#SKZ FANFIC | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ihatedtoadmit · 2 days ago

Text

Too much

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: self-hatred

word count: ~2.6k

summary: Loneliness is a silent killer, although when you notice its presence, you almost run into its blade willingly, had it not been for Chan to save you from yourself.

a/n: I know. Chan again. I apologise but he is my comfort place, in a sense.

↳ Main Masterlist

It was supposed to be a normal day, like any other, yet the weight in my chest only proved me wrong. It settled over me like a veil–, no, like chains, dragging me down to the bottom of the sea. Darkness enveloped me now, both in mind and in body, form hidden beneath the thick layer of my blanket. Even its fuzzy texture and soft fibres couldn’t comfort me, something I had thought impossible before.

Now, it was my reality.

I had woken up like usual, left alone in the shared apartment of my significant other. He worked hard, far harder than anyone I’d ever known, passionate about his job to a degree I could only ever hope to understand. My own work was remote, not needing me to leave the house much, if at all. Still, that had never stopped him from leaving me a message on my phone, always leading to us chatting until he got back home.

Until those messages had turned more and more sparse, comeback season having kept him understandably busy. It had always been a stressful season for him and the entire team, a fact I understood without a doubt.

Yet, on this particular day, a realisation had dawned on me: I relied on him too much.

For so long – practically between comeback seasons – we spent our days together, may that be through phone or not. And as he now worked away in his studio, far too busy to check my message, I’d realised how empty I felt. How my days were spent waiting for a notification, my heart caring too much about one person.

Talking with others didn’t feel the same, or at least those who understood me to a similar degree to him were just as busy, if somehow not more. I’d become isolated in this place, a prison of my own doing.

How I despised my heart for choosing who to trust the most, who to run to for attention when possible, like a touch-starved dog begging for headpats.

It was what had driven me beneath my blanket, curled up until my joints shifted and bones creaked, entirely too weakly body groaning in protest. I understood why it was screaming at me as it was I who had decided to lay there for hours, unmoving, on the verge of tears yet not quite letting them fall. Every single time my thoughts took a turn and over-analysed another interaction with someone, with him, my eyes turned glossy, imprisoning those crystalline droplets like my thoughts had imprisoned me.

I couldn’t believe how clingy I had become, how deeply it was embedded into my nature despite my endless tries to get rid of it, ever since I was a child. No human being could ever possibly give me this much of their attention, no matter how they said it was fine, as it was physically impossible.

I’d been hurt by those promises too much in the past to believe them again.

Yet, even now, I kept listening, breath stilling just so I could hear the soft buzzing of my phone: the telltale sign of a notification. None came, however, and I was left only feeling worse, like a leech that had somehow managed to deceive those around it. They hadn’t signed up for someone like me upon the beginning of our friendships; nobody would have expected to suddenly get a friend who needed attention practically all day and week.

My body shivered and I only curled up tighter, the day now gone with me having done nothing at all. No chores, no hobbies, nothing. I was lucky enough to have had today off work-wise, although perhaps it would have taken my mind off of this thing.

I wasn’t sure, although I would have had this realisation sooner or later anyway.

The lock turned and I froze, body straining to check my phone for a time. The sudden light blinded me and yet I powered through it, burning eyes confirming my suspicions: it was far too early for Chan to be home.

His steps had already halted somewhere in the living room, voice laced with worry as he called out to me. It was enough for me to know that I would be caught had I gone out to greet him, nowhere near a state stable enough to pretend I was fine. My glossy eyes only watered more from having checked my phone, sensitive to the bright light after being in the darkness for so long.

The door slowly creaked open and light poured in from behind me, yet I remained still, hoping he’d think I was asleep. It was strange enough I hadn’t greeted him back, tall form laden with comfy clothes and waddling out to greet him with an all-encompassing hug.

Now he only got a small lump under a blanket, still and unresponsive.

His voice was quiet as he called out to me again, gentle, as if speaking any louder would shatter me. The hand that now caressed my shoulder was equally gentle, if not more, careful to not put any pressure on me. Despite that I didn’t move, mindful of my breathing and keeping it steady.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Apparently I was much too late to pretend I was fine, easy to read like an open book.

“Are you having a bad day mentally, or physically?” – he tried again, that beautiful voice even more tender, just for my sake.

I shifted then, curling up even tighter, if possible, yet it wasn’t enough to break the connection we had. Chan’s hand remained firm on my shoulder, as if it was written in the fabric of reality to be so.

“How did you know?” – my voice was small, too small, yet he didn’t comment on it. “You only ever do this when something’s wrong. Besides, this is your comfort blanket, love. You use it when you want to feel cosy and whenever you’re in need of a hug. Don’t shut me out, please? We’ve talked about this. Let me hug you, let me take care of you.”

His words were met with silence, although my lower lip was trembling as the coil within my chest was wound too tight now. He didn’t see it, of course not, it was physically impossible. I’d positioned myself to not be seen, ashamed of myself and who I’d become, who I truly was.

The hold on my shoulder tightened ever so slightly, worry no doubt coursing through Chan’s veins at my lack of response. It was extremely rare for one of us to do this, to go completely silent; we’d laid down some rules in our relationship long ago, just so there wouldn’t be any hurt feelings over misunderstandings. But I couldn’t speak now.

Not when doing so would break the dam inside my heart, letting everything ugly I’d kept inside spill out and taint this wonderful person.

Chan didn’t speak again as he instead let his actions do all the talking, the bed dipping behind me as he laid down. I wasn’t engulfed and I wasn’t moved; he simply had that hand on my arm now, thumb going back and forth in a comforting motion I didn’t deserve. He didn’t know how it only made me feel worse, to receive comfort when I was the one supposed to be giving it.

To be so weak and dependent on someone who was already dealing with too many things, it disgusted me.

I disgusted myself.

I wasn’t sure how long we had remained like that, just him quietly laying behind me as I fought against my tears. Eventually I failed, the droplets spilling forth and leaving behind glistening trails on my skin. A soft sniffle escaped me without my consent, causing the hold on my arm to tighten, yet Chan never pressed for a response or explanation.

He knew it wouldn’t work, knew it would only cause me to shut myself off.

Instead the sheets rustled as I moved sluggishly, limbs aching and joints popping. I could already see the grimace on his face at the sounds, knowing not all were natural but due to the state of my withering body. No matter, it wasn’t important right now.

“Channie, be honest. Am I too much?”

I watched as his expression shifted, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He probably didn’t expect such a question without warning, although to me, its presence made complete sense. This gaping emptiness in my chest perhaps hadn’t formed today, but I finally noticed it and things couldn’t stay the same. Not anymore.

I couldn’t keep being this dependent on a few people, on him all alone.

“What? Where did you even get this idea? Of course you’re not. You’re my baby, my love, my everything. Did someone comment something like this again?” – his voice was rushed, firm, as if in a race to reassure me.

I shook my head, denying his claims.

“Then what happened? Where did you get that stupid idea from?”

My eyes momentarily closed as his hand slid up to my face, wiping a few tears away, only to have more in their wake. He didn’t stop though and instead lingered there, the missed warmth of his hand slowing the droplets’ descent.

“I just realised some things now that you’re busy. Nobody said anything to me.”

Those warm orbs twisted at my words, turning darker and pained. Both his hands held my face now and with so much affection I felt like I was robbing the man, feeling a twist in my stomach at just how worried he seemed now.

“And what did you realise?” – his voice was smaller this time, as if afraid to ask, to know.

A deep inhale expanded my chest forcefully, yet once again not enough to sever our bond. His hands remained firmly in place, thumbs catching my ever-falling tears, causing my chest to tighten impossibly more. The ends of my lips dipped the moment I could feel the dam cracking within my heart, within my soul, disgusting tar and sewage leaking out through the thin openings.

And he stood at its foot, arms open, ready to let it wash over him.

“How can you tolerate me? I yap and whine a lot, even when I know you’re busy and stressed. Even now, I should be the one comforting you and yet here I am, breaking down, again. This isn’t fair towards you, to have someone so demanding as me as your partner. Or as someone in your life in general. I’m clingy and can easily overthink things, needing constant reassurance that nobody has the fucking time or energy to give. Of course they don’t, it’s physically impossible, so why? Why do you look at me like this, as if seeing me in pain hurts you?” – my voice died near the end, cracking from the unbearable weight of my emotions.

Chan didn’t hesitate.

Steady arms pulled me close and buried me into his chest, as if he was openly offering the place for me to live. His heart beat strongly in its cage, and I didn’t doubt that he would have scooted it away just to give me space there. It was such a Chan thing to do, to give without needing anything back and it only drove that self-inflicted knife deeper into my own chest.

“That’s not true. Maybe you don’t believe me right now, but none of what you said is true.”

His hold on me only tightened as he muttered those words into my hair, holding me so tight it felt as if he thought I would disappear otherwise.

“First of all, you take care of me plenty, my love. You always check in on me, leave me something each day to enjoy. Sometimes it’s a small note with a doodle and a short, but sweet message on it, other times it’s some cookies I can take in and eat with the boys. Just the other night you held me like this, lulling me to sleep with your gentle touches and humming.”

A violent sob tore itself out of me at that, two sides of my mind warring against each other. One wanted to believe Chan’s words, that I had some worth and wasn’t just some greedy bastard, while the other was incapable of accepting such things. They fought against each other in a violent battle, rendering me a sobbing mess in someone’s arms who I didn’t even think I was deserving of.

Yet, Chan’s arms remained around me, as if saying ‘You do deserve it’.

“Secondly, you always do your best to respect my space out of your own volition. I’ve never had to ask for it, because whenever you know I’m at work or stressed, you keep to yourself a bit. Only when I replied or I’m obviously free do you bombard me with messages or cutely start rambling about a new hyperfixation of yours. And I love it when you do that. I love seeing you be so excited about something that you nearly burst at the seams, and even be more excited to tell me about it.” – his voice was tender, so sure in itself even in its wavering state.

I didn’t react, overwhelmed by the emotions wrecking my body from the inside, despicable and ugly.

Yet, he still loved me like this, and I couldn’t understand how.

“You’ve never been too much, love. It’s okay to feel lonely at times, to feel more comfortable with certain people than others. That’s why I and your closest friends are here, and I’m sure they’d say the same. We love you both when you’re quiet and more reserved, and when you can barely contain your excitement over wanting to share something.”

A hiccup escaped me at that, and I just knew I’d tainted his t-shirt, terribly so.

“But you’re busy and stressed, and also have to take care of the boys besides yourself. I don’t—I don’t want to add onto that by being clingy. I hate that I feel the need to do so.” “You wouldn’t, my love. Never. But to make you feel better, how about I’ll put my phone on don’t disturb when I’m busy, hm? Then you can message me whenever you want, and when I’m free, I’ll reply shortly. Would that make you feel better?”

I nodded into his shirt, although that solution was a mere bandage to an open wound. Blood kept gushing from it as the plaster could do nothing against its force, only time and self-reflection able to heal it, if anything.

My knuckles turned white from the force I held onto him, greedily basking in his warmth despite knowing I shouldn’t.

“Please don’t ever keep it in if you ever feel like this again. I’m always there for you, my love, always. And you should know by now, silly,” – his voice gained a certain lightness to it, desperately hoping to lift this heavy atmosphere in the room – “I love nothing more than taking care of the boys, taking care of you. It’s what drives me to be better, to always be there for you in case of anything.”

His lips pressed into the crown of my head, sending warmth gently crawling down my spine, easing the knots in my stomach and the tense state of my muscles.

“You give so much yet ask for nothing, deriving yourself of even your basic needs.” “Perhaps that’s why Seungminnie said you’re dating a version of yourself.”

A chuckle blossomed in Chan’s chest at that, brief but sincere all the same. I smiled at the sound, unable to keep it in when it was one of my favourites.

“Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?” “Always, my love. Always.”

105 notes · View notes

ivyues · 2 days ago

Text

Puppy Love | 5 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

Seungmin's quiet day with his girlfriend is ruined when the rest of Stray Kids had other plans – and Lee Know got suspicious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Seungmin had been looking forward to spending the day with you, just the two of you, away from the chaos of the dorms and the playful interruptions of the other members. It wasn’t that he didn’t love them – of course he did – but having uninterrupted time with his girlfriend was a rare luxury. And he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

Unfortunately, the rest of Stray Kids had different plans.

“Hyung, let’s all go out!” I.N had practically begged over the phone, his voice carrying child-like enthusiasm. “It’s been forever since we’ve hung out with Y/Nnie.”

Seungmin sighed, shooting you a glance from across the couch, where you were curled up in a cozy blanket. He wanted to decline, but you, ever the peacemaker, smiled and shrugged. “It could be fun,” you said, though you sounded just as content to stay in.

Seungmin grumbled something about how he had other plans (meaning he wanted to keep you all to himself), but ultimately, he had a soft spot for you and agreed. “Fine,” he muttered. “Then come pick us up.”

The call ended, and you giggled as you leaned into him. “You’re sulking.”

