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utopianvoices · 5 years

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paladin (1) | s.changbin

↭ genre: mafia au; fluff, angst

↭ word count: 3.2k

↭ description: After being caught up in situations you didn’t want to be in, you vowed you’d never play hero again. But will your conviction hold throughout?

↭ a/n: whew it’s the first time i’m writing action and i’m not very good at it, but i hope it worked for y’all! x it’s just the first part and i’m not so sure how many parts i’ll be writing but do look out for it!! <3

↭ warnings: explicit language, violence (?)

Sitting at the back of the lecture theatre always had its perks; eagle-eye view of everything that was happening below, nap sessions whenever you needed it, and best of all, not being followed by two hundred pairs of eyes when you have to use the main door to leave mid-lecture because your bladder decides that it has reached its maximum capacity.

You settle into your seat and make yourself comfortable as students stream into the area; your heightened status making others seem like little ants. A few minutes in and you get bored of staring at unfamiliar faces, resorting to doodling flowers and stickmen on the first page of your clean notebook.

“Maybe I should have applied to be an art major,” you mutter to yourself, admiring your doodle when a voice speaks up from the left of you.

“You’d have to submit a portfolio during application and no one in their right mind is going to let you into the course.”

Rolling your eyes, you shut your notebook with a ‘snap’, turning to face the person who had the guts to insult your masterpiece.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Seo ‘Shit Hands’ Changbin,” you scoff, taking a good look at the boy beside you, staring him down as he puts his bag onto the ground and takes his seat beside you. “You’re early to lecture today. That’s a first.”

"I can be responsible sometimes,” was the answer you received.

Seo Changbin—your friend from college whom you had the same classes with—never turned up more than necessary. He wasn’t what you would consider a close friend, who you shared insignificant feelings and problems to, but he was friend enough that you could complain about your lecturer’s horrible skills and terrible planning when it came to assignments.

He was also friend enough for you to be worried about the bruises that covered his knuckles and cheekbone. The colour of the bruises was a clear purplish-blue, indicating that he had acquired them very recently; most probably a day or two before.

“Are you alright?” you ask, eyes filling with worry as you run them over his bruises. “Those look nasty.”

Immediately realising that you had set eyes on his bruises, he turned his face away and hid his hand in his lap, letting out a quick “it’s nothing” before turning the pages of his notes—in hopes of making it look like he was busy studying the material—and you were smart enough to drop the topic as quickly as you had brought it up because it was clear to you that he didn’t want to talk about it.

With perfect timing, you hear the boring voice of your professor flood the lecture hall, making you sigh out loud.

“I swear, he has to be a siren or something. His voice puts you right to sleep but then he also tries to kill you because of it,” you say, hoping your lame joke was enough to extinguish the awkward silence that was hanging in the air between Changbin and you. And it worked.

It was only for a second, but you were sure you saw the corners of his lips lifting.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

It was a Thursday night; which also meant that it was grocery night.

The only reason you chose to go grocery shopping on Thursdays was so that you could spend your Friday and weekends snacking and binge-watching your favourite shows without any unneeded movements. Thursdays were also the best day for grocery shopping because of the many sales the store was offering, to get rid of old stocks before replacing them with new items so that they can increase prices over the weekend. After all, you were a broke college student who was just trying to save money whenever you could.

"That would be 25.30." The cashier’s monotonous voice reaches your ears, putting robots to shame. Poor chap—he was probably doing a full day shift, dealing with snobby idiots and bratty children.

Usually, you wouldn’t have bothered when someone else was in a bad mood, but thinking of your favourite show that was waiting for you paired with a miraculous lack of assignments, you throw the cashier a smile and wish him a good night, earning a surprised glance from him. It definitely wasn’t everyday cashiers were wished a good day; usually people just tapped their foot impatiently, waiting to whisk their bags and leave.

Satisfied with the surprised look on his face, you collect your bags and walk out of the store, a bounce evident in your step as you swing your bags back and forth. With nothing else to entertain you for the 15-minute walk back to your apartment, you start to sing your favourite songs. Loudly.

Halfway through your self-concert, you start to take notice of the smallest things happening around you: It is a breezy night out; branches on trees swaying side to side freely with the trust that it was safely attached to the sturdy trunk anchored deep down into the soil. The wind combs through your hair as the stars twinkle brightly in the night sky, seemingly winking at everyone cheekily as they walk under them. The moon, seemingly irritated by the stars, illuminates the area brightly, causing the stars to disappear momentarily, but providing the people who were out on the streets with more comfort and a higher sense of security. Simply put, it is a beautiful night.

But while you were busy admiring the smallest things around you, you fail to notice that your beautiful night was about to be destroyed.

“So should I give up but really can I give up we live in a -” You’re abruptly cut off as someone roughly shoves you out of the way, causing you to drop your grocery bags, your groceries spilling out of the bag. You cursed under your breath when you realised you were just a few metres away from your home.

If only I had walked slightly faster... Maybe it’s time to hit the gym.

Just then, from the corner of your eyes, you manage to catch flashes of black running past you, each shouting incoherent words.

With the annoyance of being pushed out of the way so close to your home and seeing your groceries spilt all out on the road, you open your mouth to shout at the group of men when you finally grasp what one of the men was saying, causing your blood to run cold.

“I think he ran into that alley! Quickly, fuck, we’ve got to finish him today or we won’t get another chance to!”

Finish..... him?

You stand rooted to the ground as the words continuously echo in your ears. There was going to be a murder happening in the alleyway seven metres away from you and you were going to be the only one who knows about it.

