Recipe - Yang Jeongin

✧ 𝔬𝔱8 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ! (스트레이 키즈) . . . ✧

back to individual member masterlist . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws | skz prompt list

chrome nails - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

summary: hyunjin lets you do his nails

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort, i know nothing about doing nails btw, crack at the end

a/n: hyunjin, just one chance, let me do your nails PLEASEEE

"Hyunjin, stay still-"

"I'm trying..."

You sigh and readjust yourself on the floorboards, trying not to jolt Hyunjin's slender, pretty hand, which is currently covered in several tiny smears of nail polish around his cuticles. He's whining as you tell him to stay still, and you fight a smile at the lilting, childlike tone in his voice.

Lifting the brush applicator, you carefully paint three, neat, dark strokes down his middle finger nail, working until you reach his pinky finger. Guiding his hand to the mini UV light you gifted for his birthday, you move to his other hand, before recapping the little glass bottle.

"What do you want drawn on them?"

Hyunjin smiles softly, his previous tantrum simmering down. "Anything you want. But it has to look super cool. I want Stay to see it."

You grin and get up, moving to the vanity, where you pull out a small case and return to Hyunjin's side. He's busy curing his other hand now, and he watches intently with a small smirk as you open the case. You pull out a tiny nail art brush, a bottle of silver chrome polish, and several metallic eyeshadows. You set them down in an orderly line and Hyunjin immediately moves to cheekily mess it up, rearranging the bottles and eyeshadows, the disorder now matching the rest of the room and the floor around you both.

There's a mess of different nail polish shades and tools scattering the floorboards, and you and Hyunjin half-lie down in the mess, limbs awkwardly positioned to avoid knocking anything over.

You carefully pull out his hand from the UV curer light and inspect each nail, gingerly tapping each one to check if the polish is dried. His nails are now a deep, solid black, the surface smooth and unmarred, and you smile in satisfaction at the neatness. His other hand's nails are just as perfect.

Picking up the chrome polish and thin brush, you detail tiny, Y2K style waves and lines over every second nail, leaving his thumbs. Hyunjin watches with an amused smile on his face as you meticulously refine each stroke with the tool, hand close to shaking with how focused you are. The room is quiet and silent, save for Hyunjin's slight shuffling as he waits for you to finish. You move to his other hand while he cures the first.

While he waits for his second hand to dry, you pick up one of your unused makeup brushes and brush a silvery eyeshadow from the top of each nail, creating an ombre effect on every other nail. You do a little for his thumb, leaving majority of the dark nail for the design you have in mind.

Brushing away the excess, you move to his other hand, and Hyunjin lets out a little 'ooh', apparently pleased with the style.

Smiling once more, you pick up the chrome and draw a tiny, silvery star on his thumbnails, writing 'STAY' in tiny, bold letters underneath. You detail the letters 'SKZ' on his middle fingers, curing them quickly before letting him inspect his digits. He kisses your forehead and tells you he loves them.

Later, both of you head to the JYP building, with Hyunjin saying that he needed to rerecord some of his lines for a song. As soon as he skips into the recording studio, he's excitedly shoving his nails into everyone's faces, wanting his members to see his new set, designed and created by you. Han lets out an enraged shriek, questioning why you're not on the stylist team, and you flush at the praise. Chan nods approvingly (though you suspect it's only because of the black element) and Felix and Changbin crowd around Hyunjin, fighting to see the chrome detailing, the smooth black polish, and the silvery stars and lettering that spell out 'SKZ' and 'STAY'.

You catch Minho's eyes, his eyebrows raised, and you grin just as you hold up your hands, where your nails are decorated the exact same.

a/n: every day i try to be loyal to chan and every day i fail (i'm sorry channie i still love you)

raspberries - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

summary: hyunjin comforts you after a long, painful day

genre: idk!au, soft hyunjin, really angsty, comfort, fluffy, sad, reader is depressed and is having a tough time, mention of throwing up, mentions of eating and ed, please be safe, and remember that you are loved

a/n: sad :( also requests open

You storm through the front door, almost tripping over before tugging off your shoes and slamming the door shut. Huffing, and on the verge of tears, you trudge down the hallway, every single step aching with a week's worth of disappointments, one after the other.

Entering the bedroom, you throw yourself on the bed, rolling over. Tugging off your work shirt, you groan and run tired, aching hands through your hair, just before the nauseating sense of overwhelm sets in.

You bury your face in the bedding and cry.

.

"Love, I'm home," Hyunjin calls from the doorway.

He's busy kicking off his shoes, about to leave them in their haphazard position on the floor, before he notices something. Your own shoes are strewn messily in the gangway, something that normally never happens.

Hyunjin can recall hundreds of times when you'd made him retrace his steps to the door and put his shoes away neatly in the cupboard. It was a familiar and somewhat comforting routine (though a little unnecessary, Hyunjin thinks).

He frowns before picking each shoe up and putting them carefully in the cupboard. Satisfied, he begins moving through the hallway, before quickly retracing his steps and putting his own footwear meticulously into the cupboard next to yours.

Hyunjin moves through the house, peeking into each room, trying to find you. He pokes his head into the bedroom, immediately noticing your spreadeagled state. He chuckles before moving to your dazed form, lying face down on the mattress.

Hyunjin pokes your side. Nothing.

He figures you're asleep before his hand moves to your hair, ruffling it gently. You let out a muffled whine and shake your head, batting his hand away.

Retracting his hand in surprise and mild confusion, Hyunjin peers down at you as you raise your head. His brow furrows in concern as your eyes meet his.

You look miserable.

Lowering his voice, Hyunjin kneels by the bed, cooing softly.

"Hi," he says quietly. "What happened, my muse?"

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes and you choke back a cry, mouth parting in distress. Hyunjin is immediately next to you, tugging you gently into his lap, rocking back and forth. Sweet nothings and whispered reassurances leave his mouth in a steady, comforting stream, but his usually soothing voice does nothing to calm your frazzled nerves.

It's all too much.

You sob like a child, leaning into Hyunjin. He notices with some worry how your shoulders are tightening in anxiety, and your hands that are balled into fists, clutching his shirt. Like you don't want him to leave, like he might disappear at any given moment.

You don't know how long it's been before your sobs quieten down. Hyunjin is still rocking you gently, kissing the crown of your forehead every now and then. You raise your head and look at him with red, puffy, exhausted eyes, cheeks streaked with hot, sticky tears.

Hyunjin smiles warmly at you regardless, seemingly not minding the large, soaked patch on his white shirt or the mess you've made of your hair and face. The adoring look in his eyes makes you want to cry and sob into him for another hour. It feels like it's been an hour.

At least, your current feelings are so overwhelming that you can do nothing but open your mouth, staring up at Hyunjin like he's the cure. But the usual, pretty, princely smile doesn't penetrate your heart with a beam of sunlight, and the sky outside feels so much dimmer. Everything feels lonely, like you're a sinking stone, trapped under the cool, dark, icy surface, chilled to the bone.

Like you're watching everything going on above water, where there is warmth and smiles and laughter and compassion, while you sink to the bottom of the deep, dark ocean, heavy and burdened and forgotten.

Hyunjin has been speaking for the last few minutes, his voice careful and soft, but you haven't been listening, too occupied with the numbing, aching feeling settling unpleasantly in the pit of your gut. An uncomfortable cloud of guilt settles over your head, sinking into your being and infusing through your skin like the cloying, sharp scent of cheap perfume.

