eyes are still closed when you move away. You smile at him, and sit up straighter.

“Now. If my beautiful hunk of a man wants to get all dolled up, then you bet your cute little ass that it’s going to happen.” He finally, finally gives you the smile you’ve been craving since you found him here tonight.

“My ass is not little.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Shut up and let me do my work. Pick out what colours you want on your face.” He takes his time looking through the palettes, picking his favourites. Once he’s chosen, you put everything else away, an attempt to keep things organized, and get to work. His face twitches less than you expected, though you don’t know why you’re surprised since he does have this done nearly everyday. You do laugh when the powder makes him sneeze, only laughing harder when he sends a little glare your way. You take your time, humming to yourself as you continue. You make sure to emphasize your favourite features of his - his jawline, the curve of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, his striking gaze. By the time you’re working on his lips, you’re the one blushing, butterflies soaring back and forth, up and down, all throughout your stomach. When you announce that the makeup is finished, he tries to look, but you won’t let him. He pouts at you, and it almost works, but you’re able to hold strong. You block his view of the mirror, instead asking what he’d like done with his hair.

“I tried to put it in like… a cute bun. I’ve never been good at doing my hair..”

“Aye, Aye captain!” He cringes at this.

“Ew, don’t call me that, you sound like Jisung.” It makes you giggle. You thank your past self for thinking to detangle his hair, it made your job a lot easier. It doesn’t take long at all to have his hair up nicely. You excitedly tell him to stay put, running to the bathroom to retrieve your box of hairpins. He picks a pair of pretty silver ones with a design of twirling, vine-like flowers. You’re careful as you put them in, not wanting to mess up your creation and also trying to avoid irritating his scalp where he tugged at his hair previously. Once you’re sure that they’re perfect, you slowly back away, taking in your work.

“Oh come on, you’re overreacting.” He says it in an attempt to hide the blush, because you genuinely are not. Even though you’re the one that did this for him, you release an involuntary gasp when you see the finished product in all his glory. Your eyes are shining, your heart is beating fast, and heat prickles at the skin of your cheeks. You move a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide how flustered you really are. “Okay now I know you’re just be-” He turns mid-sentence, any words he was about to say slipping away as he sees himself. He almost looks like he’s seeing himself for the first time. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes wide, unblinking. Your heart swells when he leans closer, raising a hand to his reflection. A gasp of his own spills out of his lips, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. You know the answer before you ask the question.

“Do you… like it?” Before you can even blink, Changbin has turned around, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around the room. An incredulous, joyful laugh is the only answer you need. He’s still holding you, even as he sets you down, and he’s quick to lean in for a hard kiss - unable to express what he’s feeling in words. You’re giggling when his lips move all over the skin of your face, raising your arms to shield yourself from him.

“Stop it! You’ll ruin your lipstick Seo Changbin!” You don’t think he cares, judging by the way he loops his arms around you and kisses you again. And again. And again. He’s breathing heavily when he sets you back down, on your bed this time. He’s awestruck as he looks into your eyes.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Your ears are heating as he speaks in between his kisses pressed to any skin he can reach.

“Yeah, yeah, pretty boy, now let me take pictures of you before you ruin my creation.” He obliges, sitting still for you, posing for you, his bright smile visible in every picture. Before you can put your phone away, he forces you into a few selfies with him, despite your insistence that he’s going to make you look like a wet rat.

He’s calm, content when you help him clean the makeup off and take his hair down later that night. You never stray too far from each other, both of your lips pressing against the other’s skin, smiling against them, holding them tight. You never want to let go of him.

“I really do love you. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have you. You said that I was the sweet one. The loving one. The caring one. The accepting one. But I couldn’t be any of those things without you giving the same to me. So thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Binnie.” Your head rests against his chest as the two of you talk, laying in the quiet darkness of your bedroom. “I’ll spend my entire life reminding you that you’re beautiful, and I’d never get bored of it.” He doesn’t respond, at least not so loudly. But the way his arms tighten as he pulls you impossibly closer, the way you feel the gentle touch of his lips against the top of your head, the deep muttering of ‘I love you’ tells you everything you need to know. He’ll never let go of you either.

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huihuiheart · 2 years

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Double Edged - Changbin

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Stray Kids Masterlist

Pairing: Executioner! Changbin x Dark Queen! F Reader

Summary: Changbin was devoted to you, to the point of worshipping the ground you walked on. He was determined to make sure that you never dirtied your hand or even lifted a finger for that matter, even if it meant he had to everything himself.

Warnings: Reader is pretty toxic, toxic/abusive family shit (mentions of yelling and crashing sounds), murder, death, blood, manipulation, cursing, branding, implied sex.

Word Count: 2220

You were poisonous, Changbin knew it well and yet he kept coming back to drink from your cup again and again as if it could do him no harm. Oftentimes he wondered if he was cursed to be so tangled up in your web, unable to escape no matter how hard he tried, not that he really ever tried. Or perhaps it was the fact that he had known you for so long that he had seen you become the person you are now, going from the quiet good girl who always obeyed through a villain arc into the most feared queen in all the lands. Every little interaction leading up to this was carved into his memory, making a home for itself so that you would never forget the queen...his queen.

His first day of training in the king’s court as a guard, he was still young back then, still waiting to grow into the battle-hardened man he was today. You follow behind the king, head down keeping your place silently, following the tradition of seen and not heard. Convincing Changbin’s teenage heart that love at first sight, was indeed real, determined to catch your eye no matter what it cost. And cost him it would. He had first thought it luck though when he had been picked to be a part of your personal guards until the older ones pulled him aside urging him to remain silent no matter what he saw or heard pertaining to you. Something he wished he had never listened to, something he wished he could go back in time to spare you from. Knowing now the way the muffled yells and crashing he heard outside the door would scar you. Keeping you tied down into the good girl role far too long and leading you far beyond your breaking point.

That’s when things slowly started to change, Changbin letting you pull him into a dark room watching as he fumbled to create space between you as you looked up at him with the sweetest eyes and he knew then he was gone. He’d fall onto his sword if you simply asked him to do so.

“Changbin, what would you do for me?” You asked, reaching out and taking his calloused hand into both of your softer ones, holding it close to your chest.

“Anything princess. Just say the word and it’ll be yours. I swear it.” Changbin bowed his head, giving her the first taste of devotion she’d ever had. Ready to worship the goddess before him on his knees if necessary just to be in her presence. Attempting to make up for all the pain and suffering, show her all that she was truly worth. Perhaps not easing her into it had been his mistake, but he lived and would die by it.

“Teach me to protect myself? Help me learn to wield a weapon? I’m tired of being hurt.” Your hand reached out, cupping his cheek and guiding him to look up at you now, “Can you do that for me Changbin?”

Changbin felt himself nodding into your touch before he even fully registered your words. Leading to an agreement of many dark nights spent pressed together while he taught you how to use any weapon you so desired. Of course a woman as dangerous as you had other weapons at her disposal, not just the physical ones he taught you to hold. He knew this well, falling victim to them himself. Still, he would help you become deadly in any sense of the word, with no hesitation. Even going so far as gifting you custom weapons of your own, spending every coin he’d earned through the years since he first saw you. A long sword with a spiraling blade, unlike anything you’d ever seen, grip wrapped in leather as black as night, but what stood out to you were the emeralds and rubies decorating the pommel and rain-guard. Two matching daggers going along with it as he kneeled before you, handing them over with a bowed head. When he looked up again, meeting your eyes they screamed danger, making his heart pound as logic told him to run, and yet he was stuck here before you instead, not going anywhere.

Changbin was the only one you came crying to though, putting up your mask around anyone else. In that way, some things never changed. Holding you in his arms as you cried through the night of your twenty-first birthday instead of truly enjoying yourself as he felt you should be able to. Knowing your family however this came as no surprise to him, what did though were the words that came out of your mouth between shattered sobs.

“I’m to be married at the end of the month Changbin. They don’t even care what I think, just about the power it’ll bring. His kingdom joined with ours...” As he listens to you spill your heart out he feels his own bleeding with pain, reminded that you are just out of his reach and he’s helplessly stuck that way, “I met him tonight...he’s much older and just like them. Only wanting me to look pretty and submit like a good little puppet they can show off to everyone.”

He watched you, the woman he loved, shattering before him. Your parents, the ones who are supposed to protect you are too power-crazed to do anything other than use and hurt you time and time again while he sat and watched as if trapped behind a mirror watching your life from afar instead of standing right at your side.

“Changbin...” The way his name dripped off your tongue now was unlike anything he had heard before and it instantly demanded his attention, looking at your tear-stained face waiting for the next venomous words to drop, “I want you to kill him...kill my husband on our wedding night. Before he has a chance to lay a fucking hand on me.”

“Anything you desire princess.” He bows again, Changbin probably should have been more torn up about agreeing to that demand so easily, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel so. In fact, he almost felt self-indulged to kill someone who would attempt to own you, caging you up instead of giving you a chance to finally be free after so long. No more though, he was going to get you your freedom.

Changbin waited in the honeymoon suite, hidden from sight on your wedding night until he heard the door close behind you and the king you’d just wed. Slipping out and behind him, wasting no time in killing him only to find that you had snuck out of the room in that time. His heart pounding, thinking perhaps you had set him up, or worse...something had happened to you. So instead of running away, he found himself running through the halls in search of you. Shoving through a crowd of guards to see what was going on. Finding you on your knees behind the bodies of your parents, blood staining everything as tears dripped from your eyes. The guards panicked as they determined they should find who killed them, but he already knew seeing the matching daggers dripping blood beside each lifeless body now, recognizing them in an instant. Watching you push yourself onto your feet, wedding dress heavy now that it had soaked up so much.

“I overheard it was a plot from our neighbors. The Agrisea Kingdom, to kill all the royals on what was meant to be a joyous day.” You say, stepping over the bodies to pick up your daggers, lifting the dress to sheath them on your thighs while blood trickles off your dress and down your arms, revealing the truth to all the guards there, “We should get our revenge, no?”

Changbin knew your question wasn’t out of curiosity, but instead to challenge one of them to do something against you. All too stunned to move from their place he knew his time had come. To prove his loyalty to you again, hoping selfishly to be rewarded with the opportunity to stay at your side again. Kneeling before you with head bowed.

“Whatever you order, my queen.”

The honorific had been enough to snap everyone out of their daze that day. Most quickly pledged their allegiance to their new queen and if they didn’t then they disappeared, no questions asked. Changbin started to get what he desired though, his sacrifices getting him more and more of your attention and he was eating it up. Doing whatever dirty work you asked of him as you started reforming the kingdom to fit your image of perfection. Quickly taking over the Agrisea Kingdom for the sake of “revenge”, giving you a total of three now under your control. Having Changbin guide you through them on a tour to select people you wanted in the castle with you. Women only for your court and to run things along with you, while the men served as mindless muscle and protection. Serving the powerful women of the kingdom and ripping any remnants of misogyny to shreds. He watched however as you branded the right forearm of every man you recruited for your private battlement with your insignia while his skin remained untouched by your mark. Well, aside from the aftermath of getting called to keep you company through lonely nights. He knew it was dangerous to crave such things from you and yet he couldn’t help himself, nearly resorting to begging you to leave the same mark on him to wear with pride.

The day came before he reached his breaking point though, getting called in along with 4 of the soldiers from before you took over. The ones who had been quick to not only submit but also support you and whom he knew well. All kneeling before you, Changbin the only one bold enough to look up and watch you wide-eyed and lovesick as he often did. Catching your smirk as you rose from the throne, stepping down to toy with the handle of the branding iron currently engulfed in flames.

“You are the five who have shown me the most loyalty and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Rise. Your reward has come.” You watch as they all obey, following the direction to remove their shirts, Changbin the only one still facing you. Watching as you marked the right shoulder blade on the other four, still skipping over him. “You four are to be my generals. Bang Chan, you get the Northern troops. Minho, Eastern. Hyunjin, the south. And Jisung the western. Everyone can leave me and Changbin now.”

“My queen? Have I upset you in some way?” Changbin brings himself to finally ask when he finds himself alone in a room with you. Letting you catch his jaw in your hand, it feels as gentle as always to him.

“You know me Changbin, if you had you would have already paid for it by now.” You assure him, leaning in to place a fleeting kiss on his lips, “No, you’ve simply had to wait because I was working to get things in order. You are the person I trust most in this world though Changbin. You were loyal to me long before I was even loyal to myself, and for that, I will give you the world my general... my executioner.”

