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lonely st. ✧ chapter iii : the walls

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: mentions of injuries, hyunjin is clumsy, sad y/n, mentions of blood, nothing too graphic, descriptions of a panic attack

a/n: chapter three hehe, still going strong >:)

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n trudged into the library, slumping down into her usual chair. Placing her forehead over her folded arms with a huff, she closed her eyes and tried to rest. It had been a particularly rough day, with the usual feeling of isolation eating at her more than it usually did. It wasn’t unusual for her to go whole school days without so much as saying a word, but it felt stranger today for some reason.

She figured it must be because of Hyunjin.

They had talked yesterday, when she had slipped him the little chicken bandaid, but she hadn’t seen him in the morning before school, or in form classes either. She found she strangely sort of missed him. It was like walking outside one morning, expecting it to be sunny, but instead it was raining.

No, pouring down.

Sighing, she nuzzled further into her arms and dozed for a while, inhaling the scent of her jumper. Turning her head to the side to get more comfortable, she noticed a pair of white and black basketball shoes under the table next to her own polished black shoes. Her heart thudded and she raised her head sleepily, her eyes meeting Hyunjin’s.

He was busy working on something yet again; some sort of essay. Y/n realised it was the one that had been handed out in class earlier that day. She swore she’d seen him finish it halfway before shoving it into his backpack and practically bolting to the gym. He’d been scribbling incessantly then, clearly in a rush, but here he was, sitting quietly next to her, writing with precision, his pencil pausing every few words to think out his next phrase. Y/n had never seen him so focused.

Resting her head cautiously on her forearms, Y/n watched him mutely, the sound of his pencil scratching against the paper the only sound in the otherwise silent library.

“Hi, Y/n,” he said quietly without taking his eyes off the paper.

Y/n flushed, not expecting him to catch her out. Her face flushed red and she sat up, unnecessarily adjusting the oversized sleeve of her dark blazer.

“Hi.”

A gentle smile graced Hyunjin’s lips. “Were you watching me?”

Y/n glared at him coldly.

He laughed, his eyes slitting. “Okay, alright, chill. I thought you fell asleep until you turned your head.”

“I did fall asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry if I woke you.”

The question that had been in the back of Y/n’s mind suddenly sprung from her lips before she could hold herself back. “Why do you always sit here, Hyunjin?”

His head snapped up, pencil stilling in his fingertips, looking surprised and a little hurt. Y/n immediately regretted it, realising how harsh she’d sounded. Not knowing what to do, she pressed her mouth into a line, waiting for him to reply.

His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Do you not like it when I sit here?”

Y/n blinked, taken aback. “It’s- it’s just that you’re one of the most popular people in the grade, but you choose to sit here every lunchtime instead of playing basketball with your friends, or, I don’t know, being anywhere else except here. Hyunjin, I- it just doesn’t make sense.”

He sat up straighter. “It does make sense.”

Y/n shook her head. Hyunjin grabbed the bottom of her chair, turning it forcefully towards himself, so that he was eye-to-eye with her. Y/n’s shoulders tensed, her hands clenching the seat as Hyunjin leaned forward. His eyes were dark, captivating. Y/n gulped, her back straight against the chair, as Hyunjin’s arms rested on the sides.

“It does make sense,” he whispered sincerely. “I want to be friends with you.”

Y/n slammed the cubicle door shut behind herself. Sliding all the way down to the floor, she gasped, head falling into her hands.

Why did I run away?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget the past few minutes. He’d just been talking to her, telling her he wanted to be friends, and she’d pushed him away, bolting from the library.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re so stupid.

Maybe it had been the forced proximity. Maybe it was the way Hyunjin had locked at her, dark, slitted eyes gazing into hers with the most kindness she’d been treated with in a long time. And it had scared her, felt so bizarrely unfamiliar, that she couldn’t stand to be near him any longer.

It was too risky. Hyunjin was too risky. All of it was.

Y/n’s back began to hurt from the curled up position, so she stretched a leg out and rested it on top of the closed toilet seat, eyes idly tracing the stitching on her shoes. A hot tear slipped down her cheek, followed by a few more, each one making her sink deeper into her thoughts. The only sound that could be heart from the otherwise quiet bathroom was muffled sobbing and gasping, echoing from the cold, lonely cubicle at the end of the row.

Hyunjin was probably just pulling some elaborate dare, trying to get her to open up so he could expose her and make her look like a total idiot. He was popular, sporty, handsome, so it made no sense for someone like him to be hanging around someone like her.

Y/n wiped her tears, and made a mental note to keep her distance.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin stood in the library, frozen. He’d gotten up and tried to stop her from leaving, but she’d fled like a wild hare, and now he wasn’t sure what to do. He was standing, hand outstretched, and now there was no Y/n to take it.

Stupid, Hyunjin thought. What was I thinking? I scared her off and now she might never talk to me again.