Your head begins to swirl with a mass of racing thoughts, so fast you can't even comprehend. You feel like you're being squeezed, the life draining out of you, the edges of your vision blurring and darkening.

It's not enough. You're not enough, nothing will ever be good enough, no wonder people don't like you, why can't you just be normal, why can't you just be normal-

"Love, you need to breathe, okay? In and out for me, come on. You can do it."

He sounds so far away...

"Jinnie," you choke out, heaving. Tears stream down your stained cheeks.

"I'm here, I'll always be here, okay?"

You shake your head, sobbing. Your hands are tingling but you can vaguely feel something solid and warm against your palm. Looking up with a tremendous amount of effort, you notice Hyunjin pressing your palm to his heart. Through a haze of tears, you can feel the steady, solid thrum of his heart against your tingling, shaking fingertips.

"You're safe, okay? I'm gonna stay right here with you, just breathe in and out, you can do it, love. You're doing so well."

You choke in a heaving breath and Hyunjin coos encouragingly, still rocking you gently in his lap. Your breathing begins to even out, albeit extremely slowly.

Hyunjin doesn't let go.

.

You wake to something cold and damp being swiped gently across your face. Spluttering, you shove it away before sitting bolt upright, immediately regretting it as you feel the strength pour out of your body in a dizzying wave.

Hyunjin pushes you to lie back gently against the pillows, picking up the damp cloth and continuing to wipe gently at your stained, sticky cheeks and nose. You flush, feeling a bit pathetic, but he doesn't seem to care. His voice is soft.

"You fell asleep again, so I laid you down. What happened, hmm?"

You sniffle. "Everything is a mess."

Hyunjin nods understandingly, cooing as your hands come up to gently clutch at his wrist. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head, even that simple motion feeling like a test of ultimate strength. And you're losing the battle.

Hyunjin lets out a soft noise, gesturing to the bedside. "That's okay. Whenever you're ready, my muse. I just want you to drink water and eat something, and then we can do whatever you want."

You sniff and look to your right. On the bedside is a bottle of water, a hydration sachet, a couple of painkillers, and a little bowl of something fresh and red.

You look at Hyunjin, voice croaky. "Raspberries?"

He smiles, nodding. "Bought them this morning. It'll help you feel better, they're really good."

"Jinnie-"

"You need to eat something, okay?" Hyunjin's voice is soft but firm. "Please. It'll help, I promise. You've been running on fumes lately."

You look away guiltily, feeling a bit sick. Hyunjin's long, slender fingers come up to your face, the other holding one of the little berries.

You sigh and relent, chewing slowly on the fruit. And he's right. They are really good.

Hyunjin smiles proudly, like you've done something incredibly amazing. Ruefully, you think that in his eyes, you probably have. And it makes you feel just a tiny bit better inside.

He kisses your forehead. "I'm going to get changed, and then we can watch a movie or cuddle, or do whatever you want, okay?"

You nod silently, exhausted.

Hyunjin leaves and shuts the bathroom door, leaving you with the bowl of little red fruits. You eat slowly, nibbling, not wanting it all to come back up. Every movement is an effort, but slowly, you feel your strength ebbing back in tiny, flowing rivers.

The sky outside lightens, just a little.

a/n: *incoherent sobbing* *sniff sniff*

‧₊ a little bit sweeter - (roommate!han jisung x reader) ˚‧

pairing: college roommate!han jisung x reader

summary: jisung realises that he feels something more for his roommate who loves to bake.

genre: college!au, mentions of eating and drinking, slightly suggestive ? kissing, jisung being a whole simp for reader, one sus joke, making cookies (bc i'm craving them so bad rn)

a/n: hihi~ inspired by this post, so i'm tagging @butteredsushi and @jisunggy thanks for the fic inspo guys <3 div by @kodaswrld

skz masterlist

"Whatcha doing?"

You look up just as Jisung, your roommate, enters the kitchen, no doubt drawn by the clattering noises that you've filled the flat with. He hops up on the counter, peeking behind you in interest, where you've set a heap of bowls and pans onto the countertop.

"Just wanted to make something," you exhale, poking his cheek before moving to find the bowl you're looking for. Jisung hums and sits back on the counter, leaning on his hands as he watches you clumsily sift through the pile, muttering to yourself.

"Do I get to eat whatever it is that you're making?" He asks carefully, secretly crossing his fingers in a hope you'll say yes.

You huff and stand up from where you've been bending and peering into the cabinets. "Ji, we literally live together."

"Yeah, but like, were you planning to eat it all by yourself?"

You laugh, gesturing for him to open the cupboard directly below his feet, which he does. "Maybe, but we both know you would have eaten most of it. Do you want to eat something specific?"

"Cookies," he says instantly, not hesitating. His cheeks flush pink.

You roll your eyes, taking out a spoon. "Should've known."

Jisung throws his hands up defensively. "What? They're good for days like this, with the weather how it is right now. Be for real."

He has a point, you think as you look out the window.

It's drizzling in a fine swell over what you can see of the city, a heavy, almost blue fog casting itself like a blanket over the buildings. Classes ended early today, and you'd wanted nothing more to rush back to your dorm and rid yourself of the soaked, cold clothes you'd had to be in all morning.

To say the least, it had been extremely unpleasant weather, and it had taken at least an hour standing under the steaming water of the shower to try and bring your body's temperature up again.

You shiver as your eyes flicker over to the door, your still-wet shoes leaking droplets of storm water onto the plastic bag you'd set them upon in an attempt to keep the floor dry. Jisung was already back from his lecture by the time you got in, and he hadn't even looked up as you'd rushed into your room and slammed the door, soaking wet and chattering as you turned the water on.

At least, you think he hadn't looked up at you. In reality, he'd been waiting for the moment the door would open and you would come in.

But you didn't notice. You never do.

You set two more bowls onto the counter, missing the way Jisung's eyes follow yours as you move across the floor, gaze fixed on the way your hair is still drying, hanging in little damp clusters over your ears and nape. Your cheeks are flushed, most likely from the boiling water you shower in, and your figure is swamped in an oversized hoodie and a pair of grey sweats. His heart jolts as he looks you up and down, trying to fight that warm feeling that seems to rise in his chest every time he meets your gaze.

I have a hoodie that looks almost the same... it looks like you're wearing my clothes. That'd be so hot...

"...and then I had to rush all the way back here because it was so cold and rainy outside. You have a point, to be honest; I was thinking about eating something warm and delicious when I got back, but I wanted something a little bit sweeter- Ji. Ji, are you listening?"

"H-huh?" He shakes his head, thoughts of you in his clothes hastily evaporating. "Uh, yeah."

You point a measuring cup at him cheekily. "Liar. What's wrong? Are you too hot? I can turn the thermostat down if you want... I turned it up super high when I got back because it was so cold-"

"N-no, it's okay," he interrupts. "Sorry. Just a long morning. Classes and all that."

You shoot him a sympathetic look, opening a packet of self-raising flour. "Yeah, I get that. Poor you... And all this rain, too... not really ideal for all the walking we have to do nowadays."

Jisung can't help but smile softly at your rambling, holding the edge of the bowl as you almost knock it off the countertop. Your measuring spoon gets bumped in the process and a small puff of flour spills onto Jisung's knee, dusting the loose, black denim.

"Oops," you say sheepishly, setting the cup down. "Sorry."

