#stray kids bang chan angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astraystayyh · 4 months

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pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

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valkyriexo · 24 days

Text

They confess in your sleep | OT8

ᑉ³pairing; Bestfriend!OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff, Headcannon

ᑉ³warnings; none

Chan ╰┈➤ Watching a movie together.

"You drifted off, huh? The movie must've been too boring for you. " Chan says quietly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender against your skin. "Or must've been a tiring day." With careful movements, he shifts beneath you, ensuring your weight settles comfortably against him.

He remains quiet for a moment, simply watching you with a fond smile before speaking again. "You look so peaceful when you're asleep." His voice is barely above a whisper, filled with warmth and affection. "I can't help but smile seeing you like this." Chan says his heart swelling with adoration.

Slowly, he reaches for the blanket, delicately draping it over you, taking care not to disturb your peaceful slumber with any sudden movements.

"Maybe I should start picking boring movies on purpose, huh?" He teases lightly, his laughter soft and genuine. He lowers the volume of the movie, not wanting to disturb your peaceful sleep. "Your snores are kind of cute, not gonna lie." He takes a deep breath as he listens to the rhythmic sound of your breathing. "I'll resist the urge to play with your hair... for now."

As the movie continues to play in the background, Chan shifts slightly, adjusting his position until he's resting his head gently on top of yours, his heart beating in sync with yours. "I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to...I hope you're having sweet dreams."

Minho ╰┈➤ In a waiting area

"Someone's tired." Minho's voice is soft, filled with a gentle warmth as he observes you dozing off in the waiting room beside him. "Makes sense. We've been here a while," He mutters softly.

Without hesitation, he reaches out to adjust the position of the chair, making sure it's more conducive to your rest. "Waiting doesn't seem so bad when I have you beside me." He smiles slightly.

"Should I wake you or let you sleep a little longer?" His concern for your well-being shines through his actions, his priority being your comfort above all else. "They haven't called your name yet."

"Is my shoulder comfortable? I hope it's not too stiff," he asks, a faint blush coloring his cheeks at the intimacy of the moment.

"I mean, I don't want you to think I'm all... rigid or nervous or whatever," he adds quickly, his nervousness peeking through despite his attempts to appear calm.

"It's just, I care, you know? And I want you to be comfy," he admits, his gaze softening as he looks at you, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable.

"So, uh, if it's not comfy, maybe I can adjust or something?" He pauses, almost as if waiting for your response. "I promise, I'm softer than I look... or seem."

Changbin ╰┈➤ Warming up by the fireplace

"Looks like the fire's doing its job. You're out like a light," Changbin observes with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on your peaceful form as you sleep by the fireplace, your cheeks flushed from the warmth.

"I'll keep the flames going, don't worry," he assures softly, gently tending to the fire to ensure it continues to crackle and glow, casting a cozy ambiance over the room.

"Your weight against me feels... nice," He admits with a fond smile, your presence soothing against the cold of the winter night. "You're like a little furnace, warming me up too. It feels so good against the chill," he adds, his arms wrapping protectively around you.

"I'll just stay here, holding you close," Changbin murmurs softly, his heartbeat syncing with yours as he listens to the steady rhythm of your breathing.

"Your soft breaths against my chest... it's comforting," he confesses with a gentle smile, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now."

"Sweet dreams, my dear," he murmurs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling back against the cushions, content to bask in the quiet serenity of the moment, with you by his side.

Hyunjin ╰┈➤ Reading together

"I didn't know you were reading '101 Ways to Fall Asleep' — Book must be a bestseller," Hyunjin remarks with a soft chuckle, gently teasing as he notices you dozing off beside him, the book still open in your hands.

"You look adorable when you're asleep," he murmurs fondly, a warm smile spreading across his lips as he watches you, the peaceful expression on your face filling him with a sense of contentment.

"I'll keep the pages turning while you rest," Hyunjin promises softly, his fingers trailing over the text of the book as he continues to read, his attention divided between the pages and the sight of you beside him, lost in slumber.

His voice hitches slightly as he hears your shallow breaths.

"Your soft breaths against my neck... who needs an audiobook?" he muses quietly, the sound of your steady breathing creating a soothing backdrop.

As Hyunjin turns another page, he can't help but steal glances at you, admiring the way your features soften in sleep.

"I've realized something," he continues, his gaze softening as he looks at you with affection. "I don't just enjoy spending time with you. I... I think I've fallen for you."

The admission hangs in the air, filled with both vulnerability and hope. "I know it's probably not the best time to say this," he adds, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "But I couldn't keep it in any longer. I just needed you to know."

Han ╰┈➤ At the beach

Han settles in beside you, glancing around at the bright sun overhead and then back at you, considering. "Hey," he murmurs, leaning closer, "do you want me to apply sunscreen for you?" he asks softly, his concern evident in his voice. "I wouldn't want you to get sunburned."

But you don't reply, and Han realizes with a gentle smile that you're asleep. "Are you napping?" he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "I can't blame you; the sun, the sand, it's all so soothing."

After a while, he speaks again, his tone soft and affectionate. "You know what's soothing to me? Your laugh," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression.

"Just know I'm here, watching over you as you rest, waiting for those beautiful eyes to open again," he whispers, his words a tender reassurance of his presence and care for you. He settles back against the warm sand.

He takes a deep breath, gathering his courage as he continues. "I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I want to spend it with you," he says earnestly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're everything to me, and I hope one day you feel the same."