“I am not,” he retorted, wrapping his arm around you anyway.

You laughed, reaching up to fix his slightly tousled hair, smoothing it down with gentle fingers. He instantly melted under your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your hand, much like a puppy basking in affection. A soft, content hum escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile at how easy it was to get him to relax.

“We still have some time before they come,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Might as well relax.”

The warmth of each other, the quiet apartment, and the lingering anticipation between you made for the perfect moment. One glance at each other was all it took before your lips met in a series of soft, lingering kisses. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek as your fingers tangled in his hair. Time slipped away as the two of you became completely engrossed in each other, so lost in the moment that you didn’t hear the front door open.

When the members arrived, they expected to find you both ready to go. Instead, they were greeted with the sight of you and Seungmin caught in an intimate embrace, lips still brushing against each other, completely unaware of your audience. The sight was enough to render them all frozen in shock – until Hyunjin’s barely stifled gasp broke the silence, forcing you to shoot apart.

Felix’s eyes widened, his hands immediately covering his mouth in excitement. “Oh my god.”

Han elbowed Changbin. “Dude. They’re actually making out.”

Changbin blinked, then snorted. “And look at Seungmin’s face—he’s got Y/N’s lipstick all over him.”

Indeed, faint traces of your lipstick now marked the corner of Seungmin’s lips, and even a smudge on his jawline. You had a similar tint on your own skin, a clear indication of just how engrossed you both had been.

You gasped softly, eyes widening as your hand flew to your lips. “Oh my god.”

Seungmin immediately lifted his sleeve to wipe at his face, but the action only smudged the lipstick further. “Why didn’t you knock?!” he groaned, voice still thick with embarrassment.

Felix laughed, shaking his head. “I live here too! We thought you’d be ready to go.”

You buried your face in Seungmin’s shoulder, groaning. “This is so embarrassing.”

Meanwhile, the members barely had time to process the scene before the real problem arrived.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in panic. “Minho-hyung is coming in behind us!”

Thinking fast, I.N grabbed Lee Know’s arm as soon as he stepped inside. “Hyung! Wait, wait, wait! I forgot to show you this thing outside – come with me real quick!”

Lee Know raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. “Can’t it wait?”

Felix jumped in, pushing him back towards the door. “Nope! It’s really important! Super important! Life-changing, even.”

Lee Know narrowed his eyes, glancing past them, trying to figure out what was going on. “Why are you all acting weird?”

“Because we’re always weird,” Han said smoothly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “C’mon, let’s go see whatever Innie wants to show you.”

Meanwhile, the remaining members turned their attention back to Seungmin, who was still frantically trying to rid himself of the lipstick evidence.

Chan smirked. “You might want to clean up before Lee Know actually sees you.”

Felix giggled. “Yeah, we don’t want you getting in trouble, Minnie.”

Han, grinned. “Or maybe we do.”

Seungmin groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “You guys are the worst.”

Changbin, watching from the side, chuckled and nudged Seungmin with his elbow, an approving glint in his eyes. “Hey, at least you’re finally getting it,” he teased with an older brother's smirk.

Flustered, Seungmin quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bathroom. He huffed, looking at his reflection, reaching for a makeup wipe.

You simply smiled, gently taking the wipe from his hand. “Let me.”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing, giving in. He sat across from you, his eyes meeting yours as you carefully wiped away the lipstick stains. One hand held his chin gently, tilting his face to get every last smudge. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and he gazed at you with soft eyes, letting you take care of him.

Once his face was clean, you smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “There. Good as new.”

Seungmin’s lips curled into a small smile as he nudged his forehead against yours. “You just got lipstick on me again, didn’t you?.”

You laughed, wiping the fresh mark away. “Oops.”

-----

Out with the group, Seungmin trailed behind you like a lost, lovesick puppy. No matter where you went, he was just a step behind, his gaze lingering on you with a fondness that did not go unnoticed by the others. The members teased him relentlessly, but Seungmin hardly seemed to care – he was too busy staying as close to you as possible.

Later, when you found yourself alone with Lee Know, he smirked at you knowingly. "You’ve trained your dog well, huh?" he teased, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "Doesn’t even need a leash the way he was practically glued to you the whole time.”

You grinned, crossing your arms in return. “And you were watching me the whole time, huh? You know, I didn't think you were the type to play the protective older brother.”

Lee Know scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please. As if I’d waste my time.”

“I mean, it’s already been close to a year, and you’re still like that,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed, looking away for a moment before shooting you a pointed look. “Yeah, and somehow, it still hasn’t gotten any less pathetic.”

Laughing, you nudged him playfully. “Sure, Minho. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

-----

The drive home was peaceful, the occasional soft laughter from the guys the only disruption. By the time they pulled up in front of the dorms, the others had already taken note of yours and Seungmin’s position. It was a familiar sight – the two of you tangled in quiet slumber his head resting against the headrest, while yours rested on his shoulder and his jacket still draped over the two of you.

Hyunjin turned in his seat and groaned playfully. “Again? You two are tangled up in each other again?”

Just as he said it, the car door opened, as Lee Know was walking past, having missed the earlier part of the conversation. His eyes flickered between you and Seungmin, who was groggily stirring awake, and then back to the guys, his expression shifting instantly.

“What?” Lee Know’s voice was sharp, his gaze narrowing as he processed Hyunjin’s words.

Seungmin stiffened beside you as realization dawned on him. You, still half-asleep, blinked in confusion as you felt the sudden tension in the air. The rest of the guys instantly scrambled to fix their mistake.

“Wait—no! Not like that!” Han waved his hands frantically, his face contorted in panic.

“They were just sleeping! On each other! Not—Not like that!” Felix added, eyes wide.

“Literally just heads on shoulders! With a jacket!” Hyunjin exclaimed, as if that would make everything better.

You groaned, before shooting him a glare. "Hyunjin, use your pabo brain before speaking next time!"

Changbin snickered from the side. “Bro, I swear, Seungmin just saw his entire life flash before his eyes.”

“Not funny,” Seungmin muttered, though his ears were burning red.

Glazing at your brother, you mumbled quietly, “If you’d know…” as your fingers traced the fabric over the covered love bite below your collarbone.

Getting an idea, you leaned forward with a smirk. "Seungmin, is your sister single? Maybe he would stop bugging us if he—"

Seungmin, who had just taken a sip of water, choked immediately. His eyes widened in sheer panic.

"NO!" he blurted out, before shaking his head frantically while pointing a finger at you. "No no no no no!"

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | masterlist

#seungmin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #seungmin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #seungmin #stray kids #skz #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #seungmin fluff #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids fluff

110 notes · View notes

quokkaholic · 2 days ago

Text

Babysitting skz hyung line

Warnings/ tags: headcannons/drabbles, pure fluff, babies, toddlers. Not edited

Synopsis: You are an uncle/aunt and the members of skz accompany you babysitting. Some are babysitting a 10-12 month old boy and the others, a 2-3 year old girl (indicated in the subheaders by b or g). Most of the hyung line are written babysitting the niece.

y/a,u/n= your aunt/uncle name

y/n/n= your niece’s or nephew’s name

A.n: I don’t think any member of skz has an aversion towards kids, but I think some like kids more than others and are therefore more accustomed to caring for them.

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•.

Bang Chan (g)

There is no escaping Chan’s fatherly nature; he would be so unbelievably good at babysitting. You’d try to take the lead when watching your niece and shoulder all the hard parts, but his caring soul and love for you (and her) would override his desire to relax.

Nap time is always the hardest time of day, even harder than actual bed time. Tears start streaming down your niece's face as soon as you turn the light to her room off; she knows what's coming. Her cries quickly become sobs as you ask her to pick out a book for you to read to her. You instructed Chan to wait in the living room, as you knew this wouldn't be particularly pleasant. Your niece has unmatched fomo causing her to bawl everyday at nap time no matter how much you reassure her that it is okay to rest, that you will be there when she wakes, but the added excitement of having her favorite uncle there makes her even more reluctant to lay down. If only you could just get her to calm down; you know as soon as her little head hit the pillow, she would be out like a light. Her chest heaving as she shouts out shaky wails. No matter how often you watch her, it never gets easier for either of you.

Starting to feel overwhelmed, you take a break from trying to coax her into bed with stories and back rubs, you even tried her favorite music box. Head falling into your hands, you rest your elbows on your knees. You try to calm your own mind, but it's near impossible with her repetitive screams. At the sound of the door opening, your gaze flies to the exit. If she leaves the room, you’ll never get her down. Instead of seeing her small hands grasping at the knob, your misty eyes lock with the concerned face of Chan. Your niece’s screams only get louder, now incorporating her nickname for Chan between sobs. He slowly walks in and takes a seat next to you before tightly wrapping his arms around your shoulders and giving a squeeze as he gives a comforting, prolonged kiss to your temple. Upon letting go of you he opens his arms in invitation to the little one, she immediately obliges, waddling into his chest, letting out shaking breaths as her crying begins to cease. His ability to console is truly other worldly as he coos at her,

“Hey it's okay. We will miss you while you nap, but we are here to hangout with you all day okay? How about we have your y/a,u/n hold you while I sing to you, yeah? That sounds nice, right? They seem sad too. Will you help me make them feel better?” he persuades her while passing her small frame into your lap. At his request, her tiny arms reach up to wrap around your neck, smooshing her damp cheek to yours. She doesn’t even make it through the first song before her soft snores are mixing with Chan’s sweet lullaby. You are able to give him a grateful look before you to partake in a blissful nap.

Lee know (g)

I don’t see Lee know as being super interested in just any kid, especially before they can talk, but once he gets to know them, he would cherish the time he got to spend with them. He especially likes playing pretend with your niece and attempting to teach her different skills.

Lee know is surprisingly good with your niece, so good in fact, you worry that she likes him more than you despite only seeing him less than a handful of times a year. She always clings to him so tightly, wanting every ounce of his attention. You can’t fault her; you feel the same way. When you walk through the front door, her face alights and she runs to cling onto his legs. Lee know will act like he doesn't like the attention, like her affection for him doesn’t melt his heart, but it so obviously does. A sweet grin pinching at his cheeks as he drags her back to her bedroom to play.

You take time to say bye to your sibling before heading to the bedroom to join them, but as you approach, you hear bickering. Pulling the door open, you see Lee know on his knees beside your niece at her play kitchen, a tiny spoon in one hand stirring a pot “cooking” on the stove and blocking the opening of the pot with the other, rejecting the plastic ingredients your niece is attempting to throw in.

“I'm making soup, y/n/n! You don't put grapes in soup!” He gripes at her, matching her childish energy.

“Stop,” she whines drawing out the vowel,

“It’s good! It goes in it!” She is starting to get flustered, but Lee know won’t relent on his teaching, attempting to instill his chef skills as well as some emotional regulation in her.

“You don’t put fruit in kimchi jjigae, that would be crazy! Are you crazy?” He finally moves his hand from covering the pot to tickle her sides, defusing her oncoming tantrum without folding to her silly request. You can foresee the argument continuing when she regains her wits after her giggle fit ends, as her stubbornness can only be rivaled by his, so you suggest an alternative,

“How about we have Minho cook us some lunch, and we can help with the kiddy knife set he bought you?” Both of their faces light up at the idea.

Changbin (b)

I think Changbin would be absolutely giddy around your baby nephew, thinking everything he did was hilarious. I think Bin would be obsessed with making him laugh just so he could laugh too.

You buckled your nephew into his highchair as Changbin warmed up the leftover spaghetti you guys were instructed to feed him; when you heard the choice in food, you thought it was a joke, but your sibling assured you that it was, in fact, not. Having half a mind that they left you such a messy meal on purpose, you preemptively removed your nephew’s clothes, as you knew the boys were about to make a disaster. Changbin offered to be the one to feed him. He could’ve been being considerate of you, but it's more likely that he just wanted to spend more time with the little one.

He places the bowl in front of your nephew, theatrically moving the loaded spoon around chuckling as the boy’s eyes follow it through the air. The boys pass laughs back and forth as Binnie puts on a show for him and he squeals in delight, slapping the table. One slap goes a bit awry and hits the edge of the bowl sending pasta all over the highchair tray and into your nephew's lap, causing the room to burst into a giggle fest. You guys opt for allowing him to practice feeding himself with the spilled noodles, making an even bigger mess of his face and torso, as you and Changbin clean up the floor and nearby wall.

You ask Bin to give your nephew a quick bath before his nap while you did some dishes and started preparing lunch for you two. He seemed a bit nervous at first, but after some encouraging words and a kiss from you, he was instilled with confidence. You don’t get far in cooking before their mixed laughter draws you from the kitchen to the doorway of the bathroom to find Binnie playing peekaboo with the washcloth and ringing a few drops of water on the baby's head after each surprise. You decided that lunch could wait; watching this was way more important.

Hyunjin (g)

I think Hyunjin would’ve been very worried about watching your niece for the first time, worried that he’d say or do something wrong or that would upset her. But, the moment they met, they became sassy best friends.