He's about to reply and tell you it's okay before his gaze flits down to your hand, which is gently brushing off his knee. And suddenly, he can't seem to focus on anything but your touch. It's warm, even through the thick fabric, and he finds himself wishing you'd bumped the measuring cup a little harder so you could be brushing off all the flour for longer, your fingers gentle against his leg.

He doesn't even mind that there's a subtle white patch on the denim where it spilt.

You scratch the back of your head. "Hang on, let me get a paper towel-"

"No, don't worry," he blurts out. "I-it's fine."

You look up in surprise, tapping another cupful of flour into the bowl before adding a haphazard mix of baking soda, salt, and cornstarch over it. "Are you sure? I'm gonna make a mess in this place. I don't want your clothes to get dirty..."

"It's fine," he says again, a little more confidently. "I can just take them off."

You splutter, sending a puff of flour into the air, making both of you cough as Jisung waves his hands frantically, cheeks scarlet.

"I-i didn't mean it like that," he coughs, flustered. "I meant-"

"I know what you meant," you say, fighting a grin as you turn away to open the fridge. "Honestly, Ji."

He drops his face into his hands just as you crack two eggs into another bowl, heading back to the fridge for the stick of half-finished butter on the top shelf. You've learnt to buy more butter than you think you need; your roommate has a habit of using far too much butter than necessary on his toast. Not that your topping habits are much better; the Nutella jar is usually empty after a day.

Anyways.

Placing the rest of the butter in a small glass bowl, you set the microwave timer for 30 seconds before closing the door. Jisung's eyes follow the bowl spinning round and round inside, the butter seeping and melting into an oily mess against the glass edges.

His fingers tap against the countertop as you move your bowls over to where he's sitting, your shoulder brushing his arm as you busy yourself with tipping brown and granulated sugar into yet another bowl. Jisung cheekily dips his finger into the mixture and brings it to his mouth as you smack his hand away, relishing the raw, saccharine taste of the grains.

"You have to stop doing that.. Ew, Ji!"

He wipes his finger nonchalantly on your arm, much to your disgust. Ignoring your groans, he hums to himself as you take the melted butter from the microwave, slamming the door shut again.

"Stop doing what?" He says innocently.

"Dipping your little thieving paws into the bowls... you'll contaminate it. And wiping said paws on my arm..."

"So?" He says, grinning, ears still red from his earlier comment. "It's not like anyone else but you and me are eating the stuff you make."

You huff and tip the butter into the bowl, spilling half of it in the process. "I'm gonna put raisins in these if you keep provoking me."

"No!"

"Shut up and stop bothering me then," you huff, one hand coming up to matter-of-factly wipe a tiny speckle of sugar from the corner of his lip.

He's about to make a comment, but he goes silent; his face turns the colour of the cherry tomatoes in the fridge crisper as you whisk the butter into the sugar mixture. You don't even notice how quiet he's gone, and as a habit, begin to ramble.

"I can't believe the mixer broke," you say absentmindedly. "I had to search for ages and ages for a recipe that didn't need a mixer for the process. It's actually so much easier to melt the butter too... last time I did this, I didn't mix it all in properly so the cookies tasted horrible after- not that you cared, of course, because I came back to the glass dish where I put them in a day before and they were all gone- Ji, you're not listening again."

"Yes I am," he says, strained. His face is red.

"No you're not. Anyways, I had to find substitutes for most of the ingredients until I could get to the store last week.."

You run off on yet another tangent about the recipe and different methods of baking and flavours, but all Jisung can focus on is the fact that you just touched his lip, wiped away whatever it was that what on his mouth, without so much as blinking. Like it was nothing... He finds himself beginning to panic a little; his face still feels all hot and tingly.

They just wiped my mouth for me... Wait, isn't that what couples do in the movies?? Does that mean.. no, it doesn't, because they didn't even blink when they did it. There's no way they feel the way I do right now, like this- is it hot in here? My face feels so warm...

He's about to lift the neckline of his hoodie to try and fan some air into his body, but not before something sweet-smelling and textured lands on the apple of his cheekbone.

He freezes, watching as you dip a finger into a bowl full of white paste. Frosting.

You know Jisung likes frosting on his cookies; it's a fact he hasn't even told you, but you know from the way he always secretly opens the tub of ready-made icing in the fridge that he likes them to be eaten that way. You always make a bowl of it whenever you bake now, just for him. Currently, you can't get over the look on his face; shocked, and almost distant, like he was distracted by something.

You managed to crack the eggs, mix all the ingredients together, add chocolate chips to the mixture, form the dough into balls, and put it all into the oven without him making so much as a comment. And then slightly warm up the icing too. He's never been this quiet.

Like, ever.

"Are you okay?" You smile. "You look a million miles away."

He gulps and watches as you dip a different finger into the icing, some of it remaining on your lip as you lick your fingertip clean. He can feel the tiny dollop of frosting you've dotted on his cheek. It's probably melting with how hot his face feels.

His gaze never leaves your mouth, and his eyes flit to the mess you've made of the counter; there's not a single ingredient you haven't managed to spill a quantity of. Most of it is staining your clothes too, not that you seem to care.

Y/n...

"Ji?" You wave a hand in front of his face, trying to rid him of the glazed look in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Silence. Then-

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs.

It slips out so unexpectedly that he can't even bring himself to be surprised or regretful about it; if he never tells you, you'll never know how stunning you look in the moment, all damp hair and flour-smeared cheeks.

And maybe you don't look lovely to anyone else, but to Jisung, he's never seen anything more beautiful. And in a moment of instant clarity, he knows he's regret it forever if he doesn't tell you how he's felt for so long. Or worse, if someone else decides to tell you the same thing, and he never gets his chance...

You blink at the unexpected sentiment, not thinking much of it. "Thanks."

Turning away, you pick up a bowl and deposit it in the sink before Jisung pulls you back by the shoulder, you tumbling between his legs from where he's still sitting on the counter.

You don't even get a moment to process what's happening before his mouth is pressed gently against yours, tasting of sweet icing and brown sugar.

You mold yourself immediately into his embrace as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you a little closer as his head tilts to the left. You're pretty sure he's almost breaking his neck, kissing you like this, but you couldn't care less, and it seems, neither can he.

"Jisung," you exhale against his lips, almost gasping.

"Sorry," he whispers, though there's a hint of cheekiness behind it that he can't quite disguise. "Should've asked to kiss you..."

You giggle and pull him in again, your hands finding their way to his nape, playing with the tiny, soft hairs there before he pulls back to gaze at you. "It's okay."

He looks too far gone now; his hair is deliciously rumpled from you running your fingers every which way through it, his cheeks still stained pink. The frosting on his cheek is smeared, a long, pale streak against the perfect planes of his skin.

You're about to pull him in again, and his mouth eagerly moves towards yours, but he only gets a light brush against your lips before the oven timer rudely interrupts, beeping and echoing in the silence of the flat. He groans as you turn away and reach across to switch it off.

You hear Jisung laugh breathlessly behind you as you peer through the oven glass; the cookies, once round and perfect, have now spread into a chocolatey mess across the baking tray, and you can see several small bits of dough beginning to burn dark against the hot surface of the oven grilles.

"Shit," you mumble as Jisung pulls you back into him, peppering kisses over your face. "I forgot to chill the dough before I put them in..."

"Screw that," he sighs against you. "We should chill instead. Just us, hmm? Cancel whatever plans you had..."

"Done," you whisper. "But what about the cookies-"

Jisung pulls you impossibly closer, his breath a warm fan across your cheeks and neck.