He leaned against the solid wooden table with a sigh, his hands clenching the edge. Dropping his head, his mind whirred as he tried to think of a way to make her understand that he wasn't a threat, he wasn't making fun of her, he wasn't trying to pull off some stupid, popular boy dare.

Hyunjin stumbled as the table behind him shifted and his lower back knocked against the solid surface. Wincing at the dull pain, he put a hand over the ache and hissed out through his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut, sinking down to the floor, and tucked his long legs to his chest, grumpily blowing a bang out of his eyes.

What Jisung had said earlier in the day began to make sense. What was it he had said?

I'm just worried about you getting caught up in something you don't understand.

And he was right. So, so right. Hyunjin had to admit it to himself; he had no clue what Y/n was going through. If he was being honest, he didn't even know what sort of person she was. Maybe Jisung was right; maybe she chose to be alone, maybe she didn't mind the whispers behind her back, or simply chose not to pay attention to it. Maybe it was just a lifelong thing, and she was used to it, or perhaps didn't even realise how alone she was.

But surely, no one wants to be alone for that long.. He had no clue. His head spun with the possibilities. Maybe it was something at home, or a mental thing. Or she had trauma, or maybe she just didn't mesh well with most people. But Hyunjin had seen her with some of the girls, Sangmi and Ha-eun for sure, and Yeji too... if she had friends, why didn't she hang out with them? Why did she spend every single breaktime in the library alone, and avoid talking to anyone

"Maybe she's just scared," he said quietly to himself.

The bell rung.

"See you later, Hyunjin!"

Jisung jogged off to catch the bus, Felix at his tail. Hyunjin watched the chaotic pair shove each other onto the bus, fighting to scan their cards first, and simultaneously clashing heads. Hyunjin chuckled, rolling his eyes, and then turned and walked away in the opposite direction, down the street.

He trudged a little as he went, still feeling remarkably downcast. He wasn't sure why Y/n's rejection of the offer of his friendship had stung so much. Maybe it was just because he wasn't used to having people reject him. If anything, it was usually the opposite.

He pondered this as he walked. He couldn't really remember a time where people hadn't wanted to talk to him, or had at the very least rejected his attention. Girls liked him, and vied with their friends for his attention, his teachers and his basketball coach liked him very much, singing his praises, and he was a popular figure both in his friend group and at home. He wondered if it was all going to his head.

No, he told himself firmly. If it had all gone to my head, I wouldn't be thinking about it in the first place.

Hyunjin was so distracted by his thoughts that his foot caught on a stray tree branch lying near the edge of the pathway. He stumbled unceremoniously, arms flailing, scraping his knees painfully on the concrete.

"Shit," he swore. "Fuck, ow..."

Groaning, Hyunjin looked ahead, calculating how far he had left to walk home. He spotted a familiar figure up ahead, trudging into the distance like he had a few minutes earlier. His heart lifted.

Y/n.

Wincing, he stood up, his knees crying a sharp protest. Chiding himself for the unexpected fall, he took a tentative step forward, trying to ignore the stinging pain radiating from his joints. How was he supposed to play basketball like this? The championship was soon. He didn't have time to be messing around with knee injuries.

Hyunjin inhaled sharply and braced himself for the pain, beginning to run. Forget about the scrapes. He had to fix things with Y/n, let her know that he actually wanted her around, and meant no harm.

Probably not the best idea to chase after her like a psychopath, his rationality told him sensibly. But it sounded so far off, and frankly, Hyunjin just wanted the logical voice to shut up. Even if it meant his knees would be screaming for the rest of the night.

Being a basketballer, Hyunjin's footsteps were light and agile, so Y/n didn't hear him coming. She stopped and turned around just as Hyunjin did, so that they nearly collided, his nose brushing hers.

Y/n recoiled sharply, flinching, and Hyunjin immediately took two paces back, not wishing to scare her. Her hands lowered themselves slowly and pressed themselves over her heart like she was in shock.

Hyunjin stopped dead in his tracks. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes puffy, and her nose red from presumably rubbing it repetitively. Without a word, Hyunjin reached into his pocket and drew out a tissue, holding it out to her slowly.

Y/n glared at him. She looked about as defenceless and intimidating as an angry kitten. She turned and began walking away, her hands gripping the strap of her bag tighter, knuckles turning white.

"Y/n, please. Just wait."

Sighing, she stopped. Turning around, she regarded him with a wary, suspicious glare. Her voice was cracked and broken. "What?"

Hyunjin sighed, holding out the tissue and stepping just a tiny bit closer.

Y/n took it with two fingertips like she was afraid he was going to jump on her. Her eyes never left Hyunjin's face, and it reminded him strangely of the way birds at the park would cautiously take a breadcrumb if you scattered it near them.

She blew her nose, sniffed, and then scrubbed a hand under her eyes, the skin red and raw.

Sniff. "Happy?"

Hyunjin nodded. "I'm sorry I scared you at breaktime, grabbing your chair like that. I just- I really do want to be friends with you."

Y/n sighed dully. "I know this is some stupid dare, Hyunjin. Can you just leave me alone?"

