The Fast Lane : Part 4 (bangchan X Reader X Felix)

the fast lane : masterlist

Pairing: 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: illegal street racing, skz racer!au, chan and felix (yep that's a warning), more warnings will be added as the series progresses ! also, warnings are issued at the start of each chapter, so make sure to check <3

part one : the bet

part two : the lollipop

part three : porcelain and gold

part four : unexpected contact

part five : white knight and black knight

YOUR BACK OMGG YIPPIEEEEE

maybe i never left . . .

omgomg can you please write a 9th member fic (chan x f!reader) where they attend the milan show together (the one chan is at rn) 🥹🫶

hihi sorry this took a while to answer >< it's here now tho . i liked this idea so much, i haven't written much fashion event stuff ! maybe i added a little surprise near the end, but you'll just have to see hehe . here you gooo~

fendi - bangchan x female!9th member reader

pairing: bangchan x female 9th member reader

summary: chan asks you to accompany him to the fendi event in milan.

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, super duper fluffy and cute, sleepy channie, mentions of eating and drinking, swarming from fans, lots of mentions of camera flashes, chan almost falling over (yes that is a warning)

a/n: yuhh i'm so back guys ! div by @elleisdesigning

skz masterlist

Chan who surprises you with the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers as he hands you the invitation to the Fendi show in Milan. Who flushes as you look up in shock and shyly explains that he wants you to be his plus-one to the event. He lets out an 'oof' as you fly into his arms, almost knocking him over and nodding over and over again to accompany him to Milan. He grins again in relief as you explain that you don't have anything half as fancy to wear and pokes your cheek, telling you that your outfit isn't something you should be worried about, and that he would handle all of it. You're unconvinced but decide to trust him anyway, and coincidentally, later in the day, he asks what your favourite colour is.

Chan who holds your hand all the way to the airport and refuses to let go, even when you're all swarmed by the photographers and fans. His leader-mode kicks in and he protects you from the swarms as you navigate through the airport. His grip is strong, warm, and steady, and he leads you skillfully through the throngs of people pressing in on both of you until you reach the terminal gate. Makes you go first and presses a warm hand to your back as he guides you down the ramp. Refuses to sit down until you've found your seat and then offers to swap places with you so you can have the window seat. He spends about half an hour gazing out at the ground falling away beneath you and then immediately falls asleep, his mouth open and hair endearingly ruffled as the plane vibrates all around you, rising higher and higher in the air.

Chan who wakes up sleepily when the plane lands and accidentally stands up too soon, almost ending up sprawled in the aisle as the plane bumps against the tarmac. He guides you through the mess of cameras and flashes and falls asleep again in the car on the way to the hotel you'll both be staying in. You wake him up and watch him drain a bottle of water as you step out of the car, heading into the lift and up to your shared hotel room. You watch him bustle around the room, making phone calls and arranging food to be delivered, and then nuzzle into his shoulder as he sits down on the bed next to you, coiling an arm around your shoulders as you both watch the city bustling with life from outside the window.

Chan who offers you his hand as he steps out of the car, letting you take his arm as you both make your way inside the stylist's room that's been temporarily set up for the event, and fights a grin as you look around in curiosity and ask what you're doing here. He leads you to a curtain and pulls it back, nodding thankfully at the designer, and jumps when he hears you gasp and then squeal in delight. Your hands trace the beautiful, flowing fabric of the gown and you throw your arms around the leader, not caring who sees. His face is tinged pink as you run over to the mannequin once more and fawn over the dress he's had custom-made for you for the event. It's sparkly and subtle and just the right colour, and you hold back another squeal as you realise, this is why Chan asked your favourite colour a few days earlier. Not that he didn't already know what it was...

Chan who presses a hand gently onto your knee as the car pulls up to the carpet leading into the Fendi event. His gaze is reassuring and a little of the subtle sparkle on your cheeks come away on the curve of his fingers as he brushes a strand of hair off your face, promising that you'll do great. Not that the sparkle on his hands makes a difference; he looks stunning as always, and whispers the same thing back to you as he offers you his arm. You close your eyes briefly against the camera flash and step out of the car, letting him lead you inside. He stays with you and gracefully walks you around, greeting people, introducing you, and mingling with the crowd. As expected, he is a hit; unexpectedly, so are you. You're entirely comfortable in just an hour, and you even receive some lovely compliments on your appearance at the event.

