Im Starting To Fear Im Clogging Your Reqs With Changbin Suggestions, Sorry About That 😞 But Your Writing

obsessed with noona!9th member reader :0 what if she gets harrassed by a stage invader during a show and end up tearing a calf muscle or something and cant join the boys in performing for a while?

okay damn shit calm down why is this so intense TT . . . interesting request, my anon !! however, ask and you shall receive <3

will i be okay? - ot8!skz x injured!9th member reader

pairing: ot8!skz x injured!9th member reader

summary: when a stage invader injures you in the middle of a performance, skz help you build yourself back up, little by little.

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, mentions of blood, wounds, bruises, fainting, general medical procedures, mentions of eating and drinking, soft skz all the way :(

a/n: omg it's been so long since i wrote . . . did yall miss me . . . (silence)

skz masterlist

You never saw it coming.

One minute, you were singing the chorus of 'Walking on Water', scrunching your nose and throwing a hand at the audience in passion, and the next, you were thrown face down to the stage floor, feeling the metallic clatter of your mic dully hitting the side of your face.

A throb in your shoulder, the wet feeling of something sliding down your skin. The sickly tang of iron in your mouth, and the incredibly sharp, stabbing pain in your calf.

"Y/n!" the fans had screamed in panic, unheard by you. "Watch out!"

There were screams; several yells, a confused start from one of the members who was singing, and the audience had gone quiet, dissolving into hushed murmurs and worried whispers.

It was Minho who first rushed to your side, almost tipping himself over as he pushed back the strange, dark-haired man who threw a half-hearted kick at your side.

You heard swearing; low and dark, a musty smell coming over your senses, and then the buzz of security as they manhandled the stage invader into the dark wings off the sides of the platform.

Dizzy.

You felt hands; worried hands brushing over your form, the latex gloves of the medical staff, Chan's strained reassurances in your ear as he scanned the stage for any other threats. Vision blurry, you turned your head to the side and saw the boys clustered in a group, Hyunjin and Seungmin calling out to the fans with their hands out, trying to calm them down.

Something wet swiped across the side of your face, cold and dripping against the clammy, salty heat of your cheeks. Shaking, you raised fingers to your face, brushing them lightly against your skin. It felt numb; your fingertips came away as scarlet as the lip gloss you'd put on earlier before the show.

Chan's voice broke through the haze, low and steady. "Breathe, Y/n, you'll be okay. We've got you, you're safe, yeah?"

Then, black.

.

"Ow- fuck-"

"Almost there," Lia, the JYPE company nurse, cooed at you gently as she pressed a new gauze pad to the wound on your shoulder. "Y/n, you really need to be more careful. It won't heal properly if you keep trying to push yourself before the wound is scabbed over..."

"I wonder how that happened," Minho remarks dryly from the door, hair messy, leaning against the frame. He watches as Lia disposes of bloody tissues in the bin. "Surely it can't be because of a certain Stray Kids member attempting to do a late-night practice on her own."

You scowl. "Shut up."

Felix interjects with a sigh, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "It won't be a long time, noona. Just until it's healed. You need the rest..."

"I'm fine," you insist, standing up and trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "I'm going back to the studio-"

"No, you're not," Minho says firmly. "You're going back to the dorm to rest. You're not leaving until Chan-hyung and I say you're allowed to."

You're about to shoot back in irritation, stubbornly refusing to listen, until your eyes catch Lia's. She gives you a look.

You groan. "Fine."

.

"I brought you tea," Changbin says quietly from your bedroom door. "Thought it might help."

You sit up as he walks in, and you take the steaming cup from him gratefully. It's soothing, the heat seeping through the porcelain and warming the frozen bones in your fingers.

Your eyes meet his as Changbin sits down on the edge of the bed, running his fingers over the duvet. The purple lights above your headboard bathe him in a soft, violet glow, and part of you feels bad for keeping him up this late.

You feel bad for waking Hyunjin, too. Not that he seemed to mind; he'd just gently chided you as Minho led you back to your dorm with a firm hand on your shoulder, and ruffled your hair as Changbin had helped you settle into bed.

You can hear him clattering about in the kitchen, no doubt searching for a late-night snack. Changbin is clearly used to the noise, because he doesn't blink as Hyunjin swears from the kitchen, whining about not being able to find his chips.

You take a sip of the tea; it's slightly minty, cooling you down even though the liquid is hot. It makes you immediately sleepy, warmth flooding your body and replacing the dull feeling that's been settling itself in your gut for the past few days.

Changbin's eyes flick to yours as you set the cup down on the beside with a clink.

"Tired?" He says softly. His hair is rumpled with sleep.

You shift on the bed, sliding down the pillow. "It's uncomfortable to sleep. I have to keep my leg up all the time."

"It'll be easier once you find the right position," he replies, picking up a pillow from the floor. "Here."

You take it from him and prop your leg up, nestling into the sheets. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Not at all. I don't think Hyun minded either. Speaking of, did you want something to eat?"

You shake your head quietly, downcast. If Changbin notices, he doesn't say anything, and he gently kisses your crown before closing the bedroom door softly behind himself.

You gnaw at the inside of your cheek. You feel even worse than before you'd tried to sneak out and practice alone. It was just so inconvenient; being harassed by a stage invader in the middle of a performance you'd worked so hard for, and you hadn't even been able to finish it.

Part of you wishes it had been one of the boys who'd gotten hurt. But that thought scares you more than the fact that you're injured, so you chase it out of your head and try to rest.

You fall asleep with the pillow soaked in tears.

.

"And one- Switch, Jisung to the back, Felix's part, and here, we go-"

Minho's voice rings out loud and clear as he shouts instructions to the members, music blaring out over his tone. You watch in amazement from the side of the studio floor, knees tucked to your chest.

It's common practice for him to shout moves and parts to the boys and you during practices, but the fact that he's dancing effortlessly at the same time makes your jaw drop a little. You can't believe it never occurred to you earlier, the level of breath control and strength he possesses.

He's amazing.

So are the rest of them.

It's been an hour, and none of them show any sign of slowing down. It doesn't matter who you look at, or when; all of them are dancing at full power, giving the routine and song their all, from Jeongin, whose vocals are stable even though he's constantly moving, and Hyunjin, who executes his switch to the back without missing a beat.

Part of you is glad to be able to sit back and watch; the feeling of pride sits in your chest like a warm, happy bubble, especially as your gaze meets the younger members' forms. You can't believe how far they've come.

But something about the way they glance at each other, even slapping each other's butts as they move past and grinning at each other in the mirror between moves tugs sadly at your heart.

You want to be a part of that again.

It's been two weeks, and Chan and Minho still aren't letting up. Neither is your manager, or JYP, no matter how much you nagged at him. Any of them. Lia was also in strong agreement that you rest more, but you've had enough. You want to get up and dance. Sing. Perform with your group members.

You scratch lightly at the sticky bandage on your shoulder. It hasn't come off yet, a miracle, and you sigh as you roll it back and forth, trying to alleviate the sensory feeling of it stuck to your skin. Hopefully you won't end up with a square of skin lighter than the surrounding tanned area once the bandage comes off.

You turn your leg from side to side, flexing the calf muscle gently. It only aches a little, the painful, sharp throb from the first impact a distant memory.

But not any less painful.

"Hey," you hear Chan's voice next to you. "Feeling any better?"

"Fine," you say bitterly, looking away. He's sweaty, the faded scent of cologne and musk washing over you in a soft, familiar wave. He flicks open the top of his electrolyte drink, leaning against the wall behind both of you.

He doesn't seem too upset by your harsh tone; taking a swig of blue liquid and then setting the bottle down, he turns to you. "I know it's hard, Y/nnie-"

"You don't get it, Chan," you snap at him suddenly, upset anger bubbling in your stomach unexpectedly. "You can perform and dance and sing and do everything properly while I'm stuck here, unable to even get up without someone fussing over me. I'm fine, okay? I want to join practices and performances again. I'm sick of this. All of it."

