⁺‧₊˚💿✮ 𝔰𝓴𝔷 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ! 🎧✮˚₊‧⁺˖

lonely st. ✧ chapter v : behind closed doors

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: han jisung in the building, the usual stuff, hyunjin is confused poor baby :( yeji is a dick

a/n: chapter fiveeeee

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n watched as a butterfly fluttered past her, wings flapping haphazardly. Sighing and leaning against the rough, sanded brick of the school wall, she took a breath and began to walk home.

She'd been stalling for no particular reason; it was just that going home felt mundane and unexciting without the walk with Hyunjin. He'd told her in their last class that he was staying back for basketball practice that afternoon and she'd nodded, watching as he'd apologized for not being able to walk home with her.

Then he'd run off.

The sky seemed a little dimmer than usual, and Y/n clutched the strap of her bag as she made her way down the street, trying to become an inconspicuous presence amongst the throngs of students milling past her. She inhaled deeply as she put one foot in front of the other, the smell of the fresh, post-storm air soothing her lungs and cleansing her insides.

Y/n let her arms relax, her sketchbook slipping out from under the crook of her elbow and dropping to the pavement. Reaching to pick it up, her hand collided with someone else's, large and veiny unlike her own.

"Sorry, Y/n."

Y/n shook her head and took the sketchbook without looking at who it was, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She suddenly tilted her head in confusion, quickly checking the book for any damage.

"Wait- how do you know my name?"

"I'm in some of your classes. I don't think we've talked before, but I'm one of Hyunjin's friends. I play basketball with him too."

Y/n looked up hesitantly. The boy had a friendly, wide grin, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, much like the way Hyunjin wore his school shirt. His slightly fluffy hair was parted messily down the middle. He wasn't wearing a blazer or sweater vest, and Y/n noticed a pair of colourful sneakers on his feet, thick and chunky. Basketballer shoes.

The boy extended a hand. "I'm Han Jisung. Nice to meet ya."

"So, how's it going with Hyunjin?" Han asked casually, almost skipping alongside the path next to Y/n.

She glared at him warily, wondering if he was fishing for details, or trying to find out if she liked Hyunjin. But Han's face was open, not expectant or eager. Not a hint of malice showed in his features, just a casual, easygoing demeanour that Y/n sort of liked. He was quite the talker, so it suited her perfectly to walk in silence while Han talked about this and that.

"It's good," she said quietly.

Han nodded, jumping up to tug a random leaf off an overhanging branch. He'd offered to walk her home, and Y/n figured that if he was one of Hyunjin's friends, he was probably trustable. But she kept an eye on him nonetheless, not wishing to risk anything.

The walk had been nice, though, with Han keeping up a constant stream of cheerful chatter along the way. He's a bit like the sun, Y/n thought to herself.

She watched silently as Han leapt up to slap a sign with impressive height, a metallic thunk ringing out as he slammed a palm against it. He landed easily on his feet and turned back to Y/n, grinning.

"You try," he said.

Y/n shook her head and Han whined.

"Come onnnn, just one go. I reckon you can reach it."

Y/n sighed as Han excitedly took her bag, holding it for her. Mustering up the nonexistent strength, she ran a few steps, swinging her arms up for momentum, and jumped. Her palm hit the middle of the sign with a satisfying bang, the same thunking noise ringing out into the street.

Landing, she stumbled a little, before glancing up at Han, breathless. He cheered, clapping wildly, and handed her bag back to her. Y/n smiled without even realising. That was the fastest she'd moved in a long time. It felt good.

They reached the willow tree five minutes later, Y/n's smile fading unexpectedly. She'd actually really enjoyed walking with Han, and the rest of the walk home without his constant chattering and antics made Y/n's heart sink more than she would have liked to admit.

Han glanced up and let a hand trail through the low-hanging fronds of the willow. Thoughtfully tugging off a couple leaves, he let them flutter to the pavement before looking across at Y/n, who was seemingly lost in thought.

He turned and dug through his bag, hand reaching past the mess of pencils, uncapped pens, crumpled worksheets, and- oh, that's where his wrist brace went- to pull out a scrap of paper and a pen.

Scribbling down his number, he glanced across at Y/n, who was still staring into the distance, and recapped the pen. Shyly, he poked her arm and held out the piece of paper.

She took it hesitantly and glanced at the messy writing. Her eyes widened a tiny bit.

Han shook his hands frantically at her surprised expression, afraid he'd gone too far. "U-um, I just thought it'd be good for you to have my number- you know, since we're both friends with Hyunjin and all, it might be good to stay in contact.. if you want to, of course-"

Y/n nodded, butterflies taking flight in her stomach. "Thanks."

"That's okay. Maybe we can text tonight? Again, if you want to..."

Y/n smiled a tiny bit, the expression feeling strange and unfamiliar. She'd only known Han for 20 minutes, but he already felt like a friend. Maybe they already were friends.

Was it possible to be friends with someone even if you hadn't known them for a long time? Or was that just something people said all the time, but wasn't actually true?

She bid Han a quiet goodbye and he turned and walked back down the street, pausing only to give her a grin over his shoulder. He gestured a texting action with his hands and mouthed 'tonight' before turning the corner and disappearing.

Y/n glanced down at the piece of paper between her fingers. He'd scribbled his number haphazardly across the paper. Next to the last digit was a little smiley face and a messy rendition of a basketball.

The strange, warm, fuzzy sensation came back, settling in Y/n's stomach like a warm, chocolatey drink on a cold winter's day.

For the first time, Y/n welcomed the feeling.

Y/n sighed in relief, shutting her textbook. Her teachers were really dishing out the homework this week for some reason. She'd told herself to finish it before texting Han, and her fingers had been itching to touch her phone throughout. She'd ended up shutting it into her bedside drawer so she wouldn't get distracted.

Looking out her window thoughtfully, she put the textbook neatly to the side and moved to her bed, pulling out her phone from the drawer. She bit her lip

What if it was all just a joke? What if Han had just given her his number so he could clown her for thinking that he really was her friend?

Shaking her head, Y/n entered Han's number and hit the texting application. Thumbing out a short message, she hit sent before she could second-guess herself.

*texting unknown number* y/n: han? unknown number: y/n, hey!

Y/n blinked, wondering if she was seeing things. She wasn't. That was fast.

unknown number: i was worried i'd written my number down wrong. i'm not good at remembering stuff, so i'm glad i got it right 👌 y/n: yeah y/n: thank you for walking with me today unknown number: of course unknown number: it was fun, actually unknown number: and a nice change from having to listen to felix scold me about eating things i shouldn't y/n: ... unknown number: don't question it unknown number: by the way, you can call me jisung. we're friends now, so you don't have to be formal 😁 *y/n changed 'unknown number' to 'jisung'* y/n 🎨: there, i changed it jisung: cool jisung: i already changed yours to 'y/n 🎨' y/n 🎨: why the paint palette emoji? jisung: hyunjin told me and felix that you sketch. he said you're really good. jisung: you being an artist is really cool. i can't draw to save my life

A warm feeling spread across Y/n's cheeks, the same way it had when she'd shown Hyunjin a snippet of one of her sketches during their daily lunchtime library sessions. She wondered when Hyunjin had told his friend about her passion for sketching.

Y/n thought that Jisung was honestly really sweet for not being afraid to compliment her on it.

y/n 🎨: thanks y/n 🎨: you said you played basketball? jisung: yup jisung: we have a championship tournament coming up soon too y/n 🎨: that's cool y/n 🎨: are there positions in basketball? like offense or defence jisung: yeah, i play power forward jisung: hyunjin plays center since he's pretty much the designated captain, plus he's really good y/n 🎨: i haven't seen him play, but i can believe that jisung: yea, he's amazing. wish i could be as good as he is y/n 🎨: i bet you're a great player too jisung: you know, you're actually really nice y/n 🎨: thanks...? jisung: nonono not like that jisung: i just meant that i didn't expect you to be so sweet, you usually sort of come across as... y/n 🎨: cold? jisung: ...yeah. but it's not a bad thing. jisung: it just means that when you do show emotion, you mean it with your whole heart

Y/n rolled over onto her back and looked up thoughtfully at the ceiling. She'd never thought of it that way. It made sense.

A thought occurred to her suddenly.

y/n 🎨: hyunjin usually walks home with me jisung: yeah, he told me about that. when you gave him the bandaids too. jisung: what about it? y/n 🎨: he said he had basketball practice. you're on the team too, so how come you didn't know jisung: i thought you were y/n, not some sort of super detective, jeez! y/n 🎨: haha, it just occurred to me jisung: hyunjin sometimes stays back by himself so he can practice. though i do think he overdoes it sometimes y/n 🎨: he seems like he loves playing basketball a lot jisung: sometimes i think if i asked him to choose between me and his beloved basketball, he would choose basketball 🥲

Y/n let out a quiet laugh as she read Jisung's message. No wonder him and Hyunjin were friends. They had the same easygoing demeanour, the same effortless style of humour.

y/n 🎨: i doubt hyunjin would choose basketball over you, if that makes you feel any better jisung: i wish 😔 he spends a lot of time practicing by himself after school most days jisung: speaking of, did you want his number?

Y/n put her phone down and bit her lip. Would it be weird if she said yes? She didn't want to come across as clingy or overly attached. She typed out a reply.

y/n 🎨: no, it's okay. jisung: you just gonna wait til he gives it to you himself?

Y/n must have paused for a bit too long after reading his message, because Jisung followed up.

jisung: don't sweat it if that's what you were planning to do jisung: he could do with the push

She huffed out a laugh on an exhale and typed back.

y/n 🎨: maybe don't push him too far, he might fall over y/n 🎨: i think he's injured enough... jisung: at least he has you and your bandaid supply to keep him going lol y/n 🎨: yup jisung: super sorry dude but i have to go finish my overdue math homework tonight or my teacher might actually throw me out the window y/n 🎨: who's your math teacher? jisung: mr yang y/n 🎨: we have the same math teacher. i never realised jisung: oh we do, that's dope jisung: we should sit together next class y/n 🎨: sure, if you want y/n 🎨: just curious, but how long is your math homework overdue by? jisung: ... jisung: three and a half weeks y/n 🎨: that's actually crazy y/n 🎨: no wonder mr yang is so stressed all the time jisung: shut up jisung: anyway, we have math tomorrow, so i'll see you then y/n 🎨: okay. see you later, jisung jisung: byeee 👋

Hyunjin slumped down onto the bench, sweaty hair mussing against the wall. His shoes squeaked against the court's polished wooden floor as he stretched out his legs in front of him.