Hyunjin spluttered, taken aback. "W-what? Dare? No, no, I mean it."

Y/n's brows furrowed. "That makes no sense, like I said earlier."

A pang of subconscious affection coursed momentarily through Hyunjin's veins. His eyes softened.

"Like I said too, it does make sense. Just because we're from different friend groups doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"It's high school, Hyunjin. That's exactly what it means."

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

Y/n huffed, still glaring. Hyunjin was almost impressed with how long she'd managed to retain the same laser-focused, disapproving gaze.

"Don't you have enough friends?"

"You aren't the only one who feels lonely, Y/n."

She went silent. Hyunjin bit his lip in slight panic, wondering if he'd overstepped a boundary. Was he making too many assumptions? Had he made her uncomfortable or worse, come across as someone who 'knew' everything about her? His heart sank, already knowing what her reply would be.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, almost inaudibly.

Hyunjin's head snapped up so fast he was sure it would be sore later. His head swum for a second as he fought to register her words.

"What?"

Y/n repeated herself, though a little irritatedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise that you were- you know. Feeling alone or whatever..."

She's choosing her words so carefully, he realised. She's so wary around me, and she still thinks that I'm faking. That all of this is some elaborate dare. Y/n, I would never.

Hyunjin's rationality piped up in the back of his head.

Tell her that, idiot!

He continued. "I, um... I mean it. It's just that- I've seen you, um, by yourself a lot, and I wanted you to know that my door is always open... and maybe we could be friends. Or at least classmates who talk to each other..."

Y/n raised a cautious eyebrow.

Hyunjin rushed to correct himself, waving his hands frantically back and forth. "S-sometimes! We can talk sometimes, or, I don't know, as much as you want if you're not that much of a talker-"

Y/n's brain whirred. Either Hyunjin was being genuine and he actually wanted her around, or he was just a really good actor. And Y/n was perceptive, knowing exactly when and how someone was lying, but the suspicion just didn't kick in as easily with Hyunjin as it normally did with everyone else.

Maybe he meant it.

But being friends, or acquaintances with him is still incredibly risky, Y/n reasoned stubbornly. It gives him an opening to hurt me. He could potentially strike as soon as he realises that I've let my guard down.

She glanced at him. A sorry sight, with his hair ruffled from the wind, and the chicken bandaid across his cheekbone beginning to unstick a little at the edges. His eyebrows were creased in worry and anticipation, his eyes slitting a little with the expression.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth and she could see him wringing his hands, the faint sheen of sweat making them slip together. His bag was halfway off his shoulder, uniform shirt disheveled. One shoelace was untied and oh, fuck, Hyunjin, what did he do to his knees?

Y/n exhaled slightly, perhaps a little desperately.

It's not like I've got much left to lose.

Every instinct she'd build up over the years screamed at her not to reply, but the words fought themselves out of her mouth anyway, hesitant and shaky.

"Fine. We can be... classmates. Who talk, or whatever."

Hyunjin smiled so brightly Y/n thought his face would split in half. She felt an unusual warm, fuzzy feeling settling suddenly in her stomach. Maybe she was ill. She never felt like that.

"Thanks," he grinned. It softened to a little smile. Clearly his relief at her grudging agreement was profound. He must have been really hoping she would say yes.

A few stones crumbled down from Y/n's walls, letting in a ray of sunlight.

"So, um.. your knees."

Hyunjin winced, hauling his bag a little higher on his shoulder. The other strap hung, pressed against his back as he walked. Y/n wondered idly why backpack companies didn't just manufacture bags with one strap. It's not like anyone used both straps, not even Y/n herself.

"Yeah," he said, huffing it on an exhale. "I, um, fell."

Y/n looked up at him. "When?"

"Around ten minutes ago. I got distracted and tripped on a tree branch."

Y/n sighed, glancing at his knees, then his shoes.

"Your socks are stained."

Hyunjin swore and swiped a tissue from his pocket, dabbing at the stream of blood dripping from his knees. Y/n frowned in concern.

"You should really get that checked out."

Hyunjin glanced up at her, exasperated. "I have to make it home first. Speaking of, I didn't realise you lived around here."

Y/n nodded warily. "I think it's a few streets down from where you live. I think."

Hyunjin nodded quietly in reply. There was silence but for the sounds of their pattered, slow footsteps and a soft jingling. Hyunjin realised it was coming from Y/n's bag. She had so many keyrings. A couple Sanrio characters, a coupe anime-related badges and pins, and a silver chain pinned to the top of her bag, hanging down to be pinned again at the front pocket. There were safety pins and beads and Hyunjin found himself wondering how long it'd taken her to collate all of the items.

"That's really cool," he said quietly to her. "All of the badges and pins and stuff."

Y/n stuttered, clearly not knowing how to respond. Truthfully, she'd been nudging it more to her right side, away from Hyunjin's gaze as he walked on her left side. She was half-afraid he would judge her or think she was trying to be quirky or something like that.