The three of you sat at your niece's play table. The height and size of the chair causing both yours and Hyunjin’s knees to almost be tucked to your chests as you colored and drew using her vast array of art supplies. You’ve been working on sharing with her, but she only sees it as people should share with her and not the other way around. Hyunjin gives in to her every request, handing every crayon, marker, and pencil over to her greedy little hands even though she really only wants them because he is using them. You tried to stop him, but he’s too soft, especially when it comes to her, and she knows exactly how to flash the sweet eyes and melt his already squishy heart.

After finishing your drawing, you scan over the works of the other two artists. Hyunjin’s flowers are unsurprisingly stunning. You shower him with praise, commenting on how it looks cohesive despite only being able to use each color once, causing him to chuckle. Your niece joins in on the compliments copying some of your words, but for own work. Hyunjin hypes up her art heavily despite it just being an abstract jumble of scribbles, trying to be supportive. You decide to add,

“Wow y/n/n, so pretty! Is that a flower like Hyune drew?” you ask, trying to encourage her creativity. She only shoots you a judging, sideward glance that looks all too familiar, before responding with a flippant refusal of your guess. Hyunjin chimes in with a click of his tongue before mocking you in voice dripping in playful condescension,

“It's obviously a surrealist landscape,” dramatically rolling his eyes before continuing to add finishing touches to his piece.

“Obviously, y/a,u/n,” your niece parrots back to you, mimicking Hyunjin’s brazen tone perfectly without even looking up from her paper.

“Babe, you are such a bad influence,” you reprimand him trying to hold in your laughter as to not encourage her insolent behavior.

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•.

maknae line coming soon

A.n pt.2: thanks for reading :) Sorry Chan's doesn't have a representative photo. I didn't want a photo of a random crying child. Didn't fit vibe

Pic creds: x x x

-mo💜

Masterlist

#skz #stray kids #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz x gn reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x gn reader #stray kids headcanons #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz hyung line #stray kids hyung line #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin

56 notes · View notes

fenya-scribbles · 1 day ago

Text

Secret

♥--------♥--------♥

Pairing: bf!HanJisung, gn!Reader

Other Characters: Lee Know, Felix, Seungmin

Summary: You’re sneaking around and Han comes to his own conclusions as to why.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Content warnings: anxiety, mentions of infidelity

Word Count: 2,964

A/N: You wanted this :3

♥--------♥--------♥

The first time it happened, Han didn’t think anything of it. He’d been sitting on your couch with you curled in his lap, lazily running his fingers through your hair. “So”, he said, interrupting your mindless scrolling through Instagram, “you remember that I have the day off tomorrow?” “Sure babe”, you replied, turning so you could look at him properly. “I was thinking that maybe we could check out that new café you wanted to try?” You swallowed. “Oh babe, I’m sorry, I made plans with Yeji tomorrow. She’s finally back from her semester abroad.” Han looked disappointed for a second, but he understood. Yeji was your best friend and you hadn’t seen her in literally a year. “No, don’t worry, cupcake”, he said, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. “You sure?” He nodded. “I’m sure.” “I could come by in the evening? We can watch Howl’s moving castle”, you offered, putting a smile on your boyfriend’s face. “I’d love that, jagi.”

A few hours later, you were lying in bed. Han was sleeping soundly beside you, looking like the sweetest angel baby on the planet. Deciding it was time to sleep too, you went to plug in your phone on the charge beside your bed, when it lit up with a text.

Seungmin: You’re sure he doesn’t know?

You smiled to yourself.

You: He’s completely clueless.

***

It happened again two days later. Han asked you if you wanted to hang out at the studio during his recording session. “I’d love to babe, but I have to run some errands for my mom”, you replied. And he shrugged it off again. It was no big deal right? It’s not like you tried to avoid him or anything. No, that was just his anxiety talking. “Alright babe, I’ll see you tonight then”, he said and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

But as it turned out, that was only the beginning. Over the following weeks you started to blow him off again and again. You had a work project or met with Yeji or your parents needed you or, one time, you really didn’t want any company, which was concerning, coming from you. But Han didn’t want to doubt you. He didn’t want to admit, that it worried him, how you seemed to have less and less time for him. Because that was scary as hell, a fear that would set in his bones and make it absolutely impossible to breathe. So he brushed it off. You were still his girlfriend. His girl. His.

***

“Girl, I’m telling you, this is so stupid”, Yeji said, her fingers tightly curled around the steaming cup of coffee in front of her. “It’s not that big of a deal”, you replied. “What if he gets suspicious, huh? He’s not stupid, you know.” Your best friend was not a fan of your current antics and you knew it. Most of Han’s members weren’t either, but you still stood by your decision. “I know, but he trusts me. He wouldn’t doubt me.” “I don’t know Y/N. Sneaking around with Seungmin like that...” Yeji sighed. “Just don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.” “It won’t”, you said, trying hard to hide the hint of doubt that started to bloom in the back of your mind.

***

Over time, Han turned needy. A lot more than usual. You didn’t mind, generally, because he was your boyfriend after all, but then he wanted to join in on your baking day with Felix. “Please, jagi”, he gave you his biggest boba eyes, “I’m sure Lixie wouldn’t mind.” You cupped his face and took a deep breath. It was incredibly hard to refuse him when he was pouting at you like that. “Maybe another time, babe”, you said, “I haven’t met up with Lixie alone in a long time and I want some quality time with my friend. You understand that, don’t you?” Han pouted even more, but eventually, he let out a defeated sigh. “But you bring home brownies, right?”, he asked. “Of course, babe.”

Later, when Felix opened the door, you still felt a bit bad for refusing Han. “He’s in his room”, Felix said, “And for the record, just because I’m baking you alibi brownies, doesn’t mean I like what you’re doing.” You pushed past him, leaving your shoes by the front door, and made your way to Seungmin’s room. Being judged by anyone was uncomfortable, but being judged by Felix just hurt your soul. Maybe they were right. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this. With a deep breath, you pushed the growing doubts aside, and knocked on Seungmin’s door. After a moment, he called you inside. You found him sitting on his bed, guitar in his lap. With raised eyebrows he looked up at you, and said: “Are you still sure about this?” You nodded, doing your best to look certain. “I am. This is what I want.”

***

Three days later, you were at Felix and Seungmin’s place again, about to put on your shoes. Seungmin was standing beside you, lazily leaning against the wall. “Today was fun”, he said. You looked up from tightening your laces with a fond smile. “It was”, you said, “you’re a really good-“ You were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Both your heads snapped towards the door. “Are you expecting someone?” Seungmin shook his head. “No, must be for Felix.” He stepped past you and opened the door. “Han?” Your boyfriend looked at Seungmin - and then his eyes shifted onto you. “Jagi? What are you doing here?” You felt your heart sink, as an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach. Fuck. “Babe…I…uhm…”, you stammered. “She was bringing back Lix’s brownie box”, Seungmin swooped in. “Yeah, right”, you immediately agreed.

Han’s gaze shifted between the two of you, uncertain if he believed what he was told. “Right”, he said, drawing out the word. “Lix is in his room”, Seungmin quickly changed the subject, stepping aside to let Han in, but before your boyfriend could move, you squeezed past both of them. “See you at home babe”, you shouted over your shoulder as you bolted down the stairs, leaving both Han and Seungmin staring after you. That was too fucking close.

***

It was late, way past midnight, and Han couldn’t sleep, the weird scene with you and Seungmin playing over and over in his head. He’d been watching you peacefully sleep beside him for roughly an hour now. You looked so pretty, so calm and innocent, so utterly unable to hurt him. And yet, something was stirring within him. There was this nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, this persistent voice in the back of his head, telling him that something was up. Something was not right. You were hiding something. And he loved you, he loved you more than anything, and it hurt him to mistrust you. It hurt him to suspect you of anything bad. No, he wanted to believe things were fine. You wanted him to be with you by the end of the day, didn’t you? You asked him to spend the night, despite spending less and less of your days with him. You wanted him around, right? You still loved him. You still loved him?

Han let out a sigh. Gently, he shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure not to disturb you. Then he slipped out from under the covers and made his way to the kitchen. Maybe drinking some water would help calm him down. Seeing that the dishwasher had run, he opened it to grab a glass - and stopped right in his tracks. Sitting there, between cups and bowls, was a clear plastic box. A box he’d been eating brownies out of for the past three days. Felix’s box. The box you’d supposedly brought back to him earlier that day. But you hadn’t. It was right here. You’d lied to him.

Suddenly, Han felt violently sick, as all of his fears seemed to come true at once. The picture of you standing behind Seungmin, utterly startled, staring at him like a deer in headlights, once again returned to Han, burning itself into the back of his eyelids. Why had you been that startled? What had you been doing there? With Seungmin? Han’s heartbeat accelerated so fast it left him dizzy, and before he knew it, he sunk down onto the kitchen floor, back pressed against the cabinets and knees pulled up to his chin. Oh no. Oh no. Were you cheating on him? With one of his best friends, no less? Was this where you went when you had no time for him? Han’s body started violently shaking as tears started to run down his face. This couldn’t be happening. You were his world, his heart, his soul. A part of him. You were everything. He couldn’t lose you. Han’s skin felt like it was on fire, his lungs struggled to let in air, his vision was beyond blurry.

And then his body started to move on its own. He couldn’t stay here, in your apartment, for a second longer. He snuck back into your bedroom, grabbing his hoodie and his phone, avoiding to look at you at all costs. Then he slipped on his shoes and rushed outside. The way home was a blur, he got there purely by muscle memory, as his mind was racing with made up images. You kissing Seungmin. You in Seungmins lap. You tangled up in bed with Seungmin. It made him sick, his heart breaking over and over in his chest. This couldn’t be happening. You were his one and only. His forever. How could you do this? How could this happen? It couldn’t. He couldn’t lose you. No. No.

He didn’t bother to be quiet when he entered his own home, the door loudly closing behind him. It didn’t take long for Minho to come out of his room, despite the late hour, looking like he’d just fallen out of bed. Because he likely had. “What the fuck, Hannie”, he said, rubbing his eyes. But as soon as he took a good look at his best friend, he knew. “Fuck”, he mumbled, rushing over. And then Han fell apart, utterly and completely, turning into a sobbing, shaking, broken mess in Minho’s arms.

30 Minutes later, Han was still crying, curled up in Minho’s arms on his bed, as the older one rubbed comforting circles on his back. No word was spoken, Han was unable to even think of speaking, and Minho already knew what was going on. He knew what you’d been doing, and he’d also disapproved, precisely for this reason. But you had insisted, and now Han was inconsolable. Broken. Unnecessarily hurt. Minho cursed you in his head, pulled out his phone and shot you a text.

***

You woke up early to an empty bed. Confused, you tapped your hand in the spot where Han should be. But he wasn’t. You let out a groan. It wasn’t unheard of that Han disappeared before you woke up, but you still hated when it happened. Groggily, you reached for your phone. Usually, Han sent you a text when he had to leave early. And there was a text on your phone, but it wasn’t from Han. It was from Minho and it had you sit up straight in a flash.

Minho: Tell him or I will.

The time stamp read 3:47am. Even with your mind not fully awake yet, you could put the pieces together. Han had left your place in the middle of the night. But why? What had happened? Why was Minho telling you to spill your secret? Confused, you got out of bed and made your way into the kitchen. The dishwasher was still open - and there, sitting in the top drawer, Felix’s brownie box was basically staring at you. “Fuck”, you muttered, frantically running your hands through your hair. Han had seen that. And he’d run to conclusions. Oh no. No, no, no. Yeji had been right. As had Felix and Minho. You’d been so stupid, so careless. How could you have ever thought that sneaking around like that with Seungmin would work? Why did you allow Seungmin to lie? And then you agreed? Fuck. Fuck.

At light speed, you got dressed, grabbed your things and rushed out the door. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you made your way to Han and Minho’s place, hands sweaty and mind racing. The thought of Han hurting had your chest clenching painfully. He was the love of your life, your person, your Hannie. You cursed yourself over and over for your foolishness. This was not what you’d planned, this was not what you’d wanted. When you arrived at their place, your hands were shaking, and silent tears were streaming down your face. Nervously, you rang the doorbell.

“About time”, Minho said when he opened the door. “How is he?”, you asked, voice shaky. Minho huffed. “What do you think?” He was staring daggers at you, but stepped aside to let you in. “He’s in his room. He slept a bit, but I couldn’t leave his side all night. You really fucked up, Y/N.” “I know”, you replied meekly, unable to meet his eyes. “Then go fix it.” Minho shoved you towards Han’s room, barely allowing you to take off your shoes.

When you entered Han’s room, your heart broke at the image in front of you. Han was curled up in his bed, knees drawn up to his chest. His face was puffy and streaked with tears, his whole body looking utterly exhausted from crying all night. He looked defeated. Broken. A quiet sob escaped your lips as the weight of what you had done crashed down on you. Han didn’t move, but his eyes were open, staring at nothing.