The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just walk straight ahead and into the safety of your home which meant that you were less likely to be murdered; but the other reckless part of your brain was tapping into the humane part of you, telling you that you would be as bad as the murderers if you left the poor soul alone without even trying to help.

Damn you, rational part of my brain.

With your mind clearly made up, you walk slowly towards the alleyway, gripping your grocery bags tightly so that the plastic does not create any rustling noises that would give away your unwanted presence. Sticking out your head as much as you could without being seen, you slowly take in the sight in front of you.

There were four men—who very much resembled heavyweight champions— crowding around a shorter man, who fell short by a large margin in comparison to the other four. His blonde hair blending in effortlessly with his pale skin, almost making it seem like he was emitting a glow in contrast to the dark alleyway. With the way you saw the four men cornering the smaller man, you knew that he stood no chance that night.

At the sound of the men’s voices, your ears perk up, trying to catch as much as you could.

“...Boss is going to be really happy...”

“...there is no way you can escape now since you’re alone...”

“... SKZ is about to lose their leader...”

Panic fills you once again as you realise that you were running out of time to help the blonde man. Unable to hear his response (”it was probably just him begging for mercy,” you thought), you bravely—or some would say, dumbly—call out to the group in the alleyway, finally revealing yourself at the entrance, hands gripping the plastic bags.

“Hey!”

At the sound of your voice, five heads turn towards you almost simultaneously. If this was any other situation, you were sure you would have laughed out loud. But now that you knew the gravity of the situation, all you could do was gulp and pretend you were strong so that some miracle could happen and you could live to the ripe old age of 80 with the love of your life and five children.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Starting to freak out at the tone of one of the men, you curse yourself out in your head for not thinking of a proper plan before jumping in to save that man. Frantically, your hands search your jeans and jacket when you feel a bottle in the jacket that you didn’t bother to clear out before wearing it out for grocery shopping.

Pepper spray.

Feeling braver almost instantaneously, you clear your throat and call out to the men loudly, making sure they couldn’t hear the distinct quiver in your voice.

“Let the man go,” you say as loudly as you could, fists curling into balls to make sure no part of you gave away the fact that you were shaking on the spot. “Now.”

Unsurprisingly, you’re met with loud guffawing, the four men clearly thinking you were a joke. A pawn that could be destroyed with just one move.

And they weren’t wrong.

“Let the man go or what? What are you gonna do, little bitch? Go cry to mummy?” one thug asked, triggering another round of laughter from the other three. “Well now that you’re you’ve seen us, we’ll just have to take care of you after we’re done with this scum over here.”

As he says that, you see another thug pull out what looked a lot like a knife, the silver glimmering under the strong moonlight. All you had to do was turn on your heel and run out as fast as you could without looking back and you had a chance of surviving, but your feet were not cooperating. It was like all thought was wiped out from your brain—including the knowledge of how to coordinate your limbs to get you the fuck out of there.

As the knife was passed to the thug holding the blonde man down, you instinctively rush forward, swinging your bags around in hopes of inflicting some kind of pain that will give the both of you some leeway to get out of that alley.

The resounding sound of metal hitting a surface rings in your ear, followed by a loud “Ouch”, satisfying you as your planned seemed to be working.

Dropping your groceries and grabbing the blonde man’s hand, your other free hand grabs the pepper spray out of your pocket, and you blindly spray it around in unnecessary amounts, running out of the alley with the man when you’re sure you’ve blinded at least one of the thugs.

Dragging the man behind you, you run as fast you can towards your apartment, not sparing a second glance behind you in fear that the thugs would be there.

You fumble with your keys and practically jam the right one into the keyhole, throwing the door open and locking yourselves in.

Hunching over in pain due to a nasty stitch you acquired from the sudden exercise, you finally get a good look at the blonde standing in front of you.

He wasn’t very tall—definitely average—albeit still taller than you. Some might have mistaken him for Snow White with how pale he was. He was wearing an all black outfit, causing his skin and hair to stand out a lot more than usual.

With how much you were analysing him, you fail to notice the hard stare he was giving you.

“Are you stupid?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. No heartfelt “thank you for saving my life”. None of that. Just him questioning the functionality of your brain.

“Excuse me?!”

Stitch forgotten, you straighten your back while staring at the ungrateful idiot in front of you, mouth agape. You risked your life to save this asshole, and this is the gratitude you receive?

“I said what I said. I could’ve easily taken care of them and you ruined everything,” he deadpans, walking up and down your carpeted floor, massaging his temple. “Are you always this dumb, or did you just forget to drink your smart juice today? I mean, which dumbass just rushes into a dark alleyway without any help whatsoever?”

“Hey, you better watch it!” you finally retort loudly. “Of course I didn’t stop to think, you were in fucking danger! Be grateful I even stepped in to try and help when I could have just walked away and let you take those 4 thugs by yourself. You wouldn’t even have stood a chance.”

He looks at you with flashing eyes right as you finish your angry speech; and you don’t have to try too hard to imagine the steam shooting out of his ears.

Just as he opens his mouth to fire another sarcastic comment, a series of loud bangs resound throughout your apartment. Your head shoots up towards your door, as the realisation dawns on you

Someone was trying to break down your door.

You rush over to the window and peek through the curtain and to your horror, you see the four thugs you had encountered—together with another four new men. They were back and definitely angrier than before.

“We’re gonna die!” you whisper-shout, shaking the man’s hand frantically as you look up at him. “I should’ve just left you in the alleyway.”