Chan who secretly strokes your hand with a gentle thumb as both of you stand and pose for the cameras; he keeps your intertwined fingers behind the both of you, his smile warm and genuine as photos are snapped endlessly. The subtle, secret yet possessive gesture makes your heart flutter and you fight a laugh as he whispers jokes and comments to you in an attempt to make you smile harder than you are. He succeeds, and the result is a beautiful photo of the both of you on the cover of several fashion articles and websites, who all sing your shared praises, gushing over your outfits and potential chemistry (the members, who have been keeping updated on the event, cheekily start planning your eventual wedding).

Chan who's glad he brought you along; he's never seen his ninth member and secret crush looking so stunning and effortless. He thanks his stars for the rest of the night as he remembers the courage it took to ask you to accompany him to the event. He's never been prouder of you, and later, when the event ends, he takes you out on a walk, both of you licking at ice creams in the warmly-lit streets and talking about the day. His heart is fluttering as he wipes a little of ice cream off your lips and presses his mouth to yours, sweet treats forgotten as you melt immediately into his embrace, relishing the warmth and steady comfort he always manages to exude.

He couldn't be happier.

a/n: i'm thinking of starting a fic taglist, the post for it will be up soon ><

✧ 𝔬𝔱8 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ! (스트레이 키즈) . . . ✧

back to individual member masterlist . . .

[a] - angst | [f] - fluff | [c] - comfort | [cr] - crack | [ht] - heavy or triggering themes | [t] - thoughts

loading ....

how skz loves you - hyung line maknae line [f] [t]

how skz would do their nails - hyung line maknae line [f] [t]

asking skz "would you love me if i was a worm?" - hyung line maknae line [f] [t] [c]

skz and what type of magic they would wield - 100 follower special [t] [c]

safe - (ot8!skz x 9th member!reader) [f] [c] [a]

relight me - (ot8!skz x 9th member with ed!reader) [f] [c] [a]

valentines' day event special - (ot8! skz x reader) [f] [c] [a] [cr]

dissonance - (ot8!skz x 9th member with anxiety) [f] [c] [a]

rest easy - (ot8!skz x exhausted noona!reader) [f] [c] [a]

skz and celebrating their 9th member's birthday [f] [cr] [c]

skz x 9th member who can speak multiple languages - (ot8!skz x polyglot!9th member reader) [t] [cr] [f]

you get your period on stage - (ot8!skz x reader) [f] [c] [cr] [a]

don't go - (ot8!skz hyung!line x reader) [f] [a] [ht]

don't go - (ot8!skz maknae!line x reader) [f] [a] [ht]

skz x short 9th!member reader [f] [c]

protective!hyung line skz x maknae!9th member reader [f] [c] [a]

protective!maknae line skz x makenae!9th member reader [f] [c] [a]

ot8!skz x pregnant 9th member reader [f] [c] [t]

ot8!skz x plus one! 9th member reader [f] [t]

will i be okay? - (ot8!skz x injured!9th member reader) [f] [a] [ht]

ot8!skz x protective fem!reader [f] [c] [t]

soft landing - (ot8!skz x distressed reader) [f] [c] [a]

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws | skz prompt list

the fast lane : part 1 (bangchan x reader x felix)

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

Warnings: not much tbh, skz racer!au, illegal street racing, chan is a cocky little shit, wc 2.5k

series masterlist

part 1 : the deal

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

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

it felt more like a warning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noise.

Colour.

Light.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A really hot obstruction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you know who I am, sweetheart?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you doing this?"

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

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

"You're on."

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

life is all about well-balanced friendships

cold - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

summary: you had a shit day and jisung helps out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm? Oh, why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll come with you."

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

"You feel better now, huh?"

And he's right. You do feel better.

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

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

You sleep.

a/n: i wish i had a jisung

Hi!! Could I please make a request? I was thinking of maybe a ot8 skz x 9th member reader, where the reader has anxiety and ends up having a panic attack and the members comforted the reader?

hihi anon >< i liked this request. i was actually thinking of writing another 9th member fic when this ask came in, so perfect timing ! here you go <3

dissonance - skz x 9th member with anxiety

pairing: ot8!skz x reader with anxiety

summary: you have a panic attack while performing on stage with skz.

genre: angsty, idol!au, mentions of eating, graphic descriptions of a panic attack, slight implication of sh, fluffy ending, mentions of eating, skz are sweethearts

a/n: go check out my 'skz valentines' day event special' if you haven't already >< !