How long had he been practicing for? An hour? Two? A whole day?

The bell that went at the end of the school day felt like it had gone a long time ago. All Hyunjin wanted to do was head home, take his sweaty basketball gear off, shower, and eat something good. Then he would collapse into bed and feel the soft, soft pillow against his cheek...

His phone buzzed. Sighing, Hyunjin reached into his bag and pulled it out. He flicked open the notification bar and saw that he had a new message from Yeji. Groaning, he swiped the chat open.

yeji 🍭: you coming over tonight?

Hyunjin pursed his lips and blew a strand of sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes.

hyunjin: huh? yeji 🍭: for tutoring, silly hyunjin: oh

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't feel like going. He felt exhausted. But Yeji would never let him hear the end of it if he backed out. And it had been a while since they'd talked. He was sort of missing her.

hyunjin: sure hyunjin: give me half an hour yeji 🍭: see you then, jinnie

Hyunjin slurped up a mouthful of ramen, gulping down the noodles and broth. He groaned. Food always tasted better after practice. It tasted even better after he was all cozy and cleaned up.

Yeji had opened the door as soon as he'd knocked. Her parents were often out at night time, since they both worked late office jobs, and she was only too happy to have the house to herself and Hyunjin.

He'd taken a shower at hers and changed into his spare set from his duffel bag before heading into her room. It felt so good to wash off all the sweat and grime he so often collected during intense training sessions. He'd stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it soothe his muscles and relieve the aching.

Walking into her room, Hyunjin noticed she'd set the lighting low and easy on the eyes, gold and pink hues shining out from the lampshade to cast patterns around the room.

Currently, he was sitting on her bed, slurping ramen from an instant noodle cup. Yeji was sitting on her desk chair, deep orange locks tied back messily in a bun, doing the same thing.

Countless times they'd done this. Their parents were close friends and the result of that growing up was a lot of time spent at the other's place. Now, the routine felt comforting and familiar.

It was a little awkward at times, considering they were both older now, but Hyunjin was grateful for her company. What with all the stress and hustle from schoolwork and basketball practice, it felt good to slow down and just relax.

Yeji glanced across at him as he set the empty ramen cup down on her bedside. She chuckled as he flopped back onto her bedspread, almost hitting his head on the wall.

"Careful."

Hyunjin only groaned in response, too exhausted to do anything else.

"Do we have to study?" He managed to get out.

Yeji laughed and set her own cup down, moving to flop down into a beanbag on the floor. The sky outside was dimming in shades of orange and lilac.

"Not if you don't want to. But what happened to wanting to pass the semester, Jinnie?"

Hyunjin sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, gazing at her blearily. "I can do that when I'm not completely exhausted."

Yeji got up and turned the lamp up a little higher before moving to sit next to him. She poked his leg.

"Come on, don't fall asleep."

Hyunjin simply rolled over, turning his back to her. Sure, Yeji could be fake and irritating and more than a bit of a drama queen if she felt like it, but she was Hyunjin's childhood friend. A close confidant, and good company too. Sometimes he wasn't sure what to think of her, but sometimes he liked her a lot too.

He found his heart thudding as she leaned over to poke his cheek. Her airy perfume filled the space between them with a soft, vanilla scent.

She smells so good...

"Jinnie," she said softly. "If you fall asleep here, where am I supposed to sleep? On the floor?"

"In my arms," he murmured, feeling hazy and pleasantly drowsy.

She leaned closer, having not heard what he'd said. "What?"

"Nothing..."

Yeji sighed, lying down behind him and putting her hands behind her head. She stared up at the ceiling, letting her legs dangle off the bed.

"How's basketball?"

"Busy," he whispered in response. "How's dance?"

"Busy."

Hyunjin rolled over, propping his head under his elbow. "Your competition is soon, isn't it?"

Yeji nodded, not taking her eyes off the ceiling. She'd taken her hair out, but there was a little star barrette she'd left in on the right side of her head, near her ear. She must have forgotten about it. Hyunjin could tell she was tired like he was; there were slight bags under her eyes now that she'd removed the concealer from them, and her eyes were drooping shut.

He took a deep breath and reached out to gently unclip the barrette from the locks, his heart pounding so loud it hurt. She didn't move. Hyunjin's eyes flicked to her face and he realised they were shut.

She's asleep, he thought in relief.

Glancing outside, he checked the time on his phone; it was getting late, and he'd be expected to get home soon. He set the star hairclip next to her before reaching out with a shaky hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, light as a feather.

He could stay a little longer.

Through his exhaustion, Hyunjin could feel guilt suddenly nagging at his consciousness. How could he be lying her next to her, crushing on her and touching her hair, knowing what she'd said about Y/n? That she was an outcast, that she was only friends with Y/n out of pity...

It's not like Y/n knows about it, Hyunjin desperately reasoned with himself, fighting against his moral compass.

The little sensible voice in Hyunjin's head spoke up. You know it's not right, Hyunjin. Even if you're close friends with Yeji, it's not worth it to throw Y/n under the bus... right?

Hyunjin grit his teeth. Was he willing to lose Yeji in order to become closer with Y/n? Or would he just mess everything up with Yeji? She was his childhood friend. He'd only known Y/n for just under a month's worth of time.

Hyunjin tugged at his damp hair in agitation.

Do the right thing.

Picking up his duffel, he quietly checked he'd gotten every one of his belongings before heading out the door. His desires fought him every step out of her room. He glanced at her sleeping figure before taking a deep breath and continuing away.

He headed quietly down the stairs, and across the living room, before opening the front door. Confusion, agitation, frustration, and indecision tugged at his heartstrings and settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, like he'd eaten something that had gone bad.

A tear ran down his cheek as he started off down the street.

Hyunjin lifted his head from the pillow as his phone let out a ding, signalling a new notification. Groaning and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, he reached across and glared at the bright screen.

yeji 🍭: hey, where'd you go? yeji 🍭: i woke up and you were gone

Hyunjin sighed and flopped onto his back. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he'd gotten home, but not before having a little cry. He'd never tell any of the boys, but he liked the feeling of crying, the feeling of the weight lifting off his shoulders. He typed out a reply.

hyunjin: sorry, i had to go, i was expected home yeji 🍭: could've left me a note, jinnie yeji 🍭: i thought you would have stayed the night yeji 🍭: it would have been nice, just the two of us hyunjin: what do you mean? hyunjin: i mean i've stayed the night before, but it seems like you're saying something different this time... yeji 🍭: i mean yeji 🍭: you know yeji 🍭: it is different hyunjin: how so? yeji 🍭: you know why it's different, jinnie.

Hyunjin's hands fumbled and he dropped his phone on his forehead at her reply. He winced and rubbed the red spot on his forehead.

She knows. She knows. She knows.

He shoved his phone under his pillow and buried his face in it, trying to erase the whole evening from his mind. Regret washed over him. He should have just denied her 'tutoring' invite and gone home. He could have saved himself all the time and trouble.

And all of the tears.

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stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader) part 2

pairing: best friend!bang chan x reader

summary: after a nasty scare, you talk to felix and hyunjin about what happened. the distance between you and chan grows, until...

genre: angsty angsty, idol!au, mentions of hospital, blood, cuts, bruises, no graphic descriptions, mentions of needles (blood withdrawals), mentions of food and drink, han and jeongin want to be medical professionals, seungmin is far too honest (he loves them really), chan loses his shit, i'm not sorry for the ending :]

a/n: the long-awaited part of 'stupidly perfect'! everyone cheer . div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

skz masterlist | skz prompt list | part one here

The room is cold; it's the kind of cold that you only experience in hospital. That starched-white, stiff, sterilized cold that seems to sink into every fibre of your being, turning it to ice, until all you can do is sink further into the pristine sheets, trying to find some semblance of warmth.

Warmth.

It reminds you of Chan all over again; the pining, the admiring, the restaurant, Chae. Crying in the bathroom. Confessing. The car.

It's been two days since the accident; your cuts and scrapes are beginning to scab over, but you're still not allowed to leave. They woke you in the hospital in a daze, took one look at your battered body, and that was that. One week of staying in hospital, then they'll see what they can do about letting you go home.

You sigh. Turning onto your side with some difficulty, you survey the familiar white blandness of the room.

It's empty enough; the door in the corner has a pane of frosted glass over it, and a couple of switches by the frame. There's a white table and two chairs placed near the wide window, and the monitors surrounding your bed are a sterile light grey, beeping and flashing.

White, white, white.

Huffing and turning to your left to look out the window instead, you find a slightly more interesting sight; raindrops slide down the glass in a constant, heavy drizzle, and you can just make out the tall, surroundings buildings nearby. The sky is grey, and you think then that maybe the world really has lost its colour. It only felt that way at first; now you can't help but wonder if your world is turning to greyscale, void of colour and life and love.

There's a knock on the door and you're sluggishly dragged out of your misery. Pressing a button by your bedside to let whoever it is in, you sit up a little as a nurse enters the room.

"Hello," she says softly. "Feeling any better?"

You shake your head, and try to offer a smile, but it doesn't work.

"Poor you," she replies quietly. "Anything to eat, maybe? A drink of water?"

"No, thank you," you whisper, exhausted.

She nods, adjusting the hem of her ironed top, and then moves to draw the blinds down. Just enough to dim the room slightly and still let you look out the window.

"You have a visitor," the nurse says softly. "Are you feeling well enough to see them, or should I tell them to come some other time?"

You sit up a little straighter then, heart beginning to throb unpleasantly in your chest. "I, um.. Let them in."