He rolls his eyes as he looks at you, pushing your hand off of him as he surveys your apartment.

“You go over and hide under that table over there.” he says, as he points to your desk that was tucked away far into the corner. “Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

You obediently nod and rush over to your table, wincing as you hear the door struggling to keep itself together, pieces of wood dropping onto your carpeted floor.

It’s gonna cost me a bomb to fix that...

Quickly crouching under your table as far as you could, you watch as blondie (that’s what you decided to call him until you find out his name) opens the door for the eight men, smirk ever-present on his face.

Why is that idiot smirking?! He’s about to get killed and he’s smirking?

“Now, why don’t we skip the part where you yack till my ear bleeds and get on with the fight?” blondie asks, an air of confidence and pride surrounding him.

Without any warning three men rush towards him at the same time, flicking out knives and other weapons that you had never before seen in your life. Unable to watch the gruesome scene that was awaiting to happen, you shut your eyes tight, relying on your sense of hearing to alert you.

You hear the clattering of knives, shortly followed by the sound of skin on bone contact, and finally, you hear the thud of human bodies hitting your floor.

Without opening your eyes, you hear the sound of feet walking towards you, causing you to push yourself against the wall, hoping the thugs don’t find you under the table. You weren’t the best at handling pain, and you definitely didn’t want to know what was going to happen if they catch you.

Instead of rough hands pulling you out from your hiding place as you had expected, you are met with soft hands grabbing your wrist, slowly pulling you out of your hiding place. You finally open your eyes, and you’re shocked by the scene that met you.

All eight thugs were laying on the ground, some groaning in pain, while some were deadly still. You really didn’t want to know what had happened to those who weren’t moving.

“I told you I could handle it.”

Your eyes snap up towards the man beside you, your perspective of him completely changing as you view him in a different light.

He no longer looked like a man who needed saving in your eyes. Instead, you could sense an aura of danger surrounding him. You imagine him sitting at the top of the throne, crown high on his head, as he ordered people left and right. Suddenly, you’re not sure who the most dangerous man standing in the room was anymore.

“W-who are you?” you finally manage to stutter out, unconsciously taking a few steps away from him, wanting to put more distance between the both of you.

“I’m the man that just saved your life, so some gratitude would be nice,” he taunts, hinting at your earlier conversation. “My name is Bang Chan, and I am also the leader of the most sought after gang, SKZ. But you can call me Chan.”

Taking in as much as you could from that few words he had just uttered, the last thing you remember is whispering an “oh my God”, before falling to the ground, your surroundings turning black.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

You wake up to the sound of whispering all around you, your eyes squinting because of the bright light situated right above you. You whine out loud— annoyed that your rest had been interrupted by the constant whispering— abruptly being met with silence.

Raising your head slowly, you look around the place, expecting to be met with your blue curtains drawn fully, and your cluttered vanity, but instead you’re met with deep red curtains and nine people staring down at you; seven very unfamiliar and curious faces, and two familiar and worried faces.

As your brain registers the two familiar faces in front of you, you sit up quickly, dread filling you as memories of what happened before you passed out comes rushing in.

Just then, you realise who that one familiar face belonged to.

“They kidnapped you too?!” you scream at your college friend, immediately rushing over to him and pulling him away from the rest of them. “Are you hurt?”

As you are busy running your eyes over him, Changbin shifts around uncomfortably, trying to think of ways to break the news to you.

“U-uh Y/n... They didn’t kidnap me,” he starts, catching your attention. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, waiting for him to then explain what the fuck he was doing there if he wasn’t kidnapped like you were. “I’m part of the gang, Y/n. I’m part of SKZ.”

#skz-writersnet #skzwriters #district9net #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #seo changbin imagines #seo changbin scenarios #seo changbin #dee scribbles

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hoodiehan · 5 years

Video

“Saranghaeyo baby... Hehe, ᵇᵃᵇʸ? Hehehe :D”

#stray kids #yang jeongin #straykidznet #district9net #thekpopnetwork #asgkhj he's so pREICOUS #i've really looped this video like... 100 times already aasghk i love jeongin ugh fat uwus #jeongin

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han-and-kai · 6 years

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Jisung when he turns 18 one day before Felix:

“FOR THESE 24 HOURS I AM YOUR SUPERIOR”

Jisung and Felix when they turn 18 one week before Seungmin:

SM: “Hey Hannie-” J: “eXUSE ME? FELIX DID YOU SEE THE DISRESPECT?” F: “Oh my gosh, no manners toward your hyungs, smh” SM: “I will drop kick both of you”

#shut up mari #stray kids #straysunshinesnet #straykidsnetwork #district9net #shit post #han #han jisung #jisung stray kids #han stray kids #felix #lee felix #felix stray kids #seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin stray kids

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leeknown · 5 years

Photo

seungmin on super intern teaser

#seungmin #stray kids #district9net #我：works

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chrisbbaegopayo · 5 years

Text

Hold Your Breath (Stray Kids: Stalker AU) ➻ Prologue

Genre: Thriller, Angst, Gore, Mystery, Suspense Characters: Stray Kids, OCs Word Count: 2.4k Warning: This story will contain elements of gore, on- and off-screen abuse, torture, mental illness, and stalking. It will feature themes that are not suitable for all ages, readers discretion is advised. Each chapter will have its own specific warning.

The story takes place in the main character's third year of university. The prologue will detail information before the story takes place.