He doesn't blink, eyes softening. And suddenly, as quickly as it appeared, the intense emotion evaporates. It's replaced by the hot, wet feeling of tears sliding down your cheeks.

A calloused thumb reaches out and brushes them away. "I'm sorry, Y/n. It's awful not being able to perform. Trust me, I know." He turns to face you. "But if you keep trying to push yourself before you're healed, the time you have away from activities will only increase."

You sniff. He's right.

"It's just not fair," you whisper.

"No, it's not," Jisung says, sitting down next to you. Like Chan, he's sweaty, and you fight the sad, watery urge to smile as you spot a hint of last night's sparkly stage eyeshadow still smeared across his lids. "But we'd rather you rest safely than go out there injured, and risk getting hurt again, okay? We care about you."

"It's not as fun," Chan admits quietly. "On stage. We miss you. So do the fans. They've been ranting about the stage invader left and right. We're all here to support you, okay?"

You nod and wipe a hand across your eyes. "When can I get back to schedules?"

By now, the rest of the members have come and flopped down near you. You run a hand through Jeongin's damp hair as Seungmin toys with the clip on your leg bandage.

"You're gonna be okay, noona," Felix says softly, leaning his head on Hyunjin's shoulder.

The rest of the members nod eagerly and interject with their own reassurances, and it's all you can do not to cry. You sniff and Chan's hand covers yours in a warm flood of heat.

"Hey," Minho says dryly. "At least you don't have to slave away at the choreography like the rest of us-"

Chan clears his throat. "Minho."

He grins as the rest of the members and you dissolve into giggles.

a/n: i have an exam tomorrow . . .

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hiii baby!!! I love your work and this is like my first request I’ve sent to anyone at all 😭 but could you do 28 and 7 for Minho ^^ tysm!!

hihi cutie~ i've actually had both of these prompts before so i got better at writing them hehe. also amogus divider bc why tf not

keychain - bf!lee minho x reader

pairing: bf!lee know x reader

summary: you fight with minho and he comes back to make things right.

genre: non-idol! au, pretty angst, soonie doongie dori honourable mention, comfort, fluffy ending, soft minho

a/n: so i started listening to lana del rey and i wrote this to 'sad girl' also div by @si-eunnis

⛓️ prompts: 7. "I'm glad you're here." / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

You toss another dirty tissue across the countertop, sniffing as you watch it come to rest at the very edge, teetering. Leaning your cheek against the cold, marbled surface, you sigh and let the sharp feeling seep through your pores like iced water.

It does little to soothe the current puffy redness of your cheeks; how long have you been sitting here, crying? The golden hanging lights that frame the kitchen have made your hair warm to the touch, their beams caressing the messy state of it, and your back feels numb and achy from the awkward position you've been slumped in since Minho stormed out of the apartment. You sigh.

You don't even remember what you were fighting about.

Each exhale feels like it's been punched out of you as you relive the events of the past hour; him coming home, both of you tired and irritable, and then fighting over the pettiest thing that you don't even remember anymore.

Then he left.

You're not sure if he's coming back; he didn't take anything but his phone, which had been in his pocket as soon as he came in, and his work bag, which is still smashed against the wall where he'd dropped it with a sigh on coming home.

You can't fight a weak smile at the habit; you've installed multiple hooks along the wall so he can hang his bag up when he gets home, but every time you did, he'd always just drop it on the floor anyway, kicking off his shoes at the door.

And you'd smile and gesture at the hooks, but he'd just ignore them, kissing your fed-up expression off your face with a gentle mouth and squeezing your shoulder with a warm, solid hand.

The way he always does.

You look at those hooks now; one of the cats' collars is hanging off them, and several other items like hair ties and rings of keys adorn the others. You came into the kitchen one day and saw Minho hanging a cat toy from the hook nearest to the door so that, when he wasn't home, the cats would be able to play. Dori sits there now, batting with fluffy white paws at the feathers and bells on the string.

Ding, ding. Ding.

You're not sure why you're thinking of such things; surely anyone in your current situation would incessantly cry their eyes out, wailing at the mistake of fighting with their partner, instead of thinking about plastic wall hooks and under-stimulated cats.

You're so distracted that you don't even notice the apartment door open again, so slowly that it takes about half a minute for Minho to actually step inside.

He's soaked.

The smell of the night rain that he brings with him is suddenly so prominent inside the still air of the apartment that it's what makes you look up.

"Minho," you whisper, eyes red and puffy. You scrub a hand across your face, the skin stinging at the harsh treatment. You hadn't even heard the rain outside.

He doesn't look at you, just takes off his shoes, very deliberately. There's a little puddle of rainwater around his feet and you fight back an exhale as his socked feet meet the wet tiles. Dori immediately goes to nuzzle against his legs and then hisses at the unpleasant wetness of his owner's legs.

But Minho doesn't seem to notice, simply taking off layers until he's stood in his slacks and white work shirt, which is the only dry item of clothing he has on. He drops the rest of his clothes in a pile.

His eyes finally lift themselves to meet yours; the warmth in them is gone, replaced by something unreadable. A dull, heavy feeling settles in your gut, a sense of finality washing over your being. You know this is the moment that he'll say he wants to leave, that he just can't find it in himself to love you. He'll go to your shared room and start packing a suitcase, and take the cats with him, all while you wail and tug at his arms for him not to leave, please, Minho, don't leave-

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

Your gaze flits to his. Your voice is croaky, cracked, saturated with sadness. "What?"

He steps forward, ignoring the insistent mewing of Soonie and Doongie, who have just come into the room. "I'm sorry. I should have just left to clear my head and then came back, but I've been gone half the night."

You blink and look through tired eyes to the clock on the wall. It takes you a couple seconds to process the time. It's 1 am. Minho came home at 9 pm. You don't even know how many hours that is.

"How long were you walking in the rain?" You say, still whispering lest you scare him off again.

He shrugs. His mouth opens, like he wants to say something, but he's hesitant, like he's not sure how it will be received.

He speaks anyway. "I stalled for a while. I didn't know if you'd be here when I came back..." His fingers twist in the slightly damp material of his white shirt, fidgeting.

Your indignance suddenly takes over your upset state and you sit up straighter. "I would have waited all night for you, Minho. I wasn't going to leave..."

"I know," he says solemnly, and then quietly, "I'm glad you're here."

You nod and slowly slide off the chair you've been slumped in, disturbing a few of the tissues scattered across the countertop. "I'm sorry too, Min. I shouldn't have kept the argument going."

He shakes his head. "We were both tired. It happens."

You both stand in silence for a minute, neither one of you sure how to continue the conversation. It's almost awkward until Minho steps forward, taking out something from his pocket. He shyly holds it out.

You take a small step forward and take the small item from him. Unfolding your fingers from around it, you blink through unshed tears to see a small keychain resting in the palm of your hand. It's a little cat with its mouth open, its fur pattern like Soonie's, but grey instead of ginger. There's another attachment of a pink peach, and the clip keyring attachment is shaped like a heart.

You look up at Minho. His face is red. You remember suddenly that he's quite shy when it comes to giving things to people, and you can't fight the urge to throw yourself into his arms.

This little keychain is Minho's apology.

His skin is cold, damp from the rain, and the collar of his shirt is wet from the rain, but you hold him close anyway. You wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing your eyes shut. He's almost fetched up against the wall from how hard you threw yourself at him, but his arms find their familiar place around your shoulders.

You pull back slightly, gazing up at him. As if he wasn't soaked enough, your tears have left two patches on his chest, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"You're looking at me like that again." Minho says quietly.

You hum, a tear spilling down your cheek. "Looking at you like what?"

You see his throat bob, swallow hard. You can feel the constant thrum of his heart through the damp fabric of his shirt.

Minho gulps. "You always look at me like than when- when-"

"When I say I love you?" You finish for him.

Minho nods inaudibly, the movement of his head so small you almost don't see it at all. You smile, tilting your head at him, the tears beginning to slow.