She nods and leaves, and you can hear her softly speaking to someone in the corridor. There's a little bit of shuffling, and then a familiar face pokes its nose into the room.

"Felix," you say, relieved.

He shuts the door with far more care than he ought to, and the comical sight makes your heart twinge. You didn't even realise how much you missed him, too caught up in your own head to acknowledge the Felix-shaped hole in your heart.

He drags a chair from the table over to the bedside and flops down, depositing his bag onto the floor. You inhale deeply; a fresh wave of sweet-smelling cologne fills your senses, immediately reinvigorating. The air feels light and tangy.

"How have you been?" Felix says quietly. "Heard it was nasty."

You sit up with some difficulty, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in your joints. "Yeah, I'm okay. I guess. Could've been worse."

Quiet. Then-

"He's torn to pieces about it," he says even quieter. "Chan."

You sigh and look down at your bruised hands, fiddling over the starched sheets. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide down a little against the pillow. "Is- is he okay? Like..."

Felix sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. Leaning back on the chair, he toes his boots off and places his socked feet on the bed, crossing his legs over one another. You crack a tiny smile at the casual gesture.

"He hasn't been talking much," he muses. "Kind of just stays in his room most of the time. He stopped talking to Chae as well. He felt so guilty."

You groan. "I didn't try to make him feel guilty. I just wanted to tell him how I felt all this time... and I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been so upset about what happened at the restaurant."

"I know."

"He didn't have to cut Chae off because of it... I kinda wanted them to stop talking, but I didn't want that to happen..."

"I know."

"And now I messed up and I'm stuck in hospital all cut and bruised because I couldn't fucking look both ways before I crossed the road-"

"I know."

You slap him half-heartedly on the shoulder. "Is that all you're going to say?"

He runs a hand through his dark locks again. "Nah. By the way, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner to see you. I figured you'd want some time to rest and heal."

You sigh. "It's okay. I just- Everything is a mess right now."

"Messes can be cleaned."

You sigh and shift against the uncomfortable firm mattress. "Lix?"

He tilts his head. "Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you came to see me."

Felix is silent. Then, he stands and leans against the glass of the window, looking down thoughtfully to the streets below.

You get out of bed with some difficulty and join him, letting your forehead rest on the cold, cool glass. You're not bothered that he isn't replying to your sentiment; sometimes, people say the most when they speak no words at all.

Both of you are aware that the glass could break at any moment and send you both hurtling to the ground, but you don't move and neither does Felix, still looking down onto the street far, far below.

All you can hear is his soft breathing, the muted sounds of city life rumbling seemingly right under your feet, and the occasional soft footsteps of a nurse outside the door.

"Are you gonna talk to him?" Felix says. "About it all."

It's a vague enough question; strangely, you feel your heart flutter. Talking to Chan after getting out of hospital seems like such a faraway event. Like it's something that you don't need to worry about for the next few years, so distant.

That is not true.

"I'm gonna have to face him at some point," you say, sighing in resignation. "Should I wait for him to find me first? It might be less awkward..."

Felix lets out a little laugh, drawing a circle on the glass with his fingertip. "It's gonna be awkward either way."

You sigh and look down at the streets below. It seems so peaceful up here, yet you can see the faint, faraway tell-tale gathering of dark clouds on the horizon.

He's right.

.

"So," Yuna exhales, pulling your bag inside the door. "Do you want me to pick up anything from the grocery store for you?"

You think about this question as you set your waterbottle down on the counter. It's so good to finally be back home. Yuna, one of your work friends, called and asked if you wanted help getting set up back at home, and you had readily and gratefully agreed.

"Um.. I need more milk and..." You open the fridge, then the pantry, to inspect what needs replacing. "...And some ramen."

Yuna scoffs. "Y/n, you are not living off ramen. You just got out of a week in hospital... do you want to send yourself back in from an MSG overdose?"

You laugh, your healing ribs hurting at the action, and unzip your bag. "Okay, fine. I'll ask Felix if he can spare me anything. The boys said they'd drop off a few things for me too."

She brings you in carefully for a hug, and you wrap your arms around her frame. She smells so nice, and not for the first time do you deeply relish the warmth of someone's arms around your body. There's something about physical affection that is just so comforting.

Especially after so long in hospital.

Felix had dutifully come to visit you every day, each time bringing a couple of the members. It had been a welcome distraction from the fading novelty of being hospitalised and the injuries you sustained, but after Han and Jeongin asked the nurses to have a go at giving you a blood withdrawal, Felix had hurried them out of the room.

Not that they minded.

Then there was Seungmin, coolly making jokes about turning off your life support (you weren't even in intensive care), and Lee Know, who had smuggled Dori into his bag to bring to you.

"Dori will kiss it better," he had said seriously (Dori bit you).

Hyunjin spent most of his time sketching and painting over your bandages; it was a welcome gesture from the stark white you'd gotten so used to seeing in the hospital. Even Changbin had taken time off his busy schedule to see you, often coming into the room fresh from the gym or a dance practice.

But no Chan.

Each time they entered, you'd look up in anticipation and barely veiled hope, but it was always wasted. He never showed. Felix told you they'd been trying to persuade him to come and see you, but Chan had refused and shut down. You were a little disappointed and partially relieved at this revelation.

You glance down at the bandages wrapping your forearms now; not exactly a cast, but not a simple wrap either. It's slightly stiff, and you smile at the multitude of silly signatures and drawings that the members and some of your friends had peppered the surface with.

Looking around your living room and then casting a glass-eyed gaze over the kitchen, you inhale deeply. It feels strange to be here. The place is well-worn, lived in, but it feels like you've walked into someone else's home and stood in the middle of the room. It doesn't feel like you live here at all.

Oh well, you think. Time to get settled.

.

And settle you do; by the time the clock hits seven, you're curled up on the couch with a blanket, a bowl of hot soup (courtesy of Lee Know), and a good tv show.

You've turned the lights off and put the lamps on instead; you swear if you see one more bright light you might literally lose your mind.

The dim, golden glow is comforting; it makes you feel warm, and along with the effects of Lee Know's soup, the fluffy blanket, and the light pitter-patter of rain on the window outside, you begin to feel very sleepy. The show you've put on in the background drones on faintly, and for a moment, you revel in the quiet.

Until the doorbell rings.

You groan and heave yourself up from the couch. Standing up, you pause for a few seconds to see if whoever it is will give up and decide to go away.

They don't. The doorbell rings again.

Yawning, you make your way to the door and unlock it, coming face-to-face with none other than Hwang Hyunjin.

"Hyune," you say, surprised.

"Hey," he grins sheepishly, running a hand through his buzzed hair. "Can I come in?"

You step aside and shut the door as he takes his shoes off, shrugging off his rain-spotted jacket. Wordlessly, you sit back down on the couch and gesture for him to do the same. He does.

"How have you been?" You ask him quietly, trying to drape the blanket over yourself once again.

Hyunjin reaches across and tucks the blanket in for you. "I should be the one asking that, don't you think?"

You shrug.

He sighs, leaning back against the couch, and tucks his socked feet up underneath him. "I'm okay."

"Just okay?"

He shifts uncomfortably, like there's something wrong with his insides. "I, um... Have you talked to Chan yet? Has he talked to you since..."

You shake your head. "Why? Aside from the obvious."

Hyunjin exhales. "He's lost his shit."

"What?"

He sits up a little further, repeating himself. "He's lost his shit. He's just- not himself."

You sigh and relax against the cushions, not knowing what to say. You feel a little bit bad, but your stubbornness tells you that Chan should be the one to reach out again first if he's so upset about it.

You tell Hyunjin that, but he just shakes his head.

"One of you is going to have to take the first step to fix this," he says. "How do you feel about it, though?"

"Considering it was my own fault for not looking both ways, and my fault for setting off the whole thing... it still stings."

He nods understandingly. "I figured you might wanna talk about it a little, if Felix hasn't done that already. That's why I came."

You shake your head. "We talked about it a little, but I guess he was mostly there to distract me."

Hyunjin chuckles. "He's good at it too."

You nod. There's silence.

"So you're in love with Chan," he says finally.

Hearing it being said out loud is strange. Like something surreal floating in the air. Not a truth that you've kept buried for so long. Well, not anymore, at least.

Hyunjin's voice snaps you out of your daze. "Do you still love him? You know, after all of this."

You sigh and cast your gaze on the golden light emitting from a nearby lamp. "I don't know. I guess. But it doesn't matter if he doesn't feel the same way."

"Maybe he does," he says earnestly. His skin is honeyed in the dimness of the room.

"He's far too busy for it anyway," you say. You hate the way it sounds like you're unsure. Like you're trying to convince yourself that you're not in love with your best friend.

Hyunjin seems to pick up on this, because he scoots a little closer, stroking a couple of fingers along your blanketed knee. "Even if he doesn't feel the same way, Y/n, it doesn't mean you can't still work it out. You two were inseparable-"

"Yeah, until Chae came along."

"Was she really the reason?"

You sigh and turn to face him, shifting on the couch. "If he really loved me, he would have made an effort to talk to me despite Chae. Like I did. I did everything I could to see him as often as possible," you sigh. "But he didn't do the same thing."

"Maybe he was too afraid to ruin what you both have," Hyunjin says diplomatically.

You scoff. "Well, he shouldn't have worried, because I ruined it for both of us."

He sighs and touches your hand lightly. "Talk to him. We've been trying to convince him to come and see you-"

"No," you say, panicked. "Don't do that."

"Y/n, just- How are you both supposed to work this out if you keep avoiding each other?"

You groan and lean your head on his shoulder. "I don't know. And I want to fix this, Hyune, but I can't face him and have him tell me he doesn't feel the same way. It's better like this."

"Is is worth losing him to preserve your feelings?"

Silence.

"I don't know," you finally admit, voice quiet.

The lamp flickers.

.

In the morning, you wake up sprawled on the couch, the blanket tucked up neatly under your chin. You glance across at the coffee table; your bowl isn't there anymore, and the TV is off. Hyunjin is gone.