Felix ╰┈➤ Cuddling

"You fell asleep in my arms, and I couldn't bear to wake you," Felix whispers softly, his voice barely above a breath as he gazes down at you, nestled against him in peaceful slumber.

"It's just you and me now," he continues, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "and you're snuggled up so peacefully." With gentle care, he adjusts his position to ensure you're comfortable, his touch light as a feather against your skin.

"I'm holding you close," Felix murmurs, his arms wrapped protectively around you, "feeling the rise and fall of your chest with each breath." He savors the quiet intimacy of the moment, cherishing the warmth of your presence in his arms.

"I hope you're dreaming of something beautiful," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "And when you wake up, I'll be right here, ready to hold you even tighter." With a tender smile, Felix closes his eyes, content to remain in this embrace with you, the gentle rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a peaceful state of serenity.

Seungmin ╰┈➤ Car ride

Seungmin sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze soft as he watches you drift off into sleep. "Long day, huh?" he remarks softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

"The ride home is pretty quiet without you chatting away," he continues, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I hope you're dreaming of something nice."

He leans his head back against the seat, feeling a sense of calm wash over him in your presence. "I miss hearing your voice already," he admits quietly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the fabric of his pants.

"Would a kiss wake you up, sleeping beauty?" Seungmin teases softly, a playful glint in his eyes as he considers the idea. He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before settling back into his seat.

"I'll be sure the radio is low so we don't wake you," he murmurs.

"Just got home," Seungmin says as the car pulls into the driveway, his voice tinged with affection. "I'll carry you inside," he offers, a warm smile spreading across his face as he prepares to lift you gently into his arms, eager to keep you safe and comfortable even in your slumber.

Jeongin ╰┈➤ Studying for an exam

Jeongin glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he sees you dozing off amidst a pile of textbooks. "Hey, sleepyhead," he murmurs affectionately, reaching over to gently nudge your shoulder.

"Looks like those textbooks finally got the best of you," he adds with a chuckle, his tone warm and teasing. "I don't blame you, though. Studying can be exhausting."

He watches you sleep for a moment, the lines of fatigue smoothing out from your face in the embrace of slumber. "It's actually kinda cute, watching you sleep like that," he admits, a fondness evident in his gaze. "But don't make it a habit, okay? We've got exams to ace!"

Jeongin's smile grows softer as he continues to watch you sleep, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of you. "You know," he begins, his voice quieter now, filled with a sincerity that matches the affection in his eyes, "I don't think I ever told you just how much you mean to me."

"You're not just my study buddy," he confesses softly, his gaze never leaving your peaceful form. "You're my best friend, my confidante, my partner in crime."

"And... well, if I'm being completely honest," he admits, a slight blush coloring his cheeks, "you're also the person I've been hopelessly in love with for longer than I care to admit."

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sunboki · 8 months

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🛒 SKZ TEXTS — you leave without giving him a kiss

including. ot8!

warnings. cursing, joke abt relapsing

notes. hyunjin’s has me crying i’m ill 😿

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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linopls · 9 months

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linopls kinktober list '23

depending on the prompt, it could be a drabble or a 2k-4k words. please let me know which one your most excited for and please leave requests for the 31st !! (i ran out of ideas lol.)

choking jeongin x reader

titfucking seungmin x reader

makeup sex minho x reader

roleplay hyunjin x reader

first time jeongin x reader

teasing minho x reader

virginity chan x reader

breeding hyunjin x reader

oral chan x reader

praise kink changbin x reader

humiliation minho x reader

somnophilia jisung x reader

size kink changbin x reader

orgasm denial felix x reader

degradation seungmin x reader

double penetration vocalracha x reader

foursome 3racha x reader

voyeurism danceracha x reader

spanking jeongin x reader

shower sex felix x reader

lingerie jisung x reader

bondage seungmin x reader

deep throating chan x reader

sex toys hyunjin x reader

edge play changbin x reader

masturbation jisung x reader

sexting felix x reader

daddy chan x reader

public minho x reader

overstimulation jeongin x reader

request !

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charmerchannie · 1 month

Note

Request : you meet Chans parents and they don’t like you ?

Gold digger (Chan's version)

A/n: decided to combine this request with the gold digger prompt. Hope you like it (it actually hurts)

Masterlist part 2

#skz fake texts #skz texts #stray kids fake texts #skz smau #stray kids smau #stray kids texts #stray kids x reader #stray kids #bang chan texts #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst #bang chan

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godslino · 4 months

Text

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz fanfiction #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan #stray kids #skz #first date series

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chahnniesroom · 4 months

Text

for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic. formatted this on my phone bc i'm lazy so please let me know if anything looks weird!

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

2K notes · View notes

daaawnnn · 4 months

Text

not meant to be

skz reaction: request - hello, so I just read maybe I like you and was wondering if you could do them, finding out reader has a crush on them, but not liking reader back. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. or if you don’t have time, just ignore this, but yeah byeee 💞

pairing: bsf!skz x gn!reader

warnings: rejection

©daaawnnn

reblogs are appreciated!

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skzstannie · 4 months

Note

Hii it’s okay if you can’t but I was wondering if you could do a skz x 9th member reader where she was in a car crash as well as the others? But she was badly injured as well and had to be looked after by chan because she wasn’t in good condition? Totally okay if you can’t thanks❤️

"You're awake!"

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member!reader (Chan-centric)

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~3,200 cw: some cussing, car accident, reader and skz get hurt

summary: ^^ see request

A/N: Hello! Not super happy with how this came out, but I hope you still like it anon! Started a new semester, so updates will be less frequent, but I'll still be lurking in everyone's feed through likes and reblogs 👀

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"I'm just saying, if penguin's could fly, I think they'd take over the world."