"Forget that," he murmurs. "I have something sweeter."

a/n: i forgot how fun writing jisung is >< asks open !

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

HI!!!!! you’re my sole inspiration for writing 9th member fics (they’re so fun,, it’s like being skz’s best friend eifjsjdj) and also the way there’s barely any good fics for 9th member readers 🙂‍↕️

hff....i- my fics...jjfff...kahsj..me-? my fics...

hellaur! i'm pretty new here on tumblr and i was wondering if you wanted to be moots...i've been lowk stalking your writing for a while hehehe and ermm yeah!

hi this is the cutest thing i've ever seen in my inbox . . . ye being new always feels strange, at least it did for me, but sweets, you'll fit right into the community <3

i'm gonna take the blog-stalking as a compliment lol, and sure if you want to be moots then why not. i'm ttokki . what do i call you ?

reader x changbin with some angst involving readers birthday (like people forgetting) and binnie comforting them

here you go anon <3 also i couldn't find matching header pics but whatever (don't look at it for too long and it'll be fine)

lamplight - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: your friends forget your birthday and changbin finds out

genre: fluff, idol! au, angsty, reader cries a lot, sad boi hours, not proofread as per usual

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

You huff and slide down the closed door, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. The bedroom is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the lamp in the corner, and a cast of warm, golden light spills onto the surfaces in the room.

It's a cool night, it's raining heavily outside, and Changbin is home with you. Your schedules are free and you're off work for the weekend too. These combined things should have made you happy, but instead you felt as if you were the most insignificant, useless person in the entire world.

Unimportant, unappreciated, unloved.

You can hear Changbin pacing down the hallway, muttering something frantically to himself in Korean. You know he's worrying about whether he did something wrong, and it only makes you feel worse; that he's upset, and that he was trying to take care of you when you got home, but you had shoved him aside and slammed the bedroom door behind you without so much as a hello to him.

You were just so upset about how your friends forgot your birthday and it made you forget about the one person who cared more about you than anyone else in the entire world.

A fresh wave of guilty tears pools up in your eyes and you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs, squeezing your eyes shut as if it'll somehow alleviate the crushing pain in your chest. How could you have hurt him like that?

There's a gentle knocking at the door and you jolt, accidentally slamming your elbow back into the solid surface. Groaning quietly, you cradle your arm in your hand and try to quieten your crying.

"Jagiya?" Changbin asks timidly from the other side of the door. "Please open the door, I can hear you crying."

You sniff and wipe a sleeve across your nose, scrunching your face up in mild disgust at the wet trail it leaves behind. "I'm not crying."

You hear a gentle sigh and the sound tweaks at your heartstrings, knowing Changbin can see right through your feeble, defenseless lie.

"Jagi, I could hear you crying from down the hallway. I didn't mean to make you upset, I just want to hold you. Please open the door?"

You sigh sadly and sniff one more time before crouching and opening the door. Changbin's knelt on the other side, the line of the threshold the only thing separating you two. You look up at him, feeling like a watery, pathetic mess, and all Changbin does is smile softly, the action making your heart flutter even through your sadness.

You lean forward and crash into his arms.

He holds you like that for a while, only moving to sit against the bed with you on his lap. He doesn't say anything, just quietly shushes you and rocks you, stroking your hair and wiping your tears. After your sobs quieten down, you look up at him.

"I'm sorry I brushed you off when I came home, it's just-"

He shushes you gently. "It's okay, I could tell you had a bad day."

You shake your head violently, feeling regretful and guilty. Changbin cups your cheeks with his warm, slightly calloused hands and kisses the tip of your nose.

"What happened, jagi?" he murmurs.

You sigh. "My friends forgot my birthday."

Changbin laughs incredulously, shifting you in his lap and sitting more upright. "Who dares forgot my jagiya's birthday, huh? I want names!"

"Binnie-"

"Jagi, if they forgot your birthday then they're not your friends, okay? Dump them," he settles back against the bed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

You frown, sniffing quietly. "But didn't you forget Minho's birthday a while ago? How come he hasn't dumped you?"

Changbin laughs again, the high-pitched cackle making your mouth tweak at the corners. "Because we're in the same group with the guys," he flexes his muscles, "and besides, I have appearances to keep up with."

You giggle and lean against his chest. Changbin leans down and kisses your forehead, speaking quieter but with a grin.

"Speaking of Minho and the guys, they're coming in half an hour to celebrate, so go and get dressed and look all pretty, okay? I bought you something, it's hanging on the back of the bathroom door."

You shoot bolt upright in disbelief.

Changbin simply grins. "Happy birthday, jagiya."

a/n: awwww

the fast lane : part 5 (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, angst, chan isn't as much of a dick (yayyy), jisung is the best, lots of vroom vrooming, not proofread, brief mentions of injury, tiny bit suggestive if you squint, that's it i think 3.6 k wc

series masterlist

part 5 : white knight and black knight

"You ready?" Jisung asked.

Y/n nodded shakily, adjusting her leather jacket. The material felt foreign, unusually smooth and uncomfortable against her skin. Jisung had kindly lent it to her, since she didn't have a racing jacket of her own yet, and not for the first time, Y/n was truly grateful for his amiable nature and quick smile.

He was just so easy to be friends with.

Y/n had only spent several days in Jisung's company as he'd helped train her, but by the time Saturday's race came around, she felt as if she'd known him for years. It was a pleasant feeling, to have someone who was so willingly kind to her after experiencing Chan's confusing attitude towards her, and the other racers' nonchalance and ignorance of her presence entirely. Minho's absence still bitterly tugged at Y/n's heartstrings, but with Jisung's constant chattering, grinning, and spontaneous antics, the sadness and longing began to slowly fade away, and Y/n surprisingly found herself enjoying herself in and out of the arena for the first time since Minho's impromptu training sessions.

Jisung nudged her shoulder suddenly, chuckling as she blinked, having been so lost in her thoughts that she'd forgotten where she was. "You'll be fine, Y/n."

Y/n exhaled, nodding, glad that he'd mistaken her quietness for nerves. She liked Jisung, but being a naturally suspicious person, she was finding it truly difficult to open up and tell him things that might have come easy to someone else. She understood now, why Chan acted the way he did, how he might have been feeling the same way as she did, not knowing who to trust or open up to.

Y/n was surprised she currently even had the capacity to hear herself think. The arena was bright and bustling, trails of car exhaust smoke rising in wisping plumes against the night sky. The floodlights were slightly dimmed, their usual blinding, white glare toned down by the hundreds of coloured light bulbs threading through the grandstands, giving the arena and racetrack a garishly dramatic, multi-coloured aura of reds, pinks, blues, and yellows. The cars racing in the next heat were already lined up, decorated in flashy stripes and sheens of neon colours that made Y/n's head spin if she looked for too long. Minho's car, her car now, was there too, the neon green and chrome black cast sending a jolting, bittersweet pang through her heart. Jisung's neon red and candy-pink Mustang was positioned directly behind hers.

Someone brushed past her shoulder suddenly, smelling woodsy and spicy. Y/n knew that scent now.

Chan moved past her, walking into the crowds towards his car as if she'd conjured him there out of her thoughts. She hadn't seen him around much since their shared breakdown in the tuning shop, but she was relieved to at least see that he was okay. Yn subconsciously realised she'd been coming around to him, albeit extremely slowly and warily.

Not to say she had forgiven him for what he'd done to Minho.

