Instant Ramen - Han Jisung

lonely st. ✧ chapter vi : broken mirrors

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: introducing a new character! jisung is the bestest ever and the biggest babygirl, sweet hyunjin, my nervous shy boy, very very fluffy, very soft, hyunjin keeps being clumsy

a/n: writing jisung is so ridiculously fun you have no idea

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n glanced across at Jisung, trying not to smile. He was busy bopping his head to the beat of whatever was playing in his headphones. His textbook was open in front of him, his laptop propping it up. His headphones were plugged into it, the excess cord wrapped loosely around his wrist.

Y/n put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, trying to see what he was listening to. She'd been finished with the assigned math work for the double lesson and she was watching Jisung. He was perfect entertainment.

Leaning back just a little further, she noticed his work was half-done. He was doing it at least; for the past couple of lessons he'd done nothing but bother her; asking for help on miscellaneous questions, not listening when she explained them to him, whispering rude jokes to her, doodling on her hand. Or all three of them if he was hyper enough. Y/n had learned to identify when he'd been gulping those sugary energy drinks Hyunjin refused to touch under any circumstances.

Now she knew why.

Not that she minded. It was fun to finally be able to sit next to someone. And Jisung didn't seem to mind that she wasn't much of a talker, excitedly filling the space between them with whatever happened to be occupying his mind at the moment.

Y/n failed to keep the smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. His Spotify was open, a half-window, playing some song on full volume.

Queencard, she thought, smirking. Isn't that some popular (G)-IDLE song?

She leaned forward and tugged loosely on his sleeve. He pulled one tangled earphone out of his ear and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Whatcha listening to?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, this one really good girl group song. Here," he shoved one of his earphones at her and she took it, grinning unconsciously as the beats filled her ear.

Jisung was doing the dance to the song in tiny, haphazard movements, completely focused. His eyes were trained on his math notebook but Y/n figured his head was somewhere else entirely. If she listened, she could hear him singing under his breath in the low chatter of the classroom.

Y/n huffed out a tiny laugh. A boy with freckles and blonde hair turned back from the seat in front of them to face Jisung. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Jisung, I know you love that song, but Mr Yang said he'd give you a detention if you didn't finish the classwork."

Jisung swore and hunched over his math book. There wasn't much class time left, and Y/n saw his pen scribbling messily over the paper, scrawling equations and diagrams. Her eyes widened. She'd never seen him write that fast in her life.

"There," Jisung said, clearly satisfied as he put his pen down. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a grin.

The blonde boy deadpanned. "And we have to show Mr Yang that we finished it before we're allowed to leave. Why do you think Y/n got up, like, half an hour ago?"

Groaning, Jisung tugged out his headphones with a sigh and snatched his book from the desk, marching up to the front of the classroom. Y/n watched with an amused smile as he practically shoved his book in their math teacher's face, clearly eager to show his finished work.

The blonde boy turned to Y/n. "I was lying to him about the detention part. But I get tired of having to explain everything to him when he could just do the work in class," he grinned.

Y/n brought her hand up to cover her smile. He had a point; Jisung never finished his work, no matter how much the teachers nagged him.

"Clever tactic," she mused.

The boy huffed out a laugh as Jisung came back down the desk aisle with a self-satisfied smile. He pushed his bleached fringe out of his eyes, his freckles changing positions as he smiled at Y/n again.

"I'm Felix, by the way."

Y/n laid her head on her folded arms, trying not to fall asleep. Breaktime seemed so long ago, and Y/n glanced at the clock above the board, wondering when the bell for lunch would go. It currently read 5:33 PM. It was midday.

They should really get that replaced, she wondered idly.

She'd sat through three mind-numbingly boring lessons, having already gone ahead and finished most of the work for the classes. Not that she found the content very riveting anyway. It was amazing how boring the teachers could make a curriculum.

She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and let them droop shut, fighting the urge to close them completely and succumb to a deep, dreamless sleep. She let out a little squeak as someone poked her in the side.

Turning her head and prepared to snap at whoever it was that had disturbed her, she locked eyes with a familiar, smiling face.

Hyunjin.

She huffed at him anyway, glaring at him in mock disapproval.

"What?" she whisper-shouted at him.

Hyunjin bit the corner of his lip and leaned forwards, eyes flitting to the front of the room to check that the teacher was occupied. Which he was, scrawling unintelligible diagrams on the board.

Hyunjin grinned at her and passed her a slip of paper, folded over three times. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n turned back to her desk and unfolded the paper. He'd written a single sentence at the top.

It's been a while since we talked.

Y/n side-eyed him and picked up her pen. She scribbled a reply and handed it to him, eyes not leaving the teacher.

It's been a day, Hyunjin. You're such a drama king.

Y/n saw him fight a laugh in her peripheral vision. He wrote his reply and held it out to her.

So? I missed you.

Y/n felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. She wasn't really sure what that meant. Did he miss talking to her? Or being around her? What did he mean?

She knew one thing for sure. Tapping her pen against her knuckles, she paused, hesitating, before writing out a shaky reply and passing it back to him, biting her lip nervously.

I missed you too, Hyunjinnie.

Y/n didn't dare turn her head, fighting to keep her gaze locked on the much-less-interesting view of the diagrams on the board. Which she had no intention of copying down, by the way.

Would Hyunjin think she was weird for saying it back? Maybe it had just been a casual, chill sort of thing, not a sentimental 'oh, how I missed you so much' thing. She began to panic, her knee bouncing rapidly under the desk. She ran her fingertips along her pen, feeling the ridges and bumps of it as she fretted silently.

Y/n didn't know how long she sat with her eyes locked on her work, though it was finished. She didn't dare look across at Hyunjin, though all she wanted to do was gaze at his stupid face and gauge his reaction to her reply.

Maybe he would think she was just saying it out of pity. Or for the politeness of it. Or maybe he would think that she was a weirdo for calling him a nickname. Shit, she hadn't even asked him for permission to call him Hyunjinnie... Would he mind?

But we've been friends for long enough, right? I mean, we pretty much spend time together, alone, just the two of us, in the library every day. Maybe he won't mind. Oh no, maybe he might. Shit, why did I write that? He might think it's weird...

Hyunjin held the note out to her again between two long, slender fingers, not looking away from the front. Y/n kept her gaze trained on the front of the classroom too, reaching blindly across the aisle. Her fingers brushed his and a sudden chill ran down her spine. Taking the note, she pressed her fingers together around it. Like she could make it disappear if she just squeezed her fingertips together on the paper hard enough.

Biting the inside of her cheek, and trying to calm down her heart, which was racing suddenly for no foreseeable reason, she unfolded the note.

I passed by your math classroom on an errand for my teacher earlier. I saw you sitting with Jisung, listening to his music.

It was cute.

Y/n felt her cheeks tingling, her heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed, the action almost hurting, her throat was so dry. Like she'd been wandering for days in a desert.

Glancing down at the note, she noticed his handwriting had changed on the last sentence, like he'd paused before writing it. Her mind became a mess of jumbled, mushy thoughts.

Does he mean Jisung's cute? Or I'm cute? Or the fact that we were just sitting together...? I feel so hot of a sudden. Is the AC on? Wait, he probably wants me to reply...

She thought hard for a second, pen flicking between her fingers, palms unusually clammy. She let her tongue push into the hollow of her cheek, wondering what would be a reasonable, rational response to his reply.

Before the tip of her pen could touch the paper, Hyunjin outstretched his hand, letting it hold in the space between them. They were at the very back of the classroom, so he clearly wasn't concerned about anyone noticing.

Y/n's mind short circuited as she saw the movement, his fingers flicking back and forth in a 'give me' motion. Wait, what did he want? Something from her pencil case? Her pen? Maybe her book?

There was only one conclusion.

Reaching out her hand, Y/n shakily interlaced her fingers with Hyunjin's in the space between their desks. He froze for a second, hand limp in the air, before his fingers closed around hers.

All of the breath whooshed out of Y/n's lungs, leaving her surprised and breathless. She couldn't think; all she could focus on was the warm, dry feeling of Hyunjin's palm, and his long, slender digits lacing with hers in what felt like the perfect solution to a puzzle. The missing piece.

Hyunjin squeezed her hand softly before letting go. He made the flicking gesture with his fingers again. Y/n was looking at him through her peripheral; all she could see was his hand. He was doing the same.

The realisation hit Y/n like a slap in the face as her eyes locked onto the unfolded note on her desk.

Fuck.

He wanted the note.

Feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment, Y/n quickly withdrew her hand, taking the note from her desk with fumbling fingers and shoving it into his hand. Her heart sank.

You idiot.

She'd just held his hand. Hwang Hyunjin, the star basketballer, the school's it boy with his perfect charm and stupidly handsome face.

Wait, handsome?

Unable to stand being within a metre of him any longer, and feeling increasingly confused about her sudden change in attitude towards her friend, Y/n raised her hand, asking some question about the nature of the umpteenth diagram currently being drawn by their teacher on the board.

The action reset her mind a little and she focused intensely on her teacher's reply, trying to block out everything else. And her mind, and her swirling mess of emotions and thoughts, and the strange tingling sensation in her palm where Hyunjin had held it. Her stomach felt all swirly and fuzzy too.

The teacher finished answering Y/n's question and turned to flip through his textbook. Y/n's heart jolted as Hyunjin held out the folded note to her again, not looking at her.

Her heart sunk even further and she braced herself for an insult or a rejection as she took it, making sure not to brush his fingers again.

She unfolded the note again, eyes flicking across the row of numbers he'd scribbled down.

Jisung told me he gave you his number. Thought I'd do the same.

He'd doodled a stupid drawing of some cartoon ferret next to it. Y/n peered at the drawing, noticing how he'd added a little mole under its left eye, just like his real one.

Y/n kept inspecting the drawing, tilting her head to make sense of the doodle. It was sort of cute. She liked it.

She didn't notice the way Hyunjin's cheeks were dusted in pink.

Y/n made her way down the hallway, eyes fixated on the beams of sunlight spilling into the corridors from the large windows. The sun was always nice at this time of day; all warm and golden. She hoped she'd get home later just before the sun turned to its usual setting; blistering, bright, and glaring.

She didn't feel like going to the library today. Her routine with Hyunjin wasn't definite; sometimes she would sit down at the usual table and he'd already be there, or he'd come in a few moments later, setting down his belongings and scooting his chair a little closer.

Today, he wasn't there.

Y/n was beginning to feel a little braver in not going to the library during all of her breaktimes. It still felt strange to wander around the hallways, hands in her pockets, but it somehow felt more appealing than spending another forty minutes in the dim bookshelf corner by herself, like she used to.