His eyes immediately caught sight of your finger curling to gesture him forward, placing the branding iron on the left side of his chest over where his heart was, marking his new position as official. Changbin clenches his teeth through the pain but quickly forgets about it as you pull him in for another kiss, this time letting it linger.

“I’ve never forgotten about your gift to me Changbin, I cherish that blade more than I do my crown. So I thought I’d give you something in return.” You smile, leading him closer to your throne as you grab something hidden behind it. It takes most of your strength to do so and hand it to him. Changbin’s eyes widen as he takes the ax from you, adoring how it perfectly matched the weapons he gifted you as if they had all come together.

“Thank you, my queen. It’ll never leave my side, a constant reminder of who I belong to. Just as this is.” Changbin promises, placing his hand over the fresh burn on his chest. Heart skipping a beat as you lean in to whisper into his ear.

“You’ve given me everything Changbin, I’ll do the same for you now. Just ask it of your queen and I’ll make yours.” You promise him and it sends shivers down his spine, looking into your eyes as you pull back to look at his face.

“There’s only one thing I want from my queen. That you accept my love for you, my devotion to you. Let me worship you for all to see, I want everyone to know I feel for you.” Changbin’s words are almost whimpered out as he finally gets a chance to confess to you after all this time as if no one could have figured it out.

“Hush Changbin, it’s okay. You don’t have to wait for that any longer. I’ll make it so.”

Be on the lookout for an announcement regarding the Double Edged Series coming soon.

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nobodyeverasked · 2 years

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here’s to us; seo changbin

(6,515 words) - large

summary ➣ A past history of mistakes and unresolved conflicts left Y/N and Changbin’s once flourishing friendship in shambles. When they find each other as neighbours in the same apartment complex, though, they end up spending a lot more time together than they ever intended to.

genre ➣ fluff

requested - 👍

.・゜-: ✧ :- .・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・. -: ✧ :-゜・．

Y/N dusted his hands off as he shoved another box into the corner of his still empty apartment, the only thing now taking up space on the sheen of the laminate floorboards being the stacks and arrangements of mismatched and misplaced boxes. Boxes for the kitchen wound up in the far corner of the living space, the mattress was in the bathroom, pillows and sheets on top of a long container Y/N would probably use as a couch until he finally wasn’t lazy enough to unpack and build the one he bought hours before he was set to move into this place.

This was the first place Y/N’s ever owned, and even the sunlight could tell as it shone on all the scattered boxes with what felt like a teasing chuckle in its shimmer. It was far from the suburb where he started, and even farther from the schools he went to during times he thought that was all life had to offer. Every step outside the threshold of what he knew was this ever-constant expansion of a story he never quite knew how to write properly, and as he stared out to his rooms of soon-to-be actual furniture, he realized that the long, enduring shines of what he thought were hard times and slow paces were just a flicker of sunset-stained light to him now.

Seungmin hunched over beside him to heave a dramatic groan, a box between his legs as they both stood by the doorway. Looking at him with a fond smile, Y/N realized how easy it was to laugh at who he was, who he used to be; all the shades of him Seungmin had to put up with, and the sides of Seungmin that Y/N still needs to put up with from time to time.

“All this lifting is either gonna make me hella swole or give me fucking scoliosis.”

“Yeah, I’m not letting either of those happen ‘cause I know you won’t shut up about either.” Y/N cringed at the thought of both images in his head. and took Seungmin’s box into his hands. He completely ignored the scrawlings on its side and put it by the kitchen’s archway - the system that he and Seungmin devised in the car were completely futile and useless at this point. He was quite impressed, actually, with how quickly they could dismantle their shoddily arranged plans to be organized - at least that part of them, they will never outgrow.

Watching as the sunlight caught their heavy breaths and strained laughter, worn out by all the lifting, as Seungmin caught up to him through the doorway, Y/N couldn’t help but think that they never quite grew at all - finding themselves in a world too large to fit in. But they liked it that way, knowing that things were never going to stop changing, expanding, and that their quest on drunkenly chasing sunsets just out of reach was just a part of life.

“Thanks. Love you too, Y/N.”

They made their way up to the windows at the end of the living area, and stared out toward the cityscape, the afternoon’s clear blue sky dipping all the tips of the buildings in the ivories of the afternoon sunlight, and setting alight this motion that will never cease even when the blues of the sky are snuffed out by the night. FInally getting to be a part of this, adding their colours into the sunset, was both all they ever dreamed of and yet something they barely thought twice about; it was surreal.

“So, moving in, check,” Y/N surveyed the room, his feeling of accomplishment instantly stifled by the beiges and dull browns of the boxes they brought with them and had strewn about the floor. Somehow, the room looked emptier than it did when they started. “Okay, half-check, maybe quarter-check…”

“I’m okay with sleeping in the car tonight, there’s no way we’re bringing these boxes in here and taking the shit out of the boxes on the same day.” Seungmin shuddered at the thought of even opening the boxes with the room keys Y/N was given - they left the one thing they really needed, their box-cutter, at Seungmin’s place. Even beginning to comprehend opening the boxes, taking the assorted things out, thinking about where they needed to go, and putting them in places!? It literally shorted out Seungmin’s mind.

“Wow, ‘cause doing two separate things in one sitting…? That’s a crazy concept.” Y/N only let out a chuckle at Seungmin’s whines and cries into the ceiling, wondering about how they even graduated college with official degrees and everything. “But we can take a break and I’ll do the rest. I know how doing work really racks your brain…” It was Seungmin’s turn to let a faint, still breathless chuckle wander about the room, tracking its own light across where sunlight pooled and dripped down boxes and between floorboards. “I really appreciate you coming and helping me.”

“Excuse me.” Seungmin moved in to wrap an arm around Y/N, bringing him to an embrace that only Y/N’s even been wrapped up in. That lazy, one-armed hug of Seungmin’s that made all of Y/N’s worries flutter away. “What kind of 3-in-the-morning-hookup-turned-bestie would I be if I didn’t help you move into your first apartment?”

Now that they’re friends, all their years of hormonal and desperation-induced horniness put aside - for the most part - Seungmin will never lose an opportunity to remind them of how it all started. A vodka-induced blur of UNO cards, mood lighting, and Y/N turning his head in just the right way to catch the shimmering violet LEDs in his eyes, the moonlight’s flowers falling around him, spilling down the vintage tank top and fishnet sleeves one of their mutual friends picked out for him. Y/N hit him with a +4 for the third time that night, and Seungmin had enough and lunged for him.

They’ve been side by side ever since, put in each other’s friend zones the moment they had the chance.

“Can you please stop talking about that…?” Y/N hid his face in his hands, the only thing he was reminded of being that awkward conversation they had the morning of through their hangovers. “I can’t believe I asked if I was a bad kisser…”

“Well, we haven’t since that day, so I think you got your answer-” Seungmin was cut off by a jab to his stomach, and his wince in pain unfolded into unyielding laughter.

“Let’s get some sustenance before you make me regret my life choices yet again.”

Following in the echoes of Seungmin’s laughter, they made their way back out the door, prepared to get lost in those never-ending plazas of hipster-style coffee shops. They were just about to lock up with the keys Y/N had tucked away in his pocket before they heard this clacking jangle of yet another set of freshly assigned room keys spilling out from the elevator just down the hall. It’s only been a few long, grueling hours, but Y/N’s already used to the way the plastic tag with his room number used to ring against his other keys - at least before Seungmin tore it off in a fit of rage since the sound was just a little too annoying for him.

They both looked up from the door’s lock, trailing the sound of the footsteps that came with the careless jangle of the keys, until the figure made it to the door right next to theirs. Y/N kept staring, their silhouette against the odd shade of maroon that was slathered on their hallways, it looked so familiar. It wasn’t until their eyes locked that all parties involved realized that it was too late, the mistake was already made.

His neighbour, the person he’ll be living next to until one of them get evicted or are forced on the run, is none other than Seo Changbin; the scourge of his last few years of encroaching deadlines, thesis statements and work that’d drive him into sleepless nights. However, Y/N knew that he was just as much a menace to Changbin, too, they didn’t make it easy for each other.

They instantly recoiled and set curses alight in the air, while Seungmin just stood there, awe-struck and too in the loop on their history - all the secrecy he’s sworn to Y/N under dim lamplight and over psychology textbooks now slipped out from under his tongue in a stammered sound that only made the angered, flustered heat in Changbin’s face burn brighter, boil over.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Changbin cried out, throwing his hands up in the air.

“No… This can’t be real, this has to be the caffeine withdrawal kicking in…” Y/N’s voice was a lot softer than Changbin’s but the emotions that stirred in him were just as viscous, making the anger that coated his words just as dense and heavy and suffocating. Seungmin wanted to reach out and stand between them, toss haphazard insults in Changbin’s face for all the things he’s put Y/N’s heart through. But he also understood their trials and tribulations a little too well - he didn’t know if it was his place, so he just stayed back.

“I can’t believe you’re my neighbour! Out of all places…”

“I was here first! You’re MY neighbour, bitch!”

Changbin waved off Y/N’s retort with a shake of his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and thinking back to all they days swallowed up by his and Y/N’s arguments, by their unread texts and unlistened-to voicemails and all the things in between that they failed to tie off and leave to rest - yet it still left knots in their stomachs. “As if life couldn’t get any fucking worse.”

“It can get a lot fucking worse…”

They locked eyes once again, and it’s been so long since they’ve done so. All the sparks and light and colour that once dyed their stares are gone or changed too drastically for them to notice. All they could make out of their glares as they took each other in was the moment they couldn’t bear to look each other in the eye anymore, when they needed to see their mutuals in shifts and when they’d talk shit behind each other’s backs and claim it was ‘venting’.

They thought that the moment they left that school, the moment they left each other’s circles and became their own people, all the spectacle and hardship and bitterness in retrospect would fall from their firsts. However, they figured out the hard way that all the tension, all the grudges, and turmoil they held between each other were all still wound up in their fists.

“Believe me, I know.”

Y/N couldn’t stop himself from throwing something right back, no matter how thoughtless it was. Seeing Changbin here, it made Y/N fall back on who he used to be back when they meant something to each other.. The Y/N who always needed to get the last word in so nobody could say anything else, the Y/N who always needed to fight back and fight for himself when he felt too unsafe to have anybody fight for him. The Y/N who was constantly feeling the need to protect himself and what he held close to his chest in fear that it would all be stolen away from him. It just all flooded back, and Changbin was that glaring reminder that he’ll never truly abandon the shadows and doubt in him that helped tear this rift between them in the first place.

“I’ve learned not to believe the things you say.”

In that moment of silence that almost bordered on remorseful, Changbin lowered his eyes and slipped through the front door of his apartment - not forgetting to slam it behind him just to be petty and rupture the air lit ablaze that he already left Y/N and Seungmin to stand in. Y/N tried to shake all of it off, this immediate, intense spike of anger that made all of his skin want to recede, curl in on itself, and let his blood simmer in the same ways it did the last time he saw Changbin’s face - he wondered if that anger, that unyielding, painful anger, would render him just as restless yet fatigued as it did last time. He could already feel it filing in, all the agonies he thought he uprooted and threw away with the rest of the parts he hated about his undergrad years.

But here Changbin was, a shining star in all his nights spent parading down streets with people he can barely remember, all his mornings hungover and time slipping away from him like the wishes he’d toss out to any sky that would listen - the wishes to stay in these moments forever. His earnestness, his dedication to a life that was nothing but an illusion that left him with a really shitty headache, all he wanted to do was separate himself from all of it. There was once a time where Changbin was the only thing left to smile for in that life of veneers and veiled ‘I’m fine’s and collapsed emotional intelligence.

All those mornings pulled taut around them as Changbin would slip under the space in Y/N’s covers that he always left for him - Changbin’s hands combing back Y/N’s hair, hands comfortingly and instinctively settled on his hips, the whispers into his shoulders in that delicate melody that surprised Y/N even still. They would spend all of their mornings like that, and leave Seungmin to walk in on them tangled up in bedsheets with the dawn’s light pulled out from under them as they’d be fast asleep by noon, Y/N on Changbin’s chest, arms at his waist. Seungmin’s exclamations were always the funniest things, and Y/N and Changbin would ease it into every conversation they had when Seungmin would walk with them to their regular coffee shop.

