Lotion - Seo Changbin

the fast lane : part 5 (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, angst, chan isn't as much of a dick (yayyy), jisung is the best, lots of vroom vrooming, not proofread, brief mentions of injury, tiny bit suggestive if you squint, that's it i think 3.6 k wc

series masterlist

part 5 : white knight and black knight

"You ready?" Jisung asked.

Y/n nodded shakily, adjusting her leather jacket. The material felt foreign, unusually smooth and uncomfortable against her skin. Jisung had kindly lent it to her, since she didn't have a racing jacket of her own yet, and not for the first time, Y/n was truly grateful for his amiable nature and quick smile.

He was just so easy to be friends with.

Y/n had only spent several days in Jisung's company as he'd helped train her, but by the time Saturday's race came around, she felt as if she'd known him for years. It was a pleasant feeling, to have someone who was so willingly kind to her after experiencing Chan's confusing attitude towards her, and the other racers' nonchalance and ignorance of her presence entirely. Minho's absence still bitterly tugged at Y/n's heartstrings, but with Jisung's constant chattering, grinning, and spontaneous antics, the sadness and longing began to slowly fade away, and Y/n surprisingly found herself enjoying herself in and out of the arena for the first time since Minho's impromptu training sessions.

Jisung nudged her shoulder suddenly, chuckling as she blinked, having been so lost in her thoughts that she'd forgotten where she was. "You'll be fine, Y/n."

Y/n exhaled, nodding, glad that he'd mistaken her quietness for nerves. She liked Jisung, but being a naturally suspicious person, she was finding it truly difficult to open up and tell him things that might have come easy to someone else. She understood now, why Chan acted the way he did, how he might have been feeling the same way as she did, not knowing who to trust or open up to.

Y/n was surprised she currently even had the capacity to hear herself think. The arena was bright and bustling, trails of car exhaust smoke rising in wisping plumes against the night sky. The floodlights were slightly dimmed, their usual blinding, white glare toned down by the hundreds of coloured light bulbs threading through the grandstands, giving the arena and racetrack a garishly dramatic, multi-coloured aura of reds, pinks, blues, and yellows. The cars racing in the next heat were already lined up, decorated in flashy stripes and sheens of neon colours that made Y/n's head spin if she looked for too long. Minho's car, her car now, was there too, the neon green and chrome black cast sending a jolting, bittersweet pang through her heart. Jisung's neon red and candy-pink Mustang was positioned directly behind hers.

Someone brushed past her shoulder suddenly, smelling woodsy and spicy. Y/n knew that scent now.

Chan moved past her, walking into the crowds towards his car as if she'd conjured him there out of her thoughts. She hadn't seen him around much since their shared breakdown in the tuning shop, but she was relieved to at least see that he was okay. Yn subconsciously realised she'd been coming around to him, albeit extremely slowly and warily.

Not to say she had forgiven him for what he'd done to Minho.

Y/n considered going after him suddenly, feeling a strange urge to reconnect with him the way they'd done in the garage. But she knew in her heart Chan wouldn't want to talk about it, especially since he'd been crying. She had a feeling most of the racers here weren't really into shows of affection or vulnerability unless it was shoving their tongues down the throats of the grid girls, who were currently swarming flirtatiously around a blonde-haired racer clad in jet black and blue.

Not that there was any time to reconnect with Chan anyway.

Jisung clapped her on the back, giving her a final, million-watt smile before disappearing behind her to enter his own car in the lineup. Y/n took a shaky breath and opened the car door of her own, sliding smoothly into the driver's seat. Her fingers found their place on the wheel, the cool leather sending an involuntary shiver up her spine. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to focus. Opening them again, trying to clear her head, Y/n glanced in her rearview mirror, noticing Jisung making his final adjustments in his seat. Y/n fought a tiny, fond laugh as he hit his elbow on the window frame, his lean top half temporarily disappearing as he keeled over dramatically at the pain.

Dragging her eyes away from her friend, Y/n glanced across to her left, noticing Chan clenching the wheel of his own car next to her. His sleek, dark Corvette was polished to an effortless shine, the red streamlining catching the multi-coloured lights sprinkled around the racetrack. He was wearing the exact same black and red racing suit he'd worn when she'd first ran into him, and Y/n cringed at the memory, remembering how she'd fallen straight onto her ass afterwards. She was also convinced that Chan probably slept in his racing suit at this point. She was about to smile at the thought, turning to look at him, when she realised he looked a lot more focused than usual.

No, not focused.

Tense.

Like he was worried about something.

Every single muscle was rigid and stiff. He kept shifting in his seat, his usual bravado disappearing completely as he fretted silently to himself, frowning every now and then. Y/n hastily redirected her gaze as Chan's eyes caught hers, her heart thudding at the unexpected glance.

A grating rev from her other side made Y/n jolt. Glaring at the racer to her left, Y/n's jaw dropped a little as she realised the racer who had been flirting with the grid girls was staring directly at her. Her glare disappeared as quickly as it had come, a sudden shyness and sense of inferiority crashing over her being. His car must have been the most expensive one on the track. The McLaren P1's sleek, deep blue body was decorated with vibrant, sky blue lightning strikes detailed in black and white. It was truly stunning.

So is the racer inside it, Y/n thought.

She promptly realised she'd been staring at the blonde-haired racer for some time now. He was doing the same, his dark, almost boyishly pretty eyes boring into Y/n's with an intensity that made her want to shrink into oblivion. His face was freckled, the blonde strands falling down over his forehead and nape in messy, loosely clustered strands. She could faintly see his roots growing out, the colour beneath the harsh dye a pleasant, dark, chocolatey brown.

Y/n watched, stupefied, as the racer smirked, a strand of pretty blonde hair falling into his face. He shook his head a little, shaking it out of the way, before cocking a confident eyebrow at her and smirking again, his tongue darting out to briefly touch his teeth. Heat flooded Y/n's cheeks at the expression, though she knew he was mocking her, nonverbally telling her to stay out of the way.

Out of his way, most likely.

She watched as he threw his head back and laughed, though she couldn't hear it from her car. It didn't seem like the friendly type of laugh, either. More derisive and taunting. Y/n's hands clenched involuntarily on the wheel and she looked straight ahead, trying to redirect her moral compass, and focus.

This would have been so much easier if Minho was here, she thought desperately. She leant forward a little and watched with hawk-like eyes as a grid girl sashayed onto the track, holding a single, black-and-white checkered flag. Y/n's heart thudded as she watched the girl raise the flag. Y/n glanced at Chan one more time before the flag dropped.

The instant the green signal flared, they were off.

Tires screeched against asphalt as the cars launched forward, engines roaring. The blonde-haired racer's car had already disappeared round a turn as soon as the signal flare had launched, and Y/n sputtered, faltering momentarily.

How had he gotten there so fast?

Recollecting herself, Y/n's heart leapt into her throat as she slammed her foot on the gas. The adrenaline surged through her veins as the world around her blurred, the car's momentum throwing her against the seat. Jisung's car sped past her, stuck in the middle between Chan's car and her own, but she strangely found she didn't mind. Jisung seemed to have enough skill to hold his own, and Y/n was far more focused and preoccupied on beating two particular cars.

Chan’s car surged ahead at first, taking an early lead like Y/n had always seen him do, with smooth confidence and practiced ease. Y/n glanced at her rearview mirror; she could already see the blonde racer's car coming up behind her. He was so incredibly fast that Y/n put him out of her mind, instead focusing on Chan's car beside her.

Forget about the hot blonde guy, she thought. I just have to place, and beat Chan.

Chan's car was faster, smoother, and Y/n could tell that he knew the track like the back of his hand. But Y/n stayed focused, her knuckles white against the wheel, refusing to be intimidated. She could feel the power beneath her, every turn and shift of the road pushing her to test her limits, and go beyond. She gritted her teeth and wrenched the wheel, eyes laser-focused on the track ahead and the cars vying to overtake her.

The cars whipped around tight corners, engines screaming, sparks flying as their bumpers almost brushed. Y/n inched closer, narrowing the gap between her car and Chan's. Her eyes flicked to the speedometer—she was pushing her car harder than ever.

Y/n saw Chan’s engine suddenly sputter, and his car jerking violently. The reckless revving dropped, and the smooth power that was seconds ago relied on faltered. His car slowed, losing speed, and within seconds, it was clear—his car was stalling.

Y/n's eyes instinctively flickered back and forth between the track ahead and Chan's car, now dropping behind her. She could see him beat his fist against the wheel, his expression wild and glaring. Her heart hammered against her chest as she grit her teeth, wondering if she should slow down. But regaining her rationality, she cast Chan one last glance and sped past, right behind Jisung and the blonde racer. Steeling her focus, she looked ahead at the finish line, the grid girl now standing on the side of the track, waving the checkered flag.

Her hands tightened on the wheel. This is it.

The finish line was in sight, the wind whipping past her, the crowd roaring as they saw her take the lead, directly behind the blonde. She sped ahead, leaving Chan and his stalling car behind.

