Skz Comfort - Tumblr Posts

𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜

welcome! i write for :

💮 stray kids

i write :

fluff, headcanons, drabbles, angst (maybe a series or two once i get more confident)

not smut (not yet at least) mild suggestiveness is fine.

i don't write :

smut, kinks, cheating or anything to do with SA

minors and ageless blogs dni. please respect each other, everyone!

that's all for now. requests are currently open 💗

Low-key can I pls request Chris comforting reader on her period because I'm on my right now and I want him as my personal hot water bottle.

Thank you!!

omg first request!!

hopefully this meets your expectations hahah... i wrote reader having a really bad period... hopefully that's fine for you <3 feel better!

he comforts you on your period - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you're struggling with your period and chan helps you out

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, lil bit angsty. mentions of undressing, feeling nauseous & dizzy, cramps and period pain, reader has a period (obviously)

a/n: comments are appreciated... and whoever's reading this, feel better! and eat some dark chocolate <3

You groan for the fourth time as another debilitating cramp whacks you right in the gut, followed straight after by a dizzying wave of nausea. You're helpless to do anything but whine and writhe weakly on the bed, tangling the sheets and causing uncomfortable lumps of the blanket to pool up around you. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending.

You can't even call for Chan.

He's working from home today due to the severe weather, shut in his little studio down the apartment hallway. The rain clatters and thunders against the windows and balcony door, speckled with tiny crystal shards of hail ice. He's probably busy working away at some song while on call with the rest of 3RACHA. You can picture him busily writing down song lyrics in his notebook, headphones and black cap askew on his head, and hand messily smudging the dark, scented ink of his words on the page. His pretty, dark eyes shining, wide and focused as he does what he does best.

That pleasing mental image of your boyfriend is quickly chased away by another wave of nausea and you curl in on yourself, fighting the desperate urge to scream with whatever you have left. You didn't bother taking painkillers when the first cramp hit this morning, thinking you could muscle through it. Every time, you think you can handle the pain, and every time, you're proven completely and utterly wrong. And now you're immobilised on the bed, unable to do anything but face the bloody wrath of your monthly cycle.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Groaning, you shift achingly slowly to the side, trying to alleviate the pain. For a moment, you consider calling for Chan, but you doubt you'd be able to shout loud enough, and more so, you don't want to disturb him. The comeback is soon, and he was stressed enough at not being able to go to the company after seeing the state of the weather. He'd woken you up with a kiss, ordered breakfast to be delivered to the door, and disappeared, only pausing to throw on a hoodie and his usual cap. The studio door had shut and you had heard no more. He's been working all morning. He had said to try not to disturb him unless you really needed something, but you understood. He had a lot to do. But...

Biting your lip guiltily, and then wincing at the dull pain pooling in your stomach, you do your best to slide off the bed. It doesn't matter how much it hurts; you need painkillers. And right now, Chan can't afford to be distracted, so you muster up all of your strength to sit upright.

One foot touches the cold floor, and then the other. Both hands fly to your stomach and you double over, hair brushing your knees as you wait for the dizzying nausea to pass. It feels like you're being slammed in the gut with a sledgehammer set on fire. Attempting to regain your bearings, you sit up and wait for a few minutes. The pain dulls for a few moments and so does the headache, so you shakily stand, reaching for the wall in case your knees give out. Walking to the kitchen is a colossal effort, and a slow one at that too. The short walk down the hallway feels like a year.

Finally slumping against the counter, feet numb from the cold tiles, you take a glass from the dishrack and fill it halfway with water, spilling most of it on the counter in your hazy, aching state. Your vision is spotted with stars as you reach up on tiptoes and open the medicine cabinet to reach the painkillers.

You swallow two and move to make your way back to the bedroom. Turning, you're suddenly hit with the most awful, searing, intolerable pain. You jackknife to the floor, knees throbbing from the solid impact as they thud against the tiles. Leaning heavily on the cabinet, you rest your forehead against the cool, slightly chilled surface, and feel a liquid smearing onto the cupboard door. Pulling away slightly, you realise you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your body. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending but even worse than before.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, every heave sapping your energy. Sagging forward, you rest your face against the cool tiles, trying to stay conscious. Your surroundings blur out, replaced with an unpleasant echoing ring and the sound of Chan's footsteps.

Chan's footsteps?

He's holding his drained waterbottle in one hand and his phone in the other, eyebrows furrowing as he reads some lyric notes he typed earlier. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he turns into the kitchen and is immediately met with the sight of you slumped on the floor, coated in sweat and curled up like a dying insect in the summer.

His eyes widen and he drops to his knees, phone clattering to the side and waterbottle clanging loudly. The sound makes you wince.

"Love? Hey-" his warm, calloused hands run over your shoulders, panicked and wide-eyed. "What happened?"

You can't even respond.

Chan swears a few colorful, fluent phrases as he stands and dashes down the hallway, returning with a damp rag. He gently but hurriedly mops the sweat off your forehead and nape before tossing it aside and carefully lifting you into his firm, toned arms. Deadlifting you from the floor, he carries you back to the bedroom and sets you down gently, pulling the rumpled covers back. He rushes out of the room for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes. Hurrying into the bedroom, he sets a few things down on the bedside before gently freeing you from your sweaty clothes.

In another scenario, you would be embarrassed, but right now you can't care less. It feels freeing and the cold air in the apartment seeps into your body, providing a welcome coolness. He lifts a hot water bottle and places it onto your lower stomach, tucking it slightly into the waistband of your underwear to keep it in place. He presses down lightly and you groan weakly, the heat providing almost immediate relief from the aching.

You don't register what happens after that; only the feeling of the damp cloth sweeping over your forehead and neck and Chan's warm, gentle touch keep you connected to consciousness. He begins to sing softly, lulling you into the heavy, dreamless sleep of the sick. HIs voice floats in the air like a wisp, light and airy and lilting, yet deep, accented, and rich. You gather all your remaining strength.

"Channie," you croak.

He looks up, brows knitted together in worry. He stops his ministrations, hand hovering over your shoulder.

Tears well in your eyes. Whether it's from the jumbled mess that the morning has been, the maelstrom of hormones, emotions and guilt in your system, the debilitating pain, or Chan's seemingly endless love, you're not entirely sure. Your voice is an almost inaudible whisper.

"I'm sorry i disturbed you. I went to take painkillers so i wouldn't disturb you because i know you're busy with the comeback-"

He cuts you off, expression gentle yet concerned. "I know i was busy, but you should have called me, love. Look at the state of you."

A hot tear spills down your cheek. "I'm sorry, Channie."

He shushes you, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "Don't apologise, yeah? If you need me, i'll come to you. Please don't ever feel that you're a bother to me or that you're disturbing me. Especially when it comes to things like this," he rubs your hipbone softly with his thumb, in soothing, relieving circles.

"Channie, can you cuddle me?"

He smiles softly. Pressing himself to your back, he bends his knees, spooning and tucking you into his chest. A surge of intoxicating warmth seeps pleasantly into your body and you sigh contentedly. His toned arm snakes around your waist, pressing the hot water bottle to your stomach so you don't have to hold it there yourself. Kissing your neck softly, he nuzzles into your shoulder, telling you to sleep and that he would be there when you wake up. It feels so warm, so cosy, so safe. But the guilt of having tore him away from his work doesn't slip your hazy, fatigued mind.

"Channie, i'm sorry for being a bother."

He exhales a small, sincere chuckle through his nose, tucking his head further into your shoulder.

"You're never a bother to me, love."

a/n: how'd i do? do we like it? likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated <3

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 !

part one : the bet

part two : the lollipop

part three : porcelain and gold

part four : unexpected contact

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 !

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

the fast lane : part 3 (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, soft minho, brief mention of a past injury (read part two for context if you haven't already) reader gets tangled up in a mess, angsty chan and minho wc 3.2 k

series masterlist

part 3 : porcelain and gold

Y/n groaned for the millionth time, banging her forehead on the wheel. Her hands clenched the cool leather beneath her fingertips and she let out a heaving sigh, squeezing her eyes shut.

The arena was bright and silent, glaring floodlights casting an almost blinding glow onto the lined up cars. The road was cool and damp, fresh from the light rain. The sky was murky with early-morning fog, shades of yellow and orange peeking out from behind the clouds. Y/n could distantly hear birdsong and the noise of the city upstreet, but right now, everything was quiet. Racing on the empty track, devoid of any obstacles or cars reassured Y/n a little, and she knew that if she made a mistake, nothing too bad would happen. But she still felt tense.

Sighing and starting the car again, she drove to the side tarmac, rolling down the window and cutting the revving engine.

Minho leaned down, forearms resting on the window frame. He tilted his head and pressed a couple fingers lightly into her shoulder, firm but gentle. Y/n looked up.

"That was better," he said quietly, nodding.

Y/n sighed, defeated. "It's not good enough-"

Minho interrupted, "Do you think I would have offered to get up this fucking early to train you for no reason? No. You're doing well, okay? It's just the turns that you need to work on."

Y/n bit her lip, fighting the rising pit of anxiety in her stomach. Opening the door, she stepped out and leaned against the cool surface of the car, trying to slow her breathing. Minho said nothing, simply letting her recuperate. When Y/n finally opened her eyes, she looked straight up at the man standing in front of her, eyes tired but sincere.

