He Comforts You On Your Period - Seo Changbin

the existence of @jeonginsleftcheek implies there is also a jeonginsrightcheek

sweetie did you lose your other half

the fast lane : part 2 (bangchan x reader x felix)

Summary: Welcome to the world of underground street racing. Chan is known for his flashy cars and confident attitude. You're new to the racing scene, eager but inexperienced. Felix is known for his sneaky tactics and charming demeanour. What happens when all three of your worlds collide?

Warnings: skz racer!au, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, passing out (very light stuff tho, nothing detailed), angsty reader hours, wc 3.3k

series masterlist

part 2 : the lollipop

Y/n stormed into the backstage area, whipping around on her heel and slamming the two-way door shut behind her. The doorframe creaked as she slid down against it. Frustrated, angry tears burned in her eyes.

Retrieving the second-hand helmet tucked under her arm, she tossed it across the dimly lit room. It landed with a quiet clunk onto the floor, rolling a few metres away before coming to rest against the leg of an old, worn-out, leather sofa.

Y/n groaned and slid further down the doorframe, limp hair mussing in tangles against the wood of the door. Her back hurt from the awkward position and her leather suit chafed uncomfortably against her sweat-slicked skin, but she couldn't have cared less.

A few hot tears spilled down her cheeks, adding to the wet saltiness of her face and jawline. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could, Y/n attempted to forget the memory. Making the deal with Chan, the best street racer in the city. Being so overconfident and sassy to him, positive she'd place a win, only to have spun out in the last few seconds of the race. She kicked herself mentally. How she have gotten so confident? She was a mere rookie, a beginner in the racing scene. And yet she had had the guts to pretend like she was one of THEM, dressed in an expensive, tailored racing suit, with a flashy, colorful car and a personal pit crew at the ready to respond to every whim and command.

On top of all of that, she couldn't believe she had accepted the deal wit Chan. She should have turned it down and made a name for herself. She should have let him know that she could stand on her own two feet, and that she could become one of them. It was likely, she realised, that if she had won and accepted a choice of racecar from Chan, he would have used it against her as leverage in every possible scenario. Y/n was disgusted at her gullibility and eagerness. She'd gotten so hasty that she'd forgotten all the implications and consequences that came with attempting to become a street racer.

As soon as her car had pulled to the side, Y/n had thrown open the rusty car door and fled to the backstage room, shoving through the crowd in her haste. The jeers and whooping from the other racers, coupled with the burning embarrassment and the cheers for the racer who'd actually won accumulated and swirled around her in a thick fog of shame, pathetic self-pity, and hopelessness, seeping into her bones and taking hold of her senses till it seemed that failure was woven into every single fibre of her being.

She couldn't shake the images from her mind. Chan, standing at the winner's podium, surrounded by adoring fans, raising a fist in blazing triumph. The almost sympathetic look he'd given her as she'd fled the arena. The steely glare and the tuts from the maintenance crew she'd paid for the night. The consistent, nagging feeling that she shouldn't have tried, shouldn't have gone further than simply entertaining the thought of being a street racer.

More than that, she felt humiliated.

Curling her knees to her chest, Y/n buried her face between them, inhaling the stale scent of leather and sweat. Everything was a colossal mess. If she was lucky, then maybe the universe would crack open beneath her feet and swallow her up in thick, molten rivers of lava and fiery tongues of flame. It would be better than having to face the entire arena of racers who had watched her lose her first race. Better than having to walk out, head hung in shame. She could already hear the taunts and jeers, though if they were from the racers milling around outside the backstage area or her own brain, she wasn't sure.

Look, it's that overconfident rookie!

She really thought she could win against Chan... what a joke...

If she's smart, she won't come back here.

The two-way door against Y/n's back suddenly swung open, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her head hit the dirty linoleum with an unpleasant thud. The world spun and she groaned, eyes shut. Hands flying to the sides of her head, she slowly opened her eyes, wincing. She could see two legs and the top of a pair of combat boots, all sheathed in dark, shiny leather, and further up-

Oh shit!

Flying bolt upright, Y/n turned and profusely apologized to the man standing in the doorway. Her knees hurt from the speed at which she'd whipped around on them but she ignored it, still blinded by the dazing pain in her head. Her cheeks flushed bright scarlet.

The man raised an eyebrow, pulling out something thin and white from between his lips. Y/n blinked, thinking it was a cigarette, but upon closer inspection, she could see the thin, white stick of a lollipop. He poked it back into his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. He didn't seem even mildly put out by the fact that Y/n had been staring up his crotch just a few moments earlier.

He was quite handsome, too. Maybe even a bit more than Chan. Somewhere in the subconscious realm of her thoughts, Y/n realised that the pretty yet staunch man in the doorway must have gotten used to being stared at. Whether it was by Y/n lying between his legs from where she'd fallen or by the other attractive girls out in the arena, he had the air of someone who had such beauty that there was no need to flaunt it.

Damn it, are all the male racers here attractive or what?

Y/n's frantic apologies faded off unsurely into the air as she stared back up at the man. She was on her knees, half-crouched, hands in front of her. She must have been frantically explaining and apologising for at least a minute now, but he hadn't said a word.

If anything, he looked intrigued.

They stared at each other a few minutes; Y/n's miserable, frantic, pleading expression contradicting his steady, sure gaze. Y/n finally collected her thoughts enough to actually look at him. He was very pretty at first sight, but up close Y/n could see faint white scars flecking his forearms, hands, and neck, as if something, or someone had scratched him. His eyes were dark and chocolatey, complementing the silky waves of purplish mahogany falling freely over his forehead, swept into a neat part in the middle. His mouth was a perfect, pink pout, glossy and rosy in the middle where he'd shifted the lollipop between them.

His outfit was a bit like Chan's but more casual, stylish shirtsleeves rolled to his arms and leather pants and boots, all in the same, intimidating shade of black. There was a large, abstract cutout in the shirt to the right side of his chest. A heavy silver chain and a wide- leather belt studded with tiny diamonds looped around his waist elegantly, framing his form.

Crouching before this absolute model of a man, Y/n felt like a common street urchin. Her mind wandered a little, and so did her eyes. But he still hadn't said anything. Y/n was beginning to wonder why he'd come into the room in the first place. Maybe to put her out of her misery. Attempting to speak, she cleared her throat.

"U-uhm..." Her voice came out thick, raw and croaky from crying. She clenched her fists and looked down suddenly, feeling a fresh wave of humiliated tears fill her eyes. He would mock her for sure.

"Hey, kid."

Y/n's head snapped up. His voice was soft and clear. Precise and measured. It wasn't like Chan's voice. Not at all. It was a little accented, but it was lovely. Pretty, almost.

Y/n tried to speak, willing her voice not to wobble. It came out quieter than she'd expected, a barely audible whisper. "Yes?"

"You're absolutely shit at racing, you know that?"

Y/n blinked, her misery temporary halted by the unexpectedly blunt statement. The man continued.

"That last turn was ass. Surely you can do better. You've got the skills, I can tell, but your reflexes need work."

Y/n gaped, dumbfounded. Who was this guy, waltzing into the room and critiquing her so bluntly? He looked like a proper racer, but still, there was no need to be so harsh about it. Y/n sighed and looked down, having come up with no retort to throw back in the man's face. She remained crouching, resigned to her fate.

She heard a small sigh from above here before a hand reached down, wrapping around her right bicep. It was gentle, but enough to lift Y/n to her feet. Firm, but not enough to hurt. His hand was quite large, rippled with veins, the knuckles a bit too big for the fingers. It was a pretty hand nonetheless, the skin smooth and tanned, and Y/n felt a small surge of thankful heat pool in her stomach at the unexpected, almost caring gesture.

Her knees throbbed faintly as she straightened herself. The man's grip on her arm loosened, but remained hovering uncertainly near, as if he was afraid she was going to fall. And in all honesty, Y/n did feel as if her legs were about to give out.

She stuttered a little as she spoke, her consciousness floating about her like a foggy daze. "T-thanks."

He tilted his head at her curiously. "Have you ever raced before? In a proper circuit?"

Unprepared for the direct question, Y/n averted his gaze, cheeks flushing. "No, I- tonight was my first time."

It must have been the adrenaline and the exhaustion surging through her body, but Y/n flushed even darker as she spoke, although her response carried no connotation whatsoever.

If he noticed, he didn't call her out on it, simply settling to fiddle with the lollipop stick still in his mouth. He let his hand fall from her arm back to his side, but it soon came back up to unexpectedly cradle the side of Y/n's head. She flinched at the surprising gesture, anticipating a hit from the racer, but he simply let his hand curve gently around the nape of her neck. He looked suddenly concerned and mildly put out.

"Did you know you've hurt yourself, by the way?"

Y/n blinked. She hadn't been previously aware of any injury on her body, but now that he had mentioned it, the back of her head stung a little, where her hairline met the soft skin of her neck. And she felt dazed, like she was floating...

Her hand came up to shakily press the back of her head, feeling for any sort of injury. When her fingertips met her nape, she felt a searing, white-hot shock of pain.

Her knees gave out and the racer was quick enough to dart forward, taking the brunt of the fall. He awkwardly looped his arm around Y/n's waist, holding her upright, and moved to sit her down on the flaking faux leather of the worn-out couch.

The world spun dizzyingly around her before going black.

~

Y/n woke to something cool and wet being pressed onto her forehead. Groaning weakly, she tensed her shoulders, testing her range of movement. She recognized the ceiling as being the backstage area; she must have remained in the same position on the couch after passing out.

A gentle, lulling hum came from her side. She turned her head to the right and saw the purplish-haired man from earlier, pressing a cool compress to her forehead. She exhaled heavily, eyes feeling baggy and tired. Closing her eyes, Y/n listened to the soft melody of the man's voice floating throughout the room. Her neck still hurt, but felt as if something had been wrapped around it; she figured a bandage of some sort. Weakly lifting her hand, she could faintly see specks of dried blood from where she'd previously touched her neck.

That confirmed her suspicions. She'd passed out because of the injury. Either that, or the exhaustion.

The man beside her poked her cheek, gently and not unkindly. A low chuckle came above her.

"Took you long enough,"

Y/m smiled, a watery, poor affair. Turning her head a little more, and wincing at the pain in her nape, she locked eyes with him.

"What time is it?"

He hummed. "Around two am. You passed out for a couple hours. Looked like your body could do with the rest, so I didn't wake you up," he paused his ministrations, gazing at her again with that deep, intense, yet gentle stare. "Did you have somewhere to be?"

Y/n shook her head minutely, pushing herself upright into a sitting position. She felt weak and boneless.

"I should go home," her voice trailed off, exhausted.

He looked up, mildly confused. "Home? I don't think you'd even make it out the door."

Y/n groaned. "Enough with the sassy comments. I'm going. Thank you for taking care of me-"

He stood suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder. His gaze was almost fierce, stubborn, protective. Like an older brother.