Seconds later, Y/n crossed the line, the rush of her first placing victory flooding through her veins. She slammed on the brakes, coming to a hard stop, her heart pounding, barely believing what had just happened.

She turned the engine off and with clammy hands, opened the door, stumbling out. Her ankles and wrists ached with the exertion and her fingers hurt, like they had been molded to the steering wheel. She made a mental note to buy gloves and loosen her grip next time.

The thought flew out of Y/n's head as a large, lean figure tackled her in a hug, her hearing muffling temporarily along with the roars from the crowd. Jisung lifted her above the ground, his hair slick with sweat, eyes crinkled as he laughed. He shrieked, jumping up and down on the spot, Y/n jolting in his arms.

"You did it!" he cheered. "Even beat me and Chan. How's that for a proper race, uh?"

Y/n smiled, letting out a tentative, wheezy laugh, struggling in his grip.

"Thank you, Jisung, but I can't breathe-"

"Oh! Oh, sorry, sorry," he placed her back on the ground, readjusting the jacket from where he'd disheveled it. He grinned at her, running a gloved hand through his hair. The haphazardly neon, overexcited crowd bustled around them, jostling and shouting. "Better?"

Y/n nodded, relieved, just as she spotted a head of messy blonde hair. Peeking behind her friend, she noticed the blonde racer pushing and brushing his way through the crowd. She blurted out a half-hearted excuse to Jisung and disappeared into the mess of people, trying to keep him in her sight.

Finally making her way through to the other side of the crowd, Y/n inhaled in a much-needed breath of cold, slightly smoky air, and glanced around hastily, her eyes settling on the racer. He was a little way away, talking to a slim, well-dressed man with a stern face. Y/n stumbled past a crowd of flamboyantly dressed young women and came up beside him, panting slightly. The well-dressed man disappeared with a glance at her, just as the blonde racer turned to face her. Y/n's breath escaped her lungs in a low whoosh.

He was beautiful.

Stuttering slightly, and feeling like a common peasant in the presence of someone so ethereally charming, Y/n found she had temporarily lost the capacity for speech. Her words finally came out in a rather pathetic, stumbling mess of fragments.

"U-um, I just- wanted to say, that-"

The racer raised an eyebrow, his expression not unfriendly nor open. More... mildly irritated and hesitantly curious at the same time. Y/n was convinced she couldn't have pulled off the expression if she tried.

His voice broke through the charged, slightly smoky atmosphere, the tone and pitch of it deep and thick and smooth like honey.

"Yes?"

Y/n's knees almost buckled. His voice was rich and accented, like Chan's but just a little bit more so. Y/n noticed his freckles again, spotting the bridge of his nose and cheeks, his eyes veiled by long, dark lashes. There was a slighter larger freckle on the smooth curve of his cheekbone, shaped a little like a heart. She fought the sudden urge to smile at the cuteness of it and awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Um, congratulations. For winning the race."

Her words came out more composed than before. Y/n silently congratulated herself on being able to form a singular coherent sentence in front of this ethereal supermodel of a human being.

"Thank you."

Y/n fidgeted, unsure of what to do. She intertwined her fingers, trying not to make things awkward. The supermodel racer simply stared at her, tilting his head slightly, before reaching out and tugging lightly on the collar of her borrowed jacket. A jolt of fire seared through Y/n at the touch, though he had made no contact with her skin. Like a static shock.

"Stealing Jisung's things, hmm?"

Y/n stuttered. "He let me me borrow it. Uhm, for the race."

"I see. Congratulations to you too. Much better since your last try."

Y/n almost choked on her saliva, the humiliating memory of her first race resurfacing in her mind. Had he been watching her?

All this time?

The racer seemed to notice her assumption, because his eyes widened infinitesimally, his hands clenching into fists. Seemingly irritated, he huffed out a breath that felt more forced than genuine.

Must be to keep up an image, Y/n thought ruefully to herself. I bet he's a softie under all of it. Like Chan. I think.

The blonde's thick, velvety voice floated through the air to her again, this time tinted in clarity and begrudging respect.

"Don't get cocky, rookie."

"Okay."

The racer simply nodded, apparently deeming the conversation finished, and brushed past her into the crowd.

Y/n watched him go.

☆★☆

The crowd was like a human barrier; Y/n was pushing and stumbling her way through, trying to get back to Jisung. Suddenly turning around, she ran directly into someone, almost falling over backwards. Panic set in her chest as she stumbled, the jostling crowd around her doing nothing to help her regain her bearings or balance.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, bracing, just as a pair of strong arms coiled around her waist, warm and stable. Her feet caught themselves on the asphalt, and one foot hovered unsurely just above the ground. Y/n looked up at Chan.

He smiled ruefully. "Should have caught you the first time, uh?"

Y/n's heart dropped out from her ribcage, down her legs, and out of her ass. She flushed suddenly at the feeling of his arms around her waist, cheeks tingling with fire.

"Thanks," she managed to get out as Chan pulled her fully upright. He released his hold on her and Y/n's body almost followed him like a magnet, already feeling cold without his touch. A sense of bittersweet disappointment filled her stomach. She blinked, hard, before looking up at him, unsure of what to say. Was he upset he'd lost?

"Um, your car-"

"Don't worry about it," Chan's expression was unreadable.

Such a carefully constructed mask, Y/n thought. A lot like Minho's.

But where Minho's mask was gold and ivory, Chan's was silver and obsidian.

Opposites.

In every way, it seemed. Black and white. Light and dark. Like two knights from opposing kingdoms, standing for completely different things.

White knight and black knight.

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, opening her mouth to speak. Chan beat her to it.

"I'm sorry."

What?

Y/n's dumbfounded expression must have betrayed her surprise, because Chan rolled his eyes, tapping his foot on the asphalt. He huffed, seemingly trying to steel himself, or keep his irritation in check. Knowing Chan as little as she did, she went ahead and assumed it was probably the latter.

"Just- I'm sorry. That I shouted at Minho in front of you, that I left the tuning shop so suddenly. I didn't mean to get so sentimental, just- memories, y'know?"

Y/n blinked, her capacity for speech returning from its brief holiday.

"Oh. Um- it's okay."

Chan blinked back at her, expression mildly surprised. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, disbelieving. It was clear he hadn't been expecting to be forgiven.

"I thought you'd be pissed."

Y/n shrugged. "I was, but I let it go after a while. I forgive you. You know, if that's what you want to hear."

Chan's mouth formed a small, 'o' and Y/n's cheeks puffed up, trying to hold back a laugh.

"You look like a pufferfish," she snickered.

Chan flushed a light pink across his cheekbones and tutted once at her before hastily running a hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair. Now that he was standing a little closer, Y/n could see the light bruising around his right eye showing through. She could see the light, careful smoothing of concealer over the sweat-sheened area and bit the inside of her cheek. A tiny patch of purple and green bloomed in faint patches at the corner of his eye, and to Y/n, it looked like it'd gotten worse since the last time they'd seen each other. Se glanced up at the racer, suddenly concerned, but decided not to say anything.

Chan suddenly opened his mouth to retort to her comment and was immediately tackled by a tornado with dirty blonde hair and a mesh shirt. He let out an oof and stumbled back a few steps, freezing as Jisung joyfully squeezed him around the middle. Chan exhaled before hesitantly patting Jisung on the back. Y/n chuckled.

"Y/n beat you," Jisung's voice was muffled, though it contained no small amount of glee.

Chan groaned. "Well spotted. Uh- you can let go now."

Jisung lifted his head from where it was buried in Chan's shoulder, and reluctantly let go, cheeks puffing out in a pout.

Y/n chuckled at her friend's antics and glanced at Chan. The crowd around her was beginning to feel suffocating.

"Let's go sit down."

☆★☆

Chan groaned as Jisung snatched his drink for the fourth time, laughing.

Y/n had dragged the both of them up into the bleachers, where they could watch the entire event without being crowded. The neon flashing lights and the screeching of the cars had dimmed, as if someone had draped a blanket over it, dulling the lights and colours and noises.

She dragged her gaze away from the arena below and turned her gaze to Jisung. He was busy scarfing down the rest of Chan's drink. Tossing it into a nearby bin, he turned to her with a cheeky grin. Chan groaned and shoved him lightly, displeased with the theft of his refreshment, sending Jisung into a fit of laughter.

Looking down at the arena again, Y/n replayed the events of the night. The blonde haired racer popped into her mind, and she turned to Jisung suddenly, curious.

"Jisung?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you, um- there's this blonde haired racer, he was next to me in the lineup. Do you maybe know who he is? He had the McLaren with the lightning strikes on it."

Jisung nodded thoughtfully. Chan was preoccupied, running calloused fingertips over the thick silver chain on his wrist. He looked up in interest just as Jisung spoke.

"Blonde hair, McLaren, lightning strikes... sounds like someone we know, huh, Chan?"

Chan rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. The night breeze blew his dark hair black, the wind running its cool fingers through the sweat-dried locks.

"Oh, we know him all right."

Jisung grinned cheekily, chuckling. "Chan hates him because he's a better racer."