"I really do appreciate this, Minho, but I don't feel that I'm getting any better. It just feels like I'm going in circles."

Minho blinked. "You are going in circles. That's the whole point."

Y/n's mouth lifted up at the corners and she chuckled, punching the man lightly on the shoulder. He grinned and leaned against the car- his car- next to her.

Y/n had decided to take a couple days' break from racing, instead focusing on getting back to 100 percent. The cut in her neck had healed slowly, leaving her with nothing but a small, white scar on her nape. Her head felt better too, no longer bruised or sore. Since the street races ran almost every night, Y/n had decided to go back a couple days after the night when Minho had dropped her home.

She'd found him lurking around the backstage arena, watching the races. He had looked up in surprise, barely-masked, thankful relief, and something else. Some glint in his eyes that Y/n couldn't quite pinpoint. He'd unexpectedly smiled when Y/n had walked up to him and shyly proffered him a lollipop, exactly like the one he'd been sucking on the night she hit her head. Y/n remembered the way he'd almost immediately stuffed it in his mouth, smiling around the thin, white stick.

You'd both spent the night up in the arena stands, out of the light and out of the other racers' sight. Just quietly observing, testing the waters around each other. Y/n had felt tense at being in such close proximity with him, but it had slowly melted away over the next few hours.

Minho was actually quite funny. In a sadistic, sarcastic way, but Y/n adored it nonetheless. He was quiet and intellectual, but ambitious and unafraid. He was a contradiction in all of the best ways.

She'd continued visiting him at the arena most nights, and you would both often end up in the stands, talking into the early hours of the morning about various things. But as much as they talked, Y/n continued to feel as if she didn't know much about him at all. Minho had a way of dodging questions smoothly and turning them on her, often so seamlessly that she didn't even realise until she replayed her interactions with him in her mind later on.

This little routine of visiting had continued for about a week and a half, and Y/n was simply content to keep it that way. But Minho had other ideas, telling her one night that she'd benefit from training instead of just winging her races. Y/n had denied it, retorting with the fact that she had no one to teach her. She'd thought about asking Chan, but she didn't trust him at all, and besides, he seemed to be too busy working on or fixing his car, racing (and winning, unfortunately), and flirting with the pretty women fawning over his racecar. She had told Minho about the ordeal with Chan the first night they'd met, and how cocky he was. Minho had simply nodded.

"We used to be close friends," he'd told her. "But we don't talk anymore."

Then he'd changed the subject.

Used to be. Y/n wondered if something had happened between them. Did they fall out? Did they decide not to talk anymore for some unknown reason? Or did they both just choose their separate pathways and slowly lose their connection with each other?

Y/n wanted so badly to ask Minho about what had happened, but it felt wrong, almost demanding. Seeing as he had been so kind to her, Y/n felt that it was rude to ask him something so personal, even if she wasn't sure why he had decided to befriend her in the first place. And if she was being honest, Y/n also felt that he wasn't really the kind of person who would welcome such a personal question with an open heart and mindset.

She also wasn't really sure if she and Minho were friends. Sure, he was nice and all, but could she really trust him? What if he was just like Chan? What could he possibly be trying to achieve by befriending her?

No, Y/n shook her head. He wasn't like that, she was sure of it.

Said man's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Blinking up at him, she stopped dead in her tracks. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even realised they'd left the arena.

They were standing in front of a little cafe. Y/n recognised it briefly, realising she'd passed it so many times before during her walks to the arena. She'd never stopped to look at it. It was quite pretty, and-

Minho flicked her forehead.

"Ow," she whined, hands pressing over the sore spot. "What'd you do that for? And why are we here-"

Minho rolled his eyes. "Well, I flicked your forehead because you've been in your head all day. You didn't even realise when we left the arena. I'm not sure you even knew that you were walking. And secondly, I'm hungry and this place has good food. Come on."

He took her hand and tugged her inside, the little bell above the shop door tingling. He led her to a little table booth in the far corner, pushing her lightly to sit down. It was a light push but Minho's standards, but Y/n knew that sometimes he forgot his own considerable strength and she almost stumbled, landing on the cushioned booth seat with an oof. Minho disappeared for a few minutes and Y/n realised he'd gone to the front to get something to eat. She hadn't brought money with her to buy anything, but she wasn't really hungry, so she sat back and looked out the window, waiting for him to return.

The cafe was modern but cute, boho-chic furnishings making up the majority of the wooden tables and chairs. The rest of the tables and chairs were white, and it all contrasted nicely against the various, lush, potted plants spilling their vines and leaves down wooden, high-set shelves. The counter up the front had a display glass lining its expanse, and behind it were stocked all sorts of pastries and other food. The place was pretty much empty and Y/n wondered why before realising that it was extremely early. Not even caffeine-lovers came down to buy their daily coffee this early. The lights were off, and there was no need for them to be on, since the sunlight spilling into the cafe from the large windows illuminated everything in a soft, golden glow. Y/n began to feel sleepy.

Minho walked up, holding two mugs and a slice of cheesecake on a pretty silver tray. He set it down and pushed one of the mugs towards her. The rich scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted into her face, filling her lungs with a pleasantly soft, warm, and spicy aroma. She inhaled deeply before looking up at Minho questioningly.

"Is this for me?" she said quietly, almost hesitantly.

He took a big gulp from his own mug before setting it down and inclining his head. "Yeah."

Y/n felt a warm flush tingle on her cheeks. "You didn't have to, Minho."

He rolled his eyes and took another gulp from the mug. "You're right, I didn't have to, but I wanted to. But if you don't want it, feel free to starve," he took one of the forks from the tray and cut the cheesecake slice into two halves, putting one on his tea plate and pushing the other half towards her. Y/n smiled.

"Cheesecake?"

Minho nodded. "Mmm. My friend loves it. I always order it when I come here. Reminds me of him."

Y/n smiled sincerely, staying quiet. She filed away this unexpected piece of personal information into a hidden chamber of her heart. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him into closing up again, and she nodded her head in acknowledgement before taking a sip from her mug.

The sweet, intoxicating heat of vanilla foam and the spicy, gingerbread-like taste of cinnamon flooded her body and she sagged back into the booth seat.

"Oh," she groaned. "This is so good..."

She heard Minho chuckle. Feeling a little bolder, she sat upright again and glanced at him curiously. He was dressed in black leather, a dark grey hoodie under his leather jacket. She could hear his combat boots absentmindedly tapping on the floor. His hair shone a lighter purplish-brown under the sunlight spilling onto the table, and his eyes were lightened to a honey brown. Y/n noticed his hands fiddling with the handle of his mug, the fingertips running up and down the smooth, ceramic surface. Y/n wondered if he was nervous, or perhaps upset about something.

"Min, are you okay?" she asked gently and quietly.

"Hmm? Yeah, sorry," he blinked at her, as if he'd snapped out of a daze. Y/n felt a knot of worry settle in the pit of her stomach, and feeling brazen, she reached out and placed a slender, much smaller hand over his. Heat from his hand flooded into hers.

Minho looked up in surprise, his fidgeting stopping. They locked eyes for a moment before Y/n pulled her hand away slowly, unsure of his reaction. She kicked herself mentally, worried she'd overstepped a boundary.

To Y/n's surprise, he chuckled. He didn't move his hand or snap at her like she had expected him to. He looked her right in the eyes, and Y/n swore for a second that there was a flash of gratefulness in his gaze. Y/n's palm froze and she smiled back, almost uncertainly.

Then, to complete this entirely unlikely scenario, Minho took her hand, calloused fingertips brushing her wrist, and placed it between his palms. Again, he was firm and gentle; not too much force, nor too little. Simply steady and reassuring.

Heat flooded Y/n's cheeks. She hadn't expected that he would be so open to her affection. He noticed her scarlet cheeks and smirked, his voice coming a little lower than before.

"You called me Min."

Y/n squeaked in embarrassment and looked away, flushing. She attempted to pull her hand out of his grip, but he was unrelenting.

"It-it was just a heat of the moment thing," she stuttered.

Minho laughed, the sound light like the foam in her mug. "Heat of the moment? Are you sure that's the phrase you were going for?"

"Shut up."

Minho chuckled before settling back into the booth seat. "It's fine, by the way."

"What is?"

He huffed a little. "I don't mind you calling me Min. But not in a sappy, lovey-dovey way, got it?"

Y/n lifted her mug to her mouth in order to hide her smile.

-

Minho opened the door to the passenger seat of his racecar, slamming the door shut. He didn't bother putting his seatbelt on, and Y/n chided him before revving the engine and speeding off. They'd returned to the arena after spending almost two and a half hours in the cafe, both of them having been too caught up in their animated conversation to notice the time passing by.

The arena was still empty, and the afternoon sun shone high in the sky. The floodlights hadn't turned on yet, and it was the sun that caught the sleek angles and edges of Minho's car as Y/n steered it around the arena track. Her hands gripped the smooth leather of the wheel and her feet danced across the pedals as Minho instructed her through the turns.

"Good, that's it- turn a little more, angle the car."

Y/n did as he said, fingers digging into the steering wheel as she sped up and executed the turn perfectly.

Minho let out a whoop of triumph and Y/n laughed in disbelief, pulling the car to the side of the track. She stumbled out and so did Minho, who swooped her up in a sudden, unexpected hug.