She felt a little guilty for some reason; the library had sort of been her home for most of the year, and now that she wasn't showing up there as often, she worried the place might lose some of its charm.

Pondering this as she passed by the lower levels of the school, her thoughts were sidetracked by the faint sound of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes.

That's right, she remembered. Hyunjin is practicing today.

Peeking inside, she noticed first the brilliant sunlight streaming in from the high rafter windows, reflecting off the walls and casting a lovely, warm glow across the polished court floor. She noticed Hyunjin's smile emitting the same radiance.

She spotted Jisung and Felix with him too, the three boys the only occupiers of the space. They were tossing a basketball between them. Jisung's tie was undone, his shirt untucked, and so was Hyunjin's. Both boys were missing their sweater vests. Only Felix was wearing his, though it was slipping off his left shoulder as he tossed the basketball back to Jisung.

The boys weaving their way down the court with such precision and fluidity that Y/n could do nothing but watch. She stood, transfixed, hands pressed against the wall, fingers gripping the threshold.

They were amazingly, breathtakingly good.

Y/n watched as Jisung took a shot, but he was too far away to make it. The ball rebounded off the hoop backboard, sailing through the air, and rolling to a stop near the door, right near Y/n's feet.

She peeked through the gap in the double doors before timidly stepping into the gym and picking the ball up. It felt textured and unusually heavy in her hands.

Felix waved a hand at her, grinning ear to ear. Jisung let out a happy shout and Hyunjin smiled.

"Yah, Y/n!" Jisung shouted at her, beaming almost as bright as the sunlight filtering into the gym. "Pass it back!"

Y/n blinked at him, then back down at the ball, feeling awkward and unsure. She tilted her head at him, confused. She glanced at the ball again. Did he want her to throw the ball to him?

"Yeah, come on, throw the ball back!" Felix called kindly, clearly sensing her uncertainness. He held his hands out.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n mustered her strength and tossed the ball back, her wrists flicking out. It was a short throw, much to her embarrassment, and Felix jogged forward, catching the ball effortlessly, seemingly not minding.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

Felix smiled at her kindly. "It's okay. Throwing takes some time to get right. You need conditioning."

Jisung jogged up too. Peeking behind him, Y/n felt a pang of disappointment as she saw Hyunjin walking away, moving to his bag that was shoved up against the far wall next to his friends' bags. Maybe he was upset with her for some reason... or maybe it was because of how she'd mistakenly held his hand during class earlier.

"Did you wanna play?" Jisung asked her eagerly. Felix looked at her expectantly, and Y/n took a step back, not wanting to make herself look stupid in front of these stupidly talented players.

"No, I'm okay-"

"Nope! Come on," Jisung took her upper arm and marched her to the middle of the court. Y/n weakly protested, Felix pushing the ball gently into her hands as Jisung positioned her right before the hoop.

"I don't think you have a choice," Felix whispered to her apologetically before smiling cheekily. "We could do with the teaching practice. It'll be fun."

Y/n sighed as Jisung stood several metres away from her, holding out his hands with a cheeky grin.

"So, you push the ball forward and then flick your wrists out," Felix stood beside her, making gestures with his wrists.

"Like this?" she copied his motion, tossing the ball about half a metre.

Felix nodded. "Yep! Then put some force into it."

Y/n glanced at Jisung before doing as Felix said. The ball flew in a perfect arc and Jisung caught it easily, cheering. Hyunjin watched with an amused smile from the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Felix clapped her gently on the back.

"Now you just gotta do that while dribbling. You know how?"

Y/n nodded. Hyunjin had regaled her with training tactics and basketball tricks during their library sessions, so she knew how.

In theory.

Fifteen minutes later, Y/n let the ball fly from her hands, tossing it to Jisung. It made sense now, and the feeling of the basketball's textured material felt natural and familiar under her palms. She liked the thumping sound the ball made as it hit the court, again and again and again.

She felt slightly sweaty, but exhilarated. She understood why the boys always seemed so alive whenever they played. There was something exciting about being on constant alert for the ball, catching it and passing it, and feeling the anticipation hanging in the air as the ball skimmed the hoop before dropping inside with a soft whoosh.

They'd been playing what was called 'two-on-two' for around fifteen minutes. Felix and Hyunjin were on one team, Jisung and Y/n on the other. Felix had proposed they flip a coin to decide the teams, but Jisung had seized her arm as soon as the words had left Felix's mouth with a frenzied, eager shout. That had settled it.

Y/n felt tired and her arms were beginning to ache, but it was the satisfied kind of ache that comes from doing something you enjoy. Grinning at Jisung as he shot a hoop, she moved to sit down, attempting to catch her breath.

She felt so free. Like a bird that had lived its whole life in captivity, the cage door had unlocked and she was allowed to soar through the sky, no limits, no rules. Just her wings airing her up against the current. She wondered if the boys felt the same way.

Felix flopped down next to her, and Y/n panicked briefly. Had Hyunjin told him and Jisung about what happened with the note in class? She subtly pressed a hand to her blazer pocket, where she'd tucked the note inside it. She glanced at Felix, but his eyes were trained on the court, where Hyunjin was currently dribbling down the side, trying to stop Jisung from taking it from him.

"Hey," he panted.

"Hi."

Felix grinned at her, sweaty and gasping. "You're not bad at basketball, you know? Pretty good for a first try."

Y/n flushed at the praise. Coming from someone as talented as Felix, that meant the world. And it felt genuine. She tried convincing herself that maybe he was just saying it to make her feel better about her awful skills but the thoughts wouldn't come, and somehow she refused to believe it. The thought made her smile, a hand coming up out of habit to cover her mouth.

"Thanks."

Felix batted her hand away. "Don't cover your smile."

"W-what?"

"Don't cover your smile," he repeated. "It's nice."

Y/n was sure her face was scarlet by now, but she appreciated his gentle honesty nonetheless. She lowered her hand.

"There you go," Felix grinned. "Just like the sun."

Y/n huffed a little, shy laugh and looked away, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Fortunately, it didn't last long, because she was disturbed by a shout from the court.

Hyunjin was on the floor, Jisung straddling his waist. Both of them had their arms wrapped around the basketball, tussling for ownership amidst accused shouts and loud whines.

Felix slumped back against the wall, rolling his eyes. "This happens every single practice."

Y/n chuckled. "Must get old, huh?"

Felix smiled. "Nah. It's a bit irritating sometimes, for sure, but they're my best friends, so I don't mind that much. And it's funny, to be honest."

Y/n glanced across the court just as the ball slipped from Hyunjin's grip, rolling away. Jisung let out a shout and scrambled for it just as Hyunjin did. There was a brief kerfuffle.

She chuckled. It was funny.

The bell rang.

*texting unknown number* y/n: hello? y/n: is this hyunjin? unknown number: oh hey! unknown number: i was worried you'd forgotten about me haha y/n: no, i just had tutoring after school so i didn't get time. sorry... y/n: but i have time now unknown number: oh, cool, all good unknown number: hey, so do me a favour y/n: ? unknown number: change my contact number to something really cool and awesome

Y/n chuckled and sat upright on her bed, letting her phone rest on top of the duvet as she thought hard. The sky outside was fading, streaking cotton candy across the clouds and melting into a deep shade of ocean blue to the left.

An idea popped into her head and she picked her phone up, clicking on the contact and editing the name.

*y/n changed 'unknown number' to 'hyunjinnie 🏀'*

y/n: i changed it hyunjinnie 🏀: alright, cool hyunjinnie 🏀 i like it :D y/n: well now you have to change mine so it's even hyunjinnie 🏀: hmmm hyunjinnie 🏀: let's see *hyunjinnie 🏀 changed 'y/n' to 'y/n 🌸💫'* hyunjinnie 🏀: there. how's that? y/n 🌸💫: a flower and a star? hyunjinnie 🏀: yeah, because i saw you doodling flowers in your book earlier during class hyunjinnie 🏀: and you always draw a star next to your name whenever we get worksheets

Y/n blinked at his message. He was right. She was doodling flowers earlier and she did always draw a star next to her name when she received class work. Flushing at his keen observation, she typed out a reply.

y/n 🌸💫: i like it hyunjinnie 🏀: i'm glad hyunjinnie 🏀: aren't i so smart? y/n 🌸💫: whatever makes you feel better hyunjinnie 🏀: ouch, okay hyunjinnie 🏀: fine, i see how it is... i thought you were my FRIEND

Y/n laughed and set her phone aside, momentarily getting up to open the window, since it was getting dark. It had been hot lately, humid and temperate, and Y/n wanted all the cold air she could get, even if that meant letting in some unwelcome insect visitors. Her fan was broken, so she had to make do.

Flopping back down on the bed, she picked up her phone, smiling cheekily.

* y/n 🌸💫 changed 'hyunjinnie 🏀' to 'drama king 🏀'* y/n 🌸💫: there y/n 🌸💫: now it's perfect

On the other side of the line, Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head. He brushed a strand of dark hair from his face and rolled to his side, resting his phone on the pillow and propping it up. He typed out a reply.

drama king 🏀: very creative. speaking of, it was nice having you playing basketball with us at lunchtime y/n 🌸💫: yeah, it was fun y/n 🌸💫: you guys are so unbelievably talented drama king 🏀: you're talented too, i've never seen anyone who can sketch like you can y/n 🌸💫: thanks, hyunjinnie drama king 🏀: maybe you could show me during class drama king 🏀: i mean, i do sit across from you drama king 🏀: so

Hyunjin bit his lip. Would it be weird if he asked her over text? Would she forget by the time she actually walked into class? Why was he so nervous? She was his friend, so why did his heart race faster at the thought of spending so much time next to her? Nothing had happened when they were both alone at the library.

So why did it feel so different?

He let out a soft groan, vying with his rationality.

Fuck it, he thought, eyes fixed on the screen as he typed out a message.

drama king 🏀: did you wanna sit together next class?

He waited anxiously for a response. How long had it been? Two minutes? Two hours? Why wasn't she replying?

Gritting his teeth, he chucked his phone onto the bedside. She'd just denied him and now he felt like an idiot. He went too far and now she might hate him for all eternity. Hyunjin felt somehow winded, like the one time he fell over during a tournament game and one of his opponents stepped on his middle for good measure.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Hyunjin swung his legs up, pressing a hand to the firm, flat expanse of his stomach. He'd just have to explain himself to her the next day. The thought of having to see her disapproving glare at his clingy offer made him feel surprisingly disconsolate.