"I do not. And he's not that good."

"Mhm, totally..."

"Oh, shut up, Jisung."

The younger boy laughed, holding up his hands in defence, leaning away from Chan. The shit-eating grin on Jisung's face was wiped away by a swift, sharp slap to the upside of his head. He groaned and flopped dramatically to the arena floor. Y/n, meanwhile, just blinked softly, unbothered by their antics.

"What's his name?" she asked inquisitively.

Chan huffed, stretching out his long legs in front of him before propping them up on the seat in front. His voice was gravelly.

"Lee Felix."

a/n: i planned to post this a month ago but oops. also felix introduction yay !

lonely st. ✧ chapter ii : the first glimpse

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: lonely reader, school!au, hyunjin gets a minor injury ft. concerned basketballers jisung and felix, awkward y/n

a/n: i had so much fun writing jisung's dialogue, he is truly best friend goals

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Hyunjin leaned against the lockers, his long, lean frame sagging onto the slightly dented metal surface. Early morning sunlight filtered in through the school windows. He held a basketball in his hands and was turning it thoughtfully, lost in his own mind.

"-and then she said to me, like, all whiny, Jisung, you can't eat that, I need it for my science dissection- Yah. YAH. Hyunjin! Have you even been listening to my story?"

Hyunjin's head snapped up, wide, unfocused eyes meeting his friend's. He shook his head lightly.

Jisung groaned, slamming his locker door shut and snatching the basketball from Hyunjin. He tossed it up in the air a couple times and made to fake-pass it to his friend.

Hyunjin flinched, his hands coming up unsurely.

"Man, you're really out of it," Jisung said in half-concern, half-wonder. "You never fall for the fake-pass thing. What's up?"

Hyunjin sighed, shaking his head. "I- um, just haven't been sleeping that well lately. It's fine."

Jisung scoffed as they both began to walk to their morning basketball practice. He absentmindedly tossed the ball up in the air, catching it with a smooth, practiced ease.

"Nice try, dude. You sleep like a dead log. Come on, just tell me."

Hyunjin sighed, for once feeling a little irritated towards his best friend and his unusually perceptive nature. But he shoved it down without a second thought.

He's only trying to help.

"I, um- there's this girl," he began unsurely.

Jisung let out a highly overexaggerated gasp, his breath catching in his throat. He dropped the basketball and doubled over, thumping his chest. Sighing and patting Jisung's back firmly, Hyunjin jogged to pick the ball up.

Jisung stood up, gasping as he cleared his throat loudly. He was grinning ear to ear, a sly smirk twinging at the corners of his mouth.

"Ohhh, I see. No, no, I get it. A girl," he drew the last word out, smirking at his friend.

Normally, Hyunjin would have shoved him playfully, teasing and laughing. But his face didn't betray even the slightest hint of a smile. He just couldn't feel cheerful if he tried, too buried in his thoughts to do anything but the smallest and most necessary of movements.

Jisung tilted his head at him, looking genuinely worried. Hyunjin was staring at the floor, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought. Or distress. Or in mad, uncontrollable love.

Or all three, Jisung thought.

"Hyunjin, do you think Coach will split us into training teams for the championship rounds? Because he did that last time, and I got stuck with your idiot friend here."

Jisung whined, tossing a half-empty can of deodorant at Felix, who caught it effortlessly.

"I'm not that bad," Jisung huffed. Felix just rolled his eyes, turning back to his changing locker with a subtle mutter of 'yes you are'.

The locker room was unusually quiet; most likely due to the early hour. No sane teenage boy wanted to be at school this early, and not for basketball practice at the very least either. Not that Hyunjin noticed, still lost in his thoughts.

Felix tugged his shirt off tiredly, digging through his bag for his jersey and shorts. He moved next to Jisung, picking up his clothes where he'd left them lying on the bench. Slipping his jersey on with a disgruntled huff, he leant in to whisper discreetly to his friend.

"Is Hyunjin okay? He's been standing like that for, like, fifteen minutes."

True to Felix's word, Hyunjin had been standing at his changing locker for a while. His usual white shirt was half tugged off, his jersey hanging limply from his hands. He was staring down dimly into his bag, where unbeknownst to his friends, he'd hidden Y/n's pen.

"I don't know," Jisung whispered back. "He's been like that all morning."

Felix's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Do you know what happened?"

Jisung sighed, slipping his own jersey on. "Some girl. I don't know. But he's been super down for some reason."

Felix's voice was low and conspiratorial. "Do you think he got dumped by some chick?"

Jisung shook his head. "Nah, I would have known. He won't talk much, though, so I just left him to it, I guess."

"Maybe he just needs time."

Jisung nodded somberly. He watched as the other boys filtered out of the locker room in yawning, hair-ruffled groups to the indoor courts.

Felix glanced at Hyunjin sympathetically before shrugging and moving away.

"Come on, boys, pick up those feet! Felix, Changbin is open, pass, pass! Like that!"

The squeaking of shoes against the polished courts and the thud of the basketball bouncing were the only sounds in the spacious, sunny gym.

Jisung wiped his sweaty forehead, tossing the ball back to Changbin as they weaved their way down the courts. They'd been playing a lot of practice games lately in preparation for the upcoming schools' championship. Glancing back at Hyunjin, who was still dragging his feet and definitely not on his usual game, Jisung sighed before running to catch up and defend his team member, who was attempting to shoot.

Hyunjin looked up just as the ball flew towards him; he caught it reflexively and began dribbling down the court. Felix, who was on the other team, made to snatch it; Hyunjin stepped back just as Felix stepped forward.

Making to dribble around his friend, Hyunjin dodged to the left, his foot catching, and fell to the floor with a sickening thud, the air whooshing unpleasantly out of his lungs.

Felix knelt down immediately, asking if he was okay, and Jisung jogged over just as Hyunjin rolled over, heaving. Felix gasped. Struggling to his hands and knees, he let his friends pull him upright. Coach blew his whistle, brows furrowing in concern, eyes zeroing in on his star player's face.

"Hyunjin! Take five. And go wash your face."

Groaning, he dragged himself off the courts and to the side, sitting down heavily on the bench. Pressing a hand to his stomach, he fought the urge to shout in frustration.

Jisung and Felix glanced at each other worriedly before resuming the game.

Hyunjin couldn't stand it anymore. Getting up with a huff, he muttered something about getting a drink and headed out of the gym, pushing the double doors shut behind himself. He wandered down the corridor, trying to ignore the slight throb in his chest. He'd fallen a lot harder than expected.

A sudden thud to his left made him look across into the opposite connecting corridor. He slipped back just in time, peeking into the hallway.

Y/n was on her hands and knees, trying to gather a stack of books, which had been scattered across the floor. Hyunjin wondered if she'd fallen over, or tripped maybe.

A group of girls from their grade were walking past, giggling and chatting about the latest whatever. Hyunjin's hands tightened on the wall just as they pointedly looked away from Y/n as they passed by, who had looked up for help.

Hyunjin stepped back into the corridor just as the girls disappeared down the hallway. Checking that they were gone, he began walking as casually as possible down the hallway, kneeling in front of Y/n. He picked up one of her books, a sleek, dark sketchpad.

"Hi," he said cautiously.

Y/n glanced at him warily before taking the sketchpad from Hyunjin's hand. She gathered the rest of her belongings and stood up, her eyes flitting to him, still kneeling.

"You're bleeding," she said hesitantly, quietly. Then she turned and walked away.

Hyunjin pressed a hand to his cheek, his fingertips coming away lightly stained in red.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, a pencil flicking between her fingertips. Scribbling down a few notes in her notebook, she set the pencil down and picked up her novel, flipping to the latest page. She smoothed out the folded corner before settling down to read.

The library was pretty much empty at lunchtimes; hardly anyone came in besides the few senior students looking for study references. Y/n thought it rather a shame; it was a lovely place, all tall, dark shelves and little hidden corners to read in. Sunlight filtered in through the arched glass windows and drew patterns across the long, polished tables.

At the same time, she was grateful; it was both a blessing and a curse that she had the opportunity to be alone. She liked being in the library, spending her spare time delving into books and sketching little drawings in her pad.

No distractions, no drama, no friends, no company.

Y/n had learned to accept the fact that she was a loner, a social outcast. Sure, she had a sort of friend group, with Sangmi, Ha-eun, Yeji, and Aeri, but they never really included her. They did try, Y/n supposed, but she never felt the spark of a social connection, never felt like she was truly part of the group.

And besides, Y/n reasoned, they always talked about things Y/n either didn't understand or wasn't a part of. The latest song release, their love lives, Sangmi's amazing achievements, the newest drama in their grade. They had all been friends since primary school, while Y/n had sort of become a pseudo-member only a couple years ago. She was a weird growth stemming off to the side, not a stranger but not exactly welcomed either.

At least, she felt like she was unwelcomed. Maybe it was just her head getting to her, but Y/n just couldn't shake the feeling of alienation. And it ate at her more and more every day. It was just easier to keep her head down and pretend like she didn't care. It was just so much easier to be alone, even if it hurt.