"Felix, literally what are you talking about?" you give him a strange look from where you're seated diagonal from him in the car.

"If penguins ever learned to fly, I think they'd try to overthrow the government in a vengeful fury."

You all sit in silence for a moment, trying to preserve the last of your braincells from deteriorating.

"Okay..." Seungmin responds, quirking his eyebrow at him.

"I am so excited for tonight!" you break the silence that settles, practically vibrating in your seat from the excitement.

"We know, you haven't stopped talking about it," Minho boredly comments, his phone lighting up his face from the shadowy back seat.

Jeongin throws an elbow in his side from where he's seated beside him, earning himself a nasty glare from the man. "Don't be mean to Ynnie, she's just excited to perform."

"I'm so sorry. Let me rephrase that," he clears his throat, setting his phone down in his lap, "Oh my gosh, I know! It's all you've talked about since this morning!" he squeaks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," you mumble, rolling your eyes at your grumpy member.

Before Minho has the chance to respond, your entire world is shaken when another car T-bones you from the right.

Time seems to slow down as the car is flipped, sending you out of your seat towards the ceiling of the car. Your seatbelt manages to control some of the damage to your head, but it slices into your neck from the pressure. Blood starts to drip out of your wound, but you don't even feel it as your hazy gaze travels over to your members.

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes land on Felix's still body in the back seat, his eyelids draped shut. He doesn't appear to have any other injuries, but you're immediately ripped away from the sight of Felix when you hear Minho groan in pain. You Jeongin a quick once over, and upon seeing no visible injuries, keep your eyes moving. You don't miss the way Jeongin's hands are firmly grasped around Felix's forearm as he shakes the older man, trying to wake him.

It's painful to twist in your seat, but you do so anyway. Catching a glimpse of Minho, you see a jagged piece of glass protruding out of his forearm. It appears small, but you know it must still hurt like a bitch. Other than that he looks okay, so you continue to look over your remaining members. His eyes are panicked as he frantically looks over the four of you. "You guys ok?" his voice shakes with fear, and his teeth are clenched from the pain radiating from the glass in his arm.

The ringing in your ears starts to subside a bit, and the grunts coming from your right get louder. Seungmin's arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, and there's blood dripping from his left eyebrow. You can't bring yourself to answer Minho, the shock still clouding your mind.

As the rest of your senses start to come back to you, your focus remains on Seungmin as he huffs in pain. You feel a stinging sensation in your thigh, but as you slowly start to drop your head to look, you feel a shaky finger reach under your chin.

Seungmin's reached his hand out, gently pulling your chin until your eyes meet his again.

"Just keep looking at me, Yn," he whispers. You do as you're told, but the pain is worsening by the second, and your breathing starts to quicken.

All else is tuned out as your eyes remain on Seungmin's unwavering gaze.

Seconds feel like hours as you sit there in the car. Your eyelids start to become heavy, and you fuzzily catch Seungmin's eyes turn frantic as your blinks become slower and more frequent.

"Just keep your eyes open, don't fall asleep," he repeats. His word are gentle at first, but as your mind turns to mud, his voice becomes louder and urgent, almost screaming at you. You feel a rough hand grab your shoulder from behind, shaking you. Their attempts to keep you awake are futile, though, as everything becomes too much for you to handle.

"No, don't close your eyes! Stay with me!" and that's the last thing you hear before you drift off into the darkness.

~ ~ ~

You're awoken to the sound of quiet repetitive beeping.

Opening your eyes is a task all in itself, your eyelids feeling impossibly heavy.

After a moment of struggle, you're met with the bright light from a window to your right. You slowly turn your head to the side, and you see Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin all perched on the couch. It looks uncomfortable, the way all three of them are scrunched up on the little loveseat.

You let your gaze linger on them for a moment, their presence providing a calming sensation for your jumbled mind.

Suddenly, your surroundings overwhelm you. You become terribly aware of all the wires connected to you. The ECG stickers become your biggest enemy, and the IV sticking out of your hand makes you angry.

Really angry.

You groan when you try to lift your arm, a sharp, shooting pain radiating down from your shoulder. You push through the pain though, urgent to remove all these wires from your body. The bandages littering your body feel as if they're burning your skin, and you've never needed to get something off of you faster.

You begin to peel the bandages from your arms, the pain from the adhesive no match for the pain you had been feeling previous to their removal.

Your agonistic groans manage to wake Changbin, and he panics when he sees you frantically tearing at your ECG stickers.

He jumps up from the couch, earning a yelp from Hyunjin as he was using Changbin as a pillow.

You're too overwhelmed to care about their actions as you continue to tear at your skin, even the blankets covering your body feeling like burning coals on your skin.

"Woah, what are you doing? You can't take those off yet," Changbin tells you, rushing to your side to try and restrain your arms.

"They're hurting me," you mumble, wretching your arms out of Changbin's grip to continue to pull at everything that touches you.

"Yn," Hyunjin gasps, quickly standing to his feet, running over to help Changbin.

Chan awakens from the commotion, alarm bells immediately sounding in his head when he sees your panicked movements.

You become more frantic when Hyunjin grabs one of your arms from Changbin, rendering you immobile.

"Get off!" you screech, yanking on your arms as hard as you can. Chan quickly runs out of the room in search of any healthcare professional he can find.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Hyunjin struggles against you, holding tightly onto your hand.