Y/n considered going after him suddenly, feeling a strange urge to reconnect with him the way they'd done in the garage. But she knew in her heart Chan wouldn't want to talk about it, especially since he'd been crying. She had a feeling most of the racers here weren't really into shows of affection or vulnerability unless it was shoving their tongues down the throats of the grid girls, who were currently swarming flirtatiously around a blonde-haired racer clad in jet black and blue.

Not that there was any time to reconnect with Chan anyway.

Jisung clapped her on the back, giving her a final, million-watt smile before disappearing behind her to enter his own car in the lineup. Y/n took a shaky breath and opened the car door of her own, sliding smoothly into the driver's seat. Her fingers found their place on the wheel, the cool leather sending an involuntary shiver up her spine. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to focus. Opening them again, trying to clear her head, Y/n glanced in her rearview mirror, noticing Jisung making his final adjustments in his seat. Y/n fought a tiny, fond laugh as he hit his elbow on the window frame, his lean top half temporarily disappearing as he keeled over dramatically at the pain.

Dragging her eyes away from her friend, Y/n glanced across to her left, noticing Chan clenching the wheel of his own car next to her. His sleek, dark Corvette was polished to an effortless shine, the red streamlining catching the multi-coloured lights sprinkled around the racetrack. He was wearing the exact same black and red racing suit he'd worn when she'd first ran into him, and Y/n cringed at the memory, remembering how she'd fallen straight onto her ass afterwards. She was also convinced that Chan probably slept in his racing suit at this point. She was about to smile at the thought, turning to look at him, when she realised he looked a lot more focused than usual.

No, not focused.

Tense.

Like he was worried about something.

Every single muscle was rigid and stiff. He kept shifting in his seat, his usual bravado disappearing completely as he fretted silently to himself, frowning every now and then. Y/n hastily redirected her gaze as Chan's eyes caught hers, her heart thudding at the unexpected glance.

A grating rev from her other side made Y/n jolt. Glaring at the racer to her left, Y/n's jaw dropped a little as she realised the racer who had been flirting with the grid girls was staring directly at her. Her glare disappeared as quickly as it had come, a sudden shyness and sense of inferiority crashing over her being. His car must have been the most expensive one on the track. The McLaren P1's sleek, deep blue body was decorated with vibrant, sky blue lightning strikes detailed in black and white. It was truly stunning.

So is the racer inside it, Y/n thought.

She promptly realised she'd been staring at the blonde-haired racer for some time now. He was doing the same, his dark, almost boyishly pretty eyes boring into Y/n's with an intensity that made her want to shrink into oblivion. His face was freckled, the blonde strands falling down over his forehead and nape in messy, loosely clustered strands. She could faintly see his roots growing out, the colour beneath the harsh dye a pleasant, dark, chocolatey brown.

Y/n watched, stupefied, as the racer smirked, a strand of pretty blonde hair falling into his face. He shook his head a little, shaking it out of the way, before cocking a confident eyebrow at her and smirking again, his tongue darting out to briefly touch his teeth. Heat flooded Y/n's cheeks at the expression, though she knew he was mocking her, nonverbally telling her to stay out of the way.

Out of his way, most likely.

She watched as he threw his head back and laughed, though she couldn't hear it from her car. It didn't seem like the friendly type of laugh, either. More derisive and taunting. Y/n's hands clenched involuntarily on the wheel and she looked straight ahead, trying to redirect her moral compass, and focus.

This would have been so much easier if Minho was here, she thought desperately. She leant forward a little and watched with hawk-like eyes as a grid girl sashayed onto the track, holding a single, black-and-white checkered flag. Y/n's heart thudded as she watched the girl raise the flag. Y/n glanced at Chan one more time before the flag dropped.

The instant the green signal flared, they were off.

Tires screeched against asphalt as the cars launched forward, engines roaring. The blonde-haired racer's car had already disappeared round a turn as soon as the signal flare had launched, and Y/n sputtered, faltering momentarily.

How had he gotten there so fast?

Recollecting herself, Y/n's heart leapt into her throat as she slammed her foot on the gas. The adrenaline surged through her veins as the world around her blurred, the car's momentum throwing her against the seat. Jisung's car sped past her, stuck in the middle between Chan's car and her own, but she strangely found she didn't mind. Jisung seemed to have enough skill to hold his own, and Y/n was far more focused and preoccupied on beating two particular cars.

Chan’s car surged ahead at first, taking an early lead like Y/n had always seen him do, with smooth confidence and practiced ease. Y/n glanced at her rearview mirror; she could already see the blonde racer's car coming up behind her. He was so incredibly fast that Y/n put him out of her mind, instead focusing on Chan's car beside her.

Forget about the hot blonde guy, she thought. I just have to place, and beat Chan.

Chan's car was faster, smoother, and Y/n could tell that he knew the track like the back of his hand. But Y/n stayed focused, her knuckles white against the wheel, refusing to be intimidated. She could feel the power beneath her, every turn and shift of the road pushing her to test her limits, and go beyond. She gritted her teeth and wrenched the wheel, eyes laser-focused on the track ahead and the cars vying to overtake her.

The cars whipped around tight corners, engines screaming, sparks flying as their bumpers almost brushed. Y/n inched closer, narrowing the gap between her car and Chan's. Her eyes flicked to the speedometer—she was pushing her car harder than ever.

Y/n saw Chan’s engine suddenly sputter, and his car jerking violently. The reckless revving dropped, and the smooth power that was seconds ago relied on faltered. His car slowed, losing speed, and within seconds, it was clear—his car was stalling.

Y/n's eyes instinctively flickered back and forth between the track ahead and Chan's car, now dropping behind her. She could see him beat his fist against the wheel, his expression wild and glaring. Her heart hammered against her chest as she grit her teeth, wondering if she should slow down. But regaining her rationality, she cast Chan one last glance and sped past, right behind Jisung and the blonde racer. Steeling her focus, she looked ahead at the finish line, the grid girl now standing on the side of the track, waving the checkered flag.

Her hands tightened on the wheel. This is it.

The finish line was in sight, the wind whipping past her, the crowd roaring as they saw her take the lead, directly behind the blonde. She sped ahead, leaving Chan and his stalling car behind.

Seconds later, Y/n crossed the line, the rush of her first placing victory flooding through her veins. She slammed on the brakes, coming to a hard stop, her heart pounding, barely believing what had just happened.

She turned the engine off and with clammy hands, opened the door, stumbling out. Her ankles and wrists ached with the exertion and her fingers hurt, like they had been molded to the steering wheel. She made a mental note to buy gloves and loosen her grip next time.

The thought flew out of Y/n's head as a large, lean figure tackled her in a hug, her hearing muffling temporarily along with the roars from the crowd. Jisung lifted her above the ground, his hair slick with sweat, eyes crinkled as he laughed. He shrieked, jumping up and down on the spot, Y/n jolting in his arms.

"You did it!" he cheered. "Even beat me and Chan. How's that for a proper race, uh?"

Y/n smiled, letting out a tentative, wheezy laugh, struggling in his grip.

"Thank you, Jisung, but I can't breathe-"

"Oh! Oh, sorry, sorry," he placed her back on the ground, readjusting the jacket from where he'd disheveled it. He grinned at her, running a gloved hand through his hair. The haphazardly neon, overexcited crowd bustled around them, jostling and shouting. "Better?"

Y/n nodded, relieved, just as she spotted a head of messy blonde hair. Peeking behind her friend, she noticed the blonde racer pushing and brushing his way through the crowd. She blurted out a half-hearted excuse to Jisung and disappeared into the mess of people, trying to keep him in her sight.