You both stand there for who knows how long, clinging to each other, trapping between your bodies the smell of rain and fade cologne. Finally, Minho talks.

"I love you too."

a/n: this was way too long

Just wanted to pop in and say hi and thank you for always tagging me in your stuff! Thank you for making me feel so included (JJ from @justsomekpopstuff 💚😊)

that's okay !! i remember you were always one of the first to check out my stuff, so i figured you'd want to keep up :]

hello! just read your chan helping reader on their period post, it was so good, could you do one for changbin too? would be amazing <3

yayyy second request ! glad you liked the chan version, love 🤍

he comforts you on your period - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: you're struggling with your period and changbin helps you out

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, cramps and period pain, reader has a period, slight suggestiveness

a/n: comments are appreciated <3

You're curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your body. It cocoons you completely, providing a bubble of intoxicating heat and warmth that seeps pleasantly into your bones. You've been feeling sleepy all day but the drowsiness isn't enough to distract you from the constant, thrumming pain in your abdomen.

Shifting slightly to the left, you turn just enough to look out the living room window. It's clouded with fog, frosting the glass and making the outside world seem far, far away. It rained earlier, a few hours before you and Changbin had gotten up. You'd spent the morning talking in bed, laughing and sharing stories, and adoring each other (in more ways than one).

You'd been perfectly fine through all of that, up until Changbin had kissed your forehead and gotten dressed to go to the gym. You'd protested and whined about it, arguing that there was no reason to go work out this early in the morning, and that skipping one gym session wouldn't hurt. Especially in this weather. It was freezing.

He'd simply laughed and peppered a few more kisses to your face before quickly cooking you breakfast and leaving. You hadn't managed to eat it, though- as soon as you had left the bed, your phone rang. You'd been taking several phone calls from work for about half an hour, casually ignoring the faint, dull warning thuds in your stomach, signalling that your period was about to start. Instead of resting or at least warming up a heat pad, you'd gotten around to doing chores while on the phone with your boss. You figured that there was no harm in doing two things at once. If anything, it meant that stuff got done.

Determination had taken a firm hold of your senses, and you aspired to have finished most of the chores while on the phone. As you worked, you began to realise it was a bad idea; your stomach was beginning to throb, and you couldn't focus on what your boss was saying. The pain in your abdomen spread all the way down to your toes, making it difficult to do anything more than stand stiffly and wash the dishes, your shoulder propping your phone to you ear.

As soon as you had ended the last call, you sat down hastily. The cramps were beginning to set in now and it was too late to take medication. Even if you had taken a few painkillers, it would have taken an hour or so to set in, and you didn't have that kind of time. There was work to be done and you wanted everything to be done before Changbin got back.

Of course, no such luck.

Now you lay on the sofa, having had no more strength to do anything but pull out the biggest, fluffiest blanket you could find, and collapse into the cushions like a ragdoll. It was comfier than expected, despite the throbbing pain in your gut, but it didn't do much to alleviate it. All you could do now was push your way through it. Or you could call Changbin.

But you knew how much he loved his workouts, how much he loved pushing himself to do better. You knew it was unreasonable to be thinking like this, but you couldn't help but feel that he deserved a morning to himself undisturbed.

Yeah, no. If i have to go another minute without painkillers-

Pulling out your phone from under the thick folds of blanket, you clicked on Changbin's contact, waiting for him to pick up. It rung three times before he answered. The sounds of clanking, chatter, and faint workout music sounded from the speaker of your phone. Changbin's voice came through crisp and clear.

"Hey, bunny," he sounded breathless.

"Hi," you whispered, suddenly feeling guilty.

There was a pause.

"Bunny, you okay? What's wrong?"

You shifted to the left again, hip jerking suddenly as a particularly painful cramp shot through your abdomen, needle-sharp.

"Can- can you come home? My period started and-"

There was a heavy clank from the other side of the phone, followed by a hiss and a groan from Changbin. You fought the urge to smile. You'd heard that sound many, many times when he'd been working out at home. It was usually followed by Changbin's characteristic whining as you pressed an icepack to his foot, carefully and gingerly shifting the weight he'd dropped on himself to the side. His dramatic sigh sounded through the speaker.

"Why didn't you call me as soon as you started?"

You whine. "I didn't want to disturb you, I know you like working out uninterrupted-"

"Bunny, that's no excuse. I'm your boyfriend, it's my job to know about this, okay? I'm coming home."

"But-"

"No buts. I'll stop by the store to get snacks. We can have a day in, yeah?"

You bite your lip. "I can always try and get up-"

"Nononononono, don't do that. I'll be there soon, okay? We can eat and cuddle and watch a movie," his enthusiastic tone floated through the living room, making your mouth lift up at the corners.

"Binnie, are you sure?"

He laughs, "Of course I'm sure."

You smile freely then, feeling a fresh surge of affection and love wash over you, momentarily dulling the aching, cramping pains in your abdomen.

"I love you, Binnie."

"I love you too, bunny. Now, what ice cream do you want?"

a/n: requests are open !

lonely st. ✧ chapter v : behind closed doors

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: han jisung in the building, the usual stuff, hyunjin is confused poor baby :( yeji is a dick

a/n: chapter fiveeeee

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n watched as a butterfly fluttered past her, wings flapping haphazardly. Sighing and leaning against the rough, sanded brick of the school wall, she took a breath and began to walk home.

She'd been stalling for no particular reason; it was just that going home felt mundane and unexciting without the walk with Hyunjin. He'd told her in their last class that he was staying back for basketball practice that afternoon and she'd nodded, watching as he'd apologized for not being able to walk home with her.

Then he'd run off.

The sky seemed a little dimmer than usual, and Y/n clutched the strap of her bag as she made her way down the street, trying to become an inconspicuous presence amongst the throngs of students milling past her. She inhaled deeply as she put one foot in front of the other, the smell of the fresh, post-storm air soothing her lungs and cleansing her insides.

Y/n let her arms relax, her sketchbook slipping out from under the crook of her elbow and dropping to the pavement. Reaching to pick it up, her hand collided with someone else's, large and veiny unlike her own.

"Sorry, Y/n."

Y/n shook her head and took the sketchbook without looking at who it was, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She suddenly tilted her head in confusion, quickly checking the book for any damage.

"Wait- how do you know my name?"

"I'm in some of your classes. I don't think we've talked before, but I'm one of Hyunjin's friends. I play basketball with him too."

Y/n looked up hesitantly. The boy had a friendly, wide grin, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, much like the way Hyunjin wore his school shirt. His slightly fluffy hair was parted messily down the middle. He wasn't wearing a blazer or sweater vest, and Y/n noticed a pair of colourful sneakers on his feet, thick and chunky. Basketballer shoes.

The boy extended a hand. "I'm Han Jisung. Nice to meet ya."

"So, how's it going with Hyunjin?" Han asked casually, almost skipping alongside the path next to Y/n.

She glared at him warily, wondering if he was fishing for details, or trying to find out if she liked Hyunjin. But Han's face was open, not expectant or eager. Not a hint of malice showed in his features, just a casual, easygoing demeanour that Y/n sort of liked. He was quite the talker, so it suited her perfectly to walk in silence while Han talked about this and that.

"It's good," she said quietly.

Han nodded, jumping up to tug a random leaf off an overhanging branch. He'd offered to walk her home, and Y/n figured that if he was one of Hyunjin's friends, he was probably trustable. But she kept an eye on him nonetheless, not wishing to risk anything.

The walk had been nice, though, with Han keeping up a constant stream of cheerful chatter along the way. He's a bit like the sun, Y/n thought to herself.

She watched silently as Han leapt up to slap a sign with impressive height, a metallic thunk ringing out as he slammed a palm against it. He landed easily on his feet and turned back to Y/n, grinning.

"You try," he said.

Y/n shook her head and Han whined.

"Come onnnn, just one go. I reckon you can reach it."