He laid back down and tried to occupy his mind, attempting to forget about the blameworthy device resting on the bedside table. Failing miserably, he huffed and swiped a hand across the table, sending his phone skidding under his bed with a thud.

He'd just try and forget about it for the time being.

A distant ting made him shoot bolt upright. His head spun and he pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing, before frantically checking the floor for his phone.

Dropping to his stomach on the floor, he scrabbled around under his bed and tried to reach his phone. His fingers brushed the device and he stretched, grabbing it with a sigh of exertion. Forgetting half his torso was stretched out under the solid wooden bedframe, he made to get up, hitting his head solidly on the wooden slats.

Hyunjin groaned, wincing, and opened his phone, shuffling out from the dark, enclosed space. Climbing onto the bed again, he opened the message bar and swiped into the chat.

y/n 🌸💫: sorry, the wifi's been cutting out here a lot so i couldn't reply straight away y/n 🌸💫: but if you want to sit together during class next time... y/n 🌸💫: sure

Hyunjin collapsed into the pillows with a sigh of relief.

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

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

stylist!reader x seungmin or jeongin??? any scenario!!

hi hi~ i needed more seungmin and jeongin requests . . . been wanting to write for them so bad but i couldn't think of anything lol . anyway, here you goo~~~

₊✩‧₊˚ stylist!reader x kim seungmin ˚₊✩‧₊

pairing: stylist!reader x kim seungmin

summary: being seungmin's stylist has its perks (mostly)

genre: idol!au, stylist!au, cheeky boy, soft and fluffy, mentions of jyp (yes that needs a warning), please bring back doberman seungmin he was my fav :(

a/n: sorry idk who made this divider . . . if it was you lmk so i can tag and credit u <3

skz masterlist

you have to drag him everywhere

like by his literal collar

or whatever it is that he's wearing

bc this man does not want to walk

like

anywhere

drag him to the mirror, drag him behind a curtain to fix his outfit

it never ends

and he moves around a lot too while you're doing his makeup

more than once you've gotten chan to hold his jaw shut so you can powder it or fix up his contour

and he always stares at you while you do it

with his little meanie face

you know the one he makes where he's trying to be scary but it doesn't work on anyone so he's just like >:|

yeah that one

complains a lot about his appearance to piss you off

'i don't like the eye makeup' 'i hate this shirt'

it never ends but you're used to it so he kind of gives up after a while

when you got assigned to him, he would stare into your eyes while you were doing his makeup to try and make you fumble

bc let's be honest no one could focus if kim seungmin was staring into their soul

but you got used to that too and now you just ignore it

you always get him to tell you how he's feeling on a certain day so you can sort of match his outfit and makeup to his vibe

if he's in a good mood, lots of scarlet reds and brighter colours

if he's just neutral, then dewy pinks and purples

and if he's having a bad day, lots of metallic silver and black

of course his appearance still has to match the other members' vibes

but you always try to make it a little more special

seungmin would never admit it but he appreciates that so much

most of your job is just looking for him to be honest

like man literally disappears and gets distracted by the tiniest things

there's a bird outside? gone

hyunjin has his back turned and is therefore vulnerable to attack? gone

there's no reason for him to go anywhere?

gone

you've debated putting a tracker in his outfit like a literal dog but you decided against it because it's like playing hide and seek

which is kinda fun

usually he's busy doing something random or looking out the window

or pissing his members off

if worst comes to worst and you can't find him, you just threaten to call chan and he materialises out of thin air

which is kinda funny

and when he won't stay still to let you fix his outfit, you threaten to dress him like jyp

that always works lmao

he just goes absolutely rigid and his eyes go all wide

'please don't'

and you'll just fix his collar or his boots or whatever and off he goes again

multiple times you've told him to put accessories on before he goes on stage

but he always forgets

you've had to drag him backstage countless times before the group went on to perform bc he's forgotten to do what you said

you'll have super steady and nimble hands after a while bc trying to clip a chain necklace on a hyped-up puppy boy is one of the hardest things

like ever

he's just raring to go lol

always runs up to you after performing all sweaty and excited

'did you see me? when i did that move'

or something along those lines

he truly is so soft and sweet but he'll never admit it

and you'll nod and he's have the biggest shiniest prettiest boy smile on his face

stop i'm sad

most of the time he sweats all of his makeup off

and then sheepishly bows to you and apologises for ruining all your hard work

but you shake your head and tell him with a smile that it's fine

and it is, really

he looks hotter when he's all sweaty

huh? what

i didn't say anything

yes i did

after he's warmed up to you

and it takes a while, i'm gonna be completely honest

he refuses to let anyone else do his hair, makeup, or outfit

he just wants you

because you always make sure he can dance properly in his outfit, and that his hair isn't in his eyes, or that he likes his makeup

you would never make him wear anything that makes him uncomfortable either

you're always asking for his input on certain outfit ideas and he tells you honestly what he thinks

and you just take his feedback and make outfits for him that he'll be comfortable in

which makes him swoon for you

again, he would never say anything to you about how he's starting to feel

maybe one day, he thinks he might be able to

until then, he'll settle for looking at your pretty face while you do your thing <3

a/n: yomg i wanna be a skz stylist so baddd (seungmin if ur reading this one chance pls)

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

aww @jisunggy i'm so glad it helped 🥺 requests are open if you'd like more <3

cold - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

summary: you had a shit day and jisung helps out

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, heavy on the comfort, angsty, big softie jisung

a/n: if you're having a shit day, feel better <3

You sigh and throw an arm over your forehead, trying to erase the day's memories from mind. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong went wrong, and all you wanted to do the entire day was get out of your restricting day clothes and flop into bed.

Which is exactly what you did, but it didn't help.

Nothing felt right. The bed was too stiff, too soft, your clothes too loose or tight, and the music currently playing through your earbuds was doing nothing to help the situation. The night air filtering through the window was too cold and it wasn't enough to stop you feeling hot. It just wasn't making anything better, and your short temper was beginning to show through.

You had tried the whole day to keep your seething to a minimum, and now that it had been all bottled up for most of the day, you couldn't help but feel upset.

Rolling over, you poke Jisung in the back. He's asleep, his back facing you, and you can hear soft snores coming from him. He had come home and sensed immediately that you needed to be left alone. You hadn't talked to him for the whole evening, and now you were both lying in bed, one awake and the other fast asleep.

Finally managing to stir him, Jisung rolls over in bed, hair sticking up at random angles from the tossing and turning. His eyes were half-opened and he blinked at you, trying to see in the dark. The only light in the bedroom came from your phone, which was now abandoned on the bedside.

You felt bad for waking him up, but Jisung didn't seem to mind.

"What's wrong, jagiya?" he says blearily.

"Sorry, Sung," you whisper guiltily, eyes filling with stinging tears. "Just- I can't sleep."

"Hmm? Oh, why?"

You sigh softly, tossing your earphones onto the bedside and turning to face him, trying not to cry. "Nothing was going right and my temper kept flaring up."

Jisung nods, running a hand through his hair and mussing it up further. "I thought you were mad at me, but I just figured you needed space-"

"No, it wasn't you, it could never be you, I just didn't want to end up blowing up on you. I just needed to cool off but I still feel hot and bothered."

Jisung's already moved to turn up the fan and he lays back down on the bed with a "hmphff", wrapping an arm cozily around your waist.

"You know," he croaks thoughtfully, "When I get frustrated in the studio, Chan-hyung and Minho-hyung always make me go to the bathrooms and splash my face with cold water, and then drink something cold. I always pretend like it's cooling me down. You should try it."

Your voice is quiet. "But it's dark."

"I'll come with you."

You get up softly, moving to the bathroom. Jisung follows a lot less gracefully, and he flicks the light on, both of you immediately groaning at the glaring brightness. You run the tap til it turns cold, and splash your face with cold water. Jisung leans against the counter while you dry your face. He grins, eyes half-closed from the sleepiness.

"You feel better now, huh?"

And he's right. You do feel better.

He takes your hand and guides you to the kitchen, lifting you up onto the counter. You protest quietly but he ignores it, opening the freezer and depositing several ice cubes into a glass of water. He waits while you drink it, and hums softly when you poke his cheek, fingers cold from the condensation on the glass. You both steal a couple snacks and eat in the light of the refrigerator before Jisung lifts you from the counter and carries you back to bed.

Despite the cold face wash and the cold water, as well as the snacks, you can already feel your eyelids drooping. You feel yourself being placed back into bed, and you feel all warm and full and content. Or maybe the warm feeling is just from Jisung's arms, which are wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you close and keeping you in the warmth of his embrace.

You sleep.

a/n: i wish i had a jisung

the fast lane : part 1 (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: not much tbh, skz racer!au, illegal street racing, chan is a cocky little shit, wc 2.5k

series masterlist

part 1 : the deal

The tunnel looked pretty unassuming; a round, gaping entrance that was once a pathway for trains to cross through. A hardly-used staircase leading down into a dirty subway and a copse of half dead trees sandwiched the tunnel of either side. Y/n dragged a finger across the cement wall, a trail of dirt and grime collecting on her fingertip. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she stepped back and surveyed the deserted entrance with a disdainful, skeptical eye.

The mouth of the tunnel was haphazardly littered with graffiti tags, long, sweeping, unintelligible strokes in varying shades of neon blue and green. Y/n's eyes swept across the letters and symbols, following the shapes and curves. Perhaps it was a message, or a warning. Stepping back and then peering into the darkness past the tunnel, Y/n sighed.

it felt more like a warning.

She hopped up and down on the spot and rubbed her arms. The night was cold and the air was frigid; Y/n's breath puffed out in front of her in a frozen mist, like dragon steam. She had no idea why she had decided to come here, and that too in the dead of night. Despite her passion for racing and her love of cars, she'd never raced in any official competitions, simply settling for a few high-speed laps round the city streets at night. But now, here she stood, at the entrance to an underground racing circuit, about to race alongside some of the city's most infamous racers.

Groaning inwardly and pulling out her phone, Y/n swiped to her socials and pulled up the details of the racing grounds. Checking the list of racers and seeing her name near the bottom, she huffed. There was no way she could back out now.

Gathering all her courage, Y/n stepped forward, her black boots meeting the dusty, cracked cement. The ground was scattered with cigarette butts and various other discarded items. She bit her lip and continued into the dark.

The neon, flickering electricity of the city faded away, leaving Y/n to walk through the seemingly endless darkness. Trailing one hand along the wall as she walked, Y/n felt her way to the other end of the tunnel. The details of the race had said to enter the tunnel without using flashlights, torches, or other sources of light. Y/n wondered why, and her jaw clenched as she realised it was probably to keep the police off the tracks of the races. She hadn't noticed any security cameras around the area before she'd gone in; but she couldn't shake the feeling that what she was doing was not really something she wanted to be legally confronted about.