Finally making her way through to the other side of the crowd, Y/n inhaled in a much-needed breath of cold, slightly smoky air, and glanced around hastily, her eyes settling on the racer. He was a little way away, talking to a slim, well-dressed man with a stern face. Y/n stumbled past a crowd of flamboyantly dressed young women and came up beside him, panting slightly. The well-dressed man disappeared with a glance at her, just as the blonde racer turned to face her. Y/n's breath escaped her lungs in a low whoosh.

He was beautiful.

Stuttering slightly, and feeling like a common peasant in the presence of someone so ethereally charming, Y/n found she had temporarily lost the capacity for speech. Her words finally came out in a rather pathetic, stumbling mess of fragments.

"U-um, I just- wanted to say, that-"

The racer raised an eyebrow, his expression not unfriendly nor open. More... mildly irritated and hesitantly curious at the same time. Y/n was convinced she couldn't have pulled off the expression if she tried.

His voice broke through the charged, slightly smoky atmosphere, the tone and pitch of it deep and thick and smooth like honey.

"Yes?"

Y/n's knees almost buckled. His voice was rich and accented, like Chan's but just a little bit more so. Y/n noticed his freckles again, spotting the bridge of his nose and cheeks, his eyes veiled by long, dark lashes. There was a slighter larger freckle on the smooth curve of his cheekbone, shaped a little like a heart. She fought the sudden urge to smile at the cuteness of it and awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Um, congratulations. For winning the race."

Her words came out more composed than before. Y/n silently congratulated herself on being able to form a singular coherent sentence in front of this ethereal supermodel of a human being.

"Thank you."

Y/n fidgeted, unsure of what to do. She intertwined her fingers, trying not to make things awkward. The supermodel racer simply stared at her, tilting his head slightly, before reaching out and tugging lightly on the collar of her borrowed jacket. A jolt of fire seared through Y/n at the touch, though he had made no contact with her skin. Like a static shock.

"Stealing Jisung's things, hmm?"

Y/n stuttered. "He let me me borrow it. Uhm, for the race."

"I see. Congratulations to you too. Much better since your last try."

Y/n almost choked on her saliva, the humiliating memory of her first race resurfacing in her mind. Had he been watching her?

All this time?

The racer seemed to notice her assumption, because his eyes widened infinitesimally, his hands clenching into fists. Seemingly irritated, he huffed out a breath that felt more forced than genuine.

Must be to keep up an image, Y/n thought ruefully to herself. I bet he's a softie under all of it. Like Chan. I think.

The blonde's thick, velvety voice floated through the air to her again, this time tinted in clarity and begrudging respect.

"Don't get cocky, rookie."

"Okay."

The racer simply nodded, apparently deeming the conversation finished, and brushed past her into the crowd.

Y/n watched him go.

☆★☆

The crowd was like a human barrier; Y/n was pushing and stumbling her way through, trying to get back to Jisung. Suddenly turning around, she ran directly into someone, almost falling over backwards. Panic set in her chest as she stumbled, the jostling crowd around her doing nothing to help her regain her bearings or balance.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, bracing, just as a pair of strong arms coiled around her waist, warm and stable. Her feet caught themselves on the asphalt, and one foot hovered unsurely just above the ground. Y/n looked up at Chan.

He smiled ruefully. "Should have caught you the first time, uh?"

Y/n's heart dropped out from her ribcage, down her legs, and out of her ass. She flushed suddenly at the feeling of his arms around her waist, cheeks tingling with fire.

"Thanks," she managed to get out as Chan pulled her fully upright. He released his hold on her and Y/n's body almost followed him like a magnet, already feeling cold without his touch. A sense of bittersweet disappointment filled her stomach. She blinked, hard, before looking up at him, unsure of what to say. Was he upset he'd lost?

"Um, your car-"

"Don't worry about it," Chan's expression was unreadable.

Such a carefully constructed mask, Y/n thought. A lot like Minho's.

But where Minho's mask was gold and ivory, Chan's was silver and obsidian.

Opposites.

In every way, it seemed. Black and white. Light and dark. Like two knights from opposing kingdoms, standing for completely different things.

White knight and black knight.

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, opening her mouth to speak. Chan beat her to it.

"I'm sorry."

What?

Y/n's dumbfounded expression must have betrayed her surprise, because Chan rolled his eyes, tapping his foot on the asphalt. He huffed, seemingly trying to steel himself, or keep his irritation in check. Knowing Chan as little as she did, she went ahead and assumed it was probably the latter.

"Just- I'm sorry. That I shouted at Minho in front of you, that I left the tuning shop so suddenly. I didn't mean to get so sentimental, just- memories, y'know?"

Y/n blinked, her capacity for speech returning from its brief holiday.

"Oh. Um- it's okay."

Chan blinked back at her, expression mildly surprised. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, disbelieving. It was clear he hadn't been expecting to be forgiven.

"I thought you'd be pissed."

Y/n shrugged. "I was, but I let it go after a while. I forgive you. You know, if that's what you want to hear."

Chan's mouth formed a small, 'o' and Y/n's cheeks puffed up, trying to hold back a laugh.

"You look like a pufferfish," she snickered.

Chan flushed a light pink across his cheekbones and tutted once at her before hastily running a hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair. Now that he was standing a little closer, Y/n could see the light bruising around his right eye showing through. She could see the light, careful smoothing of concealer over the sweat-sheened area and bit the inside of her cheek. A tiny patch of purple and green bloomed in faint patches at the corner of his eye, and to Y/n, it looked like it'd gotten worse since the last time they'd seen each other. Se glanced up at the racer, suddenly concerned, but decided not to say anything.

Chan suddenly opened his mouth to retort to her comment and was immediately tackled by a tornado with dirty blonde hair and a mesh shirt. He let out an oof and stumbled back a few steps, freezing as Jisung joyfully squeezed him around the middle. Chan exhaled before hesitantly patting Jisung on the back. Y/n chuckled.

"Y/n beat you," Jisung's voice was muffled, though it contained no small amount of glee.

Chan groaned. "Well spotted. Uh- you can let go now."

Jisung lifted his head from where it was buried in Chan's shoulder, and reluctantly let go, cheeks puffing out in a pout.

Y/n chuckled at her friend's antics and glanced at Chan. The crowd around her was beginning to feel suffocating.

"Let's go sit down."

☆★☆

Chan groaned as Jisung snatched his drink for the fourth time, laughing.

Y/n had dragged the both of them up into the bleachers, where they could watch the entire event without being crowded. The neon flashing lights and the screeching of the cars had dimmed, as if someone had draped a blanket over it, dulling the lights and colours and noises.

She dragged her gaze away from the arena below and turned her gaze to Jisung. He was busy scarfing down the rest of Chan's drink. Tossing it into a nearby bin, he turned to her with a cheeky grin. Chan groaned and shoved him lightly, displeased with the theft of his refreshment, sending Jisung into a fit of laughter.

Looking down at the arena again, Y/n replayed the events of the night. The blonde haired racer popped into her mind, and she turned to Jisung suddenly, curious.

"Jisung?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you, um- there's this blonde haired racer, he was next to me in the lineup. Do you maybe know who he is? He had the McLaren with the lightning strikes on it."

Jisung nodded thoughtfully. Chan was preoccupied, running calloused fingertips over the thick silver chain on his wrist. He looked up in interest just as Jisung spoke.