"You're not going home like this. Let me drive you."

Y/n shook her head wildly, immediately regretting it. The throbbing in her head subsided as she pressed her palms to her temples.

"It's fine," attempting to stand, Y/n moved towards the door, shakily and slowly. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber bands.

The man watched her, unimpressed. Moving towards her, he offered his arm with a sigh.

"Just take it. I'll drive you home."

Exasperated, Y/n glared up at him. "I don't even know you. You could be a murderer."

He scoffed in return, rolling his eyes. "No murderer is this attractive. Look, just take my arm. You walked here, right? So that means you don't live far away-"

Y/n interrupted him, a little panicked at his observational skills. "How did you know I walked here?"

"I saw you earlier, before the race. No motorbike, or skateboard, or car. Looking around the arena like a little kid seeing a plane in the sky. Mouth open and everything."

At this, Y/n smacked him on the shoulder, scoffing at his comparison. He didn't even budge, Y/n's hit doing nothing to move him. He simply took her arm, a little more insistently, and steered her towards the door.

It took about five minutes of back and forth arguing and half-hearted bickering before Y/n finally allowed the racer to drive her home.

I haven't got much left to lose anyway, she thought glumly.

She was led to the back end of the arena, where a little dark hallway opened into the street by a creaky door. A narrow, dark, alleyway gaped at the left side of the street, and the man walked her towards it, making sure not to jostle her.

The night was dark and quiet, everything still and silent. The yellow glow of the streetlights cast abstract patterns of light onto the glistening road, soaked with rain. It must have poured down while she was blacked out. She could still hear the faint pumping of hip-hop music and the occasional rev of a car in the arena behind her.

The man led her into the alleyway, softly pointing out objects for her to move around, and kicking stray cans and rocks out of the way, lest she trip. He was surprisingly nice, considering the blunt comment he'd made about her racing earlier.

He led her to a Kawasaki motorbike, hidden behind a dumpster. It was beautiful, a sleek, dark vehicle with streaks of neon green highlighting the wheels and seat. He offered her a hand onto it and saddled himself onto the bike, revving the engine once. Y/n clung to the sides of the backseat, awkwardly hanging on. The racer took a helmet that had been concealed on top of an old AC unit and slipped it on, the big, dark shield masking his face. He flipped it up and turned to look at her questioningly.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

Y/n blinked.

He sighed. "Hold onto me. Otherwise you'll fall off and die."

Y/n rolled her eyes at his sarcastic comment. "It's fine, just drive."

She was met with a groan and another rev of the engine. He suddenly sped forward half a metre or so, then stopped suddenly. Y/n was thrown forward, crashing into his back. She gasped, arms flying to lock around his waist. She heard an amused chuckle and a click as the man flipped his face shield back down. Cheeks flushing rosy in her embarrassment, Y/n buried her face into his back, fisting the material of his dark shirtsleeves. She could feel the rush of seeping, intoxicating heat radiating into her from his back. Her arms instinctively tightened around him as he sped off.

The wind whooshed in her ears, whipping up her hair and causing a deafening rush of noise to settle around her as the motorbike sped into the night. Y/n tugged on the left side of his shirt, signalling him to go left. He picked up on it without a single hint of doubt or hesitation and Y/n fought a smile, eyes closed as she pressed her cheek into his back, and continued to tug on either the left or right side in order to direct him.

After about ten minutes of gentle tugging, the man pulled up in front of Y/n's apartment complex. The sky was beginning to lighten a little, though the deep glow of twilight still hung over the sky like a blanket.

Y/n awkwardly slipped off the motorbike, stumbling as she dismounted. The racer offered her his hand, but she'd already gotten off the bike. It hovered in the air, unsure, before dropping back to his side, pulling at the fabric of his leather pants, and then travelled back to the handlebars, gripping them tightly. He then turned to her, flipping his shield up, then pausing before taking it off entirely. His hair fell in a mussed mess around his forehead, slightly fluffy. Somehow, Y/n liked it better that way. It looked more raw, more real.

More perfect.

When he spoke, it was quiet. Quiet but gentle, but loud enough to float around the both of them, ringing in the early morning. He cleared his throat hesitantly, as if Y/n was an animal he was trying not to spook.

"I- uh, I wasn't planning to murder you, if that's what you're worried about..."

Y/n laughed unexpectedly at the statement; the sound rung out loud and clear, lighting up the sky. It felt glorious to be defying the silence that hung in the atmosphere, thick as fog on a stormy day. Like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"Good to know," she giggled. "Um, thanks for the ride."

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, hand fiddling with the edge of the Kawasaki's windshield. The sleek, black helmet was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

Y/n turned to go, before pausing suddenly. Spinning on her heel, she thoughtfully looked at the man. He hadn't moved, simply watching her. Waiting. But it wasn't threatening or ominous in the least. It was protective, reliable. Like he was frozen, his dark, pretty eyes fixed on her own.

Y/n's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I never got your name..."

The man smiled. Pushed his fringe out of his eyes, readjusted the helmet under his arm. The dawning light behind him illuminated his outline, all sharp, sleek angles and edges. He chuckled lightly, more airy, light exhale than sound.

"Minho."

a/n: likes, comments, reblogs appreciated !

lonely st. ✧ chapter vii : the people who care

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: usual warnings (see masterlist for all), descriptions of a panic attack, nightmares, fainting, jisung cries, mentions of eating, mentions of feeling isolated

a/n: this chapter starts off a little darker so please read the warnings before continuing ! <3

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Hyunjin woke with a jolt, covered in sweat.

His hair was plastered to the back of his neck, bare chest heaving with exertion, like he'd just run a marathon. His hands clenched the bedsheets beside his hips as he tried to calm himself down, processing what he'd just dreamed.

Glancing across to the mirror in the corner of his room, he noticed his cheeks were rosy in the reflection, his ears burning scarlet. He took a deep breath and he stood shakily, feeling unusually unsteady on his feet. He felt sick.

He moved to the mirror and inspected his reflection before turning abruptly on his heel, unable to bear the sight of his own face, reflected back scared and pale in the darkness of the room.

Sighing and moving to the bathroom, he noticed how dark it was outside. He'd woken ridiculously early, though he didn't notice, too focused on splashing cold water on his face, trying to cool himself down.

Inhaling shakily, he leant over the sink, trying to forget the images burnt into his mind. Feeling a wave of nausea pass over him, his knees gave out without warning and he awkwardly hit the tiled floor with a thud, head lolling back against the sink cabinet.

Hyunjin closed his eyes.

Everything was quiet and dark.

Hyunjin felt serene, like he was underwater, surveying the lights and chaos going on above the surface. The sounds around him felt muffled and distant, like the feeling of water seeping into his ears.

He stretched an arm out, feeling hazy and disconnected from his limbs. He moved his fingers faintly, feeling numb, like he was watching someone else's arm move instead of his own. He was just a presence floating delicately in the air, sinking til he met the ground.

He saw Y/n above the surface; her outline blurred and faded by the ripples of water. He thrashed wildly, though he had no strength, trying to reach her. But it was like a boulder had been tied to his ankles, and he sank further into the abyss...

He screamed underwater and a stream of bubbles left his mouth, water gurgling in his lungs as he screamed with everything he had left.

Y/n, come back!

He felt himself being lifted out of the water, the water dripping off him and leaving him feeling heavy and saturated. Someone tugged on his arm as he began to sink back down, into unconsciousness. A faint burst of sunlight broke through the hazy, foggy mass surrounding him like a cloying perfume. He heard voices, calling out to him, frantic and strained.

"Hyunjin! Hyunjin, wake up!"

"Hyunjin!"

"HYUNJIN!"

He took a heaving, shuddering breath, his cloudy eyes opening to meet Jisung's.

He looked as worried as Hyunjin had ever seen him; through the fog hanging over his head, he noticed his friend's face was pale and his eyes were rimmed in red, like he'd been crying. His voice sounded faraway.

"Felix, he's awake!"

The blonde haired boy rushed in, holding a bottle of water. Though the sink was directly above them, Felix knelt down and uncapped the bottle, jerking it so a gush of the water hit Hyunjin squarely in the face.

He coughed, some of it going down his throat. Leaning over, he propped himself up on his elbows. His lower half was spread across the tiles, and he felt numb; he wasn't sure he could stand. His head throbbed suddenly and he let himself be pulled into Jisung's lap, gasping weakly.

Jisung scoffed despite the singular tear streaking down his cheek. "Felix, I said he was awake. You didn't have to splash the water."

Felix shrugged worriedly, looking at Hyunjin.

Jisung stroked his friend's hair, trailing a hand down his shoulder in a soothing pattern. His voice was low and cracked.

"Hyunjin, what happened?"

Felix followed up his friend's concerned question.

"Yeah, man. We were supposed to hang out this morning, and Jisung kept calling you because you didn't show up. And I tried contacting you too, but when you didn't respond after forty minutes, we got worried and came here.

We knew you were home alone because you told us your parents were away for a couple weeks on a trip, so we figured something happened."

Jisung whispered, his voice echoing in the silent space.

"We found you passed out right here and both of us freaked. You've been out for who knows how long..."

Hyunjin coughed and sat up. True to Jisung's word, he was still in his boxers, which he'd slept in, and his upper back hurt from where he'd slumped against the cabinet. His head hurt a little too and he was fighting to stay awake.

Felix shared a worried glance with his friend, biting his lip. "Hyunjin, can you stand?"

He weakly shook his head.

Both boys slipped an arm around Hyunjin's torso, lifting him from the tiles and through to his bedroom. Felix knelt in front of his friend, keeping a hand on his knee to ground him.

His voice was soft. "What do you remember, Hyunjinnie?"

Hyunjinnie.

Wasn't that what Y/n called him the other day? Hyunjinnie.

The images from his nightmare flooded back into his mind, flashing and searing, tossing him under waves, making his head spin. He saw Y/n's smile, her hands delicate and pretty as she held her pencil, sketching image after image. She looked up just as he threw a basketball to her, grinning.

His left hand ached suddenly, his fingers closing around nothing, missing the feeling of her warm hand in his, like when she'd held it in the classroom. A singular, whispered phrase swum between the racing thoughts and flashing images in his mind.

I missed you too, Hyunjinnie.

"Don't leave me," he cried weakly to her, gasping, though she wasn't there, much to his distress.

Felix's voice was shaky as he moved to comfort his friend. "Hyunjin, it's okay. We're not going anywhere, just breathe-"

"I can't-"

"Shh, it's okay, we got you. Don't worry, just in and out, okay? You can do it, just breathe with us..."

Jisung murmured to Hyunjin in soft, soothing tones, Felix rubbing his knees, trying to calm him.

Felix tilted Hyunjin's chin up after a while, wiping away his friend's tears, though they were immediately replaced.