Sitting up, you notice the bowl in the sink, and a small bag of something, probably food, on the counter. Thanking your stars that you have good friends, you stand up and stretch.

Your strength is almost fully replenished, and your cuts and bruises have gone from angry reds and pinks to faded purples and browns. They don't hurt as much anymore, and it's easier to move around, so you decide to get some housework done after eating.

The weather outside is still grey and stormy; it rains hard for the first part of the morning. You've woken up quite late, but the sleep must have done you good, because by the time afternoon hits, you've cleaned up your place quite well.

Your phone buzzes, then again, and again; it's the SKZ groupchat, and you smile at the multitude of welcome-home messages flooding in from the guys. Your cheeks warm.

Hanji Quokka 🔥: WELCOME HOMEE Y/NNNNN Kiwi 🥝: Hope you slept well. Seungie 🐶: Don't do that again. Thought you were gonna die. We all got excited for a minute. Lixie Pixie 💫: SEUNGMIN Strong Guy 🐇: SEUNGMIN Lee Doesn't Know 💟: SEUNGMIN

You roll your eyes and your finger moves to press the button to turn your phone off, fighting a smile. Their affection, however chaotic, makes a twinge of warmth settle comfortably in your stomach.

Your phone buzzes again, and you open your messages to see a text from Hyunjin.

Hyune: Feeling any better? Y/n: Yes. Thank you. For last night as well... I didn't even hear you leave. Hyune: Probably a good thing. I reckon you needed the rest. Y/n: Yeah. Hyune: Can I come over tonight? Y/n: Of course.

You turn your phone off then. It seems a little strange, that he sent you a private text rather than just asking how you were in the group chat. But you shrug it off, and decide to continue cleaning up.

You don't notice how dark it's beginning to get; wiping the minimal sweat from your forehead, you quickly run upstairs to change into a fresh set of clothes and wash up.

Hyunjin said he'd come round the same time as yesterday, so you turn all the lights off and put the lamps on again. You like the honeyed wash it coats everything in, softening all harsh corners and edges and covering them in that familiar, golden glow. Warmth emits from their bulbs.

You're about to plop down on the couch and dissociate for a while, or at least until Hyunjin comes over, but the doorbell interrupts your motions.

Huh. That was quick.

It's raining outside again, you notice as you make your way to the door. The comforting pitter-patter fills your senses as your fingertips touch the cold metal of the door handle.

You undo the latch and pull the door open. You expect to see Hyunjin, drops of water clinging to his jacket, a sheepish grin stretched handsomely across his elegant features.

But it's not.

"Chan," you whisper.

a/n: ohohohooo reader is cooked (i think. i haven't decided what the third part will be about. anyways.)

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby

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

YOUR BACK OMGG YIPPIEEEEE

maybe i never left . . .

Hi Ttokki! 😁 I just wanted to ask if you could possibly write some short scenarios of Stray Kids being protective over their ninth member!maknae!reader? 🙏

Here are some ideas: a staff member is rude/impatient with the reader for no reason; a fan is being weird (getting too close, saying uncomfortable things, asking weird things); the reader receives hate for something stupid (sweating, being "too" comfortable/close with the members, having a scar, acne, whatever); during a variety show, the reader is forced to face a phobia and even almost cries (snakes, spiders, insects, etc); because of some pain or uncomfortable outfit, the reader's vocals are unstable during a performance and people hate on it.

I know there are many ideas... you of course don't need to use them if you don't wanna. Or even do this request at all. 💕 Either way, I hope your life is full of happiness! 🫶

hii !! thank you for the request, anon <3 i think i might make this two parts lol . . . it might have gotten a bit long otherwise . i'll use the rest of your ideas in the maknaes' part . here you gooo~

protective!hyung line skz x maknae!9th member reader

pairing: protective!ot8!skz x maknae!9th member reader

summary: how skz would be protective of their maknae (that's you!)

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, just hyung line being super sweet and protective, chan being intimidating asf, hyunjin being super cheeky but that's just who he is lmao (we love him really)

a/n: divider by @mikeykuns . also taglist is open for anyone who wants to join !

skz masterlist

Chan who firmly chides a staff member who's getting a little too riled up over a small mistake that you made during filming. He picks up the camera stand that you accidentally knocked over and guides you away, a hand on your back. Whispers a little joke to you and tries to make you smile in a bid to make you forget about being told off. Needless to say, that certain staff member seems to disappear when Chan is around you from then on, and you ask him if he did something to make that happen. He just looks away and suddenly changes the subject, and then later on, you notice that the staff member who kept telling you off is suddenly nowhere to be seen. Their belongings are gone from the desk and you're glad to see them gone, and you catch Chan smirking to himself as he shuts their empty office door.

Minho who glowers at a fan who's being just a little too flirty; he's sitting next to you for the fanmeeting, and there's a fluffy headband sitting on the crown of his head. It doesn't stop him from responding effortlessly to him own fan, but his hands tighten around the gifts in front of him as the creepy fan in front of you begins to inch a little closer over the table, reaching for your hands. As the fan doesn't notice his attempts to intimidate, he knocks over a bottle of water, spilling a long, thin stream of it over your side of the table, effectively creating a water line between you and the fan, and making said fan jump back in shock, complaining over soaked sleeves. Minho just winks at you and pokes your knee, muttering a rather vile phrase and making you giggle as the fan storms out.

Changbin who watches you trip over on stage as you walk up to begin your part of the song; your mic clatters to the floor and the entire audience holds their breath as you scramble to pick it up, cheeks scarlet from embarrassment. Your energy is dimmed for the rest of the performance, and you can practically feel the judging, disapproving stares of everyone in the crowd. That is, until you hear another clatter from in front of you, and realise that Changbin has dropped his mic too, leaning down to pick it up with a cheeky grin as he jumps back into place. Your heart rises, the weight lifted off of it as he shoots you a wink, reassuring and reckless. The murmurs get louder but now you couldn't care less, leaning down to whisper a thankyou to him as the choreo brings you closer to him. Later, his face will be proudly tinged with pink as you all walk off the stage.

Hyunjin who quickly changes the subject during an interview that's getting a little too personal, and leans down to put a hand on your shoulder as the interviewer starts getting a little too close. Interjects with loud laughing and funny skits to keep the attention off you, and his gaze is slightly maniacal as he eyes the interviewer, squeezing your shoulder before pulling away so the cameras don't pick it up. Is so smooth with it that you begin to feel more comfortable throughout the interview and you even become confident enough to question the interviewer himself, who stutters and changes the subject. Hyunjin watches on proudly and definitely reports the guy afterwards for harassment, and even sits through a scolding from a staff member about being polite to the reporters and interviewers. He couldn't care less, if he was being honest, and fights a cheeky, rebellious smile as he's dismissed from the room.

a/n: yay first post with my new taglist~ send me a dm, ask, or comment under the taglist post to be added !

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever

cold - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

summary: you had a shit day and jisung helps out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm? Oh, why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll come with you."

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

"You feel better now, huh?"

And he's right. You do feel better.

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

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

You sleep.

a/n: i wish i had a jisung

fever - kim seungmin

pairing: kim seungmin x reader

summary: seungmin's sick and you try to take care of him

genre: fluff, idol! au, descriptions of having an illness (obvs), sick seungmin :(

a/n: everyone say it with me, my fics are yet again... not proofread ! yay ! (no one's surprised)

You shut the apartment door and hurriedly slip your shoes off, depositing your bag on the table and moving through to the hallway. You half-undress as you go, loosening your tie and almost tripping trying to pull one of your socks off. Finally making it to the bedroom, you glance at the bed, hair half-hanging down, your tie and pins a cluttered mess in the palm of your hand.

"Seung?" you say softly.

A muffled groan sounds from under the rumpled duvet. Seungmin's head pops up into view, hair ruffled every which way, and your heart twinges. He must have been tossing and turning for most of the morning.

He sits up with some difficulty, the mattress under the blankets a mess of crumpled tissues. He's taken his hoodie and sweats off, and you can see some of his hair plastered to his nape. Sighing and moving to turn the fan on, you direct it at him in a gentle flow and move to sit on the end of the bed.

You place a hand against his forehead. "You were fine yesterday, hmm? What happened?"

Seungmin groans, clearly not pleased with the prospect of being ill. "Just felt ill this morning, and next thing I know, Chan-hyung is manhandling me out of the studio. And then he told you that I was sick. Such a snitch."

You push his shoulder gently. "Don't get mad at him for caring about your wellbeing. Better to heal now than work while you're sick and end up feeling even worse."

Seungmin groans and flops onto the bed again, his hair mussing even more. You touch his bare chest lightly, reassuring; it's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the skin feels like it's burning.

Probably a good thing Chan told me, you think. He must be feeling really ill if even the fan isn't helping cool him down.

"You're burning up, Seung-"

"I'm sorry I distracted you from work."

His sudden apology comes as a surprise; Seungmin isn't really one to apologise or talk about his feelings much. The sudden admission makes your mouth press into a thin line.

"It's not your fault, okay? You're ill. And I'm glad Chan called me. You must be feeling terrible with a fever like this."

He responds with a muffled whine, burying his head in the sheets. His arm moves to fling itself dramatically over the side of the bed. You chuckle and pat his forearm softly, moving to get up.

"I'll go get the medicine, okay?" you pick up his half-empty waterbottle from the bedside table. "Drink that while you wait, and stop pulling the duvet over your head, it'll only make you feel worse."

A high-pitched, mimicking, whiny lilt comes from under the covers, and you punch the sheets lightly, not enough to cause any damage, but still making Seungmin yelp. A smirk makes its way onto your face.

"You're well enough to make fun of me, so I should just leave, then-"

"No- wait.."

You chuckle and pat the duvet, pulling it down to reveal his sweaty, flushed face. You stand and begin moving towards the door, intending to go fetch medicine and a snack for him.