Y/n sighed as Han excitedly took her bag, holding it for her. Mustering up the nonexistent strength, she ran a few steps, swinging her arms up for momentum, and jumped. Her palm hit the middle of the sign with a satisfying bang, the same thunking noise ringing out into the street.

Landing, she stumbled a little, before glancing up at Han, breathless. He cheered, clapping wildly, and handed her bag back to her. Y/n smiled without even realising. That was the fastest she'd moved in a long time. It felt good.

They reached the willow tree five minutes later, Y/n's smile fading unexpectedly. She'd actually really enjoyed walking with Han, and the rest of the walk home without his constant chattering and antics made Y/n's heart sink more than she would have liked to admit.

Han glanced up and let a hand trail through the low-hanging fronds of the willow. Thoughtfully tugging off a couple leaves, he let them flutter to the pavement before looking across at Y/n, who was seemingly lost in thought.

He turned and dug through his bag, hand reaching past the mess of pencils, uncapped pens, crumpled worksheets, and- oh, that's where his wrist brace went- to pull out a scrap of paper and a pen.

Scribbling down his number, he glanced across at Y/n, who was still staring into the distance, and recapped the pen. Shyly, he poked her arm and held out the piece of paper.

She took it hesitantly and glanced at the messy writing. Her eyes widened a tiny bit.

Han shook his hands frantically at her surprised expression, afraid he'd gone too far. "U-um, I just thought it'd be good for you to have my number- you know, since we're both friends with Hyunjin and all, it might be good to stay in contact.. if you want to, of course-"

Y/n nodded, butterflies taking flight in her stomach. "Thanks."

"That's okay. Maybe we can text tonight? Again, if you want to..."

Y/n smiled a tiny bit, the expression feeling strange and unfamiliar. She'd only known Han for 20 minutes, but he already felt like a friend. Maybe they already were friends.

Was it possible to be friends with someone even if you hadn't known them for a long time? Or was that just something people said all the time, but wasn't actually true?

She bid Han a quiet goodbye and he turned and walked back down the street, pausing only to give her a grin over his shoulder. He gestured a texting action with his hands and mouthed 'tonight' before turning the corner and disappearing.

Y/n glanced down at the piece of paper between her fingers. He'd scribbled his number haphazardly across the paper. Next to the last digit was a little smiley face and a messy rendition of a basketball.

The strange, warm, fuzzy sensation came back, settling in Y/n's stomach like a warm, chocolatey drink on a cold winter's day.

For the first time, Y/n welcomed the feeling.

Y/n sighed in relief, shutting her textbook. Her teachers were really dishing out the homework this week for some reason. She'd told herself to finish it before texting Han, and her fingers had been itching to touch her phone throughout. She'd ended up shutting it into her bedside drawer so she wouldn't get distracted.

Looking out her window thoughtfully, she put the textbook neatly to the side and moved to her bed, pulling out her phone from the drawer. She bit her lip

What if it was all just a joke? What if Han had just given her his number so he could clown her for thinking that he really was her friend?

Shaking her head, Y/n entered Han's number and hit the texting application. Thumbing out a short message, she hit sent before she could second-guess herself.

*texting unknown number* y/n: han? unknown number: y/n, hey!

Y/n blinked, wondering if she was seeing things. She wasn't. That was fast.

unknown number: i was worried i'd written my number down wrong. i'm not good at remembering stuff, so i'm glad i got it right 👌 y/n: yeah y/n: thank you for walking with me today unknown number: of course unknown number: it was fun, actually unknown number: and a nice change from having to listen to felix scold me about eating things i shouldn't y/n: ... unknown number: don't question it unknown number: by the way, you can call me jisung. we're friends now, so you don't have to be formal 😁 *y/n changed 'unknown number' to 'jisung'* y/n 🎨: there, i changed it jisung: cool jisung: i already changed yours to 'y/n 🎨' y/n 🎨: why the paint palette emoji? jisung: hyunjin told me and felix that you sketch. he said you're really good. jisung: you being an artist is really cool. i can't draw to save my life

A warm feeling spread across Y/n's cheeks, the same way it had when she'd shown Hyunjin a snippet of one of her sketches during their daily lunchtime library sessions. She wondered when Hyunjin had told his friend about her passion for sketching.

Y/n thought that Jisung was honestly really sweet for not being afraid to compliment her on it.

y/n 🎨: thanks y/n 🎨: you said you played basketball? jisung: yup jisung: we have a championship tournament coming up soon too y/n 🎨: that's cool y/n 🎨: are there positions in basketball? like offense or defence jisung: yeah, i play power forward jisung: hyunjin plays center since he's pretty much the designated captain, plus he's really good y/n 🎨: i haven't seen him play, but i can believe that jisung: yea, he's amazing. wish i could be as good as he is y/n 🎨: i bet you're a great player too jisung: you know, you're actually really nice y/n 🎨: thanks...? jisung: nonono not like that jisung: i just meant that i didn't expect you to be so sweet, you usually sort of come across as... y/n 🎨: cold? jisung: ...yeah. but it's not a bad thing. jisung: it just means that when you do show emotion, you mean it with your whole heart

Y/n rolled over onto her back and looked up thoughtfully at the ceiling. She'd never thought of it that way. It made sense.

A thought occurred to her suddenly.

y/n 🎨: hyunjin usually walks home with me jisung: yeah, he told me about that. when you gave him the bandaids too. jisung: what about it? y/n 🎨: he said he had basketball practice. you're on the team too, so how come you didn't know jisung: i thought you were y/n, not some sort of super detective, jeez! y/n 🎨: haha, it just occurred to me jisung: hyunjin sometimes stays back by himself so he can practice. though i do think he overdoes it sometimes y/n 🎨: he seems like he loves playing basketball a lot jisung: sometimes i think if i asked him to choose between me and his beloved basketball, he would choose basketball 🥲

Y/n let out a quiet laugh as she read Jisung's message. No wonder him and Hyunjin were friends. They had the same easygoing demeanour, the same effortless style of humour.

y/n 🎨: i doubt hyunjin would choose basketball over you, if that makes you feel any better jisung: i wish 😔 he spends a lot of time practicing by himself after school most days jisung: speaking of, did you want his number?

Y/n put her phone down and bit her lip. Would it be weird if she said yes? She didn't want to come across as clingy or overly attached. She typed out a reply.

y/n 🎨: no, it's okay. jisung: you just gonna wait til he gives it to you himself?

Y/n must have paused for a bit too long after reading his message, because Jisung followed up.

jisung: don't sweat it if that's what you were planning to do jisung: he could do with the push

She huffed out a laugh on an exhale and typed back.

y/n 🎨: maybe don't push him too far, he might fall over y/n 🎨: i think he's injured enough... jisung: at least he has you and your bandaid supply to keep him going lol y/n 🎨: yup jisung: super sorry dude but i have to go finish my overdue math homework tonight or my teacher might actually throw me out the window y/n 🎨: who's your math teacher? jisung: mr yang y/n 🎨: we have the same math teacher. i never realised jisung: oh we do, that's dope jisung: we should sit together next class y/n 🎨: sure, if you want y/n 🎨: just curious, but how long is your math homework overdue by? jisung: ... jisung: three and a half weeks y/n 🎨: that's actually crazy y/n 🎨: no wonder mr yang is so stressed all the time jisung: shut up jisung: anyway, we have math tomorrow, so i'll see you then y/n 🎨: okay. see you later, jisung jisung: byeee 👋

Hyunjin slumped down onto the bench, sweaty hair mussing against the wall. His shoes squeaked against the court's polished wooden floor as he stretched out his legs in front of him.

How long had he been practicing for? An hour? Two? A whole day?

The bell that went at the end of the school day felt like it had gone a long time ago. All Hyunjin wanted to do was head home, take his sweaty basketball gear off, shower, and eat something good. Then he would collapse into bed and feel the soft, soft pillow against his cheek...