Cautiously, you made your way towards his bed, perching yourself on the edge. “Baby?”, you said softly, not yet allowing yourself to reach for him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle him flinching at your touch, so you didn’t risk it. At the sound of your voice, his gaze shifted towards you. His eyes were so swollen, so red, it sent daggers through your heart. He didn’t say a word, just blankly stared at you. The silence in the room was deafening, a heavy veil of unspoken assumptions.

“Do you love him?” When Han eventually broke the silence, he sounded rough and shaky. “Who?” It was a stupid question. You knew who he was talking about, you knew what he was thinking. But your stupid mouth was faster than your brain and so you made him say it. “Seung-“ He couldn’t finish, as his body convulsed with an earth shattering sob. At that, you threw all caution to the wind and rushed to his side, crawling into his bed beside him and wrapping him in your arms. “No”, you said, “no, baby. I don’t.”

Han was crying again, unable to push you away, even if part of him wanted to, but the craving to be close to you was bigger. “I love you”, you said, “only you.” You tightened your grip on him. “I’m so sorry”, you said, “I was so stupid. I’m so sorry, baby.” And for a while, you stayed like that. Han slowly melted more and more into you, despite the bad thoughts screaming in his head, as you apologised over and over, reassuring him of your love, tightly holding him close. You didn’t know how much time passed, didn’t care either, you just wanted to comfort your boyfriend, who you had hurt so foolishly.

When his sobs eventually died down, you allowed him to move back just enough to look at you. “Why did you lie?”, he asked, “About the box?” You sighed and brushed the tears from his face, his flushed skin hot under your fingers. “I’m so sorry about that”, you said, “it was so stupid. I should’ve just said that I met up with Minnie. We panicked, both of us. It was stupid.” Han looked at you, still utterly confused. “Why were you meeting up with him then?” You sighed again. “It was supposed to be a surprise”, you said, “but that’s not an option anymore now, I guess.” “A surprise?” You nodded. “Minnie was giving me guitar lessons. And singing lessons.”

Han fully sat up, removing himself from your embrace and you immediately missed his warmth, half chasing after him. “He was teaching you?” You nodded again. “I wrote a song for you. For our anniversary. I wanted to be able to sing it.” Han stared at you, searching your eyes. But you held his gaze effortlessly. There was no sign of dishonesty, none of that look you had when you had lied the day before. Slowly, Han took in what you said, putting the pieces together. “That’s why you were so busy these past weeks?” Again, you nodded. “I’m so sorry, Hannie, I should’ve handled it better. I just wanted to surprise you.” You reached for his hands and he let you, curling his fingers around yours. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” It was Han’s turn to nod, his gaze wandering to your intertwined fingers. He took a deep breath, as he decided to believe you.

“You wrote a song for me?”, Han asked eventually, giving you those big boba eyes you loved so much. A soft smile spread across your face. “Yeah.” “Can I hear it?”

♥--------♥--------♥

Fenya’s Masterlist

41 notes · View notes

pretty-blkgirl · 2 days ago

Text

W.E.A.Y [Ch. 3]

-Masterlist-

It’s embarrassing.

Walking into a *very important* meeting late, having ten men watch you as you come in, and your manager greet you with relief.

“She’s here! We can get this meeting started”

“Where are the girls?” You ask, looking around the room. Your members weren’t there, for whatever reason. You notice the only person you really know is your manager, Moni, who nervously fiddled with the bottom of her blazer.

“The girls are rehearsing. This meeting is just for you and the guys”

“I feel outnumbered” You joke, walking over to the only empty chair that sat around the huge, rectangular table. Bang Chan sat across from you, and you could feel his disapproval washing over you.

You knew Chan had the most beef with you because you were always getting into it with his members. Those seven men were his family, and he was wildly overprotective of them.

But, though he didn’t like you, he could never bring himself to be disrespectful. So, he greeted you.

“Hi Y/n, thank you for coming”

“No problem” You answer, awkwardly.

In all reality, you wanted to ask him why he was thanking you. You all were at your company, shouldn’t you be thanking him-

“I’d like to tell you that the kids and I are excited about this collab,” He said, his voice as monotone as ever, “The fans seem to be looking forward to it too”

“I thank you all for agreeing to even work on this album with me and the girls,” You say, not meeting his eyes, “We um, were big fans of your music, so we’re sure the album will be amazing”

Your manager smiled proudly. As much as you wanted to be snarky, you knew it wasn’t the time. It was early, there was a fraud detection on your bank account, and you just wanted to get the day over with.

“And we’re big fans too” Felix spoke up

“Can we talk about the incident that happened the other day?” Changbin asked, “I appreciate that we’re trying to be polite, but I don’t think it’s wise to ignore it”

You cleared your throat, your ears got hot, and you could feel everyone staring at you.

“What I said on stage wasn’t the most mature, my bad” You started

Moni claps her hands, smiling at you and looking over at the group, “Okay! So we’re good now?”

“But” You interrupt, holding a perfectly manicured hand up, “I only did that because Hyunjin tripped me”

“That was an accident” He nearly yelled, “I apologized as soon as it happened. And does that even matter? Didn’t you spill purple stuff all over Changbin?”

“Oh please, it was GRAPE JUICE. It’ll wash right out”

“No, it’s going to stain a WHITE suit” I.N defended

Moni stands, the irritation evident on her face, “Okay, let’s all calm down”

“No!” You say, standing with her, “Maybe I wanted to get a tiny, itsy bit of juice on his suit. I didn’t mean for all of that to happen”

It’s Han’s turn to stand, “Why would you want to fuck up his suit in the first place? We had to be on the red carpet like 10 minutes before that”

You point at him, eyes narrowing, “Because YOU decided to start screaming outside my GOTDAMN dressing room”

“I was SINGING. So sorry I like to warm up my voice before shows”

“Why didn’t you sing in your dressing room?”

“Han smirks, “Oh my members were sleeping, didn’t wanna wake them”

You roll your eyes, and that seems to piss Han off because he walks around the table to stand right in front of you

“I only did that because you decided to be rude towards Felix.”

“I didn’t do anything to him!”

“You ignored him! He was trying to say hello and you ignored him, that wasn’t cool”

You didn’t have a comeback, because you knew he was right. So, you looked away and spotted a pink-faced Felix.

“Felix, I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you. It was immature, it was rude, and I shouldn’t have done it”

His blush deepened, but he accepted your apology with a gentle nod and polite smile.

“Okay! I apologized, are we done now?”

“What did we do to you?” Lee Know questioned.

He and Seungmin had not said a word since everything started. They preferred to be quiet, people watched before they hopped in any situation.

“I mean, what started all of this? Really”

You knew what started it, but you didn’t want to say. Because in all honesty, it wasn’t them. It was the comparisons.

“Female Stray Kids”

“Wannabe Stray Kids”

You hated comparisons. It was petty, but when a radio host compared you all to the group in your face, live on air, you decided you never wanted to be associated with them again.

You started to resent them, then you all met backstage, and their manager made a joke about the comparisons.

They laughed, and your members laughed, you didn’t though. You always figured they looked down on you, so you made it up in your mind to hate them.

Childish? Yeah, maybe. But it had messed with your head so much to where you were doubting if you were Y/n or just a copy of an already successful group.

To thrive in an industry, you have to be authentic. And they were the one thing standing in the way of that.

Did you want to tell them that? No. They’d probably laugh at you.

So you shrugged, crossed your arms, and sat back down.

“There’s some tension” Moni sighed, “But this album is happening. You all will be seeing a lot of each other for the foreseeable future. Might as well get used to it”

“And how are we supposed to get used to it?” Seungmin asked. Not in a rude way, as if he was confused.

Then a smirk appeared on your manager’s face, one that meant you wouldn’t like what she had up her sleeve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @cunninglibrarian @holly-here @galaxy4489 @hyunmikim @yougottobekittenme @hyeon-yi @katsukis1wife @multi-fandom-nightmare @staybabblingbaby @kozumesphone @fuck-you-im-gae @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @champagneconfetti @juju-227592 @borahae-reads @reallychaoticwoo @hwangfrnd @fiest4plum @tsukiesimp @minniesverse @kpopnonous @estella-novella @fakeraccount @lezleeferguson-120

38 notes · View notes

zeroseuniverse · 2 days ago

Text

Respect is Earned

Word Count:980 Summary: This wasn't about entertainment. It wasn't about survival, either. It was about something bigger. Respect. Pairing: Han Jisung X Fem Reader

Navigation

The underground fight club smelled of sweat, blood, and desperation. Dim lights flickered above the ring, casting jagged shadows on the stained concrete floor. Fighters milled around the space, some stretching, others gauging their competition with sharp, wary eyes. The air buzzed with murmurs—bets being placed, debts being counted, names being whispered.

Some names carried weight. Other names were uttered with a sneer.

"The poser showed up tonight," someone muttered near the betting tables.

"Tch. What for? No one cares about him. He's not the real deal."

"Yeah, but he acts like he is. Probably here to pretend he's still one of us."

The conversation faded into the hum of the room, but the tone was unmistakable—dismissive, unimpressed. Whoever they were talking about wasn't respected here. This was a sharp contrast to the way fighters spoke of others, of legends who had clawed their way to the top with nothing but bruised knuckles and sheer will.

She kept her focus on the ring. The fight about to start was nothing special—two desperate men throwing wild punches, neither with enough training to make it last long. But that wasn't why she was here. This wasn't about entertainment. It wasn't about survival, either. It was about something bigger.

Respect.

She adjusted the tape around her wrists, steadying her breathing. No one here knew her yet. That would change soon enough.

A few feet away, another quiet conversation drifted past her.

"He's watching the new ones. Probably waiting to see who's worth keeping around."

"Like he even knows what that means."

She didn't look. Whoever he was, whatever weight his name carried or didn't, he didn't matter. Not yet.

The only thing that mattered was stepping into that ring and ensuring they remembered her when she stepped out.

The announcer's voice cut through the noise, calling out the next match. Her name echoed through the room, unfamiliar to most but soon to be known. A few fighters turned, giving her the once-over, weighing her in their minds before dismissing her just as quickly.

She stepped forward, rolling her shoulders, letting the anticipation settle into her bones. The fighter across from her was bigger, heavier, the kind that relied on brute force rather than technique. He smirked, cracking his knuckles as if this were just another easy win.

She let him believe it.

The bell rang, and he lunged.

She moved faster.

A sidestep, a sharp strike to his ribs. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he swung again. Sloppy. Predictable. She ducked and countered, her fist connecting cleanly with his jaw. The crowd stirred, murmurs shifting in tone. Interest.

She kept her expression neutral, kept her mind focused. This wasn't just about winning. It was about proving she belonged.

From somewhere in the crowd, unseen but present, someone watched with narrowed eyes. The poser. He wasn't impressed. Not yet.

But he would be.

The fight didn't last much longer. Her opponent recovered from the blow to his jaw, but his attacks grew reckless, desperate to overpower her with brute strength. She let him tire himself out, dodging each wild swing with calculated precision. When she struck again, it was with purpose—a sharp kick to the side of his knee, a swift elbow to his temple. He staggered, his balance lost. One final strike to the ribs, and he collapsed to the ground, wheezing.

The referee counted. The match was over.

A mix of reactions rippled through the crowd. Some scoffed, unimpressed. Others murmured in grudging approval. A few exchanged money, irritated at losing their bets. She didn't react, only turning away from her fallen opponent and stepping out of the ring, her heart pounding, adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

The respect she wanted wouldn't come from a single fight. She knew that. It had to be earned, piece by piece.

She wiped the sweat from her brow as she made her way toward the bookkeeper's table. A grizzled man behind the counter barely spared her a glance as he shoved a small envelope across the surface. "Your cut," he grunted. "Don't spend it all in one place."

She took the envelope, weighing it in her palm. The money inside wasn't much, not compared to the bets flying around the room, but it was enough. Enough to keep her going. Enough to help someone else. She slipped it into her pocket without counting it, already knowing where it was needed most.

She spotted a younger fighter slumped against the wall, fresh from a brutal loss. His lip was split, his knuckles raw, and the way he clutched his side told her the damage went deeper than what was visible. Without a word, she knelt beside him, pressing the envelope into his palm.

"What—?" he started, blinking at her in confusion.

"For the next one," she said simply. "Get patched up. Don't let them see you weak."

His fingers tightened around the money, and for a moment, he just stared at her. Then, with a small nod, he tucked it away, pushing himself up despite the pain. Wordless understanding passed between them before he limped off.

As she reached for her water bottle, she caught a few lingering stares from the fighters around her. Calculating. Judging. Weighing her next move.

And then, from the far side of the room, a pair of eyes lingered longer than the rest. The poser wasn't just watching anymore.

He was interested.

The next few fights came fast. Each time she stepped into the ring, she faced a new challenge—opponents stronger, faster, more experienced. But she adapted, learned their weaknesses, and turned their aggression against them. And with every win, the murmurs shifted. The sneers became nods. The dismissive glances turned into measuring looks.