A sudden shuffling of footsteps halted her spiraling thoughts. Y/n hastily buried her face in her book.

Hyunjin sat down cautiously opposite her, sliding into the seat. He opened his notebook and began scribbling something.

Y/n blinked in surprise, the feeling quickly overtaken by half a scowl. Why was he always everywhere? The pen-borrowing in class, the falling over this morning, and now here. Speaking of, he still hadn't given her pen back. What did he want?

He's probably sitting with me out of curiosity or pity, Y/n thought. Or he thinks I'm trying to get his attention. Stupid, sporty boy.

Y/n huffed and slid further down in her chair, glaring over the rim of her book. Hyunjin hadn't looked up; he was quietly working on something, brows furrowed slightly in concentration. He wasn't disturbing her, or being pushy, just- sitting there.

But why here, of all places?

Y/n noticed the little cut across his cheekbone. He must have washed it out after she'd told him. She wondered what had happened; maybe he got hurt at basketball. After all, she knew he played, and he had been in his jersey when he'd moved to help her pick up her books.

He was dressed in his usual white shirt, the sleeves half rolled up his forearms. His dark tie was slightly loose under the grey sweater vest, which was a tad too big. Y/n grudgingly thought that the oversized style suited him much better anyway. He was missing his usual dark blazer.

Hesitantly, she set down her book, eyeing Hyunjin across the table. He didn't look up, still writing. Reaching into the front pocket of her bag, she pulled out a bandaid, a little cutesy chicken face detailed in yellow across it. She slid the paper-packaged item across the table to him.

"You shouldn't leave injuries uncovered, stupid," she said to him disapprovingly. "It'll get infected."

Hyunjin smiled at her warmly despite the quip, carefully undoing the adhesive strips and sticking the bandaid over the cut.

"Thanks. At least it's covered now."

Y/n nodded awkwardly, still half-glaring at him. She picked up her book, trying to focus.

"Do you always carry around bandaids?"

Y/n looked up at Hyunjin. "What?"

"You know," he gestured to her bag. "D'you keep a stash of them?"

She nodded.

"How come?" he said quietly, curiously. His face brightened suddenly. "Do you play sports too?"

Y/n scoffed. "No."

"Oh. Then why?"

"I- I just fall over a lot."

Hyunjin nodded, settling back into his chair with an effortless smile, effectively ending the small conversation.

She's lying through her teeth, he observed. Y/n never stutters.

"How's your little friend, Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder at Jisung behind him, who was leaning on the desk with one hand, head propped up. The worksheet they were supposed to be filling out in groups was blank under his forearms.

Hyunjin scoffed just as Jisung smirked. He leaned in so no one could overhear, the chatter in the classroom masking his low voice.

"Don't be like that," he said quietly. "It's not-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jisung's voice tilted to a whiny, high-pitched lilt. "It's not like that. Heard it before, dude. C'mon. You like her, right?"

Hyunjin scoffed. "No."

"You sure?"

"She just seems really alone, so I thought I'd sit with her."

Jisung's smirk dropped in realisation. "Oh."

They both glanced behind themselves to where Y/n sat in the corner by herself, diligently filling out the worksheet. It had been ten minutes and she was already almost done. As per usual.

Jisung winced. "Hyunjin, as your best friend, I say this from the bottom of my heart; you can do a lot better."

Hyunjin slapped his friend sharply upside the head. "I told you, it's not like that. It's not a crime to talk to someone who seems really lonely."

Jisung rubbed the back of his head, huffing. "Alright, sorry, sorry. It's just that she seems really intense."

Hyunjin tugged at his tie thoughtfully. "She's pretty upfront and honest, I guess, but not mean like most people think. You know how I fell over at practice this morning?"

Jisung nodded, straight faced. "It was a very graceful, elegant fall."

"Shut up. Anyway, I went to the library to finish my essay at lunchtime and I went to sit with her. She gave me this bandaid."

Jisung tilted his head, smiling slightly. "I was wondering who gave you that. Felix will be jealous. He loves chickens."

Hyunjin saddled a leg over his chair, crossing his arms and leaning on the back of it to face Jisung. A long, dark bang fell into his face and he pushed it back impatiently.

"She's really not that bad. And besides, maybe all she needs is a friend. It can't be easy being so alone all the time."

Jisung hummed, balancing his pen on a finger. "Maybe she wants to be alone."

Hyunjin went silent. Maybe she did. But he figured there was no harm in at least becoming an acquaintance.

"Yeah, maybe," he said quietly. "But she kept looking at me curiously when I sat with her in the library earlier. She seemed really surprised that I chose to sit with her. And like I said, she wasn't being mean, just- a little awkward. Like she wasn't sure what to do."

Jisung absentmindedly ripped off a corner of his worksheet. "I feel really bad for her, to be honest."

"Then help me become friends with her."

Jisung spluttered, tossing the ripped corner off the side of the desk. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, picking the scrap up and shoving it into his friend's hand.

"Don't litter. Anyway, maybe she could do with some company."

"You have no clue about what kind of person she is, Hyunjin. Maybe she's just going through something."

"Sung, come on. How would you feel if everyone at school ignored you and you were a complete loner?"

"Well, first of all, I am a totally sick person, so that would never even happen in the first place-"

"Jisung."

"Oh, okay, fine," he threw his hands up. "Just keep talking to her and being nice and whatnot. See if she opens up or starts talking. Step up. I'm just worried about you getting caught up in something you don't understand."

Hyunjin shook his head vehemently. "I won't get caught up in anything. I promise."

Jisung huffed, twirling his pen. "Yeah, okay, we'll see. Now, let me copy your worksheet answers. I've already had five detentions this week."

taglist (open) : @kozumesphone

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

awww my love :( i'm so glad it helped at least a little bit. don't worry, even just waking up and eating something is a big accomplishment, so be proud of yourself for everything so far . . . it does get better, i promise, and you'll be okay. i'll be here until you are <3

do you wanna talk about it?

Your fic about safe is so amazing I'm inlove with it?? Could you do a similar one but with daddy issues like you're dating Han or Chris (idm which you pick) and you sometimes worry he'll leave you + Ur own issues, tw? Bipolar and depression? Whatever makes you comfortable to do at least

aha thank you so much ! i just titled this one 'depressed reader' but all of the main details are in the descriptions below >< also i couldn't decide between writing chan or han so i just kind of wrote both lol . . . hopefully this one brings you some comfort too, anon <3

hold me - bang chan x depressed!reader

pairing: bang chan x depressed!reader

summary: watching chan with one of his members makes everything you've felt lately rise to the surface.

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort at the end, depression, hinting to bipolar disorder, heavy descriptions of relationship issues (i made it sort of vague so it applies to a lot of scenarios), descriptions of ed, deprecating and negative thoughts, breakdowns, attachment issues, chan is the sweetest most understanding person in the whole world, jisung is mentioned multiple times in this fic

a/n: sending love to all my readers ! you are all soso appreciated <3. divider from @ianrkives

You hesitantly open the door to the studio after knocking twice. When there's no reply, you quickly step inside and blink. The room is pretty much dark, the only source of light coming from a dim standing lamp in the corner.

Chan is seated at his desk, hunched over the soundboard, with a pair of headphones clasping either side of his head. You can barely see him in the dark, only his face, hands, and the column of his throat visible out of the baggy black clothes he always likes to wear.

He doesn't look up as you enter and then quietly shut the door, too focused on the wavy, lilting lines and sequences of the song production software in front of him. You sigh softly and walk up to him, coming from the side so you don't startle him. Placing your bag down on the small table before the sofa, you place a couple of hesitant fingers on the arm of his chair.

"Channie?" You say quietly.

He's still squinting at the screen, somehow so focused he doesn't even see you right next to him. Or maybe it's the light from the screen; when you stare at a device for so long in the dark, it gets difficult to see anything else.

But he suddenly seems to sense your movement, and he must have realised it was you, because he wraps an arm around your waist and gently pulls you closer.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the screen. His gaze is focused and almost intense as he scrutinizes every soundbar and beat of the music. You bite your lip.

You begin to worry a little then; have you disturbed him from his work? Maybe you shouldn't have come, or at least sent him a text telling him you were coming to the company studio. Maybe he would be more comfortable if you just left him alone.

Before your thoughts can descend on your head like a static black cloud, Chan finally slips off his headphones, leaning back in his chair with a heavy exhale. His arm is still around your waist and so he tugs you with him a little bit, eyes roaming over your face as he stretches.

"Sorry," he says, sighing contentedly as his back pops a little. "Got so caught up, didn't realise I'd be here so late."

"It's okay," you say quietly. "I figured."

Chan catches the hint of sadness creeping into your tone and he pulls you onto his lap, coiling strong arms around your torso. His unruly, ruffled curls tickle the naps of your neck and you squirm, letting out an involuntary giggle. Though the sound is happy, it immediately fills you with a creeping feeling of disgust, and you reproachfully close your mouth.