"Y/n-" Hyunjin cried weakly.

Felix and Jisung shared a surprised, worried glance. Piecing the events together, Jisung rubbed his friend's back, whispering to him reassuringly.

"Hyunjin, it's okay."

Felix nodded. "Y/n's not going anywhere. Did you dream about her?"

Hyunjin nodded, a hiccupping sob escaping his mouth.

"I want her to come back.."

"Wait, so he thought I died?"

Y/n's voice sounded through Felix's phone speaker as he paced, feet padding across the sunlight-dappled floor of Hyunjin's living room.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "He's not telling us what happened, but we figured he probably had a nightmare, something involving you."

"Oh. Is he okay?"

Felix glanced across at the couch, where Hyunjin sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, face buried between them. Jisung had his head leaning on his friend's shoulder, whispering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances to him in a constant, unending stream.

Felix bit his lip. "I'm not sure."

Y/n sounded worried, her voice becoming quieter over the phone. "Can I talk to him?"

Felix sighed, walking a little closer, and covered his phone with his hand. "Hyunjin, do you want to talk to her?"

The boy looked so dazed and out of it that Felix immediately brought his phone back to his ear.

"Yeah, I don't think he's up to it..."

Y/n let out a worried sigh over the phone, feeling anxiety creep up on her. "Just- keep an eye on him for me, okay?"

Felix nodded, forgetting he was over the phone and she couldn't see him.

"Felix?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

Felix ended the call, looking to Jisung, who still had his arm draped over his distraught friend's shoulders.

"Let's get you something to eat, Hyunjin."

Walking into the classroom, Felix set his belongings down on the desk, before turning to Jisung who was a couple desks away.

"Is Hyunjin coming in today?" He asked.

"He is, actually."

Both boys looked up at the sight of their friend; Jisung immediately stood up and threw his arms around the boy, squeezing him tight around the middle.

"Hi, Sung," Hyunjin wheezed, clapping his friend on the back. "I'm feeling better, don't worry."

Felix scoffed, getting up to hug his friend anyway. "You're lucky we didn't tell your parents."

"Yeah," Hyunjin chuckled. "They would have freaked. But I'm okay now."

Hyunjin sat down in his usual spot as the teacher began to call the roll. He checked his timetable; usually he knew off by heart what classes he was due for the day, but the events of the weekend had left him feeling unusually forgetful. Jisung had told him it was nothing to worry about, just some lingering aftereffects.

Checking in his bag, Hyunjin dug inside for a pen to mark off something on his schedule, and his fingers closed around a ballpoint. Drawing it out, he blinked in surprise.

It was Y/n's, the one he'd stolen almost two months ago.

He smiled ruefully to himself. I bet she hasn't forgotten about it all this time. She's not forgetful like me.

Realising he had a class with her next, he slotted his timetable and notebook back into his bag, wondering if she also remembered his offer for her to sit with him. He mentally facepalmed; he shouldn't have asked her to sit with him over text. It would just make it awkward if he had to ask her again face-to-face. Especially if she wasn't planning to sit with him at all.

Glancing up as the bell rang, he stood unsurely as the other students filtered out of the room, brushing past him while laughing and chattering.

Felix accompanied him on the walk, since his classroom was just a few doors down from Hyunjin's and he kept up a steady stream of excitable chatter, talking about this and that, not letting Hyunjin get a word in edgeways.

Which suited him just fine, since he was preoccupied with other thoughts. So he let Felix ramble on without interruption, only stopping to quickly say bye before slipping into his class.

He sat down in his usual spot at the back, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. His eyes darted about the classroom, trying to spot the telltale shimmer of her keyrings and pins on her bag, but it was nowhere to be seen. He relaxed with a sigh of relief. Spreading one leg slightly, he pushed it under the leg of the chair next to him, inconspicuously saving the seat. Hopefully for Y/n.

A familiar scent filled the air, vanilla and cinnamon, and Yeji pulled out the chair next to Hyunjin, almost catching his foot in the process. She dumped her belongings down before moving to sit next to him with a grin.

"Hey, Jinnie."

Hyunjin stuttered, his plan falling apart. "Hey."

Yeji peered down into his face, still standing, one hand planted firmly on the back of the chair. It moved slowly to the back of Hyunjin's chair til she was leaning almost over him, her knuckles brushing his back. A shiver went down his spine and he straightened a little, trying to redirect his focus to the classroom door.

"Sorry," he said quietly, bracing. "You can't sit here."

Yeji's smile dropped. "Why not?"

"Just can't."

Yeji's grin returned, wide and pearly, and it reminded Hyunjin of the Cheshire cat-style bandaid Y/n had given him. He rubbed his knee subconsciously, where the bandaid sat stuck neatly to the skin.

"Oh, I see," she teased. "Saving it for someone?"

Hyunjin nodded mutely before speaking up. "Y/n's coming soon, and I asked her to sit with me. Sorry."

Clearly Yeji was not expecting this response, because she spluttered, flicking her hair over her shoulder haughtily.

"Fine," she huffed suddenly, her tone laced with savagery. "Save it for your little loser friend."

Hyunjin made to nastily retort back at her, before his eyes flitted to the classroom door and Y/n walked in. He shoved the anger down inside him before smiling at her. He sat back down and looked up at her expectantly as she walked up to him.

Y/n glanced at the seat next to him shyly, pointing a finger.

"Yeah," he nodded, his tone soft. He couldn't keep the smile from his face.

Y/n slid into the seat and the class commenced. The teacher announced the content would be on the term exam and normally, Hyunjin would have zoned in, writing down notes and organizing his schedule (usually much to Jisung's disgust), but all he could think about was the girl sitting next to him.

They were sitting together.

He looked out the window, relief and happiness settling over him like a pleasant, dreamy cloud. His plan had worked. He felt a finger poke lightly into his bicep and he looked across as Y/n slid him a note.

Felix told me you fainted on the weekend. Are you feeling better?

He took the note and wrote a reply, his pen feeling slippery and unsteady in his hands.

Yeah, I'm okay. I had a nightmare and I must have gotten freaked out.

He slid it back to her, their fingers brushing momentarily. Her next reply was quick.

Nightmare? About what?

Hyunjin bit his lip. Should he tell her? Would she think it was weird or perverted that he'd dreamt about her? It had no romantic or suggestive connotation about it, but he still felt that there would be a chance that she thought it was kind of disgusting. Who dreamt about their friends? Maybe she would take it the wrong way.

But it wasn't like that, he told himself firmly, scribbling his reply.

You.

He heard Y/n make a little, almost inaudible squeak, like she was surprised, and he propped his head up on his elbow, putting his hand across his mouth to hide his smile.

Her reply came back.

Damn, am I that much of a horror to be friends with?

Hyunjin scoffed quietly.

No, of course not.

She wrote a response.

Then what happened in the nightmare?

Hyunjin took a deep breath, trying to stop his knee from bouncing rapidly under the desk. Should he tell her? He decided that she wouldn't mind. Besides, he was already this far in. He couldn't back out now.

I dreamt that you left me. And I kept calling for you but you weren't there. I felt like I was drowning...

He passed the note back across the desk with shaking fingers, biting the inside of his cheek.

Y/n passed the note back quickly, and Hyunjin's heart sank. Now his suspicions were confirmed. She thought it was weird..

Opening the note and moving to glance back at the sentence he'd written that had supposedly ruined everything, he was surprised to see that there was a small reply written under it.

I'm here now, Hyunjinnie. I promise I won't leave. Not if you don't want me to, of course.

Hyunjin felt his cheeks tingle, and moved to tug lightly at the lobe of his ear, which were now painted a shade of rich cherry red. She'd shown him time and time again that she was sweet, and honestly rather sentimental, but it had continued to surprise him. And with each time, his felt his heart swelling more and more, and expanding to accommodate her affection, coupled with his own. So much that he felt his heart would burst if they continued the way he did.

The bell rang for the end of class and Y/n moved to pack up her belongings, sparing Hyunjin a soft nod and a glance before moving to leave. She stopped to turn back, assuming he would get up and walk with her, but he dismissed her with a small, nervous smile, murmuring something about extra homework from another class. She nodded again and left.

So maybe she wasn't much of a talker, but oh, how she could make him feel.

"Y/NNNNNNN!"

Said girl let out a squeak as Jisung collided with her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a hug. She exhaled a laugh, patting his forearms, and kept walking, taking smaller steps so as not to trip both herself and Jisung over.

He kept his arms around her, waddling awkwardly behind and spouting his daily nonsense straight into Y/n's ear. She didn't mind, looking up to see Felix and Hyunjin waiting outside the school gates. Jisung steered her from behind towards them, almost colliding with the iron bars of the gate.

Y/n let out a small sound as she put her hands against the wall. "Oof, be careful- Ew, it's wet."

It had been raining earlier, and the smell of petrichor hung in the air, laced with the smell of watery mud and the rain-soaked blazers of the students filing out of the school campus. She'd heard a couple girls in her class complaining about the rain, but she found she quite liked the weather. It was much more familiar to see the sky all grey and overcast than to walk out and be blinded by the sun.

Groaning in disgust, she waved her hands at Felix, who ducked, whining.

"Y/n! Go dry your hands."

Sighing nonchalantly, she wiped her right hand on Jisung's sleeve, the boy gaping at her in open-mouthed horror. He glanced down at his sleeve, checking that it wasn't stained, before skipping past her, down the street. Having seemingly forgotten about Y/n's damp hands, he turned back and seized Hyunjin's hand, telling him about the latest drama he'd heard in the hallways.

Y/n discreetly wiped her hands on the tail of Jisung's blazer before dropping back to walk alongside Felix. He smiled at her before calling out something to Hyunjin.

"Yah, Hyunjin! Wanna go to Bbokari's?"

The dark-haired boy checked his phone before turning his head and nodding. Felix let out a hum before asking Jisung the same thing. He readily agreed and turned himself so he was facing Y/n, walking backwards and clinging onto Hyunjin's arm to talk to her.

He grinned at her eagerly. "You should come with us!"

Y/n felt a silent stutter escape her lungs, her mouth opening just a little bit as she was thrust into the spotlight. All three pairs of the boys' eyes were trained on her, waiting for her response.

"Sorry," she said inaudibly, suddenly unable to speak.

Felix leaned forward a little as he walked, nudging her gently with his shoulder and sending a rush of heat radiating into her skin through her blazer.

"Come on," he said gently to her, smiling. "It'll be fun. Just like when we played basketball together."

Y/n found her eyes drifting to Hyunjin; he'd been looking at her while Felix had been talking, but at the eye contact, he suddenly busied himself with checking his pockets. Y/n felt her spirit sink a little and she considered making up a lie so she wouldn't have to go with them.