"Let me go!" you continue to scream like a banshee, "You're hurting me!"

Neither do as you say, fearing for what you'll do to yourself if they listen.

"You're ok," Changbin pleads, bringing one of his hands away from your arm to rest it gently on your forehead. "Please calm down, everything will be ok."

You're too panicked to notice Chan re-enter the room, a nurse trailing in behind him.

She has a shot in her hand, and she hurriedly comes up beside Changbin to administer the drug. She hastily inserts the needle into your upper arm, and it only takes seconds for your demeanor to soften. Your thrashing becomes weaker, and your shouts become quieter, turning into soft mumbles.

The guys let out a sigh upon seeing your eyes close, your stature finally relaxing into the hospital bed once again.

"What the hell was that?" Hyunjin huffs, slightly out of breath from the physical altercation.

"Sometimes patients can be violent when they wake up out of a coma. It can happen to anyone," the nurse explains, taking the chart off the wall beside the bed. "We'll get some soft restraints to put on her arms before she wakes up again. It's unlikely for her to panic again, but it's just a precaution."

The guys nod, all three of them staring at your now peaceful face.

~ ~ ~

The next time you wake up, you feel as if you're experiencing deja vu. Your eyes open slowly, and you wince at the feeling of them being crusted over from sleep.

You also become strikingly aware of the aching pain radiating from your thigh. Your leg remains immobile, and you feel the constricting cast running from your mid thigh down to your ankle.

You go to bring your hand up to rub your face, but your movements are restricted. Your attention is brought to your hands, now laying limply by your side. There are restraints covering your wrists. Your face contorts into an expression of confusion, and you glance at the couch to your right.

Seated there are Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin. Your deja vu hits you harder when you see them resting against one another, sleeping soundly.

"Chan," you call out to him, your voice surprisingly hoarse, your throat scratchy and raw.

He immediately jolts up, waking the other two in the process.

"Hey, you're awake," he says, getting up from the couch.

He's cautious as he walks over to you, taking slow steps to get to your bed. Changbin and Hyunjin watch from the couch, keeping their distance. Their expressions rival Chan's, somehow looking even more timid.

"Hi," you suddenly feel shy under their gazes, "Why are you looking at me like that? I can't even move; can we get these things off of me."

"Yea, sorry, the nurse said it was just precautionary. I'll go get someone to take them off of you," Hyunjin gets up from the couch, hurrying out into the hallway.

Realization dawns on you, and you bring your eyes to meet Chan's again. "Did I hurt someone? What happened?"

"You were trying to hurt yourself," a nurse enters the room, answering the question for Chan. "You were in a coma for a couple days. Sometimes, when patients wake, they can turn aggressive. Which you did, but nobody was hurt, the boys stopped you before you could do any damage."

You just nod, not entirely sure how to respond. She explains in more detail what had happened as she takes the restraints off your wrists.

"We had to sedate you, so you were out for an additional day. On the bright side, your coma allowed for your body to do some of the tough healing while you were unconscious. You had a surgery on your thigh the night you were brought in due to a compound fracture in your femur. The surgery was successful. It seems to be doing well for now, of course we'll have to bring you back in for some check-ups, but you should be good to go for now."

Your eyes widen as she goes on and on. Chan sits beside you, rubbing a hand up and down your back to help comfort you. The nurse continues about the paperwork, and leaves to gather it so you can leave.

"How are you feeling?" Changbin asks from the end of your bed.

"Overwhelmed," you answer curtly. The thought of not being able to perform for a while hurts your heart. Not only that, but you can't even walk!

Your suddenly hit with a wave of memories from the night of the accident, and your eyes water at the thought of the rest of your members who were in the car with you.

"Are the other guys alright? Where are they?" your voice is panicked as you ramble off questions.

"They're ok, we promise," Chan reassures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "They went home a couple days ago to rest. None of them got hurt as badly as you did. They all got some stitches, Seungmin's got a broken arm, and Felix has a pretty nasty concussion, but they're ok."

You sigh in relief, allowing your head to rest on Chan's shoulder.

The nurse comes back in, a folder filled with paperwork in hand. "As soon as you fill these out, you'll be good to go! Your medications and dosages are in this little baggy. You had some lacerations on your side, but we just covered them with butterfly bandages. The stitches on your neck can be taken out at your next appointment. Just be weary of them as you go about your day, try not to turn your head too quickly," she instructs, handing over the paperwork.

Within a few minutes, everything is filled out and you've been put in a wheelchair. Chan stands behind you, wheeling you out towards the van. Hyunjin carries your crutches from beside you, and Changbin holds your medicine and the paperwork.

Getting in the car was a hassle all in itself, as your leg felt like a million pounds with the cast on it. Your hip was so sore from laying in bed for so long, so you opted to have Chan lift you into the car.

Once finally settled, you lean back against the seat and close your eyes. You don't want to admit it, but you know these next few months are going to be difficult.

~ ~ ~

It's been a few weeks now, and things have started to go back to how they were before the accident. This is the first regularly scheduled week since then, and you're grateful for the normalcy.

Your managers had put everything on hold for a while, allowing you and the rest of your members to recover some. They knew it was a difficult time for all of you, and you were thankful for their leniency.

You have been spending most of your time on the downstairs couch, lounging around in front of the T.V. Various members would join you throughout the day, helping you with whatever you needed. Chan has certainly been the most doting, running at your every beck and call.

