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seventhcallisto · 5 months

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Just had a little idea... flashing lights and eyestrain warning.

❝you shine like emerald❞

Happy House.

Stray Kids (ot8) x F!Reader (9th member addition)

PREVIEW: "I am not a member of stray kids!" You kick up the papers littering the floor. Frustratingly pulling at your hoodie. "They're always screwing over those guys. I feel kinda bad." Your most trusted friend, Jiu, snickers behind her bright laptop screen. "I-i should have left when I had the chance! Should have joined that dance group that tried to recruit me! Why did I think I was gonna be the next jihyo!? Oh god." You pace, waving your hands around to drain the building anxiety curling into your lungs and making it's home there. You twist towards jiu falling to your knees and wailing miserably. Childishly.

"I wasn't even on the show. It's a boy group! I'm going to get eaten alive! I'm a trainee! They have years over me! I'm so dead. My career is already over before it started. My life is over." You fall to the floor. Completely done with this whole ordeal and the accident you've gone through, sniffling pitifully. "I told you to always read the fine print. You never listen." Jiu scolds. She, in fact, did not, but she wants to make you feel worse as your best friend. Pink nails flick tiny specks of popcorn towards your slumped body on the floor. And she's right. You should have read the fine print before some businessman shoved a pen into your face. What is so wrong with stray kids that you're being made a fool just to make them look bad? Would adding you tear the group dynamic? You know you're screwed as soon as your concept photos drop.

SYNOPSIS: As if some type of double-sided punishment, you're manipulated to join one of jyps' most successful groups. Stray Kids. Added as an extra member and with no experience just to cast you off as another unsuccessful idol, all because you didn't read the fine print when they dangled the keys to your dream in front of your face. They've got tricks up their sleeves, and the contract you signed says you're a permanent member of the unsuspecting group of guys now. You had no idea you were signing that type of contract. And you especially have no idea why they're trying to bring down their biggest boy group.

table of content + cws: she/her pronouns. female anatomy. major age differences but not in a power-hungry way(ur 19). invisible honorifics, I swear. manipulation. jyp(ent) is kinda the villain here(ilyjypplsdontsueme). ace!trainee reader. inexperienced reader. forced proximity and friendship. the members r kinda mean at first. Sorry, not sorry. ooc stray kids bc no one knows them like they know themselves. overworking. growing friendships. polyamorous(sharingiscaring). quick mutual pining(but they don't realize it). eventual smut.

Prologue. — 🧾

Chapt. ⓵ ❝_____❞

chpt. ⓶ , chpt. ⓷ , chpt. ⓸, chpt. ⓹, etc.

To be continued.. 🧷

I accidently posted this too early (crying). Lmk what you guys think ! — calli.

[taglist is open]

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seventhcallisto · 5 months

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Prologue — "so overwhelmed"

Happy House. 2.7k wc.

Everything is so very overwhelming. Your clothes are overwhelming. Your hair is overwhelming. Your skin is overwhelming. Your makeup is overwhelming. The bustling makeup artist and the photographers and the light crew- everything really, is overwhelming. You've got hours of this left and you feel like you might pass out from the heat of the annoyingly cut up heavy jeans that are so inaccurate and so extremely 90s. But you have to power through or else you're making it everyone else's problem.

They're here to take photos of you for a concept you don't get told about. You are the muse and the artists are at work flashing lights and directing your movements. You've got to put your solid six hours of pose training to use, for some reason you don't think it's working like it should be. You feel awkward and weird in your own body. When you shuffle the press of the extremely tight denim skirt digs into your waist. Your feet feel heavy from the platform shoes. Your head is sweating from the amount of hairspray in it.

“Take five!”

You have to breathe. You can't breathe. But you're pushing through the feeling of needing to sob and wail at the overstimulation that's beating down on your senses. You're pushing through. You're always pushing through. Your temporary manager, a strict man- pulls at your arm as you stand so still in the middle of the set. Finally getting you to move after he called you many many times.