Not that she didn't want to. But it was difficult, and she knew she would end up feeling downcast and isolated if she told them she couldn't go. But if she said yes, she risked being left out; she risked being a spectator to their animated conversations, and honestly, Y/n couldn't stand the thought of being an invisible presence in yet another friend group. Just the lingering feeling made her visibly blanch, but she was snapped out of it when Jisung poked her shoulder.

"Pleaseeee?" He dragged out the word, pouting at her, his eyes wide and dark like boba balls.

Y/n glanced at him, unsure.

Jisung continued to drag the word out, his voice getting higher and higher and his face becoming redder and redder with the constant, forced exhale of a word.

Felix let out a low whistle. "If you don't give him an answer, he'll just keep going. No offence, but I don't feel like dragging a passed-out Jisung to Bbokari's."

Y/n let her eyes drift to Felix, the group still walking. Her voice was quiet, hesitant, like she was afraid she would scare him away if she spoke too loud. "What is Bbokari's?"

Felix beamed at her. "It's my parents' shop. Like a convenience store, but there's a seating area where there's a microwave and a coffee maker and stuff. We always buy food and my parents give Hyunjin and Jisung friend discounts because they come round all the time. Also, I live upstairs to the store."

Y/n nodded subconsciously, taking in all the information.

"She nodded!" Jisung screeched, jumping up and down and almost dislocating Hyunjin's arm, still in his grip. "She said yes!"

Y/n yelped as Felix took her arm, Jisung letting go of Hyunjin to take her hand, leading her forwards at an alarming pace down the street. The sudden flurry of movement around her meant she almost tripped, Jisung and Felix's combined grips on her being the only thing stopping her from falling.

"W-wait!" Y/n protested, struggling against their grip. "That's not what I meant! I was nodding to Felix-"

It was useless; they were far stronger that she had previously assumed. She felt like a twig in their firm but gentle grip.

Jisung cackled, his laugh floating up and mingling with the last few spatters of rain falling from the grey, cloudy sky.

"Too late. You're coming with us."

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

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

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

gatecrasher - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

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

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

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

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

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

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

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

For now.

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

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

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

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

"You too, gatecrasher."

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

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

"What now?" You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. One that we broke into."

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

You grin. "Greater good, my a-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, because I'm supervising."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you and Changbin whisper in unison.

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

"Hyunjin-" You protest.

"Onetwothreego-"

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

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

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

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

"Two three go!"

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

Heya! Do you take requests?

ya

YOUR BACK OMGG YIPPIEEEEE

maybe i never left . . .

lonely st. ✧ chapter ii : the first glimpse

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: lonely reader, school!au, hyunjin gets a minor injury ft. concerned basketballers jisung and felix, awkward y/n

a/n: i had so much fun writing jisung's dialogue, he is truly best friend goals

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Hyunjin leaned against the lockers, his long, lean frame sagging onto the slightly dented metal surface. Early morning sunlight filtered in through the school windows. He held a basketball in his hands and was turning it thoughtfully, lost in his own mind.

"-and then she said to me, like, all whiny, Jisung, you can't eat that, I need it for my science dissection- Yah. YAH. Hyunjin! Have you even been listening to my story?"

Hyunjin's head snapped up, wide, unfocused eyes meeting his friend's. He shook his head lightly.

Jisung groaned, slamming his locker door shut and snatching the basketball from Hyunjin. He tossed it up in the air a couple times and made to fake-pass it to his friend.

Hyunjin flinched, his hands coming up unsurely.

"Man, you're really out of it," Jisung said in half-concern, half-wonder. "You never fall for the fake-pass thing. What's up?"

Hyunjin sighed, shaking his head. "I- um, just haven't been sleeping that well lately. It's fine."

Jisung scoffed as they both began to walk to their morning basketball practice. He absentmindedly tossed the ball up in the air, catching it with a smooth, practiced ease.

"Nice try, dude. You sleep like a dead log. Come on, just tell me."

Hyunjin sighed, for once feeling a little irritated towards his best friend and his unusually perceptive nature. But he shoved it down without a second thought.

He's only trying to help.

"I, um- there's this girl," he began unsurely.

Jisung let out a highly overexaggerated gasp, his breath catching in his throat. He dropped the basketball and doubled over, thumping his chest. Sighing and patting Jisung's back firmly, Hyunjin jogged to pick the ball up.

Jisung stood up, gasping as he cleared his throat loudly. He was grinning ear to ear, a sly smirk twinging at the corners of his mouth.

"Ohhh, I see. No, no, I get it. A girl," he drew the last word out, smirking at his friend.

Normally, Hyunjin would have shoved him playfully, teasing and laughing. But his face didn't betray even the slightest hint of a smile. He just couldn't feel cheerful if he tried, too buried in his thoughts to do anything but the smallest and most necessary of movements.

Jisung tilted his head at him, looking genuinely worried. Hyunjin was staring at the floor, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought. Or distress. Or in mad, uncontrollable love.

Or all three, Jisung thought.

"Hyunjin, do you think Coach will split us into training teams for the championship rounds? Because he did that last time, and I got stuck with your idiot friend here."

Jisung whined, tossing a half-empty can of deodorant at Felix, who caught it effortlessly.

"I'm not that bad," Jisung huffed. Felix just rolled his eyes, turning back to his changing locker with a subtle mutter of 'yes you are'.

The locker room was unusually quiet; most likely due to the early hour. No sane teenage boy wanted to be at school this early, and not for basketball practice at the very least either. Not that Hyunjin noticed, still lost in his thoughts.

Felix tugged his shirt off tiredly, digging through his bag for his jersey and shorts. He moved next to Jisung, picking up his clothes where he'd left them lying on the bench. Slipping his jersey on with a disgruntled huff, he leant in to whisper discreetly to his friend.

"Is Hyunjin okay? He's been standing like that for, like, fifteen minutes."

True to Felix's word, Hyunjin had been standing at his changing locker for a while. His usual white shirt was half tugged off, his jersey hanging limply from his hands. He was staring down dimly into his bag, where unbeknownst to his friends, he'd hidden Y/n's pen.

"I don't know," Jisung whispered back. "He's been like that all morning."

Felix's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Do you know what happened?"

Jisung sighed, slipping his own jersey on. "Some girl. I don't know. But he's been super down for some reason."

Felix's voice was low and conspiratorial. "Do you think he got dumped by some chick?"

Jisung shook his head. "Nah, I would have known. He won't talk much, though, so I just left him to it, I guess."

"Maybe he just needs time."

Jisung nodded somberly. He watched as the other boys filtered out of the locker room in yawning, hair-ruffled groups to the indoor courts.

Felix glanced at Hyunjin sympathetically before shrugging and moving away.

"Come on, boys, pick up those feet! Felix, Changbin is open, pass, pass! Like that!"

The squeaking of shoes against the polished courts and the thud of the basketball bouncing were the only sounds in the spacious, sunny gym.

Jisung wiped his sweaty forehead, tossing the ball back to Changbin as they weaved their way down the courts. They'd been playing a lot of practice games lately in preparation for the upcoming schools' championship. Glancing back at Hyunjin, who was still dragging his feet and definitely not on his usual game, Jisung sighed before running to catch up and defend his team member, who was attempting to shoot.

Hyunjin looked up just as the ball flew towards him; he caught it reflexively and began dribbling down the court. Felix, who was on the other team, made to snatch it; Hyunjin stepped back just as Felix stepped forward.

Making to dribble around his friend, Hyunjin dodged to the left, his foot catching, and fell to the floor with a sickening thud, the air whooshing unpleasantly out of his lungs.

Felix knelt down immediately, asking if he was okay, and Jisung jogged over just as Hyunjin rolled over, heaving. Felix gasped. Struggling to his hands and knees, he let his friends pull him upright. Coach blew his whistle, brows furrowing in concern, eyes zeroing in on his star player's face.

"Hyunjin! Take five. And go wash your face."

Groaning, he dragged himself off the courts and to the side, sitting down heavily on the bench. Pressing a hand to his stomach, he fought the urge to shout in frustration.

Jisung and Felix glanced at each other worriedly before resuming the game.

Hyunjin couldn't stand it anymore. Getting up with a huff, he muttered something about getting a drink and headed out of the gym, pushing the double doors shut behind himself. He wandered down the corridor, trying to ignore the slight throb in his chest. He'd fallen a lot harder than expected.

A sudden thud to his left made him look across into the opposite connecting corridor. He slipped back just in time, peeking into the hallway.

Y/n was on her hands and knees, trying to gather a stack of books, which had been scattered across the floor. Hyunjin wondered if she'd fallen over, or tripped maybe.

A group of girls from their grade were walking past, giggling and chatting about the latest whatever. Hyunjin's hands tightened on the wall just as they pointedly looked away from Y/n as they passed by, who had looked up for help.

Hyunjin stepped back into the corridor just as the girls disappeared down the hallway. Checking that they were gone, he began walking as casually as possible down the hallway, kneeling in front of Y/n. He picked up one of her books, a sleek, dark sketchpad.

"Hi," he said cautiously.

Y/n glanced at him warily before taking the sketchpad from Hyunjin's hand. She gathered the rest of her belongings and stood up, her eyes flitting to him, still kneeling.

"You're bleeding," she said hesitantly, quietly. Then she turned and walked away.

Hyunjin pressed a hand to his cheek, his fingertips coming away lightly stained in red.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, a pencil flicking between her fingertips. Scribbling down a few notes in her notebook, she set the pencil down and picked up her novel, flipping to the latest page. She smoothed out the folded corner before settling down to read.

The library was pretty much empty at lunchtimes; hardly anyone came in besides the few senior students looking for study references. Y/n thought it rather a shame; it was a lovely place, all tall, dark shelves and little hidden corners to read in. Sunlight filtered in through the arched glass windows and drew patterns across the long, polished tables.

At the same time, she was grateful; it was both a blessing and a curse that she had the opportunity to be alone. She liked being in the library, spending her spare time delving into books and sketching little drawings in her pad.

No distractions, no drama, no friends, no company.

Y/n had learned to accept the fact that she was a loner, a social outcast. Sure, she had a sort of friend group, with Sangmi, Ha-eun, Yeji, and Aeri, but they never really included her. They did try, Y/n supposed, but she never felt the spark of a social connection, never felt like she was truly part of the group.

And besides, Y/n reasoned, they always talked about things Y/n either didn't understand or wasn't a part of. The latest song release, their love lives, Sangmi's amazing achievements, the newest drama in their grade. They had all been friends since primary school, while Y/n had sort of become a pseudo-member only a couple years ago. She was a weird growth stemming off to the side, not a stranger but not exactly welcomed either.

At least, she felt like she was unwelcomed. Maybe it was just her head getting to her, but Y/n just couldn't shake the feeling of alienation. And it ate at her more and more every day. It was just easier to keep her head down and pretend like she didn't care. It was just so much easier to be alone, even if it hurt.

A sudden shuffling of footsteps halted her spiraling thoughts. Y/n hastily buried her face in her book.