You love what you do. Really. Being on stage, wearing cool outfits, doing what you love, and of course, singing and dancing and performing with eight of your best friends is the total dream.

You couldn't have asked for more.

But now that you're standing backstage, surrounded by staff members, stylists, maintenance techs, and a countless amount of other people you don't even know, you're beginning to feel a little bit overwhelmed.

You look across to where Chan is discussing something with a stylist; it's like you can barely see him because of the overloading environment, and as you watch, his image slowly splits into two. Like a hallucination.

The performance is in a few minutes, and the noise around you becomes even louder as you begin to make your way to the wings of the stage. It's darker here, at least, but the hustle and bustle doesn't end, and neither does the constant ringing in your ears.

You feel a warm hand press lightly into the small of your back and you look up to see Hyunjin gazing down at you.

"You okay?" He says, adjusting his mic. "I know it's noisy here."

You can't do anything but nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak, save you burst into tears, or rudely snap at him. You've been backstage to events like this countless times, but the overwhelm and nausea that seems to come with it never ends. It always starts to happen the moment you sit down in the dressing room to have your makeup done.

The other members gather in a group behind Chan, who's waiting at the curtain before the stage, and you, who's gripping into the velvety material with white-knuckled fingers.

It all feels too much; the coloured lights, the brightness of the stage, the jumbled, discordant noises around you, and even your own members being near you makes you want to scream. Looking at Hyunjin's face again is too much to even bear, the diamantes under his eyes shining far too bright, and the badges on his jacket feeling far too odd and icky to be fashionable.

Chan, who's turned back to count his members before going on stage, glances at you; he knows how you get with these sorts of events, and you can't bear the sight of his face either. You just want him to go away, even if he's not talking to you. A pang of irritation shoots through you as he begins to talk.

"Y/n," he says quietly, though you can barely hear him through the blood rushing through your ears. "Take a deep breath, yeah?"

He moves a little closer, a hand out to stop anyone rushing by from bumping into you. There's a heart-shaped diamante on his cheek, and suddenly you want nothing more to reach up and rip it off his face. The urge to do it is almost overwhelming.

But even if you wanted to, you can't, because suddenly Chan is shouting something and you all run out onto stage, the cheer of the crowd so deafening you can't hear anything at all, your ears buzzing. You start to move purely out of muscle memory, your subconscious forcing your to dance only due to hours of late-night practices where you repetitively drilled the routine into your bones. But it feels stiff and clunky, almost unnatural to be moving the way that you are.

You barely register singing your part; it must have been incredibly subpar, you're sure of that at least, because Minho turns to look at you a little strangely before moving to jump back into position. But you're so visibly out of breath that he seems to realise what's happening, and he takes over singing your part while you keep dancing. The white lights above you are so hot, almost searing against your skin, beating down on you relentlessly. None of the other members seem to be affected, however.

You wince and scrunch the left side of your face as you almost roll your ankle, and you swear you can feel the makeup crinkling against your skin, the unpleasant caked layer of it seeping into your pores, clogging them with impurity. You desperately reach up a hand to scratch it off, provide some relief, but all the members put their hands up as per the routine, and you do the same, so your current situation isn't immediately noticeable to anyone who's watching. You doubt you're performing at even an average level, but you can't find it in you to care, you're so out of breath.

I can't keep going-

Your clothes feel scratchy and irritating against your skin, the top just a little bit too uncomfortable, your shoes just a little too tight, and the fingerless gloves on your hands are almost too much to bear, your hands going numb. Your hair is done too strangely, the styling making your scalp feel all tight and pressured, and suddenly you can't do anything but drop to your knees in the middle of the rush and gasp, your head pounding so hard it hurts-

Too much too much too much-

Before you know it, the stage suddenly goes dark and you realise that the performance has ended. Hopefully no one saw what happened-

That hope is dashed to pieces as you're immediately swarmed by staff members, all crowding in concern. You hear Jeongin yelp as he's pushed to the side and someone else, Chan, you think, is shouting, trying to create order and get to you at the same time. The crowd is murmuring, whispering, but you can't hear them, your whole being numb and grey with searing anxiety.

The members seem to understand what's happening, though, and you look up through dark, blurry vision to see Danceracha making a barrier between you and the rest of the backstage crew with their bodies, Felix looking over his shoulder in concern. They've finally managed to get through the swarm and you collapse onto your back, simply too exhausted to do anything else despite the din of noise surrounding you like a cloud of wasps.