She was no longer just another newcomer. She was something else. A problem. A threat. A name that mattered.

And Han Jisung noticed.

37 notes · View notes

cybergracie · 1 day ago

Text

the white lotus ⋆ ˚｡⋆ chapter one

✧ the art of being invisible ✧

wc: 7.5k

pairing: personal assistant!oc x family reunion attendee!hyunjin

synopsis: Gemma Parker has spent years keeping things under control -- her career, her emotions, her impossible boss. But when a work trip takes her to a luxury resort in Italy, she finds herself slipping into a world of salty air, stolen moments, and lingering glances with a boy who sees right through her carefully built walls. Hyunjin is charming, frustrating, and absolutely not a part of her plan -- but as the trip stretches on and their paths keep crossing, Gemma starts to wonder if she's been chasing the wrong dream all along. Because sometimes, the best stories aren't the ones you plan -- they're the ones you never see coming.

masterlist | dividers by @strangergraphics

There are two kinds of writers in the world.

The ones whose names are printed in bold on the spines of bestsellers, who get flown to Italy for exclusive literary retreats at five-star beach resorts, who sip Aperol Spritzes at golden hour while talking about ‘the craft’ as if they weren’t just regurgitating half-baked ideas in expensive clothing.

And then there are the ones like me. The ones who pick up the scraps, who scramble for a piece of the pie by making the reservations, by handling the tantrums, by sending polite decline emails with just the right amount of fake regret. The ones who run on caffeine and damage control, who sit in the back of luxury cars, juggling schedules and power dynamics like some kind of uncredited assistant to the universe itself.

The ones who are invisible.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was always supposed to be the first kind of writer. The kind people read. The kind whose words mattered.

Instead, I was here. At a flashy beachfront resort in Southern Italy, watching my boss – world-famous novelist and professional narcissist Celeste Laurent – flirt with the valet, even though she had spent the entire flight complaining about how ‘the service industry was dead to her’ after a slight inconvenience involving a missing bottle of imported sparkling water.

Celeste was the kind of woman who made a scene wherever she went. That was the power of being her. She demanded attention, and even worse, she got it.

I, on the other hand, was twenty-six, exhausted, and still trying to convince myself that working for her was a step toward my dream rather than a slow, calculated erasure of it.

“You should be grateful,” my best friend had told me when I landed this job. “Celeste Laurent is a library legend. Think of the connections! The industry knowledge!”

Yeah. The knowledge that no one takes you seriously when you’re the person fetching dry cleaning and fixing wifi connections.

That’s how I ended up here – at one of the most exclusive resort chains in the world, surrounded by ridiculous wealth, ridiculous egos, and ridiculous men who wore linen suits unironically – with no manuscript, no articles, no actual work of my own to show for the last two years of my life.

Celeste’s nasally voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“Gemma, stop standing around. We have a suite to get to. And I’m going to need a Negroni before I unpack – why does check-in always take so long? Is it a global conspiracy against successful people?”

I sighed, adjusting the strap of my bag. This was going to be a long trip.

The check-in desk at the Villa Fiorella Resort & Spa was a pristine marble monstrosity, its sleek Italian design almost mocking me for how out of place I felt. The air smelled expensive – some kind of citrus-and-bergamot scent pumped through hidden vents, designed to lull you into thinking life was effortless when, in reality, some underpaid assistant had probably spent three hours this morning ensuring that the ambience of wealth and success remained undisturbed.

“Welcome to Villa Fiorella,” the concierge purred in a silky Italian accent, flashing a smile so polished it belonged in an ad for luxury travel. “Checking in?”

Before I could open my mouth, Celeste swept forward, oversized designer sunglasses still perched on her face despite being indoors. She had perfected the aura of don’t waste my time years ago, and she wielded it now like a weapon.

“Celeste Laurent. Presidential suite.” She didn’t bother with pleasantries. Celeste didn’t ask for things – she expected them to materialize in front of her.

The concierge’s smile faltered. Here we go…

“Ah, yes, Ms. Laurent. However, there was a slight adjustment to the suite allocation –”

I winced preemptively.

Celeste’s head tilted slightly, her lips pursing in the way they did when she sensed incompetence. “An adjustment?” she repeated, the temperature in the lobby seeming to drop.

I was already pulling out my phone, opening my email, bracing for impact.

“There was an unexpected extension of a VIP guest’s stay in the suite you originally booked,” the concierge explained, shifting his weight. “But we have upgraded you to a penthouse villa with a private infinity pool, which I can assure you is –”

“Upgraded?” Celeste scoffed. “I booked the presidential suite six months ago. You expect me to believe it’s no longer available? For who?”

“I’m afraid we can’t disclose –”

“Let me guess. Some man who threw money at you last minute? A footballer? A tech billionaire? Someone who collects yachts instead of books?”

This was Celeste’s favorite game – intellectual elitism mixed with barely disguised disdain for anyone who had more money than her.

The concierge’s composure wavered. “I can assure you, Ms. Laurent, the penthouse villa is actually more spacious and offers –”

“Gemma.”

Oh no.

“Fix this.”

There it was. My cue.

I swallowed my sigh and stepped forward with my best ‘I apologize for my employer’ smile.

“I do understand the… misunderstanding,” I said smoothly, as if Celeste weren’t radiating do you know who I am energy beside me. “We appreciate your help, and I’m sure we can find a solution that works for everyone.”

The concierge visibly relaxed, as most people did when I stepped in. I was the soft buffer between Celeste’s unfiltered chaos and the real world. The translator for her literary-goddess-turned-tyrant persona.

“I will personally make sure everything is to her satisfaction,” I added. “And perhaps… some complimentary drinks while we get settled?”

The concierge jumped at the peace offering, glancing between me and Celeste. “Of course, signorina! The bar is at your disposal.”

Celeste sniffed, clearly still irritated, but accepted the free drinks as a temporary truce.

Crisis averted. For now.

I took a steadying breath, signaling for the bellhop to grab our luggage. Maybe if I got Celeste drunk enough, she’d forget to make me rewrite and send all her email drafts before dinner. I turned back to the check-in desk – only to catch a dark pair of eyes watching me from across the room.

A man. No – a boy, no older than me. Tall, lean, with black hair that fell a little too perfectly over his forehead. He was casually elegant, draped in a linen shirt that looked effortlessly wrinkled in a way only rich people could pull off. He was standing beside a group of other guests – family, from the looks of it. They were talking, laughing, radiating the kind of relaxed ease that people like me never had.

But he wasn’t paying attention to them. He was looking at me.

And I knew this because the moment our eyes met, he smirked. Like he had just witnessed that whole interaction and found it entertaining.

I felt annoyingly warm. My pulse did a weird thing I refused to acknowledge. I quickly looked away, forcing myself to focus on the check-in process, on getting Celeste upstairs before she started a literary revolution in the lobby.

But I could still feel his gaze lingering.

And as I signed off on our room details, I heard his cousin – brother? – loudly say something in broken Italian that I didn’t understand, but I absolutely understood the tone. The universal tone of flirtation. I glanced up, just in time to see the boy roll his eyes before grabbing his leering relative by the collar and physically dragging him away.

“Apologies for him,” he called over his shoulder, giving me one last look, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

Then he was gone.

And I absolutely, definitely did not watch him walk away.

The penthouse villa was obnoxiously extravagant – floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bluest stretch of ocean I’d ever seen, crisp white linens, marble floors that my salary could never even laugh at, and a private infinity pool shimmering under the late afternoon sun.

And yet, I knew before even stepping inside that it wouldn’t be good enough for Celeste.

“Too modern,” she would say. “Too sterile. No character.” As if she weren’t the living embodiment of a New York Times op-ed about modernism’s death.

Still, I did my job. I unpacked her suitcases, lined up her vitamins, laid out her beauty products. I took a lap through the villa, checking every ridiculous detail – pillows fluffed, minibar stocked, god forbid the staff forgot her handwritten welcome note.

Everything was perfect. Which meant Celeste would find something to complain about within the first five minutes.

But that was future me’s problem. Present me had one singular goal: station Celeste at the bar and ensure that she was well on her way to being too drunk to micromanage me.

I made my way back to the lobby bar, where Celeste was already holding court on one of the plush velvet stools, sipping a Negroni and pretending to enjoy the company of men who were, I assumed, ‘important’ in some vague publishing-adjacent way.

I sat my bag down and leaned in. “Everything is ready for you in the villa. The staff is on standby for whatever you need.”

Celeste didn’t even glance at me. “Gemma, darling, don’t hover. Have a drink. Relax.”

That was Celeste’s favorite brand of condescension – telling me to relax while making it physically impossible to do so.

“You’re right. You should enjoy yourself. Call me if you need anything,” I replied smoothly, already backing away. The best way to handle Celeste sometimes was to leave her to her own devices. By my estimation, she’d be three drinks deep in twenty minutes, possibly on the verge of drunkenly calling an ex-husband or just fully passing out on her ultra-king size mattress.

Which meant I had exactly one small window of freedom. And I took my chance.

The resort’s outdoor terrace was quiet, the sun dipping lower, casting gold across the rolling waves. I settled into a lounge chair, pulled out my phone, and started going over the itinerary for the next week. Celeste was notoriously unpredictable, but I had planned this trip down to the minute, balancing appearances, workshops, and just enough leisure to keep her from snapping.

Tomorrow, Celeste would attend the welcome dinner hosted by the resort, a mix of media personalities and publishing execs that she would either love or emotionally eviscerate. That left the majority of the daytime free, which I assumed she would fill with spa treatments or day drinking. Tuesday she would attend a Q&A event at a historic Italian library, Wednesday a boat tour, and Thursday through Sunday would be the literary retreat – the entire reason she was here. An elite event filled with authors, critics, and self-proclaimed visionaries who would spend hours discussing narrative structure while sipping wine that cost more than my rent.

I scrolled through my notes, mentally adjusting for potential crises, making sure I was ten steps ahead of whatever bullshit Celeste would inevitably throw my way. I had built my entire career around managing chaos. I knew how to stay in control.

And yet…

Something pulled my focus. Movement just beyond the terrace – a small group of men passing through the courtyard, speaking in low, easy laughter.

And there he was. Linen shirt. Messy dark hair. That same amused, sharp gaze.

I froze, watching as he strode past with his relatives, all of them radiating the kind of effortless confidence that came with being both rich and stupidly good-looking.

And he was looking at me, again. He hesitated, just for a second, just long enough for me to notice, like he wanted to stop, like he wanted to say something. But before he could, one of his cousins grabbed his arm, pulling him into the conversation, dragging him forward. He glanced back one last time before disappearing around the corner.

I felt my lips quirk. It was the smallest reaction – barely there – but undeniable.

A spark. Of what, I wasn’t sure. Excitement? Curiosity? Something else entirely?

I exhaled, shaking it off, forcing myself back into my itinerary. I had more important things to focus on.

But still… I caught myself tapping my fingers against my phone screen, barely absorbing the words in front of me. Because now, in the back of my mind, there was a boy with dark eyes and a smile that felt like a secret. And I wanted to know what it was.

By the time I made it back to Celeste’s villa, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, casting the resort in a hazy glow of dimly lit lanterns and distant laughter. I braced myself before stepping inside, mentally preparing for whatever state she’d be in – throwing a tantrum, complaining about the air conditioning, or, worst-case scenario, bored and looking for someone to torment.

But when I walked in, I found her in a rare form of calm. She was curled up on the sprawling white sofa, robe loosely tied around her waist, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that almost made her look approachable. A half-empty tumbler of something expensive rested on the glass coffee table beside an open leather notebook, where she had been actually writing.

Celeste barely looked up as I walked in, lazily flipping a page. “Oh, there you are. Thought maybe you finally ran away.”

“I wish,” I muttered, setting my bag down.

She smirked. “If you were going to quit, you would’ve done it ages ago. You love me too much.”

“Love is a strong word.”

“Fine. You tolerate me. But don’t pretend you won’t miss the chaos when you finally leave.”

I scoffed but didn’t argue. Celeste had an annoyingly sharp way of reading people – when she wasn’t busy being insufferable. For a moment, there was just silence. The sounds of the waves outside, the soft flick of a page turning. It was weird. Unsettling, even. Celeste being quiet meant she was either deeply focused or on the brink of passing out.

“You’re actually writing?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Obviously,” she drawled, taking another slow sip of her drink.

“Wow. A whole paragraph? That’s impressive.”

“Watch it, Parker.” She arched a brow but didn’t seem annoyed – which was always a good sign.

I sighed, toeing off my shoes as I sat on the opposite end of the couch. “So, you’re in a good mood. Should I be concerned?”

Celeste smirked. “I’m relaxed. This place isn’t so bad. The villa has a certain… minimalist charm.”

I nearly laughed. Minimalist charm. This was the closest she’d ever come to admitting she liked something. “And let me guess,” I teased. “This mood has nothing to do with the alcohol?”