Hyunjin sat down cautiously opposite her, sliding into the seat. He opened his notebook and began scribbling something.

Y/n blinked in surprise, the feeling quickly overtaken by half a scowl. Why was he always everywhere? The pen-borrowing in class, the falling over this morning, and now here. Speaking of, he still hadn't given her pen back. What did he want?

He's probably sitting with me out of curiosity or pity, Y/n thought. Or he thinks I'm trying to get his attention. Stupid, sporty boy.

Y/n huffed and slid further down in her chair, glaring over the rim of her book. Hyunjin hadn't looked up; he was quietly working on something, brows furrowed slightly in concentration. He wasn't disturbing her, or being pushy, just- sitting there.

But why here, of all places?

Y/n noticed the little cut across his cheekbone. He must have washed it out after she'd told him. She wondered what had happened; maybe he got hurt at basketball. After all, she knew he played, and he had been in his jersey when he'd moved to help her pick up her books.

He was dressed in his usual white shirt, the sleeves half rolled up his forearms. His dark tie was slightly loose under the grey sweater vest, which was a tad too big. Y/n grudgingly thought that the oversized style suited him much better anyway. He was missing his usual dark blazer.

Hesitantly, she set down her book, eyeing Hyunjin across the table. He didn't look up, still writing. Reaching into the front pocket of her bag, she pulled out a bandaid, a little cutesy chicken face detailed in yellow across it. She slid the paper-packaged item across the table to him.

"You shouldn't leave injuries uncovered, stupid," she said to him disapprovingly. "It'll get infected."

Hyunjin smiled at her warmly despite the quip, carefully undoing the adhesive strips and sticking the bandaid over the cut.

"Thanks. At least it's covered now."

Y/n nodded awkwardly, still half-glaring at him. She picked up her book, trying to focus.

"Do you always carry around bandaids?"

Y/n looked up at Hyunjin. "What?"

"You know," he gestured to her bag. "D'you keep a stash of them?"

She nodded.

"How come?" he said quietly, curiously. His face brightened suddenly. "Do you play sports too?"

Y/n scoffed. "No."

"Oh. Then why?"

"I- I just fall over a lot."

Hyunjin nodded, settling back into his chair with an effortless smile, effectively ending the small conversation.

She's lying through her teeth, he observed. Y/n never stutters.

"How's your little friend, Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder at Jisung behind him, who was leaning on the desk with one hand, head propped up. The worksheet they were supposed to be filling out in groups was blank under his forearms.

Hyunjin scoffed just as Jisung smirked. He leaned in so no one could overhear, the chatter in the classroom masking his low voice.

"Don't be like that," he said quietly. "It's not-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jisung's voice tilted to a whiny, high-pitched lilt. "It's not like that. Heard it before, dude. C'mon. You like her, right?"

Hyunjin scoffed. "No."

"You sure?"

"She just seems really alone, so I thought I'd sit with her."

Jisung's smirk dropped in realisation. "Oh."

They both glanced behind themselves to where Y/n sat in the corner by herself, diligently filling out the worksheet. It had been ten minutes and she was already almost done. As per usual.

Jisung winced. "Hyunjin, as your best friend, I say this from the bottom of my heart; you can do a lot better."

Hyunjin slapped his friend sharply upside the head. "I told you, it's not like that. It's not a crime to talk to someone who seems really lonely."

Jisung rubbed the back of his head, huffing. "Alright, sorry, sorry. It's just that she seems really intense."

Hyunjin tugged at his tie thoughtfully. "She's pretty upfront and honest, I guess, but not mean like most people think. You know how I fell over at practice this morning?"

Jisung nodded, straight faced. "It was a very graceful, elegant fall."

"Shut up. Anyway, I went to the library to finish my essay at lunchtime and I went to sit with her. She gave me this bandaid."

Jisung tilted his head, smiling slightly. "I was wondering who gave you that. Felix will be jealous. He loves chickens."

Hyunjin saddled a leg over his chair, crossing his arms and leaning on the back of it to face Jisung. A long, dark bang fell into his face and he pushed it back impatiently.

"She's really not that bad. And besides, maybe all she needs is a friend. It can't be easy being so alone all the time."

Jisung hummed, balancing his pen on a finger. "Maybe she wants to be alone."

Hyunjin went silent. Maybe she did. But he figured there was no harm in at least becoming an acquaintance.

"Yeah, maybe," he said quietly. "But she kept looking at me curiously when I sat with her in the library earlier. She seemed really surprised that I chose to sit with her. And like I said, she wasn't being mean, just- a little awkward. Like she wasn't sure what to do."

Jisung absentmindedly ripped off a corner of his worksheet. "I feel really bad for her, to be honest."

"Then help me become friends with her."

Jisung spluttered, tossing the ripped corner off the side of the desk. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, picking the scrap up and shoving it into his friend's hand.

"Don't litter. Anyway, maybe she could do with some company."

"You have no clue about what kind of person she is, Hyunjin. Maybe she's just going through something."

"Sung, come on. How would you feel if everyone at school ignored you and you were a complete loner?"

"Well, first of all, I am a totally sick person, so that would never even happen in the first place-"

"Jisung."

"Oh, okay, fine," he threw his hands up. "Just keep talking to her and being nice and whatnot. See if she opens up or starts talking. Step up. I'm just worried about you getting caught up in something you don't understand."

Hyunjin shook his head vehemently. "I won't get caught up in anything. I promise."

Jisung huffed, twirling his pen. "Yeah, okay, we'll see. Now, let me copy your worksheet answers. I've already had five detentions this week."

taglist (open) : @kozumesphone

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

Hi ttokki!! I love the way you write the members being soft and caring for reader :) wanted to request 9th member where she is similar age to chan, so noona to most of the guys, being maybe like his second in command in caring for everyone, cooking, teaching choreo and stuff. Where they realise she's not been taking good care of herself for a while, like skipping meals or sleep bc she feels responsible like she doesnt deserve it. Just soft and gently, you are so skilled at that

hiyo~ thank you sm, love. i liked this request, i tend to do the same for people around me and it's easy to forget yourself sometimes >< hope this hits the spot . . .

rest easy - ot8!skz x exhausted!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x exhausted noona!reader

summary: taking care of skz can be a lot of work, but you tend to forget yourself in the process...

genre: lil bit angsty, idol!au, tired minho with a headache, overexcited skz (what's new), mentions of skipping meals, slight mention of blood (a small injury), mentions of overwork, fatigue, and exhaustion, mentions of food and eating, sulky maknaes, slight allude to reader x chan

a/n: reader pretty much replaces minho for the role of skz mom (sorry min), divider by @kodaswrld

skz masterlist

"Jisung, take that out of your mouth- Seungmin, no, don't give it back to him... You two, stop fighting-"

You smile and lean your head on your hand, watch Chan attempt to wrangle the members, most of which have had far too much sugar to be at a controllable level. You're sitting at the hotel table, and most of the other members are messing about in the lounge area. Everyone but for Minho, who went to lie down earlier, complaining of a headache.

Speaking of, you should probably go check on him.

Getting up and putting your empty glass in the sink, you make your way past the group and down the hallway of bedrooms, entering the second-left door. You're greeted with darkness and a faint groan from within the heap of rumpled sheets on the bed.

"Minho?" You call softly, pulling the door half-shut so as not to disturb him with the hallway light. You walk up to the bed, quiet as a mouse. "How are you feeling?"

He just groans in response as you gently pull back the sheets, checking his temperature just in case he's fallen ill. "Noona..."

"Shh," you quiet him gently, soothing. "Does it hurt much?"

He shakes his head, his hair splayed against the pillow. Likely he's just tired from the day's events. You sit on the end of the bed and stroke his hair for a while, lulling him to sleep. He's already had medicine, and you kiss his forehead gently before getting up to leave.

Shutting the door, you're met with Jeongin and Seungmin, who cling to either one of your arms, sulking. You chuckle and sit down on the lounge couch, both of them burying their faces in your neck.

"What's wrong, you two?" You ask, ruffling Seungmin's hair.

"Chan-hyung told us off," Jeongin whines.

You mock-frown at the leader, who is standing in baggy black clothes, a disapproving expression on his face. He face-palms and you stick your tongue out at him. He scoffs, though you can detect a hint of affection behind it, and claps his hands.

"Alright, you drama kings. Bed."

.

"Hyunjin, take it easy," you say, concerned as he runs through the choreo for a fifth time. "Take a break."

He seems to not have heard, because he keeps dancing with even greater fervour. Sighing, you take his ear and drag him to the side, ignoring his protests. Tossing him a towel and giving him a bottle of water, you place a hand on his leg. You know he's been pushing himself lately, to the point where you had to lock the hotel room door so he wouldn't sneak out at night to practice.

You're all outside at the concert venue, doing soundchecks a few hours before the event commences, and it's cloudy, the wind blowing a breeze through everyone's hair. Chan comes over, frazzled, papers flying behind him, his cap half-falling off, and his fingers covered in bandaids from several clumsy, hastened tasks he had to do.

"I forgot to do the song breaks," he gasps, his hair disheveled. Hyunjin side-eyes him through a sip of water.

You adjust his cap, smoothing down the little duck tail curls at his nape. "Don't worry. I did them already. What did you do to your hands- Mmhff-"

You're cut off as he squeezes you in a hug, a relieved exhale leaving his frame, taking some of the tension with it. "Thank you, Y/nnie. What would I do without you?"

The sentence reverberates through your head; would things be worse without you there?

This means I need to do more, you think. I can help out as much as possible.

You mull this over and wave a momentary goodbye to Hyunjin, walking backstage with Chan. Felix, Changbin, and Jisung are busy being fitted for outfits and they immediately pummel you for attention, calling out as soon as you enter the room.

"NOONA LOOK AT MY SPARKLY TOP-"

"NOONA DO YOU LIKE THE COLOUR OF THESE GLOVES-"

"NOONA DO I LOOK COOL-"

You wave your hands. "Very cool and sparkly, I do like the colour, you all look great!"

It seems to satisfy them for the time being, and you watch them dissipate to their respective stylists. Passing through the room, you sit down in a chair in the corner and keep an eye on all of the boys. Chan is stressed enough right now; the least you can do is keep an eye on the members while he finalises things for the concert.

Your stomach rumbles and you think about quickly leaving to get food from one of the cafes across the street from the stadium, but you can't risk leaving the members unsupervised. Guaranteed, one of them will come looking, and then everything will fall to pieces. Crossing your arms over your stomach, you sigh and unscrew a bottle of water instead. That should keep you full for a while.

At least you hope it does.

.

You laugh and hug a sweaty Jisung, cheering. The concert went off without a hitch, and you're all backstage, congratulating each other on the performances and enjoying the moment of togetherness. Except you can't enjoy it as much, because your head is beginning to hurt, and it's starting to get difficult to see. You probably should have eaten something earlier, but you can last until you all get back to the hotel.