That coffee shop was leagues away now, and so are the colours that painted those memories with such vivid beauty.

Y/N wanted to laugh and smile and reminisce on those days, but he couldn’t help but let a scowl out first with how quickly they both let them unravel and fall and crumble and fade away not just nothing, but twist up into something so much worse. They just couldn’t help but fan each other’s flames in attempts to build things back up in the worst ways.

Drunk altercations at parties, desperate attempts to reclaim what they had in five-minute windows as their friends went to pick up food, conversations they had where nobody was truly listening. They just made it so much worse.

“Are you okay, Y/N…? That was a pretty rude awakening to our new life, huh…?” Seungmin tried to laugh off the stale silence between him and Y/N, the ashes of the curses Y/N and Changbin hurled into the air. But as Y/N turned around and scrubbed at his face with his hands, there was this unreadable glint in his expression that left Seungmin with nothing left to say, nothing left to play off. He could tell Y/N was holding something back - he was holding everything back.

Y/N let his head fall against Seungmin’s shoulder as he moved in to wrap his arms around Y/N and pull him into a wordless embrace.

“Now I really need coffee if I’m gonna survive this…”

It took a lot more than just an obscenely large cup of coffee to help Y/N survive his circumstances. It took wasting hours and hours of his time unpacking and moving and re-moving furniture around his room until all he could think about was the sound of boxes and half-finished shelves screeching against the laminate flooring, and not the opening and closing of the door right next to his. It took Y/N dragging Seungmin out under an early violet evening to take their minds off everything, wander the town, get lost in the streets, do whatever they could to get sidetracked and do anything but acknowledge Changbin, what they were, what they used to be, and even, to a certain extent, what they are now.

A lot of who Y/N and Changbin are have been lost to them now, over a couple summers of no contact, of severing phone lines and patterns of daily text conversations - good, filled with affection, or bad, nothing but unintelligible arguments in all caps. The uncertainty, the threat of retrospect scared Y/N, and he wanted to do anything but confront what actually happened. All he wanted to do was remember the emotions that followed, their intensity, their potency, how they strangled any rational thought - ironically, it was easier than reflecting on it, and Y/N and Seungmin would always chuckle about how much they thought they’ve grown. Yet Y/N can’t seem to wrap his head around Changbin.

As desperately as Y/N’s wanted to avoid Changbin - and vice versa - over the last few weeks since their harrowing discovery of being neighbours, it’s as if their days have consisted of nothing but glimpses of each other. They enter the hall at the same time, share agonizingly long elevator rides to the ground floor to pick up food, and sit on opposite benches in the laundry room as they wait for their dry-cleaning to be done. It’s as if the universe, those sick and twisted and spiteful laws of gravity have forced them to revolve around each other - and they hated it.

However, they didn’t necessarily know why, all they knew was that they saw each other, and anger flowed through them. They’ve had their moments of silent, reluctant reflection on why or how it could be as they let their eyes drift across each other in lines at the same coffee shop, or as Changbin catches Y/N and Seungmin slipping through their front door and their gazes line up just right. They don’t even recoil as they see each other, there’s simply this blankness that rests between them, one that’s waiting for answers.

Y/N leaned against the washing machine as he slammed the door shut and let it start up with a chug and a rumble, as its mechanical stutters always seemed to satisfying to him - then again, anything was a little bit more peaceful than the sassy lilt in Seungmin’s voice, as much as Y/N loved it. He drew his phone from his pocket, something to distract himself from the quiet of the room, but as soon as he let his gaze drift over the top of his screen, he caught a figure stumbling through the doorway with a basket teeming with crumpled shirts, constantly teetering off balance.

“Here, let me help you.” Y/N murmured before slipping his phone back into his pocket and rushing over to help this person steady themselves. He took the basket from them, set it on the nearest bench and gave a dramatic, heaving sigh of relief as he noted the brief sting in his arms and how heavy this basket actually was. “I honestly think this place should put height restrictions on piles of clothes, they’re literally hazards.” Y/N said without looking up, a blur of familiar colours shifting about in the corner of his eyes only clearing up as a just as familiar voice - one that lingered in the light and shadow of all his college days - rose into the air between them.

Changbin scratched at the back of his head, something that bordered on a nervous smile seeping into the stoicism of his indifferent expression. “Yes, clothing is a hazard indeed. Becoming a nudist colony would solve all our problems.”

Slight laughter escaped Y/N before he fully turned to take in Changbin, a half smile now remorselessly stamped on his face. Y/N wanted to catch it, chase it around the corner and through the doorway, but he just let it fall out as they looked at each other, took each other in under this surprisingly weightless silence that fell in the cracks of Y/N’s faded chuckling. Changbin in a hoodie, half-zipped and exposing basically all his chest - inches of skin that Y/N can recall with almost too much ease, sweats hung low around his waist; and Changbin couldn’t help but catch the way these warm overhead lights caught the glow in Y/N’s cheeks, as he seemed set alight by a loose, dark knit sweater and some loose trousers.

They stood like that for a while, until Changbin struggled through the layers of silence piling on top of them. This was what they seemed to be now, not stifled in heaps of animated groans and tyrades in hallways with vitriol spewed from their mouths, not even rolling eyes and scoffs or heavy sighs. It was this…

This easy yet uneasy, this deafening yet oddly serene type of quiet. It was one that practically begged them to speak, urged them to fill it with something. But with every interaction they’ve had over the past few days - bumping into each other in the library, mixing up their coffee orders since they’ve still seemed to order the same exact thing after two years, and, like now, finding each other as the only ones in this apartment complex who seem to wash their clothes on a regular basis - they’ve left that silence disappointed with hasty getaways and awkward farewells.

Changbin couldn’t help but be drawn in, though, drawn into this silence by the way Y/N stood turned out toward him like this. He was almost expectant, but Changbin couldn’t tell for sure. The light in Y/N’s eyes have changed a bit, but they still haven’t lost that luster, and the melody of sarcasm that always hung on the end of Y/N’s words - something he conditioned himself to hate - left this sweet aftertaste in the air.

“Hi…”

Was all Changbin could think of, a vacant, drawing ‘hi’ as if they haven’t been in each other’s presence for the past few minutes and decided against all the instincts that begged to run, be rid of this. He stuck with the way his heart wanted him to remain completely still. Don’t move, stay here, look for a little bit longer…

“Uh… Hey…” Was all Y/N could say back, completely frozen with his head turned toward Changbin. Despite all the urges that have fueled his anger and frustrations for the past couple years, Y/N, too, has found himself incapable of looking away. That slight, hesitant smile, the shine in his eyes that he only lets certain people ever see; these were things that were nothing but painful reminders of a lifetime’s worth of fuck-ups and misguided impulses and mornings in lecture halls with hangover-induced migranes and wasting life away one mistake at a time, thinking there was so much more of it left. However, these things that used to be so agonizing to remember have, all of the sudden, assumed their former light.

It was as if they were experiencing each other for the first time, all over again.

“Wow, we're off to a wonderful start.” Changbin peeled another chuckle from his tongue, feeling that mocking sting of awkwardness between them. He didn’t expect anything else, hell, he didn’t expect to make it this far - for Y/N to meet his gaze and not instantly flee the vicinity. He couldn’t help but keep his smile on as Y/N returned his awkward laughter with a slight, faint giggle of his own, a particular melody he let fill the room whenever he was trying too hard to find something to say.

Y/N shrugged, he didn’t expect to make it this far with Changbin either. Even if they were victims of circumstance, caught in the laundry room yet again with nothing but the whirring of the machines to keep them company in their thick, suffocating idling, it was better than nothing, and better than how they started out. “Well, I mean, it’s a lot better than the other ways I imagined it going.”

“True.” Changbin crossed his arms and nodded, taking in how Y/N averted his gaze, but only slightly until it fell back onto Changbin - as if he was reading him. Based on how things ended between them, how things crashed and burned around them, went up in all the sunset-coloured flames they lit under each other’s skin, he couldn’t blame Y/N for the caution he was taking.

As much as he wanted to tell Y/N to just let go, and urge him that things were okay, Changbin wasn’t completely convinced of that himself, even as they were getting accustomed to this new, foreign and strange sense of comfort between them. He wanted Y/N to talk to him, though, to stay here and pass the time with him - even if two years worth of silence and then a couple weeks of non-stop antagonism may have implied otherwise.

“So… Are you gonna stay here a while, or…?”

“I mean, yeah, Seungmin and I went thrifting and we have no idea where that shit has been, so…”

Y/N trailed off, not really recognizing his words before saying them as he fidgeted with his hands and gestured meekly toward the washer he claimed as his. They can recall with something close to a fond smile, an argument they had over Changbin using it for himself, and accidentally washing the brightness out of all Y/N’s whites the next day. The Sherlock Holmes-level investigation Y/N and Seungmin underwent, and that tense altercation at Changbin’s doorway - even that leaves Changbin thinking about all the things he still likes about Y/N, hsi scrunch-nosed scowl, that serious glint in his eye, that accomplished air he gets whenever he’s right.

Y/N felt this need to continue the conversation, and he found himself grasping at empty air for words. “Are you…?”

“Yeah, I got way too much shit to wash.”

“Right…”

This silence, this stifling, overly and unnecessarily awkward silence, Changbin couldn’t bear it and neither could Y/N. They had questions, so many questions burning on the tips of their tongues, seething through their pursed lips. Y/N couldn’t keep it in anymore, he couldn’t just walk away from their issues like they did back then.

“Hey, Changbin…?” As Changbin fully turned out to meet Y/N, he suddenly felt any urge to speak, any urge to bring up that tension lingering between them suddenly fell away from him, slipping from his grasp. He wasn’t too sure whether he had a grip on it in the first place. “Can I ask you something…?”

“Uh, sure, go for it.”

Y/N took a breath. He didn’t know if he was ready to unearth all these feelings, all the memories and feelings associated with all their stupid actions, but something - this comforting, stoic glint in Changbin’s unmoving, stable gaze - let Y/N know that it wasn’t going to be as bad as he thinks it will.

“How did all this shit start?” It was all rushing back in, long nights, mornings cut short and eclipsed by Changbin’s shoulders, all the honey splayed out before them on every evening they spent together, and all the burnt sugar on the ends of their horizons as they watched everything burn to the ground, feeding the fires with incoherent arguments and words they can never take back - even now… “I mean, of course I know, but…”

Before all of this, before they’ve trudged through years of their calamitous fallout that’s still left them confused to a certain extent, Y/N and Changbin used to be everything to each other. At least, their concept of everything at the time - they were young, impulsive, needy, dependent, misguided children who saw what they thought was all they needed in a passerby at one of their mutual friend’s get-togethers. Y/N just seemed to stand out enough in the strobe lighting with that beautiful, tipsy smile of his, and Changbin just seemed to be good enough of a kisser to keep them in each other’s arms and on each other’s liquor stained minds all night.

They got together and stayed together in this sort of epiphanous state where they thought they were invincible, that they knew everything that was coming, that there was nothing that they couldn’t handle as long as they had each other to waste away the days with, down them like they did the tequila shots that brought them together in the first place. Their home was built atop a shaky foundation, a home that was never meant to last. It was only a matter of time until they collapsed in on themselves like stars burning too bright.

Even with all they felt they were, how much of the world they thought they wrapped their head around, they never could’ve prepared themselves for how much work it was going to be to keep up the kind of relationship that they wanted and expected from each other. They went into it blind, and they ended up being blind to each other, what they truly wanted and needed, and how they were destroying each other in the process. The idea of love was lost upon them, the idea of true, heartfelt attraction was cracked and frail and fragile. They didn’t communicate until it was too late, and when they did communicate, it was through tyrades of shit-talk behind each other’s backs, through text conversations that only left them worse off than they initially were, and smouldering looks through hallways and across lecture halls and then nothing - as if they billowed out into their finally breaths of smoke.

“Things just changed so quickly, you know? And I feel like we never had any closure aside from just… Not talking anymore…” Now here they were, staring into each other’s eyes and seeing everything they’ve been through in their stares. It made them stop to gather their breath for a second, all the breath they stole from each other and all the breath they wasted on saying nasty, hurtful things to each other while they could’ve just talked like normal people, like they are now… “Even now, just a few weeks ago, we were screaming at the top of our lungs and foaming at the mouth because of how much we hated each other. But I can’t help but look back on it and think about what was actually so bad about it - or rather, all the things we blew out of proportion.”