Today was no different; Chan decided to stay home with you while the rest of the members went to dance practice. He knew it'd probably put him behind, but they weren't set to perform for a good while, so he'll just catch up a different day. Plus, he knows Minho can handle them all just fine without him there.

The two of you are lounging on the couch, watching one of your favorite T.V shows, when Chan gets up to use the bathroom.

You hear the door close, and realize now's your chance. Your stomach's been growling for the past hour, but you didn't want to make Chan make you something.

However, you are done being the world's longest lounging couch potato, so you rise to your feet, grabbing your crutches from beside you, and make your way into the kitchen.

You know you don't have long before Chan finds you, so you ravage through the fridge quickly to try and find something to eat. You see your leftovers from the other night neatly packed away, so you grab those.

You carefully set your crutches down, leaning them on the counter next to you before hopping, leftovers in hand, to the microwave.

Unfortunately, the rug in front of the sink slips beneath you, and you fall onto the ground, your leftovers opening and spilling out onto you.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you sigh. Thankfully, you're not hurt, your butt just a little sore, but some of the sauce now decorates your cast.

You hear the door fling open from down the hall, and a frantic Chan bursts into the kitchen a mere second later. "What are you doing?" he's panicked as he rushes over to you, his arms looping under yours to pull you up.

"I was just going to heat these up because I was hungry, but then I slipped. I'm fine," you lightly push Chan away from you, knowing fully well that you can stand on your own.

He looks slightly taken back by your attitude, but nevertheless moves towards you again. He wraps his arms around you in an attempt to pick you up, no doubt to carry you back into your permanent spot on the living room couch, but you give him a firmer shove this time. "Did I hurt you?" he worries, his eyebrows scrunching.

"No, I just want to walk to the bathroom myself and get cleaned up," you explain, doing your best to keep your composure.

"I can help, let me grab you a wash rag for your cast," he bends down next to you, rummaging through the cupboard.

"Chan, please," you sigh. As much as you loved being babied at first, enough is enough. "I need some time by myself. I love you guys, but I'm not sure I've had a moment alone since the accident." Your arms are crossed as he stands, a pout forming on his face.

"But we just want to help you," he says, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

"And I thank you for all you guys have done the past month, but I really need to start doing things for myself again," you reach past him, grabbing your crutches and head down the hall to your bathroom. "Now to get this sauce off me," you mumble as you push the door open with the end of your crutch.

~ ~ ~

You're laying on your bed later in the day, knee propped up on a plump pillow to help alleviate some of the pain from your aching leg, when you hear a knock on door.

You tell them to come in, and the door opens to reveal Chan. "Hi," he's timid as he walks in. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, a guilty look on his face.

"What's up?" you ask, sliding your bookmark into the crease of your novel.

"I wanted to apologize on behalf of all of us. We've been really clingy since the accident, and we didn't realize we were overstepping."

"Chan," you sigh, adjusting yourself to sit next to him. "Please don't beat yourself up about this. Honestly, I was just a little frustrated earlier and took it out on you. You guys have helped me more than you know these last few weeks. I really don't mind all the doting."

His eyes light up at that. "Really?" his voice is giddy, and you regret that you were the cause of his sadness before.

While the overprotectiveness really did get on your nerves a bit, if it brings them that much happiness to take care of you, you suppose you can get past your grumpiness and let them do it.

"Really."

"Guys, she changed her mind!" he yells, and not even a second later, your door swings open, seven smiling faces staring back at you.

They hurry into your room, clumsily fighting each other to sit on your bed. They're still cautious of your leg, but they all manage to fit, even if a little squished.

"Don't make me regret this," you joke, ruffling Seungmin's hair from where he's laid out on your lap.

"You know you love us," Chan comments, smirking at you.

"I certainly do."

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan #skz bangchan #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x reader #skz angst #skz hurt/comfort #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #stray kids ninth member #skz ninth member

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pretty-blkgirl · 2 months

Text

Texting Skz “Happy Anniversary” (Hyung Line)

//gn!reader x Skz//

Synopsis: You try and wish your boyfriend a happy anniversary for Skz Day

Genre: crack, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: HAPPY SKZ DAYYYYYYYYY. Wanted to put a little something out for the kids’ 6th year 🫶🏾