You all file out of the venue and pile into cars. Your foot almost missed the car threshold and you bump your shin, hissing as you collapse into the seat next to Chan.

"You okay?" He asks. He has his headphones in, his makeup smudging a little at the corners of his eyes.

You nod, sighing. "Long day. Good work on the performance."

He smiles and you reach up to gently clean up the messy makeup with a thumb, his gaze fixed on you. Jeongin and Seungmin are looking over the back of the seats in disgust.

"Noona," Hyunjin groans from behind. "Stop hitting on leader-hyung."

You roll your eyes and look out the window as Chan turns to tell him off. Your thoughts wander and you rub a hand against your shin, trying to soothe the ache. Your fingers come away lightly stained in red.

Panicking, and then glancing at Chan to check he hasn't seen, you inspect your leg. There's a few spots of red where the blood has soaked through the fabric of your pants, and you cross your legs quickly so as to hide the stain.

You think for a moment; you could ask someone if they have a bandaid, maybe... after all, there are always first aid kits in the cars, but you can't be weak and ask for help. Your job is to be there when other people ask for help, not the other way round.

Sighing, you try your best to hide your pain as you filter out of the car after the others. Your stomach rumbles, more insistently this time, and you quickly uncap your water bottle, trying to quell the dull, growing ache in your stomach. Your head hurts too, but you don't have time to think about it as you enter the hotel room, mind already whirring with things that need to be done.

You go to your room and quickly slap a bandaid on the cut on your shin, washing your hands of the blood and then changing into comfier clothes. Rolling your sleeves up, you enter the kitchen and begin cutting up ingredients, throwing spices into a pan and seasoning meat. The guys have had a long, tiring day, not to mention a whole concert, so they deserve a good, home-cooked meal away from home.

.

"Noona, this is so good," Felix groans, heaping in another mouthful of cheesy tteokbokki. There's silence around the table; everyone is so invested in stuffing their faces. Hyunjin has even tied his hair back so he can eat without dipping his hair in the soup, and Changbin has stolen two of your hairclips to keep his bangs back for the same reason.

You sit next to Chan as per usual, holding a cup of a hot herbal drink; you didn't feel like eating is what you told the boys when they insisted you take your share of the massive spread you cooked for them.

In reality, you're starving, but it doesn't seem fair for you to be eating when they've been working so much harder. They deserve it more. After all, you're just the second-in-command, Chan's right hand person and a manager for the boys. You don't work nearly twice as hard as they do on a good day.

You set the mug down on the table, standing up. The pain in your head aches and throbs sharply with the movement and you fight not to fall over. "I'm going to bed."

Some of the guys nod with mouths full of meat and rice, and you retire to your room, shutting the door. You collapse on the bed and close your eyes, trying to will the headache away.

That doesn't work, unfortunately.

The door opens then, and it's Minho who comes in, peeking around the corner. "Noona?"

"Mmm."

"Do you have a headache like I did?"

You nod and sit up, rubbing your eyes, and give him a tired smile. "Nothing I can't handle. Did you need something?"

He shakes his head, and then shyly comes into the room, holding a bowl of soup. "I saw you weren't eating earlier... Chan-hyung wondered if we should bring you something to eat..."

You let him place the soup on the bedside. "Thank you, Minho. I might just sleep, but I'll eat after-"

"No," he says firmly, with the absolute ferocity of a tiny, fluffy kitten.

"What?"

Jisung pokes his head in at the doorway. "You have to eat now."

You swing your legs off the bed. "Why?"

"Because," Chan says, appearing behind the two, Jeongin holding his leader's sleeve, "You need to take care of yourself and not just us."

"But I am."

The four boys suddenly tumblr into the room as Changbin and Hyunjin stick their noses into the conversation too.

"Noona, you hurt your leg earlier and you didn't tell us," Hyunjin whines. "And you told me to take a break from dancing but you didn't take a break the whole day-"

"Yeah, and then you went to your room and pretended to sleep so you wouldn't have to eat," Changbin pouts.

Chan gestures to the still-cooling soup on the bedside that Minho had brought for you earlier. "Please, Y/n."

You sigh. "Okay, okay. It just felt wrong to be eating as well, since I don't work even half as hard as you guys do-"

You're interrupted by a crowd of indignant protests and it's so loud that you immediately raise the soup bowl to your mouth. All of the boys watch as you take a mouthful of the rich, meaty broth. It fills your stomach on the first go. Your headache slowly begins to fade.

The boys filter into the room and hang around you while you eat, bickering and play-fighting. None of them make you feel self-conscious or inferior, just bringing with them a sort of peace.

You eventually fall asleep curled between two of the boys, surrounded by serenity, warmth, and the still-lingering scent of soup hanging faintly in the air.

a/n: i was gonna name this one 'soup' but i already have a jisung fic about soup soooo

the fast lane : part 4 (bangchan x reader x felix)

Summary: Welcome to the world of underground street racing. Chan is known for his flashy cars and confident attitude. You're new to the racing scene, eager but inexperienced. Felix is known for his sneaky tactics and charming demeanour. What happens when all three of your worlds collide?

Warnings: skz racer!au, fluff, chan cries, reader cries, everyone cries, mention of injuries, brief description of injury, trauma-ma-ma-ma wc 3.9 k

series masterlist

part 4 : unexpected contact

"Minho, wake up!"

Y/n sank to her knees beside him. Minho's outline was blurred through the haze of Y/n's tears. She placed a hand on his shoulder; it was cold, almost lifeless.

She should call someone- who was she even meant to call? The arena was empty and the sky was beginning to dim in deep gloaming tones. Looking down at Minho again, she shook him uselessly, squeezing his shoulder and pressing her palm pleadingly to his clammy, tearstained face.

"Please, Minho..."

His eyes fluttered but he showed no sign of movement beyond that. His face was so soft and delicate in sleep, eyelashes like a dusting of cocoa against his lids. The chiseled angles of his nose and jaw, the little white scars on the line of his throat and his temples. The perfect porcelain mask was cracked and Y/n tried desperately to piece it together, crying and coaxing and trying with shaking hands to do something, anything.

Nothing was working.

Y/n cupped his face, pressing her forehead to his. Hot, salty tears streamed down her face, dripping onto his cheekbones like tiny rivers of molten gold. She knew in her heart that he'd passed out from the distress. She stroked his hair, deep purplish-brown in the dimming light, and whispered to him sweet nothings she wouldn't remember and he wouldn't hear.

"Min..." she hiccupped, barely able to see through the onslaught of hot tears. "Please wake up."

She had felt two pairs of hands grasping her, ripping her away from Minho like a bandage being ripped off a half-healed wound. Blood pooled in Y/n's footsteps as she was hauled to the backstage area, pushed down onto the couch. She remembered her hands, sweaty with the emotional exertion, slipping against each other as she'd wrung them together, pacing behind the closed door.

She remembered wo people shouting frantically and a muffled groan, boyish and pretty. The slam of a door, weak protests, and then the revving of a car. When she'd finally been let out of the room, he wasn't there.

She remembered being told to go home.

She remembered returning to the arena the next day, and how he hadn't been there.

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that one either.

She remembered showing up six days later, having been told she had been signed up for a race the following Saturday. She'd just smiled weakly as she'd been informed, knowing that Minho had been the one to register her. That information only made her heart ache more as time passed.

She remembered asking around, only to be told that he'd been taken to get medical attention, and that no one knew where he was. She'd cried after that, curling up into a ball against the backstage door, where she'd fallen backwards and met Minho for the first time.

A pair of strong arms had coiled around her, comforting her, though later she couldn't seem to remember who it was. The image danced just out of reach, her memory fogged over by her aching longing and worry.

What if he never returned?

What if he'd collapsed because of what Chan had said?

Or worse, what if he'd-

What if-

Y/n flew bolt upright, gasping and shaking and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She spasmed for a moment, flailing, before realising where she was.

The tuning shop's lights were off, the sun filling the space through the half-opened garage door. It was wide and spacious, several other cars lined up beside the one Y/n was working on. Minho's car, she reminded herself. It was his. And he'd been grudgingly trusting enough to allow her to keep it.

"I have another I can use," he'd said, refusing to make eye contact as Y/n had thrown her arms around him, squealing.

Her very own car.

Y/n smiled sadly, willing her eyes not to well up as she ran her fingertips along the chrome-green and black satin cast. Exactly like his motorbike, she remembered. He always did like matching items.

The sun cast a golden glow over the cement, reflecting and lighting up the area. The cheerful chattering of birds and the amiable talking of the occasional racers who passed by should have lifted Y/n's spirits.

Strangely enough, it hadn't.

She'd fallen asleep after about an hour of engine adjustments, too exhausted by her racing thoughts and neverending worries to do anything more than idly sit and adjust a miscellaneous bolt. Her fingers and the front of her shirt was stained with engine grease, though she wasn't entirely sure how it'd gotten there.

Y/n sighed and propped herself up against the car, elbows on her knees as she stared quietly out of the garage. She could see the wheels of cars and a little bit of the arena entrance from her. She had no will to be where she was right now, but she was kept in place by a bone-deep, aching tiredness that took a firm grip on every part of her body. She was more than content to sit here for the rest of the day and wallow endlessly in her weeping, abyssal sorrow.

"You gonna sit there all day?" A quiet, somber, accented voice shook her out of the haze of her thoughts. Almost. She was too caught up in her fugue state to even bother turning or acknowledging whoever was at the entrance.

Without looking to see who it was, Y/n let out a tiny, almost inaudible, half-hearted "mm" before relapsing into silence once again.

There was a sigh, then the quiet thudding of boots as whoever it was moved to sit down next to her. The intoxicating scent of a familiar, spicy, woodsy cologne filled her nostrils and she turned hesitantly, the small action unexpectedly taking most of her strength.

Chan gazed back at her, expression hard and solemn.

Y/n blinked, his presence finally registering in the fog of her mind. She opened her mouth, then closed it unsurely, shoulders tensing.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, eyes filling with a fresh wave of tears, though from what emotions or thoughts, she wasn't sure. "I haven't seen you since-"

"I know," he murmured.

There were dark rings around his eyes, and the space under his right eye was slightly red and purple, like he'd bruised the soft skin there. He looked pale and he hadn't bothered to style his hair, the strands falling in soft, thin waves past his forehead. Y/n wondered if he'd been having trouble sleeping, or if he'd slept at all.

Y/n turned her face away to hide the fresh tears streaming down her cheeks like little paths of fire. Her voice was quiet, hesitant, shaky.

"Are you going to shout at me too in whatever language you were spitting at Minho in?" Her voice was bitter, quiet, almost resentful.

Chan didn't reply.