“Yeah… We’ve felt pretty heightened emotions based on this one thing, but when I look back on it too, I just think about how stupid we were for dragging it out this long…” Changbin shook his head as he made his way over to Y/N, and Y/N welcomed Changbin’s touch as he rested his hand on Y/N’s arm, fingers dancing along the seam of his sweater sleeve. “We were just wrong for each other at the time, we basically destroyed each other, and I would never want to hurt you… I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“I never wanted to hurt you either, I never wanted us to feel that kind of pain…” Y/N took a breath, absently playing around with the zipper of Changbin’s half-zipped hoodie. His voice was quiet, uncertain, and barely there as he spoke. He never thought they’d ever get this far, and he could feel his breath leaking from his chest. “I still feel awful, though, because I liked you… A lot… I was just so confused and misguided at the time, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t have to be then, either.” With a faint smile, Changbin nudged Y/N in the chest. Y/N’s faint giggle only made it easier for him to continue. These are all the things he’s wanted to say for so long, it was difficult to find the words at the start, but now, he could feel them flooding out - things he’s always wanted to say, things he’s always wanted Y/N to hear. “Something tells me that we spent a lot of time either being sorry for ourselves or for each other…”

“Okay, fine. If I’m not sorry for that, then I’m sorry for the way everything turned out - we were fucking messes…” Y/N said, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. “Wow, is this what it’s like…? Talking like actual human beings…?”

“Crazy concept, I know… We’ve been ‘fucking messes’ for far too long.”

This silence bloomed in between them, not like a cloud of smoke that left them blinded from the words that they were going to say next. But it was comforting, this moment of recognition, patches of beautiful tulips and roses that reminded them of how relieving silence could be.

“Hey…” Changbin moved a little closer, his hands that traced Y/N’s arms tentatively grew braver, taking Y/N by his hands, finding space between his fingers. Y/N didn’t stop him, he didn't want Changbin to stop. He just let Changbin bring him closer, ever-so-slightly closer with the slightest tug on his hands, on his wrists.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad we’re here.”

This was how it all started, and it was by this faint, delicate grasp on Y/N’s fingertips that they chose to end by too. But if this closing distance between them was any indication, then their flames were far from burning out. Changbin took Y/N’s chin in his hand, and Y/N felt himself leaning into the gravity that was always there, that pulled them together and forced them apart, that relentless revolution that always kept them closer to each other than they think. He never lost the memory of Changbin’s skin on his…

It was going to be far from a memory.

“Me too…”

Changbin leaned in, Y/N leaned in, and this kiss between them was this brief flicker of the brightest sunlight. A whisper of heavy rain and flashing lightning and roaring thunder, and the instant bloom of the flowers that always came afterward. As Y/N pulled Changbin in and eased his tongue between Changbin’s teeth - almost as easily as it was whenever they were drunk on rum and early sunlight - he realized that this moment between them was always destined to happen, the end of their first world was only the beginning of another.

Their kiss was brief, momentary, but it was all they needed to realize what they had. It was still there in their hands, melting from fingertips, spilling down chests as Y/N brought his arms around Changbin’s neck ona reflex he never truly lost. All of them - every single piece of them that they thought they scattered in the places and people they left behind - was right here. It’s always been in the places they found themselves next.

They pulled back, and it felt as if they were hung on each other’s lips forever.

Changbin had his hands in the curves of Y/N’s neck, and his fingers rose up to take Y/N under his jaw. That subtle smile on Y/N’s lips and the way it glimmered under the warm amber lights seemingly spinning over them, Changbin missed it so much. He couldn’t believe that he ever made resolutions to never see it again, to see anything but beauty in all the light Y/N had between his teeth. Every kiss with Y/N sent Changbin’s head spinning - Y/N’s never lost his touch or the way it wandered, but even in the midst of his dizzying thoughts, Changbin scrambled to say something. He didn’t want this to end.

“Are you free tomorrow…? Maybe we can catch up over some coffee or whatnot?”

“Smooth as always, Binnie.” Y/N rolled his eyes with a giggle, leaning into Changbin’s hands and kissing his palm. He took one of his hands from Changbin’s shoulders to wrap his fingers around Changbin's, squeezing them gently with a widening smile that bordered on that knowing, sarcastic smirk that always bloomed and shone in the night. “That sounds great.”

“I haven’t lost my touch.” Changbin said that, but all he could think about was Y/N’s, and how his lips traced the lines of his palms as if he never forgot the ways Changbin signed their names along Y/N’s spine. How his grip, his clutches and the ways his fingers danced along Changin’s skin sent him reeling, left him senseless for what seemed like never long enough. “See you then?” Changbin reluctantly turned around, and Y/N reluctantly let go.

“See you.”

Changbin was almost out the door, empty-handed, until he was stopped by the ear-piercing shriek of his washing machine’s cry out. It was a shrill beep that marked the half-way point of his washer’s cycle.

Oh, right… The laundry.

Shuffling back into the room with a furious blush on his face, closing his eyes in sheer embarrassment as Y/N’s cackling swiftly flooded the room in its beautiful yet dreadful melody and ring, Changbin made his way back to where Y/N was.

“There there…” Y/N took Changbin in his arms, and just let him soak in the humiliation of yet another awkward goodbye to set atop their countless stacks of them. Frantic waves in the same direction, regular run-ins with corners of walls and posts of door frames as they lost themselves in each other’s eyes on the way out, any goodbye that was left unfinished they’ve already done and experienced and thought too long about. “I guess our awkward goodbyes were never far behind us.”

“We should’ve thought this through…” Changbin murmured into Y/N’s shoulder, still recovering from the trauma that just occurred, but he gathered himself and sat on the bench, looking up at Y/N.

“We never think things through, so this is pretty on brand for us.”

They chuckled at themselves and Y/N joined Changbin on the bench, finding his place right next to Changbin a lot easier than it ever seemed to be. Their laughter petered out, its faint sparks hovering in the air around them, carving into the walls like stars and settling between them. Their hands slowly inched toward each other, fingertips grazing, touching, settling atop each other. The beginning of the eclipsing of their touch after a world of light that seemed so off when their shadows weren’t there to dance in and carve into the sunset.

“Us…” Changbin’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the way he said it. ‘Us’... It sounded so rich, beautiful, gilded sunsets and warm smiles once lost to them. “That sounds nice, ‘us’...”

He knew he couldn’t hate anything of Y/N’s for long, that took too much work. And Y/N’s humour, his voice, his eyes, his skin, his face, the way he seemed to be framed so beautifully in all the clothes he wears, Changbin also knew he could never truly dislike anything of Y/N’s, get tired of any of these things - Y/N made it so difficult to fall out of love with all those little things.

It was only a matter of time until what they thought were their shattered worlds fell back in place, piece by piece.

“Yeah, us…”

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids male reader #stray kids changbin #stray kids changbin x reader #stray kids changbin x male reader #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin x male reader #skz #skz male reader #skz x male reader #skz changbin #skz changbin x reader #skz changbin x male reader #seo changbin #seo changbin x male reader

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blossom-hwa · 2 years

Text

inspired by the conan gray song by the same name. specifically the sped up tiktok version. sue me.

wc: 4.5k ~ changbin x gender neutral!reader ~ university!au, party!au, one-sided love ~ triggers: cursing, mentions of drugs (only in the song, not the story itself), alcohol consumption, allusions to sex, making out but not much else ~ stray kids masterlist

~ When the night is gone and over, you know you won’t see him again. That’s how you know this needs to end.

This party's shit, wish we could dip Go anywhere but here

When you pull up to the house with its flashing lights and thumping music, all you can really think to yourself is one thing.

What am I doing here?

There are a multitude of possible answers. Get drunk. Dance. Have sex. Et cetera. But even as you shove your way through the door with only the most fleeting of smiles at the already-drunk owner, you know that your reason isn’t really one of them.

Well, it kind of is. The third one is part of it. But it’s not so much the having sex part that you really want and more the person you want to find.

Your stomach flips at the thought of him. The guy you like so much, whose kisses feel like a drug – he means everything to you.

It’s too bad you don’t mean much to him.

But in his arms you can pretend, at least, can delude yourself into thinking that what you have is something special. That he would choose you out of a crowd to be with, that he’d go out of his way for you in a way that he wouldn’t for others. It’s pretend, all pretend, but sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking it’s at least a little bit real.

You squeeze through the crowded kitchen, picking up a cup of something along the way. You take a sniff and a sip – it’s disgusting, but what alcohol isn’t – and keep forging through the house. Maybe you can find him. Maybe he hasn’t left yet.

“Y/N.”

A hand grabs your wrist. Turns you around. Your lips thin into a line as you take in the form of someone who is decidedly not the person you were looking for.

Yeonjun stares back, an eyebrow raised, very much looking the part of the disappointed friend who’s been very vocal about your self-destructive party habits for quite some time. His gaze flickers over your clothes, the cup in your hand, and then he looks back into your eyes to search for something he must already know is going to be there.

And it must be, because his face goes dark with disappointment again.

He sighs. You sigh too, ready to pull away and remind him you’re a dumb adult who can make their own dumb decisions without interference, but Yeonjun’s grip tightens around your wrist and you can’t go anywhere.

“Come on,” he snaps, sounding very tired and very worried all at once. “We need to talk.”

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips And please don't drink more beer

Yeonjun somehow magics an empty room out of nowhere, shoving you inside before he enters too. The door shuts with a click and then you two are alone.

He crosses his arms in front of the door. “Why are you here?”

You almost laugh. Wasn’t that the same question you asked yourself as you stepped into the house? The question you know the answer to just as well as Yeonjun does?

When you don’t reply, Yeonjun only sighs. “You’re too attached.”

This time, you do laugh. It comes out bitter, caustic, coated with a layer of self-disgust and desperation. “What, you think I don’t know that?”

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Yeonjun snaps. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N, but he’s just – he’s not –”

Tears threaten to creep their ways out of your eyes and down your cheeks. You force them back. “I know,” you reply, low so your voice doesn’t shake. “I know – but –”

He wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t understand how you have to delude yourself into these moments of pretend, if only just to bask in that blissful fake reality where he loves you back, loves you as much as you love him. Because it’s – it’s not scary, but it hurts to live in a world where Changbin doesn’t really care about you outside of sex and parties. It’s not his fault. He’s not a bad person. He just – he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.

You’ve started crying. You’ve started crying and the only reason you realize is because Yeonjun’s face crumples and in one, two steps he has you wrapped in a hug, a very comforting hug that is nothing like Changbin’s arms but feels so much better in this moment because Changbin’s embrace is nothing but a dream while you know this is very, very real.

“Do you really need him?” Yeonjun whispers, pulling back just enough that you have to look into his eyes. “Y/N, tell me truthfully, do you really need him?”

“It – it feels like I do,” you say, voice thick with everything you want to say but can’t. “It feels like – like if I don’t do this, I’ll have nothing left – no one will love me –”

“That’s not true.” Yeonjun’s hands find their way to your shoulders, holding you steady. “That’s not true, Y/N. People love you. People will always love you. You don’t need to keep chasing after someone who won’t appreciate you the way you deserve just to pretend that you can be loved because you can have that in reality, okay?” His voice softens to a whisper. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please.”

You have half a mind to snap something back out of sheer defense, to ask something like why do you care or what do you have to do with this the same way you did several times before. But the longer you look at Yeonjun, the longer you stare at the lines of the frown on his face, the downward curve of his lips, the hot desperation in his eyes, the more you see something broken in his expression.

Something about as broken as you feel inside.

“Okay.” The word leaves your lips like a breath of air – soft, involuntary, barely a whisper. It surprises you at first – you don’t think you can say it again – but you find the word still on your tongue and it comes out once more, a little louder this time. “Okay. I – I won’t.”

I'ma crawl outta the window now 'Cause I don't like anyone around

Something cracks in Yeonjun’s expression, relief and a thousand other emotions you can’t decipher pouring from every line on his face. It looks a little familiar, this expression, but you can’t quite figure out this mix of emotions and you don’t have the energy to try. You only shed a few tears but it feels like a river poured from your eyes with the way your body just wants to collapse on the floor and knock out right then and there.