“Breathe” he whispers harshly and smiles to keep up the facade of happy-manager-man. Your face falls when you try to gulp back tears. “I'm trying” you hiss back, so tempted to just ruin your hair and stroke your hand over it. Your feet work against you as he continues his stomping rampage to the exit of the studio. The back alley is as close as you'll get to fresh air. You're somewhat grateful he noticed you struggling.

But facades are facades and you're supposed to not show how you're really feeling, and yet he noticed it. You bend, palm against your knees as you take harsh and panicked breaths into your painful lungs. Your makeup is expensive and you know the artists who did it will scold you like some child for getting tear streaks down your face. Cigarette smoke meets your nose. Harshly you cough and turn away from it. Hands on your hips as you pace away. “You'll get smoke on my clothes” you huff, five feet away at this point. It's true. Nic stains and leaves smell.

He takes one long drag, then stomps the ash out onto the sidewalk with a curse. He's got the decency, but you know he has been smoking the entire time you were getting poked and prodded like some doll. He reeks of it. You hate it, you hate how you work and how it's all so very uncomfortable. You hate having to walk on eggshells around him so he doesn't bark at you like an aggressive chihuahua. You hate this, you just became a trainee- like- a month ago. You hardly have any actual training under your belt.

Somehow you're already being thrown into the ring and given no clue how to fight. Panic is clawing your lungs and you think you might toss up the meal you had earlier in the day. You're already down to the smallest scale size you can manage without complete food restrictions and yet it was painfully hard to get there in the first place.

Everything is so very overwhelming.

“I can't do this,” you tell yourself, quiet compared to the city. “i can't.” you hiccup, heaving one hard breath out. Just breathe. The voice echos in your mind. Breathe. You take a shuddered breath in. One two three. Then out.

The day is long, but as long as you keep breathing and focus on why you're really there then you'll be okay. Soon night rolls around and you realize rent is a problem. Jiu can only pay so much for your side of it. Your hands slam down piles of paperwork and bills and written down studies that signal your last test is coming up so you can graduate. As soon as you're done you can put all your focus on training. One thing at a time. You've got to get hired part time somewhere. And luckily enough, a job that somewhat perfectly fits your schedule falls into your hands thanks to the orange haired woman who's your roommate.

“Your first paycheck has to go to rent”

“Who's going to feed me?”

“I'll feed you, just pay rent dammit”

Jiu has been feeding you for three weeks whilst you pay off your side of rent. You love her like a sister. She takes care of you like one. She's the only one you got close to when you came from your home country and began training. The only way you could communicate was through English. She was a trainee for a while. A solid 10 years. As soon as she turned 23 she quit being a trainee, moved out of the group house and began working. You felt anxious without her, she was the only one who bothered to help you the entire month you were there. So, like any younger sibling would do. You moved out and followed her. She convinced you to keep training, and took you in.

Now you're on the line of being an idol and being a trainee. You're in your most nerve-racking part of reaching your dream yet you still have so much more to train for.

It's weeks ago, you were standing in a line up of young women. Echoes of footsteps in the large practice room. Women the same as you, wishing to have their dream picked up so they can live their lives. A man dressed in all black, and a woman with a clipboard who stares through you like a ghost. They pace around you like predators stalking their prey. From the corner of your eyes, you can see each girl's expressions turning and twisting with anxiety. Some of them are younger, most of them older than you. A pair of the younger ones reach out to hold hands when the recruiters aren't looking. Attempting to ease each other's tension.

It's short- lived. Your attention is snapped back when fingers click right in front of your face. The clipboard holding woman looks you up and down with her emotions hiding behind a pair of heavy black bangs.

“Her” she says, as if you aren't there. Your eyes flicker back and forth. The man looks up from the paper he's holding. Staring you up and down. “Are you sure?” He asks, turning away from you to look the woman in her eyes. She continues to stare into your soul. You have to blink back to keep your eyes from watering. You are so very anxious.