Chan doesn't seem to notice; he seems rather content to just keep you on his lap. He's absentmindedly singing something, and you stand up off of his lap suddenly, brushing yourself off. For some unknown reason, you begin to feel a bit embarrassed, like you used to feel around Chan when you didn't know him too well.

The man in question sits up a little straighter in his chair, smiling at you. "How was your day, baby?"

"Good," you say a little curtly. You're not sure where the tone is coming from, and you shove the feeling down before you can say something in a way you'd regret.

Chan hums thoughtfully and pokes you lightly in the stomach. "Just good, hmm? Usually I'd get a lot more than that... are you okay?"

"Yes," you say quietly, even though you feel anything but. You're grateful for the darkness then, because it means Chan can't see the tears beginning to prickly hotly at the corners of your eyes. You keep your voice strong and fight the urge to sniffle so as not to alert him. "Just had a long day. You?"

Saying those sentences almost makes you break.

Chan can never know what it's like; how it feels to be brushed off and ignored and attacked by someone who is supposed to love you. To feel like you don't really matter, or that your thoughts and ideas and dreams are just that; useless, empty words inside your head. And to be constantly reminded of how little your worth is, to the point where you're not sure what love is, or what it looks like.

Chan will never understand; he had a completely normal childhood, with a completely normal family and upbringing, and he's normal. Normal in the way that he has people to turn to, people who love and support him, and he's normal in the way that he doesn't scrutinize his own actions every single second of every single day.

And he will never know what it's like to be struggling with something to the point where it all just builds up inside your head like a messy pile of bricks. Where it all weighs down heavy on your mood and sends clouds of dust into the air, distorting and warping your emotions.

So far you've been able to control your mood swings around him; you'd succeeded in making Chan think that you're a person who likes to sleep a lot. In reality you just lie down and keep your eyes and mouth shut so you don't end up acting hypomanic or have outbursts at him. At least it's working; you would much rather keep it all inside than bare the most vulnerable parts of yourself to someone who might decide to turn away and leave you because of it.

You've learnt that keeping those thoughts and emotions inside is better, because then at least people stay. For some time, anyway. Lately you've been feeling like you're biding your time, waiting until the day where Chan finds out everything and decides to do what's best for himself.

When he decides to leave you.

"...And then Han decided he was going to try and do his makeup himself all of a sudden, and of course it was a whole mess. I had to clean sparkly highlighter out of his mouth. I mean, how does that even happen?"

You blink. Chan has been talking this whole time while you've been zoned out of your mind, pitifully burying yourself in your struggles. You climb out of the pit but for a moment and nod along, though he still can't see you because of the dark. You hope that he's just been talking about Han the whole time and not anything else, because if you missed something, Chan will definitely know something's wrong. You inwardly curse yourself for making a habit out of replying to every event and topic that comes out of Chan's mouth.

"Does he not know you guys have perfectly good stylists for that?" You murmur, carding a hand through his fluffy hair.

He sighs exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "Apparently not."

You feel the slightest hint of mirth warming your heart as you notice the tips of Chan's rough, calloused fingers covered in the faintest hint of sparkles. But it quickly disappears, replaced by a cold, dead numbness that seems to encapsulate your whole being. Like icy water.

"Anyways," Chan stretches again, standing up. "How come you're here and not at home?"

Slightly taken aback at the blunt statement, you stutter a little. Chan's eyes go wide and he shakes his hands frantically in front of himself. "N-not like that! I'm glad you're here, it's just that it's really late and I thought you would be asleep by now..."

You blink at him, and then at the clock. He has a point; the white LEDs on the display read 1:43 am. Normally you'd be passed out in bed at this time.

"Couldn't sleep," you say. "I missed you."

And it's true. You did miss him. But suddenly you're looking straight through Chan to someone else and saying that last sentence to him instead. You clench your fists.

"Aww," Chan whines cutely, pulling you into a hug. "My baby. I missed you too. This new song track is killing me."

You pull back from the hug and kiss him on the cheek, partly because kissing Chan makes him go all red, and if you let him hug you any longer, you'll probably break down.

Chan does go red and you poke him lightly in the side, teasing gently. He chuckles and jerks away as you walk to the low table and pick up a bag. "I brought food."

"Oh, you're the best," Chan dives for the bag and eagerly digs through, clumsily kissing your cheek as he pulls the lid off one of the takeout containers. He sits down on the couch before pulling out a pair of chopsticks from the bag and heaping a mouthful of the food. He groans loudly. "This is so good."

"Tastes better after work, doesn't it?" You sit down next to him and lean back, looking at the ceiling. You cross your arms over your stomach to keep it quiet.

Chan nods eagerly and holds out his chopsticks. "Say ahh, Y/n."

You shake your head ruefully but Chan insists, moving closer. Relenting, you open your mouth and feel the warmth of the food against your tongue. It tastes so good, and for a second, you think about asking for more, but you realise that Chan needs it more. After all, he's been working all night.

Besides, if you ask for more of his food, he might think you're being greedy and look at you that certain way that someone else does.

In disgust.

You know in your heart that Chan would never do these sorts of things, but the doubt nags consistently at your consciousness, tugging your mood one way and then your emotions the next. The constant change between feelings is almost giving you whiplash and you exhale, closing your eyes and leaning back into the couch.

"Baby?"

"Mm," you say without opening your eyes.

"Is everything okay?" You hear him setting down his chopsticks, feel the tiny thud through the table as he sets the already-empty container down gently. Your heart drops to your stomach.

Keep it together. He doesn't know anything.

You sigh and sit up, your heartstrings twinging. "Just a lot to think about lately. Why?"

Chan nods, leaning back into the couch next to you. "It's just that you've been really quiet lately. I was wondering if something was going on..."

He ends his reply on a sort of question, like he's expecting you to open up to him about everything at once. You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. How could he possibly expect you to do something like that? And so easily too...

You inwardly scoff. Nice try. You're not getting anything out of me, Chan. Better you don't know anyway. I know you'll change your mind about me.

But your heart takes control of your mouth, and maybe it's the constant sense of longing you seem to have around Chan, but you want to open up to him. Tell him everything, about your terrible past and terrible experiences, and all you are because of it. And a sudden, lingering sense of hope makes you believe that even after you tell him all of it, he'll stay.

Even if it's just for a moment.

"I, um.. I just had an argument with someone," you say vaguely. And it's not entirely the truth. But it's not exactly a lie either. The words shouted at you earlier flash through your mind, white and hot and painful. Like a fresh cut, a harsh, swift slice too deep and sudden to process. Where, for a moment, there's nothing, until the blood starts filling the white gap and then spilling over, like a gruesome parody of tears.

Chan turns to face you on the couch. "Argument? About what?"

You shift a little uncomfortably. Now you have to tell him. "About- just whatever."

"It's not whatever, Y/n," he says firmly. "Not if it's making you this upset."

And maybe it's the sudden realisation that Chan is so normal, with his normal family and mind and life that you feel a raging pang of jealousy fill you up from your toes to your head. You huff and turn away.

"It's nothing," you grit your teeth, fighting not to spit venom.

Stop it, Y/n. It's not his fault.

Chan blinks in surprise at your slightly harsh response but doesn't push you any further. You don't look at him, but you hear him sigh and get up to toss the empty takeout container in the trash. Your heart sinks and you wait for him to turn around and chide you for being so rude and stubborn. After all, he was just trying to help.

But he doesn't. He sits back down on the couch, and looks up at the ceiling, so that you two are lying next to each other in the exact same position. He doesn't talk, either.

You both sit in deafening silence.

You're grateful when the door opens with a haphazard bang and Han walks in, clad in an oversized grey hoodie and sweats. He's clutching a notebook in his hands, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose. You know the story Chan told earlier was true because you can see smears of sparkly highlighter high on his cheekbones. He doesn't seem to be aware of the time, nor the dark state of the room, or the fact that you're so tense your shoulders feel like concrete.

You're grateful for the interruption until he walks over to Chan and promptly sits in his lap. Han murmurs a few lyrics to him, who seems unfazed by the sudden action, and questions about what he thinks could be changed with the song words. Chan replies quietly and his gaze flicks to you in the dimness of the room, but you just shrug, saying you don't mind.

But sitting there, watching Han sit so quietly and comfortably in Chan's lap makes your heart pang for some reason. He wasn't afraid, didn't ask if it was okay, just sat right down and made himself comfortable. Because you know for a fact Chan lets him do this.

And maybe it's the way Chan strokes an absentminded finger down Han's shoulder, or the way he speaks so softly, or the way it's so reminiscent of someone taking care of their child, but you find your eyes brimming with hot tears by the time Han gets up and leaves.

Chan turns to you, about to say something about the lyrics of the new track, but he stops short. A look of worry comes over his expression.

He scoots closer, placing a warm hand on your arm. "Baby? Are you okay?"

All you can do is shake your head, your eyes scrunching up as you fall into his arms. Chan holds you close, one hand cradling your head against his chest like you're the most precious thing in the whole world. Little do you know, to him, you are.