A metallic clattering noise shook her out of her worries. Looking down and realising it was useless trying to see in the dark, Y/n bent down cautiously, hand scrabbling around on the cement, before making contact with a metal energy drink can. Chiding herself for her timidness, she walked on, slow and watchful, eyes straining.

The dark continued seemingly forever; each step she took brought a small haze of light to the end of the tunnel, then faded away. Her eyes ached with the strain of trying to see in pitch black. A small seed of panic took a firm grip on her insides, common sense returning from its brief vacation.

This is it, she thought. I'm going to be lost in the void forever.

Y/n closed her eyes, willing herself to think straight. It didn't matter whether her eyes were open or not; the dark was the same. Choking, suffocating, endless. Her fingertips on her right hand hurt from the roughness of the cement, bumps and cracks sending shockwaves of tittering trepidation through her. Her other hand was clenched tightly into a fist.

The wall beneath Y/n's fingertips suddenly disappeared, the cold air enveloping her slender hand once again. The stuffiness of the tunnel had disappeared, and Y/n tentatively opened her eyes, blinking to adjust them to the light. A surge of cold, crisp air filled her lungs with a low whoosh.

Noise.

Colour.

Light.

Y/n's eyes widened. She was standing at the entrance to a colossal circular arena. Rows of metal-backed bleachers rose in towering, circular rings around the main ground area. A large, winding race track, lined by colour-changing lights wound through the low stadium, disappearing somewhere near the back entrance; a tunnel. Turning back suddenly, Y/n stared through the darkness of the tunnel she'd juts come through. Two streets back, she would never had known any of this was here. Judging by how packed the place was, Y/n would have estimated half the city knew this racing circuit existed. It wasn't underground, per se, but it was a spectacle nonetheless. She'd never seen anything like it.

Several cars flew round the circuit, sending a whoosh of cool, petrol-smelling air into Y/n's face. She began to venture forward, and caught a glimpse of a sleek, red car speeding effortlessly around the racetrack; drifting perfectly around the turns and sending the high-pitched sound of zooming and screeching into the air. Six massive floodlights sent glaring white light flashing and reflecting off he vibrant, decorated surface of the cars and bleacher railings.

Surveying the arena with a look of stupid, dazed, disbelief, Y/n noticed a row of shiny, funky cars on a raised platform lining the right side of the amphitheatre. A throng of people were pushing against the guard rail, cheering loudly. Craning her neck to get a better look, Y/n began pushing her way through the crowd, making her way slowly but surely to the platform. The prominent beats of Japanese hip-hop music, the squeal of tires on asphalt, and the constant, excited chatter of the crowd surrounded Y/n like a fog. The excitement and passion in the air was contagious, though it was tinted with the lingering fumes of danger, risk-taking, spray-paint, and exhaust smoke.

It wasn't just the cars that were colorful; the crowd themselves sported an array of different outfits and appearances. Y/n passed by a man with a bright pink and yellow hairdo, silky waves falling into his face as two girls in neon green clung to his arm. Another had an orange LED light mask on, flashing smiley faces and heart eyes as he sold various items of racing paraphernalia to the tightly packed crowd.

But it wasn't hard to distinguish the racers themselves; they were dressed in sleek leather suits of varying colours, sponsors and supporter logos printed across their breast pockets and backs. Many of them carried helmets under the arms, and Y/n spotted a particular racer, who upon stepping out of a bright purple car, tossed his helmet and jacket to a teenage boy dressed in red. The boy fumbled to catch the items and hurriedly followed after the racer, a bit like a puppy following its owner.

It made sense to her that some of the racecar drivers had their own personal crews. Y/n knew that it was incredibly expensive to hire people for services like engineering, having spent almost half her savings on a three-person maintenance crew for the car she was to race tonight. Custom cars and suits must have been expensive enough as it was without the addition of pit crews and maintenance engineers. The people themselves were expensive, but not in a snobby, regal way. These people had the grime of the streets under their nails and hard work etched into the creases of their eyes. Y/n felt a strange sense of admiration and inspiration settle in her chest.

Finally making her way to the guard rail before the raised platform, Y/n looked past the racers and their cars, ignoring the cheering. She had eyes like a hawk's, and they landed nimbly on a roll-up garage door, which most likely led to the backstage area for the cars, and the private rooms for the racers. Thinking back to the instructions on her phone, Y/n began to move through the crowd to the door. That was where she would find her car to race tonight.

Her crew manager had sent her a photo of it; it was battered and a little rusty, but Y/n had faith in her abilities. She was going to race, and win. And if she wasn't going to win, she was going to place third at the very least. This is what you wanted, she reminded herself determinedly. Don't let anything get in your way. You're going to become a racer, one of the best street racers in this city, and-

Y/n smacked headlong into a wall of something tall and warm. Letting out an unceremonious oof, she stepped back, rubbing her forehead. Her boot caught on a stray crack in the asphalt and she tumbled backwards, landing with a thud on her ass. A low, amused chuckle came from above her.

"Should watch where you're going, sweetheart."

Squinting upwards, and huffing (half in embarrassment, half in pain- her ass really hurt...) Y/n blinked up at the obstruction that she'd run into.

A really hot obstruction.

An obstruction dressed in a racing suit of black and red leather, and with dark hair swept back over his forehead. Several strands hung down, striping his forehead, slick with sweat. He held a large, veiny hand out to her. Y/n noticed a thick, silver chain encircling his wrist.

Suddenly realising that she looked like an idiot, and was probably staring, she reached for the man's hand. It was surprisingly warm, and he was surprisingly strong; he hoisted her onto her feet without much effort. Dusting herself off and trying not to wince at the pain in her tailbone, Y/n looked up at him.

He was a little taller than she was, with sharp, angular features dripping with charming appeal. Dark eyeshadow dusted the edges of his eyes, and a neat slit ran through his left eyebrow. His hair was black as night, sheened in blue and white shades with the glinting cars and the floodlights above. His plump, pink lips curved into a smirk as he let go of her hand. Y/n hadn't even realised he'd been holding it. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"This isn't a place for little girls."

His voice was deep, rich and accented; Australian, maybe? She couldn't tell. Frowning up at him, she fired back.

"I'm not a little girl. I'm a racer."

The man leaned the wall, heavy boots tapping against the asphalt. He grinned wolfishly. "No?"

Y/n pursed her lips. "I came here to race. I'm one of the rookies listed for tonight," her voice faded off slightly at the end, a little unsure. Should she really be telling this super hot guy who she was and what she was doing?

But he only smirked again, exhaling a chuckle through his nose.

"Do you know who I am, sweetheart?"

Y/n bit her lip. She didn't.

"No," she said truthfully. Realigning her moral compass, she straightened her back and glared at him. "And don't call me that."

He sighed and stepped forwards, hands clasped behind his back. He began to advance towards her; Y/n stumbled back. Her foot met a step of some sort and she kept retreating anyway, not wanting to take her eyes off him. His gaze sent a chill of sudden fear through her. He was looking at her as if she were a particularly helpless animal he was about to pounce on.

Y/n gulped. A rush of fear, adrenaline... and something else.

The sudden feeling of cool metal meeting her lower back made Y/n stop in her tracks. Glancing sideways, she realised she'd been backed up against the man's car; though she was afraid, she couldn't help but notice how sleek and beautiful the car was, a shiny black body with wings, and red stripes lining the sides.

Attempting to move sideways, Y/n ran her hand along the low window frame, feeling her way around. The man noticed and placed his forearms on the car either side of her, caging her in. His fingers curled around her wrists, squeezing lightly. He leaned in, smelling of something woodsy and spicy. The boy-smell of gunmetal, leather, and smoke filled her nostrils, an intoxicating yet subtle wave of fumes. She fought the urge to inhale deeply, instead looking the man right in the eyes. Which was difficult.

"Leave me alone," she stuttered, cursing herself inwardly.

He chuckled again, tilting his head. "I've never seen you here before. One of the rookies, huh? They don't tend to fare well in the racing scene. Most quit after the first race. But maybe you're different, sweetheart."

Y/n glared at him, suddenly feeling brazen. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Do you usually pin girls to your car without introducing yourself, or is this a one-time thing? Because I'd very much like you to let go of me."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. A cocky smirk lifted one corner of his mouth.

"I'm Bang Christopher Chan. One of the best racers in the underground circuits, and the best in this city. I know this place like the back of my hand, but I didn't know a sassy princess would be the one standing in my way tonight," he grinned, almost devilishly. "and your name is..?"

"Y/n," she replied, not sure what else to say. She ignored the compliment, feigning an unimpressed expression.

Chan chuckled, a deep, breathy sound. "Well, Y/n, let's see how you race tonight. Shall we make a deal?"

Y/n tilted her head, raising her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Chan's eyes darken competitively. "Let's see if you're made of the real stuff. You beat me in the next race, and I'll get you a car. Whichever model you want."

Y/n's jaw dropped slightly. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"

Chan lifted a calloused fingertip and ran it along the side of her jaw unexpectedly, seemingly admiring her features. "No catch. I'd like to see what you're made of. Unless you're scared?"

Y/n scowled before contemplating the offer. If she wanted this, she needed a proper car. And she didn't have the money to buy one yet. Taking Chan's offer, winning the race, and getting a car of her choice would be a massive help. But she still felt skeptical.

"Why are you doing this?"

Chan smirked. "Not sure. I'm not usually this nice. Look, the next race starts in 20 minutes. Is it a yes or no to the deal, princess?"

Silence. Chan let go of her wrists, holding out his right hand to shake. Y/n slowly lifted her hand, placing it in his. The heat from his hand rushed up her arm and into her bloodstream, and the cool metal of his chain link bracelet brushed her fingertips, making her shudder in a haze of delicious heat and ice. Pulling her hand back, she gazed determinedly at Chan, who only smirked, inclining his head.

"You're on."

a/n: whew! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. lmk what you guys think of the first chapter!

batter up - kim seungmin

pairing: baseball captain! kim seungmin x baseball player! reader

summary: you're struggling with baseball practice until a certain captain steps in to help (or make fun of you. whichever way you wanna see it.)

genre: fluff, college baseball team! au, dry humour seungmin, baseball duh

a/n: seungmin please i need more baseball content... divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

The baseball hits the chain-link fence with a reverberating clang.

You groan and throw your glove down, stomping one foot in frustration. It's childish and dumb, but it helps to dissipate some of the growing irritation building in your gut.