You feel someone's hands- Seungmin's, maybe, press themselves into your shoulders, and a spicy, warm scent fills your nostrils as you suddenly leave the earth, a prominent weight settling over your being. Chan is lifting you.

The rest of the members begin to make their way through the crowd to their designated group dressing room, you clinging to Chan's shoulders so hard you think you might leave crescent-shaped scars in the skin. But he doesn't flinch, not that you notice, since you're unable to do anything but gasp and hyperventilate. You think you might scream, but nothing leaves your lungs, and by now you've lost complete control of your breathing.

Chan sets you down in his lap once the dressing room door is shut, sitting on the couch, and Minho immediately turns the light off. Dimness floods the room and Changbin kneels in front of you, carefully slipping off your shoes and gloves while Jeongin runs his fingers through your hair, flaking out the harsh gel and returning your slightly sweaty hair to its usual state.

You gasp and keel over just as Jisung takes a hold of your hands, completely calm and in control.

"It's okay, Y/nnie," you hear him say, his voice sounding faint and faraway. "You did so well for us, just try and tune into the silence, it'll help..."

You almost forget that this is what Jisung does when he feels overwhelmed with a panic attack too; he told you once that sitting somewhere quiet helps your head to clear things up a little. He must be right, because your breathing is beginning to slow down.

You look down at your hands; you can't feel them, and they look almost alien through your buzzing panic, like they don't really belong to you. Jisung's firm yet gentle grip has left little white patches on the skin in the shape of his fingertips, the blood not flowing through your hands properly due to the hyperventilating.

Foundation gathers on the underside of your nails as you reach up and desperately try to remove all the makeup, your tears not even penetrating the thick, oily layer of cosmetic product. Diamantes come raining down and gather on your thighs just as someone gently swipes a damp, cool cloth across your cheeks, the fabric coming away the colour of your skin.

By the time all of the makeup is cleaned off, and you're sitting in nothing but the complete base layer of your outfit, your breathing has slowed down completely. You look up with red, teary eyes, your heart still pounding, and meet eyes with Chan, who's still sitting with you in his lap, one hand stroking your waist.

"I can't go back out there," you choke out.

Chan nods. "That's okay, Y/nnie. You did really well performing, okay? I think we should all just stay here a little longer until you feel somewhat better, then we'll figure out what to do, hm?"

You sniff. "I m-messed up the performance, though.."

"It's okay, Y/n," Changbin says softly from where he's sitting, his legs swung over a chair.

"Yeah," Hyunjin adds. "Don't worry."

The room is completely silent, until Seungmin pointedly gets up and moves to a stylist mirror, opening the cabinet and pulling out a packet of makeup wipes. He sits down and cleans his face, matter-of-factly, then tosses the wipes into a nearby bin. Minho moves to do the same, and undoes the clasp of his necklace, tossing all his jewelry into a shiny, clunky pile on the table without a word.

Chan nods in approval. "I think we're done here for today. Let's dress down and clean up, then go back home. I think all of us could do with some rest."

You lie down on the couch while the rest of the members change clothes and wash off their makeup in the adjoined bathroom. Everyone keeps their voices low, and the dimness of the room compared to the flashiness outside almost makes you fall asleep. That is, until Felix appears at your side, holding out a juice box and a couple of wrapped chocolates.

"Here," he says quietly. "It should help keep your sugar up until we get back to the dorms."

You sit up a little bit and accept them from him, sipping tiny little sips from the juice as Felix pats your head and leaves to clean off his makeup.

Jeongin moves to lie down next to you after a while, and Hyunjin makes little origami birds out of the chocolate wrappers while Chan finalises the group's departure from the event.

"Alright," Chan says with conviction as Jisung helps you up from the couch. The members assemble near the door, raring to go. "Let's get out of here. I've had enough of this place."

You fight a weak smile as he shoots you a wink.

I couldn't agree more.

a/n: i should really try and find images that actually match for my headers. sigh

omg i just saw the prompt list

can you do something cute and fluffy with 21 + 44 for Felix, he is wrecking me again rn🥹❤️

so this is pretty rushed but i think it went okay. omg same btw, he's been wrecking me so hard the past few days with his new hairstyle too. anyway here you go <3

fall for you - lee felix

pairing: lee felix x reader

summary: you and felix are at the library late at night, studying for an exam, until things take a sudden turn

genre: another college!au but you can't really tell ig, soft shy felix, very fluffy

a/n: this fic feels so cosy. dividers by @kodaswrld

⛓️ prompts: 21. "Are you trying to get me to fall for you?" / 44. "I wasn't supposed to say that."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

The library is dead silent this time of night, you note as you walk in; the only sounds come from the faint tapping of keys on laptops and occasional taps and thuds as a pen is set down and a book is closed. No one is here but you and a certain someone.