------

The day had gone completely how she expected—a roster of classes, school work, and downtime. Her mundane life, for lack of a better word, was ordinarily plain. When classes end, she would find herself in a deep pit of homework. When the weekends rolled by, and when all her school work had been done and filed, she would marathon her favourite movies on Netflix. Oftentimes, she would be in the company of her best friend, Jisung, and the two would tackle her long and seemingly endless list of need-to-watch television shows and films.

Her life was as ordinary as it could get, and she wouldn't have it any other way. The school year had started off without a hitch, and with her organized lifestyle, graduation didn't seem too far away nor impossible. Her first year at the university came as fast as passed, followed by her second year, which flew past her just as fast. She maintained her average all throughout her academic career and was an overall great student. She enjoyed her classes almost as much as her teachers appreciated her as a student.

However, what she didn’t account for was the introduction of random gifts that had found themselves in her locker that she rented, and although a kind gesture, the sender seemed quite persistent. She had never used any of the presents she was given and opened a couple before she left them inside her locker altogether. The first one arrived a year prior, during exams, at first, she thought it was her friends, but upon opening the presents, she quickly scratched that out considering how unrelated it was to her school life.

She also asked some classmates if they had seen the person who placed the presents in her locker, but no one had seen anything of the sort. After that, friends often teased her for it, all in good fun, of course. Supposed that she did laugh along with them, part of her felt a little unsettled by the entire ordeal. However, she chalked that up to mere paranoia and brushed it off.

Days had passed since she received her first present and for a long time, it had been radio silence. And then the week after that, she received another present. It seemed innocent enough, just lying there inside her locker, waiting for her to open it. She thought about it for a moment but decided against it. It would wait until she finished classes.

The present had been innocent enough like she had thought, and like the previous present that she had received, she made sure she never used it, preferring to keep it at the back of her locker. The present never harboured any malicious intent end it was just like any other present that people would receive, but the unsettling undertone of the presents bothered her nonetheless.

The presents just kept on coming every single week and she kept on having to open them and storing them in the back of her locker every week as it came. She never noticed a pattern in the present, until one day, one of the presents was accompanied by a letter.

It was the most unsettling letter she had ever received.

The content of the letter read as follows:

“You blew my mind ever since I laid my eyes on you. Some things need not be said, but I think it’s plainly obvious that I am very taken by you, your appearance, and your soul. But, as every gift I endowed you with goes unnoticed, untouched, and uncared for, it stands to reason that you don’t feel the same…

...but no matter, I’ll make you mine. But in the meantime, I’ll continue to shower you with gifts all the same, hopefully, you’ll come to love them as much as I love you.”

Every word seemed heavy in her mind, her heart pace quickened as she realized what she had been reading. It wasn’t just some regular letter from a secret admirer, this was written wÇith intent. She wasn’t sure whether the person who wrote this letter would act upon his words, but one thing was for sure, it wasn’t normal.

This guy wasn’t normal.

But at the same time, she didn’t need to invoke this guy’s ire just because of a hunch. Perhaps someone was pulling a prank on her, and decided to go with some really creepy prose. She wasn’t going to sit idly and let whatever happen just happen—that was how people die during creepy horror movies—she would be on alert, and at the same time, keep others from being involved in this. Plus, if her friends saw this, they would either report this or maybe tease her because, look, such bad prose. Who wrote this anyway? Someone obviously spent a little too long watching creepy stalker movies or something—although that would account to teasing the guy who wrote it, not really her—but regardless.

Hence.

She would put this at the back of her locker, like the rest of her gifts from him. She hoped that someone just randomly chose her as the victim of a bad prank and nothing more—trying to elicit a response from her. If it was, it was an elaborate one and hopefully, after this creepy letter, she would go about her normal life.

Little did she know that while she was a victim, this would be no prank, and the presents would just keep coming, as the letter suggested. Despite that, though, her life had been rather blissful, and the presents would only be limited to her school life. Everything else was still her sanctuary, and only she would know of the entire ordeal. She would still go about her every day seemingly unaffected by this new addition in her life because she didn’t know for certain whether it would develop into a problem she couldn’t handle.

Regardless, she never told anyone, not even her best friend. It’s her problem—no one else’s.

And true to the letter, the presents kept on coming, and coming, and coming. It bothered her and wore her down seeing her locked filled with presents every week. They weren’t cheap presents either, they looked like they might have cost the person a pretty dime or two—money that could have been spent on other things, not on her, knowing that she would never use them properly.

She decided to write her own little letter as a way to tackle the buildup of things she didn’t use. In which she told the sender to stop leaving her presents as it was a little too much—obviously, calling it a little seemed like an understatement as it was quite clear that the abundance of wrapped boxes because a major portion of what hogged up her space, leaving her with little room to maneuver through her own things previously-stored in there.

Hopefully, the person would get the message and let up the excessive gift-giving, and maybe even put an end to this entire silly ordeal—of course, only she would call it silly—she crossed her fingers and hoped for the best, as it really was the only thing she could do at this point.

She tore a page from her notebook and wrote, “whoever has been sending me gifts, please stop. While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s a little too much.”

She stared at the note she just wrote, and for a long time, wasn’t sure whether it would come off as strange or even rude. In the end, she contributed her anxiety to overthinking. She would leave the little note in her locker for next time the gift-bearer left something in her locker. She folded the note in half, and then in half again, and on the front-facing surface, she wrote, “to my anonymous gift-bearer.”