Y/n knew in her heart that she had no right to be truly resentful towards him. After all, she had no clue what had transpired between him and Minho, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Chan had done something terribly, terribly wrong. And, Y/n reasoned with herself, even if he had, there was no reason for him to have snapped at Minho the way he did. Y/n fought the urge to seethe in the racer's face, though he showed no signs of aggression. He simply sat quiet and docile, seemingly reflecting as he watched the dappled sunlight from the garage cast patterns across the cement floor.

"Y/n," he whispered.

It was so faint she almost didn't catch it. Turning her face back towards him, she felt a small wave of surprise overcoming her features at the soft expression of her name. He was clearly struggling to maintain his cold, almost expressionless mask, the facade doing nothing to hide the thinly-veiled distress in his dark eyes. He looked so genuinely upset that Y/n couldn't help but turn her body towards him, tilting her head.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. It felt like ages had passed before Chan spoke, quiet and shaky like the way Y/n herself had spoken only moments before.

"Just- I can't tell you what happened, okay?"

Y/n blinked before an unexpectedly fierce scowl overcame her features, twisting it into a resentful, bitter mask. She recoiled minutely like she was disgusted. She felt disgusted, and she wasn't even sure why.

"Why not? You know, after all, I don't deserve to know why my friend collapsed, or why you yelled at him in the first place, or why you're such a jerk, but you know what, it's fine. It's fine, Chan."

Her voice came out sharp and spiteful, reminiscent of the sound of crashing, shattering glass. A glistening shard flew from her mouth and embedded itself in Chan's chest in a clean, swift swipe. He looked taken aback at the sudden harshness of her tone, looking almost guilty, and the remorseful, stupefied expression on his face was like a dagger to Y/n's heart, a clean, white slice too fresh and painful to fully comprehend.

Y/n knew she was projecting, knew she should hold back since Chan was so clearly distressed, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't help stepping back hastily when Chan rose to his feet and moved soundlessly towards her, his hands out in front of him like she was a wild, untamed animal he was trying not to spook.

Y/n couldn't help it when she batted his hands away with surprising sharpness, glaring up at him like she was attempting to burn laser holes through his skull. She couldn't help it when Chan swiftly stepped closer, expression desperate like the air of a man who knew he was losing his audience.

Or his sanity.

Or perhaps both. One could never really know nowadays.

What Y/n did know was that she wanted nothing to do with Chan, or what he had done. Not until he had simply just proved to her that he hadn't intended to hurt Minho the way he had. He was Y/n's first real friend, the first person to want to know her, truly as she was. Minho, who wanted Y/n with all her complications, worries, desires.

Minho, who listened to her stories, doing his best to keep up with her even when she got excited and spoke so fast she became dizzy.

Minho, who chided her as he ruffled her hair, his gaze lovingly scolding.

Minho, who had once driven her, a complete stranger home, simply because he was worried for her safety.

Minho who dragged her to the cafe after every practice, who drove her home, every time smelling of cinnamon and vanilla.

Minho, the sadist, the feline-eyed racer, the embodiment of untarnished strength and quiet confidence.

Minho, the pretty mask of ivory porcelain and dripping gold.

Minho, and her. Her.

Just her.

Y/n burst into tears.

Chan's arms were suddenly on her shoulders, her biceps, skating across the fabric of her jacket, wrapping around her waist until she sunk to the floor in his arms, a shattered, broken mess of glass and tears. Her knee scraped the cement through her ripped jeans but she didn't feel it, clinging to Chan even though all she wanted to do was push him away. A loud sob escaped her mouth and she buried her face in his jacket as his arms coiled around her even tighter, almost protectively. His hand brushed her knee, readjusting it gently so it didn't press against the ground, his retracting fingertips stained lightly with her blood.

Y/n closed her eyes tight, so tight, like if she did it hard enough Minho would suddenly reappear and take Chan's place. She was a swirling, confused mess of overwhelming agony and longing sadness. Y/n did not know how it felt to drown in a dark, lonely ocean, but she supposed this is must what it would have felt like. Sinking like a stone in a sea of doubt, gasping for oxygen but instead dousing her insides in the fresh, painful frigidness of her situation.

She was barely aware when Chan adjusted himself to lean against the car again, Y/n in his lap. She clung to him, the weeks of maintaining the nonchalant facade disappearing in the unexpected comfort of his embrace. Turning her head to the side, overwhelmed by sudden dizziness from her emotional onslaught, she dimly noticed that the sleeve of her jacket was wet, soft, dark patches making patterns on the fabric like the first few raindrops at the beginning of a storm. It took her several moments to comprehend the fact that Chan was also crying.

His face was buried into the crook of her neck, nuzzling into the juncture, soaking it with his tears. Strangely, Y/n didn't mind, too preoccupied with the combined vulnerability of the situation. She stopped sniffing, blinking to remove the blurry tears from her vision. A quiet, repeated whimper came from her shoulder, Chan's voice muffled by the fabric and the force at which he was burying his face into her neck.

"Please, don't go... Stay with me, I'm sorry, I should never have done this, please-"

Y/n stilled, trying to understand through the aftermath of her tears. She wasn't sure if he was talking to her, or reliving a memory of someone, or something else. Maybe he was talking to Minho, or another close friend. It was impossible for Y/n to tell.

He was pleading.

"Chan?" Y/n whispered, voice raw and cracked. A sudden realisation dawned on her. She knew it was completely outside the bounds of propriety to interrupt his whimpering pleas but she couldn't let the thought remain unsaid. Gathering her courage, she touched his shoulder. He lifted his head slightly, indicating that he was listening. Or maybe he just needed air, having shoved his face into her shoulder for so long. But Y/n took the opportunity as it came, though a little shakily.

"It was you, wasn't it?" She whispered almost inaudibly. "The night I cried backstage, a few days after Minho collapsed.. you were the one who held me."

Chan nodded infinitesimally, almost guiltily, like he'd been caught. A choked sob ripped out of his lungs, his eyes glazed, and Y/n opened her mouth, unsure. He was clearly in pain, and Y/n had a strong feeling it wasn't the physical type. Chan murmured something shakily in Korean before pressing his head to her shoulder again, shoulders heaving with the force of his tears.

They sat like that for a while, Y/n eventually feeling bold enough to reach up and stroke his hair lightly. It was like pinfeathers beneath her fingers, softer than she could have ever imagined. Chan's cries quieted after a while, and so did Y/n's halfhearted sniffing, leaving the both of them clinging to each other, the way a person drowning in the sea might cling to a piece of debris.

It should have felt strange, considering that Y/n didn't even know Chan well, but she felt too boneless and spent to currently care about physical boundaries. And so did he, clearly feeling careless enough to run his fingers lightly up and down her spine, not daring to go past her middle back. The sense of affinity hanging in the atmosphere descended like a cloud upon Y/n and Chan until the advancing, rhythmic sound of footsteps sounded from the corridor outside. The door handle turned and Y/n hastily scrambled off Chan's lap, unceremoniously falling on her ass beside him. Chan smoothed a large, veiny hand through his hair just as the door opened.

To Y/n's enormous surprise, a cat came strolling through the doorway, looking around inquisitively before moving to lie down in the sunlight. Chan spluttered before pointing to the doorway, confused.

"Whose footsteps were those, then?" he stuttered, looking at Y/n as if she might have known the answer.

She simply fought a smile and shrugged back before standing up, and slowly moving closer to the cat. The dark, jet black fur shone honey brown and was flecked with gold under the wash of sunlight. Y/n stroked its back gently, feeling the cat's satisfied purr rumble up from its throat. It mewed at Chan as he settled on the other side, his long legs folded up to his chest. He leaned forward, petting the cat, and his knee brushed Y/n's. The touch sent a jolt through her and Y/n felt heat rise in her cheeks, petting the cat a little faster to hide the crimson splotches on her face. If Chan noticed, he didn't say anything, having apparently come to a conclusion that the footsteps outside the door must have been someone else.

Y/n pressed her lips together to stop herself from bursting out in questions. The moment was quiet and almost intimate, and Y/n felt like she'd be ruining it if she bombarded the dark-haired racer with questions. Looking down at the cat as it tilted green eyes at her, she smiled and scratched it lightly behind the ear. It looked a little bit like Minho; inquisitive, quietly confident eyes and fur the same shade as his hair when it hit the light. Y/n felt a pang in her chest and turned to Chan. Now or never, she supposed.

"Chan?" she whispered, not for the first time.

He responded with a "hm", seemingly distracted by the cat.

"Do- do you know where Minho is? Is he okay?"

Chan turned to her. Y/n's breath caught; his eyes had lightened to a dark brown, the sun casting an almost glowing sheen over his tanned skin. His eyes were rimmed in red and tear tracks stained his cheekbones like the hollowing path water makes through the ground, and the water caught the light, sparkling when he blinked at her. The slight bruise under his eye was rosy and pale purple. His hair, however un-styled and messy it was, swept down over his forehead in a way that strangely made Y/n's heart thud far faster than it should have.

Chan opened his mouth to speak. "He's-"

"Minho's fine. At home, resting." A voice sounded from the doorway. A slim, agile-looking racer was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He had an air of good nature, with his hair dyed a dirty blonde, and the dark roots growing out under the strands. His eyes were wide and dark, yet they were sparkly with a mischievous light that glinted as he tilted his head at Chan. There was silence between the three, until the man clicked his fingers, the cat rising from its position like a sleeper agent and padding to the racer's feet. It wound itself between his legs, pawing at the thick silver zips on his boots. The man reached down and gently picked the cat up, stroking it and whispering. Y/n watched the man, fascinated, though Chan looked politely unfazed.

"Was it you making those heavy footsteps before?" Y/n asked timidly.

The racer simply nodded, not taking his eyes off the cat. Y/n's gaze traveled down to where the cat's dark, fluffy tail flicked at the waist level of the man. The racer's physique was slim and lean, his shoulders broad, chest tapering down to a slender, pretty waist that Y/n was almost jealous of. He was wearing a plain black short-sleeve mesh shirt, tucked into combat pants similar to Y/n's own. He was fairly short, just like Chan and Minho, yet tall enough that Y/n figured if she stood, he would be able to look down into her face.

The racer tilted his head, noticing Chan's gaze and Y/n's stare. He gave Y/n a million-watt bright, cheeky grin, eyes slitting with the exuberant movement, before his gaze slid back to the cat. She liked him instantly.

"I didn't think she would wander here," he said quietly, still smiling, referring to the cat. He tapped its nose softly but cheekily before moving to sit right next to Y/n. His knees took up most of her personal space, but she found that she didn't mind, feeling more curious than anything. He looked up at Y/n, poking her cheek lightly.

"Why you crying?" he said curiously. "Yah, Chan, what'd you say- oh, you're crying too, alright... are we just having a quick breakdown sesh in here? Cool, cool, cool."