You sob. The reality of everything comes crashes down on you and all you can do is wail and hiccup into Chan's warm, solid chest. You expect him to push you away by the time the tears have soaked through his shirt, but he doesn't. He holds you close and rocks you gently, shushing you and cooing as he wipes hot, sticky streaks off your cheekbones.

You can't help but cry harder. Your eyes almost sting from how hard you've scrunched them up, and your hands ball in the back of Chan's hoodie like it's a lifeline. And it is. You feel that if you let go, you might fall and never return.

"I'm here," you hear Chan whispering through the mess. "I'm here."

Again and again he says it, and every time he does, your tears flow a little slower, and he keeps saying it until your breakdown has reduced itself to a fit of hiccups and messy sniffles. Still he doesn't push you away, or snap at you to get over it, or that your tears mean nothing. He just sits and holds you.

When you finally look up, Chan is smiling gently, reassuringly, though a little sadly. He sees the look in your eyes and knows you don't want to talk about it, so he sits and rocks you softly on his lap. You squeeze your eyes shut and heave in a rocky breath.

Please just keep holding me, you beg him silently. Just for a while.

And he does. And he doesn't let go, not even when you whimper into his shoulder and soak the juncture of his neck with your misery. He kisses the salty wetness away and strokes the pads of his fingers across your face, where the skin is red and sticky.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I'm sorry," you cry. "I can't get it all out of my head, and- it's too much, and I can't-"

"Shh, baby. I've got you, okay? Just breathe for me."

You heave in a few breaths and continue clinging to him. He feels so warm and safe. All you want is to be surrounded by him, to breathe him in, have him tell you that he loves you.

He must have read your mind, because he leans close to your ear and whispers firmly.

"I'm not leaving you, yeah? I'm gonna stay right here, hold you til you're better. You mean the world to me, hmm? Do you know that?"

You shake your head sadly.

"Now you do. I'm not going anywhere," he says with such conviction that you almost begin to believe it. He wraps his arms closer around you and kisses your forehead, whispering fiercely.

"I promise."

a/n: masterlist

hello. 😊 if it's not a bother, could i please request stray kids celebrating their 9th member’s birthday with her (please leave her age unspecified)? 🥰 no pressure, it's okay if you don't do this! 🤗

hiyoooo this was such a cute request . . . i didn't do a traditional fic bc i know everyone likes to celebrate differently >< i'm def more a lowkey type of person but i know others who like to go all out <3 here you goooo

skz and celebrating their 9th member's birthday

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader

summary: how skz would celebrate your birthday !

genre: fluff, idol! au, chaotic skz, reader celebrates their birthday, age left unspecified (though they're the youngest of the group), cute innie, big brother skz agenda all the way, mentions of forehead kisses, mentions of eating, mentions of chan's back pain

a/n: happy birthday to anyone who's celebrating lol

skz masterlist

so how skz celebrates your birthday definitely depends on whether you're a big, grand gesture sort of person or not

if you are

then expect half the company to be there at the party

or a big fancy event in one of the halls

lots and lots of singing and dancing, if your birthday happens to fall on a skz concert date, they'll definitely perform 'happy birthday' and sing one of your favourite songs

lots of gifts

i mean lots

they could be the most random things too

we all know how leeknow gifts things

so expect anything from a new nachimbong to a cucumber

skz would def be the type of people to surprise you at the dorms too, with a whole massive spread of food and sweets

felix would def be baking for you too

and there'd be a cake in your favourite colour with your name written on slightly messy icing on the top

when you look closer you notice your name is spelt wrong

jeongin excitedly points out that he wrote your name on the top and you kiss his forehead anyway in thanks

bc he's cute and you would never point out the fact that he spelt his only younger member's name wrong

oh well

you appreciate the gesture anyway

then it's gifts

most of them are good and you love them

but there's a select few that make you laugh

like a matching horse mask from jisung or a singular messed-up paintbrush from hyunjin

you keep them anyway for the memories

(and make a mental note to scare chan with the horse mask later, alongside jisung, who already has one of his own)

shhh !!

then it's opening the cards from each member

again, super cute messages from the members, aside from seungmin's card

he's just written in sparkly blue gel pen 'you survived another year'

'good job'

and that's it

slightly menacing but you thank him for it anyway, watching him grin as you place it down

and then it'd be a night out at the mall or the arcade

or anywhere you want to go

expect to be spoilt by your eight older brothers

they spare no expense to make you happy

whether you choose to take advantage of that or not is up to you

changbin or chan would def let you climb on their back as a once-off

and they'd carry you through the streets while you giggle in their ear

changbin doesn't even feel you

while chan is wishing he'd stretched his back earlier

you all end up falling asleep in a heap as soon as you guys get back to the dorms

no one has bothered to undress either so you all wake up looking like you did the night before

if you're not a grand gesture sort of person

or you just get a little shy on your birthday

skz will def be a little more lowkey

some of the members, especially the maknaes, don't really understand why you don't want to go all out for it

but they try to make you happy anyway

personally i feel like they wouldn't make too much of a fuss in fear of upsetting you

so you'd wake up as per normal and go to the kitchen

and minho has cooked breakfast for you

your fav obviously

and the other members just kind of go about their business and wish you a happy birthday

chan def stops to kiss the crown of your head bc you're like his little sibling and felix does the same

bc he's sweet like that

your day then goes as per normal

maybe with a lot less schedules and practices bc no one wants to do work on their birthday

unless you're super productive i guess

but yeah

and then you get home and walk into the living room

the boys have set up a blanket fort and a mess of cushions and pillows on the lounges

netflix is already loaded on the screen and chan and hyunjin have ordered takeout for everyone

so you all dress down into comfy clothes and pyjamas and sit and eat while watching a movie

your pick ofc

they do bake you a cake, or buy one for you if you're not into that

but they don't sing happy birthday bc they don't want to embarrass you

the maknaes def try and burst into off-tune song

you just let them bc it's funny

'you guys are literally singers how do you massacre 'happy birthday'...'

anyway

you all fall asleep in a heap with frosting-flavoured lips and sticky fingers

when you end up waking up, you decide to go to your bedroom

there's gifts from all the members on the bed and cards too

which makes you tear up

bc they were considerate enough to determine that you might be uncomfortable opening them in front of everyone

you make sure to thank them all the next day

skz loves you so much and will do anything to see you happy <3

a/n: i want cake now

hello 🙊 for the prompt list thing may i request 17 + 28 with lino or jisung pls 😌 excited to see what you'll come up with heheh

i had fun with this request, anon. it's kind of sad so maybe i'll write a little part 2 to it but ig we all need some angst from time to time. i was actually going to write jisung for this fic but i'll save him for another ><

rose - lee minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

summary: you and lee minho, the smartest student on campus, get unexpectedly paired up to work on an assignment

genre: kinda angsty ngl, escalates quickly, college!au, mutual pining, mentions of being thrown out a window (it's a minho fic what do you expect)

a/n: this isn't really how i saw it going but fuck it we ball. dividers by @kodaswrld

⛓️ prompts: 17. "Why are you looking at me like that?" / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

"It doesn't make sense," you groan, dropping your head into your hands. Giving up completely, you drop yourself further into the mess of books and papers scattered across Minho's low desk.

Today, the sun is watery and filters weakly through the wide windows of Minho's dorm bedroom, making everything seem pale and slightly colder than usual. You rub your feet together under the desk, your fluffy socks providing some comfort, before it evaporates as you turn back to the part of the assignment you've been struggling over for the past hour.

Minho is sitting across from you, embedded in his own section of the assignment; his head is bent and he sits with his back straight, his elbows positioned so that they just touch the edge of the table. He is pale in the weak sunlight and the only movement he makes comes from the slight flicking of his wrist as he neatly scribes down notes, apparently unaware of your predicament.

He looks like a statue, you think.

"Hey, Minnie," you hum lowly, resorting to annoying him instead of re-attempting your part of the assignment. "Help me out."

"No. And don't call me that."

You groan, pressing your fingers down onto the table and pushing several miscellaneous papers his way. A couple of sticky notes go flying too, and Minho sighs irritatedly as he plucks one off of the collar of his pristine white shirt.

Your eyes follow the trail of his hand as he lowers it, before it creeps back up. His top two buttons are undone and you can see the attractive glint of a necklace, a sleek chain perhaps, against the perfect porcelain skin of his throat-

You sigh. Of all people, why him?

You wish you'd been allowed to choose your own partner for the project. But your professor had other ideas in mind and decided to pair up random people 'to facilitate teamwork and spark new connections' or whatever. Something like that.

Much to your disappointment, you'd been separated from your friends and teamed up with Lee Minho. You knew of him but had never actually talked. Unless you counted that one time where you'd run face-first into him as he'd been coming out of the college library. And all that had been was a rushed apology from you and a slight, huffy glare from him.

He was kind of strange, you thought. He always sat at the front of every lecture, always finished his work way before it was due and scored perfectly every time. Without missing a beat and without breaking a sweat. It was so incredibly irritating.