She felt a little silly about having to do this. It’s like she was asking for more interaction from the anonymous gift-bearer. However, what was done was done, and she wouldn’t twist herself into a mess thinking about it further. It was a step in the right direction, she hoped.

With that thought, she closed the door on her locker and then left. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a better day and she wouldn’t have to deal with a reply. Or more presents. Both would be great, together.

Her dubbed “anonymous gift-bearer” never got her note.

Her friends discovered her note the day after during one of their routine debriefing sessions in the mornings. The curiosity was almost immediate as she tried to stop her friends from taking it, but was unable to do so. There was a moment of silence and suspense after her friends glanced through the note, and she wanted to hide. The last thing she wanted to do was to make her problem everyone else’s problem.

Her friends looked up from the note, the concern deeply evident on their faces, and it wasn’t one of those superficial expressions—their deep disturbance embedded within the looks of concerns, to varying degrees spread across each other her friends’ faces. It was official, if she didn’t defuse the situation immediately, they would start some form of intervention. And she did not need an intervention at this point in time. She was never really that good with lying under pressure—she was worried that she would say the wrong things at the wrong time. If she knew what her friends were capable of, they’d hire bodyguards or something.

Okay, not that extreme. They would probably bug the door, put a hidden camera in there. But then again, none of them were ever tech-savvy enough to deal with this kind of thing.

That wasn’t the point here, obviously.

The bottom line was that she didn’t need her friends to become needlessly worried about something that might just turn out to be some stupid prank that some kid did for fun. Regardless, she’d rather deal with this situation herself than to involve her friends. And should this be some malicious intent—if that letter from the gift-bearer was any indication—it would put her friends in harm’s way.

There was no way she could do that.

“It’s nothing,” she began confidently, as she hoped that her voice would be strong enough to put any concern away.

“Don’t worry.”

That did little to dissuade their concern, and the wary stares only turned grimmer. This was not what she wanted.

“Really, really, I have it under control. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad prank.” She tried again, although this time, the confidence seemed to waver.

That response seemed to be the one to put her friends at ease, although the worrying stares did not part their ways with her friends’ faces. It was still there, although they seemed a little more satisfied with her answer this time. However, her relief was short-lived as the friend who stood in front of her spoke up, still clearly on edge.

“Look, I respect your need to do this by yourself,” her friend said, “and I get that you’re trying to only contain the mess, because honestly if I know one thing about you, it’s that you hate to cause trouble for other people. But this is a hell of a problem is you have to physically write a note to this creepy stalker of yours. Or secret admirer, if we’re using kid-friendly terms, and trust me, this doesn’t even feel like it would be…”

There were a few chuckles.

“What I’m trying to say here is: if this guy or whatever he or she is, has to be lulled to his or her senses through your writing a letter, or in this case, a note, then this is far beyond what you should be handling yourself. But if you want to do it this way, then fine, but don’t forget that we’re also here if you need us to deal with some really douchey guy who has a really bad taste,” she said. That got a few nods in agreement.

“I guess we could see how this turns out—we’ll play it by ear, this one,” she finished.

Another friend spoke up, curiosity fueled this one, “just curious, what else did this person send you?”

She froze up and tried to calm her nerves. She could not show her friends that threatening letter. That would send them over the edge. No, no, no, no, no.

“Nothing. Just presents,” she quickly replied. She was hopeful it did okay to satiate that curiosity. “Really. Just not school-related gifts, I mean, honestly.”

If her friends were put-off by her answer, they didn’t voice it. But it was darn evident on their faces. And she was thankful they didn’t pursue that path of questioning.

“Come on, let’s head home? Ice cream on the way home?” She asked, trying to lighten up the mood. Her friends agreed.

She sighed—one hurdle crossed, time for round two.

At the same time, she did little to really analyze the situation. Her kind nature only put more strain on herself as a result, and her eagerness to keep her own problems to herself only solidified her future interactions with her so-called gift-bearer. Though if she had told her friends, the situation might have gone very differently.

She might have just guaranteed that her path crossed with her secret admirer.

The seconds were ticking past like a bomb on a timer, and every second that passed by was like a second forward towards her very own undoing. She knew what it seemed like in the movies, she knew how it went, but yet, what would she have done differently to discourage her admirer?

Her words had already left a mark. The note was never delivered, and the gift-bearer never got the message. The note disappeared after a while, and while she assumed that the gift-bearer had taken it. Her assumptions were well-grounded, but she never got a reply, nor did the gifts seem any less frequent for the next few days. A bitter feeling welled up inside of her, and she thought it would be best to just ignore it altogether.

She didn’t even open the packages for the next few presents. She pretended not to see them and pretended that they don’t exist. It wasn’t like the school would be able to set up some hidden cameras that would catch the perpetrator red-handed. The school wasn’t rich by any means, and any attempts at reporting anything would end up being waved away—she knew this, and she figured that the gift-bearer knew that as well.

However, things seemed to have let up after a few months as the presents became less frequent. The semester came to an unsatisfying end, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief—if anything, she would be glad to know that the gift-sessions would come to an end, she hoped.

But it didn't, she would come to learn. It was the beginning of her descent to hell.

--------

Sorry for the long hiatus, I sorta just disappeared. However, this is the beginning of this fic—the one I wrote a premise to a long time ago (read: a year ago). Please stay tuned every week for updates!

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jisungssmile · 6 years

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1 year since hellevator, 1 year with Stray kids

#my post #stray kids #straysunshinesnet #skizlovebot #district9net

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hyunjinsvoice · 6 years

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There ya go, mate!