His phone buzzed. Sighing, Hyunjin reached into his bag and pulled it out. He flicked open the notification bar and saw that he had a new message from Yeji. Groaning, he swiped the chat open.

yeji 🍭: you coming over tonight?

Hyunjin pursed his lips and blew a strand of sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes.

hyunjin: huh? yeji 🍭: for tutoring, silly hyunjin: oh

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't feel like going. He felt exhausted. But Yeji would never let him hear the end of it if he backed out. And it had been a while since they'd talked. He was sort of missing her.

hyunjin: sure hyunjin: give me half an hour yeji 🍭: see you then, jinnie

Hyunjin slurped up a mouthful of ramen, gulping down the noodles and broth. He groaned. Food always tasted better after practice. It tasted even better after he was all cozy and cleaned up.

Yeji had opened the door as soon as he'd knocked. Her parents were often out at night time, since they both worked late office jobs, and she was only too happy to have the house to herself and Hyunjin.

He'd taken a shower at hers and changed into his spare set from his duffel bag before heading into her room. It felt so good to wash off all the sweat and grime he so often collected during intense training sessions. He'd stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it soothe his muscles and relieve the aching.

Walking into her room, Hyunjin noticed she'd set the lighting low and easy on the eyes, gold and pink hues shining out from the lampshade to cast patterns around the room.

Currently, he was sitting on her bed, slurping ramen from an instant noodle cup. Yeji was sitting on her desk chair, deep orange locks tied back messily in a bun, doing the same thing.

Countless times they'd done this. Their parents were close friends and the result of that growing up was a lot of time spent at the other's place. Now, the routine felt comforting and familiar.

It was a little awkward at times, considering they were both older now, but Hyunjin was grateful for her company. What with all the stress and hustle from schoolwork and basketball practice, it felt good to slow down and just relax.

Yeji glanced across at him as he set the empty ramen cup down on her bedside. She chuckled as he flopped back onto her bedspread, almost hitting his head on the wall.

"Careful."

Hyunjin only groaned in response, too exhausted to do anything else.

"Do we have to study?" He managed to get out.

Yeji laughed and set her own cup down, moving to flop down into a beanbag on the floor. The sky outside was dimming in shades of orange and lilac.

"Not if you don't want to. But what happened to wanting to pass the semester, Jinnie?"

Hyunjin sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, gazing at her blearily. "I can do that when I'm not completely exhausted."

Yeji got up and turned the lamp up a little higher before moving to sit next to him. She poked his leg.

"Come on, don't fall asleep."

Hyunjin simply rolled over, turning his back to her. Sure, Yeji could be fake and irritating and more than a bit of a drama queen if she felt like it, but she was Hyunjin's childhood friend. A close confidant, and good company too. Sometimes he wasn't sure what to think of her, but sometimes he liked her a lot too.

He found his heart thudding as she leaned over to poke his cheek. Her airy perfume filled the space between them with a soft, vanilla scent.

She smells so good...

"Jinnie," she said softly. "If you fall asleep here, where am I supposed to sleep? On the floor?"

"In my arms," he murmured, feeling hazy and pleasantly drowsy.

She leaned closer, having not heard what he'd said. "What?"

"Nothing..."

Yeji sighed, lying down behind him and putting her hands behind her head. She stared up at the ceiling, letting her legs dangle off the bed.

"How's basketball?"

"Busy," he whispered in response. "How's dance?"

"Busy."

Hyunjin rolled over, propping his head under his elbow. "Your competition is soon, isn't it?"

Yeji nodded, not taking her eyes off the ceiling. She'd taken her hair out, but there was a little star barrette she'd left in on the right side of her head, near her ear. She must have forgotten about it. Hyunjin could tell she was tired like he was; there were slight bags under her eyes now that she'd removed the concealer from them, and her eyes were drooping shut.

He took a deep breath and reached out to gently unclip the barrette from the locks, his heart pounding so loud it hurt. She didn't move. Hyunjin's eyes flicked to her face and he realised they were shut.

She's asleep, he thought in relief.

Glancing outside, he checked the time on his phone; it was getting late, and he'd be expected to get home soon. He set the star hairclip next to her before reaching out with a shaky hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, light as a feather.

He could stay a little longer.

Through his exhaustion, Hyunjin could feel guilt suddenly nagging at his consciousness. How could he be lying her next to her, crushing on her and touching her hair, knowing what she'd said about Y/n? That she was an outcast, that she was only friends with Y/n out of pity...

It's not like Y/n knows about it, Hyunjin desperately reasoned with himself, fighting against his moral compass.

The little sensible voice in Hyunjin's head spoke up. You know it's not right, Hyunjin. Even if you're close friends with Yeji, it's not worth it to throw Y/n under the bus... right?

Hyunjin grit his teeth. Was he willing to lose Yeji in order to become closer with Y/n? Or would he just mess everything up with Yeji? She was his childhood friend. He'd only known Y/n for just under a month's worth of time.

Hyunjin tugged at his damp hair in agitation.

Do the right thing.

Picking up his duffel, he quietly checked he'd gotten every one of his belongings before heading out the door. His desires fought him every step out of her room. He glanced at her sleeping figure before taking a deep breath and continuing away.

He headed quietly down the stairs, and across the living room, before opening the front door. Confusion, agitation, frustration, and indecision tugged at his heartstrings and settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, like he'd eaten something that had gone bad.

A tear ran down his cheek as he started off down the street.

Hyunjin lifted his head from the pillow as his phone let out a ding, signalling a new notification. Groaning and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, he reached across and glared at the bright screen.

yeji 🍭: hey, where'd you go? yeji 🍭: i woke up and you were gone

Hyunjin sighed and flopped onto his back. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he'd gotten home, but not before having a little cry. He'd never tell any of the boys, but he liked the feeling of crying, the feeling of the weight lifting off his shoulders. He typed out a reply.

hyunjin: sorry, i had to go, i was expected home yeji 🍭: could've left me a note, jinnie yeji 🍭: i thought you would have stayed the night yeji 🍭: it would have been nice, just the two of us hyunjin: what do you mean? hyunjin: i mean i've stayed the night before, but it seems like you're saying something different this time... yeji 🍭: i mean yeji 🍭: you know yeji 🍭: it is different hyunjin: how so? yeji 🍭: you know why it's different, jinnie.

Hyunjin's hands fumbled and he dropped his phone on his forehead at her reply. He winced and rubbed the red spot on his forehead.

She knows. She knows. She knows.

He shoved his phone under his pillow and buried his face in it, trying to erase the whole evening from his mind. Regret washed over him. He should have just denied her 'tutoring' invite and gone home. He could have saved himself all the time and trouble.

And all of the tears.

taglist (open) : @kozumesphone @bangchansgirlsblog @ms-flowergirl @stayriversflow

✨ send a request or DM to be added / removed !

how skz loves you - maknae line

pairing: ot8 maknae line x reader

summary: how skz maknae line would love you.