~Maknae Line~

~~~~|~~~~

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valkyriexo · 1 month

Text

💬 Skz Texts | They want you to meet their parents

*·˚ᑉ³ OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Smau, Comfort, Fluff, some angst,

ᑉ³warnings; Use of pet names, insecurities, overthinking, a little suggestive for some members but nothing crazy.

ᑉ³Authors Note; I don't love love these but I want to do more skz texts :) let me know your thoughts

Chan

Minho

Changbin

Hyunjin

Jisung

Felix

Seungmin

Jeongin

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sunboki · 10 months

Text

🛒 SKZ TEXTS — “what if i told you i was pregnant”

including. ot8<3

warnings. pregnancy mentions, suggestiveness, cursing

notes. baby fever month hitting hard right now.. somebody tell me where can i buy a channie :(

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jinnie-ret · 5 months

Text

stray kids reaction to s/o who can't sleep in the same bed

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: cheating, implied toxic relationships (not with skz)

request (from anon): I wanna request a skz reaction to their s/o who has trust issues and prefers to deal e things herself and also prefers to sleep alone in her room n stuff bc she trusts them but she needs to work her way up with being comfortable and ok to feel vulnerable enough to sleep w them n how they'd react to s/o taking months to a year for the to finally allow themselves to sleep next to them or even the same room as them?

SKZ REACTIONS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Bang Chan

Your boyfriend Chan had texted you asking you to come over last minute, but of course, you weren't going to deny you or him from seeing each other. The issue was, plans being this last minute meant you hadn't had time to shave your legs. You didn't think Chan was the type of guy to judge you or anyone for having hairy legs, but it was more so your own qualms about things, and not feeling like you were deep enough into your relationship to trust that it wouldn't make him look at you in a different light.

Currently you were both heading into his bedroom, ready to cuddle and get some sleep - yes, you had managed to get your boyfriend to steer away from staying up all night.

You dove into the bed, Chan chuckling behind you as you shuffled under the blankets, wiggling like a worm.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Chan laughed at you as he stripped out of his t-shirt and joined you in bed.

"Going to sleep?" your voice was muffled by the pillows your face was pressed into.

"Oh right, in jeans, yeah?" Chan laid on his side, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sometimes when I nap in them they turn into pantaloons and I've really been into ATEEZ and pirates lately," you rambled on. Yes there was some truth in that, but it wasn't the thing that needed revealing today.

"Babe what?" Chan blinked confusedly at your rambling, "why don't you get comfy?"

"Ummm... Actually I think the sofa is more comfy, I'll just sleep there," you scrambled out of the bed.

"What's wrong with the bed?" Chan grabbed your hand gently, pulling you back towards him with a slight frown as he sat up, "you've slept in it before."

"I ummm..." your voice wavered, looking at the floor and chewing the inside of your cheek feeling awkward.

"Babe, just tell me," he shuffled over to be sat directly next to you.

"I haven't shaved," you mumble incoherently.

"Huh? What was that baby?" Chan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

"I didn't shave my legs... I'm embarrassed," you admit with big eyes, looking at Chan's expression and hoping not to see disgust.

"Is that all? Babe I don't care if your legs are hairy, I want to be with a woman, not a little girl, I don't care if your legs get hairy it's natural, yeah?" Chan preaches to you after a sigh of relief. He had his arm still around your shoulder, yet he was rocking you side to side.

"Hmmm..." you said in thought, trying to fight off a grin appearing on your face and instead look contemplative instead.

"What, was it something I said?" Chan rose an eyebrow.

"Yeah actually..." you fake sighed.

"Oh I'm sorry what was it that I said?" Chan intertwined your hands, speaking carefully and wanting you to feel comfortable enough about what was said wrong.

"You say you want to be with a woman not a little girl, so why do you insist that I call you Dadd-" you start laughing, just about managing to get your words out.

"Stoppp, stoppp, go, shoo, you, go put your pyjamas on funny girl," Chan sighed with a laugh, unable to hide it as he pushed you to stand.

"Ok Dadd-" you turned to tease him again, before he cut you off.

"Y/N!" he chased after you, tickling your sides as you squealed and laughed. You were glad that he didn't care about you having hairy legs. It was now reassuring in the future for any worries that you had, that he'd understand.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Minho

"I swear you hug the cats more than me," he smirked, simply teasing you from where he was sat at the other end of the sofa with Dori in his lap. You had the ginger babies Soonie and Doongie in yours. You were glad though because it brought you great comfort with the paranoia you had been feeling more and more recently.

He was your boyfriend, and you loved him, but you worried his teasing comments were actually subtle digs. You were still shy about being physically affectionate with him, particularly with sharing a bed with him.

"I-i'm sorry Min, I'm trying," your voice wobbles.

"Darling, I'm joking, don't worry," Minho lifted Dori off of his lap, standing up and stretching and not seeing the distress that still remained on your face. "Right, I'm going to get some sleep, you want to join?"

"I-i'm not ready yet, sorry Min."

"It's ok, darling." He always announced when he was going to bed, always leaving the question in the air so you could say yes if you felt ready. But that still wasn't the case this time, and as he turned to get a glass of water from the kitchen, he was stopped in his tracks by your cries.

"I-it's not because I don't love you, because I do!! I really do!! I just want to work myself up for it you know? I don't wanna be awkward and stuff but-" you had lifted the cafs off of your lap, feeling guilty and in that moment seeing him turn away from you felt like he was annoyed.

"Hey, hey, darling, where's all these tears coming from, hmm?" Minho soothed you, his voice slightly higher pitched when he was being gentle with you. "I told you, it's ok, really," he wiped your tears off of your cheeks.

"I feel like I'm being annoying," you sniffled, looking down only for him to tilt your chin upwards.

"I'd rather you be comfortable, ok?" Minho was always patient with you, "don't let it stress you out ok?"

"O-ok," you took in a deep breath, calming yourself down.

"I love you, get some rest, ok darling?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Changbin

Your boyfriend was peacefully sleeping in bed, small snores escaping his lips as his face was squished against one of his thick arms. And he was a light sleeper, probably from previously living in a dorm full of boys before that were chaotic to say the least, and that was from what you saw meeting them outside of their home space.

You tiptoed into the bedroom, taking a deep breath. Never sleeping in the same bed as him was something you knew didn't deter him but you could see it when he'd miss you goodnight that he wished that you would sleep with him. That boy wanted nothing more than to hold you all night in his arms, but he respected your decision still. Tonight, things were different.

Slowly crawling into bed next to him, you lifted up the duvet and laid down beside him, slowly resting your head against the top of his back and an arm across his waist. You were nervous, yes, but you had missed his comfort after wishing each other good night, even though it had only been half an hour.

The beast had awoken, quite dramatically you must admit. But it was fair, considering you wouldn't normally sleep next to him he wouldn't be expecting anyone in bed next to him.

"Huh...? Woah! What?! Honey?" Changbin's initial murmurs had turned to surprised joyful shouts as he flew out of bed to make sure this was all real. You just sat there stunned with your hands covering your ears.

Your boyfriend did a happy dance, jumping into bed next to you as he wiggled against you, and instead he was the big spoon this time round. His heartbeat was racing and so was yours.

"Surprise?" you giggled, making him coo and squish your cheeks.

"My honey," Changbin kissed your cheek before cuddling up to you even tighter, "good night."

Now that, was in a much deeper voice in comparison to his excited shouts. The duality of this man, and he was all yours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Hyunjin

"Baby! I haven't seen you in ages!" Hyunjin quickly got up from his seat, bringing you into a hug. With your usual solace in his presence you sink into his embrace.

"Hey Jinnie," you then sat down across from him in the cafe.

"I'm so glad you saw me today, I was worried about you," Hyunjin grabbed your hands, holding them in his.

"Worried? You don't have to worry about me," you offered an awkward smile, knowing fully well why he felt this way. He had asked you on multiple dates just to see you when he was miraculously free from his busy schedule. But each time you cancelled, getting worried you were falling too deeply only for it to be thrown away. You were scared to get close in case you got hurt, so you flaked out from each time he wanted to see you. It wasn't until your friends prompted you to see him that you thought maybe you should this time.

"You haven't been wanting to see me... I haven't done something wrong have I, baby?" Hyunjin worried, one of his hands releasing one of yours in turn to sip from his iced americano.

"It's not you Jinnie, I'm just... scared," you answered honestly, for the sake of reassuring him. It didn't feel fair for him to worry without knowing why you were really avoiding him.

"Scared? Of what?" Hyunjin leant forwards, elbows not resting on the table between you both.

"I-i don't want to ruin things between us because once we get closer we'll be going round each other's apartments and then it's sharing a bed together and I'm just not ready for that yet," you explained, words tumbling past your lips as you felt flustered.

"Oh baby, we never have to force anything, I'd never rush you if you're not ready. If your pace is slower than mine, so be it. I will not make you catch up with me, I'll be right next to you instead," Hyunjin promised you, looking deeply into your eyes so you knew it. "I wish you told me sooner, I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too Jinnie."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Han

"Please don't feel bad my baby, I really don't mind," Han pleaded, not wanting you to feel guilty. You both held hands as you were sat on the sofa watching a film, specifically, Spirited Away.

"You don't find it weird?" you weakly ask, eyes not leaving the TV screen.

"I've never been with anyone before that's felt the same way, but I love you, so I'm not about to throw that away because you're not ready to sleep in the same bed as me," Han spoke calmly, like it was something he had gone over in his head plenty of times.

"I want to, I really want to, Ji, I'm sorry babe," your voice wobbled, thick with emotion, Han kissing your hand as he tentatively brought your it to his plush lips, always careful with you. He was always understanding that you needed more time with things due to previous relationships.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, I have an idea," Han grinned, leaving the sofa without any explanation and getting busy with moving things around in the bedroom.