The man doesn't ask a second time, nor does he look away from his companion. His hands clap together lightning quick. Whipping the paper back and forth. Half of the girls are startled, especially you. He joyously laughs under his black bucket hat. A false smile that pulls his aging cheeks. “You're going to debut kid, time to celebrate” he claps his hands against your shoulders. Evading your personal space and shaking you back and forth.

Since then, you've been told to go places, do things. Pretend you're happy and excited. And you are, you're debuting. Which is rare. You hardly have any training experience. It's a miracle. Plus- you haven't been told at all about what group you're being placed in. Or when. That's exactly where all of your anxiety comes from.

You fade back into existence. Trying to focus, you shake the sleepiness beating down on your eyelids. The car is silent, the radio turned down to the lowest it can go. Some indie song is playing smoothly. The highway is as quiet as it can get at 12 in the night. You're thankful for the music. If it was completely silent you'd have a hard time not succumbing to your worried thoughts. Your phone vibrates and pings in your pocket. Notifications that continuously pop up all day. You hadn't gotten your phone back until you left the jyp building. Too busy in a meeting, signing contracts and listening to legal discussions you hardly understood. You're still young. You're not very good with legal things. If you did, you're too tired to have anything registered in your brain.

“Stop here please sir” you tell the driver as soon as you realize he's passing the apartment complex you stay at with jiu. He nods his head in the rear view mirror, pulling off to the side. You thank him as you go. The door clicks behind you after you pull out your heavy duffle bag you use from practice. Your feet are sore. Your knees feel like they're cracking under your weight from the continuous strain on them. Heaviness settles along with the bag on your back. A plain white mask pulled over your mouth. Being a buzz in the media is crazy for you, ever since that photoshoot you took for your headshots as a trainee you've been on everyone's ‘will-she-debut’ list. The worst part is you're most recognizable now because your hair is pink. Yes, almost neon pink. It's not easy to hide pink hair.

And the woman in front of you on the led screen display has the same hair as you. Same baggy jeans. same strategic pose- its you. Oh god. Why are you on a display? Large letters above your head blink, ‘STRAY KIDS INTRODUCES..’ your name. An abbreviation of your name but it's your name nonetheless. Your new stage name.

Your hand fumbles, and sadly your phone slips right out and onto the rain covered sidewalk. Plop. It falls into a puddle and you're on your knees fishing it out as soon as it does. Shaking the water off and opening your camera to snap the quickest photo you can of the display. Your hands tremble and yes, it's a terribly shaky photo. But it's you. Shaky and blurry through your camera lense covered with sprinkles of water but it's you.

Ding, buzz. Your phone goes off as your picture shutters. The message popping onto the screen.

It's Jiu. A video message, you can see her face in the darkest angle as she jumps up the stairs to your shared apartment. Hair astray around her tan face. You pick up the video call immediately. Panic in your voice. “Jiu! My face” you flip the camera to showcase the led screen. Your phone adjusting to the light change. You must look crazy talking to yourself in public. Waving your arms frantically.

She's frantically pulling her keys out to twist open the door. Shadows follow in behind her. “I know, get back to the apartment as fast as you can. Don't stop for anything. There's press at the front. So take the back door-” “ji- what are you talking about!?” “what do you mean ‘what am I talking about’? You're on every news site that covers celebrities, kid! Don't you check the news! Ever!?” she raises her voice and it isn't as scary because she's just talking really loudly.

You don't. You're a trainee. Any news about kpop idols and such isn't allowed. Any social media isn't allowed. Anything of the sort isn't allowed. Your phone is regularly checked because of that fact. The only time you ever see the news is when jiu watches it early in the mornings before you leave for rehearsal. You never stick around for long because you feel guilty, as if you're breaking the rules.

“Get to the apartment! Get home!” the phone call ends abruptly.

Your run home is crazy, you've got your cardio in for the week. Your adrenaline pumped so much your heart doesn't beat normally even after you're taking a seat on the old rickety couch and drinking the oxygen in the room like a water bottle. Jiu has already sat you down. Told you as much as she knows.