#felix #stray kids #forskz #skzinc #district9net #mygifs #the first one is such shit quality rip #also why is no one giffing these??#at least not that ive seen #im about to just gif everyone

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han-jiji · 6 years

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•••

*gif used is not mine, all credit goes to the og poster!!*

Member: Bang Chan

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Hanahaki

Word Count: 1.4k

He first noticed you at 13.

You were the prettiest one in the building in his eyes. A new student, you tried to make as many friends as you could. That alone made Chan smile. But when you came over and introduced yourself with the widest smile, eyes crinkling with how fierce it was... he couldn’t help it. A crush started to bloom like the flowers in spring, gently and softly. It took all he had to shake your hand and breath out his name.

When you were 15, you were over at chans almost every day. Your parents had became best friends, and most nights you were found at each other’s houses, eating dinner and watching tv. Most days, he would come home from school and find you sitting on his couch already. Not that he minded of course, you were his closest friend, and you knew not to touch his secret stash of sweets hidden in the box beneath his bed.

Often, you two lay at opposite ends of the beds, your feet at the others head. Neither of you minded unless the other had pe that day and stunk up the place. Rare, but not foreign to you two.

At 17, he took you to prom. You had no interest in any of the guys in your school, all of them far too Player-like for your liking. Even Minho- Chans friend, had asked you to prom and you almost said yes until you saw him look behind you at Susie and her low cut top. You tried your hardest not to slap him and denied him before turning away to walk to Chan.

He had been thinking of asking you but was too scared of what you would think about it. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t notice how cute you were when you smiled, how your teeth were slightly crooked but you didn’t care about it, you were proud of them. Your eyes crinkled as you walked over, and your smile was enough to make Chan focus on you, and you alone.

“Chan, I don’t like Minho, he’s a dickhead and I never wanna see him again,” you sighed before dramatically falling into your chair. His laugh was booming, and he shook you until you looked up.

“Y/N.... do you wanna go to prom with me? Nobody else will go with me, and the way you’re talking about Minho.... I guess it didn’t go well?” Chan looked at you, still smiling even though his heart was about to beat out of his chest. You looked at him, and you were so thankful for him. You agreed, and then started planning your outfits. The most you cared about was the colour of the dress and tie situation- it didn’t even have to be a tie, Chan could show up wearing goddamn coloured sweatpants for all you cared, and you would still go with him.

Chan offered to take you dress shopping but that boy had the fashion sense of a penguin with a mismatching tux, and you wanted to dress up for once. You went with your friend BamBam instead, he was helping Chan with his tux and knew what kinda dress would suit your body shape. Bam the fashionista threw clothes in your arms before telling you to try them on, and then walked to the seats in the changing rooms, waiting for you. You agreed, and Bam barely looked up from his phone as he denied dress after dress, saying they were too slim, to short or too long, too baggy etc. It was the 5th dress you’d tried on, and if he said no to this one then you were going to leave. This time Bam looked up for over a minute before smiling and saying this was the one, to leave the other 4 and buy this one. You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was, but agreed and bought the dress yourself despite Bam saying endlessly that he would pay. He bought you the shoes of course, he had to provide you with something for your big day.

Two months later, it was prom. Chan had arrived at your house a few minutes ago, but you were too scared to go down and meet him, after all, this was prom and who knows if he would be as excited as you. Your mother dragged you downstairs and shoved you next to him, forcing you to take picture after picture.

Chan was giddy and complimented you again and again on how you looked and how your hair was perfect and your eyes were stunning. You thanked him over and over and his eyes saw only you and your smile and your beauty.

Your beauty. You’re beautiful. You felt stunning with how everyone complimented you, none more so than Chan.

Your beauty. His mind was always on you and how you couldn’t be any more perfect than you were that night.

At 17, Chan got his first flower. It was the night after prom, and he was curled next to his toilet on the cold tile floor. The tiles chilled his skull until he felt like it would shatter into a million pieces and there wouldn’t be enough to put him back together but he kept his skull flush to the floor, begging to feel something other than the ache in his throat and the blood in his lungs.

For hours, he lay with his shattered skull and bloody lungs until he coughed up the petals and thorns for the first time and he ran screaming from the toilet, away from the bitter fucking truth that he loved you and you didn’t feel the same about him. Maybe you never would. Maybe it would be easier for him to stop the pain now rather than let the flowers bloom in his lungs and blossom from his lips every damn night.

But maybe you would love him back. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe.

At 20, Chan had a flower every night for you, a flower for every single love he held for you, for every type of love he held in his heart. He saved a petal from each flower and pressed them, hiding it from everyone but hoping that one day you could see the book.

Every day he saw you, you were smiling and laughing and happy and so fucking beautiful it hurt his heart and crawled up his throat with it's claws buried deep down, scraping his vocal chords and making him say “I’m fine, nothing hurts” over and over and and over over over over-

The last time you saw Chan was when you were 21. He had a suit on for the second time since you knew him, and his face was peaceful and calm. It was natural causes the doctors said, extremely natural. The vases of flowers next to him said otherwise. The red for love, the blue for heartbreak. His mother, a kind calm woman, could barely look at you as you approached her, and snapped as you tried to hug her.

“It’s your fault! It’s your fucking fault!! If you loved him, he would still be here.” She yelled, crying as she searched your face for any signs of guilt or remorse. She must have found something because she turned and left, going to find her husband among the crowd of people surrounding you, looking at you in shame and accusing you without knowing.