"Blonde hair, McLaren, lightning strikes... sounds like someone we know, huh, Chan?"

Chan rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. The night breeze blew his dark hair black, the wind running its cool fingers through the sweat-dried locks.

"Oh, we know him all right."

Jisung grinned cheekily, chuckling. "Chan hates him because he's a better racer."

"I do not. And he's not that good."

"Mhm, totally..."

"Oh, shut up, Jisung."

The younger boy laughed, holding up his hands in defence, leaning away from Chan. The shit-eating grin on Jisung's face was wiped away by a swift, sharp slap to the upside of his head. He groaned and flopped dramatically to the arena floor. Y/n, meanwhile, just blinked softly, unbothered by their antics.

"What's his name?" she asked inquisitively.

Chan huffed, stretching out his long legs in front of him before propping them up on the seat in front. His voice was gravelly.

"Lee Felix."

a/n: i planned to post this a month ago but oops. also felix introduction yay !

Inspired by 'relight me' so feel free to skip if it's too similar! request for a 9th member sitting down the guys/or just channie if you prefer, to ask for their support/help bc she feels herself slipping back into unhealthy habits/scared to eat/feeling so icky about it, angsty angsty but they're so proud she's asking for help

hihi~ similar request to 'relight me' but just channie and reader hehe . i liked the idea of this one too . you are loved, everyone x

what you're worth - (bang chan x 9th member!reader)

pairing: bang chan x 9th member!reader

summary: you decide to tell chan about what you've been going through. his reaction isn't what you expected...

genre: super soft, really angsty, idol!au, soft channie, mentions of ed, not being able to eat, drinking water in place of food, reader is brave for opening up, chaotic binnie, hannie, and minho, mentions of eating, drinking, lighthearted stabbing joke (no skz was harmed in the making of this fic)

a/n: this is pretty much 'relight me' in a different font . div by @strangergraphics

skz masterlist

"Minho, eat your food."

"I am."

"No, you're not. Stop stabbing Jisung with your chopsticks and eat quickly. We have a dance practice to get to."

Minho groans and slouches over the table, mimicking Changbin's voice in an extremely overexaggerated, high-pitched drawl. "We have a dance practice to get to."

"Shut up."

Jisung laughs as Changbin throws a tissue at Minho, who retaliates and lifts his water bottle, threatening. "Calm down, seriously..."

You're watching as the three of them bicker from the other side of the table, head leaning on your crossed arms. Normally, you'd be the first to initiate these sorts of petty, playful arguments, but you're weighed down by a heavy, drooping tiredness. And it's not letting you do anything.

At all.

"Aren't you gonna eat, Y/n?" Jisung asks, peering around Changbin (who is currently attempting to headlock Minho). "You haven't eaten at all today."

You sigh and sit up, downing the contents of your waterbottle. Ice fills your stomach, freezing its soft lining. You feel stiff.

"I'll eat later," you say. "Promise."

You cross your fingers under the table. Jisung shrugs and looks away, wolfing down the rest of his food. Minho and Changbin, seemingly blind to the interaction, eventually pipe down and do the same.

You sigh and watch as Minho shamelessly stuffs his face, and the sight makes you smile as Jisung and Changbin do the same. At least they're eating properly. But it quickly fades, and you snap out of your thoughts just as Changbin pokes your side.

"...Hey, Y/n. You're not listening."

"O-oh," you stutter. "Sorry."

"Why did you zone out? You always listen to me," he whines.

You always listen to me.

The phrase sparks a dangerous idea in your head. It's so immediately distracting that you stand up, scraping your chair across the floor. Minho and Jisung both look up in surprise at the sudden movement.

"Where are you going?" Minho asks curiously.

"I gotta go," you say, and promptly turn away to leave.

The three members stare after you in confusion.

.

You knock on the door to Chan's studio. The hallway leading to his door is dark, and you trail a hand along the wall as you wait for the call to come in.

There's shuffling, a thump, and then the padding of footsteps as Chan comes and then opens the door. His hair is wild, half of it skewed from his headphones. One of the muffs is placed over the back of his ear so he can hear without taking them off entirely.

"Hey," he greets, unruffled by his very-much-ruffled appearance.

"Hi," you say, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Chan pauses. "Everything okay?"

You pause for a split second, mind whirring. Why are you here, anyway?

"Um..." you begin feebly, trying to compose a singular thought.

There's a a few seconds of quiet between the both of you before Chan takes your hand gently. You exhale, knowing that he knows something's wrong.

Leading you inside the studio, he sits you down on the black couch behind his desk, taking off his headphones entirely. The cold water from earlier sloshes unpleasantly inside your stomach, doing nothing to quieten the hunger pangs gnawing at your insides. Like filling up a bathtub without the plug in, it can never truly be full.

And neither can you.

You watch as Chan begins to click on files at his desk, dragging and dropping and typing things quickly before he closes down the software entirely. You rise from your seat on the couch, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Chan-"

"Sit." He pushes you back down gently with nothing more than a flick of his wrist. You sigh and try and relax into the cushions, but it's like trying to untense limbs made of rock. You shift uncomfortably as Chan turns around.

He's so much taller right now as you're sitting down; the blue glare of his screen dims slightly as the computer goes to sleep, sending a warm halo of light over the fluffiness of his unbrushed curls.

You gulp as he sits down next to you, sliding down on the couch slightly as he tilts his head to look at the panelled ceiling. The lights up there are off; the only source of illumination comes from a small table lamp in the corner.

"Something's wrong, hmm."

He says it not like a question at all; rather than something he already knows, and he's waiting for you to confirm it.

So you do.

"Yeah." You can't stop fidgeting.

A gentle smile caresses his lips, his gaze still locked on the ceiling. "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

You exhale, a low whoosh from your very core. You're in it now.

"I- I can't eat." Your voice sounds thin, dissipating as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Chan is still looking up, but he's silent for a moment. "When was the last time you ate a full meal?"

You can't answer.

He does look at you then; for the first time you see the true softness of his gaze, the way it seems to reach out and caress your jaw. Your cheeks warm from its steady intensity.

"Don't be ashamed, Y/n," is all he says.

You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you will them away. You don't want to cry in front of him.

"But I am," you say, almost inaudibly. "There's- there's something wrong with me, Chan, and I can't-"

"Hey, hey," He sits up and cups your face, heat flooding into your skin. His palms are warm and dry, slightly rough, but you relish the touch anyway. "There's nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing at all. Sometimes we just forget how much we're worth, and our habits follow."

You sniff. "I don't have a worth."

"Yes, you do." He scoots closer on the couch, folding you into his arms. "You always have had a worth, and you'll continue to have it. Sometimes you just forget it. And that's completely okay..."

You lean into his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut. "Chan..."

He continues. "See it like this," he reaches across, letting go of you slightly, and pulls the table lamp closer to him. "Tell me what you see."

You sniff again, feeling a little stupid. "A lamp."

Chan nods. "What's inside the lamp?"

"A light bulb."

He hums and reaches across to the powerpoint, trailing his fingers down the wire til they meet the plug. He rips it out of the socket, the light flickering and dying. The room dims, so much so that you can only just see the outline of Chan's hands around the cord. "Now what do you see?"

You look at him, confused through your misery. "It's still a lamp."

"And what's inside it?"

"A- a light bulb?"

Chan nods simply and sets the lamp down on the floor in front of you, still holding the cord in one hand. "No matter how we change the lamp, no matter what shape, size, colour, or texture it is, the light bulb inside remains the same.