"Give me a minute. I'll be right back, okay?"

a/n: this is so rushed i'm sorry

obsessed with noona!9th member reader :0 what if she gets harrassed by a stage invader during a show and end up tearing a calf muscle or something and cant join the boys in performing for a while?

okay damn shit calm down why is this so intense TT . . . interesting request, my anon !! however, ask and you shall receive <3

will i be okay? - ot8!skz x injured!9th member reader

pairing: ot8!skz x injured!9th member reader

summary: when a stage invader injures you in the middle of a performance, skz help you build yourself back up, little by little.

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, mentions of blood, wounds, bruises, fainting, general medical procedures, mentions of eating and drinking, soft skz all the way :(

a/n: omg it's been so long since i wrote . . . did yall miss me . . . (silence)

skz masterlist

You never saw it coming.

One minute, you were singing the chorus of 'Walking on Water', scrunching your nose and throwing a hand at the audience in passion, and the next, you were thrown face down to the stage floor, feeling the metallic clatter of your mic dully hitting the side of your face.

A throb in your shoulder, the wet feeling of something sliding down your skin. The sickly tang of iron in your mouth, and the incredibly sharp, stabbing pain in your calf.

"Y/n!" the fans had screamed in panic, unheard by you. "Watch out!"

There were screams; several yells, a confused start from one of the members who was singing, and the audience had gone quiet, dissolving into hushed murmurs and worried whispers.

It was Minho who first rushed to your side, almost tipping himself over as he pushed back the strange, dark-haired man who threw a half-hearted kick at your side.

You heard swearing; low and dark, a musty smell coming over your senses, and then the buzz of security as they manhandled the stage invader into the dark wings off the sides of the platform.

Dizzy.

You felt hands; worried hands brushing over your form, the latex gloves of the medical staff, Chan's strained reassurances in your ear as he scanned the stage for any other threats. Vision blurry, you turned your head to the side and saw the boys clustered in a group, Hyunjin and Seungmin calling out to the fans with their hands out, trying to calm them down.

Something wet swiped across the side of your face, cold and dripping against the clammy, salty heat of your cheeks. Shaking, you raised fingers to your face, brushing them lightly against your skin. It felt numb; your fingertips came away as scarlet as the lip gloss you'd put on earlier before the show.

Chan's voice broke through the haze, low and steady. "Breathe, Y/n, you'll be okay. We've got you, you're safe, yeah?"

Then, black.

.

"Ow- fuck-"

"Almost there," Lia, the JYPE company nurse, cooed at you gently as she pressed a new gauze pad to the wound on your shoulder. "Y/n, you really need to be more careful. It won't heal properly if you keep trying to push yourself before the wound is scabbed over..."

"I wonder how that happened," Minho remarks dryly from the door, hair messy, leaning against the frame. He watches as Lia disposes of bloody tissues in the bin. "Surely it can't be because of a certain Stray Kids member attempting to do a late-night practice on her own."

You scowl. "Shut up."

Felix interjects with a sigh, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "It won't be a long time, noona. Just until it's healed. You need the rest..."

"I'm fine," you insist, standing up and trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "I'm going back to the studio-"

"No, you're not," Minho says firmly. "You're going back to the dorm to rest. You're not leaving until Chan-hyung and I say you're allowed to."

You're about to shoot back in irritation, stubbornly refusing to listen, until your eyes catch Lia's. She gives you a look.

You groan. "Fine."

.

"I brought you tea," Changbin says quietly from your bedroom door. "Thought it might help."

You sit up as he walks in, and you take the steaming cup from him gratefully. It's soothing, the heat seeping through the porcelain and warming the frozen bones in your fingers.

Your eyes meet his as Changbin sits down on the edge of the bed, running his fingers over the duvet. The purple lights above your headboard bathe him in a soft, violet glow, and part of you feels bad for keeping him up this late.

You feel bad for waking Hyunjin, too. Not that he seemed to mind; he'd just gently chided you as Minho led you back to your dorm with a firm hand on your shoulder, and ruffled your hair as Changbin had helped you settle into bed.

You can hear him clattering about in the kitchen, no doubt searching for a late-night snack. Changbin is clearly used to the noise, because he doesn't blink as Hyunjin swears from the kitchen, whining about not being able to find his chips.

You take a sip of the tea; it's slightly minty, cooling you down even though the liquid is hot. It makes you immediately sleepy, warmth flooding your body and replacing the dull feeling that's been settling itself in your gut for the past few days.

Changbin's eyes flick to yours as you set the cup down on the beside with a clink.

"Tired?" He says softly. His hair is rumpled with sleep.

You shift on the bed, sliding down the pillow. "It's uncomfortable to sleep. I have to keep my leg up all the time."

"It'll be easier once you find the right position," he replies, picking up a pillow from the floor. "Here."

You take it from him and prop your leg up, nestling into the sheets. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Not at all. I don't think Hyun minded either. Speaking of, did you want something to eat?"

You shake your head quietly, downcast. If Changbin notices, he doesn't say anything, and he gently kisses your crown before closing the bedroom door softly behind himself.

You gnaw at the inside of your cheek. You feel even worse than before you'd tried to sneak out and practice alone. It was just so inconvenient; being harassed by a stage invader in the middle of a performance you'd worked so hard for, and you hadn't even been able to finish it.

Part of you wishes it had been one of the boys who'd gotten hurt. But that thought scares you more than the fact that you're injured, so you chase it out of your head and try to rest.

You fall asleep with the pillow soaked in tears.

.

"And one- Switch, Jisung to the back, Felix's part, and here, we go-"

Minho's voice rings out loud and clear as he shouts instructions to the members, music blaring out over his tone. You watch in amazement from the side of the studio floor, knees tucked to your chest.

It's common practice for him to shout moves and parts to the boys and you during practices, but the fact that he's dancing effortlessly at the same time makes your jaw drop a little. You can't believe it never occurred to you earlier, the level of breath control and strength he possesses.

He's amazing.

So are the rest of them.

It's been an hour, and none of them show any sign of slowing down. It doesn't matter who you look at, or when; all of them are dancing at full power, giving the routine and song their all, from Jeongin, whose vocals are stable even though he's constantly moving, and Hyunjin, who executes his switch to the back without missing a beat.

Part of you is glad to be able to sit back and watch; the feeling of pride sits in your chest like a warm, happy bubble, especially as your gaze meets the younger members' forms. You can't believe how far they've come.

But something about the way they glance at each other, even slapping each other's butts as they move past and grinning at each other in the mirror between moves tugs sadly at your heart.

You want to be a part of that again.

It's been two weeks, and Chan and Minho still aren't letting up. Neither is your manager, or JYP, no matter how much you nagged at him. Any of them. Lia was also in strong agreement that you rest more, but you've had enough. You want to get up and dance. Sing. Perform with your group members.

You scratch lightly at the sticky bandage on your shoulder. It hasn't come off yet, a miracle, and you sigh as you roll it back and forth, trying to alleviate the sensory feeling of it stuck to your skin. Hopefully you won't end up with a square of skin lighter than the surrounding tanned area once the bandage comes off.

You turn your leg from side to side, flexing the calf muscle gently. It only aches a little, the painful, sharp throb from the first impact a distant memory.

But not any less painful.

"Hey," you hear Chan's voice next to you. "Feeling any better?"

"Fine," you say bitterly, looking away. He's sweaty, the faded scent of cologne and musk washing over you in a soft, familiar wave. He flicks open the top of his electrolyte drink, leaning against the wall behind both of you.

He doesn't seem too upset by your harsh tone; taking a swig of blue liquid and then setting the bottle down, he turns to you. "I know it's hard, Y/nnie-"

"You don't get it, Chan," you snap at him suddenly, upset anger bubbling in your stomach unexpectedly. "You can perform and dance and sing and do everything properly while I'm stuck here, unable to even get up without someone fussing over me. I'm fine, okay? I want to join practices and performances again. I'm sick of this. All of it."

He doesn't blink, eyes softening. And suddenly, as quickly as it appeared, the intense emotion evaporates. It's replaced by the hot, wet feeling of tears sliding down your cheeks.

A calloused thumb reaches out and brushes them away. "I'm sorry, Y/n. It's awful not being able to perform. Trust me, I know." He turns to face you. "But if you keep trying to push yourself before you're healed, the time you have away from activities will only increase."

You sniff. He's right.

"It's just not fair," you whisper.

"No, it's not," Jisung says, sitting down next to you. Like Chan, he's sweaty, and you fight the sad, watery urge to smile as you spot a hint of last night's sparkly stage eyeshadow still smeared across his lids. "But we'd rather you rest safely than go out there injured, and risk getting hurt again, okay? We care about you."

"It's not as fun," Chan admits quietly. "On stage. We miss you. So do the fans. They've been ranting about the stage invader left and right. We're all here to support you, okay?"

You nod and wipe a hand across your eyes. "When can I get back to schedules?"

By now, the rest of the members have come and flopped down near you. You run a hand through Jeongin's damp hair as Seungmin toys with the clip on your leg bandage.

"You're gonna be okay, noona," Felix says softly, leaning his head on Hyunjin's shoulder.

The rest of the members nod eagerly and interject with their own reassurances, and it's all you can do not to cry. You sniff and Chan's hand covers yours in a warm flood of heat.

"Hey," Minho says dryly. "At least you don't have to slave away at the choreography like the rest of us-"

Chan clears his throat. "Minho."

He grins as the rest of the members and you dissolve into giggles.

a/n: i have an exam tomorrow . . .

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hellooo, can i request a felix x fem!dating!reader where felix finds a used pregnancy test in the trash can, and freaks because it said positive and thought it was the readers? turns out its not, it was her friends, but he was super stressed and sad the he wasn’t told that ‘he was going to have a child’?(around comeback since that kinda fits in)

this was so cute :( writing sad felix almost broke my heart fr but we pushed through . . . here you goooo~

floral tea - lee felix x reader

pairing: lee felix reader

summary: when felix finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom bin, a few misunderstandings follow...

genre: sad confused felix, non-idol!au, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, piss (i promise it's one word lol i'm not sus like that), mentions of injury, blood, lots of tears from felix aww :(

a/n: divider by @g0ds-f4v-svp3rn0v4

skz masterlist

"Y/n, hey!"