“I’m going to leave,” you say, tearing your attention from Yeonjun’s expression to the door behind him.

“Okay.” Yeonjun’s hands fall from your shoulders and you miss their warmth for a moment before another wave of exhaustion crashes over your body and you can’t quite remember it anymore. “Want me to come with you?”

“Did you drive?”

He nods.

“So did I.” You sigh. “It’s fine. I only had a sip, I’m sober. I can get myself home.”

Yeonjun looks at you for a long moment. For a second it looks like he has something he wants to say, but then he doesn’t and you conclude it’s just your brain playing tricks on you as usual. “Text me when you get back.”

You muster a small smile on your way out the door. “I will.”

Kinda hope you're following me out But this is definitely not my crowd

The smell of alcohol and sweat fills your nose immediately when you leave the room. Fighting the urge to gag, you squeeze along the wall towards the main room where you know you came from. God, you hate this – you already know you’re going to be taking a long shower when you get back.

You put your cup down on a table, still full of whatever punch or jungle juice you got for yourself before Yeonjun knocked some sense into your brain. You don’t bother to remember where you left it – there’s no point. You won’t be back.

This is so bad. You never should’ve come here. Isn’t it stupid, the things you’ll do for a guy who barely pays attention to you other than a wave and a smile when he sees you sober? It’s dumb, so dumb – why are you so dumb –

Wouldn’t it be funny, your brain decides to say, if Changbin saw you right now and called your name?

Funny, indeed. You have to snort.

Is it bad that you kind of want it to happen?

“Y/N!”

What the –

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow

You whirl around, heart fluttering at the familiar voice as a dumb little smile threatens to spread across your expression –

It isn’t too hard to quash when you see the state that Changbin’s already in.

Stumbling slightly, a can sloshing in his hand. Red tinges his cheeks, a tinge that will turn into a flush if he doesn’t put down that can of godforsaken beer and his eyes are a touch too unfocused to be normal. “Changbin,” you say, low voice a contrast to his loud chirp of joy. “Hey, come on –” you grab his arm as he almost trips over air – “god, how much have you had to drink?”

“Some,” is the only vague answer you receive. Well, at least he’s responding to questions. “Why are you wallflower-ing around? You could be with your pick of people.” He winks greasily, and despite everything you have to suppress a smile. “Or you could’ve found me.”

Yeah. You could’ve. You probably would’ve if a certain someone hadn’t cornered you half an hour ago, eyes dark with something between disapproval and worry as he took in your dressed-up form, lips already opening like something of a warning.

A warning you said you’d try to heed.

God, this was a mistake. Such a fucking mistake. You resist the urge to scream as Changbin’s smile doesn’t fade. You promised Yeonjun you’d leave – promised because you knew he was right, had known it for a long time – but here you are, trapped again in Changbin’s eyes and unable to leave just like every other damn time.

“I haven’t been here long,” you say, ignoring the furrow of Changbin’s eyebrows that signals he doesn’t understand why you just got here when the party’s been going on for at least an hour. He doesn’t need to know it’s a lie. “And I’m already bored.”

Changbin’s eyes darken as he takes another sip from whatever vile concoction is in his cup. All it does is make your heart rate spike. “Bored?”

You’re too attached, Yeonjun had said. And I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N, but he’s just – he’s not –

He’s not. Yeonjun was right. Changbin is only interested in something other than a friendly smile and a wave when he’s had something to drink and so have you and there’s only one thing (or so he thinks) on your minds.

He doesn’t know. He probably will never know. It kills you to know that, and it’s why you said you’d leave. That you wouldn’t come back, that you wouldn’t seek Changbin out ever again.

“Yeah, bored.” You raise an eyebrow, lifting your lips in the smirk you know Changbin loves to see on your face. “Wanna make out?”

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed Take me where the music ain't too loud

Somewhere along the way, the strobe lights and thrumming music that you hated so much before disappear into the haze of Changbin’s lips. It always happens this way – always – his kisses like a drug, turning your mind fuzzier than all the alcohol in the room could.

Maybe it’s the knowledge that this is the only time you’ll ever be able to taste the honey sweetness of his lips, feel the gentle firmness of his body pressed against yours, that addicts you to him so much. Because you could never do this outside in daylight, could never do this anywhere but under the cover of sweaty darkness at another one of these mind-numbing parties.

He does something and you gasp into the kiss, giving him the opening to bite your lip softly, nip it just enough for want to pool dark and heavy in your stomach, a fire beginning to simmer in your blood.

Maybe it’s that. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Changbin kisses better than anyone you’ve ever met.

Strong arms pull you closer to him as he groans into your mouth, hands rising along your body, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches. You lean into it – press into it because you want it, need it so much –

Do you really need him?

Don’t do this to yourself.

“Y/N?”

You blink. The haze of the world has fallen away, the piercing lights and terrible music back in full force as Changbin pulls away, lips swollen but eyes narrowed with concern. Too late you realized you haven’t been responding enough, and, god –

This is why you love him. This is why you’re so damn attached – because Changbin may not care for you in the way you want to care for him, but even drunk, he does care in some small, important ways, and it’s always those small things that make you hope for more even though you know you’re never going to get it.

“You good?”

You could say no. You could just say no, tell him you aren’t feeling well and leave. Never come back. Heed Yeonjun’s advice and do your best to never see Changbin again. He wouldn’t notice. He wouldn’t care. Not in the way you wanted to, anyway.

You promised you would leave. You should be long gone.

Instead, because you’re an addict hooked on the drug of Changbin’s kisses, you’re still here.

You nod your head. “It’s a little loud,” you say, and you almost have to laugh when Changbin’s eyebrows rise in sardonic reply. “And crowded.”

As if on cue, someone’s elbow knocks your shoulder and you jerk forward with a hiss, nearly falling right into Changbin’s chest.

And suddenly you’re close again, and even though you were making out just seconds ago this tiny distance between his lips and yours makes your heart pound even faster than when you were kissing.

“We could leave,” Changbin says, breath ghosting across your skin. It smells like beer and punch and a little sweet, too, in the way that Changbin is poisonously, addictingly sweet. “My place or yours?”

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her Save me 'till the party is over

It’s so easy to feel special when he’s like this. So easy. And if you were still the you from months ago when you first met eyes with one Seo Changbin at a party like this, you’d probably give in to the feeling even if you knew what you do now.

But you aren’t special. You aren’t. Because you’ve seen Changbin flirt with people who weren’t you at other parties, seen him pass a girl a drink with a smile and trade a laughs with a boy who took even your breath away. You’ve seen him kissing so many people in so many corners, watching him stumble out of the door, giggling with someone on his arm that wasn’t you. You’ve seen it. Watched it. Witnessed it.

And even if you’re one that Changbin favors a little more than the others, it doesn’t matter. Because in the end, even if he’s everything you want, you’re only a piece of what he wants.

“You’re drunk,” you say in response, because that’s the only defense you can pull that isn’t the flat-out neither that would result in either an unpleasant confrontation or you giving in and saying yours like you’ve always done before. “I’ll drive you home.”

“So, mine?”

It won’t hurt to let him believe that for a bit. It won’t, you tell yourself, even though you do feel kind of bad for leading him on – but he’s already so drunk and you know he can’t drive, you should at least keep him from stumbling home on his own or throwing up in an Uber later.

You just want to spend more time with him, the evil rational voice in the back of your mind says.

It’s right.

“Sure,” is all you say, hauling yourself up from the couch. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

He kisses you long and hard in the car, a hand on your thigh as he creeps closer and closer. Your keys jingle in your hand, nearly slipping from your fingers as you let his lips drag down the side of your neck and into the hollow of your throat.

“You’re gonna – Changbin – you’re gonna need to let me drive, you know,” you finally gasp, giving him a little shove. And I’m going to get drunker on your kisses if you keep going. “Let me get you home.”

“Driving can wait,” he says into the bruises he’s sucking into your skin. “It can wait as long as we need.”

I wish you were sober (Wish you were so, wish you were so, wish you were sober) I wish you were sober

God, you wish he was sober.

Tripped down the road, walking home You kissed me at your door

Driving along the empty streets, it doesn’t take long to get to Changbin’s apartment. In front of the familiar building, you have to swallow a lump of emotion that again, you don’t have the energy to decipher.

“Come on,” you say, helping him out of the car. “Where are your keys?”

They’re in his pocket. But clearly Changbin has little intention of actually going inside in a proper fashion because when you shove your hand into his pocket to get them out, he takes advantage and presses you up against the door of his apartment and brings your lips together once more.

Pulling me close, begging me to stay over But I'm over this rollercoaster

Your mind spins. On one hand this is kind of your fault for not making it clear before you left the party, but on the other you need to get out of here and you don’t owe Changbin anything, nothing at all – you promised that you’d stop, promised you’d leave the party with no more strings attached, and you’ve already fucked up the second half of that promise so you need to at least follow through with the first half before you break down and lose yourself again –

Somewhere along the way, Changbin has taken the keys from your hand and unlocked his door. The two of you stumble inside, still joined together as Changbin’s arm snakes around your waist, his teeth biting small marks into your neck and shoulders. You gasp – a soft moan escapes your lips when he sucks there, right there – and holy shit, you want this more than anything.

Do you? Do you really?

It’s like ice cold water douses your whole body. Because yes, you want this. You want to feel Changbin’s body on you, want to feel his lips press kisses onto every inch of your skin before the night is over. But that’s a superficial want – it isn’t what you really need.

Changbin can’t give you what you need. Won’t give you what you need. Not now. Not ever.

You heave a shaky breath. Push him away.

“Stop.”

I'ma crawl outta the window now Getting good at saying, "gotta bounce"

Changbin blinks. “What?”

Honestly you always let me down And I know we're not just hanging out

You take another deep breath. Fix Changbin’s unfocused eyes with your own.

“I need to stop.”

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow

Confusion fills Changbin’s flushed face. A hint of clarity comes back into his expression and he steps away immediately, but the confusion only mixes with concern. “Are you all right? I – did I do something – I’m sorry if I did –”

And, fuck – that’s just what it is. That concern. That worry. That immediate apology in case he did something that made you uncomfortable, the base kindness you’d expect and even demand from anyone else but that feels special coming from him.

It feels like – like if I don’t do this, I’ll have nothing left – no one will love me –

It feels like love, a semblance of it, when Changbin has his lips on yours, his hands roaming everywhere on your body as yours trail up his back, to his shoulders, finding purchase around his neck and in his hair. It feels like it. You want it to feel like it.

But it isn’t love. On your part, maybe. But not on his.

People love you. People will always love you. You don’t need to keep chasing after someone who won’t appreciate you the way you deserve just to pretend that you can be loved because you can have that in reality, okay?

Don’t do this to yourself. Please.

You shake your head. “You didn’t do anything.” Your voice is raspier than you’d like it, a sure sign of tears that want to come, but you force them back. “It’s me. I just can’t do this.”

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed Take me where the music ain't too loud

If anything, the confusion on Changbin’s face only intensifies. “Then… why?”

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her Save me 'till the party is over

You have a lot of memories in this apartment. Nights spent in passion and mind-numbing bliss, bruises sucked into each other’s skin, heated kisses as you explored each other’s mouths, arms encasing you until you almost felt safe from the world in their warmth.

Your eyes flicker to where you know the bedroom is. The dinky little mattress that you could be on now, if you just gave up this time and kept going. Changbin is drunk enough – he probably wouldn’t remember what you said in the morning if you put a stop to it right now. You could make another bittersweet memory here, drown yourself in the love you have for a man who doesn’t even know. You could do it, pretend you’re special for one more night.

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

And yet every one of the memories here was under the cover of darkness. Under the influence of alcohol, at least on his part, smelling of beer and punch as he pulled you onto the mattress. Never in the daylight. Never where he’d want to see you without your party guise on.

Knowing this, it’s getting really difficult to keep pretending you’re something special.

I wish you were sober (Wish you were so, wish you were so, wish you were sober) I wish you were sober

You take a step back, letting a soft, sad little smile that you’ve never shown him before curve your lips. “You’d never do this if you were sober,” you say to uncomprehending eyes. “And that’s not what I want.”