"Took you long enough," he said, grinning. He set her back down onto the tarmac, cheeks flushed. Whether it was in exhilaration or something else, Y/n didn't know. She was too happy to care.

The laughter died down and Y/n gazed up at Minho, his dark eyes locking with her own. They both stood there, Minho's arms encircling Y/n's waist where he'd lifted her, and her arms clutching his broad shoulders where she'd held on. He looked so pretty, the sun smoothing all his features into ivory porcelain and molten gold. Y/n saw his cheek tuck in slightly, like he was biting the inside of it. He leaned down slightly, and opened his mouth to say something, a slight flash of guilt flickering in his eyes, and then-

"What a performance."

Y/n and Minho both jerked their hands off each other like they'd been caught doing something wrong.

Chan was walking across the tarmac towards them. He was clapping slowly and the sound echoed throughout the arena, causing an unpleasant chill to run down Y/n's spine. One of Minho's hands was still on her waist and she felt it tighten infinitesimally around her hip.

Chan reached them, smirking. He had put his hands into the pockets of his racing suit, the same black and red one he'd worn the night Y/n had met him. This time, she disliked him even more.

Chan's smile faded as his eyes flitted to Minho. Y/n glanced up at her friend just as his hand dropped from her waist. He looked suddenly pale.

"Minho?" she said hesitantly. But he didn't seem to hear, his eyes fixed on the racer. Y/n saw the lines of his shoulders tense just as Chan spoke.

"I didn't think you'd have the guts to show up here, Minho," his voice was cool and calm, yet tinted with an undertone of menace.

"I've been here spectating most nights."

"I know," Chan's voice lowered. "I meant here. On the tracks. You know, after..."

Y/n heard Minho suck in a breath.

Chan was seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. Stepping closer to Minho, he looked him dead in the eyes. Y/n swore she could have cut the tension in the air with a knife. She stumbled back unsurely as Chan's shoulder nudged her as he passed. He was so close to Minho, so close that Y/n could see that there was only a few centimeters worth of space between them. She could see Chan trembling and she took another step back, unsure if they were about to fight, or worse.

Minho had gone as still as a statue, and Y/n could see the cracks appearing in his nonchalant facade. Chan was still too, but in an entirely different way. Where Minho was tense, Chan was shaking.

Like he was holding back.

Y/n heard a string of unfamiliar, garbled words come out of Chan's mouth and she shook her head a little, frowning, before she realised Chan was speaking a different language. It sounded Japanese, Korean maybe? She wasn't sure. A wave of guilt washed over her. They clearly did not want her to understand, or become a part of whatever it was they were fighting over. It didn't look much like a fight, nor a disagreement. Y/n had no clue what it was, but she knew it was something serious.

Chan spoke again, this time with a hint of venom in his tone. Even though she couldn't understand what he was saying, she could clearly tell he was blaming Minho for something. Minho looked like he was about to cry, or run away, or hit Chan. Or all three.

With a final spit of venom-laced Korean, Chan turned and stormed away, not sparing Y/n a second glance. She stumbled a step back, feeling a nauseous mix of guilt, anger at Chan, worry for Minho, shameful curiousness at both, and more than all of that, fear. Taking a second to come to herself, she turned to her friend, unsure of whether to speak. The sun had set, and Minho's features were no longer ivory and molten gold. The dawning twilight had hardened his face into a mask of cracked stone, the haphazard gaps run through with dripping silvery gunmetal. Y/n realised with a startled confusion that he was crying.

What had Chan said to him, she wondered. Turning back to the direction Chan had stormed off in, she bit her lip, trying to decide between consoling her friend and asking the other clearly angry racer if he was okay. She disliked Chan, but the stark deviation from his cocky, ambitious, flirty demeanor to the solemn, almost devastated expression he'd held as he spat made Y/n's heartstrings twitch. She couldn't help but feel as if she'd tangled herself up in a much bigger problem, and the fine hair on the back of her neck and her arms stood up at the thought. Her blood began to frost over in her veins, and she felt upset for some reason, like the entire dispute had been her fault. A dull, ugly thud echoed from behind her.

Minho had collapsed to the ground.

a/n: ooooooohh.....

Hi!:) Sorry if you busy but could I ask you something? I was thinking if you could do something where you have frequent migraines and Felix is there to take care of you and comfort you. Thanks (and also I waned to say that I love your writing). Bye 😘

awww thank you TT so sweet. hehe sorry this took me so long, anon... i had this in my drafts for ages but it's here now ! here you go <3

haze - lee felix

pairing: lee felix x reader

summary: felix helps you out when you get a migraine

genre: fluff, idol! au, jisung is goofy at the start (but what's new tbh), chan is helpful (again, what's new), not proofread nyehehe, softie lix, bit angsty, reader gets migraines :(

a/n: comments, likes, reblogs appreciated <3 divider from @chilumitos

You laugh just as Jisung shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth, grinning wildly as sauce stains the corners of his mouth. Minho slaps him on the back and Chan chides him frantically, reaching across Minho's lap to wipe sauce off Jisung's mouth. At this point, your stomach hurts from laughing so hard, a slightly painful but gleeful ache settling in the pit of your stomach. Next to your side, Felix is doing the exact same, and you both lean heavily on each other as the sound of chattering and excitable laughing fills the night air.

Felix was getting together with the boys for a night out, and had invited you along, knowing that the boys would be pleased to see you. You had gladly agreed, having nothing else to do apart from sit at home and scroll through your phone. Felix had driven the both of you to the restaurant where you were meeting the boys. Stepping out of the car, the cold, chilly air of the evening had hit you both straight in the face, and you had grinned just as the rest of the boys had come bounding up.

Jisung had tackled you in a full-blown hug, Minho and Seungmin both having to pry him off you, while Chan wrestled with Changbin's arms that were wrapped tightly around Felix. You'd been released, slightly breathless, but so, so glad to see them. Their schedules hadn't allowed for much personal time, so it was lovely to be able to sit with them under the deep gloaming of the sky and eat to your hearts' content.

It had been so long.

Finally controlling your laughter, you held onto Felix's arm to keep yourself upright, wiping away a stray tear of mirth just as Jisung choked. Chan let out a yelp, moving to Jisung's side, and Hyunjin slapped his friend harshly on the back, trying to dislodge the food.

Felix and you bent over wheezing just as Jisung cleared his airways, flipping two thumbs in the air and grinning. Your head was beginning to hurt from the laughing but you brushed it off as the rowdy group continued with the meal.

The night progressed smoothly for the next few hours, the boys talking and laughing and chattering, and you doing the exact same. Your head was beginning to throb slightly and you sipped on your drink, the iced, saccharine, carbonated drink doing nothing to ease the growing aching in your temples. Pressing your thumbs discreetly to the space under your eyes, you breathed deeply, trying to still the aching throb. When that didn't work, you dropped your hands, sighing. Guess you'd be nursing a headache for the rest of the night. You clenched the cold glass in your hand, the condensation dripping off and forming a ring on the varnished table underneath. Felix nudged you suddenly, his eyes alight with the soft, golden glow from the street fairy lights hanging overhead. His voice was soft, considering the fact he'd been pretty much yelling excitedly for most of the night.

"You okay?" he smiled, leaning down a little to peer into your eyes.

You nod mutely, not wanting to exacerbate the pain in your head, and not wanting to risk ruining the night for Felix. It'd been so long since he'd been able to just enjoy himself, no dance practices, no promotions, no fansigns or vocal lessons. Just him and his friends.

And you.

But it felt like your head had been split in half. A searing pain shot through your forehead, followed by a dull ache where the bridge of your nose met your eyelids. You clenched your fists, trying to stop a rush of frustrated tears. Why did you always have to ruin everything?

Felix, noticing your worrying lack of response, placed a reassuring, warm hand on your thigh. He leaned down a little more, eyes filled with concern and a little confusion.

"Sunflower?" he spoke lowly, just loud enough for only you to hear. "What's wrong? You look pale..." he took your hand, squeezing it lightly. You saw Minho and Hyunjin glance at you out of the corner of your eye, seemingly worried, or curious. Or both. Hyunjin looked away hastily just as Felix leaned in to kiss your forehead. Taking your hand, he stood up, and so did you, with some difficulty.

"Where are you going?" Chan said, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He looked between you and Felix, rising out of his seat a little.

"Home," was Felix's reply.

A chorus of disappointed awwws and protests arose from the group. Felix only gripped your hand tighter.

"Why?" asked Jeongin.

You collapse back into your seat, unable to stand any longer. Your ears were ringing and your knees felt weak. The fatigue had spread to every part of your body and you weren't sure if you were even going to make it home. Doubling over, you plant your forehead onto the table with a thud, groaning at the pain.

Nervous, concerned murmuring breaks out amongst the group before Chan waves them silent with a hand. You feel Felix's hand on your bicep and around your waist, Chan's forearm looping around your other arm. They both stand and begin walking down the street, where Felix parked the car. You hear him give the boys a half-hearted goodbye before he's focusing on getting you inside the car. You hear Chan murmuring before the door opens and you're back in the passenger seat, the smell of leather and Felix's favourite cologne filling your nose. You see Felix hug his friend, then Chan's hand affectionately running through your hair, then the door shuts and Felix is driving home.

The drive home feels like ages.