“Oh, darling, it has everything to do with the alcohol.”

This time I laughed. I rolled my eyes, but she wasn’t wrong. Celeste could be an absolute nightmare, but when she was tipsy – just the right level of drunk – she softened. The sharp edges dulled. The version of her that had once been young and idealistic and actually excited about writing peeked through.

“I want to go on the tour tomorrow. The one the resort hosts,” she announced suddenly. “Move anything important to later so I can soak up the history of this place. Oh, and get me another bottle of this before you go.”

I nodded, glad I had reviewed her itinerary to know she didn’t have anything planned until tomorrow evening, which left her day wide open to join whatever tour she was referencing. “Anything else, Your Highness?”

“Maybe a breakfast spread.”

“Of course. Only the best for you.”

She clinked her glass against the air in a mock cheers, already shifting back to her notebook.

I stood, stretching. “Try not to die in your sleep or anything.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Parker. Besides, you’d miss me.”

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, heading for the door. It was one of those rare moments where I remembered why I hadn’t quit yet. Because Celeste, for all her flaws, was still one of the most brilliant minds in publishing. She had clawed her way up, built an empire of words, and somehow, someway, I had ended up in her orbit.

Maybe, if I stuck around long enough, I’d figure out how to do the same.

By the time I had finished settling everything for Celeste – confirming her addition to the tour hosted by the resort, ensuring her breakfast would be delivered right when she woke up, and bribing the concierge with my most charming smile to keep a running tab on her preferences – I was exhausted.

I made my way to my own suite, smaller, tucked away, and far less extravagant, but mercifully quiet. It was one of the few perks of my job – Celeste traveled like royalty, and her staff, though severely underpaid, at least got decent accommodations.

I kicked off my shoes, rolled my stiff shoulders, and exhaled slowly. Then, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time.

I pulled out my laptop, opened a blank document, and stared at it.

The cursor blinked. I tried to write. But nothing came.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, waiting for the words, for something to hit me, for the feeling I used to get – when stories lived in my head, begging to be let out. But all I could think about was itineraries. Reservations. Celeste’s fucking coffee order.

I had spent so long managing someone else’s life that I had lost my own voice.

After an hour of getting exactly nowhere, I sighed, slamming the laptop shut.

I needed air.

The resort had its fair share of late-night drinkers and wealthy couples meandering about, but the beach itself was nearly deserted. It stretched wide and empty under the glow of the moon, the sand still warm beneath my feet. The waves rolled lazily onto the shore, a soothing hum against the otherwise quiet night.

I walked, letting the weight of the day slip off my shoulders. Celeste. My job. The gnawing frustration of feeling stuck, uninspired, unseen. How had I gotten here? This wasn’t the dream.

The dream had been bylines, published articles, stories that mattered. The dream had been words flowing freely, not gathering dust at the back of my mind while I booked spa appointments for a woman who could barely even send an email.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I was the problem. Maybe I had let myself disappear. I sank onto the sand, pulling my knees to my chest, watching the waves as if they might have answers.

And then – a flicker of red.

A tiny, moving speck of light in the distance.

At first, I thought I was imagining it – some reflection of the moon, a trick of my tired mind. But no, it was real. A little red flashlight, weaving slowly along the shoreline. I frowned, watching it drift closer.

Then, I saw him. The boy from earlier. Linen shirt, knowing smirk, stolen glances. He was alone, moving at a slow, unhurried pace, the red light swaying lazily with each step. And before I could scramble away, he saw me, too.

I froze as he approached me, watching as he hesitated for a moment. Then, in a voice lower, softer than I expected, he asked, “Would you like some company?”

I sized him up, letting the moment stretch between us. Up close, he was even more unfairly pretty than I had initially realized. The kind of good looks that felt unintentional – sharp jawline softened by the dim glow of the moon, dark hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it absentmindedly. His linen shirt was unbuttoned just enough to make me suspect he had absolutely no concept of the word effort, of trying too hard. He didn’t need to.

But what caught me off guard wasn’t any of that. It was the way he looked at me – like he was curious. Like he wasn’t just offering polite conversation to be nice. Like he actually wanted to be here.

I considered saying no. I didn’t do vacation flings. I didn’t do getting to know beautiful strangers on the beach in the middle of the night.

But then I thought about how exhausted I was with being practical. About how I had spent the last two years watching Celeste live her life while mine shrank into a series of itineraries and coffee runs.

And then I thought – fuck it.

“Sure,” I said, patting the sand beside me.

His eyes lit up, and I watched as the corner of his mouth quirked, amused, like he knew I had just fought some internal battle before making my decision. Smug. I should’ve been annoyed, but instead, I found myself biting back a smile.

He lowered himself onto the sand, stretching his legs out in front of him, leaning back onto his palms like he belonged anywhere he sat. “So,” he said, tilting his head toward me. “Do I get a name?”

“That depends,” I said, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “Do I?”

His grin widened. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin. That name suited him. I let it settle in my mind before offering mine. “Gemma.”

“Gemma,” he repeated, slow and thoughtful, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. Something about the way he said it made my stomach do a weird, annoying flip.

I cleared my throat, gesturing to the flashlight in his hand. “And what’s with the red light, exactly? You planning some kind of secret heist?”

Hyunjin chuckled, holding it up between us. “Nothing that exciting. I heard red light is best to use during turtle hatching season. It doesn’t confuse them like regular flashlights.”

I blinked, caught off guard again. “Wait. You’re telling me you’re out here… searching for baby turtles?”

“Obviously,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I studied him for a long moment. The soft glow of the red light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw. I could make out a tiny mole right beneath his eye. “Huh,” I murmured.

“Huh?” he echoed, arching a brow.

“I just wouldn’t have guessed ��turtle enthusiast’ when I first saw you.”

He smirked. “And what would you have guessed?”

“I don’t know,” I mused, pretending to think. “Maybe ‘trust fund kid who collects expensive sneakers and doesn’t know how to do laundry.’”

Hyunjin barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. “You wound me, Gemma,” he said dramatically, hand over his chest.

“I’m just saying, you’ve got a bit of a look.”

“A look?”

“Yeah. This whole ‘I-woke-up-like-this-and-have-never-worked-a-day-in-my-life’ aesthetic.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Maybe I just have good genetics.”

“Right,” I muttered, shaking my head.

He grinned, studying me in return, as if he was also trying to figure me out. “And you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “What’s your ‘look?’”

I shrugged. “‘Overworked personal assistant in a constant state of existential crisis.’”

He chuckled. “Sounds exhausting.”

“You have no idea.”

For a while, we just sat there, the ocean stretching endlessly before us, waves rolling in and out, the space between us shrinking without either of us moving.

I should’ve been back in my room. I should’ve been asleep, resting up for another day of playing Celeste’s shadow. But instead, I was on a beach with a boy I didn’t know, watching his red flashlight flicker across the sand. He had this way of looking at me – not quite intense, not quite teasing, but something in between. Something that made me feel like he saw more than I wanted him to.

“So,” I said, tilting my head at him, trying to get my bearings. “What’s a turtle enthusiast like yourself doing here in Italy?”

“Family reunion,” he answered easily, dragging his fingers through the sand. “My grandfather’s Italian. My grandmother’s Korean. They met in Milan, moved to Seoul, had my dad, et cetera et cetera, and now here we are – visiting my dad’s roots.”

I blinked, surprised. “So you’re like, a quarter Italian?”

“That would be the math, yeah.”

“Huh.” I took a good look at him. The sharp cheekbones, the full lips, the dark features – it all made sense now. “That explains a lot.”

He smirked. “Like what?”

“Like why you look like a Renaissance painting but also like you could headline a K-pop group.”

Hyunjin laughed, loud and unrestrained, and I had the distinct, annoying thought that I might get addicted to the sound.

“Well,” he mused, watching me now with interest, “that would be fitting, considering I’m an artist.”

That made me pause. Artist?

“Oh?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Like… you paint?”

“Sometimes. But mostly dance.”

Of course he dances. Of course he does.

“Seriously?” I tried to picture it, but the image was way too appealing, so I immediately shut it down. “Like, ballet? Ballroom? Hip-hop?”

“A little bit of everything,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair, making it even messier than before. “I’m still figuring it out.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself.

“What?” He turned toward me, amused.

“Nothing,” I said, a little too fast.

His eyes narrowed slightly, reading me too easily. “No, tell me.”

I exhaled, giving him a pointed look. “It must be nice.”

“What must be nice?”

“Having the luxury of ‘figuring it out.’”

His expression shifted – just a flicker, a small twitch of his lips, before he smirked like he knew exactly where my mind had gone. “Ah,” he said, nodding slowly. “So that’s what this is about.”

I stiffened. “What what is about?”

“You think I’m some cushy rich kid who gets to float through life with no consequences.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but… well.

I wasn’t not thinking that.

“Am I wrong?” he teased, tilting his head.

“I just…” I exhaled, fighting the irritation creeping up my spine. “It’s hard not to be jealous of someone who gets to pursue their passions without worrying about, you know… survival.”

Hyunjin hummed, considering this. “So, what’s your passion, then?”

“Writing,” I admitted before I could overthink it. “I want to be a journalist.”

“And instead, you work for…?”

“Celeste Laurent.”

His eyebrows lifted. “The Celeste Laurent?”

“The one and only.”

“Damn.” He let out a low whistle. “That’s intense. No wonder you look like you need a vacation.”

I huffed a laugh. “I wish this was a vacation.”

“I take it your boss is a nightmare?”

“On a scale of one to Satan? She’s at least a solid eight and a half.”

Hyunjin chuckled, but there was something thoughtful in his gaze now.

“And you think if you grind hard enough, you’ll get your shot?” he asked.

“That’s the plan,” I said, even though it didn’t sound as convincing out loud as it used to in my head.

There was a beat of silence. His gaze flickered over to my face, lingering a little longer than necessary. “You should let yourself breathe a little, you know.”

“And do what? Walk the beach with a stranger at midnight?”

“Exactly.” His smirk was entirely too self-satisfied, and before I could think better of it, I reached over and snatched the red flashlight out of his hand.

“Hey!” he protested, laughing.

“If you’re going to lecture me, the least you can do is let me use the fun toy,” I said, clicking it on and waving the little red beam across the sand.

“Fun toy?” he repeated, offended. “This is top-tier turtle conservation technology!”

“Oh, of course. My mistake. I’m honored to be in the presence of such an elite environmentalist.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, but he was grinning.

His gaze softened then, something fonder, heavier behind it. “You know,” he said, voice a little lower now. “You’re kind of cute when you’re not scowling at me.”

I stiffened, pulse skipping for just a second. “I do not scowl,” I shot back, choosing to focus on that instead of the heat creeping up my neck.

“Mmm.” He tipped his head to the side, considering. “I don’t know, Gemma. I’ve seen a lot of scowling.”

“Well, maybe that says more about you than me.”

“Maybe,” he said easily. “Or maybe I just like seeing you try to hide that you’re enjoying this.”

I turned toward him fully, meeting his gaze head-on. Big mistake.

Because up close, with the moonlight in his eyes and the lazy tilt of his smirk, he was unbelievably handsome.

And he knew it.

I huffed, handing back his flashlight before I did something stupid, like let myself actually flirt back. “Go find your turtles, Romeo,” I muttered, shaking my head.

He just grinned, clicking the flashlight on and off and waving it over the sand. “If I find one, you’re naming it.”

Hyunjin suddenly stood up, brushing sand off his pants, then turned to me and offered his hand. “Come on,” he said, palm open, fingers waiting. “Walk with me.”

I raised a skeptical brow. “Why?”

“Because,” he smirked, tilting his head toward the shore, “I know where the turtle nests are. If we’re lucky, we might see some hatching.”

I glanced at the flashlight now clutched in his other hand, the red glow softly illuminating the sand. “You’re really committed to this, huh?”

“Someone’s gotta care about the great turtle births of the Italian coast,” he quipped. “Maybe you can write an article about it. ‘An Exclusive Look at Nature’s Most Underrated Spectacle.’”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the way my lips twitched upward. “That’s a terrible headline.”

“You’re right. Should probably workshop it.” His grin widened. “Walk with me anyway.”

I hesitated, looking at his outstretched hand.

It would be easy for me to say no. To tell him I was tired, that I had to work tomorrow. That I didn’t have time to go gallivanting through the sand at midnight with a boy who smiled like he was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

But then I thought about the blank page of my laptop, the way my chest had felt too tight all day, how much I needed something – anything – to remind me why I even wanted to write in the first place.

And maybe – just maybe – this was it.

I exhaled, placing my hand in his.

His fingers curled around mine, warm, steady.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But if I trip in the dark and die, I’m haunting you forever.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he said, smirking as he pulled me up.

We strolled along the beach, the quiet hum of waves filling the spaces between us. Hyunjin kept the red flashlight low, sweeping it gently over the sand, scanning for signs of movement. “So,” he said, glancing at me. “Where’s home for you?”