Felix.

He is sitting with his knees tucked to his chest when you return from the cafe down the street, holding a cardboard tray of two drinks. You hand one to him and he thanks you with a soft, tired smile as you sit next to him, where your own workstation has been set up.

Your shoulder brushes his as you readjust, and you sigh as you reopen your laptop, the ghoulish blue light overtaking the warm glow of the golden desk lamps surrounding the area.

Felix laughs quietly. "Bet you missed that blue light, huh?"

You groan. "No, I dragged my feet on the way back from the cafe so I wouldn't have to face it. It's giving me a headache."

"At least you're prepared for the exam."

You groan and lean your head on his shoulder, exasperated. Your voice is muffled. "I don't feel prepared."

He ruffles your hair. "You say that every time, and then you pass with a great score. Relax, Y/nnie."

You sigh and sit upright, stretching. "I guess."

Bending your fingers to release some of the tension, you exhale and dive back into your work. You assume Felix is doing the same, and when you glance across, he is, but little do you know that he's already missing the familiar warmth of your physical action. His shoulder burns where you rested your head and he rolls it back, trying to alleviate the bittersweet feeling.

You're both already sitting fairly close; it's cold outside, and naturally, you drift closer to each other for warmth in the chilly air of the spacious library, knees tucked to chests and jackets draped over shoulders. Silence descends again, occasionally broken by one of you as you pore over shared notes or point to something on your laptops.

You sit back suddenly, turning behind you to survey the darkened shelves and sitting areas. Felix looks up from his notes.

"What's wrong?"

You grin at him. "We're literally the only ones here, do you realise?"

He surveys your surroundings too with a dazed gaze, then he nods. "Yep. I guess everyone else studied earlier."

You laugh and then hurriedly shush yourself, not wanting to disturb the peaceful, serene atmosphere that has descended like a blanket over the library interior. Felix covers his mouth with a hand, trying to muffle his laugh.

"The place isn't haunted, you know," he snickers. "You're allowed to make noise."

You point an accusatory finger at him. "It might be! And besides, you're doing the same thing."

"No, I'm not."

You roll your eyes. "All the library ghosts are going to come for you if they hear you lying, Lee Felix."

Felix snickers again, eyes widening. "Library ghosts? When'd you get that idea? You're lying now-"

You put on a very self-important expression and interrupt him, pretending to glare. "I made it up just now, 'cos I can. They can hear you, Felix."

He's grinning softly now, and a warm feeling spreads in his chest, thawing the ice beginning to frost over his skin from the library air. “I swear," he says, still grinning, "You always know how to make me laugh. Are you trying to get me to fall for you?”

You grin too and try to hide a blush, thankful for the low light. “What? No, of course not. Just trying to keep you awake.”

Felix’s smile falters slightly, unsure if he meant to say that out loud. His hand scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“I... I wasn’t supposed to say that.” He says uncertainly.

You try to play it off, teasing. “Well, now you’ve said it. So, what are you going to do about it?”

Felix’s eyes widen, and he stammers, not knowing how to answer. His heart races. He tries to cover it up with a nervous laugh, his voice a little shaky.

“I... I don’t know. Maybe you should just... make me fall for you?”

Your heart thuds, almost out of your ribcage, and you turn to him, hoping you look as confident as you sound. You don't.

"How exactly do I do that, Felix?"

He is silent. The atmosphere is charged, not least because of the conversation topic or the proximity. Felix lets his head drop and exhales heavily, like he used to when he had a secret to tell. When he raises his head, there's the faintest ghost of a shy smile on his lips. His cheeks are flushed and he's almost shaking.

His voice is so quiet when he speaks, almost a whisper.

"You don't have to try and make me fall for you, Y/n."

You tilt your head softly. "Why not?"

"Because you already have."

a/n: ooooohh *snaps fingers* plot twist

hello 🤗 saw that yours reqs are open and i was thinking about a anxious reader that can't sleep and is tired and changbin calming and lulling them to sleep

hello lovely anon ! ooo this is a good request. i didn't know if you wanted reader to be feeling anxious about something in particular, so i just did general worry and anxiety. enjoy <3

insomnia - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: you're struggling to fall asleep due to anxiety, but changbin is there to help.