You balance precariously on the border between consciousness and unconsciousness, the world outside the window swirling into a blurry haze. Your head feels numb. You barely register a pair of warm, steady arms wrapping around your frame, and then suddenly, you're in bed, Felix's hand smoothing over your forehead. He tilts your head back and gives you medication, elevating your legs on a thick pillow once your restricting jeans have been gotten rid of.

You feel him gently tugging off the rest of your clothes to avoid making you overheat, and you do your best to help, but he rubs your limbs and shushes you quietly before turning the AC on and covering you with a thin, breathable blanket. It's not long before he undresses and slips into bed next to you, burrowing into the blankets the way he always does. He lets out a pleased squeak at the warmth before he turns over, his hand coming out from underneath the blanket to trace little patterns over your stomach. You feel him doodling hearts, and even through the pain, you can't help the little smile that tweaks at the corners of your mouth. You weakly reach a hand out and touch his cheek, just as you begin to fall into the deep, immuring sleep of the utterly ill and exhausted.

Felix kisses your palm, light as a feather, before tucking his head into the juncture of your neck. He murmurs something, very quietly, into the soft skin.

"I love you, sunflower."

a/n: i hate getting headaches :( just the worst

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

𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 ⊹ 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: chan's been busy, so you decide to surprise him.

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort, extreme softness, reader is a sweetheart, chan is also a sweetheart (but what's new), i cried writing this oops

a/n: happy birthday, channie ♡ (seungmin in the background) "chan you're half 56-"

The evening sun casts a golden glow across the rooftop of the studio, its last rays spilling over the horizon, tinting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The city below was alive with the hum of traffic and distant chatter, but up here, it felt like another world — quiet, intimate, serene.

Just the two of you.

Chan leans against the railing, a soft breeze ruffling his hair. He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a playful smile. “I still can’t believe you managed to pull this off,” he says, his voice a mix of surprise and affection.

You smile, shrugging your shoulders casually. “Well, you’ve been working non-stop for weeks. I figured you deserved a break.”

It had taken weeks of secret planning, coordinating with the studio staff, and a few sneaky conversations with his members to set up this surprise. You’d transformed the usually empty rooftop into a small, cozy haven. It had taken a while, with several near-accidents (mainly involving a certain Han Jisung trying to hang up the lights, but you appreciated the help nonetheless).

Fairy lights twinkled above, casting a warm glow over the space. A small picnic setup was laid out with Chan’s favorite snacks, and in the centre was a guitar, propped against a chair.

He steps closer, his eyes scanning the space, clearly touched by the effort. “This is amazing,” he whispers, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining subconsciously.

“I wanted to do something special,” you admit, looking up at him. “You give so much of yourself to your music, your fans, and your members… you deserve a moment just for you.”

Chan chuckles softly, cheeks dusted pink, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You know, you didn’t have to go this far for me.”

“Of course I did,” you reply. “You work hard every single day. I see it, and I know how much it means to you, but I also know how much you need to breathe sometimes.”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes soft as they gazed into yours. “I don’t think I thank you enough for always being there.”

You squeeze his hand softly, gazing at him. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to be happy.”

Chan pulls you into a gentle embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You make me happier than you know,” he whispers. His voice, though quiet, carries the weight of his sincerity.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, his eyes twinkling with a familiar spark of adorable mischief. “Alright, what else do you have planned? I can tell there’s more.”

You grin, stepping back and gesturing toward the guitar. “I thought you might want to play something. You’ve been working on so much music, but I haven’t heard you play in ages.”

Chan’s eyes light up, and he reaches for the guitar, settling onto one of the cushions you’d laid out. He strums the strings lightly, testing the sound before looking up at you with a grin. “Anything you want to hear?”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “How about something new? Something you haven’t shown anyone yet.”

He chuckles, his fingers already moving over the strings, creating a soft, melodic, lilting tune. “Alright, but this is still a work in progress.”

The melody that followed was gentle, the kind that made you close your eyes and lose yourself in the moment. His voice, smooth and filled with emotion, carried through the quiet evening, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. As he played, the world seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you and the music, hung in the air, making the twinkling lights seem brighter with the shining, incandescent melody.

When the song came to an end, you open your eyes to find Chan watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What did you think?”

You sigh, completely in awe. “It was beautiful. You always manage to create something so… real.”

He blushes slightly at the compliment, setting the guitar aside and reaching for your hand again. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for all of it. This- everything… it’s so perfect.”

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as the golden hour fades into twilight. “You’re welcome,” you whisper. “But it’s only perfect because you’re here.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching the stars begin to twinkle in the sky. Your hand, the one that isn't holding Chan's moves to your pocket, slipping inside to brush against something. You glance at Chan to see if he's noticed, but he's too busy looking at the twinkling fairy lights, the golden shine reflected in his dark eyes.

He looks so beautiful.

Your voice comes out a hushed, almost reverent whisper.

"Chan?"

He hums, dragging his gaze away from the lights and onto your face. His eyes seem to shine even brighter, and he smiles, making an all-too familiar warmth settle in the pit of your stomach. You inhale.

"Do you remember when we first came up here?"

He nods, recalling the memory. You know it's one of his favourites.

"I was getting stressed from all the schedules we had planned. I was supposed to fly out to Shanghai for the fanmeeting and concert the next day... I got so close to honestly just crying, and you came up onto the roof after Felix snitched to you about where I was."

You smile ruefully, remembering it all too well. Chan continues.

"I remember you told me that it would all be okay, and you gave me this," he shows you his hand, a silver ring with a movable chain running through the middle. "You said that you noticed I was fidgeting a lot recently because of the stress, so you got me this to help me stop messing with my hands."

He spins the little chain twice with a smile before continuing.

"I remember flying out the next day, sitting on the plane, watching the ground fall away, taking me away. From home, from you. But you told me before I left that the ring was a little part of you, that I could take with me while we weren't physically together," Chan's eyes are suspiciously bright. He takes a shaky breath, smiling.

"I never took it off, even when I slept. The stylists kept getting frustrated with me because I refused to take it off, even when it didn't match what I was wearing. But I kept it on, during the fanmeeting, the concert, the activities with the Kids, everywhere, all the time. Minho used to say to me during the trip, "Hyung, did she glue the ring to your finger?"."

Chan laughs then, and so do you. He had pretty much kept it on all the time.

"Even when I returned, I kept wearing it. It stopped being a part of you and became a part of us. I felt wrong without it, and during the recent events where the stylists insisted I take it off, I wore it on a chain."

You giggle, leaning into him. "I remember you ran to hug me after the concert and the chain hit my cheek. I wondered what you were doing, wearing it all the time."

Chan huffs a small laugh, exhaling. "It's a part of me now. Forever."

Your smile fades, replaced with a soft, affectionate look.

"Channie, I did all this tonight because I wanted you to have a break. But I also did this because I need you to know how much I love you. You mean so much to me, and you're always spoiling me and doing things for me, so I wanted to give back. I know that love isn't grand gestures or fairy lights or guitar music, but you deserve this. So much.

And I'm glad you played the song for me. It was so beautiful, it felt like I was floating up into the air, I felt so free and at peace. I know you always say that music is the way to capture emotions, but no song could ever capture how I feel for you, or how much I love you. Music helps us to express our emotions and fond memories, but no melody, harmony, or tune could ever express how much you mean to me. And it's frustrating because I want you to know, I want you to be able to feel it-"

"I do feel it," Chan interrupts, grabbing your hand and gazing into your eyes with a soft smile. "During the hectic last-minute dance practices with Hyunjin, where you cheer me on, or during late night conversations, our chaotic dates, or all-nighter studio producing sessions. I feel your love wherever I go, because it's always with me. It chases me like a light and spills into everything that I do."

You smile, squeezing his hand again, and continuing a little quieter. "I've been by your side through everything, Chan. The moments of joy, the quiet sadness, the doubt, the excitement. I've seen it all. I've been right next to you through it all, and you always tell me that I'm your biggest supporter, your best friend, and more than you ever thought you deserved. But you do deserve it, Chan. All of it. I always try to make moments like this perfect for you, but the truth is, any moment with you already is. Whether we’re laughing, or even just sitting in silence… I realised that I've been searching for something, and all along, it was right in front of me.

When you're working away at producing with me on your lap, when we're running through the streets at night holding hands, taking photos of each other at ridiculous angles, and fighting over the last chip, it's perfect. Even during the rare moments when we disagree, or get frustrated with each other, that's perfect too. Because no matter what either of us feels, or what we're going through or facing, I know I can turn around, and you'll always be there. And you know I'd do the same for you, in a heartbeat. Always.

Channie, I know you always say that I'm a part of you, and so is that ring you never take off, and the chain too. I know my happiness and sadness and doubt and fear and love and affection is exactly what you feel, too. The members always joke and poke fun about how we're glued to the hip and can't go a day without each other, but for once, they couldn't be more right."

You let out a shaky exhale, eyes meeting Chan's.

"I know you love that silver ring, Channie, but I want to replace it."

You smile softly and reach up to wipe away a glittering tear from your cheek. With a startled realisation that Chan is also crying, you smile softly before reaching across to do the same for him, your voice soft.

"Bang Christopher Chan, will you marry me?"

a/n: happy chan week, everyone. i hope someone does this one day for him, he deserves it all ♡

This is so JKHJHSDZXCVBNJ7TYGFBVB🥹💟

STRAY KIDS REACTION THEIR S/O BEING INSECURE OF THEIR LAUGH

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: mentions of insecurities, mad Binnie, mentions of praise, complimenting, cuddles and kisses

Requested: No

Summary: How skz reacts to you being insecure of your laugh/smile.