You let out an excited squeal as you open the door, embracing Jiseo. It's been so long since you saw her; the last time you did, she was busy travelling for her career.

Her familiar warmth surrounds you like a fluffy blanket as you hug, and her sweet perfume lingers lightly in the summer air. No greater is the joy of meeting an old friend, and that too, completely on an unexpected whim.

"Come in," you say almost shakily from joy, cheeks flushed from the surprise.

She laughs and steps in. You switch on the kettle and sit down to talk with her as steam fills the kitchen. You sit and talk for what feels like hours, reminiscing and gossiping about almost everything. It's so good to see her again, and as a surprise, too...

You're just about to gratefully verbalize this to her when she places a hand over yours, leaning in a little.

"By the way, um, I kinda have something to tell you," she says, a little nervously, but still smiling.

You grin. "What is it?"

Jiseo laughs, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind it. "I, um- Y/n, I think I might be pregnant."

You spit out a mouthful of tea, spluttering ungracefully and splashing the table in floral essence. "What?!"

She nods, unfazed by your rather disgusting reaction. "Yeah, it- kinda just happened, you know?"

You lean forward, almost knocking over your mug, eyes so wide you're sure you look like an owl. "Do you know for sure?"

She shakes her head a little bashfully. "I don't really know... I just came here to you, because if I was going to find out, I wanted you to be with me... s-something like that anyway..."

You can't help the warm bubble that sits in your chest; Jiseo has always been so direct yet so shy at the same time. Her sentiment makes your cheeks tinge with colour as you squeeze her hand. She's probably terrified, poor thing.

"I have pregnancy tests upstairs, if you want to use one," you say, smiling gently. Her hands are clammy.

She exhales shakily. "W-would that be okay? Like, not an invasion of privacy, or-"

"Jiseo," you interrupt, chuckling. "It's okay. I promise, whether it's positive or not, I'll always be here for you. Now, go piss on that stick."

She laughs and gets up.

.

You carefully brew another cup of tea as a smile ghosts the corners of your mouth. Inhaling the scent of your second cup of goodness, you sit down in your previous spot and let your fingers skate over the smooth wooden table.

You can't believe Jiseo is pregnant. You couldn't be happier for her.

She left around an hour ago, after around two hours of excited screaming, cheering, and tears from the both of you. She had been terrified, but you spent so long reassuring her, and she'd gone home after disposing of the pregnancy test, in order to catch her breath before her lover came home. You wonder how they would react; they're a good person, and you hope that Jiseo feels supported and cared for throughout the whole process. You have no doubt that her and her partner are probably jumping for joy in the comfort of their own little home right now, and it makes you smile further.

You can faintly hear Felix coming through the front door now; there's the familiar, faint thuds as he kicks off his shoes and puts them to the side.

He comes into the kitchen, sunlight spilling across his frame, and you tilt your head to kiss him as he leans down to you in your chair.

"Hey, sunshine," he murmurs, stroking your hair.

"Hi. How was your day, hmm?"

He sighs and tugs off his tie. "Yeah, busy. Not too bad, though. I'm gonna get changed and then we can make dinner together?"

You nod and smile.

There's a brief moment of silence as Felix shuffles upstairs, his footsteps receding as he shuts the bathroom door. You sit and stare placidly out the window, absentmindedly sipping the cooling tea and absorbing the fading warmth of the mug.

All is quiet.

That is, until a blonde-haired tornado falls down the stairs and stumbles over to you, shirt askew and hair ruffled. You jump with a start and turn to him, about to ask what the matter is, but you're caught up short when you notice the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Love," he gasps, a borderline sob almost escaping. "What is this?"

He holds up a short, white stick and you squint, realising what it is.

Jiseo's pregnancy test.

She must have thrown it away afterwards in the bathroom bin.

You get up, holding out your hands, trying to calm Felix down and explain. "Sunshine, I-"

"No," he gasps. "No, you knew and you didn't tell me? You just threw the fucking test away- love, are you serious? Why would you do this? You didn't even think to call me when you found out you were gonna have a child? Our child?"

"Felix-"

The tears actually spill out of his eyes then, and a guilty look sets itself uncomfortably across his face. "But I swear, we were so careful- How could this happen, I didn't even know because you didn't even think to tell me you were going to eventually fucking give birth-"

"Felix!" You cry. "It's not mine, okay? Calm down."

He stops short, stuttering, tears still streaming down his cheeks in shock and distress. "What?"

You almost laugh, but then remember it might upset him further. He's still confused, after all, and he splutters further.

"W-what do you mean, it's not yours? Do you realise how bad that sounds? Wait, do you mean that the child isn't yours, or the test-"

"For goodness' sake, Felix, the test isn't mine," you say, exasperated as you tug him into a chair with some difficulty. His shirt slips off his collarbone, revealing the freckled, sun-kissed skin underneath. "One of my old friends showed up earlier and she took the test, because she had a hunch she might be pregnant. She must have thrown it away before leaving.."

He's silent for a moment, processing, and then he bursts into tears, upon which you just stare at him, utterly confused. Taking him into a hug, you let him rest his head against your stomach.

It's almost like he just got the news that he's pregnant, you think wryly. This is exactly how Jiseo reacted.

"Lix, honey," you say, a little softer. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," his muffled voice comes from your stomach. You can faintly feel tears soaking the fabric of your top. "I was so stressed, I thought we were gonna have a child, and around comeback season too, I was so scared trying to figure out how we were gonna manage it all-"

You shush and coo at him gently, stroking his ruffled hair, askew in all directions. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He shakes his head, his voice sounding faraway from where he's plowed his face into your middle. "I was worried for you too..."

You fight the warm feeling rising in your chest at his sincerity. He's never afraid to tell you how he feels, your Felix. You do feel bad for not realising Jiseo threw her test away and resultingly scaring the shit out of your lover, but you're glad that he cares enough to be upset about it.

Even if he was wrong.

You let your gaze wander down to where his hair is mussed against your shirt, and you can't help but notice the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around your waist, like he's afraid you'll float away if he lets go. You notice a small gash on his arm, the crimson startling against his pale, freckled skin.

You hum as he lifts his face, tear-streaked and swollen. "What'd you do to your arm?"

He sniffs. "I hit it on the doorway when I came down the stairs... I didn't even feel it."

You sigh, stroking the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck. "What am I gonna do with you, hmm?"

"Love me."

You chuckle. "Let's get you patched up."

a/n: listening to zero o'clock by bts while writing this and why does it fit so well . . . ttokki is sad now

HIII MY LOVE

i was just wondering if you could do something with a foreigner!reader, who doesn’t speak korean, with han?? where they have a hard time communicating but they still wanna be together??

(btw if you have anons can i be 🪻??)

hi, love~ this was so cute, really interesting to write . this took a while but it was so worth it hehe . yes you can, my first emoji anon yayy . here you go~~

i want to understand you - (han jisung x female!reader)

pairing: idol!han jisung x female!reader

summary: the language barrier between you and jisung stops your true feelings from being communicated.

genre: angsty but happy ending, idol!au, reader is a stylist, mentions of injuries, blood, cuts, bandages, antiseptics, broken glass, jisung doesn't like being injured, chan's iconic smirk comeback, hints to chanlix and minsung, mentions of wrestling, kissing, nothing too intense i promise

a/n: this is one of my fav fics that i've written tbh . everything in bold + italic is spoken in korean. just a note !

skz masterlist

"How long have you been watching him?" Felix whispers into your ear.

"Huh?"

He smirks, nodding his head towards Jisung, who's currently messing about on set with Minho. "You've been watching him."

You scoff and push him away. "No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

Groaning, you brush past Felix and wander past the cameras to the other side of the MV set. It's almost midday; the sun beats down relentlessly on the pavements outside, bathing everything in a bright glow, but inside the warehouse, the lights are dimmed in shades of red, green and white, casting an eerie palette over the broken glass and haphazard items scattered about the dusty floor.

Your eyes wander to one of the camera tripods; 'ESCAPE FILMING' is written on a piece of masking tape and stuck to the side. Your gaze flits to Chan and Hyunjin; both of them are raggedy, slender figures in heavy coats and coarse clothing. They're busy talking to their manager; you duck off to the side and run straight into Felix again.

You groan. "Go away."

"Come on," he murmurs. "Go talk to him."

It's been almost a month since you took the job as a stylist with JYPE; it had been interesting, to say the least. The members took to you immediately, teasing and friendly within a couple of days. You were in awe; they were such professionals you'd been assigned to work around, but one of them had caught your eye.

Jisung.

You feel your cheeks warm as you watch him; Felix is motionless beside you, no doubt smirking, but your heart sinks as you hear the distant lilt of excitable Korean floating over the set to your ears.

"Y/n, go," Felix insists. "Talk to him."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" You whip around to face him. "I don't speak Korean, and he doesn't know enough English to be fluent in a conversation with me."

"He sings in English," Felix points out, adjusting the cuff of his hoodie. His black cap- Chan's cap- sits low on his head.

"That's because he has you and Chan to help him." You groan.

This would be so much easier if the rest of the members weren't here. You wonder what they're here for, anyway; they said they came to support Chan and Hyunjin while they filmed their music video, but you have a sneaking suspicion it was just to get out of an extra dance practice Chan scheduled for the remaining members while he was away. No doubt the maknaes' idea.

You'd fought to stay focused on doing Hyunjin's makeup that same morning; he hadn't missed the way your hand shook around your eyeshadow brush when Jisung had breezed in with a cheerful shout. If Hyunjin had noticed, he hadn't said anything, and the resulting makeup look had thankfully turned out just fine.

"Y/n."

You whip around so fast your neck hurts, and you almost trip over your own feet as you come face-to-face with Jisung. He's dressed casually, as most of the members are; his grey zip hoodie is slightly dusty, loose black jeans showing a peek of startingly white shoes beneath their hems.

His face is bare, void of makeup, and you can see the healthy pink flush on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. His lashes blink away strands of un-styled, dark hair falling into his face; he sweeps it back effortlessly with two fingers, and his wide eyes fix themselves onto your own, a cheerful grin painting his lips.