At 22, you were given his book.

Every page was a rainbow hidden by the ink of his lungs and the thorns of his heart, and you could feel every single one of them pierce your soul and burn your eyes.

“Aster // Symbolises love, trust”

“Pink and Red Carnations // Symbolises missing and admiring someone”

“Maybe one day I’ll get the last flower. The last thorn. They’ll stop ripping up my throat as they come up, every unmentioned ‘I Love You’ and every whispered ‘You look pretty today’. Maybe I won’t want to rip the roots out of my stomach and feel the pain stop. Maybe.”

At 22, you got your first flower. The first flower for a love lost, for a love too late to do anything about.

At 22, you felt the first thorn pierce your tongue and rip your gum until you were bleeding “I’m sorry’s” and “I miss you’s”.

At 22, you cried as you lay on the cold tile floor, shattering your skull into a million pieces and knowing nothing could put you back together again, there were too many pieces spread too thin to be repaired.

#district4419 #district9net #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #stray kids angst #bang chan hanahaki #hanahaki #kpop hanahaki #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop angst

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changlixie · 5 years

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💛💛💛

#stray kids #seo changbin #scbnetwork #forskz #skzinc #district9net #changbin #*niamakesgifs #1k

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stantalentstansk-archive · 5 years

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167crn · 5 years

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{ 08 // 02 // 2001 } ; Happy Jeongin Day ♥ Post Natal Chart edition - gif / gfx battle with my fav 3noracha!

#stray kids #straykidznet #skzinc #yang jeongin #district9net #saltgifs #happy birthday jeongin! mini marshmallow baby akdjak-#you're still a child #this is the first gif/gfx battle me and The Sweetest Falak (3noracha)#please check her post out if you have time ^^

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utopianvoices · 5 years

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limerence | h.hyunjin

↭ genre: friends to lovers au; fluff

↭ word count: 1.9k

↭ a/n: uh, so this isn’t my best? but idk i felt like i needed to give y’all, my babies, something T^T hope y’all still like it xx (p.s also not proofread)

↭ prompts: “I want my best friend back.” - “Kevin is over there.”

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“For the well-being of my ears, stop honking so many damn times. I heard you the first time,” you shouted, as you rushed down the steps of your house to get to the black Mazda parked in front of your house. Just as those words left your mouth, another blare rang in your ears, signifying your best friend’s defiance to your words.

That little piece of shit.

"I swear, Grandma moves faster than you,” Hyunjin called out, rolling his eyes at your disorganised self.

“Okay, Grandma is in a whole different league. That woman still goes for marathons, for God’s sake. I can’t even run a mile without wanting to cough a lung out,” you defend yourself, as an image of Hyunjin’s grandmother flashed through your head.

“Pig,” the boy beside you scoffed, as he pushed down on the accelerator after making sure your seat belt was on — a habit he had formed over the many years of friendship with you.

This was your normal morning routine; your best friend screaming at you to hurry up as you both drive to school, taking turns to play your favourite songs. No words exchanged during this ride, unless one of you had to absolutely insult the other’s choice of songs. It was a time of peace and quiet for the both of you before school hits you full force — and it was your favourite part of the day.

Even on the weekends, when you are free from the horror of slamming lockers and sweaty jocks, Hyunjin is almost over at your house all time. So much so, that it’s weird if you don’t see him every waking minute of your life.

"Oh yea, you know there’s a new transfer student joining us today. Apparently, he’s going to be in your class,” Hyunjin broke the silence, as he turned into the school’s carpark.

“Oh? How’d you know?” you asked, curious. This wasn’t just some information that would be pinned up on the notice board for the whole school to see. But his answer explained everything to you.

“Minho.”

“Ah,” you say, disbelief filling your voice. Lee Minho was captain of your school’s dance team, the one Hyunjin was one. Although being a senior, Minho was really close to Hyunjin, therefore growing close to you as well. That boy was the epitome of a gossip girl, just that he wasn’t a girl. He was the first one to obtain any kind of information that he deemed interesting. Always managed to charm anyone into spilling any kind of information, that boy.

“Anyway, I’ll meet you by your locker after school. We can go get ice cream. My treat,” the boy beside you states, not expecting a ‘no’ as an answer. Not that you were going to deny his invitation for free food. You would never deny free food.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

“Class, today we’ve got a new student joining us. His name is Kevin Lee, and he’ll be part of this class from now on. Let’s welcome him,” your teacher drawls out, soullessly, as you look at the boy standing in front of the class smiling awkwardly. Hmm, cute.

Once the sound of half-hearted claps died down, your teacher instructed the boy to take an empty seat anywhere, causing his eyes to scan the classroom for potential seat candidates. Front seat? Nope, too intimidating. That empty seat on the third row? An ideal place, but the boy sitting next to that empty seat didn’t look like someone who had much patience. The only available empty seat was next to you, and you looked kind enough to throw him a smile as you made eye contact, so his legs carried him towards you, causing your smile to grow wider.

As he took a seat next to you, you lean over and whisper a “Welcome to hell” to him, causing him to let out a soft chuckle and shake his head.

Over the next few periods, you opened up more and more to Kevin, and him to you, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t enjoying yourself. As the school day came to an end, and everybody was rushing out of the classrooms, your new friend and you were having the time of your lives, laughing at each other’s lame jokes and puns.

“Wow, you’re seriously one of a kind, Y/n. Wanna go get some coffee?” he asked, wiping any stray tears that had escaped his eyes from laughing too hard.