BANGCHAN

× he hates it. He loves everything about you and for you to not love yourself too hurts his heart😓 he knows everyone has insecurities and that's okay, though, he doesn't understand why you don't like your smile or laugh. He thinks your laugh is cute, loud or quiet, obnoxious or not, even if you hit white laughing he doesn't care. He loves seeing his baby happy and for you to hide it under your hand or silencing your laugh on purpose so no one would really hear it. Broke his heart everytime. He talked to you a few times and you're trying it's just hard and he understands that, so, baby steps. He's just so unbelievably happy when you don't hide your laugh and smile even if it's Everytime or sometimes. He'll take what he can get! He even tries to pull your hands down if he really wants to see your smile and hear your laugh. He worked hard to see it! He deserves it.

MINHO

× he hates it so much. He lit gets so upset at some point and confronts you about it. He would tease you if you had a considered weird laugh but quickly let's you know he's just playing; all jokes. He makes sure to not tease you on your smile or laughter tho,, seeing as you clearly don't like it. It's obvious pretty quickly to him that you aren't to fund of your smile/laugh. He tries to let you know that there's nothing to be insecure about, subtly. Smiles when you smile, whenever you let your guard down and smile or laugh in front of him he'll tell you he likes your laugh/smile. He'll even stop or quiet down his laughter just to hear yours since he doesn't get to hear it often, though he wish he did. He talked to you about it one day and you poured your heart to him about your insecurities, that being included. He just listened. Once you were done and got everything out, he loves you, cuddlesbyou and praises you for hours. Sure, out of character for Minho. But, it's moments like these that you both cherish oh so much. Your his baby, he'll do anything js to hear that pretty laugh of your and pretty smile that he loves oh so much.

CHANGBIN

× he's so mad. Not at you, never at you. But at the person who made you insecure of such a natural and pretty thing. He constantly praises you, he never gets tired of it either. Always worshipping you, bragging about you to his parents and sister, supports you in anything you do. Baby just wants the best for you. So, you not liking your smile/laugh kills him and makes him feel so sad. How could you say such a thing to HIS partner? HIS beautiful, amazing, pretty, talented, badass girly?, he shuts you don't Everytime because what? WDYM you're insecure? "It's the prettiest thing about you, Princess", he would always say. He didn't care how much convincing it took for you to start believing what he's been saying—even after you start loving yourself he'll still make sure to praise you. He does it in the most entertaining ways too. Never fails to entertain and amuse you.

HYUNJIN

× he takes this so seriously. He talks to you about it as soon as he knew how to approach you about it. He talked softly and made sure you were comfortable and even the setting of the mood wasn't too tense. You guys went through everything and got to know each other on a deeper level then ever before. He's glad though, he understands you and your insecurities and somewhat knows on how to help or make you feel better. He's always so sweet, loving, passionate and gentle with you. He's careful about his words when on topics that may trigger your insecurities. He always reminds you how beautiful your laugh and smile is to him. He truly means it, always. He'd never lie to you. He worships the ground that you walk on and always brags about how amazing and talented his s/o is. Baby just wants to see your smile and hear your laugh more often, the way your nose scrunches up cutely.

HAN

× you found him sobbing one day and when he told you why it was because you're always hiding your smile and laugh. Poor baby was clinging onto you like it was the last time he'd get to see you. Snot running down, sobbing, his nose red and his phone cracking from hours of crying as he rambled about how much he loves your smile and laugh and how he hated it so much that you barely ever showed him it. You felt so bad and tried showing him your smile and laugh more for him after but you still had moments you would accidentally cover your mouth or hide your laughter. Poor baby js wants to see you happy :( he worked hard to see you smile and laugh and ja hates that youre insecure about it. He loves hearing your laugh, it's the most beautiful sound that comes from you. He can never get enough of the sound of your laughter. And your smile? He thinks it's so bright and deserves to be shown off! It makes his day instantly better when he sees your smile. Poor baby js wants to see and hear you happy please don't deprive him of it😓 definitely holds your hands now whenever you try to cover your mouth while laughing or smiling.

FELIX

× makes him frown whenever he sees you do it. He doesn't try and tell you to stop but he doesn't do things to try and help you be more comfortable or show him your laugh and smile. He'll compliment your smile/laugh and says how much he loves it. He'll hold your hand on purpose because he knows you're about to laugh and wants to hear it. He tickles you all the time js to catch you off guard and he can hear your laugh, even if it's a few seconds, anything is better than nothing. He makes you smile just to hold your hands or hold your cheeks so you have no excuse to hide your beautiful smile from him. Yeah, it's a slow process, but, he's willing to do anything just to get you more comfortable around him and show him that pretty smile and laugh of yours!

SEUNGMIN

× now, this is very hypocritical for him to say that you shouldn't be insecure of your smile. Though, even if it is different reasons why you both don't like your smiles,he's still going to try to get you to start loving it. Your laugh too. Coming up behind you and wraps his arms around you as he rests his head on your shoulder. He'll sweetly kiss whatever skin is showing and softly tell you how gorgeous and pretty you are — how perfect you are to him. He loves everything about you, even your smile and laugh. He can't get enough of it, which is true. Seeing you happy makes him so happy, he loves and cherishes you so much. You're the most important person in his life and has such a soft spot for you. So yeah, he's going to keep trying until you finally learn to love yourself.

JEONGIN

× poor baby doesn't know what to do, he doesn't want to seem like he's trying to control you or boss you around or sum but he really hates not seeing your smile and your pretty laugh :( like Felix, he's tries to do things to try and get you to be more comfortable with him. Complimenting your smile n laugh, Purposely intertwining your guys hands together so he can see your smile. He tells you when he thinks you're sleeping how grateful he is to have you in his life and how much he loves not only you, but too your laugh and smile. Whether you're actually asleep or not, he's still going to say it. He's once or twice has told you that you should show your happiness more around him; your smile and laughter. He js wants you to know there's never any judgement with him and you can be yourself.

At around 1 am, you arrived to Chan’s studio. He’d been working constantly, putting himself on the back burner again for work. He said he would be home earlier tonight but you knew it was not going to happen. You told yourself if he didn’t come home by midnight you would call him. If he hadn’t answered but 12:45 you were going to get him. Now here you are finally arriving home hand in hand close to 2.

He was silent the whole way home. Really since you showed up, save for the string of frantic apologies once the shock of your presence wore off. You simply said it was time to go home. Though graciously letting him finish the last thing he was doing, you were packing his other things in the background. The quiet stretched from that point on.

You stop him in the door way as he takes off his shoes.

“Hey” you say casually. “You know I love you right?”

“I love you too.” he looks scared and worried as it seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Well you don’t need to worry so much over it” you say running your thumb over the crease in his forehead to smooth out his worried creases.

His head tilts in confusion, “Hmm?” Did he say something aloud?

“You think I don’t know what’s going on in the big genius producer brain of yours? ‘You make her worry too much. Oh you fell asleep here again she’s probably mad’. That’s you in your head but in an Australian accent.”

He laughs and you smile.

“You need to take that worry and put it into worrying about yourself. I’m not going to leave just because you worked yourself to exhaustion. I’m going to bring you home and love you and take care of you until you can function properly again.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I think the same about not deserving you but I know I love you too much to let negative thoughts ruin what we have. I just try and be a little better everyday. For me and you.”

He kisses you with a smile, feeling such adoration for you blooming in his chest. He never thinks he can love you more than he already does, then you go and make him love you even more.

“Now c’mon I was gonna ask you to eat a little something but you seemed two seconds away from a deep sleep even in your studio so let’s just get in bed. We can watch something together until we fall asleep.”

He follows you hand in hand as you lead him to your bedroom, looking at you holding his hand so gently but securely that he hopes you never let go

Time to start reblogging the long list of Sahar's fics lying in my 'to rb' queue 🧍‍♀️

Honestly there's always so much to say because I love your writing style and I don't quite know how to put my thoughts into words when I really love something

This fic.....

Man, this fic. Yes, I'm listening to fine line. Everything feels so much but at the same time just enough. You made me experience so many emotions without making it overwhelming.

It's just... I grew up with harry and this song.... And listening to it while reading this fic was just a whole new experience. It felt like listening to the song for the first time again. You've given it new meaning to me.

Everything this fic gave is just... Pls✋ Spare my fragile heart. The way mc worries about being perfect just spoke to me. The build up of tension that the main character is going through was just so real to me and this fic was like a cup of hot chocolate, comforting. It also really reminded me to just breathe and that not everyone demands excellence from us all the time.

(Also Seungmin x quality time is just what I live for so thank you thank you dearest Sahar)

In which you realize you don't have to be perfect around Seungmin.

Hurt/comfort. (wrote this while listening to fine line so i do recommend listening to it hehe)

"I bought snacks for our movie night!" Seungmin excitedly announces, strutting inside your room with a grin on his face.

You snap your head towards him, guilt already cursing through your veins. "Was it tonight?"

"Yeah, did you forget?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No, no. Um... I just- I need to finish this essay first and..." your eyes rack frantically through your desk- everything looks so disorganized to you right now. "And I... I didn't wash the dishes from yesterday," you scratch your hand uncomfortably, suddenly recalling everything you are behind in. "And I promised I'll make you cookies, didn't I?" you ask, growing more agitated with each word.