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, crack

a/n: comments are appreciated <3

han ♡

Han shows his love through his energy and enthusiasm. He’s always coming up with fun ideas to make you smile, whether that’s a spontaneous karaoke session, a silly dance, or a surprise outing to your favorite place. He’s incredibly supportive, always cheering you on and reminding you of how amazing you are, especially when you’re doubting yourself. Han loves to share his world with you, often sending you funny memes, songs that remind him of you, or little voice notes just to say he’s thinking of you. He’s also very affectionate, constantly giving you hugs, back rubs, or just leaning his head on your shoulder. Han is the type to remember every little detail you share with him, from your favorite snacks to your biggest dreams, and he makes an effort to show you that he’s paying attention. His love is like a burst of sunshine—warm, bright, and full of joy <3

felix ♡

Felix’s love is shown through his warmth and nurturing nature. He’s always checking in on you, asking how your day went and genuinely wanting to hear all the details. Felix loves to bake for you, often surprising you with your favorite cookies or a new recipe he tried out just for you. His hugs are legendary—warm, tight, and comforting, as if he’s wrapping you in all the love he has to offer. Felix also loves to give compliments, always finding ways to make you feel special and appreciated. Whether it’s complimenting your outfit, your smile, or just the way you are, Felix is always reminding you of how much you mean to him. He’s also incredibly thoughtful, often doing small things like bringing you a blanket when you’re cold or making sure you have everything you need before he goes to sleep. His love is gentle and kind, making you feel safe and cherished <3

seungmin ♡

Seungmin shows his love through his reliability and quiet acts of service. He’s always there when you need him, whether it’s helping you with something or just being a listening ear after a tough day. Seungmin might not always be the most outwardly affectionate, but his love is clear in the way he consistently puts you first. He remembers the little things, like how you take your coffee or what kind of music you like, and he’ll make sure those things are ready for you without even being asked. Seungmin also loves to offer practical support—helping you with tasks, offering advice, or just being a steady presence in your life. He’s the type to send you reminders to take care of yourself, or to leave you a cup of tea on your desk when you’re working late. His love is dependable and strong, making you feel cared for in a quiet, meaningful way <3

jeongin ♡

I.N shows his love through his youthful energy and genuine care. He’s always eager to spend time with you, whether that’s playing games, going on adventures, or just hanging out and chatting. I.N loves to make you laugh, often coming up with funny stories or playful jokes to see you smile. He’s also very thoughtful, often surprising you with little gifts or notes just to let you know he’s thinking of you. Despite his playful nature, I.N is incredibly attentive—he notices when you’re feeling down and will do everything he can to cheer you up, from bringing you your favorite snack to planning a fun outing to distract you. He’s also very affectionate, always giving you hugs, holding your hand, or leaning on you when you’re together. His love is pure and sincere, making you feel cherished and adored in a way that’s both sweet and heartwarming <3

a/n: i put a lot of thought into this hahah... hopefully its worth it <3

omgomg can you please write a 9th member fic (chan x f!reader) where they attend the milan show together (the one chan is at rn) 🥹🫶

hihi sorry this took a while to answer >< it's here now tho . i liked this idea so much, i haven't written much fashion event stuff ! maybe i added a little surprise near the end, but you'll just have to see hehe . here you gooo~

fendi - bangchan x female!9th member reader

pairing: bangchan x female 9th member reader

summary: chan asks you to accompany him to the fendi event in milan.

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, super duper fluffy and cute, sleepy channie, mentions of eating and drinking, swarming from fans, lots of mentions of camera flashes, chan almost falling over (yes that is a warning)

a/n: yuhh i'm so back guys ! div by @elleisdesigning

skz masterlist

Chan who surprises you with the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers as he hands you the invitation to the Fendi show in Milan. Who flushes as you look up in shock and shyly explains that he wants you to be his plus-one to the event. He lets out an 'oof' as you fly into his arms, almost knocking him over and nodding over and over again to accompany him to Milan. He grins again in relief as you explain that you don't have anything half as fancy to wear and pokes your cheek, telling you that your outfit isn't something you should be worried about, and that he would handle all of it. You're unconvinced but decide to trust him anyway, and coincidentally, later in the day, he asks what your favourite colour is.

Chan who holds your hand all the way to the airport and refuses to let go, even when you're all swarmed by the photographers and fans. His leader-mode kicks in and he protects you from the swarms as you navigate through the airport. His grip is strong, warm, and steady, and he leads you skillfully through the throngs of people pressing in on both of you until you reach the terminal gate. Makes you go first and presses a warm hand to your back as he guides you down the ramp. Refuses to sit down until you've found your seat and then offers to swap places with you so you can have the window seat. He spends about half an hour gazing out at the ground falling away beneath you and then immediately falls asleep, his mouth open and hair endearingly ruffled as the plane vibrates all around you, rising higher and higher in the air.

Chan who wakes up sleepily when the plane lands and accidentally stands up too soon, almost ending up sprawled in the aisle as the plane bumps against the tarmac. He guides you through the mess of cameras and flashes and falls asleep again in the car on the way to the hotel you'll both be staying in. You wake him up and watch him drain a bottle of water as you step out of the car, heading into the lift and up to your shared hotel room. You watch him bustle around the room, making phone calls and arranging food to be delivered, and then nuzzle into his shoulder as he sits down on the bed next to you, coiling an arm around your shoulders as you both watch the city bustling with life from outside the window.

Chan who offers you his hand as he steps out of the car, letting you take his arm as you both make your way inside the stylist's room that's been temporarily set up for the event, and fights a grin as you look around in curiosity and ask what you're doing here. He leads you to a curtain and pulls it back, nodding thankfully at the designer, and jumps when he hears you gasp and then squeal in delight. Your hands trace the beautiful, flowing fabric of the gown and you throw your arms around the leader, not caring who sees. His face is tinged pink as you run over to the mannequin once more and fawn over the dress he's had custom-made for you for the event. It's sparkly and subtle and just the right colour, and you hold back another squeal as you realise, this is why Chan asked your favourite colour a few days earlier. Not that he didn't already know what it was...

Chan who presses a hand gently onto your knee as the car pulls up to the carpet leading into the Fendi event. His gaze is reassuring and a little of the subtle sparkle on your cheeks come away on the curve of his fingers as he brushes a strand of hair off your face, promising that you'll do great. Not that the sparkle on his hands makes a difference; he looks stunning as always, and whispers the same thing back to you as he offers you his arm. You close your eyes briefly against the camera flash and step out of the car, letting him lead you inside. He stays with you and gracefully walks you around, greeting people, introducing you, and mingling with the crowd. As expected, he is a hit; unexpectedly, so are you. You're entirely comfortable in just an hour, and you even receive some lovely compliments on your appearance at the event.

Chan who secretly strokes your hand with a gentle thumb as both of you stand and pose for the cameras; he keeps your intertwined fingers behind the both of you, his smile warm and genuine as photos are snapped endlessly. The subtle, secret yet possessive gesture makes your heart flutter and you fight a laugh as he whispers jokes and comments to you in an attempt to make you smile harder than you are. He succeeds, and the result is a beautiful photo of the both of you on the cover of several fashion articles and websites, who all sing your shared praises, gushing over your outfits and potential chemistry (the members, who have been keeping updated on the event, cheekily start planning your eventual wedding).

Chan who's glad he brought you along; he's never seen his ninth member and secret crush looking so stunning and effortless. He thanks his stars for the rest of the night as he remembers the courage it took to ask you to accompany him to the event. He's never been prouder of you, and later, when the event ends, he takes you out on a walk, both of you licking at ice creams in the warmly-lit streets and talking about the day. His heart is fluttering as he wipes a little of ice cream off your lips and presses his mouth to yours, sweet treats forgotten as you melt immediately into his embrace, relishing the warmth and steady comfort he always manages to exude.

He couldn't be happier.

a/n: i'm thinking of starting a fic taglist, the post for it will be up soon ><

lonely st. ✧ masterlist (hyunjin x reader)

summary : Y/n has been struggling with depression for months, but the isolation she feels at school makes it feel even worse. It’s relentless, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t escape the constant whispers, taunts, and loneliness. But then there’s Hyunjin—her curious classmate and a popular figure at school. Slowly, he begins to see the pain behind Y/n's eyes. With the help of his best friend, Han, Hyunjin offers Y/n something she didn’t know she needed: a lifeline.

warnings : depression, all characters are of high-school age, loneliness, bullying, school!au, mentions of injuries, literally nothing is proofread, more warnings will be added as chapters are released ! see the warnings at the top of each chapter for more information .

chapter i : invisible

chapter ii : the first glimpse

chapter iii : the walls

chapter iv : falling

chapter v : behind closed doors

chapter vi : broken mirrors

chapter vii : the people who care

chapter viii : the breaking point

chapter ix : healing

season finale - chapter x : a new dawn

a/n: guys i actually thought this one out

the fast lane : part 2 (bangchan x reader x felix)

Summary: Welcome to the world of underground street racing. Chan is known for his flashy cars and confident attitude. You're new to the racing scene, eager but inexperienced. Felix is known for his sneaky tactics and charming demeanour. What happens when all three of your worlds collide?