“Sure!” you replied, as you took your phone out to contact your poor best friend who was waiting by your locker, after denying Minho and Jisung’s invitation to play Mario Kart over at Minho’s place.

lil shit: yoO jin, can we get ice cream another day? the new guy’s in my class and he’s super hilarious i’m about to go get coffee with him! tol shit: wtf bro, it’s friday and it’s always ice cream day! ლಠ益ಠ)ლ lil shit: aww c’mon jinnie, it’s just one friday!! i’ll definitely spend more time with you tomorrow! tol shit: you better

A sigh escapes Hyunjin’s lips as he slips his phone into his pocket, and turns to walk towards the exit when he hears a distinct laugh coming from the end of the hallway. Looking up, he sees you and your new friend, laughing and seemingly having the time of your lives. A new feeling he had never felt before filled his body, making him feel a hundred times warmer, and he had no idea why.

All he knew is that he didn’t like that boy.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

lil shit: hyunjin!! sorry dude but i can’t make it today! kevin wants to go see that new horror movie that’s coming out! i know you don’t like horror movies so i’ll just see ya tmrw at school! love you x

It was the fifth time. The fifth time that you had ditched Hyunjin to go spend time with Kevin. It was simple, really. All Hyunjin had to do was open his mouth and tell you what he had been feeling the past few weeks, but it was an impossible feat for him, for fear that things would go really wrong and he’d lose his precious friendship with you. So he turned to Minho for help.

“Man, you really got to speak with her about this. It’s gonna end really bad if you keep hiding everything within you,” Minho says, chewing on a piece of french fry as he sees Hyunjin tugging at the ends of his hair in frustration.

“I know I do, I know. But it’s not as easy as you say it is! Every time I see them together, my blood just boils and I don’t even know why. It’s like I wanna punch something,” Hyunjin despaired, as words — describing what he didn’t even know he was feeling — spilled out of his mouth.

“Do you like her?”

Hyunjin froze, his hand hanging in the air as his fingers hovered inches away from the nugget he was just about to pick up. Confusion grew in him, as his heart started hammering against his chest, each beat resounding clearly in his ears.

Did he like you?

The possibility that he had a crush on someone he had known for the majority of his life never crossed his mind; all he knew was that he clearly didn’t enjoy seeing you with some guy that he knew almost nothing about. He also knew that he loved seeing you smile, and he hated seeing you cry, doing anything he had to see your beautiful smile again. He knew that you were the first one he would reach out to, even if it was the simplest most trivial thing bothering him, and you that you would never judge him. Maybe he did like you, after all.

With a resigned sigh, he left out a soft “maybe”, causing a smirk to blossom on his friend’s face.

“Well, it’s time you told Y/n about it,” Minho said. “What? No, I can’t. She might end up hating me,” was what Hyunjin countered with, causing Minho to roll his eyes.

“What does this look like? A sappy romance movie? Get yourself together, Hwang Hyunjin. She hasn’t run away even after seeing you in the morning, she definitely isn’t going to run away now.” Minho retorted, earning him a hard smack on his arm.

“I’ll see about it,” is what Hyunjin says, before gathering his things and leaving Minho alone in the booth.

Walking home alone, eyes darting here and there to distract himself from the thought of you, he spots two familiar figures sitting at his and your favourite diner, seemingly having the time of their lives as they laughed at a joke. Subconsciously clenching his fist, he marched home, all thoughts of confessing to you erased from his head as jealousy took over him.

Let’s see how she’ll take this silent treatment she’s going to get.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

A few days later, the fact that you hadn’t been spending as much time hit you, as you made your way over to his locker to finally see your handsome best friend.

“Hyuuuuunjin, it’s been so long! I missed you,” you said, throwing your arms around the boy in front of you, expecting him to return your hug. But all you received was silence.

“Hyunjin? What’s wrong?” you asked, concerned, because Hyunjin never ignored you.

Silence.

“A-are you ignoring me?”

More silence. But it didn’t last long.

“You are the one who started ignoring me first,” he finally replied softly, hurt evident in his voice. Your heart painfully ached at his tone, as it finally dawned on you that you had, in fact, been ignoring your best friend.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Hyunjin. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ignore you? It’s just that Kevin had been helping me with something that I was worried about and you know-”

“Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it. You can go back to him now,” Hyunjin replied curtly, going back to organising his locker.

You let out a sigh as you wrapped a hand around his wrist. “But I want my best friend back.”

“Kevin’s over there,” is what you got as a reply.

Although caught in an upsetting situation, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his pettiness.

“Do you want to know why I was talking to Kevin? It’s because I had feelings for my best friend and I didn’t know what to do about it,” you stated, finally letting go off his wrist.

“Yeah yeah, I get it, you love spending time with- wait what?” Hyunjin questioned, as he spun around, surprised by this news.

“You like... me?” he asked, pointing to himself for extra confirmation.

“No, I like that locker behind you. Of course it’s you, dipshit.” You said, rolling your eyes once again at his stupidity.

Without any control, the words spilled out of Hyunjin’s mouth. “I don’t know, it could’ve always been Kevin,”

You stared at him, irritation growing in you as you give up and turn away, spitting out a “You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I even trie-”

But you were cut off by your favourite boy pulling you into his arms, wrapping himself around you as you automatically melted into his arms, almost by instinct.

“Well, your best friend wants you to know that he likes you too,” he said, leaving a soft kiss on the top of your head and pulling you even closer to him.

“Who? Kevin?”

∞ end ∞

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