She cleared her throat and looked down at the pavement as they walked.

"Thanks."

Hyunjin tilted his head curiously. "How long did it take you to put on all of the stuff?"

Y/n hummed. "Don't know. I just add them whenever I feel like it."

Hyunjin gave her an admiring smile. "I bet you'd have to be really careful since it's fiddly. It probably took a lot of focus."

Y/n let a tiny, rueful smile escape. "It took a lot of pinpricked fingers too."

Hyunjin threw his head back and laughed, the sound joyful in the afternoon light. Y/n's depressed spirit lifted just a tiny bit.

He really was interested. But she toned it back, not wanting to scare him off, or worse, come across as overenthusiastic or cringy.

They kept walking until the end of the street, where it rounded a corner in front of a large willow tree. Y/n stopped walking.

"My house is round that street," she said vaguely, still a bit wary.

"Oh," Hyunjin said, feeling suddenly downcast. Had the walk really been that short?

He gave her another smile anyway, hoping to ease her worries. "I, um. I'm gonna keep walking. My house is just round that corner and down the street there."

Y/n nodded, apparently having nothing more to say.

Hyunjin nodded back awkwardly. He turned and began walking away from her, the leafy, soft strands of the fallen willow leaves chasing at his heels. The throbbing in his knees suddenly became more apparent; he hadn't even realised he'd been in pain, too distracted with talking to Y/n as they had walked.

Magic, Hyunjin thought. His hand gripped the strap of his backpack a little tighter as he tried not to look back.

"Hyunjin, wait..."

His hopes lifted suddenly and he turned back, looking at Y/n. He took a careful step towards her, a little pace. She gestured him back awkwardly. Approaching her, he noticed she was holding out a little paper, folded in half.

"Here," she said shyly, not looking him in the eyes.

Hyunjin took it from her gently, their fingertips brushing. He carefully unfolded it, the small weight inside turning out to be four bandaids. His cheeks warmed with affection at her hesitant gesture.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

Y/n nodded stiffly, whispering a quiet 'bye' as Hyunjin turned and walked away. She watched him go, still registering the whole interaction. Was he lying? Was he faking? Or did he mean it, mean all of it?

Y/n couldn't decide. Her brain logically filtered out conclusions, each thought a brick building up the battlements, but she couldn't deny the butterflies in her stomach. He'd noticed her and she hadn't even needed to reach out first. Despite Hyunjin's apparent amiable nature, she couldn't help but feel that there was still some sort of catch. She made another mental note to keep an eye out for any sign that his interest in her could be fake. Because there was always a chance it was some sick little game.

Having to be cautious all of the time was exhausting but she told herself firmly to keep her guard up around him. After all, he was just another person in her class, another person who could hurt her, another person who could take her heart as soon as she offered it and smash it to pieces on the floor.

Or the could be classmates.

Who talked, or whatever.

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the fast lane : part 3 (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, soft minho, brief mention of a past injury (read part two for context if you haven't already) reader gets tangled up in a mess, angsty chan and minho wc 3.2 k

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part 3 : porcelain and gold

Y/n groaned for the millionth time, banging her forehead on the wheel. Her hands clenched the cool leather beneath her fingertips and she let out a heaving sigh, squeezing her eyes shut.

The arena was bright and silent, glaring floodlights casting an almost blinding glow onto the lined up cars. The road was cool and damp, fresh from the light rain. The sky was murky with early-morning fog, shades of yellow and orange peeking out from behind the clouds. Y/n could distantly hear birdsong and the noise of the city upstreet, but right now, everything was quiet. Racing on the empty track, devoid of any obstacles or cars reassured Y/n a little, and she knew that if she made a mistake, nothing too bad would happen. But she still felt tense.

Sighing and starting the car again, she drove to the side tarmac, rolling down the window and cutting the revving engine.

Minho leaned down, forearms resting on the window frame. He tilted his head and pressed a couple fingers lightly into her shoulder, firm but gentle. Y/n looked up.

"That was better," he said quietly, nodding.

Y/n sighed, defeated. "It's not good enough-"

Minho interrupted, "Do you think I would have offered to get up this fucking early to train you for no reason? No. You're doing well, okay? It's just the turns that you need to work on."

Y/n bit her lip, fighting the rising pit of anxiety in her stomach. Opening the door, she stepped out and leaned against the cool surface of the car, trying to slow her breathing. Minho said nothing, simply letting her recuperate. When Y/n finally opened her eyes, she looked straight up at the man standing in front of her, eyes tired but sincere.

"I really do appreciate this, Minho, but I don't feel that I'm getting any better. It just feels like I'm going in circles."

Minho blinked. "You are going in circles. That's the whole point."

Y/n's mouth lifted up at the corners and she chuckled, punching the man lightly on the shoulder. He grinned and leaned against the car- his car- next to her.