On top of that, he was popular, usually swarmed by friends and other students whenever he walked the halls. Not that he seemed to notice most of the time. Or maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he was a robot. It would explain his behaviour.

A really attractive robot at that.

You crane your neck a little, peering over the stacks of books between the both of you and see that he's almost done writing up his notes for his section. All without even so much as a glance in your direction. Your page isn't even half-full and you're stuck.

"Why'd you ask me to come to your dorm if you were just gonna ignore me?" You whine.

"Because," he says calmly, "it's easier than having to do it over the phone."

Little shit.

"What about the library?" You retort. "We could have just gone there."

Minho doesn't take his eyes off the paper and he doesn't reply either. Faint colour rises in his cheeks but you're too wrapped up in your own current problems to notice.

"Minho, come on. We're supposed to be working together." You tilt your head and fix him with a pleading gaze, half-despair, half panic. You're not dumb, and maybe not incredibly smart like Lee Minho either, but this assignment is difficult. And it's harder when he's refusing to help.

You don't take your eyes off of him, deciding to keep your gaze fixed on his face until he chooses to acknowledge you. You wait almost ten minutes before he looks up again, and he jolts slightly, like he hasn't realised you've been fixated on him all that time.

He stiffens. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because. I need help."

"You're clever. Figure it out on your own."

Your heart flutters from the rather direct compliment but you choose to ignore it. "Minho, please."

He smirks suddenly, a short bout of apparent confidence, teasing as he imitates you. "Minho, please."

You swear and lift a fist but he doesn't even flinch. He looks at you quietly and his smile disappears, then he gets up and crouches down beside you, poring over your page.

He hums. "You didn't write shit."

You groan. "Yes, I know. Thank you for clarifying."

"You're welcome," he murmurs, unfazed, eyes fixed on the page.

It's then that you realise how close he is; he's not sitting down fully, leaning on the balls on his feet, a temporary sitting position. One hand is on the desk and he's leaning in a little, his mouth moving slightly as he exhales out words, skim-reading your page.

He smells good, you think.

Minho is there for what feels like hours but is probably a few seconds, and then he leans back, fixing you with a stare. You feel the unusual warmth of his presence near you fade, like a mug of hot tea gone cold, and a bitter feeling rises in your throat. You open your mouth a little, maybe to prepare for whatever insult he's concocted, but it doesn't come.

What does come is an unexpectedly gentle explanation of your section of the assignment. He moves a little closer to point things out on your research papers, so close that if you turned your head, the tip of your nose would brush his chest. He's looming over you a little but you feel strangely protected, and you find yourself relishing in the almost-contact of Minho being there beside you.

So much so that when he leans back to clarify that you've understood what he's been saying, you find yourself as a loss for words. All you can do is gaze up at his stupidly perfect face, mind whirring with many thoughts but none as present as the fact that you hadn't been listening and now he will probably throw you out the window.

"Y/n."

You blink once, slowly, stupidly.

"You're looking at me like that again."

And maybe it's the fact that this whole thing feels unreal, or that the assignment has you so dazed, or that you're working with Lee Minho of all people, but you suddenly find your hand reaching up to brush a strand of soft hair out of his eyes. It trails down until your thumb rests gently in the middle of his plush bottom lip. You expect him to move back, chide you, glare, push you away.

But he doesn't.

Later, you will be embarrassed by this memory, and the fact dimly registers somewhere in the back of your mind.

It seems to register in Minho's mind too, because his eyes widen a fraction and suddenly you find yourself falling off the soft, ethereal cloud of fantasy into the real world, where consequences and rational thoughts exist, though they didn't several seconds earlier.

You jerk your hand back and he looks almost disappointed, but you don't notice. A strand of fumbled apologies leaves your mouth as you stand, almost tripping, and quickly collect your belongings.

Minho has his hands out, seemingly trying to stop you, but his face is burning and unsure and you brush past him, fleeing as your eyes sting with tears. You rush through the unfamiliar setting of his dorm and eventually find the door.

"Wait," Minho gasps, seemingly out of breath. From what, you don't know. He still has his hands out, but he doesn't move to touch you, maybe afraid that he might scare you or cause some sort of unwanted reaction. Not that you're not already having one.

"Please," he says, quieter. You're still fumbling with the lock on the door, back to him. And you're not listening, too dazed and afraid to turn and face him. Humiliation washes over you in waves.

You feel so embarrassed.

But Minho has yet to throw an insult or a glare. He's just standing there, his hands out, almost reaching, and an expression of near-worry on his face. It looks strange, like he's not quite sure how to move his features to express it. In other situations, you would have laughed. Now all you want to do is cry.

The lock on the dormitory door finally gives and you rush out, disappearing down the hallway in a blur. Minho lets out a last, frantic 'wait' and considers rushing after you, but his rationality tells him it would just make things worse.

He pushes the door shut in a haze and sinks down against it, his hair ruffling against the smooth, white wood. He finds himself out of breath again, like he's been running, though he hasn't, and his stomach feels funny. Like something is leaping around inside it.

It's not unpleasant, almost a nice feeling, but it's unfamiliar and Minho has learnt to recognise that unfamiliar is usually not a good sign. He's supposed to know things and the feeling won't stop, so he puts both hands on his stomach to try and press it out, maybe.

But it doesn't work. Flashes of you run through his mind and the feeling only intensifies. His face feels like it's burning and he is bewildered, rosy in the weak sunlight. And he has a sudden, strange longing, yearning, maybe, to see you again.

Is it because you touched his face like that and he kind of liked it, maybe? Is it because he enjoyed having you around even though you're not a friend, or is it because you're a familiar face at college, and familiar is good and familiar is safe? He doesn't know.

A rather raw feeling surfaces in his chest and he almost gags at the unexpectedness of it. Suddenly he's on a stormy ocean, waves ravaging and lightning flashing all around him. He falls off his boat and loses his grip on the anchor and sinks into the cold, dark sea.

It runs down his cheeks, staining them wet and salty. And he's not one to be overemotional or show much of it in the first place unless there is a real reason, but he can't stop.

Minho puts his head in his hands and cries.

a/n: part 2?

tuck your innocence goodnight

i repainted this piece in honour of season 2 announcements coming out! can't wait to see my little gutterpunk in action again

landscape - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

summary: while hyunjin is gone on a trip, you decide to surprise him

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, reader described as the artsy type

a/n: thank you all sm for the support so far!! i woke up to 99+ notifications this morning, i'm so glad people enjoy my work 🥹

Your white shirt is streaked with another smear of peachy paint, right down the middle. Several other miscellaneous shades haphazardly decorate your front and back. Your jeans, to say the least, are permanently ruined. Your overall appearance right now gives off the vibes of an abstract painting that was left to dry, but then was accidentally dropped on the floor and forgotten about.

You couldn't care less.

Giggling to yourself, you reach up and swipe another streak of yellow across the wall. The room is a mess right now. A large white sheet is spread across the floor to protect the floorboards, and a load of different paint tins and cans are scattered throughout the room, crowding at your feet. Paintbrushes clutter the desk, and Lana del Rey echoes in the background, reverberating off the walls and swelling to fill the messy space. Almost every surface of the room is covered in paint and markers and pencils and a miscellany of other items that makes it look more like a art-dumping ground than Hyunjin's little art studio.

He's been gone on a work trip for the past few days, and without his presence to entertain you, you endeavored to start a project, something that would keep you busy until you returned. Safe to say, it certainly has.

You're currently painting a massive landscape across the back wall of the art studio, where it will best catch the light from the window opposite. The wet paint glows with the dappled sunlight that filters in through the window, making the rolling hills and fields of the painting look like they're under the summer sun. You asked Hyunjin beforehand about what he might do to decorate the studio, since the walls were bare and blank. He had simply laughed and kissed your nose, saying 'you decide, love.'

You're not really sure what he would think about the current mess on the wall. It's distinguishable, but you know it would have looked much better if he had been here to help. But you've tried your best, and it looks a lot better than you thought it would, so you continue, streaking sage and sky blue across the surface of the wall.

You've never felt so free. You understand why Hyunjin loves his craft so much, spending almost every free minute in this studio, with his paintbrush flicking expertly across the canvas and his slender, pretty hands tinted in reds and blues.

A sudden gasp from the studio door makes you drop the paintbrush. It clatters to the floor and you freeze, turning your head to the doorway.

Hyunjin stands, tall and elegant as always, both hands clasped to his mouth and eyes wide open. He's dressed in a smart, black suit, but his socks are mismatched and his hair is falling out of his hairstyle. One silver earrings clings to the lobe of his ear. He must have lost the other one, or been in the process of taking it off when he found you here in the studio, making an absolute mess on the walls.

But he doesn't look horrified at all. You thought at first he looked the way a parent might, when they walk into a room and find out their toddler has been drawing on the walls with coloured sharpies.

He looks delighted.