Y/n heard Chan sigh. Turning her head just enough to see him out of her peripheral, Y/n watched as he leant back on his hands, stretching out his legs in front of him. He looked relieved, and Y/n wondered if he was glad that the cat-wielding racer on her other side had provided a welcome distraction from the previous conversation. Fighting a sigh herself, Y/n turned to the cheeky-looking man before reaching out to lightly ruffle the cat's fur.

"Are you friends with Minho?" she said softly, glancing up at the man. He nodded with a small "mm" before gently tugging on Y/n's hand, directing it to the spot behind the cat's ears. Surprised at the sudden contact. Y/n watched as the cat purred loudly at the feeling of her fingertips brushing its ears. The man chuckled before letting go.

"Minho and I have been close friends for a long time," he said quietly before glancing at Chan. "How are things, you know, after-"

"Things are fine," Chan's voice was tight, strained. Y/n tensed involuntarily.

The man sighed, voice softening, before he turned to Y/n. "If you want to know about Minho, he's fine. He's at home, recuperating. I went to see him yesterday just to drop a few things off for him, and I'm going again tonight, if you want me to say anything to him from you."

Y/n shook her head lightly at his offer, polite and appreciative. "Thank you, but I would much rather he rest, and come back healed. Do you know when he's coming back, by the way?"

"Probably within the next few days," Chan interrupted blandly. "He's never away for long. Too worried about you."

Y/n spluttered. "Me? What do you mean-"

The racer interrupted, laughing nervously before shooting Chan a glare, unbeknownst to Y/n. His voice tightened.

"Don't worry. Minho will be back soon. And he'll be happy to find out there's a stray hanging around the arena too. He loves cats," he scratched the cat's dark fur with a smile. "Oh, and I'm Jisung."

Y/n nodded. "I'm Y/n."

Jisung shot her another smile, bright enough to outshine the sunlight filtering into the garage. It dimmed slightly as Chan got up with a huff, brushing off his clothes. His eyes were suspiciously glassy and Y/n made to take his hand, voice coming out shaky but concerned.

"Chan, wait, where are you going-"

She moved to stand up too, hand still outstretched. She only got about halfway, crouching, before Chan took her hand as if on impulse, squeezing it quickly but gently before hastily leaving the room. The garage door swung shut behind him.

Y/n froze in position, hand tingling from the unexpected but welcome contact. A sudden rush of heat flooded to her cheeks and she gulped, that familiar pit of strange, fluttering tenderness settling in the pit of her stomach.

Jisung pointedly looked away.

a/n: this took way too long oops

hiiii! i know you’re probably rlly busy with requests but i had an ideaaa

9th member reader who is in a secret relationship with jeongin and the other members are slowly like catching them doing couple-y things or something along the lines of that??

sorry if i didn’t word it right 😭

hihi~ i liked this idea but i wasn't sure how to set it all out... i wanted it to be short and sweet, don't know if i succeeded >< glad i got an innie request, he needed more fics . i just did the members catching on after a short while to make it simpler . here you goooo~~

that's true - (secret bf!yang jeongin x reader)

pairing: secret bf!yang jeongin x reader

summary: when the rest of skz finds out you and jeongin are dating, how will they react?

genre: fluffy to the max, idol! au, skz little shit strong agenda, slightly suggestive, this has no plotline whatsoever i'm sorry

a/n: div by @mikeykuns

skz masterlist

Jeongin groans as he stretches himself out on the bed, almost vibrating with the force of his extension. He bangs his fist on the headboard and you laugh as he whines, burrowing into the sheets.

"Don't laugh," he mutters, though a fond smile graces his fox-like features. "It's been so long since I had a night off."

You nod sympathetically and flop down on the sheets next to him. "Feels strange to not be rushing you off anywhere. You know, since you're always late-"

"No, I'm not!" He interrupts indignantly, sending you into a fit of giggles. "I just forget how quickly time passes sometimes. And at least I have you to tell me when I have stuff to do."

Jeongin's room is dark, the only source of light coming from the pinkish-gold glow of the triangular LEDs above his bed. They're exactly the same as the ones in Chan's bedroom, and not for the first time do you fight the urge to coddle Jeongin for his love of matching items.

You're both sprawled out silently on his bed, the spread ruffled and messy, and Jeongin's eyes are fixed on the closed and locked door. You know it's because he's afraid Chan will try to come in; none of the boys know you're dating each other yet, and you try and shake off the feeling that you're doing something wrong.

After all, you were their ninth member; some would call it a workplace romance, others a scandal. The youngest member of a kpop boy group and a newly added ninth member falling for each other was definitely something that the press would have loved to sink their teeth into. But you've managed to keep it a secret from seven of the nosiest people on earth, so you render the relationship secret and safe for the time being.

And, no matter how anyone else saw it, you thought it fate. Ending up with Jeongin was the best outcome in your view, with you always feeling so loved and warm around him, a bit like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter's day. You never went unappreciated, and in turn, he'd dedicated himself with even more fervor to his responsibilities, flushed with energy that came directly from your love. You couldn't have been any prouder.

Keeping it a secret, though, had come with its challenges; you often felt like a spy, having to run rings around the boys and duck out of sight whenever one of them appeared. You felt bad for a little while before realising that it was probably for the best; they would have a field day teasing their maknae if they found out you were dating.

You brush those thoughts aside momentarily as you look across to where your lover is silently staring up at the ceiling, no doubt relishing the quiet comfort of a night in, with no duties or events to rush off to.

"Innie," you say softly.

He responds with a quiet hum, eyes closed.

He must be exhausted, you think. The group had such a busy day; Chan had stayed late at the studio to finish yet another song track, so you'd taken the opportunity to be with Jeongin while you could.

You lean up on one elbow and survey his face; bare, the tiny marks and scars on his skin making him look more beautiful than any cosmetic ever could. You lightly touch the little scar on his jawbone, feeling the slightly raised scar tissue, the dry smoothness of the skin around it, so delicate where the hair starts to grow in tiny, soft waves.

His hair is messy, splayed out against the sheets, a bit like when he wakes up and looks a bit like a lion, his hair sticking out in all directions. You hope against hope that none of the boys will try to burst in and interrupt this precious, silent moment between you.

He's almost fast asleep already, so you lean down and press a chaste kiss to his slightly chapped lips, stroking the soft hair out of his face. Laying down next to him, you peek up to check the door is locked before falling into a heavy, inviting sleep.

.

The second you wake up, you throw off Jeongin's arm, which is laying heavily across your middle. Checking the time, you smooth back your hair and shake the fox-like boy awake.

"Innie," you hiss. "Chan will be back by now. Wake up."

"Oof," he responds.

You sigh and quickly straighten out your appearance in the mirror, slipping on your jacket and then tiptoeing to the door to check for noises. This isn't the first time you've had to sneak out of his room. Hearing nothing, you sigh and soak in the welcoming sunlight streaming from the window, before moving to shake Jeongin awake once more.

"Innie, come on."

"I'm up, I'm up," he groans. "Chan-hyung will probably still be at the studio... he always works til the morning..."

"I gotta go, then," you say, checking your watch. Ten minutes til you have to head down to the studio for a Tiktok video filming. "See you later."

You can barely hear his sad, murmured goodbye as you head out the door.

.

"Sleep well, Y/n?" Felix asks as he runs through the dance steps again.

You nod, side-eyeing him in suspicion. Does he know about you and Jeongin? "Yeah, thanks. I fell asleep in Jeongin's room."

"Not the first time you've done that," Hyunjin laughs. It's no secret that you would often head to the Jeongchan dorm for some better shut-eye; somehow, being in Jeongin's room always helped. And it was the perfect excuse to be with him too, away from prying eyes and unwanted interruptions.

You've all been at the studio for around two hours now; the boys are beginning to get tired of rehearsing the comeback routines, but after an insistent Seungmin begging for a break, Chan finally gives in and allows the boys and you a moment of respite.

You sigh and flop down against the wall, eyes tracking Jeongin across the room. He's taking swigs of water and fanning himself; no doubt sweaty from the dance exertion.

"Y/n," Chan says from above you.

"Hey," you say, not bothering to look at him. "Need something?"

"Actually, yes," he moves to sit down next to you, stretching out his legs in front of him. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

You turn to look at him them, expression betraying nothing. "No," you say cautiously. "Why?"

He holds up your phone between two fingers, an eyebrow raised in a pointed expression. Hyunjin and Jisung snicker from behind one of the couches lining the back wall.

"Where'd you find that?" You glower at him, knowing you've been caught.

He chuckles. "Wasn't a secret, Y/n. You slept in Jeongin's room last night, didn't you?"

You shrug, holding onto a shred of hope that he somehow still doesn't know. "So? I fall asleep there all the time."

"Seems a little strange considering the fact you have a perfectly good dorm of your own," he replies without missing a beat. "Minho and Jisung hardly see you anymore. Your shelves in your room are dusty as hell at this point. Why Jeongin's room?"

You shrug, looking at your faraway reflection in the mirrors. "He's my friend, and it's easier to sleep when he's near me."

"Right," Chan drawls, tossing your phone onto your lap. "Because it's perfectly normal for you and Jeongin, friends, to be sleeping in the same room, on the same bed."

"So? You and Felix do the same thing."

Chan makes an exasperated noise. "Just admit you're dating each other. I already got Jeongin to spill."

You choke on your tongue then, spluttering in disbelief. Hyunjin dissolves into cackles. "What?"

"Yep," he replies, remorseless. "Made him admit it without trying. It wasn't hard when he's always looking at you so lovestruck."

You scoff and look away. "It's none of your business anyhow."

Chan puts a hand on your shoulder as Jisung makes a dirty comment in the background. "It's okay if you're dating him, Y/n. Just- there are some things that shouldn't get too public, you know? For safety reasons."

You sit up, indignant. "But we're keeping it quiet, I swear. None of you even knew til a week ago."

He nods just as you shoot an accusatory glare at Jeongin across the room, silently betrayed. "That's true, Y/n, but just be careful. Congratulations, anyway."

You sigh just as Jeongin sheepishly comes over, bowing half-heartedly to you as he settles against your legs. "Sorry, Y/nnie."

"It's okay," you whisper. "They were gonna find out anyway."

"Chan-hyung is a detective," he says honestly. You laugh and stroke his slightly damp hair.

"Oh, and just a note," Chan coughs awkwardly. "Jisung overheard me telling Felix about it and now the whole group knows..."

"Took you two lovebirds long enough," Minho calls snidely from the other side of the room, Seungmin snickering beside him.

Hyunjin interrupts. "How long have you two been dating in secret anyway?"

You look up at the ceiling, thinking. "Maybe two months?"

"Two months!" He screeches, flailing and almost hitting Changbin in the face.

"Get them married already," Jisung rolls his eyes, giggling.

You groan and bury your face in your hands, fighting a smile.

"We kinda asked for the teasing, to be honest," Jeongin whispers.

"Yeah," you say, resigned and affectionate. "That's true."

a/n: my sweet sweet innie