Warnings: skz racer!au, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, passing out (very light stuff tho, nothing detailed), angsty reader hours, wc 3.3k

series masterlist

part 2 : the lollipop

Y/n stormed into the backstage area, whipping around on her heel and slamming the two-way door shut behind her. The doorframe creaked as she slid down against it. Frustrated, angry tears burned in her eyes.

Retrieving the second-hand helmet tucked under her arm, she tossed it across the dimly lit room. It landed with a quiet clunk onto the floor, rolling a few metres away before coming to rest against the leg of an old, worn-out, leather sofa.

Y/n groaned and slid further down the doorframe, limp hair mussing in tangles against the wood of the door. Her back hurt from the awkward position and her leather suit chafed uncomfortably against her sweat-slicked skin, but she couldn't have cared less.

A few hot tears spilled down her cheeks, adding to the wet saltiness of her face and jawline. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could, Y/n attempted to forget the memory. Making the deal with Chan, the best street racer in the city. Being so overconfident and sassy to him, positive she'd place a win, only to have spun out in the last few seconds of the race. She kicked herself mentally. How she have gotten so confident? She was a mere rookie, a beginner in the racing scene. And yet she had had the guts to pretend like she was one of THEM, dressed in an expensive, tailored racing suit, with a flashy, colorful car and a personal pit crew at the ready to respond to every whim and command.

On top of all of that, she couldn't believe she had accepted the deal wit Chan. She should have turned it down and made a name for herself. She should have let him know that she could stand on her own two feet, and that she could become one of them. It was likely, she realised, that if she had won and accepted a choice of racecar from Chan, he would have used it against her as leverage in every possible scenario. Y/n was disgusted at her gullibility and eagerness. She'd gotten so hasty that she'd forgotten all the implications and consequences that came with attempting to become a street racer.

As soon as her car had pulled to the side, Y/n had thrown open the rusty car door and fled to the backstage room, shoving through the crowd in her haste. The jeers and whooping from the other racers, coupled with the burning embarrassment and the cheers for the racer who'd actually won accumulated and swirled around her in a thick fog of shame, pathetic self-pity, and hopelessness, seeping into her bones and taking hold of her senses till it seemed that failure was woven into every single fibre of her being.

She couldn't shake the images from her mind. Chan, standing at the winner's podium, surrounded by adoring fans, raising a fist in blazing triumph. The almost sympathetic look he'd given her as she'd fled the arena. The steely glare and the tuts from the maintenance crew she'd paid for the night. The consistent, nagging feeling that she shouldn't have tried, shouldn't have gone further than simply entertaining the thought of being a street racer.

More than that, she felt humiliated.

Curling her knees to her chest, Y/n buried her face between them, inhaling the stale scent of leather and sweat. Everything was a colossal mess. If she was lucky, then maybe the universe would crack open beneath her feet and swallow her up in thick, molten rivers of lava and fiery tongues of flame. It would be better than having to face the entire arena of racers who had watched her lose her first race. Better than having to walk out, head hung in shame. She could already hear the taunts and jeers, though if they were from the racers milling around outside the backstage area or her own brain, she wasn't sure.

Look, it's that overconfident rookie!

She really thought she could win against Chan... what a joke...

If she's smart, she won't come back here.

The two-way door against Y/n's back suddenly swung open, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her head hit the dirty linoleum with an unpleasant thud. The world spun and she groaned, eyes shut. Hands flying to the sides of her head, she slowly opened her eyes, wincing. She could see two legs and the top of a pair of combat boots, all sheathed in dark, shiny leather, and further up-

Oh shit!

Flying bolt upright, Y/n turned and profusely apologized to the man standing in the doorway. Her knees hurt from the speed at which she'd whipped around on them but she ignored it, still blinded by the dazing pain in her head. Her cheeks flushed bright scarlet.

The man raised an eyebrow, pulling out something thin and white from between his lips. Y/n blinked, thinking it was a cigarette, but upon closer inspection, she could see the thin, white stick of a lollipop. He poked it back into his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. He didn't seem even mildly put out by the fact that Y/n had been staring up his crotch just a few moments earlier.

He was quite handsome, too. Maybe even a bit more than Chan. Somewhere in the subconscious realm of her thoughts, Y/n realised that the pretty yet staunch man in the doorway must have gotten used to being stared at. Whether it was by Y/n lying between his legs from where she'd fallen or by the other attractive girls out in the arena, he had the air of someone who had such beauty that there was no need to flaunt it.

Damn it, are all the male racers here attractive or what?

Y/n's frantic apologies faded off unsurely into the air as she stared back up at the man. She was on her knees, half-crouched, hands in front of her. She must have been frantically explaining and apologising for at least a minute now, but he hadn't said a word.

If anything, he looked intrigued.

They stared at each other a few minutes; Y/n's miserable, frantic, pleading expression contradicting his steady, sure gaze. Y/n finally collected her thoughts enough to actually look at him. He was very pretty at first sight, but up close Y/n could see faint white scars flecking his forearms, hands, and neck, as if something, or someone had scratched him. His eyes were dark and chocolatey, complementing the silky waves of purplish mahogany falling freely over his forehead, swept into a neat part in the middle. His mouth was a perfect, pink pout, glossy and rosy in the middle where he'd shifted the lollipop between them.

His outfit was a bit like Chan's but more casual, stylish shirtsleeves rolled to his arms and leather pants and boots, all in the same, intimidating shade of black. There was a large, abstract cutout in the shirt to the right side of his chest. A heavy silver chain and a wide- leather belt studded with tiny diamonds looped around his waist elegantly, framing his form.

Crouching before this absolute model of a man, Y/n felt like a common street urchin. Her mind wandered a little, and so did her eyes. But he still hadn't said anything. Y/n was beginning to wonder why he'd come into the room in the first place. Maybe to put her out of her misery. Attempting to speak, she cleared her throat.

"U-uhm..." Her voice came out thick, raw and croaky from crying. She clenched her fists and looked down suddenly, feeling a fresh wave of humiliated tears fill her eyes. He would mock her for sure.

"Hey, kid."

Y/n's head snapped up. His voice was soft and clear. Precise and measured. It wasn't like Chan's voice. Not at all. It was a little accented, but it was lovely. Pretty, almost.

Y/n tried to speak, willing her voice not to wobble. It came out quieter than she'd expected, a barely audible whisper. "Yes?"

"You're absolutely shit at racing, you know that?"

Y/n blinked, her misery temporary halted by the unexpectedly blunt statement. The man continued.

"That last turn was ass. Surely you can do better. You've got the skills, I can tell, but your reflexes need work."

Y/n gaped, dumbfounded. Who was this guy, waltzing into the room and critiquing her so bluntly? He looked like a proper racer, but still, there was no need to be so harsh about it. Y/n sighed and looked down, having come up with no retort to throw back in the man's face. She remained crouching, resigned to her fate.

She heard a small sigh from above here before a hand reached down, wrapping around her right bicep. It was gentle, but enough to lift Y/n to her feet. Firm, but not enough to hurt. His hand was quite large, rippled with veins, the knuckles a bit too big for the fingers. It was a pretty hand nonetheless, the skin smooth and tanned, and Y/n felt a small surge of thankful heat pool in her stomach at the unexpected, almost caring gesture.

Her knees throbbed faintly as she straightened herself. The man's grip on her arm loosened, but remained hovering uncertainly near, as if he was afraid she was going to fall. And in all honesty, Y/n did feel as if her legs were about to give out.

She stuttered a little as she spoke, her consciousness floating about her like a foggy daze. "T-thanks."

He tilted his head at her curiously. "Have you ever raced before? In a proper circuit?"

Unprepared for the direct question, Y/n averted his gaze, cheeks flushing. "No, I- tonight was my first time."