Rushing towards you, he sweeps you up in a hug, spinning around and laughing. You wriggle, not because you aren't pleased to see him, but because he's wearing a Versace suit and you're a mess of mismatched paints barely resembling a human being. He only holds you tighter, burying his face in your neck and streaking his cheek and hair with scarlet in the process. The scent of his spicy, woodsy perfume mixes with the smell of paint and turpentine, and you inhale deeply. He's bouncing on the spot, hands gesturing wildly and feet shuffling in a way that reminds you more of an excitable golden retriever puppy than your boyfriend. You're not sure if he's happier to see you or the half-painted wall. You open your mouth to express your surprise and delight at his sudden arrival, but are interrupted.

He squeals, hands flapping. "The WALL! Did you do it all by yourself? Oh, and you raided all my art supplies too- is that a landscape of Jeju Island, where we went last year? Oh, it is! I remember you stood there and i took photos of you- love, you really should have painted yourself into it, i would have loved that-"

You cut him off with a kiss. Pulling back, you whisper.

"Help me finish it? It doesn't feel perfect like i wanted it to..."

He's already stripping off his Versace jacket, throwing it to the paint-smattered floor.

"Hyunjin- why would you throw it on the floor, that's expensive-"

"Don't care."

He's already picked up your fallen brush, handing it to you and selecting one of his own. Crouching down, he delicately dips it into a tin of black paint and adds two little stick figures in the corner- a tall one with a paintbrush and a shorter one holding its hand. He changes brushes and gently dabs yellow and red to its face, similar to your face in its current state. It takes you a moment to realise that it's you and Hyunjin. He grins, setting his brush down.

"Now it's perfect."

a/n: don't forget to request ! likes and comments are so appreciated, and again, thank you for all the love <3

HIII LOVEEE

could you do something about ninth member!reader who found out they were pregnant and are trying to hide it from everyone?? you don’t have too if your not comfortable with pregnancy and stuff

-🪻

hi my love~ just a few shorts thoughts on how skz would react . . . they would be the most supportive people ever and you can't change my mind >< here you gooo~

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

summary: how skz would react to hearing about your pregnancy . . .

genre: this is literally just fluffy, idol!au, 9th member!au, mentions of pregnancy, eating, drinking, worried chan and seungmin, we're naming the baby megatron bc jisung said so, innie and felix's made me cry :(

a/n: 🪻 anon you've outdone yourself . . . skz would be the most supportive members ever :((

skz masterlist

Chan who instantly clears your schedule the moment he hears the news. No more dance practices for you. Reluctantly allows you to moderately exercise, but hovers worriedly nearby like you're about to give birth any minute. Still lets you sing and do interviews, but always has a watchful eye on you. Just in case.

Minho who heads straight to the kitchen and begins planning out nutritious meals. You have to eat snacks in secret because he'll snatch it off you and feed you a proper meal instead. You no longer have to worry about what to cook, because your fridge in the dorm is stocked to the brim with all sorts of deliciousness.

Changbin who gets all huffy when he finds out you've been keeping the news from him and the other members. Forgives you within a minute and recommends some gentle exercises to keep you fit and healthy during your pregnancy. Buys you maternity straps and lots of little helpful items. Secretly hopes the baby is a girl.

Hyunjin who wants to paint you instead of you getting a maternity shoot; even if the bump isn't visible, he'll insist on it anyway. Refuses to let you see until he's finished painting, giggling to himself. When he finally gifts it to you, it's an oil painting of you with a bouquet of flowers covering your stomach in shades of baby blue and pink.

Han who immediately asks to name the baby; goes all pouty when he finds out you don't know the gender. When the perinatal depression hits, he'll come up with all sorts of silly names to make you laugh ("Can we name it Megatron?") and always tickles your stomach with a finger to cheer you up. Wants to teach the baby to rap.

Felix who always has a hand on your stomach whenever you're sitting down; the warmth radiating from his palm is soothing and calming. Is often found gazing at you with soft, loving eyes, before they travel down to your stomach. Becomes even softer and more gently protective after you tell him the news (if that's even possible).

Seungmin who quietly sits by your side after you tell him; he's not sure how to process the news, so he gazes at you with wide eyes and starts to worry just a little. After some reassurance, he'll be fine, but be prepared for the teasing jokes that come after he's recovered from the initial shock ("Did you swallow a watermelon, Y/n?")

Jeongin who immediately starts asking tons of questions; he wants to know everything about the process. Does it hurt? How does it come out? Where is it growing? Can the baby hear him talking? Yes it can. Once the bump starts developing, he can be found sitting by your stomach and singing gently to your unborn baby.

a/n: div by @dollywons

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo

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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 . . .

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @sillyseob @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627 @jsngprk-vhs

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hello 🤗 saw that yours reqs are open and i was thinking about a anxious reader that can't sleep and is tired and changbin calming and lulling them to sleep

hello lovely anon ! ooo this is a good request. i didn't know if you wanted reader to be feeling anxious about something in particular, so i just did general worry and anxiety. enjoy <3

insomnia - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: you're struggling to fall asleep due to anxiety, but changbin is there to help.

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, reader struggles to fall asleep, mentions of anxiety, slight mentions of a panic attack

a/n: comments are appreciated <3

The night is cold.

Everything is perfect; outside is quiet, immured in the sheath of a late-night sky, there's no traffic outside the apartment, and the lights inside are off. The bedroom is dark, and at the perfect temperature. The hum of the AC sends cooling waves of chilly air over the room, contrasting with the warm duvet.

But you can't sleep.

Tossing onto your side for the fifth time, you huff frustratedly and almost whack Changbin in the process as you shift. He's fast asleep next to you, his face lit only by the dimmed purple and green lights emitting from the gaming setup in the corner. The bedsheets are tangled round his bulky frame, muscly arms splayed over your waist. His jet-black hair fans out messily against the stark white of the pillow. His mouth is slightly open, and he's lost in the deep, dreamless sleep of the utterly exhausted. He'd had a massive day at work, and had come home late at night and gone straight to sleep after quickly eating. He hadn't moved since collapsing onto the bed.

In the dim lights, you can just barely see him, and you pause to gaze at his face, highlighted in muted tones of violet and lime green. He looks so relaxed, so at peace.

You wish you could feel the same way.

Your brain is wide-awake, but you feel absolutely shattered. The anxiety and worry gnawing at the lining of your stomach isn't helping much either. A million thoughts race through your head, swirling and zooming and cluttering your mind. The storm rages and thunders until all you can hear is the deafening rush of your worries drowning you in a tidal wave of uneasiness and apprehension.

Turning to lie on your back, you gently pry Changbin's arm off your waist, laying it carefully by his side. You trace a little pattern on his arm before pulling away and clenching your hand in a fist by your side. The last thing you want to do right now is wake him up.

Blinking to try and clear your mind, you try to think of a logical solution to your worries. But it's like your rationality has ceased to exist, throwing you further into the raging storm. No matter what you do, it doesn't feel like it'd help at all. You think you've run through almost every possible but useless solution to your problem by the time the LED clock on the bedside table hits midnight. Nothing is working, nothing will help.

Exhaling harshly through your nose, you throw off the duvet and shiver as your bare feet hit the cold floor. You tuck the blanket into the crook of Changbin's arm so he doesn't feel your absence in his sleep. You hear him grunt softly in his sleep and tug the blanket closer.

Once you're sure he won't wake up, you creep to the window and sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall. The night is cool and serene, and you close your eyes, envisioning yourself becoming part of the night sky, a symbol of peace and tranquility. You shiver again, more intensely this time, as the cold begins to seep into your bones beneath your thin nightclothes. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you take a shaky breath, trying to keep it together.

Why can't I just fall asleep? Why can't I stop worrying?

The more you question yourself, the more your anxiety increases. It peaks and takes a firm hold of your mind, gripping it and squeezing until all that is left is a mess of uncontrollable chaos and jumbled thoughts. You don't even realise when your breathing begins to speed up and you cover your mouth, desperately trying not to make noise. The storm thunders wildly in your head, pounding and raging, and you feel yourself falling into the deep abyss, perhaps forever. Never to be found again, like a sinking stone at the bottom, of a deep, dark, cold, lonely ocean.

It's too much it's too much it's too much-

You feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrap around your torso. You gasp like you've been lifted out of the ocean you were drowning in. Changbin's arms are a life ring, floating you back upwards, helping you break the surface with a heavy, gasping breath that makes you slump into his chest with a choked sob.

"Binnie," you cry weakly, clinging to him.

He shushes you gently, rocking back and forth with you in his arms. His big, warm hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, hushing you and carefully bringing you down from the panic.

He keeps gently rocking like that, and you close your eyes against his chest, relishing his warmth. Your tears stain salty tracks down your face and seep into the material of his shirt, but Changbin doesn't mind. He kisses your forehead lightly and whispers an "i love you" in your ear before picking you up gently and taking you to bed. The warmth of the bedsheets and the heat from Changbin's body as he tucks you into his chest slowly lull you to sleep.

The storm finally settles.

a/n: for anyone who has anxiety or similar conditions, feel better ! i tried to write this as accurately as possible, and i based the panic attack off a personal experience i had. everyone's different but i hope this helped. thank you anon <3