This is stupid.

Surely someone with your skill set should be able to throw a baseball in the right direction. And normally, you would be able to. But for some reason, the throws from the last few weeks have been violently misguided and your usually-accurate hand has somehow forgotten to catch a baseball, let alone throw it correctly.

You sigh and take another from the ball cart; lifting your left knee, you turn before pegging the ball with a grunt at the batter's base. It flies off-target and instead pummels into the ground, to the left of the base. A cloud of dust rises in its wake.

You sigh and take another ball, picking up a stand and setting it up at the batter's base. Adjusting the height, you place the ball on the small cup at the top and position yourself, raising the bat over your shoulder.

Swinging with full force, you bring the bat across yourself and whoosh past the ball, missing it completely. It shifts a little on the stand and you sigh before trying again.

Whoosh. Another miss.

Whoosh. And another.

"Shit," you curse, adjusting your hold on the bat. The grip-wrapped metal is slippery and beginning to warm under your fingers, the rough tape sanding against your palms.

You bring the bat down in a knowingly hopeless, half-baked attempt of effort, hoping to at least knock the ball a few metres away. But when you bring your hands down, the bat is no longer within them.

Blinking at your hands in confusion, you turn and see it suspended above your head, the metal tip several inches from your forehead. Behind it is a snickering grin.

Kim Seungmin.

He'd caught the bat from your grip before you swung. A sudden thought flashes through your mind; had he been watching? All that time, seeing all those miserable fails...

You scowl and snatch the bat off him, almost hyperextending your wrist in the process, because he doesn't let go. You tug on it and he does, and you stumble back a little before glaring at him.

"Shouldn't stand near the batter," you huff at him. "S' dangerous."

"I know," Seungmin replies, not missing a beat. "Should've put that much effort into your swing at last week's game."

You mimic his voice in a whiny, teasing lilt and toss the bat down with a thud into the dusty dirt, your back to him.

"Whatever, Seungmin," you scowl. "I was trying, you know."

"Didn't seem like it. And it's Captain to you."

You throw your hands up, turning to face him. "Play at baseball Captain all you want, but you're not any good at it. Good captains try to help their teammates instead of cutting them down."

Your sharp tone does nothing to intimidate Seungmin, because he crouches to pick up the bat, nudging you aside with it. Huffing, you let him.

Seungmin lines himself up at the base, swinging effortlessly with the bat and sending the still-stationary baseball into the sky. It disappears momentarily and then lands somewhere beyond the fence with a distant, faint thud.

"There," he says dryly, turning to you. "Like that."

You snatch the bat from him, packing as much sarcasm into your words as humanly possible. "And how exactly do I swing like that, oh great Captain Seungmin?" You point the bat at him.

He looks at you for a moment.

Then he grabs the end of the metal bat and tugs, hard. Quite sharply. Since you're still gripping it, you stumble forward, almost into his chest. Your nose brushes his collar as he pushes your shoulder forward, guiding the bat above your head.

Your back is to his chest now, and Seungmin leans down to align his eyesight with yours, levelling his view.

"See that?" He says quietly. He raises a hand, the one not occupied with maintaining your grip on the bat, and points to somewhere in the sky. "Aim there."

You scoff. "I can't hit that high."

Seungmin exhales, a puff of breath stirring the hair by your ear. "You're not trying to hit high. You're trying to hit far. And when you swing, level your grip as the bat comes down. More stable that way."

He says this as his hand places itself over yours, squeezing lightly to firm your grip on the bat. He shifts your hand a little lower and then points again to the sky.

"Right there, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper. He's standing so close.

You level your grip just a tiny bit under Seungmin's hand, suddenly afraid he might take it away from its current position on top of yours, but he doesn't. His hand remains there, oddly comforting. You adjust your fingers a little more, and the bat begins to feel a lot more steady under your shared palms.

"Good," he murmurs. "Just like that."

Seungmin steps back suddenly, backing up a few paces and positioning himself where he can't possibly be hit by the bat if you let go. You glance at him and then at the ball, blinking. He must have put another on the stand while you were busy huffing at his earlier blatancy.

You exhale and then swing, adjusting your hands as the bat comes down. To your tremendous surprise, the ball knocks off the stand with a cling and goes flying into the sky, disappearing. It comes down to the earth somewhere just beyond the fence.

You drop the bat and gape at Seungmin in disbelief.

He looks very self-satisfied; his usual I-told-you-so look is painting the expanse of his face, but there's something warm about it. Like he's proud. Knowing him, he's probably just glad you won't disadvantage the team in future games with your haphazard batting, but you appreciate it all the same.

He stares back for a few seconds, his blue team jersey fluttering in the wind. Yours does the same, but it's disheveled and tucked at the waist where you've been swinging and pitching.

Neither of you move. Then seemingly regaining his bearings, Seungmin flits his gaze away and waves a dismissive hand, his snarky demeanour returning.

"Finally," he drawls sarcastically, though it's a tiny bit less confident than before. "You learned how to swing a bat properly. Congratulations."

You offer a kind middle finger in response, and a sudden, unexpected grin bubbles out of you, a slight laugh escaping your mouth. Seungmin graces you with the tiniest presence of a smile. He checks his watch before waving you off.

"Practice tomorrow, don't forget." He calls bluntly over his shoulder, walking past you and off the pitch. Most likely heading to his dorm room.

You nod and pick up the bat, intending to get a couple more hits in before you pack up for the night. A blush tints your cheeks, your hands buzzing from the brief contact. You feel all floaty and optimistic.

Back in the safety of his own dorm room, Seungmin stands facing himself in the mirror, feeling the exact same way.

a/n: *as we are playing in the distance*

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

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

he comforts you on your period - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

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

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

a/n: comments are appreciated <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, no such luck.

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

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

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

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

"Hey, bunny," he sounded breathless.

"Hi," you whispered, suddenly feeling guilty.

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

"Binnie, are you sure?"

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

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

"I love you, Binnie."

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

a/n: requests are open !

not your doll - (bf!bang chan x reader)

pairing: bf!bang chan x reader

summary: chan comes home upset from the latin american leg of the dominate tour.

genre: reverse comfort, idol!au, angsty, mentions of exhaustion, lots of crying, skz deserve better. reader comforts channie, mentions of delusion, mentions of eating and drinking

a/n: yall who think what happened in brazil is funny, or think it was 'just a joke' or 'fans showing support' get tf off my blog. i don't wanna see or talk to anyone who thinks what happened was okay. leave skz alone, leave chris alone. that man is not your punching bag, he's not responsible for fixing all your fucking problems, keeping everyone happy, or in charge of anyone's but his own happiness. that shit you gotta do yourself. this is so fucking disappointing, i'm ashamed to call myself a stay at the moment. let chris live his damn life and let the kids do the same. fuck yall 'stays'. if you were a real stay you wouldn't be doing this shit.

i stand with skz.

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

"Love?" You call softly, peeking around the bedroom door frame. "Did you wanna come and eat something?"

All you get in response is a muffled 'no' and the sound of shuffling as Chan shifts slightly on the bed. The warm lamplight from the bedside tables spill across his back, highlighting the skin in a rosy, haloed glow.

You sigh and pad over to him softly, sitting on the bed. "I know you might not feel like it, but you need some good food after all that travelling."

Chan shakes his head again, further mussing his unbrushed hair. The curls are squashed and fluffy from him burrowing his head into the pillows, but he doesn't seem to care. Not once has he lifted his head to take a breath of air, and you sigh and push his head gently to the side to do it for him.

He turns his head away, facing the opposite direction; you can hear the shudder from his lungs as he gulps in the fresh coldness of the air; you'd set the thermostat colder, just as he likes it, but he hadn't seemed to take any notice.

You sigh again, running a gentle hand down the soft, albeit slightly dry skin of his back. His duffel bag and suitcase is still in the corner of the room, the zip on his bag half undone as if he'd had the intention of unpacking, but he hasn't.

You'd left him to sort himself out and shower before coming to eat, but it seemed he'd just stripped himself of his outfit and tossed himself on the bed.

Couldn't say you blamed him.

Chan speaks then, low and muffled from the pillow. "I need to go to the company."

"It hasn't even been twenty minutes since you've been home, love," you chide him gently. "Just rest., hmm? All of that can come tomorrow. It doesn't look like you can even move right now..."

Chan groans and burrows his head further into the pillows; you take a soft fistful of his hair and tug it lightly, guiding his head to the side. Your heart lurches.

Chan is crying.

His makeup is smudged; you immediately rest your hands on his shoulders. They're tense as rocks. A black streak of eyeshadow has smeared itself across the white pillowcase, as well as some of his concealer; he doesn't seem to care, and neither do you.

"Channie, my love," you say as gently as you can. You can't hide the worry on your face. "What's wrong?"

That's a useless question. You know exactly what's wrong.

He sits up suddenly, as if to get up, but he collapses on his knees, digging them into the soft sheets. He throws his hands out.

"It's not fair," he cries desperately. "I do everything I can to make things work, and then it all just gets thrown to the side... I can't even open my mouth anymore without my words being twisted..."

You sit there, eyes wide and bewildered, watching this outburst. It's so oddly unlike him to do this, but you know exactly what he's talking about.

"I- The kids, too, they have to deal with all of this, I couldn't wait for us to leave because of what happened at the hotel... They were taking videos of us, videos of one of the kids just standing outside on the balcony, minding his own business, and I couldn't sleep all night because of them chanting, I just-" He hiccups, a tear spilling from each eye like a shattered crystal.

"I just want it all to go right, but it doesn't, and no matter what I do it's not enough," he keels over then, and you pull him into your lap. He lets his lower half kneel over the bed, his face buried in your thighs.

Your vision starts to blur, and a tear drops into his hair, but neither of you take notice. "Channie..."

"I chose this life, Y/n, I chose all of this, I thought I could handle it but I'm not so sure anymore. I want to be happy, and perform without worrying about all of this, I want everyone to just leave me alone..." He's crying freely now, hands gripping your hips as his back shakes, and it's all you can do not to start crying yourself.

That sadness is quickly taken over by a wave of disapproval and anger, anger at the people who dare treat your lover like this, treat his group like performing monkeys at a circus, to be poked and prodded at.

How dare they.

It's not fair. He's right. And you know you can't fix it, make it all better, kiss it healed like you have so many times before. And it's that feeling of helplessness, that overwhelming powerlessness, that makes you lean down and whisper fiercely in Chan's ear.