I hesitated, tucking my hands into the sleeves of my cardigan. “New York. Born and raised.”

“That tracks.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, side-eyeing him.

“Just that you’ve got that whole no-nonsense city girl thing going for you.”

“And you’ve got the rich boy on vacation trying to ‘find himself’ thing.”

He let out a sharp laugh, head tipping back. “Okay, fair. But for the record, I didn’t come here to find myself. I came because my family basically forced me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know how it is – big family, overbearing relatives, everyone wanting you to be something you’re not.”

I huffed. “Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

He cast me a knowing look. “Right. Your whole life is obviously completely put together.”

“Exactly,” I deadpanned.

Hyunjin chuckled, then kicked at the sand, thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I always thought being an artist would be enough for me, but my family… they don’t really get it.”

“You mean they don’t think art is a real job?”

“Bingo.”

I frowned. Somehow, I had expected his family to be fully supportive – cushy rich kid, endless opportunities. But now, I wasn’t so sure. “I think that’s a universal experience,” I muttered, watching the waves. “Parents being… disappointed in your career choices.”

“Yeah?” he nudged me lightly. “What did yours want you to be?”

“Something stable.” I shrugged. “Doctor, lawyer, something that actually makes money.”

“But you chose journalism.”

“I chose writing,” I corrected. “I just figured journalism was the most practical way to do it.”

He hummed in response, like he understood exactly what I meant. And somehow, that made me feel lighter.

“So what kind of stuff do you want to write?” he asked.

I hesitated. When was the last time someone had actually asked me that?

“I used to want to do investigative pieces,” I admitted. “The kind that actually matter. Exposing corruption, bringing stories to light, making a difference.”

Hyunjin tilted his head. Something about his gaze made me feel… seen. “And now?” he asked, voice softer.

I sighed. “Now I write very professional emails all day and manage the emotional instability of a literary icon.”

“Well, that sounds thrilling.”

“Oh, it’s a dream come true.”

His grin returned, teasing, but his eyes stayed thoughtful. “You should write something,” he said, flipping a shell in the sand with his foot. “Not for work. Just for you.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Maybe,” he said, glancing at me again, “but you don’t seem like someone who gives up that easily.”

The words hit deeper than I wanted them to. I swallowed. Looked away. “Well,” I said, clearing my throat, deflecting, “if I’m ever desperate, at least I know I can write about turtle conservation.”

He chuckled. “Hey, don’t knock it. These guys deserve their time in the spotlight.”

“Right. What would the world do without ‘the great turtle births of the Italian coast?’”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

I laughed, genuinely, fully, for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Wait –” Hyunjin froze, grabbing my arm gently, stopping me in my tracks. I stilled, heart skipping, but not because of him this time. Because just ahead of us, in the sand, something small was moving.

He crouched down, flicking the red flashlight toward it, his smile slow and spreading. “Looks like you might actually get to name one.”

The movement stopped for a second, then scuttled forward again – but instead of tiny turtle flippers, a pair of long, spindly legs stretched toward the moonlight. A crab.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair. “False alarm.”

“What, are you disappointed?” I teased, nudging his side lightly.

“I mean, a baby turtle hatching would’ve been a moment, you know?” he said, folding his arms. “This guy’s just… vibing.”

I ignored him, already crouching down, watching as the tiny crab hustled sideways across the sand with impressive determination. “I like him,” I said, smiling despite myself. “He’s got places to be.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Should we name him, then?”

I thought for a second. “Hmm… he kinda looks like a Bernard.”

“Bernard?”

“Yeah, like… sophisticated. Business crab. Family man.”

Hyunjin grinned. “So you think he’s got a whole life out there?”

“Absolutely.” I nodded. “Wife, kids, a nine-to-five in the seaweed industry. This guy is booked and busy.”

“Damn.” He let out a low whistle. “Respect to Bernard.”

We watched as Bernard scurried toward the waves, disappearing into the foam like a tiny little soldier returning home.

For some reason, it made something in my chest ache.

I cleared my throat and stood, brushing the sand from my hands. When I turned, Hyunjin was already looking at me. Not just looking – watching. The kind of quiet admiration that made my stomach do something stupid. “What?” I asked, raising a brow.

He shook his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Nothing. Just didn’t take you for a crab enthusiast.”

“I contain multitudes.”

“Clearly.”

We stood there for a beat too long – both of us still, the space between us small enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. He was close enough that I could see the moonlight reflecting in the slight sheen of humidity on his collarbone, the way the night breeze shifted his hair just slightly. Close enough that my gaze drifted to his lips, unbidden, unintentional.

I wondered – for less than a second – what it might be like to kiss him. If he’d be slow about it, teasing, letting it build just to see if I’d get impatient. If he’d take his time, deliberate and confident, the same way he moved, like he already knew the outcome.

The thought startled me, caught me off guard for the third time that night.

And yet… I didn’t step back.

Instead, Hyunjin did something worse – he stepped closer.

Not enough to touch, but enough that the air between us felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to come back for a drink or something,” he murmured, voice smooth, easy, almost teasing. “But now I’m worried that Bernard set the bar too high.”

I barely had time to smirk before my phone rang.

Loud. Abrasive. Reality slamming between us like a wall.

I jolted, startled by the sound, by how instantly the moment shattered.

Hyunjin leaned back just slightly, exhaling through his nose, shaking his head with a half-smile like he should’ve expected it.

I barely glanced at the screen before muttering, “It’s Celeste. I have to go.”

Hyunjin watched me for a second, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then, with a slow nod, he stepped back. “Duty calls,” he said lightly, but the warmth from before had dimmed just slightly.

I hesitated, phone still buzzing in my hand. Some part of me wanted to stay.

But instead, I forced a smile, turned on my heel, and started walking back towards the resort – leaving behind the ocean, the moonlight, and the boy with the red flashlight who had almost convinced me to forget everything else.

I power-walked back to my room, cheeks still burning from Hyunjin and his stupid, stupid smirk. The way he looked at me. The way he stepped closer, like he was about to say something that would’ve unraveled me completely. The way I had actually wondered, even for just a second, what kissing him would be like.

I exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away as I slipped into my suite, pressing my cool fingers to my too-warm face. “Get it together, Parker,” I muttered under my breath.

I crossed the room in three strides, heading straight for the mini bar. I yanked it open, wincing at the overpriced selection before grabbing the first tiny bottle of vodka I could find.

One sip. Two. I winced again, swallowing hard. Great. Now my face was burning for an entirely different reason.

I collapsed on the edge of the bed, phone still clutched in my hand. I wasn’t sure why I lied to Hyunjin, why I said Celeste was calling when in fact, it was my mother. The missed call sat on my screen, glaring up at me.

With a sigh, I redialed. It barely rang once before she picked up.

“Gemmy!” my mom’s voice greeted me, warm and familiar, like home. “I was just about to light a candle for you!”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Hi, Mom. You don’t have to light a candle every time I go on a trip, you know.”

“Excuse me,” she said, feigning offense. “Cleansing your energy is very important, missy. You’re surrounded by wealthy people and entitled egos – you don’t want that energy leeching onto you.”

“Too late for that,” I muttered, rubbing my temple.

“How’s Italy?” she asked, genuinely excited. “Did you see anything amazing yet? How’s Celeste? Any existential breakdowns yet?”

I huffed a small laugh. “So far, she’s only at one minor tantrum and two unnecessarily dramatic monologues, so we’re pacing ourselves.”

“That’s actually impressive restraint for her.”

“Right? I think the Negronis are helping.”

Mom laughed, and for a moment, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.

“Tell me everything,” she said. “What’s the resort like?”

I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes. “It’s… surreal. It’s exactly the kind of place people like Celeste thrive in – stupidly luxurious, way too polished, the kind of resort where they manufacture the atmosphere to make you feel like your life is perfect.”

“And is it working?”

I hesitated. Because honestly? I hadn’t let myself enjoy it. Not really.

But then I thought about Hyunjin and the way the moon reflected in his eyes, the sound of his laugh against the ocean, the way he looked at me like he was actually interested in what I had to say.

And okay, maybe for a second, I had let myself enjoy it.

“It’s… nice,” I admitted, “in a fantasy sort of way.”

“Mmm, I hear something in your voice.”

Her sing-song tone made me roll my eyes. “Here we go.”

“Gemmy,” Mom said knowingly, “are you getting into trouble?”

“Not yet,” I said, but I didn’t sound convincing.

“You met someone.”

I groaned. “How do you know that?”

“I’m your mother, that’s how. And also, my tarot reading this morning said something about unexpected romantic entanglements, so spill.”

I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let it go. “It’s not a thing, okay? I met a guy. He’s… interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

“Korean-Italian. Stupidly good-looking. Too charming for his own good.”

“Oooooh, Gemma!”

“Don’t ‘ooooh, Gemma’ me.”

“Sweetheart, I have never heard you call a man ‘stupidly good-looking’ before. This is a milestone.”

“Oh my god.” I pressed a palm to my forehead. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Too late!” She sing-songed again. “So, what’s his deal?”

“Aspiring artist. Dancer. Rich family. They’re here for some big reunion, reconnecting with their Italian roots or whatever.”

“A rich artist? Oh, honey, that’s a dangerous combination.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered.

“But?”

I hesitated again.

Because despite every single reason I should keep my distance, I really liked talking to him.

More than that – I related to him. Sure, he had the luxury of financial freedom, but he still had pressure. Expectations. The fear of not being good enough. And that wasn’t something I could talk to a lot of people about.

“But…” I exhaled. “I don’t know. It’s nothing. Just a conversation on the beach.”

“Mmm. Still, I wouldn’t ignore it.”

“You think this is fate or something?”

“I think this trip is going to be big for you,” Mom said, suddenly serious. “I feel it.”

“You always say that.”

“And I’m never wrong.”

I sighed, but I couldn’t help but smile. Because as much as my mom drove me crazy sometimes, she was always reliably my mom.

She had been through so much – losing Dad when I was thirteen, struggling through her own mental health crisis after that, working jobs she hated just to make sure I never went without.

And now, she was stronger, softer in a way she never used to be. She had her spirituality, her tarot cards, her sage-burning rituals, and full-moon intentions.

And she had me.

“Well,” I said, pulling the blankets up around me, “we’ll see what happens.”

“Just don’t get too distracted,” Mom warned, but not unkindly. “Celeste still needs your attention.”

“Trust me, that’s never in danger.”

“Good. Now get some rest. You have a big week ahead of you.”

I nodded, letting my eyes droop. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you more, sweet girl.”

I hung up, exhaling slowly, my mind still racing. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe something was coming.

I just didn’t know if I was ready for it.

I stared at the ceiling, begging my mind to quiet down. Because no matter how much I tried to push it away, I kept thinking about him. Hyunjin. His smirk, his smile, the way he watched me like I was something worth paying attention to. The way he had stepped closer, the space between us narrowing like something inevitable.

And, of course, his damn red flashlight.

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed, then stood and shuffled toward the bathroom, rubbing my face to cool the warmth still lingering on my cheeks. A quick, half-hearted skincare routine. A long sip of water. Then I brushed my teeth and slipped into the softest, most unremarkable sleep shirt I owned. By the time I climbed into bed, I did what any rational person would do.

I grabbed my phone and googled: ‘Sea turtles in the Mediterranean.’

Great. Now I was committed to this, too.

I tapped the first article that popped up. Something about nesting habits, hatching seasons, conservation efforts.

‘Sea turtles have an extraordinary ability to return to the beaches where they were born, guided by the Earth’s magnetic field – a phenomenon known as natal homing.’

I frowned, rereading that line. Returning to where they were born. Following some invisible pull in the sand, like they already knew where they were meant to go.

Lucky them.

My eyes flicked to the red light of my charging cable, and for some reason, I imagined it flickering across the beach. Imagined Hyunjin, walking alone in the dark, scanning the sand, completely content in his own little world.

I sighed. Ridiculous.

And yet, as I curled into my pillow, letting the words on my screen blur, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I’d met him for a reason. Maybe Mom was right, maybe something was coming.

But that was tomorrow’s problem.

Tonight, I let my phone slip from my fingers, my eyelids heavy, the glow of the screen fading as sleep pulled me under.

#cybergracie writes #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x oc #hyunjin fanfic #skz #stray kids #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #the white lotus #IM SO NERVOUS ABOUT THIS OMG

21 notes · View notes

quokkicidal · 3 days ago

Text

L.M. | Husband Material

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Warnings: None

Pairing: non-idol!Minho x gn!reader

A/N: Not a full on story, just some little blurbs :)

Requests open

Materlist

The kitchen smelled of your favorite breakfast, being cooked by your one and only Minho. He offered to make it because that’s just how he shows his love. Small gestures that build up, and you can’t help but to feel so lucky.

He looked at where you were sitting at the kitchen island and said, “How do you want your eggs?”

“Hmm, scrambled please!”