"Even if we damage it, or forget to take care of it," he turns to you then. "I've had this lamp for three years, and I've knocked it over countless times, spilled coffee over it, scratched it, done all sorts of damage to this thing."

You can't fight a tiny smile. He really is clumsy.

"Nevertheless," Chan continues, "It's still working. It's still shining and bringing light to this room, to me. And, like I said, no matter the damage, no matter how the outside changes..." He reaches over to the powerpoint again and plugs the cord back in. Warm light floods the room once more. "The same light keeps shining."

You don't even realise how wet your cheeks are until he swipes a gentle thumb across your face. "Even if the light turns off, it's still there. Sometimes, Y/n, we just need someone to help us bring our light back."

He wraps his arms around you. "It's okay if you can't eat. You don't have to force yourself overnight. Just take it step by step. Snack a little. Have sliced fruit. Keep hydrated, and take breaks during practices. You'll find that eating comes normally once your body's system realises that's what's missing. It's nothing to do with your worth."

You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he says simply. His voice is solid, steady, as warm as the light emanating from the lamp. The oversized hoodie draped over his torso is pillowy against your wet cheeks.

Chan is still talking softly, and both of you know that you don't have to listen. All you need to do is bask in the glow of the light and his comfort. You can feel the soft, deep vibrations of his voice from within his chest, along with the steady pulsing of his heart.

You close your eyes, and relax.

a/n: man it's been so long since i wrote something (it's been a week)

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Hi hi! It's me again :) since you offered and I loved your last fic I read, I was wondering if I could request something? A hurt/comfort+ fluff with Jisung helping you feel better after you overworked yourself <33 cute 🥺 thank you!

hello >< thank you for requesting haha, i wasn't sure if you'd take me up on the offer ! this fic is a little bit self-indulgent and i got carried away, but i had fun writing this ask, so here it is <3

instant ramen - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

summary: jisung finds out you've been overworking yourself

genre: fluff, idol! au, lots of angst, fainting, mentions of not eating properly, sad reader, hurt to comfort, jisung ft. concerned leader bang chan

a/n: eat, eat, you EAT !!

The scratching of Jisung's pen and the occasional tune of a hum were the only sounds reverberating through the studio. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, pen at his lips, and thought hard, eyes tilting up to look at the paneled ceiling. Changbin was beside him, eyes laser-focused on his own monitor, and his foot tapping every now and then against the hardwood floor.

Struck with another idea, Jisung leaned forward again and scribbled it down so fast he knocked over the energy drink at the end of the desk. Changbin snickered in the background as Jisung scrambled to catch it.

Hurriedly repositioning the can, he turned his attention back to the digital program and added several new beats, creating an entirely new depth to the unfinished track. He scribbled a scheduled recording time on a sticky note and stuck it to the monitor, moving back to his lyric notebook.

He was in the zone.

Said zone was rudely interrupted by a soft yet persistent knocking on the frosted glass of the studio door. Jisung turned almost impatiently, his inspiration and focus fleeing almost instantly at the disturbance. He sighed.

"Hey, Chan-hyung."

The older boy's voice was quiet, apologetic, but his face was unusually calm. Almost too calm, like he was holding back.

"Can you come outside for a minute?"

Changbin glanced up from his monitor before Chan waved a dismissive hand. Jisung got up quietly and shut the frosted studio door behind him.

"Hyung, what's wrong?"

Chan's mouth pressed into a firm line, pulling Jisung's smartphone out of his pocket and handing it to the younger boy. "You left your phone in the dance studio, and it kept ringing, so I picked it up. Y/n's workplace left about seven calls."

A knot of sudden worry settled in the pit of Jisung's stomach. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is she okay?"

Chan's tone was soft, yet urgent.

"She fainted."

Jisung's knees buckled, and he fumbled for his phone. True to Chan's word, there were now about nine calls left unreceived.

"Fuck," he swore.

Chan pulled his car key out of his pocket. "She's at home. Come on, I'll drive you."

✧✧✧

Jisung fumbled with his house key, his hands clammy. He missed the lock about four times before managing to slip it in, and he tripped in his haste to get inside. Chan called a concerned warning from the driveway, locking his car.

Dashing to the living room, Jisung noticed a fluffy head of hair poking up from behind the couch. He climbed over the side and landed with an oof next to you, making you jolt. You were wrapped in a fluffy blanket, a glass of water and several snacks on the coffee table in front of you. You were still in your work clothes, though they were no longer orderly and free of rumples.

His hands cupped your pale face, eyes frantically searching over your body for any sort of injury.

"Jagiya, are you okay? I came here as soon as I could, I'm sorry I missed your calls, wait, why did you-"

"Sungie, I'm fine-"

"You fucking fainted, Y/n! Do you know how worried I was? Chan had to speed here because I was so worried. What happened? This is serious!"

You bit your lip, feeling guilty tears well up in your eyes. "I'm sorry, I just- I didn't mean for it to happen."

Jisung sighed, leaning into your side, his hand coming up to tenderly stroke your thigh. Chan waited by the doorway, eyebrows creased with worry and arms folded across his broad chest.

Jisung's voice was urgent, soft. "Jagi, what happened? Chan told me he saw so many calls from your workplace on my phone, because I forgot it in the studio. He said you fainted."

You nod, a hot tear spilling down your cheek.

Jisung sighed, biting his lip so hard he thought he might draw blood. "Did you eat today? Or drink water?"

Your silence was enough to tell him the answer. Jisung fretted, his hands coming up to gently tilt your face towards him. You hated seeing him so worried. All because of you, you think.

"Y/n, we talked about this, you need to eat, you need to drink water. No wonder you collapsed."

"I'm sorry," you cry out weakly. "It's so hard, Sung... I haven't had time to do anything, I just thought if I worked harder it would all fix itself," you sob softly into his shoulder, "But it didn't."

Jisung sighed, leaning his head on top of yours. "I'm sorry for getting all pissy at you. I didn't mean to snap, I just want you to be okay. Did you drive home?"

You sniff. "My coworker drove me."

Jisung nods, kissing your temple softly. "Have you had anything to eat, apart from these snacks?"

You shake your head.

Jisung lets out a soft noise of sympathy. "Let's get some proper food in you, and some water too. Did you drink any?"

You point to the half-finished glass of water on the coffee table.

"Good girl," he says softly, standing up. "Try and finish that, and I'll make you something to eat."

"Make me something too," Chan pipes up from the doorway, trying to lighten the mood a little, and cheer you up.

You shift a little on the couch so you can watch Jisung in the kitchen. He's busy rummaging through the fridge, pulling out several ingredients, then he disappears into the pantry. He emerges with three cups of instant ramen.

You and Chan watch inquisitively as he pulls the lid off one of the cups, turning around to switch the kettle on. He knocks the entire cup off the countertop, the dried ramen noodles scattering all over the floor. Chan winces just as a muffled curse comes from behind the kitchen island.

You take small, slow sips of the water, the glass cool against your skin as you watch Jisung clean up the mess. Chan carries two tablets to you and you swallow them before thanking him quietly, hoping the medicine will kick in soon. He leans against the back of the couch, watching Jisung clatter about in the kitchen. The kettle stopped boiling a while ago, but you appreciate Jisung's efforts nonetheless.

Chan leans down to you, an eyebrow quirked and his voice low. "He'll be a while," he says with a defeated chuckle, pulling out his phone and swiping up onto a takeout app. "Let's just order food."

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

a/n: i need new dividers