She places two hands on you from behind your shoulder, squeezing them gently. ‘I'm here’ it tells you. You know it's hard for her to show affection, so you're thankful. She is there. Her phone is pressed between your fingers as you scroll on her timeline. Your name is everywhere, most popular tag above stray kids.

‘HERE'S EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT STRAY KIDS’S NEWEST MEMBER SO FAR’ has already reached millions of likes and reports.

Your name, your trainee information. How long you've been training, most prominent. One month. Compared to the years stray kids has under their wings, you only have a month. Jiu snatches the phone before you get to the comments. You're a clammy and distraught mess. Crying to jiu as you scan through your hours and hours of written lyrics just to find that one paper you took from the meeting room about a week ago.

You're so overwhelmed.

The second the last few members —changbin and hyunjin specifically— step through their shared apartment, chan is calling a meeting. He assumes everyone must know because when he steps out of his shared room, minho is asking him “did you know?” And chan is shaking his head like a dog. Felix, jeongin, jisung, changbin, and even minho look completely put out and shocked by the news, all currently in their pajamas when they were supposed to be heading to sleep before they got the messages. The living room is a bustle of members, and complete shock hangs off everyone's words.

Chan has to rethink what he's going to say. And even though he's trying to figure it out. The living room is full of memories of all of them being together, something they haven't had in a while. Seungmin shoots up from his spot on couch, phone in hand. “She's a baby trainee!” He yells in shock, changbin stampeeds and practically leaps for the younger members phone. Staring down at the screen. Instead of crowding around bin jeongin is reaching for the remote. Flipping up youtube and searching up the most common topic on their minds.

And it's serious when changbins jaw drops. Lost for words. His eyes sparkling with different emotions. Gawking like a fish out of water. Hyunjin is a mimic. Whilst minhos face drop in some type of horror. Seungmin is thoroughly surprised and on the verge of a confused laugh.

Everyone's eyes flip to the wide-screen on the wall, music blaring loudly as some YouTube intro plays. Chan steps forward to grab the remote from a frozen jeongins hand. Just before he's about to turn it off. A new, fresh voice speaks through the speakers.

“hi! My name is __ . I'm currently auditioning for jyp. The song I'll be singing and rapping today is deja vu by beyoncé, I will be doing a freestyle dance aswell.” It's raw, and reminds chan of his audition video. You look just as young as chan was for his first audition, he has to advert his eyes just to ask changbin how old you are.

“She's 19” the black haired member says. Chans tense shoulder ease. “so she was nineteen when she did this audition-” chans jaw falls open and it feels as if its about to pop when your audition video ends. Your vocals keep playing as the next screen flickers lights across the living room. The list of things about you is displayed. Born in 2004. No. You're currently 19. You’re younger than jeongin! That can't be right. The eldest is chan, and he feels completely and utterly old. He's got seven years over you. It's a complete scandal as well because you're a girl pushed into an all male group. And as the youngest! Jeongin isn't the maknae anymore! It's like some type of fever-horror dream.

You did that video weeks ago, right before you got picked up as a trainee. Audible gasps resound in the room. Hyunjin speeding around minho. His finger raises to point at your headshot photos. “I remember her! One of my friends was telling me about her predebut photos, they're calling her the ace of trainees!” hyunjin yells and it's almost like a forced reaction as he spits out everything he knows about you. Pacing around the coffee table and bumping into jeongins shoulder.

You're a fresh new face to K-pop, and somehow unbeknownst to them, you're put in their company. In their group. How did that happen? Why did that happen?

Taglist: @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @xerces00 @hanoobinie @ldysmfrst @skz-streamer @5starluvr

(If you wish to be tagged pls ask in the 'happy house' masterlist comment section! Also, if your tag isn't working, pls lmk- i'm still new to this and im crossing it out if it isn't popping up when i tag :C Mwuah. ♥︎ (p.s. happy thanksgiving if u celebrate.)

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