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, reader struggles to fall asleep, mentions of anxiety, slight mentions of a panic attack

a/n: comments are appreciated <3

The night is cold.

Everything is perfect; outside is quiet, immured in the sheath of a late-night sky, there's no traffic outside the apartment, and the lights inside are off. The bedroom is dark, and at the perfect temperature. The hum of the AC sends cooling waves of chilly air over the room, contrasting with the warm duvet.

But you can't sleep.

Tossing onto your side for the fifth time, you huff frustratedly and almost whack Changbin in the process as you shift. He's fast asleep next to you, his face lit only by the dimmed purple and green lights emitting from the gaming setup in the corner. The bedsheets are tangled round his bulky frame, muscly arms splayed over your waist. His jet-black hair fans out messily against the stark white of the pillow. His mouth is slightly open, and he's lost in the deep, dreamless sleep of the utterly exhausted. He'd had a massive day at work, and had come home late at night and gone straight to sleep after quickly eating. He hadn't moved since collapsing onto the bed.

In the dim lights, you can just barely see him, and you pause to gaze at his face, highlighted in muted tones of violet and lime green. He looks so relaxed, so at peace.

You wish you could feel the same way.

Your brain is wide-awake, but you feel absolutely shattered. The anxiety and worry gnawing at the lining of your stomach isn't helping much either. A million thoughts race through your head, swirling and zooming and cluttering your mind. The storm rages and thunders until all you can hear is the deafening rush of your worries drowning you in a tidal wave of uneasiness and apprehension.

Turning to lie on your back, you gently pry Changbin's arm off your waist, laying it carefully by his side. You trace a little pattern on his arm before pulling away and clenching your hand in a fist by your side. The last thing you want to do right now is wake him up.

Blinking to try and clear your mind, you try to think of a logical solution to your worries. But it's like your rationality has ceased to exist, throwing you further into the raging storm. No matter what you do, it doesn't feel like it'd help at all. You think you've run through almost every possible but useless solution to your problem by the time the LED clock on the bedside table hits midnight. Nothing is working, nothing will help.

Exhaling harshly through your nose, you throw off the duvet and shiver as your bare feet hit the cold floor. You tuck the blanket into the crook of Changbin's arm so he doesn't feel your absence in his sleep. You hear him grunt softly in his sleep and tug the blanket closer.

Once you're sure he won't wake up, you creep to the window and sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall. The night is cool and serene, and you close your eyes, envisioning yourself becoming part of the night sky, a symbol of peace and tranquility. You shiver again, more intensely this time, as the cold begins to seep into your bones beneath your thin nightclothes. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you take a shaky breath, trying to keep it together.

Why can't I just fall asleep? Why can't I stop worrying?

The more you question yourself, the more your anxiety increases. It peaks and takes a firm hold of your mind, gripping it and squeezing until all that is left is a mess of uncontrollable chaos and jumbled thoughts. You don't even realise when your breathing begins to speed up and you cover your mouth, desperately trying not to make noise. The storm thunders wildly in your head, pounding and raging, and you feel yourself falling into the deep abyss, perhaps forever. Never to be found again, like a sinking stone at the bottom, of a deep, dark, cold, lonely ocean.

It's too much it's too much it's too much-

You feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrap around your torso. You gasp like you've been lifted out of the ocean you were drowning in. Changbin's arms are a life ring, floating you back upwards, helping you break the surface with a heavy, gasping breath that makes you slump into his chest with a choked sob.

"Binnie," you cry weakly, clinging to him.

He shushes you gently, rocking back and forth with you in his arms. His big, warm hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, hushing you and carefully bringing you down from the panic.

He keeps gently rocking like that, and you close your eyes against his chest, relishing his warmth. Your tears stain salty tracks down your face and seep into the material of his shirt, but Changbin doesn't mind. He kisses your forehead lightly and whispers an "i love you" in your ear before picking you up gently and taking you to bed. The warmth of the bedsheets and the heat from Changbin's body as he tucks you into his chest slowly lull you to sleep.

The storm finally settles.

a/n: for anyone who has anxiety or similar conditions, feel better ! i tried to write this as accurately as possible, and i based the panic attack off a personal experience i had. everyone's different but i hope this helped. thank you anon <3