I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I wish you were sober I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I wish you were sober

It turns out Changbin isn’t too drunk, you guess. Because his expression clears just a bit in some understanding, as much comprehension as the alcohol will allow. Conflicting emotions flash across his face and for the umpteenth time this evening you have zero desire to try and figure them out, both because you’re too tired and because you don’t really want to know what Changbin is thinking.

Poor Y/N. How could they have done this, how could they have tricked themselves into wanting something they couldn’t have?

God, fuck your mind for being able to think. Hypotheticals are bad on a good day and horrible on a bad one. Like this. If you were drunk – if you’d had more than a sip of that stupid punch –

You were always sober when you came over. It’s easier to feel the moment when you aren’t drunk, too lost in a haze of alcohol to enjoy what you can. You’re sober now, just like all those times before.

It’s the first time you kind of wish you weren’t.

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow

“You’re drunk,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can think to say without going into a messy spiel and possibly crying all over the floor. “Drink some water and get some sleep.” You try to smile. “I have to go.”

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed Take me where the music ain't too loud

When you turn away, you take a last glance at the bedroom, at the couch. Again, you want it – want it so badly you almost look back at Changbin to tell him to forget everything you said, ignore every word that came from your mouth, you didn’t mean any of it. The lingering confusion on his face hurts. You don’t want to leave him like this.

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her Save me 'till the party is over

But then in what way would you leave him? You don’t speak outside of night hours. All you can hope for is a wave and a smile when you pass each other on campus. How would you tell him, even? Hey, Changbin, I can’t sleep with you anymore because I’m kind of in love with you and I know you don’t feel the same.

How stupid would that sound?

You have to do it now. Surrounded by the reminders that you aren’t special to him so that you can’t delude yourself more. Because this isn’t for Changbin. It’s for you. A one-sided breakup, if you will.

That sounds even stupider. But you know, deep down inside, that you need it. That it’s true.

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

You fully turn away. Speak with lips he kissed just ten minutes ago, all without looking back.

“Good night, Changbin.”

The door shuts quietly behind you.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for mc to get over changbin quick, and another prayer for yeonjun bc he’s so in love with mc that it hurts)

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milkybonya · 2 years

Text

☆彡romance symphony

🎼 love as: i love you so much that you've changed my perception of the world_낭만교향곡

🎼 track 01 of the 낭만 (NANGMAN) -- do you believe in romance? series

🎼 Changbin falls so hard for the flute player in an orchestra that he forgets he's a hip-hop rapper

#warnings!: 3racha, some angst, takes a while for y/n and Changbin to officially meet, only half proof read, definitely more than 1k words but idk exactly how long T-T

[💌: band kids raise your hands! band kids who were flute players raise your hands! i dedicate this to you <3 hehe]

being a musician means learning to appreciate all genres of music. you don't have to succeed in all of them, but you can't be ignorant and turn a blind eye on everything but the genre you choose to pursue.

so far, hard-headed Changbin has only had eyes and ears for rap and hip-hop. he's had no patience for any other kind of sound. every night, he writes angry rap lyrics with his two best friends, Han and Chan.

until Chan decides he's had enough.

the three boys seem to have hit a slump: always arguing, songs always left unfinished, no new ideas, everything sounds the same... so, he searches for a way to save his boys from this mess.

tickets to the local orchestra performance.

somehow, this ends up being the solution. his mom has some tickets handy and Chan begs for her to give them to him, which she does.

"guys, guys! are you free saturday night? wait, scratch that. you will be free saturday night. we're gonna see an orchestra performance and neither of you are allowed to miss it!" Chan tells his friends in their makeshift studio.

"orchestra? pfft hyung, come on now. we should be seeing rappers! orchestra?" Changbin scoffs, shaking his head.

Han stays quiet, considering the idea.

"don't tell me you're agreeing to this," Changbin tells Han, who shrugs.

"you're all agreeing, 'cause if you don't come, us, 3racha will be no more!" Chan exclaims.

"we'll disband over not attending an orchestra performance?!" Han finally chimes in.

"yeah, so... choose wisely," Chan says, laying the tickets on the small desk in the room.

"hyung, what do we wear?" Han asks Chan on the phone.

the three boys are all at their own places, getting ready to leave for the performance they gave in to seeing.

"well, obviously not streetwear. something smart, neat," Chan explains.

all Changbin can find is a white and blue striped dress shirt along with cream-coloured pants. luckily, he has dress shoes as well.

"and please, let's neatly do our hair! no hiding it under hats," Chan says.

eventually, the boys show up to the performance. they turn heads. anyone would want to stare at a trio of handsome, young men dressed neatly. the boys, though, think it's because something is wrong with their appearance. they nervously try to maintain confidence, fidgeting with their buttons and looking at their shoes to 'make sure' they're clean.

during one of these moments when Changbin is preoccupied with making sure he looks okay, he bumps into...

you.

you, who has lost their way trying to get to the break room for some water. flute in hand, dressed like an angel from head to toe.

there is no time for you and Changbin to exchange proper greetings, since you're in a rush. all you can manage is a 'sorry' before you rush off.

yet, Changbin gets a good look at you and how your fingers grasp the flute with ease, proof that you've had to hold the instrument up an infinite amount of times. you and your delicate hair, your gorgeous eyes, your precious lips and lovely nose. the way your attire flutters slightly as you rush past.

you leave him in a daze but he shrugs it off, following his friends to their assigned seats.

once they're there, Han marvels at how close they're seated.

"your mom is the coolest, Chan! She got us seats this close?!" Han exclaims.

"the tickets were for herself at first so... but i'm glad you're happy!" Chan cooes Han, tickling the bottom of his chin while Han laughs.

their loud, wild behaviour sets them apart from everyone else. the people around them are all sophisticated, calm, quiet. seeing them, Changbin suts up straight and clears his throat, neatly crossing his arms.

"are you doing royal family roleplay or what?" Han scoffs at him.

"might as well play the part if we're in such a fancy place," Changbin says, followed by hums of agreement from Chan.

Han sits back in his seat, slouching. he's stubborn, never willing to bend for anyone. and up until now, Changbin thought he was the same, too. he won't be able to pinpoint why he suddenly decides to sit up straight in that theatre at that moment until years later, when he discovers it to be because of you.

you, who scurries up on stage right as he remembers you.

sitting so close means he can see and recognize you well as you take your seat in the front row, stage left. he holds his breath as he watches the orchestra tuning themselves. he hopes you'll do a good job, even though he somehow already knows you will.

as the audience goes quiet and the performance begins, for some reason, he can't take his eyes off you. he loves how you're absorbed in the music, body swaying slightly and foot tapping to keep the beat.

then, oh then, you have a solo for a few seconds! maybe for close to a minute!! the lights dim and the onoy spotlight is on you. Changbin is holding his breathe the entire time, feeling both intrigued and nervous. he's in awe hearing and watch you play those notes together so quickly.

once your solo ends, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, relaxing in his seat. he can't believe you just did that..

the performance ends and everyone claps as the performers take a bow before exiting the stage. Changbin stands up, eager to see if he can find you and find out your name, anything at all about you.

"why the rush?" Chan ask, eyeing Changbin.

"just gotta go to the bathroom," Changbin says. Chan and Han let him go first.

he rushes out of the seating area and towards the lobby. wandering around, he finds the waiting room for all the performers. there's no way he'll go in there, that would just be plain rude. but, he can't resist peeking inside when the door is already open...

"y/n, your flute case is over here! i can't believe you. you've got so many keychains attached to it but still lose the damn thing."

Changbin watches you rush over to the person who spoke, laughing and taking your flute case from them.

so... your name is y/n? and you like keychains on your flute case. Changbin smiles down at the ground. you're so precious...

he leaves before anyone seems him and returns to his friends.

"so, how was that?" Chan asks.

"can we go to the next one?" Changbin sheepishly replies.

"huh?!" says Han.

"the next one.. it's in two weeks, here again. seems like they hold a performance here every two weeks."

"wow... i didn't know you liked it that much," Chan says.

Changbin isn't sure if he 'liked it' or just likes you.

from that day on, with or without his friends, Changbin attends every single one of your performances. he also reads up on classical music, starts watching romance instead of comedies and even finds himself eating healthier.

the existence of a graceful, angelic flute player in his life sends all his hip-hop habits down the drain.

it's as though your performances are lectures he studies up for, learning names of composers just so he can recognize when you perform their pieces. you always have his full attention and his eyes are always on you.

"hey, Changbin.. this idea is actually not half bad!" Chan says after Changbin suggests something in their studio.

he's always at his highest after watching one of your performances.

"y/n's solo made me think about writing the topline like this, for some reason," Changbin says, blushing slightly.

"you simp," Han says, patting Changbin's back aggressively.

"shut up," Changbin replies, scowling but turning red immediately.

that night, the song writing is super fast. the three boys get it done on the spot and release it on several music streaming sites as they usually do, not really expecting much.

until the next day, they wake up to the song doing numbers they could have never imagined.

have you heard of 3racha?! their newest song blew up, but even their old songs are so good!

i'm definitely a fan.. i think Han is gonna be my favourite

do you think they'll ever perform live?

thousands and thousands of comments appeared on youtube for them, along with messages on instagram and twitter, tags and mentions on all platforms. the boys were overwhelmed and didn't know what to do.

luckily, they were able to find someone named Hyunjin, who they could trust as their manager. he made sure the boys didn't make any reckless decisions. he also was the one who encouraged them to go forward with their first interview.

"a few of your fans who have actually been there from the start have noticed a shift in your sound with your newest track. is there any reason for that?" the interview on your tv asks this group called... sriracha or something. you just turned the tv on so you wouldn't have to eat breakfast in your apartment alone.

"yeah, well... actually, we reached a slump some time before this. so, i suggested we go watch an orchestra performance to change things up. i think after that, we got a lot more inspired," some guy named 'Chan' explains.

"i think Changbin was the msot inspired though," 'Han' chimes in, laughing and slapping the back of who you presume to be 'Changbin'.

he blushes slightly and looks down, and for some reason he looks familiar.

"and why's that, Changbin?" the interviewer asks.

Changbin seems flustered, but he still replies after the rest of 3racha encourage him.

"well... i think i found the muse of my life at that performance. they're part of the orchestra and always sit stage left, first row with a flute in hand--"

"hey, isn't that too specific?" Chan cuts in.

"no, it doesn't matter. i want to thank them. y/n, if you ever watch this.. thank you for inspiring me. i'll thank you in person someday, i promise."

the spoon falls out of your hand and lands on the table, but you don't even blink.

you're.. this man's... first love?

"do you know Changbin? he's totally in love with you!"

"have you spotted him at performances? i definitely have, he looks so familiar"

"do you think he'll be there today, too?"

your fellow musicians just don't shut up about Changbin and it drives you mad. it also makes you anxious about performing even though you never feel that way.

it's been two weeks since the interview and everyone's been on your case about it. of course it just has to get worse on the day of your orchestra's monthly performance.

you ignore everyone as they press you with questions and you leave the break room and performance hall entirely, clutching your flute to your chest.

out in the free air, you let out a sigh of relief, searching with your eyes for a spot to enjoy the fresh air. you notice a man dressed in all black, leaning against the platform railing with a cigarette in hand. his hair is cut neatly to his chin and he adorns black sunglasses as he watches the lazy sun lay herself on the horizon.

you're not one to approach strangers, but for some reason, it feels like.

"mind if i join you?" you ask the man, who immediately removes his sunglasses out of courtesy. he places them in the pocket of his long, black jacket.

"of course not, love. does the cigarette bother you? i can out it out if you'd like," he offers, but you assure him that it's okay.

he smiles and takes another puff, being mindful to blow the air away from you

"quite the instrument you've got there. will you be performing tonight?" he asks.

"yeah... stage left and front row," you say.

"stage left? that sounds famil--oh! are you perhaps y/n?" he asks.

"i am... how did you know?"

"i'm Hyunjin, 3racha's manager. Changbin seems to... be greatly inspired by you."

you drop your head. not Changbin, again.

"i wish i could say i'm honoured, but all i hear is everyone talking about him, him, him. it's like they only know me 'cause of him and i'm fed up," you explain.

Hyunjin nods along, taking another drag.

"i hear you. i told him not to call you out like that, the idiot. but i think he's hopelessly in love. i'm truly sorry on his behalf."

you shake your head. "that's alright, not your fault."