Y/n had decided to take a couple days' break from racing, instead focusing on getting back to 100 percent. The cut in her neck had healed slowly, leaving her with nothing but a small, white scar on her nape. Her head felt better too, no longer bruised or sore. Since the street races ran almost every night, Y/n had decided to go back a couple days after the night when Minho had dropped her home.

She'd found him lurking around the backstage arena, watching the races. He had looked up in surprise, barely-masked, thankful relief, and something else. Some glint in his eyes that Y/n couldn't quite pinpoint. He'd unexpectedly smiled when Y/n had walked up to him and shyly proffered him a lollipop, exactly like the one he'd been sucking on the night she hit her head. Y/n remembered the way he'd almost immediately stuffed it in his mouth, smiling around the thin, white stick.

You'd both spent the night up in the arena stands, out of the light and out of the other racers' sight. Just quietly observing, testing the waters around each other. Y/n had felt tense at being in such close proximity with him, but it had slowly melted away over the next few hours.

Minho was actually quite funny. In a sadistic, sarcastic way, but Y/n adored it nonetheless. He was quiet and intellectual, but ambitious and unafraid. He was a contradiction in all of the best ways.

She'd continued visiting him at the arena most nights, and you would both often end up in the stands, talking into the early hours of the morning about various things. But as much as they talked, Y/n continued to feel as if she didn't know much about him at all. Minho had a way of dodging questions smoothly and turning them on her, often so seamlessly that she didn't even realise until she replayed her interactions with him in her mind later on.

This little routine of visiting had continued for about a week and a half, and Y/n was simply content to keep it that way. But Minho had other ideas, telling her one night that she'd benefit from training instead of just winging her races. Y/n had denied it, retorting with the fact that she had no one to teach her. She'd thought about asking Chan, but she didn't trust him at all, and besides, he seemed to be too busy working on or fixing his car, racing (and winning, unfortunately), and flirting with the pretty women fawning over his racecar. She had told Minho about the ordeal with Chan the first night they'd met, and how cocky he was. Minho had simply nodded.

"We used to be close friends," he'd told her. "But we don't talk anymore."

Then he'd changed the subject.

Used to be. Y/n wondered if something had happened between them. Did they fall out? Did they decide not to talk anymore for some unknown reason? Or did they both just choose their separate pathways and slowly lose their connection with each other?

Y/n wanted so badly to ask Minho about what had happened, but it felt wrong, almost demanding. Seeing as he had been so kind to her, Y/n felt that it was rude to ask him something so personal, even if she wasn't sure why he had decided to befriend her in the first place. And if she was being honest, Y/n also felt that he wasn't really the kind of person who would welcome such a personal question with an open heart and mindset.

She also wasn't really sure if she and Minho were friends. Sure, he was nice and all, but could she really trust him? What if he was just like Chan? What could he possibly be trying to achieve by befriending her?

No, Y/n shook her head. He wasn't like that, she was sure of it.

Said man's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Blinking up at him, she stopped dead in her tracks. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even realised they'd left the arena.

They were standing in front of a little cafe. Y/n recognised it briefly, realising she'd passed it so many times before during her walks to the arena. She'd never stopped to look at it. It was quite pretty, and-

Minho flicked her forehead.

"Ow," she whined, hands pressing over the sore spot. "What'd you do that for? And why are we here-"

Minho rolled his eyes. "Well, I flicked your forehead because you've been in your head all day. You didn't even realise when we left the arena. I'm not sure you even knew that you were walking. And secondly, I'm hungry and this place has good food. Come on."

He took her hand and tugged her inside, the little bell above the shop door tingling. He led her to a little table booth in the far corner, pushing her lightly to sit down. It was a light push but Minho's standards, but Y/n knew that sometimes he forgot his own considerable strength and she almost stumbled, landing on the cushioned booth seat with an oof. Minho disappeared for a few minutes and Y/n realised he'd gone to the front to get something to eat. She hadn't brought money with her to buy anything, but she wasn't really hungry, so she sat back and looked out the window, waiting for him to return.

The cafe was modern but cute, boho-chic furnishings making up the majority of the wooden tables and chairs. The rest of the tables and chairs were white, and it all contrasted nicely against the various, lush, potted plants spilling their vines and leaves down wooden, high-set shelves. The counter up the front had a display glass lining its expanse, and behind it were stocked all sorts of pastries and other food. The place was pretty much empty and Y/n wondered why before realising that it was extremely early. Not even caffeine-lovers came down to buy their daily coffee this early. The lights were off, and there was no need for them to be on, since the sunlight spilling into the cafe from the large windows illuminated everything in a soft, golden glow. Y/n began to feel sleepy.

Minho walked up, holding two mugs and a slice of cheesecake on a pretty silver tray. He set it down and pushed one of the mugs towards her. The rich scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted into her face, filling her lungs with a pleasantly soft, warm, and spicy aroma. She inhaled deeply before looking up at Minho questioningly.

"Is this for me?" she said quietly, almost hesitantly.

He took a big gulp from his own mug before setting it down and inclining his head. "Yeah."

