#have u ever known me as an agent of peace đ€
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â the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.
wordsă»3.7k / pairingsă»ot8 x gn!reader / genresă»fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s), they're hopelessly in love your honor / warningsă»suggestive in minho's and jisung's, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is a little gross LMFAO
a/nă»massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (ïœĄË á” Ë )
chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and itâs just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny âstooooopâ every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.
but you like poking fun at it even more. âgod forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,â youâd say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.
fast forward however many months. heâs still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that itâs rubbed off on you.
the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. youâre almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: âso damn beautiful.â
âwhaâhuh? what is?â
âyou. your voice, your face, everything. iâm lucky.â
your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.
âlove?â no response. âwhat, uh, whatâs happening right now, exactly?â
no response. no response. then, hoarsely, âyou canât...say shit like thatâŠrandomly.â
he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, youâve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when youâre pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.
âyouâreâŠembarrassed?â
the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.
âyouâre so good to me, channie,â you sigh helplessly. âi love you.â
âlove you more, baby.â he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. âthat was very me of you, by the way.â
âi know, right? i was just about to say.â
minho + butt touching. itâs quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someoneâs buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.
but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you isâŠdifferent. doting. thereâs no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you canât sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. heâs so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).
you take it into your own hands. literally.
you donât know what prompts itâmaybe youâve simply seen minho slap his membersâ asses one too many times, or maybe youâre still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbinâs ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right placesâbut you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.
he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.
âgo get âem, tiger.â thwack!
minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.
but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what youâve just done. good. really good.
you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. âitâs like it moved on its own.â
minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, âthatâs what weâre doing now?â kisses you again, for longer this time.
you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems youâll be reaping what youâve sown from now on.
(good luck.)
changbin + the Cackleâą. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldnât expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.
your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantlyâ
âare you well?â you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until youâd been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.
thatâs how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didnât think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.
you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.
you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.Â
no, changbin doesnât say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesnât expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.
han turns around from his seat on the couch. chanâs footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.
the only thing on changbinâs face, though, is unfettered delight.
âb-baby,â he sputters with a growing smile. âare youââ
you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.
he loses it.
the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like thatâll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.
chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.
hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless himâŠand DAMN HIM.
on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; itâs a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.
on the other hand, you think thereâs a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, youâll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if youâd known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage controlâŠyouâd still date him, letâs be real. but you do get stressed at times.
the night the tables turn, youâre at a celebratory dinner for your coworkerâs birthday. small caveat: you canât stand her. sheâs the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesnât help that sheâs downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.
hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to âcough.â you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. youâre so, so grateful that heâs here, but youâre also deathly afraid that heâs gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.
then, she flirts with him.
from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that heâs yours. the whole table goes silent. hyunjinâs jaw hits the table.
your fork clatters to your plate.
FUCK time and place.
the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.
you take your boyfriendâs wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you donât say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you donât have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she mightâve started crying.
once youâre on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.
âyouâre so fucking sexy, holy shit.â
jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.
you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? youâve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.
finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.
âbaby, your mouth is open.â
you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: âwhat on earth did you just do?â
âwhat do you mean?â
âtheââ you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. ââthat.â
jisung looks aghast. âthat was LIP BALM.â
âno, i know what itâyouâre soâi meant, why do you apply it like that?â
jisung continues to look aghast. âlike what?â
âlike youâre one of socratesâ prized pupils and the answer to the universeâs formation lies at the bottom ofââ you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. ââthis tube!â
it might be the craziest thing youâve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers heâs pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. canât stay away from you to save his life, this one.
âdo i actually?â
âyes! holy shit, itâs so cute.â your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. âno way youâve always done that, right?â
âi donât know. iâve never thought about it.â a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. âam iâŠdoing it wrong?â
the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lipsâa ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actorâthen back to his eyes. letâs find out.
you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. itâs such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.
felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.
he stood by the stageâs entrance just before from curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.
it returned to the forefront right before bed.
âyou do it when youâre nervous?â
âyeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.â the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. âwanna give it a go?â
âwhat, checking my pulse?â
âmine.â
you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the worldâs gentlest tattoo.
the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.
âwell?â he whispered.
âninety-three,â you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. âyouâre nervous right now?â
he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. âsomething like that.â there were no more words exchanged that night.
the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldnât, and heâd cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.
two years have passed since, and youâve vanished from the dinner table.
felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you donât notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.Â
his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesnât need to, not anymore.
let me.
you do.
his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.
the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.Â
âwell?â you whisper.
âhundred and six,â he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.Â
he wonders if itâs a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but thereâs no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.
the earth slants under his feet.
âcrazy.â you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. âthatâs how many years i want with you.â
seungmin + poking eyes(?) heâs hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.Â
âKIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.â
do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. âheâs literally me. iâm allowed to do whatever i want with me.â
âheâs not you, heâs our son.â you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriendâs shoulder. âmy son, if you keep this up.â
âjust say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.â
upside-down, he watches you dust off puppymâs face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shitâs expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.
âiâm asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,â you say. âyouâll survive.â
but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.
âbut why do you do that, seriously?â you mutter.
âi have no idea,â he replies. âbut itâs fun. try it.â
âiâll think about it.â you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. âokay, iâve thought about it. no.â
âhate you,â he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then youâre off to work.
puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. youâd be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungminâs poking predisposition.
one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.
you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. youâre just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes whenâ
âI KNEW IT!â
you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like heâs actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, youâre under him.)
âamateur,â he tsks. âyou gotta test my breathing to make sure iâm asleep first. shitâs foolproof.â
you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.
now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.
âHOW MANY TIMES?â
jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.
âhwuck,â he grumbles, face scrunching into a brain-freeze-induced wince. âayee ith waz a bah iyeah.â (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)
âyou got this. just take it slow,â you urge, except heâs stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if heâs descending into a deep sleep. youâre actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.
he swallows, beams. âso am i the fucking best or what.â
âyeah you are,â you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss to your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.Â
âwhen are you doing that with me, by the way?â
âthe one-bite thing?â he nods. âmmm, coaches donât play.â
âmmm, this one will.â
âdoubtful.â
fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)
âthe rules!â he declares. âeat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you canât spit it out!â
you wait. âis that it?â
âyes!â
why was the delivery so grand?
jeongin places a fond hand atop his brotherâs head. âiâve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.â
you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. heâs never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.
yoon counts you off. âreadyâŠâ
âgood luck, coach,â jeongin sings.
âshut up, pipsqueak.â
âsetâŠGO!â
in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of a mouth and launches into that stupid elderly cow impression again.
desperate times call for desperate measures. you rip the orange from your lips.
âyoon! your brotherâs ticklish, right?â
both yang siblingsâ eyes widenâthe youngerâs in growing delight, the olderâs in impending horror.
the latter reacts first. âay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!â (translation: wait, wait, wait, this is against the rules!)
but the former moves first, and youâre right behind him.
jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the sides of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.
he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. but his annoyanceâ
youâre back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the outside of the orange again. âih ih eawhin, ooh.â (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)
âhuh?â (translation: huh?)
âdissipates, immediately.
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© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!
#have u ever known me as an agent of peace đ€#i love uuuu hehe iâm glad u enjoyed these#i think seungminâs and felixâs were my favorites too (lowkey learned smth about myself writing the formerâs but not ready to unpack that.)#and thank u for liking the writing style i canât believe yâall let me adhd all over ur screens and just said carry on please#APPRECIATE U ENDLESSLY let me squish ur cheeks#comments <3#*w: skz + habits
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