He just nodded his head and continued cooking. He started humming as he brought your food to you, placing the plate on the table and a kiss on the top of your head. You said thank you and he sat down and ate with you. He was the only person in your life that you could tell everything. He made you feel so safe and you truly cherish all the moments you have together, even the simple ones like these.

———

In the grocery store, Minho pushed the cart. Not because he wanted to, but he knows that if you pushed it you guys would be getting way more than what you needed. “Alright, next on the list is beef.” He said reading from the list you and him worked on together.

“Let’s go to the freezer isle then, and we can pick up some ice cream while we’re over there and we can have a movie night!” Minho smiled at your enthusiasm for movie nights and ice cream. It’s one of his favorite nights because you guys cuddle and make fun of movies together. One time you were watching Benji and Minho was trying his hardest not to cry, but there’s just something about animals in a sad setting that really pull at his heart stings. Of course you were crying too, who wouldn’t. But every time you bring it up to tease him, he always says, “You were crying more than I was!” When in reality he cried harder than you.

———

If you’re having a bad day at work, he’ll make sure to run you a bath before you get home. Filled with your favorite bath soap and your favorite candle lit on the counter. Despite what his friends see, he truly is a romantic at heart. Acts of service is definitely his love language. Before you get out of the bth, he’s already handing you a towel he previously tossed in the dryer to warm it up. He truly treats you like you’re a queen. You Al’s do the same for him, but in a different way. If you wake up before him, you make sure to make breakfast for the both of you and you iron his clothes if he has to dress formal. You know it’s not needed but he appreciates the crisp fold of a white button up.

———

Date nights are always looked forward to between you two. Whether you’re just going out to lunch, or you’re going to a full on five star restaurant. You tell him that he doesn’t need to do all this, but he’s planning something. As you both finish your dinner you share a dessert, which he lets you choose, he makes small talk. To be honest, he’s a bit nervous. He feels so safe around you, enough to let his guard down. When you first met him, you never would’ve expected being one of the few people that he lets in his bubble, but you are so happy that it ended up this way. The waiter eventually comes back to the table, and asks you guys to come with him. The waiter led you both to a back secluded garden area, which was absolutely beautiful. It was covered with flowers and even had a fountain. You stop by the fountain marveling at the work, and beside you, Minho gets down on one knee. As you turn, you couldn’t help but to start tearing up. “Oh my god, is this what I think it is?”

He nervously smiled, “Only if your answer is yes?” You couldn’t believe it, “These past three years have been the best three years I could have asked for. You truly are someone so special to me and i wouldn’t want to live the rest of my life if you weren’t by my side, will you marry me?”

By this time, you are full on waterworks, “Yes yes yes, of course I’ll marry you!” He put the ring on your finger and hugged you like it would be the last time he saw you. Through tears he says, “I love you, i love you so much.”

You laugh and say, “I love you too, and I always will.”

#skz masterlist #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho #lee minho x reader #skz hyung line #skz fluff #skz #stray kids #stray kids minho #fluff #kpop

57 notes · View notes

sunshineangel0 · 7 hours ago

Text

MOCHI & BEAN 🥐 bakery and cafe

Chi Nakamura is the bright, effortlessly warm owner of Mochi & Bean, a small bakery café in downtown Seoul. Cheery, witty, and caring to a fault, she thrives on early mornings and the slow, cozy moments before the city fully wakes up. When a quiet, hoodie-wearing regular starts showing up every single morning at 5:30 AM, she does what she does best: welcomes him in with a smile.

Bang Chan has spent years balancing music, leadership, and an impossible schedule. His life is a constant cycle of studio sessions, sleepless nights, and responsibilities that never end. But then he finds Mochi & Bean. And it´s caring and sweet owner, Chi.

chapters

one

two

three

four

five

skz general tags: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789

(if you want to be added to my taglist, please comment under the post.)

27 notes · View notes

vvvvalesss · 16 hours ago

Text

felix

34 notes · View notes

ivyues · 2 days ago

Text

Chauffeur Duties | 4 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

After a sudden downpour, your brother picked you up, leading to a confrontation with your boyfriend, Seungmin.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/N: many thanks to 🩵 for the ideas! <3

The rain came out of nowhere.

One moment, you were walking home, minding your own business, and the next, the sky had cracked open, drenching everything in sight. Your hoodie was no match for the sudden downpour, and within minutes, you were soaked to the bone.

Instinct took over, and before you even realized what you were doing, your fingers were already pressing your brother's contact.

"What?" Lew Know's voice came through the line, already laced with annoyance.

"Can you pick me up?" you asked, shivering slightly as you ducked under a bus stop for minimal cover.

A sigh. "Where are you?"

You sent him your location, and he grumbled something about you always being a hassle before hanging up. You knew he’d come, though. That was just Lee Know's way of showing he cared – through mild exasperation and reluctant acts of service.

Fifteen minutes later, his car pulled up, and you scrambled inside, dripping all over his passenger seat. He clicked his tongue but didn’t say anything about it, instead tossing a towel onto your lap as he pulled away from the curb.

"You better not get my seat all gross," he muttered, eyes on the road.

"I'll clean it later," you promised, toweling off my hair. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Yeah, yeah." His voice was gruff, but then he added, "You’re lucky I wasn’t busy."

You bit back a smile, choosing not to argue with him.

The ride was mostly quiet except for the hum of the engine and the occasional swish of the windshield wipers. But as you paid more attention to the streets he was taking, your stomach twisted.

He wasn’t driving towards your home. He was driving in the direction of Felix's and Seungmin’s dorm.

Panic crept in, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral.

"Where are we going?" you asked, feigning curiosity.

Lee Know gave you a side glance. "Thought you’d want to see your lap dog of a boyfriend."

You blinked at him, your grip tightening on the towel. He said it so easily, so nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he actually... cared?

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the timing of it all. On any other day, you would’ve been ecstatic – your brother showing even the slightest support for your relationship with Seungmin was nothing short of a miracle. But today? Today was different.

Because Seungmin and you had argued earlier. It wasn’t a big fight, but it left a strange weight in your chest, and you weren't ready to see him yet. Not like this, not soaking wet and emotionally scrambled. And if Lee Know knew you’d argued? Oh, he’d definitely have some choice words for Seungmin – words you weren't in the mood to mediate.

"I, uh—" you scrambled for an excuse. "I don’t want to bother him. He’s probably busy."

Lee Know snorted. "He’s probably just playing games. You’ll be fine."

Of course, Lee Know would be difficult about this. You glanced out the window, your pulse picking up as the dorms came closer. You could tell him the truth. You could tell him that you weren't in the right headspace to see Seungmin right now, that you’d had a disagreement, and you just wanted to go home.

But then he’d press for details. And if those details even slightly painted Seungmin in a bad light, Lee Know would hold onto them like ammunition. He’d never say it outright, but you knew he was protective of you in his own way, and you didn’t want to give him reasons to be wary of your relationship.

"Actually, I think I just want to go home," you said as casually as possible. "I really just want to dry off and sleep."

Lee Know side-eyed you but didn’t say anything at first. His fingers drummed against the wheel as you stopped at a red light.

Then, without a word, he changed lanes and turned towards your home instead.

Relief flooded you, but you didn’t dare let it show.

"You’re weird," Minho muttered under his breath.

You smiled slightly, hugging the towel closer. "Thanks for the ride."

He just rolled his eyes and kept driving.

-----

The next morning, you woke up to a string of messages from Seungmin. Your stomach twisted as you hesitated before unlocking your phone.

Mong Mong (10:34 PM): Hey, are you home safe?

Mong Mong (10:35 PM): I heard it started pouring. Did you get caught in it?

Mong Mong (11:49 PM): …You could’ve called me.

Mong Mong (11:51 PM): I know we argued but—

The last message trailed off. You stared at the screen, biting your lip. Guilt gnawed at you as you scrolled through his words again.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to call him. You just… You didn’t want to burden him after your disagreement. And part of you had assumed he wouldn’t have wanted to hear from you anyway.

Clearly, you’d assumed wrong.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you tapped on his contact and hit call. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice groggy with sleep.

“I am,” you answered softly. “I saw your messages.”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah. I figured you did.”

You swallowed, gripping your phone tighter. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Another pause. “Why didn’t you?”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “I… I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me after the argument. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

A soft exhale came through the speaker, and when Seungmin spoke again, his voice had lost some of its sleepiness. “Did you really think I wouldn’t care? Even if we fought, I would’ve come to get you. I wanted to.”

Your heart squeezed at his words. “I know,” you murmured. “I just— It was stupid. I called Minho.”

Seungmin made a sound, something between a scoff and a chuckle. “Of course you did.”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “The one time he actually supports this relationship – driving me to you without even asking – he picks the worst timing.”

Seungmin was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was different. “Wait. You were on your way to me?”

You bit my lip. “Yeah.”

“But… you obviously didn’t come over.” Another silence. But this time, it felt heavier.

He sounded genuinely surprised, and you could tell his mind was working through the implications. Something in his stomach tightened uncomfortably, immediately thinking the argument had cut deeper for you than he originally believed.

“It wasn’t about that,” you reassured him quickly. “I just… didn’t feel like seeing anyone. I just wanted to go home.”

“I get that,” Seungmin said, and for the first time since you answered the call, his voice held nothing but sincerity. “But next time, don’t assume I don’t want to be there for you, okay?”

Your chest ached in the best way. “Okay.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the tension from last night slowly dissipating. Then, after a moment, Seungmin spoke again.

“We still need to talk, you know. About the fight.”

Your heart stilled for a moment before you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I know.”

“Not now,” he said, almost as if he was reassuring himself as well as you. “But soon.”

You exhaled softly. “Yeah. Soon.”

“So… did you talk to Minho about it?”

You hesitated. “No. Maybe he suspects something but I didn't tell him.”

Seungmin sighed. “Should I be prepared for something at practice? He’s gonna beat me up if he finds out.”

You bit your lip, considering. “I don’t think he’ll bring it up unless he’s sure. He’ll get over it.”

Seungmin groaned. “Great. Just what I need.”

You chuckled softly, amusement lighting up the mood. A comfortable silence filled the air as the weight of the conversation eased.

Then he muttered, almost like an afterthought, “I just… I don’t want to disappoint him either.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Minho?”

He let out a quiet, almost sheepish sigh. “Yeah. I know he acts like I annoy him, but… I think he actually kind of— I don’t know. Approves of me? Or at least tolerates me as your boyfriend. If he found out we fought and thought I messed it up, he’d never let me live it down.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Oh, so that’s why you’re worried.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I just don’t need him looking at me like I kicked his cat or something.”

You laughed. “You’ll survive.”

“I better.” Seungmin huffed a laugh.

-----

The rhythmic echo of sneakers against the polished floor filled the practice room as Seungmin wiped the sweat from his forehead, rolling his shoulders to shake off the fatigue. Practice had been tough, but at least it gave him something to focus on. He took a long sip from his water bottle, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat.

Then, just as he was starting to catch his breath, Lee Know sauntered over with an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Guess who I saved yesterday," he drawled, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

Seungmin didn’t take the bait. He casually screwed the cap back onto his bottle and gave a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know. A stray cat?"

Lee Know smirked, undeterred. "You could say that – It was your dear, helpless girlfriend."

Seungmin finally turned his head, meeting Lee Know’s gaze with a carefully neutral expression. "Oh? Is that so?" he said, voice even.

Lee Know let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. "Yeah, well, pouring rain, drenched hoodie, shivering at a bus stop… It was a whole dramatic scene. They must’ve really needed help. Funny how their first instinct was to call me instead of you."

Seungmin exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to react. He knew Lee Know was testing him, poking for a reaction. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs as if completely at ease.

"Makes sense," he said smoothly. "You do have a car, after all."

Lee Know squinted at him. "That’s all you have to say?"

Seungmin lifted a brow. "What, did you want me to throw a fit?”

"A little jealousy would be nice," Lee Know mused, crossing his arms. "or do you not care whether she’s safe?"

Seungmin let out a breath of laughter. "Sorry to disappoint. But I already talked to her about it. We’re fine."

Lee Know clicked his tongue. "Boring. Can’t even get some kind of reaction out of you these days."

"And I was hoping practice would be over by now, yet here we are," Seungmin quipped, pushing off the wall and heading back towards the center of the room as the others began trickling in.

Lee Know watched him go, tilting his head slightly before calling after him, "You know, if she ever needs saving again, I’ll be ready."

Seungmin glanced back over his shoulder, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Good. That means I don’t have to worry."

Lee Know blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected response. Then he shook his head, mumbling something about ‘not being your fucking chauffeur’.

Just as Seungmin turned away, though, Lee Know’s voice came – quieter this time, almost too casual.

"You two are good, right?"

Seungmin paused for half a second before glancing back. Lee Know wasn’t looking at him anymore, already grabbing his water bottle and stretching like it was just an afterthought.

A small smile tugged at Seungmin’s lips. "Yeah. We’re good."

Lee Know didn’t say anything else, just gave an acknowledging hum before walking past him.

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.5 | masterlist

62 notes · View notes