"Listen to me," you whisper. "It doesn't matter who did it, it doesn't matter if they thought it was right. I can't sit here and tell you I can fix it, because I can't, and neither can you, because it's not your problem, it will never be your problem. You are not their toy. Channie, my love, all you need to do is keep going. That's it, without looking back.

"Forget about those people who pretend to be Stays, who are nothing more than obsessed delusional idiots. I know it's hard. They are so completely and utterly lost in their own worlds, and you can't tie yourself into knots to fix them, because it's impossible.

"I know it hurts, love, and I know it's frustrating, especially for the kids too. None of you deserve to be treated like that, like you have to be filmed and screamed at and all of those other things-"

"But if I don't let them, then they all start hating me," his eyes are teary, utterly exhausted with emotion.

"Chris, you are not a doll," you say firmly, cupping his face. "You are not responsible for everyone's happiness. You are responsible for your own joy. So are the kids. I know you feel like you have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it doesn't mean that you have to take everyone's bullshit alongside it too...

"You are a musician, an artist, not a miracle worker or some sort of magician that can take everyone's troubles away or perform to everyone's unrealistic standards. And as for those idiots who stalked you outside your hotel, JYP is taking measures to deal with it. And he says it's fine if you want to take a break for a while."

"I don't want to," he says quietly, inhaling your scent as you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. "I just wanted to be home with you, and I am."

"Love..."

"Please," he says, quieter. His tears have slowed. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. It makes me angry, and being angry is exhausting. I'm already exhausted."

You sigh and crack a tiny smile, tapping his cheek lightly. Already you can see his resilience taking effect. Nothing keeps him down for long, your Chan.

"I'll let it go if you promise to come and eat something," you say. "Otherwise, I'm gonna call the kids to spend the night here and they'll eat all of the food I made for you-"

"Okay, okay," he groans, heaving himself upright. "I'm coming. Please don't call them, I've lost enough sleep trying to keep them all in line."

You laugh and kiss him. His lips are slightly chapped, and you tsk softly into the kiss as he stands up, taking you with him.

"Y/n," he murmurs, burning hands slipping to your waist.

"Thought you were too tired," you giggle.

He doesn't respond, instead tugging you closer. You reluctantly pull back and poke his side, making him gasp.

He pulls back too, fighting a sheepish look as you stare pointedly at the bathroom door. "Go shower, then come eat. Now."

He rolls his eyes and steals another kiss to your cheek as he heads towards the bathroom. "Fine."

Chuckling, you make your way to the door, heading to the kitchen. Your feet slow at the door threshold, and you turn to look back at Chan as he busies himself with pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his drawers. Even exhausted and upset, he's still beautiful. Your heart sinks a little as you watch the tear tracks on his face glisten under the lamplight, but you don't bring it up. Instead-

"Channie," you say softly.

He looks up, a black hoodie in one hand.

Your voice is gentle, almost hesitant. "It'll be okay, you know that, right?"

He nods quietly, solemn as you've ever seen him. "I know."

You feel your lips curving into a soft but sad smile. "I love you."

He blinks. "I love you more."

"That's not possible," you say teasingly as you turn and head towards the kitchen.

His laugh echoes through the house.

a/n: none bc i'm fucking pissed.

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

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

hellooo, can i request a felix x fem!dating!reader where felix finds a used pregnancy test in the trash can, and freaks because it said positive and thought it was the readers? turns out its not, it was her friends, but he was super stressed and sad the he wasn’t told that ‘he was going to have a child’?(around comeback since that kinda fits in)

this was so cute :( writing sad felix almost broke my heart fr but we pushed through . . . here you goooo~

floral tea - lee felix x reader

pairing: lee felix reader

summary: when felix finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom bin, a few misunderstandings follow...

genre: sad confused felix, non-idol!au, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, piss (i promise it's one word lol i'm not sus like that), mentions of injury, blood, lots of tears from felix aww :(

a/n: divider by @g0ds-f4v-svp3rn0v4

skz masterlist

"Y/n, hey!"

You let out an excited squeal as you open the door, embracing Jiseo. It's been so long since you saw her; the last time you did, she was busy travelling for her career.

Her familiar warmth surrounds you like a fluffy blanket as you hug, and her sweet perfume lingers lightly in the summer air. No greater is the joy of meeting an old friend, and that too, completely on an unexpected whim.

"Come in," you say almost shakily from joy, cheeks flushed from the surprise.

She laughs and steps in. You switch on the kettle and sit down to talk with her as steam fills the kitchen. You sit and talk for what feels like hours, reminiscing and gossiping about almost everything. It's so good to see her again, and as a surprise, too...

You're just about to gratefully verbalize this to her when she places a hand over yours, leaning in a little.

"By the way, um, I kinda have something to tell you," she says, a little nervously, but still smiling.

You grin. "What is it?"

Jiseo laughs, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind it. "I, um- Y/n, I think I might be pregnant."

You spit out a mouthful of tea, spluttering ungracefully and splashing the table in floral essence. "What?!"

She nods, unfazed by your rather disgusting reaction. "Yeah, it- kinda just happened, you know?"

You lean forward, almost knocking over your mug, eyes so wide you're sure you look like an owl. "Do you know for sure?"

She shakes her head a little bashfully. "I don't really know... I just came here to you, because if I was going to find out, I wanted you to be with me... s-something like that anyway..."

You can't help the warm bubble that sits in your chest; Jiseo has always been so direct yet so shy at the same time. Her sentiment makes your cheeks tinge with colour as you squeeze her hand. She's probably terrified, poor thing.

"I have pregnancy tests upstairs, if you want to use one," you say, smiling gently. Her hands are clammy.

She exhales shakily. "W-would that be okay? Like, not an invasion of privacy, or-"

"Jiseo," you interrupt, chuckling. "It's okay. I promise, whether it's positive or not, I'll always be here for you. Now, go piss on that stick."

She laughs and gets up.

.

You carefully brew another cup of tea as a smile ghosts the corners of your mouth. Inhaling the scent of your second cup of goodness, you sit down in your previous spot and let your fingers skate over the smooth wooden table.

You can't believe Jiseo is pregnant. You couldn't be happier for her.

She left around an hour ago, after around two hours of excited screaming, cheering, and tears from the both of you. She had been terrified, but you spent so long reassuring her, and she'd gone home after disposing of the pregnancy test, in order to catch her breath before her lover came home. You wonder how they would react; they're a good person, and you hope that Jiseo feels supported and cared for throughout the whole process. You have no doubt that her and her partner are probably jumping for joy in the comfort of their own little home right now, and it makes you smile further.

You can faintly hear Felix coming through the front door now; there's the familiar, faint thuds as he kicks off his shoes and puts them to the side.

He comes into the kitchen, sunlight spilling across his frame, and you tilt your head to kiss him as he leans down to you in your chair.

"Hey, sunshine," he murmurs, stroking your hair.

"Hi. How was your day, hmm?"

He sighs and tugs off his tie. "Yeah, busy. Not too bad, though. I'm gonna get changed and then we can make dinner together?"

You nod and smile.

There's a brief moment of silence as Felix shuffles upstairs, his footsteps receding as he shuts the bathroom door. You sit and stare placidly out the window, absentmindedly sipping the cooling tea and absorbing the fading warmth of the mug.

All is quiet.

That is, until a blonde-haired tornado falls down the stairs and stumbles over to you, shirt askew and hair ruffled. You jump with a start and turn to him, about to ask what the matter is, but you're caught up short when you notice the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Love," he gasps, a borderline sob almost escaping. "What is this?"

He holds up a short, white stick and you squint, realising what it is.

Jiseo's pregnancy test.

She must have thrown it away afterwards in the bathroom bin.

You get up, holding out your hands, trying to calm Felix down and explain. "Sunshine, I-"

"No," he gasps. "No, you knew and you didn't tell me? You just threw the fucking test away- love, are you serious? Why would you do this? You didn't even think to call me when you found out you were gonna have a child? Our child?"

"Felix-"

The tears actually spill out of his eyes then, and a guilty look sets itself uncomfortably across his face. "But I swear, we were so careful- How could this happen, I didn't even know because you didn't even think to tell me you were going to eventually fucking give birth-"

"Felix!" You cry. "It's not mine, okay? Calm down."

He stops short, stuttering, tears still streaming down his cheeks in shock and distress. "What?"

You almost laugh, but then remember it might upset him further. He's still confused, after all, and he splutters further.

"W-what do you mean, it's not yours? Do you realise how bad that sounds? Wait, do you mean that the child isn't yours, or the test-"

"For goodness' sake, Felix, the test isn't mine," you say, exasperated as you tug him into a chair with some difficulty. His shirt slips off his collarbone, revealing the freckled, sun-kissed skin underneath. "One of my old friends showed up earlier and she took the test, because she had a hunch she might be pregnant. She must have thrown it away before leaving.."

He's silent for a moment, processing, and then he bursts into tears, upon which you just stare at him, utterly confused. Taking him into a hug, you let him rest his head against your stomach.

It's almost like he just got the news that he's pregnant, you think wryly. This is exactly how Jiseo reacted.

"Lix, honey," you say, a little softer. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," his muffled voice comes from your stomach. You can faintly feel tears soaking the fabric of your top. "I was so stressed, I thought we were gonna have a child, and around comeback season too, I was so scared trying to figure out how we were gonna manage it all-"

You shush and coo at him gently, stroking his ruffled hair, askew in all directions. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He shakes his head, his voice sounding faraway from where he's plowed his face into your middle. "I was worried for you too..."

You fight the warm feeling rising in your chest at his sincerity. He's never afraid to tell you how he feels, your Felix. You do feel bad for not realising Jiseo threw her test away and resultingly scaring the shit out of your lover, but you're glad that he cares enough to be upset about it.

Even if he was wrong.

You let your gaze wander down to where his hair is mussed against your shirt, and you can't help but notice the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around your waist, like he's afraid you'll float away if he lets go. You notice a small gash on his arm, the crimson startling against his pale, freckled skin.

You hum as he lifts his face, tear-streaked and swollen. "What'd you do to your arm?"

He sniffs. "I hit it on the doorway when I came down the stairs... I didn't even feel it."

You sigh, stroking the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck. "What am I gonna do with you, hmm?"

"Love me."