Y/n felt a warm flush tingle on her cheeks. "You didn't have to, Minho."

He rolled his eyes and took another gulp from the mug. "You're right, I didn't have to, but I wanted to. But if you don't want it, feel free to starve," he took one of the forks from the tray and cut the cheesecake slice into two halves, putting one on his tea plate and pushing the other half towards her. Y/n smiled.

"Cheesecake?"

Minho nodded. "Mmm. My friend loves it. I always order it when I come here. Reminds me of him."

Y/n smiled sincerely, staying quiet. She filed away this unexpected piece of personal information into a hidden chamber of her heart. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him into closing up again, and she nodded her head in acknowledgement before taking a sip from her mug.

The sweet, intoxicating heat of vanilla foam and the spicy, gingerbread-like taste of cinnamon flooded her body and she sagged back into the booth seat.

"Oh," she groaned. "This is so good..."

She heard Minho chuckle. Feeling a little bolder, she sat upright again and glanced at him curiously. He was dressed in black leather, a dark grey hoodie under his leather jacket. She could hear his combat boots absentmindedly tapping on the floor. His hair shone a lighter purplish-brown under the sunlight spilling onto the table, and his eyes were lightened to a honey brown. Y/n noticed his hands fiddling with the handle of his mug, the fingertips running up and down the smooth, ceramic surface. Y/n wondered if he was nervous, or perhaps upset about something.

"Min, are you okay?" she asked gently and quietly.

"Hmm? Yeah, sorry," he blinked at her, as if he'd snapped out of a daze. Y/n felt a knot of worry settle in the pit of her stomach, and feeling brazen, she reached out and placed a slender, much smaller hand over his. Heat from his hand flooded into hers.

Minho looked up in surprise, his fidgeting stopping. They locked eyes for a moment before Y/n pulled her hand away slowly, unsure of his reaction. She kicked herself mentally, worried she'd overstepped a boundary.

To Y/n's surprise, he chuckled. He didn't move his hand or snap at her like she had expected him to. He looked her right in the eyes, and Y/n swore for a second that there was a flash of gratefulness in his gaze. Y/n's palm froze and she smiled back, almost uncertainly.

Then, to complete this entirely unlikely scenario, Minho took her hand, calloused fingertips brushing her wrist, and placed it between his palms. Again, he was firm and gentle; not too much force, nor too little. Simply steady and reassuring.

Heat flooded Y/n's cheeks. She hadn't expected that he would be so open to her affection. He noticed her scarlet cheeks and smirked, his voice coming a little lower than before.

"You called me Min."

Y/n squeaked in embarrassment and looked away, flushing. She attempted to pull her hand out of his grip, but he was unrelenting.

"It-it was just a heat of the moment thing," she stuttered.

Minho laughed, the sound light like the foam in her mug. "Heat of the moment? Are you sure that's the phrase you were going for?"

"Shut up."

Minho chuckled before settling back into the booth seat. "It's fine, by the way."

"What is?"

He huffed a little. "I don't mind you calling me Min. But not in a sappy, lovey-dovey way, got it?"

Y/n lifted her mug to her mouth in order to hide her smile.

-

Minho opened the door to the passenger seat of his racecar, slamming the door shut. He didn't bother putting his seatbelt on, and Y/n chided him before revving the engine and speeding off. They'd returned to the arena after spending almost two and a half hours in the cafe, both of them having been too caught up in their animated conversation to notice the time passing by.

The arena was still empty, and the afternoon sun shone high in the sky. The floodlights hadn't turned on yet, and it was the sun that caught the sleek angles and edges of Minho's car as Y/n steered it around the arena track. Her hands gripped the smooth leather of the wheel and her feet danced across the pedals as Minho instructed her through the turns.

"Good, that's it- turn a little more, angle the car."

Y/n did as he said, fingers digging into the steering wheel as she sped up and executed the turn perfectly.

Minho let out a whoop of triumph and Y/n laughed in disbelief, pulling the car to the side of the track. She stumbled out and so did Minho, who swooped her up in a sudden, unexpected hug.

"Took you long enough," he said, grinning. He set her back down onto the tarmac, cheeks flushed. Whether it was in exhilaration or something else, Y/n didn't know. She was too happy to care.

The laughter died down and Y/n gazed up at Minho, his dark eyes locking with her own. They both stood there, Minho's arms encircling Y/n's waist where he'd lifted her, and her arms clutching his broad shoulders where she'd held on. He looked so pretty, the sun smoothing all his features into ivory porcelain and molten gold. Y/n saw his cheek tuck in slightly, like he was biting the inside of it. He leaned down slightly, and opened his mouth to say something, a slight flash of guilt flickering in his eyes, and then-

"What a performance."

Y/n and Minho both jerked their hands off each other like they'd been caught doing something wrong.

Chan was walking across the tarmac towards them. He was clapping slowly and the sound echoed throughout the arena, causing an unpleasant chill to run down Y/n's spine. One of Minho's hands was still on her waist and she felt it tighten infinitesimally around her hip.