You abruptly stand up, dropping your pen and darting towards the kitchen. Your hands are shaking as you rapidly grab a bowl from the sink to start washing it. But you can't hold it still and it falls to the ground, the loud thud echoing through your home.

You are behind on everything- your work, your cleaning, your promises.

"Yn?" Seungmin calls out your name cautiously but you don't answer him, too lost in your own thoughts. When did you let things go this much? You forgot your date with Seungmin, but you weren't one to forget. You're the one who remembers every single detail, making sure that everything runs smoothly.

But the stress of finals has taken a toll on you. It was hard to catch your breath when you felt like you were crumbling down under the weight of your self-deprecating thoughts.

And you don't want Seungmin to see you this way- anything short of perfect. He'd criticize you too, right? Like everyone before him did.

"Baby, breathe," he places his hand gently on your shoulder and you freeze in your place. Your hands are tightly clutching the countertop, and you don't dare to turn around and face him.

"I'm okay," you reply, willing your voice to be strong.

"Are you really ?" he asks you softly and you look up at the ceiling in a useless attempt to stop your tears from falling.

Seungmin didn't need you to talk. He simply glances at your tense shoulders and your foot that's furiously tapping the floor, and he knows. He has his answer.

Your back is still facing him, so he slowly wraps his arms around you from behind. His shin resting gently on top of your shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm not perfect," you finally whisper after a few beats of silence.

"Who says I want perfect?"

"I just... Everything went wrong and I... I feel as if I let you down," you admit quietly and you expect Seungmin to let you go and turn away. But he doesn't, instead he tightens his hold on you and you almost can't believe it. He's staying.

"You didn't let me down. You are only human, I don't expect you to be put together all the time. Imagine how boring that would be," he adds with a chuckle and you smile despite yourself, your hand slowly raising up to rest on top of his.

"We'll wash the dishes together. And we'll bake the cookies together. But you'll work on your essay alone because why did you choose such a hard major," he jokes and you swat his hand playfully in reply.

"But I'm here," he turns you around, his eyes finally locking with yours. "We pick each other up when the other is down."

Seungmin gently wipes your tears away, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. His lips linger in there for a couple more seconds than necessary, and you almost cry from the relief that's flooding your being. He stayed.

"You don't have to pretend around me. If you are feeling overwhelmed, just tell me, okay?"

"Okay," you smile at him and he nods, satisfied.

"Now..." Seungmin smiles mischievously at you and you know there is a twisted plan brewing in his head. Your suspicions are confirmed when he suddenly bends down and picks you up. He runs towards the living room where he throws you on the couch, and then he's on top of you, tickling you until you can't breathe anymore.

"How dare you forget about our movie night! I should be your one and only priority!"

"I'm sorry!" you yell through your giggles, but Seungmin doesn't yield. He keeps on tickling you until your cheeks ache from how hard you are laughing, and you're slowly starting to forget what made you so upset in the first place.

Truth is, Seungmin didn't mind that you forgot about your date. He just needed you to laugh again.

💭my baby

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader

an: some hurt/comfort for you guys !! please remember its okay to cry and feel down, your emotions are valid<33

“hi honey, what’s up?” you heard a familiar voice on your phone. “can i come over?” you asked in a weak voice, sniffing and it startled minho a bit, since it was pretty late in the evening. “of course. did something happen?” “i don’t wanna talk about it. i just wanna be with you now,” you said, more tears spilling from your eyes. “where are you?” “on my way to your apartment.” “did you take a taxi?” minho said in a firm tone. you didn’t answer. “yn, please tell me you’re not taking a walk here at this hour.” you could hear something rumble in the background, as if minho was looking for something. “where are you?” he asked again. “near the train station…” you finally whispered, knowing that it was useless to lie to him. “alright, sit somewhere safe, i’ll be there in 10 minutes.” “no, you don’t have to pick me up. it’s okay, i can just walk,” you uttered. after all that happened today, the last thing you wanted was to be a burden to your boyfriend. “well, it's too late because i’m already in the car. stay there and wait for me.”

after a few minutes you saw minho’s car stopping at the parking spot next to you. he was quick to get out of the car and hug you tightly. you broke down in his embrace, feeling all the emotions escape you. minho placed his hand on the back of your head and stroked your hair a few times, rocking you gently in his arms. after a long while you finally broke the hug and looked minho in the eyes. he took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly, leading you to his car. he was acting so soft and caring that it caused you to cry even more, especially when he fastened your seatbelt for you. he whispered something along the lines of “you’re my baby and i’ll make sure you’re safe.” then he drove you to the nearest convenience store, buying you all the food you wanted and then finally after the terrible day you were able to cuddle with your boyfriend, slowly but gradually forgetting about all your problems.

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Hair Journey

❣ Summary: If he had to choose one thing he adored the most about you, it was your hair. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.6k ❣ Warnings: Black! Reader, fluff, slice of life, comfort, Chris has insecurity over his hair, hair talk, low self esteem, slight humor, discussion of future family ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chris is referred to as Christopher, Chris, Baby, and Channie, Reader is referred to as Baby ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Christopher loved you more than words could ever describe - there weren’t enough languages in this universe that could even begin to express the hold you had on his heart; from the top of your head to the very soles of your feet, he adored you.

Of course, if asked about any particularly favorite parts about you, he would always start with your smile, something that was just so undeniably you it made his heart soar - or, for a non-physical attribute, he would choose your voice, reminiscing on the way your warm tone would guide him out of his loud thoughts, and how your soft whispers would lure him to sleep better than any ASMR could try.

However, the part of you he adored the most was your hair, something he never thought he’d ever find himself caring about on a person until he met you.

He could still remember the first day you met, how he found himself getting lost in the beautiful, ringlet curls that framed your face and seemed to defy gravity everywhere else. A few weeks down the line he’d encounter you again, but this time the curls he’d dreamt of were nowhere to be seen, instead, in their place were beautiful braids done up into a ponytail - but, what truly caught his eye, and ears, were the captivating sounds of the beads decorating the ends.

Mentally, he swore he would use the sound they made when they clacked together whenever your head would move with each laugh he charmed out of you in a song one day.

Eventually, he would get used to seeing you with a different style every other time you’d meet, and when you eventually got together and subsequently moved in with him, he found himself absolutely excited over learning your routines, and how they differed to his.

He’d learned that ‘wash day’ didn’t only reference laundry, and realized why whenever that time came around, you claimed you’d be busy the whole afternoon; it was truly a day, and the act of simply watching you go about your routine - with your permission, of course - had him feeling like he had gone through the carefully carried out tasks of detangling, washing, and detangling once more. 

Not to mention the time variation of either styling your hair from that point, or the arm numbing job of blow drying your hair in preparation for the appointment he’d always convince you to let him pay for - there was no way he could let himself not cater for you, especially after seeing the dedication it took to even prepare for it.

Hair appointments - those were probably the days he looked forward to the most, seeing the grand reveal of what style you chose to pamper yourself with for the next month or so. It didn’t matter to him if it was the simplest blowout, or the wonderfully blended tones of extensions set into twists or braids or locs or even a weave - which he was both amazed and terrified of when you’d first told him of the installation process, but you kissed his worries away as you reassured him that it was something you were completely fine with.

It had taken an embarrassingly long amount of time to find a hairdresser who was able to provide for your hair needs, but it was all worth it in his eyes whenever he’d get a notification on his phone while he was at work; a simple selfie with your new do and the following text ‘you like it?’. 

Thus, followed a blush that crept onto his ears, and the flying of thumbs across his screen as he gushed about how beautiful you looked while trying not to giggle like a giddy schoolboy - something his ever loving members never failed to point out.

In the end, no matter how many styles you’d have done, his favorite sight would always be when your hair was in its natural state; fluffy curls trained after a simple twist out that always left the apartment smelling like your products, pomegranate and honey following after you like the fresh waft of a freshly baked pie.

He loved your curls, and he’d never forget to remind you whenever he had the chance, they were the purest form of you, and nothing would ever surpass that in his heart.

But, his love for your hair seemed to be a double edged sword with the hatred of his own.

Well, hate was a strong word, but he wasn’t in love with his hair like he was with yours - your hair was beautiful, lively, cared for in a capacity he wished he had done for himself, but sadly he could only do so much when it came to his own head.

He leaned against the bathroom doorway as he watched you carefully take down this week's twist out, oiled fingers gently tugging and untwisting the sections as you went, eyes trained on your own reflection in the mirror.

“Channie, if you keep staring at me like that, you’re gonna burn a hole in the side of my face, baby.” You teased, turning your head to catch his eye with a glittering smile.

Shrugging, he didn’t even try fighting the smile that graced his lips as he stepped further into the shared bathroom, “I can’t help it, I was lucky enough to have a girlfriend as beautiful as you, it feels like a crime to not stare.”

Your shoulders shook in a light laugh as you shook your head, fluffing out the root of the twist to make sure it was fully undone, “You’re too much for me, you flirt.”

As you went back to tending to your hair, he took his new place by the counter to continue watching from an up close perspective.

Eventually all of your twists were out, and you started the next step of separating and fluffing to give your hair more volume, lips pursed as you thought of the final layout.

“I love your hair.” Chris breathed softly, utterly awestruck with the way some strands bounced back into place as you tugged and pulled.