You chuckle. "Let's get you patched up."

a/n: listening to zero o'clock by bts while writing this and why does it fit so well . . . ttokki is sad now

Can you do something fluffy with 29 and 45 with Changbin? Glad to see you back!! (JJ)

hihi <3 thanks for the request, it's good to be back! this is my first time writing prompts but it's super helpful actually... idk why i didn't do it before. i know you said fluff but i've been itching to write spy!changbin for so long so i just did it quite lighthearted. lmk if you want a rewrite <3

gatecrasher - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: you and changbin get sent on a spy mission. look i don't know what the fucking description for this is supposed to be okay

genre: fluff, superspy! au, crack, pretty lighthearted, a few mentions of guns but that's it, kiwi hyunjin surprise appearance

a/n: i mean, come on. changbin as a spy? yes.

⛓️ prompts: 29. "I like the way you think." / 45. "This changes everything."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

Changbin is smirking as you reach the bottom of the red-carpeted stairs, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sleek, dark suit. The top button of his dark dress shirt is undone and he pulls the material away from his skin, fanning himself dramatically as you reach to take his extended hand.

He bows exaggeratedly and you swat at his chest, chuckling. You subtly brush a hand across your thigh to feel that the gun holster strapped to your thigh hasn't come loose. You know the exact model and make of your pistol is also strapped against Changbin's chest, sleek and dark and out of sight.

For now.

Adjusting the comm-link in your ear, you take Changbin's arm as you two subtly blend in amongst the other guests. The ballroom is large and sumptuous, filled with sparkling light and expensive items for auction. The guests themselves are dripping in diamonds and glamourous clothing and you fight the bile rising in the back of your throat. These people are so snobby and oblivious.

Changbin nudges you silently and you both take several steps backwards, disappearing behind a heavy velvet curtain. Part of you wishes you could keep walking through the ballroom and admire everything, but you and Changbin have a job to do.

That's the thing about being a spy. Sometimes you want to do things and then your duties tug you in the other direction, the way an irritated owner might tug their yappy dog on a leash.

"By the way," Changbin whispers from where he's situated next to you, "you look good."

"You too, gatecrasher."

He rolls his eyes. "We're spies. We're allowed to gatecrash. Legally. I think."

He tugs on your arm now, leading you to the curtain. You're both here to acquire a precious item; or rather swipe it and bring it back to your headquarters. Peeking out from in front of Changbin, you notice the target item being inspected by a snobby-looking man and another woman.

"What now?" You whisper.

Changbin hums from where he's looking out the curtain above you. "We just have to wait a while until they leave. Then we'll swipe it."

You groan softly. "I hate waiting. It'll take ages for that guy and his wife to leave. Look how much they're yapping."

He snickers. "Some particular intel tells me that woman with the snobby-looking guy is his mistress, not his wife."

You gasp, equal parts scandalised and delighted. Changbin claps a hand over his mouth to muffle his laugh.

"Or," he says, clearly struggling to hold his mirth in, "We could go now and try to fake-buy the stupid thing first. This is an auction, after all."

"Yeah. One that we broke into."

He rolls his eyes and pokes your forehead. "That's because it's our job to break into places and steal things. It's for the greater good."

You grin. "Greater good, my a-"

"Shut up, they'll hear us. Let's just wait a couple minutes then stroll out all posh and try and win the auction for the item."

You smirk and look back out the curtain. "I like the way you think."

Changbin nods modestly. "I know you do. It's very obvious."

"Just one thing, how are we supposed to walk out of here with the item? You have to pay for it and then show your receipt to the bouncers at the door."

He grins. "We'll figure that out soon enough."

You roll your eyes and turn back to peek through the curtains. A tiny, almost inaudible sound from behind you makes both you and Changbin whip around, guns unholstered and in hand.

Hwang Hyunjin is leaning against the wall, dressed in a sleek white and black tuxedo. His hair is startingly different, now a shorn dirty blonde and you find yourself missing his long, dark locks all of a sudden. Not that he looks bad. He looks good, pretty even-

You gulp as Changbin lets out a small puff of laughter. "Hello, kiwi."

Hyunjin just rolls his eyes, his voice a low drawl. "Hello, Bin. Chief sent me to keep an eye on you two. Swiped that pretty target item yet?"

He looks at you as he says the word 'pretty' and you feel Changbin bristle on your behalf. Not that you mind, though you feign annoyance at Hyunjin's subtle remark.

"I don't see you with the item," Changbin retorts.

"Yeah, because I'm supervising."

You fight a laugh as Changbin turns back to the curtain, huffing dramatically. "Supervising. Totally."

Hyunjin just grins and peeks out the curtain too. "I mean, I could go get the item, since you two are content to hide behind here."

You poke him harshly in the side and he bends sideways, glaring playfully at you.

"This changes everything," Changbin huffs. "It'll look suspicious if two of us came behind this curtain and three of us walk out."

You side-eye him. "What now, then?"

Hyunjin's breath plays across your cheek. "Let's all go."

"No," you and Changbin whisper in unison.

He rolls his eyes. "On the count of three."

"Hyunjin-" You protest.

"Onetwothreego-"

And he's gone, sashaying into the crowd of opulence.

"Fucking kiwifruit man." Changbin swears, glaring through the curtain. "Come on, he'll wreak havoc on his own."

You grin and take his offered arm. "Thought he was supervising."

"Not anymore, it seems. We need to swipe that target item or at least catch up with Hyunjin. We exit from the curtain on three, okay? One-"

"Two three go!"

a/n: if i had the motivation i would have made this into a series

safe - skz x 9th member!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader

summary: skz helps you out when you're struggling with burnout and bad habits.

genre: fluff, idol! au, very angsty, descriptions of eating disorders, destructive habits, mentions of blood, fainting, throwing up (nothing graphic), reader is struggling with lots of thoughts, fluffy ending. read at your own risk.

a/n: i felt like it was time to write something that hits a little closer to home... hopefully it helps some of you out. my dms are always open to talk if you need it, and if you ever feel like reader does, please know that things do get better <3 divider by @iluvrei

The lights are too bright.

You blink harshly, trying to clear your vision of tears. Glancing across, you check to see if the boys have noticed anything. They haven't, too focused on the video of the choreography. They're all dripping with sweat, hair mussed, brows furrowed in concentration, and so are you, but you just can't focus right.

Not even if you tried. Because you can't do anything right.

Minho hums and notes down a couple things before signalling to start the choreography again. You move into your position and place a hand on Jisung's shoulder as you all fan out. The music blasts and leaves high-pitched ringing noises in your ears as you dance.

A hollow pang thuds dully in your stomach but you ignore it, instead focusing on copying Hyunjin's moves and moving into the next part of the song. By this point, you've forgotten the choreography and you want nothing more than to just sit down.

Focus, Y/n. Ignore it.

But you can't, too focused on just staying upright and keeping up with the rest of the boys. Even Felix, who tends to get tired the easiest, is dancing at full power, his eyes fixed on the mirror, adjusting and executing with perfect precision. The sight of it makes you feel even more run down and your temples throb when you stand back up into position for the main chorus.

Your energy finally runs out halfway through the choreo and you simply drop to your knees, hitting them hard on the polished floor. A chorus of groans sound out as Jeongin jogs to the speaker to stop the music.

"Y/n," Hyunjin groans, hands on his knees. Sweat drips from his hair. "We were almost finished, now we have to start again-"

He's cut off as a panting Chan waves his hand dismissively. "Take a break, guys. You okay, Y/nnie?"

You nod tiredly and look down at the floor, trying hard not to cry. That awful sour feeling takes a firm hold on your jaw and you gulp, like there's something stuck in your throat. The rest of the boys pay you no mind, chattering and bickering as they take swigs from water bottles and flick sweat from their hair.

Concert practice has been more than tiring, to say the least. Despite the tiredness and fatigue hanging in the air, the boys seem reasonably cheerful; pushing through with smiles on their faces. But being the youngest member of Stray Kids, there's only so much you can take on before it gets too much. You don't remember the last time you slept for more than four hours or ate a proper meal.

So while the others begin to move back into position, you stay on your hands and knees on the floor, gasping for air and feeling that terrible hollow pang gnaw at the lining of your stomach. A headache settles firmly between your eyes and your vision blurs, and it takes all your strength to even breathe.

Don't cry, you tell yourself harshly.

By now, Chan is kneeling beside you, a hand on your back. He knows how hard you've been working, especially since you just joined the production side of things, and he whispers a few reassuring phrases before standing up and offering you a hand.

Your eyes follow him as he rises from the floor, and a sudden burst of irritation shoots through you like lightning. Swatting his hand away and then immediately feeling terrible and selfish for it, you stand and brush yourself off, walking away without a word.

Chan stares after you just as Felix walks up.

"Is she okay?" The younger boy whispers.

Chan shrugs, brows furrowing in concern. "I don't know, Lix. I think she's just stressed with all the concert preparation."

"I mean," Felix begins as the music starts to play again, "She is the youngest of us. Maybe it's getting too much for her, hyung."

Maybe, Chan thinks as he moves into his position, watching as you do the same.

.

The rest of the day is uneventful; you spend most of it running between photoshoots, vocal lessons, rehearsals, and dress fittings for the upcoming concerts. It's all a blur, and by the time you open the door to the Minsung dorm, you're exhausted.

Minho and Jisung are already back from practice, since you'd opted to stay longer to perfect the choreo. Your body had been against it but you pushed through anyway, and you're beginning to slightly regret it as you almost stumble while shutting the door behind yourself.

Minho is in the kitchen, chopping something up; Jisung is lounging on the couch, watching something on his phone. The air smells rich and meaty, and normally you'd sneak into the kitchen for a taste of whatever Minho is preparing, but the singular thought of it makes you feel tense and nauseous.

You opt to grab only a new bottle of water before heading to your room. Minho looks up in surprise; he had been preparing to fight off a nosy, hungry Y/n, but you walk straight past him without even a hello. You do the same to Jisung and shut your bedroom door quietly, sinking down against it without a word.

You feel terrible about ignoring them; after all, they're your friends, but you just don't have it in you today to talk. Or dance or sing, or do anything at all. Everything feels dull and grey save for the hot tears that begin to soak the damp, musky fabric of your shirt.

Deciding to shower, you pick yourself up from the floor after a while and move sluggishly to the bathroom. You scrub until your skin is red and tingling and pull harshly at your hair while brushing it out before slipping on the first clothes you see in the drawer; a hoodie and sweats, all black.

Collapsing onto your bed, you open your phone and immediately regret it; the blue glare makes your head throb so harshly that you have to fight to urge to lean over the bed and throw up. You cover your mouth just in case, though there isn't even anything in your stomach to warrant the action anyway. You take a weak swing of water as a remedy and collapse back into the pillows, feeling exhausted but not tired enough to sleep.

Your stomach rumbles and you think briefly about sneaking into the kitchen after Minho and Jisung have gone to sleep, but you hold yourself back and roll over, gritting your teeth. Someone knocks on the door.