Chan reached them, smirking. He had put his hands into the pockets of his racing suit, the same black and red one he'd worn the night Y/n had met him. This time, she disliked him even more.

Chan's smile faded as his eyes flitted to Minho. Y/n glanced up at her friend just as his hand dropped from her waist. He looked suddenly pale.

"Minho?" she said hesitantly. But he didn't seem to hear, his eyes fixed on the racer. Y/n saw the lines of his shoulders tense just as Chan spoke.

"I didn't think you'd have the guts to show up here, Minho," his voice was cool and calm, yet tinted with an undertone of menace.

"I've been here spectating most nights."

"I know," Chan's voice lowered. "I meant here. On the tracks. You know, after..."

Y/n heard Minho suck in a breath.

Chan was seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. Stepping closer to Minho, he looked him dead in the eyes. Y/n swore she could have cut the tension in the air with a knife. She stumbled back unsurely as Chan's shoulder nudged her as he passed. He was so close to Minho, so close that Y/n could see that there was only a few centimeters worth of space between them. She could see Chan trembling and she took another step back, unsure if they were about to fight, or worse.

Minho had gone as still as a statue, and Y/n could see the cracks appearing in his nonchalant facade. Chan was still too, but in an entirely different way. Where Minho was tense, Chan was shaking.

Like he was holding back.

Y/n heard a string of unfamiliar, garbled words come out of Chan's mouth and she shook her head a little, frowning, before she realised Chan was speaking a different language. It sounded Japanese, Korean maybe? She wasn't sure. A wave of guilt washed over her. They clearly did not want her to understand, or become a part of whatever it was they were fighting over. It didn't look much like a fight, nor a disagreement. Y/n had no clue what it was, but she knew it was something serious.

Chan spoke again, this time with a hint of venom in his tone. Even though she couldn't understand what he was saying, she could clearly tell he was blaming Minho for something. Minho looked like he was about to cry, or run away, or hit Chan. Or all three.

With a final spit of venom-laced Korean, Chan turned and stormed away, not sparing Y/n a second glance. She stumbled a step back, feeling a nauseous mix of guilt, anger at Chan, worry for Minho, shameful curiousness at both, and more than all of that, fear. Taking a second to come to herself, she turned to her friend, unsure of whether to speak. The sun had set, and Minho's features were no longer ivory and molten gold. The dawning twilight had hardened his face into a mask of cracked stone, the haphazard gaps run through with dripping silvery gunmetal. Y/n realised with a startled confusion that he was crying.

What had Chan said to him, she wondered. Turning back to the direction Chan had stormed off in, she bit her lip, trying to decide between consoling her friend and asking the other clearly angry racer if he was okay. She disliked Chan, but the stark deviation from his cocky, ambitious, flirty demeanor to the solemn, almost devastated expression he'd held as he spat made Y/n's heartstrings twitch. She couldn't help but feel as if she'd tangled herself up in a much bigger problem, and the fine hair on the back of her neck and her arms stood up at the thought. Her blood began to frost over in her veins, and she felt upset for some reason, like the entire dispute had been her fault. A dull, ugly thud echoed from behind her.

Minho had collapsed to the ground.

a/n: ooooooohh.....

pretty similar i think... thanks for the tag @its-stayville-forever . . .

tagging @jeonginsleftcheek @linocvp1d @sanriomilk @jisunggy if yall wanna have a go ⛓️

blog vs blogger with this picrew.. "tagged" by @wronglennon <3 tagging @woodsteingirl @jokerlennon @porciaenjoyer @lesbiansagainsttheatre & anyone who wants to

hello~ i dont usually read reader x idol as parents but today i got to see the most beautiful kid in a karate exam and it got me thinking about changbin and reader as parents watching and cheering for their little son in a exam/championship in any sports, with him getting a medal (even tho i think changbin's son would combine perfectly in a martial fighting like karate or jiu jitsu) 🤗

awww, that's cute >< sorry for the wait !

little fighter - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: you and changbin are watching your son compete at a championship

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, crack, reader and changbin are married, reader and changbin's son does karate, sweat (does that need a warning??)

a/n: divider by @anitalenia

The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with excitement and the scent of polished wood floors mixed with the faint aroma of sweat. Rows upon rows of spectators filled the bleachers, but all eyes were on the mat where several young competitors were busy showcasing their skills.

Changbin sat beside you, his fingers interlaced with yours, the nervous energy radiating from him evident.

“Look at him go!” Changbin exclaimed, his loud, exuberant voice rising above the cheers. Your son, clad in a crisp, white karate gi, looked focused and determined, moving with the grace of someone far beyond his years. Every one of his punches and kicks echoed with the outcome of his hard work and dedication over the years. He stumbled a little suddenly against his opponent, but quickly brought himself upright in time to parry a block. You and Changbin cheered so loud the people in front of you cover their ears (half in annoyance.