"hope you don't mind that we're here to watch you perform. 3racha and i will leave if you're uncomfortable in any way--"

"no! please. music is for all to enjoy, regardless of any personal factors. stay and enjoy the show," you say.

Hyunjin smiles, his eyes gleaming at you.

"you sound like a true musician."

you later return to the break room feeling refreshed, earbuds in so no one will talk to you. your conversation with Hyunjin definitely cheered you up, and you step onto the stage feeling more relaxed. yet, you still can't stop your eyes from searching for Changbin. once you find him, you feel more nervous than ever.

he's sat forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and chin resting on the palms of his hands. he's probably noticed you staring, since he smiles. even Hyunjin, sitting next to him, gives you a small wave. you wave back out of courtesy, but the person sitting next to you nudges you.

"waving at your man up there?"

you shake your head in disappointment and don't reply.

despite being nervous, you give the audience the show of a lifetime. you show your all, stand up, bow, and head back to the break room.

only to find a huge bouquet of flowers waiting for you.

everyone cheers and you feel uncomfortable, confused. what's going on?

that's until a man reveals himself from behind the bouquet. it's none other than Changbin.

too much to bear, you run off, out of the break room and down a random hallway.

"wait!" Changbin calls out as you storm off. he reaches out for your hand, grasping at nothing but air as you're already too far for him to reach.

you stop in your tracks. might as well hear him out.

"just who are you? for making me feel this way.. i just want to know you... properly," Changbin says.

you look back and look at him. he's wringing his hands together and his eyes are droopy. the collar of his dress shirt is slightly wrinkled, probably from him rubbing his neck because of how stressed out he was just a few moments ago, waiting for you to enter the breakroom.

"i'm.. y/n," you say, your brain faltering.

Changbin sighs.

"i already know your name, y/n. you play first flute and always sit stage left in the first row," he explains.

you roll your eyes. it's that same thing, other and over. the same thing he said in that stupid interview.

"then what do you want to know?" you spit out, "you seem to know everything about me, don't you? and then you feel confident enough to spew it all on live television. thanks for that, but i don't need any pity fame."

Changbin visibly hesitates for a second before taking a step forward and finally reaching for your hand. you resist pushing his hand away, wondering what he's up to. surprisingly, your heart rate picks up and your skin grows hot. why does his hand feel so... comfy?

"y/n, we haven't even had a proper conversation yet, but you've already changed my whole world. i used to rap, now i watch orchestra performances on a daily basis. i used to wear baggy tees but now they're all button-ups. y/n... i just want to get to know you. i know this is so forward and i know i messed up. so i want to say sorry. i'm sorry, y/n. do you think we can start anew?"

you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

"i've always believed in second chances. if i've really.. changed you this much then i guess it doesn't hurt to see exactly who you are," you say.

your mouth moves faster than your head and you don't even realize how you feel until after you're done talking.

Changbin grins, looking at the floor and biting his lip slightly. the person whom he's fallen for is giving him a chance already despite not knowing much about him? it's like fate.

he's still holding your hand and he tugs on it slightly before he speaks.

"how about we leave this place and go somewhere with a nice night view, somewhere we can talk?" he asks.

"i'd kill to get away from my nosy orchestra members. let's go, Changbin," you say.

that's all he needs to hear before he whisks you away, running through the hall to some random exit.

"why does this feel like some old-timey romance movie where the two leads runaway?" you ask Changbin, who stops running once you're out of the building.

he raises the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it only when you consent.

"because you've turned me into an old-timey romantic, y/n. i just wish i had a nice, classic, black car to drive us away in but... i have to call Hyunjin to.. escort us somewhere."

you laugh, somehow feeling yourself unwinding completely in Changbin's presence, fully relaxed.

"it's a romance movie where we have a runaway driver--even better!" you joke.

Changbin melts at the sight of you throwing your head back as you laugh, the wind rustling your clothes. he's so in love already, and he barely knows a thing about you. but the fact that he's changed so much because of you is enough proof of this love.

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sona-verse01 · 4 months

Note

Hey, this ask is inspired by a previous ask (not mine btw).

Can you ship me with a member of Skz.

I'm a sagi sun,can moon,capri rising.

Thanks!

Sure, you will go well with Changbin (my biad in skz)

#@sona-verse01 #followers #answers #ask #game #kpop games #kpop #skz x reader #stray kids #skz changbin #skz changbin imagines #stray kids changbin x reader #skz

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forlix · 4 months

Text

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.

“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

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soobnny · 1 year

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drunk in love — seo changbin.

trope. best friends to lovers. college au. mutual pining.

synopsis. getting drunk for the first time with the one person you trust the most doesn’t sound like a bad idea, right? even if you’re madly in love with them?

word count. 2.2k words

warnings. drinking, puking, and just everything that comes with being drunk, curse words

note. been in a changbin mood recently

Everything looks so hazy.

With a shot glass clumsily in hand, you tilt your hand to look around Changbin’s living room in wonder. Everything looks as it has always been, the same pieces of furniture in the same places, and yet it felt totally different.

The walls look a different color, and the television seems to have grown a new pair. How silly to keep two TVs side by side each other.

You giggle at the thought, eyes unfocused as you keep staring at his television with curiosity. Your best friend, currently seated beside you on the couch, carefully grabs the shot glass from your hand to prevent any accidents – taking advantage of the moment where you’re distracted.

A few minutes ago, when he had attempted the same thing, you had gotten upset. Changbin would rather roll down multiple flights of stairs than have you be upset with him again, even if it was unintentional and under the influence of alcohol.

He doesn’t even know what had prompted you to drink in the first place. You had just texted him, completely out of the blue; can we drink tonight lol

And before he could even respond, you were already knocking on his door with a bottle of tequila in hand and a sheepish smile painted on your features. He accepts the offer. For one, he could never say no to you. And secondly, he had no classes tomorrow and he hadn’t drank in a while.

He could use the taste of alcohol to hide behind when it comes to his feelings for you. It’s grown tenfold over the past few weeks, and although he could never trust himself drunk around you (he knows his blabber mouth would confess in one way or another), a few shots wouldn’t hurt.

Plus, he has never drank with you either. To his information, you’ve never drank before either. At all.

Changbin had asked if you wanted to invite any of your friends over, even the guys, but you had asked if it was alright that it was just the two of you for tonight.

It’s because you trust him the most, but you don’t need to tell him that.

If you did, he would’ve exploded. But you didn’t have to know that either.

With the shot glass successfully out of your reach, Changbin doesn’t even try to understand what you’re giggling about. He knows you’re hit, and the wholesome way you’re smiling is too adorable to question. He just lets you stare at his television like it was a Nobel prize winning discovery.

After gawking for a few minutes, you turn your attention to Changbin, scooting so much closer that your knees are pressed together now. Leaning in with a hand covering your mouth, you whisper into his ear.

“Why do you have two TVs?”

Changbin feels like crying at how cute you are.

“I think you might’ve had too much to drink.” You pull away from his face, eyebrows knit as you shake your head in disagreement. You’re too shy to admit you’ve already been hit hours ago.

“I’m dizzy, but I can still understand what’s happening around me. So, I’m just tipsy, right?” You don’t even give him a chance to respond when you start talking about something entirely different, abruptly getting up from your seat to point at the walls.

Changbin follows suit with his hands stretched out in case you fall over.

“When did you get the time to repaint your walls? I liked the old one better.” Eyes blinking rapidly, you step forward a little unsteadily and Changbin has an arm hovering around you in record time. “It changed again just now!”

“Think you’re really drunk, darling.”

“‘M not drunk. Your wall’s being weird.” You brush his statement dismissively, attempting to stumble towards the painted walls to see them up close.

Though, you don’t think your feet want to cooperate with you very much.

Changbin has to pull you to his side before you can trip over your own feet, and you can feel the heat spreading from your neck to your face but you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the close proximity to your best friend.

“Okay. You’re not drunk. I believe you.” His grip tightens around you, and you smile victoriously at the small accomplishment of convincing him you aren’t drunk, even though he knows otherwise.

“Thank you.” You politely respond, bowing unsteadily before looking up at him with your crescent eyes and your crooked grin, and the boy really has to try his best not to get carried away with the overwhelming amount of feelings he has for you.

Especially when you’re looking at him like that.

He fails, of course, hearing his own heartbeat quicken and his palms start to sweat, but at least he tried anyway. In trial of calming himself down, he places his palm on the entirety of your face and pushes you back down to sit on the couch.

Changbin hears nothing but muffled protests from you, but he takes the limited time he has with your eyes peeled to clear his throat and recompose himself before he pulls his hand back.

Get it together, Changbin.

Though, even after having calmed himself, he still finds himself thinking about the way you perfectly fit by his side, like he has always been meant to wrap an arm around your waist.

He wants you so fucking bad, and it really doesn’t help that your cuteness has heightened from the silly lens you’re viewing the world in right now.

Preparing himself for your scolding, he finds that you’ve completely forgotten the way he had manhandled you back on the couch. Instead, you’re gripping at your shirt with your eyebrows twisted, lips pressed in a thin line as if you’re trying to discern the way you’re feeling right now.

“Binnie, I’m a little dizzy now.”

And then you’re getting up again.

“Careful.” He mumbles under his breath, stepping forward. You always trust Changbin to be there before you fall.

Though, ironically, you’ve been falling for a few years now. But you haven’t crashed yet and there’s still time for Changbin to open his arms and catch you if he wanted to.

You can tell he’s tired. You don’t even know what time it is anymore. Everything’s so distorted and it’s all just static to you now. All you know is that you have to get home so Changbin can get his much needed rest.

“Gotta get home now.” You hiccup, body swaying in an alarming way as you try to make a run for his front door.

“Not so fast.” He pulls you back, allowing you to rest most of your weight on him when you stumble back. “You’re sleeping here tonight. Can’t let you go home like this. Hmm? Who’s gonna take care of you?”

“You gonna take care of me?” Your voice has grown incredibly soft now, hands gripping his arms to keep yourself standing.

“Mhm.” He leans forward to brush away the hair falling in front of your face, tucking the loose strands behind your ear so it doesn’t bother you so much.

“Thank you, Binnie. You always take care of me.”

Changbin thinks he’s gonna pass out again because here you are, looking at him again. In some delusional way, it makes him think you feel the same as him, even though he thinks it’s just wishful thinking.

“Stop looking at me like that. Makes it really hard for me.”

“Makes it hard to what?” You’re standing on your tiptoes to try and mirror his height so your face is directly in front of his now, and Changbin has to hold both of your arms to prevent you from falling on top of him completely.

“Not to kiss you.” He mumbles begrudgingly. It’s okay, you won’t remember this tomorrow. He thinks. Or, he hopes.

But if you do, he’s equally hoping you admit you’ve always wanted to kiss him too.

“What’s stopping you?” Another hiccup.

“You’re drunk.” Changbin deadpans, pinching your cheeks, and immediately regretting his decision when a pout sports your lips and your eyebrows knit together in the most adorable way possible.

“I told you ‘m not drunk!” You let your head fall on his shoulder.

Only a few seconds of silence pass before you’re speaking again. Although, your tone’s a little more troubled. “Uh oh. I don’t feel too good.”

You don’t really remember how you got to the bathroom. The only thing you can feel is a hand rubbing your back and another pulling your hair back as you’re hunched over his toilet seat, vomiting out whatever you had for dinner earlier.

Tears prick in your eyes, and then you’re hurling again, coughing out as if it’ll help you feel any better about the circumstance you’re under. You don’t even notice Changbin has left your side until he comes back with a glass of water, making sure you drink all of it after wiping away the corners of your mouth.

“Sorry.” You frown, lips starting to tremble as you stare down at the floor, clearly dejected and ashamed.

Changbin sits down on his bathroom floor next to you, continuing to rub your back like he did earlier. “It’s okay. This kind of thing happens.”

“But it’s gross, and now you’ll never like me. You’ll like someone else who doesn’t vomit in your toilet.” He lets out a breathy laugh at how sad you sound, and you’re starting to feel embarrassed.

“Hey. I like you even when you vomit in my toilet.”

You look up at him with doe eyes, and you suddenly feel so much better. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Mkay. Thank you.” You smile stupid to yourself, playing with your fingers and suddenly feeling shy.

Changbin finds the sight endearing, and feels his heart expand in fondness every time you say ‘thank you’ at even the most minuscule thing – when he “believed” you were drunk, when he had let you stay the night, when he told you he still liked you even when you puke.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he catches you yawning.