"Y/nnie!" Jisung calls from the other side of the door. "Come and eat something."

You ignore him, hoping that he'll think you've fallen asleep. You check the time; it's definitely late enough for that to be true. You wait with bated breath until you hear footsteps walking away.

You stomach growls more insistently and you press a disapproving hand over it, quieting the pangs as you turn over to try and sleep.

You can go one more day.

.

The next morning, you wake up early and decide to head to practice before Minho and Jisung can keep you back and make you eat something. You know for sure they've noticed the change in your eating habits, so you take a plate and break up a piece of toast, sprinkling crumbs so it looks like you've eaten. You throw the bread into the bin and leave your plate on the table before leaving.

Opening the door to the dance studio, you notice Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin all up early too, rehearsing the choreo, messing about, or talking. Or, in Hyunjin's case, all three. You duck to the side and head to the opposite side of the room, as far away from Chan as possible.

Him being here isn't good; you know for sure, after how exhausted you were yesterday, he'll try and check in with you. And it wouldn't be hard for him to decipher what's been happening; the pale pallor of your face, the bones of your wrists more prominent than before, and of course the constant sluggishness, fatigue, and dizziness that you've forced yourself to endure for the past few days.

You busy yourself with unnecessarily reorganizing the items in your bag, trying to ignore how bright the lights are. It feels like a spotlight.

"Hi, Y/n."

You look up to see Jeongin standing next to you, smiling in a white shirt and basketball shorts. His hair is ruffled, and somewhere in the cold, dead depths of your hardly-beating heart, you realise it's because the boys have been messing it up with their constant affection of the maknae. The thought makes you feel nothing. You are numb.

You don't reply, instead giving him a curt nod and picking up your waterbottle. You walk and place it on the cabinets against the back wall just as the others filter into the room. Jeongin shrugs and decides to leave you alone, apparently unbothered by your lack of response. Maybe he thought you were just tired.

Good, you think grimly. I don't want him to notice, nor do I care if he does. Just leave me alone.

Your eyes flicker to Jisung and Minho as they move to put their belongings down. Jisung immediately goes off to mess with Felix, who is still sleepily waddling across the floorboards to Changbin. You look away, but not before your eyes catch Minho's. He locks his gaze with you and raises a pointed eyebrow, silently questioning.

You look away quickly, gritting your teeth so hard you swear you can taste blood. Your heart jerks and starts, sending a racing thud reverberating through the hollow shell of your body.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

You see him begin to move towards you in your peripheral and you exhale when Chan claps his hands, moving to start the practice. Despite how much your head hurts, and the fact that you can hardly see let alone dance, you're grateful for the interruption, and dedicate your entire focus to the choreography.

Minho eyes you during a slower part of the routine but you don't look at him. Or anyone. The most you do is glance at Seungmin to check if he's placed where he needs to be before you move past him to the middle. Your vision deteriorates and drowns into dizzy black spots with every movement, but you push on.

Your head pulses dully with an aching pain and there's simply no energy left in your body. You grit your teeth and keep going, trying to will strength from within.

I can last til the end of the choreo. Just a little longer-

You exhale sharply and suddenly then, as if you've been punched hard in the gut. Your vision clouds over completely and you briefly panic as you can't see anything, but you find your limbs still moving. The last thing you know before you pass out is the feeling of the cold, polished floor against your cheek, a dull thud against your head, and a panicked yell from one of the members.

You close your eyes.

.

"Y/n. Y/nnie, wake up..."

"Is she okay?"

"Did anyone see what happened?"

"Y/n!"

Groggily, you open your eyes, and immediately hiss from the glare of the bright white lights above you. You're lying on the floor, where you dizzily remember yourself falling. You try and weakly lift a hand to cover your eyes, until Chan's head and broad shoulders moves into view above you, blocking it completely.

You exhale a small sigh of relief, even though the swimming black dots in your vision are making it hard for you to see anything at all. Your head throbs even worse than before; you must have hit it before you fell and passed out.

Even through all of that, you can see the look on Chan's face; half concern, the other half an equal mix of affection and sternness. You can't do anything but let out a weak groan as someone kneels down next to you, pressing something cold to the back of your neck.

"Take it easy," you hear Changbin saying from above you. You feel a pair of strong arms lift you to a sitting position and the movement makes a swelling pang of dizziness shoot through your skull like hot lightning. You feel sick and feverish.

"Y/n," you hear Chan saying through the haze. "What happened?"

You can't hold back the tears from spilling down your cheeks, however dehydrated you are. They just keep coming and someone else wipes them away with a gentle brush of fingers.

This is your fault. You can't even keep up with them and now you're wasting their time by making them take care of you. Way to go, Y/n. Absolutely pathetic.

That same rush of irritation shoots through you again and you push Changbin's hands away from your shoulders. "Leave me alone."

He looks surprised but backs off anyway. Your vision clears momentarily and it's then that you notice all of the boys are standing around you, most of them in various stages of concern and confusion. You notice Felix tightly clutching Hyunjin's hand in worry, Jisung biting at his lip. Jeongin looks upset too, and even Seungmin has the decency to look mildly put out.

"Why aren't any of you dancing?" You say, confused.

"Because," Hyunjin puffs out dramatically, "One of our members decided to die in the middle of the choreography."

Ignoring the younger's comment, Chan places a gentle hand on your thigh. "Y/nnie, please talk to us. We're all worried. What happened?"

You scoff weakly and push Chan's hand away too, even though his warm, solid touch is comforting. He pulls back, looking mildly hurt, and you instantly kick yourself for it. It's Chan. Why did you have to go and do that?

"Nothing," you say. "I'm fine."

He lets out an exasperated groan and there are a few protests from the rest of the group. "Y/n, you literally collapsed on us. And you don't look well at all. Have you been sleeping lately?"

"Yes." Lie.

"Have you been pushing yourself too hard?"

"No." Lie.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"This morning." Also a lie.

"We're not dumb, Y/n," Minho interrupts from where he's crouching near you. "I mean, we are sometimes, but we're not clueless, especially when it comes to you. Please let us in."

I can't.

"Okay," you whisper weakly, because you don't have the energy to argue. You feel so incredibly embarrassed and humiliated.

Chan sighs and hands you a bottle of water. You take a swig before putting it down.

"Practice is off, everyone," he says. "Let's regroup tomorrow. Good work."

"What are you doing?" You say on an exhale.

"Taking you home," he says firmly. "There's no way you're going to keep practicing after this. You need to rest and eat well for a while before you can join back in."

Your heart thuds hollowly in your chest. "But-"

"No buts. Please, Y/n. It's okay if you're not doing well, and we don't have to talk about it if you aren't ready, but we're not going to stand by and let you suffer like this, yeah?"

"Plus," Felix adds softly as he sits down next to you, "It's no fun when you're not around, so hurry and get better so you can join in again."

You look to Chan, defeated tears welling up in your eyes. You spot the slightest waver in his expression, but it remains firm and he helps you stand shakily to your feet without a word.

Minho walks over just as Jisung folds you into his arms, kissing the crown of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whimper to no one in particular.

"Shh, it's okay," Minho says, "Let's just get you back home and then you can rest, okay?"

You nod and let them lead you out the door.

.

The tangy fruitiness of the juice sends little bursts of flavour down your throat, and you sip a little more before placing the glass on your bedside table. You're looking out the window, though the curtains are drawn, and your hair is a mess, having slept ruffled against the pillow for around three hours now. The sun is beginning to set.

Jisung comes into the room, followed by Chan. You look towards them and sit a little higher up on the pillows as Jisung smooths a hand over your forehead.

"How are you feeling, Y/n?" Chan asks carefully as he sits on the bed.

"Better," you say quietly, even though certain thoughts still linger in the back of your mind.

"It's good that you slept a while," he continues. "Looked like you needed it."

"Yeah."

The room is silent for a while, and Jisung lies down next to you, his face pressed into your thigh. He lets out a muffled happy sound just as Minho comes into your room, holding a tray of soup.

He sets it down on the bedside table along with a banana, a glass of water, and a small packet of your favourite sweets before shamelessly flopping down onto the bed, making himself comfortable. Chan sighs before his hand reaches out to cover yours, which is picking at the blanket.

"Y/n," he says softly. "It's okay if you're struggling."

You shake your head, though what you're disagreeing with, you're not sure.

"It's okay," Chan says again. "It can be a lot, I know. And it's completely alright if you just need to take a break, yeah? That's allowed. But please don't punish yourself for it. You do so well and work so hard, and I know it feels wrong when you don't shine as much as you want to."

You stay silent, the sorrow beginning to weigh down on you again.

"Y/nnie," Chan says gently. "You can talk to us, okay? If you're struggling to take care of yourself, or if it's all just getting too much, come to us. We're all in the same boat."

"More like stuck with us in the same boat," Minho snickers from his position on top of Jisung.

Chan slaps the boy's thigh without taking his gaze off you. Ignoring Minho's whine of pain, he leans forward and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The simple gesture is so gentle and reassuring that tears well up in your eyes again, and you thank your stars that Jisung has plenty of electrolyte drinks in the kitchen because of how dehydrated you're becoming because of the crying.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay, Y/n," Jisung hums from your thigh. "We all have bad days."

"Just please, please come to us if you're not doing well, okay?" Chan says. "We all love you very much, and none of us want you to be struggling alone."

As if the universe has magically decided to prove his point, the door flies open and Hyunjin and Seungmin crash onto the floor, followed by a giggling Jeongin and Felix. Changbin stands disapprovingly behind them.

Chan presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "For goodness' sake."

But his words are drowned out by the mad scramble of the boys clambering onto your bed, heaping themselves on top of you in a mess of bickering, singing, and arguing.

Felix presses his cheek to yours. "I missed you."

You exhale a tiny laugh. "I wasn't even gone a day, Felix."

"I know," he replies earnestly. "But I missed you anyway. I wanted more than anything for you to be okay."

"Me too," Jeongin interrupts indignantly.

"Yeah, me too," Changbin adds matter-of-factly as he makes himself comfy on top of a squashed Hyunjin.

"Say you wanted her to be okay too, Seungmin!" Jisung pokes him hard in the ribs.

All you get in response is a begrudging nod and it makes the rest of the group burst out into laughter. Even Chan can't fight a fond smile.

And even if you're not doing well at the moment, you know in that moment that the rest of the members will always be there to fall back on, and the thought makes you relax, finally, your mind quieting and replacing the hollow feeling in your heart with a solid, steady warmth.

You are safe.

a/n: this was was longer than i anticipated