It must have been the adrenaline and the exhaustion surging through her body, but Y/n flushed even darker as she spoke, although her response carried no connotation whatsoever.

If he noticed, he didn't call her out on it, simply settling to fiddle with the lollipop stick still in his mouth. He let his hand fall from her arm back to his side, but it soon came back up to unexpectedly cradle the side of Y/n's head. She flinched at the surprising gesture, anticipating a hit from the racer, but he simply let his hand curve gently around the nape of her neck. He looked suddenly concerned and mildly put out.

"Did you know you've hurt yourself, by the way?"

Y/n blinked. She hadn't been previously aware of any injury on her body, but now that he had mentioned it, the back of her head stung a little, where her hairline met the soft skin of her neck. And she felt dazed, like she was floating...

Her hand came up to shakily press the back of her head, feeling for any sort of injury. When her fingertips met her nape, she felt a searing, white-hot shock of pain.

Her knees gave out and the racer was quick enough to dart forward, taking the brunt of the fall. He awkwardly looped his arm around Y/n's waist, holding her upright, and moved to sit her down on the flaking faux leather of the worn-out couch.

The world spun dizzyingly around her before going black.

~

Y/n woke to something cool and wet being pressed onto her forehead. Groaning weakly, she tensed her shoulders, testing her range of movement. She recognized the ceiling as being the backstage area; she must have remained in the same position on the couch after passing out.

A gentle, lulling hum came from her side. She turned her head to the right and saw the purplish-haired man from earlier, pressing a cool compress to her forehead. She exhaled heavily, eyes feeling baggy and tired. Closing her eyes, Y/n listened to the soft melody of the man's voice floating throughout the room. Her neck still hurt, but felt as if something had been wrapped around it; she figured a bandage of some sort. Weakly lifting her hand, she could faintly see specks of dried blood from where she'd previously touched her neck.

That confirmed her suspicions. She'd passed out because of the injury. Either that, or the exhaustion.

The man beside her poked her cheek, gently and not unkindly. A low chuckle came above her.

"Took you long enough,"

Y/m smiled, a watery, poor affair. Turning her head a little more, and wincing at the pain in her nape, she locked eyes with him.

"What time is it?"

He hummed. "Around two am. You passed out for a couple hours. Looked like your body could do with the rest, so I didn't wake you up," he paused his ministrations, gazing at her again with that deep, intense, yet gentle stare. "Did you have somewhere to be?"

Y/n shook her head minutely, pushing herself upright into a sitting position. She felt weak and boneless.

"I should go home," her voice trailed off, exhausted.

He looked up, mildly confused. "Home? I don't think you'd even make it out the door."

Y/n groaned. "Enough with the sassy comments. I'm going. Thank you for taking care of me-"

He stood suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder. His gaze was almost fierce, stubborn, protective. Like an older brother.

"You're not going home like this. Let me drive you."

Y/n shook her head wildly, immediately regretting it. The throbbing in her head subsided as she pressed her palms to her temples.

"It's fine," attempting to stand, Y/n moved towards the door, shakily and slowly. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber bands.

The man watched her, unimpressed. Moving towards her, he offered his arm with a sigh.

"Just take it. I'll drive you home."

Exasperated, Y/n glared up at him. "I don't even know you. You could be a murderer."

He scoffed in return, rolling his eyes. "No murderer is this attractive. Look, just take my arm. You walked here, right? So that means you don't live far away-"

Y/n interrupted him, a little panicked at his observational skills. "How did you know I walked here?"

"I saw you earlier, before the race. No motorbike, or skateboard, or car. Looking around the arena like a little kid seeing a plane in the sky. Mouth open and everything."

At this, Y/n smacked him on the shoulder, scoffing at his comparison. He didn't even budge, Y/n's hit doing nothing to move him. He simply took her arm, a little more insistently, and steered her towards the door.

It took about five minutes of back and forth arguing and half-hearted bickering before Y/n finally allowed the racer to drive her home.

I haven't got much left to lose anyway, she thought glumly.

She was led to the back end of the arena, where a little dark hallway opened into the street by a creaky door. A narrow, dark, alleyway gaped at the left side of the street, and the man walked her towards it, making sure not to jostle her.

The night was dark and quiet, everything still and silent. The yellow glow of the streetlights cast abstract patterns of light onto the glistening road, soaked with rain. It must have poured down while she was blacked out. She could still hear the faint pumping of hip-hop music and the occasional rev of a car in the arena behind her.

The man led her into the alleyway, softly pointing out objects for her to move around, and kicking stray cans and rocks out of the way, lest she trip. He was surprisingly nice, considering the blunt comment he'd made about her racing earlier.

He led her to a Kawasaki motorbike, hidden behind a dumpster. It was beautiful, a sleek, dark vehicle with streaks of neon green highlighting the wheels and seat. He offered her a hand onto it and saddled himself onto the bike, revving the engine once. Y/n clung to the sides of the backseat, awkwardly hanging on. The racer took a helmet that had been concealed on top of an old AC unit and slipped it on, the big, dark shield masking his face. He flipped it up and turned to look at her questioningly.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

Y/n blinked.

He sighed. "Hold onto me. Otherwise you'll fall off and die."

Y/n rolled her eyes at his sarcastic comment. "It's fine, just drive."

She was met with a groan and another rev of the engine. He suddenly sped forward half a metre or so, then stopped suddenly. Y/n was thrown forward, crashing into his back. She gasped, arms flying to lock around his waist. She heard an amused chuckle and a click as the man flipped his face shield back down. Cheeks flushing rosy in her embarrassment, Y/n buried her face into his back, fisting the material of his dark shirtsleeves. She could feel the rush of seeping, intoxicating heat radiating into her from his back. Her arms instinctively tightened around him as he sped off.

The wind whooshed in her ears, whipping up her hair and causing a deafening rush of noise to settle around her as the motorbike sped into the night. Y/n tugged on the left side of his shirt, signalling him to go left. He picked up on it without a single hint of doubt or hesitation and Y/n fought a smile, eyes closed as she pressed her cheek into his back, and continued to tug on either the left or right side in order to direct him.

After about ten minutes of gentle tugging, the man pulled up in front of Y/n's apartment complex. The sky was beginning to lighten a little, though the deep glow of twilight still hung over the sky like a blanket.

Y/n awkwardly slipped off the motorbike, stumbling as she dismounted. The racer offered her his hand, but she'd already gotten off the bike. It hovered in the air, unsure, before dropping back to his side, pulling at the fabric of his leather pants, and then travelled back to the handlebars, gripping them tightly. He then turned to her, flipping his shield up, then pausing before taking it off entirely. His hair fell in a mussed mess around his forehead, slightly fluffy. Somehow, Y/n liked it better that way. It looked more raw, more real.

More perfect.

When he spoke, it was quiet. Quiet but gentle, but loud enough to float around the both of them, ringing in the early morning. He cleared his throat hesitantly, as if Y/n was an animal he was trying not to spook.

"I- uh, I wasn't planning to murder you, if that's what you're worried about..."

Y/n laughed unexpectedly at the statement; the sound rung out loud and clear, lighting up the sky. It felt glorious to be defying the silence that hung in the atmosphere, thick as fog on a stormy day. Like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"Good to know," she giggled. "Um, thanks for the ride."

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, hand fiddling with the edge of the Kawasaki's windshield. The sleek, black helmet was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

Y/n turned to go, before pausing suddenly. Spinning on her heel, she thoughtfully looked at the man. He hadn't moved, simply watching her. Waiting. But it wasn't threatening or ominous in the least. It was protective, reliable. Like he was frozen, his dark, pretty eyes fixed on her own.

Y/n's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I never got your name..."

The man smiled. Pushed his fringe out of his eyes, readjusted the helmet under his arm. The dawning light behind him illuminated his outline, all sharp, sleek angles and edges. He chuckled lightly, more airy, light exhale than sound.

"Minho."

a/n: likes, comments, reblogs appreciated !