A small smile curved your lips, “I love your hair too, baby.”

His heart clenched as the voice in his head suddenly came to life, refuting your statement like it was a debate based on false pretenses.

“You do? I thought you liked the orange?” He brushed a strand of black away from his forehead, recalling the night he decided to dye it black since his roots had been showing more than the orange could pass up.

“I mean, I did, but you know me,” shrugging lightly, you gave him a warm side eye, “your hair looks good in any color in my eyes, and as long as you like whatever style you’re going for, and it’s healthy, that’s all that matters.”

“So, if I said I wanted to cut-”

“Aht- Don’t even say those words, be quiet.”

He laughed at your diversion, fully aware of how you liked it when he had at least enough to run your fingers through, “I’m kidding, baby, I’m safe from the scissors… for now.” Running a hand through his hair, he sighed softly as he leaned further against the countertop.

If only it wasn’t curly…

“What?”

Chris froze, eyes widening while a rush of embarrassment washed over him - did he seriously say that out loud?

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, “I- Nothing, it wasn’t anything important.”

Of course, he couldn’t expect you to not notice the subtle change, not when his eyes fell from your face to focus on the small rips in his jeans, fingers looping through the threads nonchalantly.

“Chris?”

Guilt sunk his shoulders as he slowly looked up at you once more, his heart clenching at the worried dip of your eyebrows and the soft pout of your lips.

“Baby, do you really not like your curls?”

You’d been through the surface of this topic every now and then, from the introduction of his personalized hair care to the worried, late night discussions of the state of his hair and the reaction of stays whenever the stylists would introduce a new hair color for a comeback, or his own experimentation - but, you never thought his woes ran this deep.

“I… I mean…” He scrambled for an excuse, something to rationalize his completely irrational thoughts, but his mind ran dry and he sighed, “A little bit? It’s just- I showed you what my hair used to look like before, back when it was healthier, and my curls were easier to deal with because they were fine! I was used to dealing with them as often, but now it’s like… I don’t even know how to style my normal hair anymore and it’s aggravating because if I keep treating it, it’s just going to make things worse, you know?”

Now it was your turn to sigh, turning on the faucet to wash off the product from your hands before drying them with a paper towel, “Have I ever told you how I got my hair to the point that it’s at?”

Pausing, he wracked his brain for any hint of a memory, but when he came up empty he shook his head.

“Alright, well, I didn’t always have my natural hair,” you leaned your hip on the countertop, “at some point when I was young, my mom started to perm my hair - a perm that makes your hair straighter, easier to manage, especially for a little girl back in the day, perms were everywhere.”

Chris scanned your features, trying his best to imagine a version of you without the curly mane he’d loved so much; even when you straightened your hair or got a weave, he knew your curls would always come back eventually.

“Back then, I didn’t really think too much about my hair because I was still young, you know? As long as I had pretty barrettes, or, eventually, long straight hair like the girls I saw on TV, I was perfectly fine - then I got into high school and things changed.” A soft smile curled your lips, “One of my friends told me how she was going ‘natural’, and when I learned that she wasn’t perming her hair anymore and was letting her natural hair grow out, I wanted to do the same thing! I was tired of sitting in the kitchen chair with those gross smelling chemicals in my hair, and her hair was shorter, but prettier - she looked more like herself and I wanted that too.”

Despite how long ago the memory was, it still felt fresh whenever you thought of it, recalling the way the signs of your perm wearing off started to show, and how your hair slowly started to change with each passing week thereafter.

“Long story short, I went through a lot of stages with my hair, from straight, to this awkward phase of straight hair and fuzzy roots because I refused to cut my hair, to the first time I thought I found my true curl pattern, to the time I actually found my pattern and started feeling like I was me - no longer trying to fit an image required of me.” You tilted your head slightly, “I know you don’t have complete control over how you’re supposed to be publicly viewed with your hair, and I know how it feels going from something you were used to, to a completely different situation, but you shouldn’t start to hate your natural hair over it - you shouldn’t start to hate yourself over it.”

Chris bristled, taking a sharp breath as he looked down at his hands, his thumb rubbing at the pads of his other fingers anxiously.

Pushing away from the counter, you stepped in front of him, taking his hands in your own, “I understand it’s stressful trying to balance what you want and what’s required of you, but I want you to know that I love your hair; damaged curls or healthy, weird fuzzy phase or the prettiest pattern known to man, you’re doing what you can and I love you for it - just as much as you love me for mine.” Squeezing his hands, a soft giggle shook your shoulders, “And I’m sure there’s a lot of stays out there who agree that curly haired, natural Channie is the best.”

He managed to let out a watery chuckle, sniffling as he turned his head up to finally look at you, brown eyes swimming in unshed tears. “Even if they aren’t as fluffy as they used to be?”

“Especially if they aren’t as fluffy as they used to be, baby.” Bringing a hand to his cheek, you wiped away a stray tear, “You told me first hand, your hair was getting healthier, now it’s just a matter of time for your curls to follow suit, yeah? Plus, you’ve got me, I don’t mind helping you figure out how to style your hair, even if it’s just between me and you - anything to help you love your curls again.”

Nodding, he took a slow breath to calm his nerves, the guilt melting away to hopefulness the longer you caressed his cheek, “Does… Does that mean I’ll get to use your hair products too?”

You laughed heartily, shrugging, “I guess I can use some things on you, but there’s no way all of my products will work on your hair, Channie - we can go shopping and figure it out, but be prepared, it’s a long process.” Bringing your hand up to his lightly tousled hair, you tucked a few strands into place, “I actually can’t wait to use my peppermint oil on you, I think that’ll be the first step we take.”

“The one you use after your leave in conditioner?” He beamed, easily recalling the calming scent of the oil that - embarrassingly - put him to sleep faster than the occasional sleep routine you introduced him to. “I love that one, it makes your hair smell so good!”

“Yeah? Well your hair can smell like mine now!” Grinning up at him, a spark of mischief flashed in your eyes, “And, you know, when we figure out your curl pattern…”

Chris nodded, urging you to continue as he settled his hands onto your hips, “Mhm?”

“We’d have a good idea for whose hair our future kids would have.”

You pressed your lips together in an effort to contain the laughter shaking your shoulders, but when his eyes widened as he registered your words, you fell into a fit of giggles.

“You can’t just say things like that out of nowhere!” He whined, tugging you closer to lean his head forehead on your shoulder, extremely aware of the heat rising on his face and undoubtedly turning his ears red.

“But I’m not wrong! There’s no way we’re not gonna have curly-headed babies, Chris, we might as well try to figure out what they’d look like!”

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” Lifting himself from your shoulder, he silenced your laughs with a kiss, smiling against your lips as you kissed back without hesitation. He pulled away not long after, gazing at you with eyes filled with adoration, his heart swelling as you smiled up at him with the same look. “I love you.”

You hummed happily, “I love you too, now, can you help me make sure I got all the curls separated in the back?”

With a nod, he let you slip out of his hold to face the mirror once more, sliding behind you to carefully readjust any out of place curl while you fluffed out the front and sides - glancing up every now and then to see the adorably focused furrow of your brow.

Maybe one day he could picture himself standing next to you, styling his own, less curly hair, but he knew for certain he could picture a smaller combination of you both sitting on the counter with your eyes and his personality.

Hopefully, they'd have your hair, too.

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I have a request but not sure if you are taking them. I just got out of a bad relationship with an ex who caused me trauma..(SA)

is it possible if you could write a comfort with possibly bang Chan or seungmin..?

Hello dearie,

Of course, I can write this. I am sorry you are going through this. I hope you like it. <3

"I’ll be here when you wake up…” | Bang Chan |

Bang Chan x g.n.reader

Genre: Comfort

Warnings: it is stated that the reader's ex treated them bad

When you didn’t answer your phone for the third time that day, Chan began to worry. It is unlike you because you always have something to tell your best friend. Time seemed to pass slower now. Chan counted down the seconds for the meeting to end, concern crowding his mind and spirit. Felix is the first one to notice something is off, and in their silent conversation which only involves looks, it’s clear how desperately he is to get out of there. 

You sat in the corner of your living room, screening all calls and texts. The TV is just background noise as you try to block all the horrid memories of your ex. Your head just can’t understand how is it that you are now free. He was the one who kept saying you would be together forever, a forever you didn’t want but you couldn’t help but stay. Now he is gone. 

A soft knock on the door makes you jump.

Shit. Is he here? Is he back? 

“Hi little dove, it’s me. I– just got worried you were not answering. May I come in?” Chan’s soothing voice acts like the warmest blanket in the coldest weather. 

You didn’t want him to see you like this. Have you cried in front of him before? Yes. But this is different. The feeling of your soul being completely tarnished is not something you want to put on Chan’s plate. He has enough things to worry about as it is. 

“I’m coming in, okay?”

You hear the keypad and Chan stepping in, his steps are soft and premeditated like he is scared and unsure of what he might find. 

“There you are,” he whispers. Chan doesn’t allow his heartbreak to reach his voice, but he can’t deny that seeing you like this is beyond painful. You are supposed to feel safe and happy. He made that promise long ago but that was before…well– your ex. 

Chan closes the distance between you and kneels to be at eye level with you, but your eyes can’t look at him so you turn your face away. Sobs escape your lips, but you promise you won’t cry. Not again. You’ve cried enough. His hand touches your head, you can barely feel it, but it is there giving you some reassurance. 