You look around wildly for Felix to save you; he's conveniently disappeared into thin air, and you curse inwardly as you're forced to face Jisung once more. There's nowhere to run.

"Hi." Your voice sounds thin and awkward.

"Hi." He replies, an equally awkward but adorable smile curving his mouth further. Even the simple syllable sounds odd and unfamiliar to him, it seems. Tinged with his accent, the sound coming out of his mouth looks like he tasted something unusual; new and curious, but strange.

Foreign.

You stutter, unable to comprise a singular sentence. Even if you were able to at the moment, it's unlikely Jisung will understand. The past few interactions with him have shown you that.

You try anyway. "Did you need something?"

He blinks. Takes apart each word in his mind, turns his cognitive gears, and a dawning sense of confusion appears on his face despite the effort to understand. "Chan-hyung ruined his makeup again. He's busy with his outfit, but he sent me to ask you if you could quickly touch it up for him? If you're not busy..."

You're running, sprinting even, to keep up with Jisung's rapid pace of speaking. Korean tumbles out of his mouth in a smooth waterfall, each word naturally clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle.

For you, though, it's like looking at the completed picture upside down. It just doesn't make sense, and you can't tell what's he's asking by his tone like you have before.

"Chan?" You say, questioning. It was the only word you caught.

He nods once, then faster. "His makeup." He points to his leader, a distance away, who is redoing his belt and pulling on his coarse jacket for the next scene.

Jisung points to Chan again, then to his own face. He points to the crossbody bag across your waist, full of your stylist tools, and mimes swiping a brush across his cheeks.

"Oh," you say. "His makeup?"

Jisung nods frantically. You fight a smile; makeup and snacks are the only English words he seems to understand at the moment. Couldn't say you wouldn't have been the same way.

You nod once to him and awkwardly brush past him to go to Chan.

Jisung watches you go.

Chan turns round as you approach, bowing sheepishly as you pull several brushes and a chrome palette from your bag.

"Sorry for ruining it," he says as he closes his eyes. You chuckle and redo the look with a few simple strokes, and step back to make sure it's neat. You swipe a pinky across his cheekbone to remove any excess. "I saw you and Jisung talking."

You sigh. "Wasn't really talking. More..."

"Confusion?" Chan offers with a smile.

You poke him in the side and he shies away, grinning. "How long were you watching us?"

He shrugs casually, looking away. "The whole time."

You groan, cheeks flushing as he laughs. "I wish I could speak Korean fluently... Learning it takes so long, and there aren't any translating apps I can use on a day-to-day basis."

Chan does look at you then, expression empathetic. "I know it's inconvenient, Y/n, but you're making progress. Just keep at it, and while you and Jisung are both learning each other's languages, it'll become easier to communicate over time."

You look towards Jisung, who's currently reenacting the wrestling scene with Seungmin. Rapid, unfamiliar words tumble from the members' mouths at the speed of light as they laugh and clap, and you smile as Jisung emerges from underneath Seungmin with his dark hair covered in feathers.

You sigh. "I hope so."

Chan sighs, touching your shoulder in reassurance. Looking past you, he gazes fondly over the seven members, unaware of you both watching them, and chuckles. "I thought Hyunjin and I were gonna get this music video filming done fast, but... apparently not."

You smile. "I don't think they were too fond of having to do extra practice while you were away."

Chan rolls his eyes and you laugh as he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further. There's a yelp from behind you, and Chan whips around, faster than lightning. The members have gone silent.

You're both just in time to see Jisung fall off the mattress. His hand scrapes awkwardly along the floor, where tiny fragments of glass from the stunt filming earlier scatter throughout the dust. A deep red line opens up along his forearm, and Chan swears before dashing to his side.

You come up behind Felix, calling to one of the crew members to find a tissue and water as Chan sits Jisung down properly on the mattress, brushing aside feathers.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks in worry, cradling his member's hand.

Jisung winces as a wet rivulet of blood drops onto the floor. The rest of the boys burst into concerned murmurs, jostling to see. You push past Minho with a pack of tissues, handing them to Chan. Cracking open the top of a water bottle, you dampen the centre of a folded piece of tissue and dab it gently along Jisung's forearm. He groans and attempts to pull away, but his leader holds his arm firmly, murmuring reassurance.

"There's a spare room down one of the warehouse corridors," you say to Chan. "I went there earlier to set my things up. There's a first aid kit in there."

"Is there no one on set with one already?" He says, strained. You bite your lip and look to the crew, who all look away, seemingly distracted.

Chan actually growls then, making you recoil, and mutters something that might have either been a string of expletives or a complaint about crew disorganisation.

You suppose his reaction is justified either way.

Folding the water-damp, bloodied tissue, you tuck it into your pocket and stand up. "I can take him to the room there and clean the cut," you offer. "Might be easier without all the glass around."

Chan nods, holding a hand to Jisung to stand up. "I can come with both of you-"

"No," you say firmly. "Focus on filming with Hyunjin. It's getting late and I know both of you want to be done with it. I'll take care of him."

Chan bites his lip in anxiety, clearly struggling to make the decision between staying on set and going with Jisung, but Hyunjin puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get the rest of the shots done, Chan-hyung," he says. "Y/n is more than capable of taking care of the injury."

You blink, not understanding, but it seems to be enough to reassure Chan, who nods and turns away. Hyunjin follows him, and the rest of the members meekly disperse behind the cameras, far quieter than before.

You wind between crew members and filming equipment before heading down the main back corridor of the warehouse, where a spare room splits off into four smaller rooms down the way. Heading into the second door on the right, you hold the door open for Jisung before pulling out the first aid kit from a duffel bag.

You point to a chair as he closes the door. The metal of the knob is scarlet as he lets go. "Sit."

He sits and you place the kit on the cabinet, unzipping a pouch and pulling out a bandage, an antiseptic wipe, and another pack of tissues. Trying to ignore your hands shaking as you do so, you feel your cheeks warm as Jisung shuffles on the chair, a muffled disturbance in the sudden stillness of the room.

You're alone with him.

Biting your lip in an all-too-aware consciousness of the situation, you pull a chair to sit next to him, setting down the items on the plastic table. He rests his arm on the surface as you rip open the antiseptic packet, and then pause.

Gingerly, you place a light hand on his wrist and pull his forearm closer to you, beginning to gently swipe the wet wipe across the cut. A faint smell of chemical rises in the air, and Jisung discreetly exhales, making you crack a tiny smile.

His forearm is tense; you can see the stress of the situation, visible in his body language. The wipe clearly stings him, becoming redder by the minute. He lets out a tiny start, obviously fighting to keep quiet.

You can see him beginning to squirm, his bottom lip caught flush between his teeth as he chews on it in distress.

"Jisung," you say softly, pausing the cleaning to give him a break. "It's okay. You're doing well."

He doesn't respond, focused on the wound. Then, taking a deep breath, his wide eyes meet yours and he gives a tiny nod, signalling for you to continue.

You've cleaned about half of the injury's surrounding area; feeling unbelievably bold, you stroke a gentle thumb across the inside of his wrist as you swipe scarlet off his bare skin, attempting to calm him. He relaxes suddenly, and the exhale of a deeply-held breath fans lightly across your face, stirring your hair. It does nothing to cool the tension building between the both of you.

You fumble to stuff the used, damp wipe back into the packet. Jisung's eyes follow you intently; he seems to have recovered from the initial shock of injury.

He watches curiously as you tilt your head to the side, inspecting the cut, before unravelling a length of a clean rolled bandage. You lay it flat on the clean table before unwrapping four sheets of fluffy gauze, laying it on top. You undo the top off of a small tube of ointment.

"What's that?" He says.

There's a clear question in his tone; taking a wild guess, you hold up the tube. He nods.

"This? Ointment. It's to keep the wound moist," you reply. You're not sure why you bothered; he doesn't understand it anyway, and he just nods politely before continuing to gaze at the tube, most likely attempting to piece its use together in his head.

You let out a tiny sigh, almost fuming at the inconvenience of it all. You want to talk to him, understand him. But you keep quiet, clamp it down, and continue to smear the cream gently across the wound edges with a finger.

He's no longer watching the application of the cream, though; his gaze is fixed intently on your face, as if he's trying to see through you to the other side of the room. You know he's watching; you can feel his eyes burning into you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to keep composure.

"Y/n," he says softly.

You gulp and look up, pausing your ministrations. He tilts his head to the side, a strange look taking over his features. It's no secret to either of you that you can't understand the other; it seemed to you that Jisung was just never as bothered by the language barrier as you were.

Apparently not.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he says simply. Taking a deep breath, he hopes inwardly that you haven't learnt too much Korean yet, and continues to talk. "I wish I could speak more English, enough for us to communicate. I'm sorry I never told you that before. I know it makes you sad."

Silence.

"I don't know what you're saying," you murmur softly, a look of longing and resignation taking over your expression.

"I don't understand you."

You lean one hand under your head. "I wish we could communicate."

"I wish we could talk properly... This is so frustrating."

Sighing and giving up completely, you tap his wrist, and he brings it closer to you so you can wrap the injury. Delicately placing the gauze sheets along the cut, you begin to firmly wrap the bandage around his forearm, taking care not to cut off his circulation in the process. Securing the bandage with a clip, you stand and begin to dispose of the packets and tissues.

Jisung stands too, unsure, like he's waiting for direction. He opens his mouth to say something, but your thoughts are beginning to run away with you, and you speak them aloud before he has a chance to say anything.

"I wonder what things would have been like if we both spoke the same language." You throw the packets in the bin.

Jisung seems to be lost in his own thoughts too. "Maybe I could ask one of my hyungs to teach me English... or Hyunjin! He knows English too! He might be able to help..."

Yet again, the names of one of his members is the only word you can recognise amongst his rapid-fire speech.

"Hyunjin?" You say. "What about him? Did- should I go get him?" You groan in exasperation and throw your hands out, knocking the ointment off the cabinet from where you've just set it down. "What are you asking for?"

"Sorry, I don't know what you're upset about, but maybe I can ask Chan-hyung and Hyunjin for advice on what to do... Unless you've already talked to them..."