~~~

"Come on, it's like a sleepover every night, I don't know why I didn't think of it in the first place..." Han felt proud of himself gazing across at you from the bed. You see, Han had taken it into his own hands to make you feel more comfortable around him to sleep near him, not quite next to him yet. Fortunately, his apartment came with a spare bed frame, bedding, the works, so he had set up a bed for you across from his own. It was perfect, right? You didn't have to sleep next to him in bed yet, but at least you could stay over this time, and one day cuddle in bed til you fall asleep.

That was what Han hoped. You on the other hand, were too busy in your own world, thinking about the worst things that could happen to mentally prepare yourself, your hand twisting the blanket in its grip.

"Baby, is it too much? I can drive you home now if you want?" Han stretched his leg out, nudging your foot with his own to shake you out of your thoughts.

"N-no I'm just gonna umm... Let you fall asleep first... Makes me feel safer so I know that you won't do anything you know," you rambled with your jaw clenched. That all too familiar lump in your throat was making its presence known and you didn't know if you were going to yawn or cry.

"Hey?" Han softly said.

"Y-yeah?" you nervously look up at him, only to see pure adoration and warmth oozing from those boba eyes of his.

"It's ok, yeah, I wouldn't do that to you, I care about you far too much," Han slowly walked over to you to allow you to process his movement happening in front of you, and brushed some hair back from your eyes.

"You're the best," you murmured, leaning your face further into his hand making him grin.

"I know, baby."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Felix

There it was again, that funny feeling. You hadn't gotten so lucky before being cheated on in your previous relationship, so when you smelt the different perfume on the pillows in your bedroom, you were heartbroken. You didn't have it in you to be angry at Felix, not him. Maybe just at yourself for not noticing it sooner. But maybe a part of you wanted the pain, to know for sure it was true, because you didn't leave straight away, no, you just waited for him to notice something was up.

"Hi love, you going to sleep?" Felix grinned as he came up to you, stroking your hair out of your face. And you let him.

"Yeah... I was going to borrow one of your pillows but I couldn't help but notice it smelt differently," you brushed his hands off of your hair.

"Oh, did you like the smell?" Felix beamed at you, ever so sunny when all you felt was blue.

"Are you kidding me? Did I like it?" your voice cracked. "Lixie, is this some sick joke?"

"Love..." he reached out to hold your shoulders but you backed further away.