“He is gone, Channie,” you manage to say between cries and as you turn to him, Chan can see in your eyes there is something broken in you. Something he never noticed before but he wouldn’t dare to ask unless you want to talk about it. 

So he nods and now you feel the entire weight of his hand on your head. 

“I will start the shower for you, yeah? I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” Chan helps you up and by the time you are done crying in the shower, he has ordered food, cleaned the kitchen, and had your favourite show playing. 

You silently sit with him on the couch as he eats your ice cream. He spoon-feeds you, your body now feeling tired and getting cosy beside him. As your eyelids close your lips curve into a smile. This is the first time in three days you’ve smiled. 

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper. 

“Shhh, sleep, little dove. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up…”

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a/n: even though this is ✨fiction✨ I hope you all find comfort and reassurance during difficult times <3 my ask is always open.

crying cos my cousin and i found out that “i don’t want to admit” by Bang Chan is the only song that stopped her son from crying and gets him sleeping almost immediately 😭

Don't Worry, I'm Here For You.

Paring: Han x 9th member! Male Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Han will always be there when you have a panic attack.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I am mentioning panic attacks in this because I sometimes experience asthma attacks. Although I understand that they are not the same thing, they share some similarities.

I also just finished the first season of Jujutsu Kaisen, and it's so good. I'm currently watching the movie right now.

As the members of Stray Kids and backup dancers filed onto the stage, adrenaline pumping and anticipation swirling, Y/N couldn't help but feel a wave of unease wash over him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he scanned the stage, searching for a familiar face. There it was, towards the back of the arena, a familiar pair of eyes that seemed to hold him together when everything else spun out of control. It was Han, his bandmate and closest friend in the group. But as he focused on Han, something unexpected happened. His breath hitched, his chest tightened, and a cloud of darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision. He tried to fight it, but it was no use. Before he knew it, Y/N had ducked off stage and sprinted towards the nearest restroom.

Once inside a secluded stall, Y/N collapsed against the door, the familiar weight of a panic attack pressing down on his chest. He felt hot tears stinging at his eyes, his throat constricting as he struggled to catch his breath. Just as he was about to lose himself to the overwhelming terror, he heard a voice from outside the stall. It was Han's voice, calm and reassuring. "Hey, you okay in there?" Y/N couldn't respond; he could only manage a choked sob. A moment later, the stall door creaked open, and Han peered inside. "Y/N?" he asked, alarm etched into his features. "It's me, Han. I'm here. We'll get through this together."

As Han knelt beside him, Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over him. He wrapped his arms around his friend, burying his face in Han's shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. "I'm sorry," he managed to choke out between sobs. "I didn't mean to ruin the performance… I just can't…" of relief wash over him. His bandmate had always been there for him, understanding the intricacies of panic attacks better than anyone else. Han passed him a small bottle of water, and Y/N took a shaky sip, his breath slowly beginning to steady. "Thanks," he managed to croak out, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Han gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's not your fault, Y/N. You know that. Panic attacks don't discriminate, and they're not a sign of weakness. We're all here for you, and we'll get through this together." He pulled a small, discreet inhaler from his pocket, handing it to Y/N. "Just in case you need it," he added with a gentle smile. Y/N took the inhaler, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him.

As they sat there in the quiet of the bathroom, the sounds of the arena slowly beginning to filter back in, Han reached out and took Y/N's hand. Their fingers laced together, and for a moment, they simply sat there, lost in their own thoughts. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the bond they shared, the understanding they had for each other's struggles.

"You know," Han began softly, "I've had my own share of panic attacks on stage. It's not easy, dealing with them in front of all those people. But we've made it this far, and we'll keep going together. We'll figure out what works for you, what helps you manage them. We've got each other's backs." Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and strength emanating from his friend.

As they sat there, lost in their own thoughts, the weight of the panic attack seemed to lift ever so slightly. It was then that Y/N realized something else: he was no longer alone. He had his bandmates, his friends, and Han by his side, supporting him every step of the way. It was a realization that brought a small, hesitant smile to his lips.

"Thanks, Han," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Han squeezed his hand in response, his own smile genuine and warm.

"We're a team, remember? And we'll always have each other's backs."

How skz(ot8) would react to s/o reader having a bad day

(tw.None(?) Tell me if i need to add any)

Lol I made this because i want to throw myself off a building rn and the good thing about being a writer is that you can wright what you need!

sorry for ranting, I'll most likely re-edit this tomorrow when i'm not a mess

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Bangchan-

He is the embodiment of the lyrics "the monsters gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here."

When he gets home and realizes that you've had a bad day he's instantly by your side giving you hug's and kisses, He won't force you to tell him anything unless he's scared that your not being safe.

If you wanted to talk about it he would sit there and listen for hours, But first he would ask if you wanted advice or you just wanted someone to talk to, because he will stfu and listen if you just want someone to talk to.

But if you didn't want to talk about it than he would give you two choices, Either he would cuddle you in silence or he would talk about something that happed in his day (something cute the boys did) Nothing Bad ofc so he wouldn't bring down your mood more

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Leeknow-

He's not very good with comforting with his words so he does it with his actions, When he see's you slumped on the couch with a tear stained face he made a bee-line to the bathroom and ran you a warm bath with bubbles.

When you both got in the bath he would brush/wash your hair before drying you off and helping you put on your favorite pjs and doing your skin care

than he would lay with you in bed and cuddling with you and ofc if you wanted to rant he would let you but if you didn't that's okay, He knows you well enough to know when he needs to push you to tell him what's wrong.

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Changbin-

The moment he got home and noticed your upset expression he would cuddle you like his life depend on it.

He would sit there and let you rant for hours And would text one of the boys to bring over some of your favorite snacks.

Would 10/10 not leave your side the next day, He would tell Chan that there was a problems and he couldn't make it in until further notice

you would have to force him to go back to work but ofc not without him throwing a fit

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Hyunjin-

He would sit there hugging you and crying with you, He believes that you two are soul mates so you must share the same feelings

when your sad he's sad, when your mad he's mad, when your happy he's happy.

Once both of you stopped crying he would ask if you wanted to talk about it,

If not he would just sit there and hold you until you either fell asleep or you wanted to do something else.

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Han-

Once he saw you were upset he would head to the kitchen and grab a tub of ice cream sit there and hold you while you eat it,

all he want's is his baby to feel better, he wouldn't start talking unless you told him it was okay.

if you want to tell him what's wrong he's all ears but if not he wouldn't push you, He wouldn't let you go unless you had to go to the bathroom other wise he's clinging onto you like his life depends on it.

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Felix-

he would wordlessly pick you up and put you on the counter. letting you rant as he made your favorite dessert and food,

once he was done he would run you a bath and just take care of you, with gentle touch's, kisses and sweet words,

he want's nothing more for you to be happy and would do anything for you just so he could see your smile return to your face.

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Seungmin-

Very much like Leeknow, he would wordlessly run you a bath and take care of you, he would wash your hair, style it, brush your teeth, do your skincare, get you changed in a new set of clothes and feed you and than once's that done he would hold you tight and sing you to sleep,

you cannot tell me that this man will not sing to you,

he would do anything for you, that even means singing a lullaby to you.

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I.N-

He would be so sweet,

the first thing he would do is grab a bunch of blankets and pillows and make a fort in the living room,

grab your favorite snacks and drinks and turns on your favorite show, he would hold you tightly until you fell asleep and if you weren't tired and didn't want to talk about yourselves he would rant about his day to distract you.

lee know is so cat coded like. he LOVES getting his tummy rubbed and his hair pet and just flops on you to sleep whenever he feels like it. will definitely try to sneak under the covers and cuddle after a fight because he really can't sleep without you 😣 and if you dont give him attention because youre busy or something he'll start whining about how he's going to die without cuddles

💭just cuddle me already

pairing: bf!minho x gn!reader

an: omg anon you're so right like ??? he tries to keep this cold façade but deep inside he's a little cutie who would die without his daily cuddles >< i decided to turn the fight part into a short drabble so enjoy ‹3

around midnight you heard the door to your bedroom open. at first, you didn't dare to turn around and look at minho, pretending to be asleep. but when you realised he was trying to sneak under the covers you sat up and raised an eyebrow at him. "what do you think you're doing?" you hissed and minho pouted. "ynnn… c'mon, let me sleep here, i'm going to die if i'll have to sleep alone," he whined. though your fight was rather stupid, you were still mad at him. you wanted to sleep this through and just talk with minho in the morning, but it seemed as if he had different plans. "no, i told you i wanna be alone," you responded, laying down again and covering yourself tightly with the blanket, trying to cut the conversation. but minho didn't stop, he laid down and placed his arm around your waist. you gently slapped his hand and attempted to remove it from your body. "go away, i'm still mad at you," you mumbled, trying to wiggle out of his embrace, but minho just tightened his grip. "there's no way out, yn. just cuddle me already," he hummed. you started to feel defenseless and eventually gave in. "okay, come here," you sighed and turned around to face him. you noticed a huge smirk on his face and rolled your eyes at the sight. minho didn't waste any time and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, sighing in content. you started running your fingers through his hair and you swore you could hear minho purr like a little kitten. even though the anger hadn't left you yet, you placed a gentle kiss on minho's temple and went to sleep with a soft smile on your face.

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