“Come on, buddy! You’ve got this!” you shouted, your heart swelling with pride. The adrenaline pulsed through your veins as you saw him land a perfect roundhouse kick, earning an impressive round of applause from the crowd spectating the event.

As the championship progressed, you and Changbin exchanged glances filled with excitement and encouragement. With each passing round, your son fought fiercely, his passion shining through every move. The moment he reached the final match, you both stood up, clapping and cheering louder than before.

“Just a little more!” Changbin urged, his voice thick with emotion. Chancing a quick glance at your husband's hands, you saw that his palms were red. They must have been buzzing with the force of his clapping. Your hands were the same, but both of you paid it no mind.

The match was difficult, both your son and his opponent stumbling more than once, but with one final, slightly clumsy strike, your son defeated his opponent. The referee raised his hand in victory, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Your heart raced as you rushed to the mat, wrapping your arms around your sweaty, panting son as he beamed with joy.

“You did it!” you cried, holding him tightly.

Changbin joined in, lifting your son high into the air. “That was amazing! We’re so proud of you!”

Moments later, he received his medal, its gleam reflecting the pride in his eyes. You both knelt down, beaming with joy as he clutched the shiny plate.

“This is just the beginning, kiddo!” Changbin said, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Your son smiled so hard you thought his face would split in half. Changbin was still ruffling his hair, a thin sheen of the perspiration coating his hand. You wrinkle your nose and laugh. Your son does too, taking your hand as you all walk off the mats. He jumped about and talked excitedly, reenacting moves and kicks.

Changbin grinned, subtly wiping his now sweaty hand discreetly onto the hem of your top.

a/n: YALL I FORGOT THE HEADER, I JUST ADDED IT TO THE FIC TT

Heya! Do you take requests?

ya

snake - yang jeongin

pairing: yang jeongin x reader

summary: you come home to jeongin after a long, exhausting day

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort, soft innie, reader had a tough day, the snakes are just a metaphor i promise

a/n: this is super rushed. divider by @atsubie

You trudge down the pavement, brushing past pedestrians and groups of chattering students. A man with his phone to his ear shoves roughly past you and you sway where you're standing, a feeling of hopelessness settling into your stomach like a dark, writhing snake.

These past few weeks have been horrible.

First, one of your close friends at work told you that some of the other coworkers have been spreading nasty rumours about you. You spilled your drink this morning on the way to the building and had to run back and change quickly.

Then when you did show up, your boss shouted at you for being tardy in front of your entire division. You elected to work a couple more hours as compensation, and Jeongin is actually at home for once instead of at the company, so you missed out on an evening with him.

You had texted him earlier in the day, saying that you couldn't come home, and he'd called you. He hadn't minded, his tone casual and slightly teasing as per normal, but you knew him well enough to know he was disappointed at not getting to finally spend some time together.

The coiling snake of guilt, shame, and exhaustion in your stomach has been writhing all week long, and honestly, you're just fed up. Pressing a hand to your midriff, you sigh and pick up the pace, weaving between people, muttering sorry and my bad without so much as a second glance.

You shove the door open and run directly into Jeongin with an oof. His hoodie pillows your face in a refreshing wave of fading cologne and fresh linen. You groan and stand there, sagging into him, the door still flung open in the wake of your frustration.

Jeongin blinks down at you, seemingly unsurprised. He wraps his long, firm arms around you, letting you lean against his chest. It's so warm and so comforting it brings tears to your eyes.

"Hi," he murmurs. "Long day?"

You nod mutely, face still shoved into his hoodie.

Jeongin chuckles, picking you up with little effort and carrying you over to the couch. There's a movie playing. He must have been watching it while waiting for you to come home, and your heart twinges guiltily for having made him wait.

"Innie," you whisper tiredly. "It's so late, why aren't you asleep?"

He's kneeling in front of you, gently undoing the buttons of your shirt so you can breathe, then slipping off your socks and shoes. The look of caring focus on his face doesn't go unnoticed in your current overemotional state. When he finally speaks, Jeongin's voice is soft, gentle, firm.

"You know I can't sleep without you, and I didn't want you coming home to silence."

You nod, unable to do anything.

"Besides," he continues, "You always wait up for me, even when I spend hours and hours at the company for dance practices."

He moves to sit beside you, tugging you gently into a side hug, the solidness of his chest against your chest a comforting anchor. You sit like that for a while, the movie muted and faint in the background.

Jeongin's presence is so warm, so comforting, that all you can do is close tired, strained eyes and lean into him further, inhaling his scent, relishing the solid weight of his arm around you. The burden finally lifts and the sharp, dull tension behind your eyes begins to dissolve, leaving you feel more relaxed and cosy than you've felt in a long time.

The coiling snake in your gut settles and disappears.

a/n: no snakes were harmed in the making of this fic

SO! something happened to my last account so it lowk got deactivated OOPS!! but js call me kanu!!

lol that happened to me once . . .

ye sure

my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day

*air horn sound*

*second air horn sound*

Taehyung: this isn't deodorant