"I bet you'd sound so different talking in English," you're beginning to fume, and you feel bad, because none of this is Jisung's fault. He's Korean, he speaks it, so why are you getting so upset about not being able to communicate through the same language?

Both of you are practically talking to yourselves now; Jisung is clearly lost on another planet, seemingly recovered from the injury. You're beginning to feel yourself sink, no longer nervous around him. Now, you just feel a desperate longing.

To talk. Actually talk.

"Changbin-hyung told me that you don't speak much Korean, but maybe I could teach you? Ah, that wouldn't work, because I'd have to teach you in English first..."

You bite your lip. A dangerous thought crosses your conscience; you could just tell him. About how you feel. He might not even know what you're talking about. He probably won't.

Hopefully.

You decide to risk it. Even if he does understand, you can easily play it off as a translating mistake on his part. No worries.

"Jisung," you say cautiously.

He snaps out of his endless train of thought, and locks his gaze with yours. Like a soldier called to attention.

"Y/n," he says cheekily, though you can see his confident demeanour faltering.

"I really want to be able to talk with you," you continue. "Properly. But maybe it's a good thing we can't understand each other. I can say I love you without you understanding... Gosh, Hyunjin would have a field day making fun of us idiots. Not being able to communicate..."

Jisung blinks. Once. Twice. You see the flutter of his lashes, the cogs turning in his head, and then, very hesitantly, he steps closer. Like you're a wild animal he's trying not to spook.

You take a step back. He takes another forward.

So you step back again. Your back hits the cabinet.

Shit.

Jisung cocks his head; he looks exactly like his quokka counterpart. You blink as he frowns suddenly, then presses his hands together, slipping his fingers in a pattern over the newly wrapped bandage on his forearm.

Around and around and around. And then-

"You love Hyunjin?" Even without understanding, his tone is incredulous. Disbelieving.

"What about Hyunjin?" You say in confusion. "Clearly I've done something wrong, as your tone is telling me, but what does he have to do with it?"

Jisung groans, frustrated. "All this time. I was so happy you came to help me... I thought there might have been something between you and me, but you were just being helpful. Hyunjin, of all people."

You huff. "You keep saying 'Hyunjin' and yet, I still have no idea what you're saying."

Jisung scoffs. "Okay, relax! You don't need to keep talking about how much you love him! I get it... Damn, I'm stupid."

"...Well, you stopped saying his name, but I still don't know what you're talking about, Jisung."

"I wish I could understand you, Y/n."

"I wish you loved me."

"I want to know you. I would never let anyone hurt you, ever... But clearly, I'm not fit for it... I can't even put together a sentence in your language. How am I supposed to love you when I can't even do that?"

Your voices are rising at this point, swelling to fit the room. They mix in the air and rain down in shards, sparkling shards of glass that seem to hurt more than Jisung's forearm injury did.

Every glittering remnant makes your eyes sting until you feel a salty wetness coating your cheeks. The frustration is spilling out of you, the unfairness and utter inconvenience of it all drowning you in tumultuous, crashing waves until you are swept under the dark, powerful current, falling and falling and clawing upwards to air, to breathe, to him, but it doesn't work.

"Why can't things just be easy for once?" You cry out at him. He jolts, taken aback. "I just want to love someone, and here you are, yet I can't even tell you that I love you. I love you, Jisung, and you'll never, ever understand, and it's all my fault because I don't know any Korean enough to talk to you."

He's frozen. Pale as a ghost. And then the colour rises so fast to his face that you step forward, afraid that he might collapse or pass out or experience some other type of wildly unexpected medical occurrence that would probably make your current situation even more upsetting than it already is. If that's even possible.

"Me?" He says. His voice is shaky, strained. "You love me? Not Hyunjin?"

"Fuck, Jisung, this has nothing to do with Hyunjin. Forget about him, I'm talking about you. You might as well know since we can't fucking communicate. Do you even know what I just said, or do I just sound like an angry chicken?"

A look of understanding begins to dawn incredibly slowly on his face. He points to himself, in disbelief but still rather unsure about what you're saying. "Me?"

"Yes, you, you absolute idiot. Shit."

Jisung looks at his hands, then points to himself. He cups his hands and shakily rearranges his fingers, making a comical depiction of a heart. "You?"

"That is the most shit heart I've ever seen you make," you huff. You point to yourself, dramatically enunciating as if he was a child unable to understand anything more than the colour of the sky.

"I." You jab a finger repetitively into your chest.

"Love.." You make a heart, bending your index fingers and pushing your hands towards him. Like he could just take your love the way something might take a glass of water offered to them.

"You," you stab a finger in the air again and again, pointing to him. There's no way he's confused now.

He's still standing there, eyebrows raised, confused and in disbelief. Your mind whirrs.

How can I possibly make this any clearer? I don't know what else I'm supposed to do now... Maybe I should just brush it off and give up. The others must be wondering where we are. Hey, I bet Chan and Hyunjin are finally done filming-

Jisung's mouth crashes desperately onto yours.

Your back throbs as it's pressed against the cabinet; his chest bumps yours and your hands fly to his shoulders, clutching him as if you're drowning. A gasp slips out of your mouth before it's swallowed up; Jisung tilts his head and it's all you can do not to let your knees buckle under him.

You can feel his hair tickling your forehead as he gulps in half a breath of air, so soft, so impossibly soft, like pinfeathers under your fingers just as you'd imagined it to be. You tug him back in, gripping the neckline of his hoodie, trying to make him realise, trying to communicate everything you've been saying without saying anything at all.

He doesn't seem to care about the injury on his arm anymore, and one hand moves to cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. He's not just kissing you, he's pouring thousands upon thousands of words into you, words he can't ever hope to tell you and words you won't ever understand.

But you do understand.

He pulls back, gasping. Your foreheads bump clumsily against each other's and he holds you fast, panting.

"Jisung," you gasp.

"Y/n," he replies breathlessly. "I love you. I love you."

You finally have some clue as to what he's saying. "I love you too."

He nods frantically, his nose brushing your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, so hard it almost hurts. But you can't find it in yourself to care, returning the crushing affection with as much strength as you can muster, fuelled by relief and love and irrevocable joy and Jisung.

The hasty explanation of your feelings all this time evaporates off your tongue, burning into ash. You sweep it into a corner of your mind and dust the rest off Jisung's shoulders.

Chan clears his throat.

Both you and Jisung spring apart as if burned. Chan stands in the doorway, arms crossed as he leans against the frame. There's a delighted smirk painted across his face, the remainder of his dark, raw makeup smudged and faded. There's a feather in his hair, and he regards the two of you with a cool stare.

"So," he says slowly, clearly fighting the urge to tease. He speaks in English and Korean, so that both of you can understand.

Chan adjusts his coarse jacket. "Did you two finally manage to communicate? Did you finally manage to talk properly?"

Jisung grins.

a/n: div by @aquazero

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movie nights - leeknow

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: you and your boyfriend have a friday night tradition

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, little bit of crack, mild suggestiveness

a/n: hopefully this gains me some momentum... also do i call him leeknow or minho? who knows. (ha get it?) divider by @chilumitos

"Minho!" you shriek. "Give it back!"

Said man does not give it back, instead standing even higher on his tippy toes and holding your favourite plushie out of reach. A cheeky grin is stretched across his face. He holds the calico cat plushie just out of your grasp, swaying it back and forth.

You leap up onto the couch, almost slipping on the throw blanket draped haphazardly over its back, and stretch out towards minho. He steps back just as your fingertips brush the soft material and does a little dance, laughing at your reaction. The movie that was playing in the background has been long forgotten.

"Min," you whine. "Just give it back..."

Friday night movies had always been a tradition between you two. You both came up with the idea when you moved into your first place, celebrating the move-in with a movie and your favourite snacks. Every Friday after that, Minho would knock on your door, and you'd answer to a grinning cat, his arms laden with snacks and drinks. Then you two would pick a movie and cuddle as you watched it.

Sometimes you would poke fun at the characters and their actions, other times the atmosphere would be amiable and quiet. Not tonight.

You yelp as you slip off the couch, groaning when you hit the floor on your knees. Collapsing forward into the mountain of cushions, you glare up at Minho, huffing in defeat. He stands above you, still holding the plushie in the air, like he's not sure whether to drop it and ask if you're okay or continue dancing like the absolute madman he is.

You hope he does the first.

Safe to say, he does not.

Minho throws his head back and laughs so loudly it reverberates through the rooms. Then, as if it's an afterthought, he drops to his knees and tosses the plushie aside, scattering snacks and packets and drinks as he sits next to you. He clumsily knocks a few other things off the coffee table, rendered utterly unstable by his mirth.

You groan. "It's not funny."

He snickers, touching your arm gently. "It is a little."

You huff and roll over, facing away from him as you sulk. A haughty smile tugs at your lips as he prods your side, whining. Suddenly collapsing on top of you, he pokes your nose.

"Yeobo, stop ignoring mee...."

You groan and let out an oof as he shifts. He's gotten stronger and more muscly, which also means he's heavier (in the best possible way, of course). You can hardly breathe and a wheeze escapes you at the sudden realisation. Squirming away, you dislodge your legs and make a run for the plushie, scrambling across the floor. Minho yelps, grabbing your ankle. You squeal as he pulls you back, climbing up so you're both face to face. He smirks and grabs the plush with his long, slender arms.

"Minho, just-"

"Ah ah ah," he taps his lips, grinning. "Kiss. Then i'll give it back."

You sigh, and relent. He tastes like strawberry soda and fried chicken. His hand creeps to the back of your neck, stroking the shorter hairs there. You turn your head, breaking the kiss. Glaring at him, you sit up and smack him lightly on the arm.

"Now give it back."

Minho grins mischievously, and throws the plushie across the room. It lands somewhere down the hallway, and you crane your neck to see where it's gone. Your vision spins suddenly as Minho grabs your shoulders, pulling you back down onto the comfy pile of pillows and blankets. He smirks.

"Just one more kiss-"

"Minho!"

a/n: requests are open <3