“You tired? Gonna get you some clothes to change into, okay?”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Not gonna let you sleep in that. You’ll be uncomfortable.” He pats your head once he’s stood up from having sat on the bathroom floor next to you.

“Oh. You’re right.”

You don’t protest further, humming to yourself as you wait for him to come back.

He returns with some of his spare clothes and a damp face towel. After wiping your face, he allows you to change into your clothes after having convinced him you could do it. He can’t help but laugh when you walk out of his bathroom with his shirt on backwards.

You immediately fall face first on his bed, groaning out at how comfortable his bed was. Changbin smiles fondly at the sight, helping you tuck yourself in comfortably. You blink up at him, patting the space next to you.

“Come to bed now.”

“Gotta change too, okay? Give me a few minutes.”

You whine childishly when he makes his way to his bathroom. “Binnie, where are you?”

“Just a few more minutes.”

“But Binnie! I’m cold. And.. and… what if someone suddenly came in and took me away! It’ll be all your fault.” You try to play with the cards that you’re dealt with, scheming to say anything that could guilt trip Changbin into speeding up in the bathroom so he could be beside you right now.

“Okay, okay. I’m here, I’m done.”

You’re grumpy now, even with his favorite blanket wrapped around you. When he sits down beside you on his bed, you’re scooting away slightly to really sell the part.

“You mad at me?” He whispers, smiling to himself when you nod your head.

“You left me all alone.”

“Just so I’m wearing clean clothes when I cuddle you.”

“You’re gonna cuddle me?” You ask with wide eyes.

“You said you were cold, hm?”

It doesn’t take much after that before you’re wrapped in his arms instead, head resting comfortably on his chest as you sigh out in relief. This feels nice. His arms feel warm and comfortable. It’s warmer than it was when you were just under the covers.

“You still mad?”

“‘M not mad anymore. You’re forgiven.” Changbin grins, threading his fingers through your hair gently to help you sleep quicker. He knows you’re tired, from the way you drawl out your words, and the way you simply collapse into him.

He rests his free arm around you comfortably, just by your hips, and he continues to look down at you attentively in case you jolt awake in need of something. He only completely relaxes when he hears soft snores from you.

Placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, Changbin allows himself to shut his own tired eyes closed. Even though he had been exhausted from the events of the day prior, he finds he’d do it all over again for you if you asked him to.

As for you, you’re not quite sure you want to drink as hard as you did today. One thing you are sure of is you never want to leave, with your head resting just below Changbin’s neck, and his hand running through your hair.

You don’t wanna be anywhere else but with the one person you trust the most.

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tr0p1cal · 10 months

Text

The Star || series list

a collection of smau stories all set at the same cafe and the same friend group

General warnings and genres: smau, coffee shop au, slice of life, college au, non idol au, fluff, angst, sexual themes, language, talk and use of alcohol

note: while the series is ordered, you can technically read it in any order or just one as a stand alone. There will be references to other stories and some things will continue throughout the whole series, so keep that in mind! <3

Bang Chan

Status: tbt

Lee Know (Minho): cats got your tongue

Status: ongoing 23/9/23-active

2/8

Seo Changbin: buy me a drink first

Status: completed 13/7/23-23/9/23

1/8

Hwang Hyunjin

Status: tbt

Han Jisung

Status: tbt

Lee Felix

Status: tbt

Kim Seungmin

Status: tbt

I.N (Jeongin)

Status: tbt

tag list is always open! ty for your support <3

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luvyeni · 3 months

Text

𐙚 : SELLING MY BOYFRIEND W/ STRAYKIDS (smau) ֶָ֢ !

request: can you make the selling my bf thing but for skz? pls n thxx

authors note. no problem luv , i hope you like it <3!!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

©️LUVYENI

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baby-yongbok · 2 months

Text

Boyfriend SKZ!Fake Texts - They have a wet dream about you

Genre: Smut, fairly detailed. Like, its dirty

Warnings: mentions of unprotected sex (wear a rubber, yall), breeding (? - if you squint and only for Jeongin's), Jeongin is a tad bit possessive, It gets more dirty the further you get.

✧ Masterlist ✧

Chan

Lee Know/Minho

Changbin

Hyunjin

Han

Felix

Seungmin

I.N

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blossom-hwa · 2 years

Text

inspired by an idea I came up with a while back that you can find here :)

wc: 1.8k ~ changbin x gender neutral!reader ~ pirate!au ~ triggers: mentions of blood and death ~ stray kids masterlist

~ Pirates attack, but with the blood comes an old memory.

[ riptide prince ] When the pirates come, your village hides.

In theory, everyone knows what to do. Flee to the forest if you can, ensconce yourself and your loved ones in the bushes and the trees or far enough in its depths that you only have to hide from predators of the Earthen Mother instead of pirates with their shining swords and lightning eyes. It’s the closest bet of safety from the carnage that will line the village the next day.

In theory, it’s a plan. A procedure, if you will, meant to take the edge off the anxiety when one mentions the possibility of the unexpected expected - the blood and plunder that line stories of old and new. It probably helps. To some, at least.

But not you.

Because there’s always been something that bothers you about this standard procedure, this clear-cut plan. It looks so clean, so orderly, so unquestionable in its directions - one, get to the forest, two, hide yourself. One almost forgets what it doesn’t say.

What do you do when the forest isn’t an option?

Maybe that’s because the answer is so simple it doesn’t even need to be said.

Hide. And pray.

Something you’re glad to have had experience with, because when the pirates attack this time, you’re too far from the forest to take any sort of chance to run.

They spot the ragged flag in the early hours of morning, from what you understand. The unknown ship was but a spot in the distance at that time. Anyone by the water had enough time to race for the trees, to hide themselves in green foliage or even the next village if they were fast enough.

Those who lived further away would not be so lucky.

You see the ship before you hear the warning - that’s how late it is. Few are so selfless as to risk their own safety to bring news to the damned (what is the point of warning them, you’ve heard people say, if they’re already doomed to die?), but one brave soul arrives just minutes after the initial panic has begun to set in with news that confirms your worst fears.

The ripped flag is exactly what you dread most.

Pirates.

There’s no time to run, then. Not to the forest, not anywhere that could provide sufficient cover. People panic around you as your heart races faster and faster, memories rushing back of the last attack five years ago that you survived by the skin of your teeth, arm and shoulder slashed and blood dripping over your clothes, enough blood that they thought you were dead when they passed your body, giving you enough time to crawl your way back to your ransacked apothecary and hide behind a fallen shelf.

It was devastating, then. So many dead. Your parents, cut down by swords as they tried to run home from the market. Your neighbors, mere bodies in the streets by the time the pirates were finished. And worst, worst of all because you never found the body, never found proof that he was dead, never heard anything that told you whether or not he was still alive -

Changbin, disappeared that day from the manor. Not... dead, probably, at least not then. Kidnapped, maybe. Held for a ransom.

The pirates didn’t know that his parents didn’t care for him. Not the second son, the family disappointment who mingled with the common folk. They didn’t know that the village aristocrats wouldn’t pay a copper for their second son’s release.

He’s probably dead now. Your best friend with the silk tunics he didn’t care were dirty, with the dark eyes and bright smile that only grew more and more brilliant as the years passed. The boy you cared for as a friend, and later as a lover - taken hostage by pirates, then probably drowned at sea.

A choked cry sputters from your lips. The sound of your own voice jerks you from your thoughts, clears your blurred vision and muffled hearing until you can see and hear the panic overtaking the village. You blink at the clear ocean, at the ship coming closer and closer -

And duck into your rundown apothecary, locking the door shut behind you.

You knew you’d never have time to run. You knew - only those who lived further in would ever reach the forest. You sweep through the tiny rooms, shutting windows and bolting doors, before throwing yourself into the cramped closet.

You know when the attack has started by the screams. High-pitched, terrifying shrieks coupled with the rough shouts and yells of get out of the way before someone else screams and you swear you hear the thump of a body fall. The very earth seems to shake beneath your feet, the flimsy closet creaking and swaying as footsteps pound closer and closer.

Your eyes slam shut. Your hands clench into fists so tight your nails begin to bite sharp into your palms, dull pain to keep your mind off the screaming that grows louder and louder by the second, by the minute -

But there is no screaming.

You open your eyes to the closet’s darkness. Commotion still sounds in the distance, but the shouts have gone.

It’s quiet.

You blink. You could’ve sworn you heard the screams getting louder before they stopped - is it really all over so soon?

One minute passes. Two, then three. You count the seconds to the beat of your racing heart - four, five, six...

Maybe it is over. Maybe it was just that fast.

You take a shaky breath, slowly releasing one of your hands from its clenched fist. It reaches out to push open the closet, slow, slow -

A knock sounds at your door.

. . .

It takes every fiber of your being not to scream.

Heart in your throat, hand over your mouth, you wait. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds... at five minutes, you decide, if five minutes pass and you hear nothing again, it was a hallucination. Just a hallucination.

Thirty seconds. Thirty-five. Forty -

It comes again, drumbeats of Death at your door. You keep your eyes shut tight, biting your palm in an effort not to shake so much that the tiny shop comes down around you. Maybe it’ll be fast. Hopefully it’ll be fast. No suffering, no pain, just reunion with your lost loves -

But -

A familiar voice calls your name.

“Y/N?”

. . .

Something in that single word knocks the air out of your chest. It isn’t so much your name that was spoken but the voice - the voice with which it was said -

You know that voice. You know it. Even deeper, raspier, coated with a slight accent that didn’t used to be present - you know it, even though the last time you heard it was many years ago.

The day before the pirates attacked, when Changbin smiled and bid you goodbye until the next morning.

Something seems to drag you, an invisible force that opens your trembling fist and pushes open the closet, pulls you forward until you reach the door with silent shuffling steps. But as your hand opens, touches the doorknob -

You pause. Because what if it’s a trick? And you know you have done nothing to the gods to warrant such a cruel trick, but just - what if -

“What did we do on your twelfth birthday?”

Your words carry through the door, the barest hint of a whisper that filters through the wood. For a moment you feel stupid - what kind of question is that, why did you ask, what if someone isn’t even there - but then the deep rasp of a familiar voice speaks with a certainty that breaks the final wall around your heart.

“We climbed a tree to see the moon at night, but I fell off the branch. You tried to catch me and fell off too.” Nostalgia tinges the edge of that familiar voice, wistful amusement aching in its tones. “I broke my arm, and you hit your forehead against a rock.”

A pause.

The voice grows softer. Hesitant.

“If you open the door, I can show you where.”

A choked sob builds in your throat. Your hand curls around the doorknob.

And flings it open.

He looks the same, but at the same time, he doesn’t. Black hair frames his face in longer locks that would have made his father rage, and a sword hangs by his side. Blood stains patched clothing and more of it drips down a cut on his face, but his eyes -

They’re just as you remembered.

A rough, calloused hand reaches out, a far cry from the smooth skin of a pampered noble boy that he used to boast. Those familiar eyes lock into yours as the hand rises, fingers coming to rest on your forehead where the scar you used to have has long since faded, but where the memory of that birthday lies.

“Here,” Changbin whispers, fingers brushing against your skin. “It was here.”

It was here.

A scar disappeared from a place no one would know but him.

It was here.

A choked noise rips through your throat as you finally let yourself fall into strong arms that you had long since despaired of seeing ever again, let alone feeling them wrapped around your torso once more - you never thought you’d see him, you thought he was dead -

“I’m not dead,” Changbin whispers, and when something wet drips onto your shoulder you know he’s crying too. “I’m not dead, Y/N. I’m back. I came back for you.”

For how long you stand there, incoherent sobs stifling the air, you don’t know. But when the tears have finally faded to a trickle, when you finally let yourself push away only slightly with the uncertain knowledge that he won’t disappear once more, Changbin grips your hands gently, tightly, rough palms scratching over your skin.

“I came back for you,” he says again, the same smile you fell in love with spread across his lips. “Will you now come with me?”

You look at your joined hands, at his teary smile. Your eyes rake across his face, taking in everything that has changed and everything that has stayed the same. Finally your gaze settles in his, in the dark eyes that used to hold worlds of comfort.

In the dark eyes that still do.

It doesn’t take you long to make your choice.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 heart for a reunited couple!!!!!!!)

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