"Don't. Please don't. I gave you a chance just then to admit what you had done. Is it because of me? Because I'm not ready to sleep in bed next to you, you have to get another woman? And don't try to tell me I borrowed that pillow last night because my perfume does not smell like that!" you cried, wiping your nose as you did and pointing at the bed in disgust.

"It could though, let me explain, love," Felix held your hands and even though he was the source of your upset, or at least the version of him that your brain created was, you sat with him on the sofa.

"It's a new perfume, not from another woman, but for you if you like it. I-i just didn't want to give you one and you didn't like the scent so I got the tester to try out and if you liked it then I was going to buy the bottle for you," Felix brought you into his arms whilst he explained, and you felt like a bitch.

"I'm such a bitch."

"No, no, don't be silly love, I didn't realise that it could have been triggering for you, ok, so don't call yourself that," Felix mumbled in his deep voice soothingly, kissing you on the head.

"I did like the perfume scent by the way," you whispered. That's what would have been more annoying - that the imaginary woman had a good taste in scents.

"I'm glad you do, love."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Seungmin

You had been judged many a time by your last boyfriend for your sleeping habits, whether it was for your not so soft snores or when sometimes you'd accidentally drool because of having your cheek pressed against your hand all night. So when you got with Seungmin, you were hesitant in sharing a bed with him, let alone falling asleep next to him. Sometimes you just couldn't help it.

The two of you had been watching a movie and foolishly you let yourself fall asleep, only to be awoken by Seungmin's giggles.

"I never knew you were a snorer, honey," Seungmin laughed to himself, but you were awoke in an instant, the sounds of your peaceful sleep cut off as you looked at him in alert.

"Oh sorry, I know I'm loud, I, umm..." you rambled awkwardly, cheeks inflamed in a rosy red tint, bringing the blanket more around your body in attempt to comfort yourself.

"Like a drone or something," your boyfriend giggled once more, but his smile faded at seeing you frown. "Hey I'm just joking..."

"No you're not," you mumble grumpily. It had to come back to this. Always. You couldn't help it. It was a habit for a reason.

"I am, I am, don't hide from me," Seungmin insisted, tugging the blanket away from you face, bopping the pout your lips wore.

"Stoppp, I'm embarrassed, Minnie," you pushed his hands away, well tried to.

"Don't be, I don't care, honestly, I sleep easily and plus you're not the only one who snores," Seungmin pulled you into his arms.

"You snore too?" you rose an eyebrow, you had never heard him do so before.

"No but Channie does. He's like a foghorn. So don't worry, yours is far better," Seungmin chuckled, teasing his leader when he wasn't even there.

"You sure? I never wanted to disturb you, is all," you look up at him as he leans down slightly to kiss you on the head with a sweet smile.

"Very, now please sleep in my arms, you can relax, honey," Seungmin gently rubbed your back as you turned to face him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Jeongin

Worst. Day. Ever.

Was it normal for a part time job at a cafe to be chaotic? No, not the one you worked at anyways. This was why it was such a surprise for you to deal with a rowdy customer that decided that he didn't like his coffee because it was 'too hot' and wanted a refund, all whilst you had the busiest shift of your life. Well, he certainly didn't get one after chucking the freshly brewed beverage all over you.

You were dismissed earlier by your manager, who could see how anxious you were feeling, and after you were checked over you returned to yours and Jeongin's apartment, being the first home for once. And you couldn't resist the comfort of his soft, plush bed as your spot to let yourself cry, despite the fact you've never slept next to him before. In fact, your unfamiliarity of being in the room distracted you from the fact the front door unlocked and that there were foosteps heading straight towsrds you.

"Jagi?" Jeongin asked confusedly seeing you curled up in his bed. It wasn't a sight he expected to see. He understood you had boundaries and didn't feel ready sharing a bed yet. The more concerning thing was the sobs wracking through your body.

"Oh?" you jumped, turning to see your boyfriend with care and sadness shining in his eyes at the sight of your tears.

"What's the matter, hmm?" Jeongin slowly sat down next to you, resting a hand gently on your knee. That was when you dissolved into tears once more. "Oh, jagi," he instinctively pulled you in for a cuddle, before you shuffled out of his arms.

"I'm sorry, I've just had such a bad day and your bed looked so comfy and-"

"Why's your neck all red?" Jeongin frowned.

"Angry customer, threw his drink at me, and it hurt, and then my manager sent me home and-"

"Come here," Jeongin quietened you, opening his arms once more which you accepted this time.

"I'm sorry," you cried into his chest.

"Don't be sorry. I don't care that you laid down in the bed. I'm more worried about you, Jagi, ok?" Jeongin's embrace became tighter when he heard your small whimpers, a clear sign that you were trying to stop yourself from crying.

"Just wanna forget about today," you mumbled sadly.

"I know, I know, let's ummm... Ok maybe not a hot bath... let me get some cream for you, treat those burns," Jeongin pecked you on the cheek, deciding against your skin enduring more pain from hot water, and quickly got up, soon returning with some ointment for you. He made the decision to gently rub it into your neck, having a better pair of eyes than you did. One, because you couldn't see it fully, two, because your eyes were still slightly blurred from tears.

"T-thank you, Innie," you kissed his hand before it fully pulled away from your neck, making a weird face as the cream went onto your lips, the taste of it not so pleasant.

"Silly girl, here," he wiped the cream off your lips with his thumb, kissing you just to make sure the taste still wasn't there, and then you were both satisfied.

"Love you, Innie."

"Love you too, Jagi, even with panda eyes."

"Shit, I forgot I wore mascara today."

"I know, Jagi, I know."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist