#skz drabbles

[strrykais]

(❤︎) do you have eight minutes?

with all the time in the world, you shouldn’t have to beg for eight minutes..

𐀔𓂃 kai's notes : im so emotional at the moment i just wanna cry. !! | back to library !

eight minutes. that's really all you wanted. eight minutes to be able to talk to him. Just those minutes of time from someone you love to feel not alone in this moment of stress and this moment of need. you never faulted felix for never having any time. his career was important to him, you knew that going in. you just hoped that you could eventually become just as important to him again.

he made you feel special when you first started talking, maybe it was because you were uncharted territory and felix always had this need to discover new things, new places, even new people. he made you feel like diamonds shimmering in his bright light, so captivating, so beautiful.

as time passed and went on you noticed a shift in the tone he would give you, for the short amount of time he could spare. you tried not to let it affect you, how could you fault him when he was doing a lot by giving you a day.

even with the time felix and you spent together you cherished it, because when you first got together he saw you, he really saw you. now you're gripping on the last string of hope, hoping that he can see you hiding in this shell of loneliness. too scared to call out, scared of losing him, because having a little piece of him is better than having nothing at all.

then unfortunately those days turned to hours, and those hours became minutes. now you could only send messages asking if he had a few minutes to spare. all you wanted was eight minutes. eight minutes to not feel like you are alone. just eight minutes to feel like you are loved. eight minutes to feel seen, you just wanted him to see you again.

but you could never find the courage to tell him, never had the heart to reach out. worried over sending a text that could change the trajectory of y'all's relationship. you gave and gave so whats the fault in giving whatever left you had to him, to hold onto the version of felix you desperately miss.

until one lonely night, as snow falls sticking to the ground. you sit on a bench as the snow dances over your red cheeks. you watched as a random boy wrapped his scarf over a random girl, their eyes shimmering with a love you used to know, a love that has now turned cold. you decided to send that text.

“do you have eight minutes?”

© strrykais

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[seungiesz]

n side!

han jisung x gn!reader

genre: angst (with a happy ending)

word count: 578

authors note: i get a lot of inspo from songs. so enjoy this one inspired by “n side” by steve lacy !

You sat at the edge of your bed,the soft hum of the city drifting in through the window. You picked up your phone from the nightstand, the glow from the screen casting a faint light across your face.

Another message from Jisung, his name lighting up the screen.

It had been weeks since you two last spoke. Your finger hovered over the reply button, but your mind couldn’t decide what to do.

The words from his text echoed in your head. It was so Jisung—confident, yet vulnerable in his own way. He always had a way of breaking your walls down, making you feel as though maybe things weren’t as complicated as they seemed. But this time, you knew it wasn’t that simple.

You thought back to your last conversation with Jisung—awkward and strained, unspoken words hanging between the two of you. You had told him you needed space, needed time to figure out what the two of you were.

But you missed him. Missed the way his smile made you feel like everything could be okay. You missed how he’d pull you close on the couch, his fingers tracing circles on your skin while you listened to music together. Those moments were the best part of your days.

You grabbed your sweater and stepped out into the night. The cool breeze kissed your face, and for the first time in a while, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. You knew what you had to do.

Nervousness grew as you got closer to his apartment. You knew this probably wasn’t the best idea. Jisung had made it clear he never wanted a relationship, but when he called you his one and only, you always wondered what could be.

You didn’t even know if Jisung would be home. There was a part of you that hoped he was—hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could figure things out.

When you reached his door, you hesitated for a moment, heart pounding. Then, without looking back, you knocked.

Jisung opened the door almost immediately. His eyes were tired, but there was that familiar warmth behind them, the one that always made you feel like you were home.

You both stood there, a foot apart, neither of you speaking. The space between you two felt suffocating yet comforting. It was like you were standing on the edge of something neither of you were quite ready for.

“You said you wanted to talk?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You weren't sure if you meant it as a question or a statement, but Jisung heard the hesitation in your voice.

He smiled, a soft, almost hesitant smile, and reached out to take your hand. "I’ve been thinking about you... about us." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt your heart skip a beat. Letting out a quiet laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

“I guess… I’d just really like to know if,” you said, stepping closer to him, your hand still in his. "You feel the same way about me, as I feel about you."

Jisung nodded, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, his touch grounding you in that moment. "I really do baby. I'm sorry it took me a bit, but I do."

You smiled at him, a soft, warming smile. You saw that he meant it, and that inside you both felt the same.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Sweet tooth (leeminho)

The jiggle. The delectable, vanilla smelling glossy syrup dripping down the sides of the giant pudding ...oh that bakery just went all out for this, you think to yourself, grateful the staff there had worked so quickly and so enthusiastically to make the giant sized pudding JUST for him.

You carefully step into the bedroom, the light flicker of the candle propped on top of the squishy pudding just barely crackling as you pray you won't set off the fire alarm of the hotel room, hoping it won't detect the minuscle wisps of smoke swirling around the flame. 

Minho sleeps peacefully, he is soundly asleep and perfectly buried underneath the duvet you feel so bad for having to wake him up, but it's also his birthday, and you especially got him a pudding cake made at the bakery that makes his favourite kind of vanilla and caramel pudding, he's probably going to wake up anyway once he smells the deliciousness.

"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to youu, happy birthday dear Minho! happy birthday to you!!", you sing quietly, having a hard time restraining your own snorts at how silly you sound. But then Minho doesn't even stir so you figure you'll have to be louder.

"AIGOOO!! LEE MINHO WAKE UP WAKE UP!", you start yelling in a sing songy voice, jostling Minho's heavy sleeping body until he starts yawning and stretching himself awake all groggily, "mmhh whaat what is it?", he grunts, blinking slowly, those big doe eyes progressively adjusting to the feeble morning light coming in from the window.

"IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!", you squeal, propping up the pudding cake towards his startled little face that promptly lits up: Minho melts into a fond smile, eyes suddenly awake and sparkly in the candle light as he looks at the dessert first and then at you with that kind of fondness that has your heart liquify into a puddle of honey.

"You got me a giant pudding?", he mumbles, his tired, slightly sweaty face in awe at you, "yes!! Now quick, make a wish and blow the candle before the fire alarm starts blaring", you reply as assertively as you can for you are truly worried you're going to get in trouble.

Minho smiles widely and chuckles, then finally blows on the single candle the bakery had kindly provided for the occasion, the both of you cheering and squatting away the fine whirls of smoke floating up towards the ceiling, "there you go! did you wish for something happy?", you ask excitedly, setting the cake down on the nightstand and then stretching your arm out to the room service cart left there from the night before to retrieve a couple of spoons.

"Mmh I'm not supposed to tell you or else it won't come true", Minho replies, adjusting himself into a more sitting position on the bed, anticipating your next moves by flattening out the sheets on top of his knees and then setting the cake down on them, the both of you immediately digging in into the sinfully sweet dessert.

It's the bunched up cheeks and big wide eyes on his pleased face that have you nearly squeak out of pure joy and endearment, Minho always looks so freaking precious eating his puddings it makes your heart pound with pride. 

"Is it yummy? Please let the bakery know! They were so anxious to get your feedback they even gave me a discount on my next purchase there...which I may or may not have already made", you snicker quietly, remembering you also got a couple of boxes of cookies for you and the boys,and 4 other whole jars of pudding for Minho to take with him on the rest of the tour. 

The overflowing pink cardboard packaging currently stashed at the corner of the couch in your large luxury suite attached to the master bedroom making it very much obvious you almost bought out the entire store. But you did it wholeheartedly happy. That sweetheart of your boyfriend deserved that and more.

Minho went all out for you, as per usual, too. He was on a small tour break here in Japan, coincidentally just around his birthday, and wasted no time flying you out to meet him and then proceeding to book one of the most expensive all inclusive suites at a famous hotel chain in the city. 

He wasn't the most openly touchy feely or loud, showy kind of person when it came to express his love for you but he minded no expenses and time for you: three days off meant you got him wrapped around your finger for those exact 72 hours. Wherever you wanted to go, whatever you wanted to do, he was down for anything. 

Also plenty of quiet affection. To the point you thought he was trying to over compensate for all the days you spent apart. Daily sweet pet names and little touches and those big eyes looking at you so fondly, staring at you while you talked to him to your heart's content.

Minho loved you in many different ways, and you couldn't have spent all the money in the world to get him all the pudding he deserved as a heartfelt thank you for that.

Minho chuckles at your excited rambling and nods, full cheeks with squishy pudding inside, caramel slick lips that he licks briefly, he munches down on his treat and feeds you from his own spoon, and you know he carved out a significant amount of pudding when you see the jelly like dome with a deep indent on its side, "it is so good! I'll make sure to send a personal review to them", he confirms, scooping up more pudding for himself once he's satisfied with your serving.

"Girlfriend duty has been succesfull. Now that you're happy and fed, what'ya wanna do today?", you inquire all preppy and upbeat depsite a rapid glance outside the window has you pouting in an instant: the sky is grey and dull and misty with a steady drizzle of rain, very few pale rays of sunshine well hidden behind the clouds.

Your boyfriend smirks and licks off his spoon until there's no trace of caramel left on it, he wiggles his eyebrows at you seductively, being the immense dork he is, a sexy dork but still a dork: "I could do you? birthday sex it's the best day of the year or whatever, I don't remember how the song goes", he chants rather unsurely. 

You facepalm and gently, playfully push him down against the headboard of the bed, "I was talking about an actual activity, like sightseeing or spending the day chilling in here since it's a bit gloomy outside", you explain chuckling, "well... I should like to get my 10.000 steps in today as well, we could go for a little walk if you feel like it? And maybe have lunch somewhere nice", Minho concedes, rubbing the top of your thighs with his smooth hands which you caress in return, "I'd like that yeah", you lean in to kiss him quickly.

Bundled up in your hoodies and scarves, you walk aimlessly around the town, Minho holds a blue umbrella, shielding the both of you, though he sometimes tips it slightly to the side so that a few cold drops land on your head and your shoulder, "MINHO!!", you whine, feigning exasperation at his silly mood and he just giggles, his cheeks bunching up, his front teeth showing.

And you just have to stick your hands deeper in your pockets, restraining yourself from launching yourself at him and attack him with kisses in the middle of the street.

You realize you have strayed quite a lot from the busier, bustlier areas of town when at one point you find yourselves walking uphill on a very pretty suburb, the pavement lined with bright pink flowers despite the season. You squint at them and smile, their intense scent floating in the humid air, making your nose tickle, perhaps making you feel a little lightheaded.

The rain drizzle slowly fades away, the sky not clearing up yet but looking more terse. You're yawning and gasping for air a little, the high collar of your jacket and your scarf constricting your airways, a mix of tiredness and jet leg weighing down your limbs. 

Minho definitely catches onto that and loops his arm through your own, pointing at a bench near a lovely flowe bed a few steps away, "ah this ajumma needs a rest, let's sit there", he exclaims playfully, making all sorts of groans and ridiculous sounds as he bends his knees like an old person and then plops down on the bench, making you giggle loudly.

Scooting closer, to him, you rest your head on his shoulder and inhale the scent of rain on his coat, the faint traces of his cologne and the scent of his skin, that homely, cozy feeling making your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You've wandered off somewhere in Japan, miles and miles away from your actual home, away from your friends and family, and yet you feel perfectly at home with him, no matter where.

It's that sort of comforting reassurance, having him by your side. A quiet belonging. A love like this you couldn't have ever imagined happening to you, yet it grows and grows everyday. In more ways than one.

You subconsciously smile at yourself, looking down at your lap for a sec, lost in thought, "what are you smiling cutely like that at?", Minho inquires, those giant eyes of his narrowing as he looks at you curiously, "oh nothing at all. I'm just happy. And I love you", you say calmly, matter of factly. Minho grins and  tilts his head to the side, a little discombobulated at how eager you see to be today, yet he notices you're also tiring out faster that usual.

"I love you too. Let's go eat something warm now, you're freezing", he states, grabbing your hand and lifting you up from the bench in a single pull.

Your mouth watering at basically every single ramen dish on the menu's list, you squint your eyes to carefully read all of the ingredients, your nose prickling with the steam and sting, pungent smell of spices and meat floating around the restaurant you and your boyfriend had made yourself cozy inside.

A waitress comes along with a pitcher of water and a pot of green tea and asks if you're ready to order, and considering you can understand japanese okay but are not too confident speaking, you let Minho take over for you, pointing at the dish you choose on the menu so he can order it for you, his natural soft spoken self instructing the waitress so kindly over the level of spiciness he likes with his ramen.

Ah shit. You think. Scrambling at the thought of severe heartburn.

You quickly gesture for Minho to order a mild version of your ramen of choice and his eyes go wide in surprise: "but you love extra spicy ramen? are you okay?", he asks, not even masking his concern behind those big eyes, you gently pat his hand and nod reassuringly, he corrects the order and the waitress nods understandingly before leaving.

You pour yourself a giant glass of water, loosening the collar of your hoodie around your neck, suddenly feeling a little parched, "are you sure you're okay?", Minho inquires suspiciously, to which you giggle nervously, "yeah, yup. Totally fine. I guess the jet lag is catching up to me and my stomach is feeling a little funny. Or maybe I just had too much pudding this morning", you reply, muffling a yawn escaping past your lips.

Minho being Minho doesn't let you pay for shit. He had exttacted his credit card from his wallet at the speed of light and carefully manouvered you around and out of the restaurant, a reassuring arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you close all the way down your after lunch walk.

"You could have let me treat you for your birthday for once", you pout, standing on your tippy toes to reach his cheek and kiss him there, his ears immediately flushing red, adorably. How cute was that though? Even after years upon years of being together he was still so shy in public ugh ... It made your heart squeeze on itself. It made your tummy feel warm.

"Not a chance. Now, do you want to stop at a tea house for some tea and cake or would you like to go back to the hotel room and take a nap? You look a bit tired", Minho pats your head, his fingers lingering in your hair as he smooths it over sweetly, "well ... I still need to give you your actual birthday gift, we better head back to the hotel", you explain, a jitter in your insides at the thought of actually giving him his birthday present.

As soon as you step inside your hotel room again you realise your stomach is doing backflips. You hadn't been so nervous this morning, or at least you had found it easier to mask it with excitement over the giant pudding. But now as Minho quietly orders some tea for you and fluffs up the pillows on the couch by the window, you start to feel your hands twitching.

Stick to your plan, just stick to your plan. You repeat yourself over and over.

Room service is exceptionally fast and soon enough Minho settling down with his steaming much of green tea, the warm honey still swirling around his cup. You take one of the cookie boxes out of the pink bag and walk over to him, smiling sheepishly: "these might go well with tea". 

Minho looks up at you, beaming, a little smirk playing on his lips, "you really went crazy in that bakery uh? I love that you gave in to your sweet tooth", he jokes, immediately grabbing a cookie and dunking its tip into his mug. Then he actually feeds it you first, you can clearly tell he enjoys seeing you bite into it, loves seeing you eating happily.

He pats his lap for you to sit on so you're facing him, and carefully balances his cup on the armrest of the couch, grinning at you before munching on his own cookie. "I guess I was craving something sweet...I got cookies for us and for the guys too", you mumble before taking a sip from your own mug, a tiny tug at your tummy as you speak.

"Do you ever crave my cookie?", Minho deadpans, making you snort, "ah! Funny you should say that ...". You heart now jumping out of your chest, you set your mug down with trembling hands and retrieve a paper wrapped item from the bag with the cookies and hand it over to him.

"For me?", Minho smiles innocently and you nod, he unwraps the folds haphazardly and holds up a black t-shirt with cartoonish pictures of kittens, one of them depicted with a pacifier in its little mouth, bold white writing just above the graphic: "dad of four".

Skeptical if not confused, Minho looks at the shirt first then at your nervous smile, his eyes wandering all over your face, "uh? that's so cool! are we adopting anothr cat?", he asks incredolously, "you might ...you might want to look at the bottom of the bag..." ,you suggest, your voice thin and shaky.

Minho lays the shirt next to him and looks curiously into the bag. And once he sees it he freezes: eyes going wide and shiny, his mouth opening into that little surprised triangular shape showing his bunny teeth: "are you serious?", he exclaims softly, his whole face rapidly breaking into a beautiful smile , his eyes twinkling even in the pale light of the grey sky.

You hardly contain the tears pooling behind your eyes, a few roll down your cheeks without you even realising despite the jaw breaking smile erupting on your face, and Minho promptly cups your cheeks, looking so elated, so happy, you don't believe you've ever seen him this joyful: "you're pregnant?"he asks sweetly, as if for confirmation, his thumbs rubbing away the tears on your face.

Nodding vigorously, you burst into a liberating laugh and cry all at once, your knees giving in even if you're sitting in his lap, making you lean forward as if your whole body suddenly lost against gravity. Minho giggles SO loudly and embraces you, stopping you just shortly of collapsing on him, he holds your hips and your face and shoulders alternatively, barely holding back the mistiness in his orbs.

"We're having a baby!!", he giggles softly, squishing your cheeks, looking at you with so much languor you think you might just implode, "oh my god hi!! I love you! we're having a baby!!", he repeats excitedly, his voice cracking a little. 

You sniffle and wrap your arms around his neck for support and he just kisses you spontaneously, happily, smiling through the kiss over and over until you're brethaless.

Once he's satisfied with you dazed state he lifts up your hoodie just above your belly button and playfully pokes your soft tummy, then strokes it so gently, so carefully, "there's a little one in there!", he exclaims happily and you chuckle, "they're very very tiny still but yeah ...I took the test as soon as I landed here. I took multiple ones actually, I'm supposed to be just over 2 and half weeks today".

Minho grins once more and places the smallest most fluttery little kiss on your collarbone, he looks so bewildered and content he can't stop smiling at you and caressing your tummy, "so that's why you didn't want anything spicy and you were so sleepy and jumpy and craving sweet stuff, my jagiya is pregnant!", he thinks out loud, truly only making you feel like you could die over his excitement.

You stroke his hair and nod, feeling a little bad for keeping the secret for the last few days, you really just wanted the both of you to feel relaxed and regain your footing after travelling before dropping such life changing news. 

"I love you so much. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I really wanted to surprise you for your birthday", you confess meekly and he shakes his head as if dismissing your apology, "that's the best birthday gift ever. It's also so funny cause you know what I wished for my birthday earlier today while I was blowing my candle?", "noo..?", you start, curiously, and he laughs contently and suddenly looks adorably mischievous: "I wished for Soonie, Doongie and Dori to hopefully get a sibling soon".

[straykids-97]

Ok… Two things:

One: railway is a PHENOMENAL r&b track ✨ like literally. It’s SCREAMS Chris 1000%

And two: did anyone else notice the difference between his eyes? When he’s wearing black his left eye is white, and when he’s wearing white, his right is white. True yin yang 🫶🏼 it’s giving Geto/Gojo vibes tbh lol

Also, can appreciate the vampire themes. From the obvious “blood” right down to the hoa hoa hoa esque ass filters 😭🤣

Anyway, food for thought 😅

[luvserie]

SKZ Reacts to Someone Flirting With You

Maknae Line

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, mentions of MDNI and NSFW content, swearing, mentions of violence

HYUNG LINE

Bang Chan 🐺

As we all know, Chan struggles with self-hate. That's why, contrary to popular belief, I don't think he would be that assertive in his attempts to get someone away from you.

I'm not saying he wouldn't be assertive, but just not in the guard dog or bodyguard kinda way, y'know?

Let's say you're at a party and Chan sees you laughing it up with another person at the bar. I don't think he'd walk right over there.

If I'm being honest, I believe Chan would probably overthink the interaction, sadly sipping his beer for a couple minutes before sidling up to you and introducing himself to the stranger as your boyfriend.

If that doesn't get the message across, he'll hug you from behind, pressing soft kisses to your neck and jawline, only half listening to you as you ramble on about whatever you're talking about.

"Mhmm...mhm...babe, can we go somewhere else? I wanna introduce you to some friends of mine..."

For sure feels a sense of pride when you agree, letting him drag you away so he can have you all to himself.

Lee Minho 🐰

This man is canonically possessive. I mean, have you heard of Minsung?

This time you and Lee Know are at a wedding, and you're at the salad bar when a man comes up to you, complimenting your dress.

Lee Know is by your side in less than a second, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Who's this, baby?"

Lee Know is glaring daggers at whoever had the AUDACITY to try and speak to his partner the whole time you three are talking.

At some point, the rando gets the hint, awkwardly shuffling off back to his friends.

You turn back to Lee Know and wrap your arms around his neck, laughing about how the man looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Kitten...you're mine forever whether you like it or not. Don't insult me by even trying to have coherent conversation with worms like him."

Definitely reminding you who you belong to when you get home. After you catch the bouquet, of course. 💐😏

Seo Changbin 🐷🐰

Changbin, in my head, is a chihuahua. This man is a chihuahua that barks at you because you got to close to their owner.

It's your anniversary and Changbin took you for a day out, ending it off with a sunset picnic. You see an ice cream truck and ask Changbin for money to go get some.

As you're heading back to the blanket and your boyfriend a tall, handsome man approaches you and asks for your number.

Changbin doesn't hear what you say, but he sees you sheepishly point at him, before heading towards your boyfriend.

The man harshly grabs you wrist, forcing you to drop one of the ice cream cones. That's the breaking point.

Changbin marches over to you two like a small blazing ball of fury, shoving the guy back, away from you.

"Yo, is your guard dog okay?" The guy asks, laughing.

"I will be once you stop fucking touching my girlfriend. Hands. Off. Now. Or I'll beat you up myself."

Changbin stares your assailant down(or up, due to his height) until the latter leaves, then lead you back to the blanket.

Massages your wrist where it's red, consoling you about the lost ice cream.

Offers to pay for another, settling down with you once he gets it just in time for the sunset you two came here for.

Hwang Hyunjin 🦙

You two are attending an event. You're dressed to the nines, and Hyunjin can't keep his eyes off of you.

That's how he sees a man sidle up to you, striking up a conversation.

Now, I think, that when it comes to you, Hyunjin is either all in or all out. He's either fine with guys talking to you when he's not there or he's not. No in between.

This is one of the "not" days.

Hyunjin wraps his long arms around your shoulders, tilting his head and staring at the man opposite him coldly.

This man waits for a grand total of two minutes before beginning to roll his eyes and pout.

“Hey, can you…like, leave?”

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY rubs it in the stranger’s face once you two leave. Side eyed him, flipped him off, stuck his tongue out. The whole package.

“Sweetheart…don’t talk to him again, okay? For me.”

[j-sunct]

skz "roles" as boyfriends

𓂃 stray kids "roles" if they were your boyfriend(s). like, "the kind one", "the caring one".

❀ skzㅤㅤㅤ ' ㅤㅤㅤneutral!readerㅤ

fluffㅤ  ㅤ╱ㅤ    👤ㅤ   minors can interact

⋆ war'ningsㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ

"the protector one"⠀▹⠀bangchan

i think of chan a lot as a protective boyfriend, the one who is afraid of losing you. it's not something that borders on possessive, he just loves you too much. chris would be that boyfriend that you have a deal with, always talking about where you go, when you'll be back, and things like that. just to avoid unnecessary worries. i also imagine him as someone who, if he saw someone hurting you, or even on the internet through hate, he would definitely start a fight.

"the quiet one"⠀▹⠀lee know

most people think of minho as a quiet and cold person, but i don't think he's cold. he just has trouble showing it, words of affection aren't his thing. he would probably find comfort in cuddling on the couch, or watching you play with his cats. it's very comforting to see that the things you love work in harmony, everything with him is very calm, really. lee know could try to learn hobbies from you too, he would do anything to support you.

"the friendly one"⠀▹⠀changbin

BINNIE!!!! well, i have MANY thoughts about him, but i'll try to summarize. for me, he is the friendly boyfriend, who would always be willing to do anything for you. he would want to meet family, friends, everything that makes you happy. at work, bin would spend a lot of time thinking about you... i guarantee it. it's almost like a distraction. he may be big, go to the gym and everything, but with you he is so small. the type who will obey you and would like a lot of affection in the relationship. he could share his workouts with you too, but it would just be another excuse to be together.

"the artist one"⠀▹⠀hyunjin

bruh. that's SO obvious. hyunjin would be that boyfriend who would want to paint you. not just on the screen, but actually putting the paint on your body can be a really fun experience. i imagine him as something similar to lee know: a calmer, softer relationship. hyun would definitely love to share headphones with you, or listen to the music on the speaker, dance around the house, like a newlywed couple in the prime of love. he also really likes going out, his main outings would be parks, beaches, things connected with nature. i think hyunjin would be that son-in-law that your mother is proud of.

"the bipolar one"⠀▹⠀han jisung

jisung would be the one you NEVER know what to expect from. one day he may be completely affectionate, but the next day he may be stressed or not want contact. this is largely due to his work as an idol as well, but i feel like it's part of his personality as we see it on stage. despite that, i believe that han would be a good boyfriend, the one you can always count on, he would do anything for you (jisung-pre debut makes me think he would get into fights over you. A LOT).

"the provocateur one"⠀▹⠀felix

people tend to see felix as mostly a cute guy, but i imagine that in a relationship he would actually be quite provocative. like, he has that whole deep voice, he might try to whisper some words in your ear, or a pet name that he knows you love. all my hcs for felix are like this, he is really a first class provocateur. i also think he could be a guy who has calmer relationships, who follows the "step by step" process of dating, and then gets married in a ceremony after a few years. It would be a quiet relationship, but with good reasons, you know? It would never be something boring or too monotonous.

"the cold one"⠀▹⠀seungmin

this is common actually. to think of seungmin as cold. but i don't think he is THAT COLD. he may just have difficulty showing affection, whether through touch or words. but of course, at certain moments in your relationship, he will be a loving and vulnerable boyfriend. it's like lee know, actually, but a little more complicated, more difficult. for you two to date, he would need to trust you A LOT, like A LOT. i believe seung would also like to go on outdoor trips and spoil you a little, buying you all kinds of gifts.

"the hot one"⠀▹⠀jeongin

i think the stays were so busy labeling i.n as the "cute, adorable" member, precisely because he is the maknae, that they didn't notice how HOT this man is. so in a relationship, i think he would prioritize this naughty, almost provocative pose like felix, but jeongin would have a little more attitude. LOTS of touching, he likes to show affection like this: hands on your thigh (maybe innocently), hugs on your waist, longer kisses and things like that, he's almost a "needy one".

[h4nj1sunggg]

I missed writing I wanna create something else but I'm not sure which member

[centralization0]

who in stray kids ㅠㅠ

[jut-and-dae-enthusiast]

Fool (For You) //s.c.b//

changbinxgnreader, friends with benefits to lovers, uses of pet name(baby), implied sex (SFW), changbin is shirtless (as he should always be) WC: 810

Hi lovelies, lets see if I can escape my flop era :') I've been sitting on this for a few months- hope you guys like it <3 (likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated)

A teardrop streamed down your cheek and splashed onto the fabric of your shirt as you crouched down to grab it from the floor. Changbin stirred in the bed and you knew you had mere moments to escape before he saw you. You squinted your eyes in the dark room, attempting to locate your pants. As you squatted down to pick them up, Changbin sat up and you could feel his sleepy gaze.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” He croaked from the bed, his voice raspy and heavenly after sleep. You frantically wiped your cheeks and responded over your shoulder. 

“I’ve got some things I need to get done today.” You tried to keep your voice light and airy even though more tears made their way down your cheeks. “Thanks for the fun night though. Call me when you need me again.” Your heart tore at the feeling of saying these words, knowing you didn’t mean them. 

What had started as a harmless “friends with benefits” situation became a game to see how long you could pretend you weren’t fully head-over-heels in love with Seo Changbin. 

The bed creaked as he stood from it, quiet footsteps padding over to meet you. 

“Why are you crying? Is something wrong?” His voice was gentle as he cupped your face in his hands. His brows knit with worry, lip jutting out ever so slightly. You shook your head and tried to pull away, but he held you in place. 

“I can’t do this, Bin.” You whispered as hot tears of embarrassment mixed with the tears from before. 

“Can’t do what?” His thumb gently swept over your cheek, patiently waiting for you to find the words. 

“This.” You gestured to the two of you, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I thought I could do the whole “no strings attached” thing. I really did. But I’m just not that kind of person. My heart can’t handle it.” Your lip wobbled as his hands lowered from your face, the sting of rejection turning your cheeks bright red. 

“Baby, just slow down yeah? Let’s talk this out. ” He was careful with every word, a hand running through his curls. 

“Don’t call me that.” You took a step back, shaking your head. 

“Huh? I’ve always called you that. Just talk to me.” He reached for your waist gently, pulling you against him. The skin from his bare chest burned against your hands as you braced yourself against him. It was familiar, the rhythmic rising and falling as he breathed. 

“I fell in love with you, Bin. It didn’t take very long and I’ve been trying to deny it. But I can’t sit here and pretend that I’m not dying every time I watch you flirt with girls at the bar. Or watching those same girls ogle at what should be mine.” He took a deep breath through his nose and looked away. “I’m so so sorry, Bin.” You were crying again, tears rolling down your face one after the other. 

“Why would you be sorry?” He rubbed small circles on the small of your back. 

“You said you didn’t want something serious. I tried to keep it that way, but I fucked up. You said you liked what we had going and I ruined it.” You were crying so hard at this point you couldn’t see through the tears.

“Hey, I need you to breathe baby.” He held your shoulders and tried to look into your eyes. 

“You said you needed to get some frustration out and I wanted to help you. Maybe I’ve been in love with you this whole time? But it doesn’t matter because I’m an idiot and-“ His lips collided with yours, stopping your words mid-sentence but the tears continued to flow. 

“Baby, I need you to listen to me.” He whispered as he rested his forehead against yours and pecked your lips a few times before sighing softly. “All of that shit I said… it was just… an excuse. I didn’t think you could feel any type of way for me. When you expressed interested in it, I thought that I finally had a chance to have you in some way. You seemed to be enjoying it and I just wanted to be by your side.” The room was silent as you searched his eyes for any sign of dishonesty. Of course there was none. 

“So you…” You trail off, eyes wide in awe of what’s happening. 

“I feel the same, yes.” His voice was softer than it had ever been in the time you’ve known him, every part of him tender from the look in his eyes down to the way he held you. 

You started to cry again, this time with a lip-splitting wide smile. He smiles too, a few tears of his own slipping down his cheeks. He kisses you and suddenly you feel it. The love, the affection. You can feel by the way he kisses you that he’s yours-just like he has been from the very beginning. 

thanks for reading <3 (don't forget to like and reblog)

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

Capture the flag: one

“𝒟𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂.” ― 𝒮𝓊𝓏𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈, 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒢𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈

Warning: Death, Heartbreak, blood, betrayal, MXM, Smut, Hate, Manipulation, Swords, arrows, injuries, murder.

18+

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Father," Y/N bowed her head respectfully as her father sat atop his grand throne, the embodiment of authority and power. A glass of whiskey, his signature drink, rested in his hand. The amber liquid glimmered in the dim light of the throne room as he took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her.

"Y/N, my daughter," he chuckled darkly, the sound echoing in the large, cold room. Slowly, he stood up from his throne, his regal presence filling the space as he approached her. His footsteps were deliberate and slow, each one deliberate and commanding. "Did you like my little present?" he asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he circled her, his eyes scanning her kneeling form.

"Yes, Father," Y/N replied, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her. "I do. Thank you so much..." Her breath hitched for a moment as she hesitated, then continued, "But... I do not understand why you got it for me."

It was true. She had woken up that morning to find her servants waiting for her with a gift from her father. When she opened the box, she found her mother’s sword—the one-of-a-kind, ceremonial blade that had been gifted to her by the Gods themselves when she became a victor. Y/N's heart twisted with the weight of it. Her mother had wielded it with pride, a symbol of power and legacy. But why was it now in Y/N's hands?

Her father chuckled, his voice low and knowing. "My dear," he began, walking back toward his throne, "you know I’m growing old." He settled back into his seat, the grand chair creaking slightly under his weight. The servants immediately rushed forward to refill his glass, their movements swift and practiced. "I cannot run this Division forever, you know?"

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart sinking. She knew what this meant. It was only a matter of time before her father would relinquish control, and it would be her responsibility to take over. She had prepared for this day in many ways, but nothing had prepared her for the weight of the moment.

"I know, Father," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words held the weight of truth. It was common sense that she would be next in line to lead the Division. It was the natural order of things.

Her father’s lips twisted into a grin, though there was something cold in his expression. "Very well," he continued, his tone dripping with pride, "you know you’re next in line." His eyes gleamed with approval, though there was a mocking edge to his words. "But you can’t just... become Empress of my Division," he said, his tone shifting as he leaned forward, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "No, no, no..."

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. "I do not understand what you are saying, Father," she said, tilting her head slightly in confusion, trying to piece together the riddle he was presenting her. What was he implying?

"You see..." He took a deep breath, the sound heavy and deliberate, as though weighing his next words. His gaze shifted to the towering windows behind him, the city sprawled out below in the distance, the lights of the bustling metropolis twinkling like stars. "Centuries ago, when your mother was alive... the women had to fight for their thrones." He spoke with a strange reverence, his eyes distant as if lost in the past.

"I know that," Y/N whispered, the mention of her mother still a sharp pain in her chest. She had lost her mother at a young age, and the memories of her were both treasured and painful.

Her father’s gaze remained fixed on the city as he continued, seemingly unaware of the way his words cut through Y/N’s heart. "Now, these people... OUR people don’t think you are capable of sitting on this throne," he said with an almost bitter edge to his voice. He took another sip of his drink, savoring it as if he could taste the frustration in the air. "They doubt you."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of the words pressing down on her, and the more she heard, the more she understood the depth of her father's intentions. Her heart began to race, a cold sweat forming on the back of her neck.

"But I am ready," Y/N said, her voice steady, though she could feel the uncertainty creeping in.

Her father’s expression darkened as he slammed his glass down on the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing through the room. "They don’t know that!" he boomed, his anger suddenly erupting, causing Y/N to flinch. "You will be attending this year’s Capture the Flag," he continued, his voice dangerous and final. "No questions asked."

Y/N’s blood turned to ice in her veins as the meaning of his words sank in. She couldn’t breathe. No... he didn’t just say that.

"You will represent District Nine," he added, turning his eyes back toward her, his smirk returning as he watched her expression crumble.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as the world around her seemed to slow down. The Capture the Flag tournament was a brutal, bloody event—a war fought for dominance, where only the strongest emerged alive. To be forced into it was to be sent to a near-certain death, and her father knew that.

"Father, I cannot..." Her voice trembled as she tried to process what he had just demanded of her. "I can’t participate in those games. It’s a murder scene waiting to happen." She tried to reason with him, but her voice faltered under the weight of her fear.

"I do not care," her father replied coldly, his voice cutting through her protests like a blade. "I will not sit back and allow them to call you weak. You will go, and you will fight. And you will win." He tapped his glass against the armrest, signaling for the servants to come take it from him. "Now, go and prepare. The ceremony is soon."

Y/N’s body went numb. Her mind screamed in defiance, but her father had already dismissed her with a final, dismissive wave of his hand. "You are dismissed," he said, not even bothering to look at her as he sat back down. His voice was filled with finality, a tone that brooked no argument. "You have a ceremony to get ready for."

Her heart shattered. She stood up slowly, her body moving mechanically, as though her legs were no longer her own. The world around her felt distant, foggy, as if she were no longer in control. She had always trusted her father to protect her, to guide her. But now he had signed her death sentence, sending her into the games that had claimed the lives of so many.

Her breathing quickened, the walls closing in as the room felt smaller, suffocating. She needed to leave. She needed air. She needed something to ground her before she lost herself entirely.

With her thoughts racing, Y/N rushed to her chambers, her movements hurried and desperate. Her new sword, wrapped in white cloth, sat neatly on the table—her mother’s sword, a symbol of her legacy. She couldn’t bear to look at it.

With a strangled cry, she collapsed to the ground. Her body shook violently as tears flooded her eyes. Her hands gripped the sword’s cloth, clutching it as if it could somehow anchor her to reality.

How was she going to survive this? How could she survive this brutal, unforgiving game? The thought of facing it, knowing it was practically suicide, made her chest tighten. Yet, there was no choice. No escape.

Her father had set her up for death, and she was powerless to stop it.

The sharp knock on the door broke through the suffocating silence, dragging Y/N out of her spiraling thoughts. She hastily wiped her eyes, trying to hide the tears that had been falling freely since her father’s brutal decree. The last thing she wanted was to face someone while she was falling apart. But before she could compose herself fully, the door creaked open.

Amora stepped inside, her expression instantly softening as she took in Y/N's tear-streaked face. She frowned, a deep concern settling in her eyes.

"I’m so sorry," she said, her voice gentle but full of respect as she bowed her head slightly—a gesture that was second nature to her, one of deep deference.

Y/N gave a weak, forced smile, but it didn’t last. Her face crumpled, the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. She let out a ragged breath before her composure broke entirely. "It’s okay, Amora... I just... have to prove my worth, don’t I?" The words left her mouth bitterly, but the moment they did, her smile shattered and the sobs she’d been trying to suppress burst forth, raw and uncontrollable.

Without hesitation, Amora rushed to her side, pulling her into her arms. She held Y/N tightly, her fingers gently threading through her hair as Y/N cried, her body trembling against her.

"I’m so sorry this has to happen," Amora whispered softly, her voice filled with pain and sorrow, knowing too well the burden Y/N now carried. She ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair, offering a sense of comfort, of solace, even if it couldn’t fix what was broken.

Y/N didn’t answer, her sobs more guttural now, filled with the weight of the decision her father had made for her. The world felt like it was closing in, and all she wanted was to forget it all, to escape this cruel fate. "I promised her I wouldn’t be like her," Y/N murmured between sobs, her voice cracking as she tried to control the torrent of emotions. "I promised... I wouldn’t kill innocent people just for fun."

Amora’s heart ached. She had been there when Y/N’s mother took her last breath, the woman who had once been the pillar of strength. She understood Y/N’s pain more than anyone. "I know, my love," she whispered, her voice soft but steady. "You’re nothing like her. You’re stronger. You’ll find a way through this."

Y/N's chest heaved with silent sobs, her grip on Amora tightening as if holding onto something that might keep her grounded. She didn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps—didn’t want to carry the legacy of bloodshed and violence that had plagued her family for generations. Yet here she was, pushed to the brink of a cruel fate she couldn’t escape. "Why is he doing this to me?" Y/N asked through her tears, her voice barely a whisper, the question hanging in the air like a bitter cloud.

Amora didn’t have an answer. She had no way to explain her father’s cruel manipulation. She could only offer the comfort of her embrace and the warmth of her presence. "I don’t know, my love," she said softly, brushing a lock of hair from Y/N’s tear-streaked face. "But you need to rest now. You’ve been through so much."

Y/N let out a long, exhausted sigh, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The emotional toll of the day had drained her, her body and mind ready to surrender to the comfort of sleep, even though her heart was still heavy with dread. She yawned softly, the exhaustion finally taking over.

"The ceremony starts tomorrow," Y/N murmured as her eyelids fluttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Amora nodded, her heart breaking for the woman she had cared for, for the daughter of a tyrant who had been forced into this unthinkable situation. She gently guided Y/N back to her bed, tucking the blankets around her like a shield against the world outside. Y/N’s eyes closed slowly, the last remnants of her sobs trailing off into soft, steady breaths.

Amora stayed by her side, watching over her, brushing her fingers through Y/N’s hair until her cries faded into sleep. As she lay there, Y/N’s quiet sobs still echoing in her mind, Amora silently vowed that she would do everything in her power to protect her, even if it meant defying the very blood that ran through Y/N’s veins. Tomorrow would bring darkness, but for tonight, Amora would hold her close and shield her from it—if only for a little while longer.

Y/N finally drifted into a fitful, tear-streaked sleep, and Amora remained beside her, her heart aching for the young woman who had been dealt such a cruel fate.

The morning after the dreaded announcement, Y/N was jolted awake by the sounds of chaos echoing through the tower. The clang of armor, the chatter of soldiers, the bustle of servants—all preparing for the day she had been dreading for as long as she could remember. The Capture the Flag Games. The very thought of it made her stomach churn. She hated waking up to the knowledge that those blood-soaked games were inevitable, that no matter how much she hated them, they would go on, and she would be expected to participate.

"Your Majesty," a voice called softly, but with urgency, from the door. Y/N groaned and buried her face deeper into her pillow, unwilling to face the day.

"You know I hate waking you up like this," the voice teased.

Y/N groaned again, her irritation growing. She couldn’t escape it. "Then don’t," she mumbled, throwing the pillow over her head in an attempt to block out the world.

"Aww, I love you too," her dresser replied, unphased by her annoyance. He was used to it. He carefully pulled the blanket off her body, revealing her still-damp sheets, a clear sign of the restless night she’d had. "But seriously, wake up. Your father will have my head if you don’t. You’ve got a lot to do."

Y/N growled, a low sound of frustration escaping her throat. "You’re lucky I don’t kill you right now," she muttered as she stretched out her arms and yawned.

"Don’t kill me yet, Your Majesty," he said with a wink as he set out a selection of gowns on the nearby racks. "Go take a shower and brush your teeth. You’ve got to look like a queen today, whether you like it or not."

"Ugh," Y/N muttered, still annoyed, but knowing there was no escaping it. She dragged herself out of bed, heading toward the bathroom with slow, reluctant steps. Her reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger. She hated it all—the ceremonial rituals, the traditions, the fact that her father had forced her into this life of violence and competition. But there was no going back.

She glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall: 9:05 AM. The ceremony wouldn’t start until noon, which meant she had a few hours to prepare, but it didn’t make her feel any less nauseous. There was no amount of time that would ease her dread of the games. She scrubbed at her face with cool water, the silence of the bathroom a sharp contrast to the chaos outside.

Once she finished freshening up, she reluctantly left the bathroom. The stylist was already standing by, excitement radiating from him despite the heavy atmosphere.

"Let’s get you dressed, Your Majesty," he said with forced cheerfulness. He gestured to the gown laid out before her. It was white and dark red, the red symbolic of the blood spilled in the Games. She hated it. She hated everything about it. But tradition was tradition, and she had no choice.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N changed quickly. The gown was large and extravagant, the fabric flowing in a way that made her feel like she was floating. At least it was light enough for her to move in, but the weight of it on her shoulders felt unbearable.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" her dresser clapped his hands in exaggerated excitement, trying to distract her from the dark thoughts swirling in her head. "We don’t have all day. I need to do your hair next."

Y/N groaned in response, her mood sinking even further. "Can we please just skip this part?" she muttered under her breath, but she didn’t dare question the ritual. Not today.

Once fully dressed, she was escorted to the arena. The journey was brief, but the closer she got, the heavier the atmosphere became. The sound of the crowd grew louder, a mix of excitement and anticipation. It felt like a nightmare unfolding, and yet it was reality.

When she arrived, she was led to a balcony where her father stood, waiting for her. The sight of him made her blood boil, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. This was her father. She had no choice but to play the role.

"Father," she said through gritted teeth, bowing her head in respect. The anger boiled just beneath the surface, but she kept it in check. She would not show weakness.

"My darling, you look absolutely stunning," he said with a grin, as if he were admiring a priceless gem. He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and kissing it gently. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, but she couldn’t show any signs of disgust.

"Thank you, Father. So do you," Y/N replied, forcing a smile. Her stomach twisted, but she held her stance, standing tall as she took her place beside him.

The crowd gathered below was immense, stretching as far as the eye could see. People from every district, all eager for the bloodshed that would soon unfold. Y/N’s stomach turned violently at the sight. These were her people—her subjects—and they were gathered here, cheering for the violence that would soon be unleashed.

She could feel the weight of thousands of eyes on her, all expecting her to participate in the carnage. It made her sick to her core. She had to push the disgust down. She had to.

The trumpets suddenly blared, their sharp notes cutting through the air. The noise of the crowd quieted instantly. The arena fell into a heavy silence, as all eyes turned to the royal balcony, waiting for the beginning of the ceremony.

Her father gave her a small, satisfied smirk as he prepared to address the crowd. Y/N felt like she was choking on her own anxiety. The ceremony had begun. She was trapped. And no matter how much she wanted to resist, the games would go on, and she would have to face them.

"My people!" The voice of her father boomed across the arena, so loud it almost made Y/N cringe. The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause, their enthusiasm deafening. "We are gathered here today to celebrate and begin one of our greatest traditions—Capture the flag!"

The roar of the crowd intensified, the energy electric. Y/N could feel it in the pit of her stomach, the anticipation of bloodshed, the thrill of the people. It sickened her.

"Capture the Flag is a game of not only loss, but of victory! Today, we will see these young people fight for our Division, to bring honor and glory home!" Her father continued, his eyes scanning the crowd before resting on her with a smile. "And this year," he paused dramatically, savoring the moment, "I have decided to give you all a gift, an offering!"

The crowd quieted, hanging on his every word, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

"My daughter, Y/N," he announced with a flourish, his arm sweeping toward her, "will be participating in this year's games!"

The gasps were immediate. The crowd murmured in shock and disbelief, and Y/N’s blood ran cold. She wanted to run, to scream, to tell them all that this was a mistake, but she couldn’t. She was trapped in her father’s plans, a pawn in his sick game.

She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. The world felt like it was crashing around her, the weight of her father’s decision suffocating her.

Her father chuckled, a gleam in his eyes. "I know, I know! You all think I’m crazy, but I must show you that she is strong enough to be your next empress!" His voice rang with pride, as if this were some kind of triumph.

The crowd cheered, buying into his manipulative words, and Y/N felt the bile rise in her throat. She could see their faces, eager, hungry for the spectacle of violence, oblivious to the toll it took on her.

"I won’t speak any longer," her father continued, "but I ask you all to take your seats and enjoy the show!" The crowd erupted in cheers even louder than before, and Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she stepped back, trying to hide the storm raging inside her.

The District Escort, a woman with a sickeningly bright smile, stepped up to the microphone, clearly more excited than Y/N had ever seen anyone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" she shouted, her voice practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "These are the chosen ones! The youth who will represent us in this year’s Capture the Flag!"

Y/N watched as the escort’s hands trembled slightly as she took the glass bowl from one of the servants. She cleared her throat, her voice sharp as she began reading from the scroll inside.

Y/N’s palms were sweating. She clenched her fists, praying that no one too young, no one under 18, would be chosen. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not today.

"From District One, we have…" The escort’s voice boomed. "Hwang Hyunjin!" she cheered, and the crowd erupted in applause as a tall, elegant boy stepped forward. His long brown hair fluttered around his face, his features almost angelic. He didn’t belong in this. He was too soft for this. Y/N could already see the fear in his eyes.

"District Two!" The escort’s voice rang out again. "Han Jisung!" The boy who stepped forward looked terrified, his wide eyes glistening with unshed tears. His cheeks were puffy, his posture stiff with fear. Y/N’s heart clenched in her chest—he didn’t want this. He didn’t deserve this.

"District Three! Seo Changbin!" Another cheer from the crowd, and the boy who stepped up was proud, walking with confidence, his chest puffed out in a way that made Y/N realize he might actually want this. He had the hunger for victory, the desire to survive.

"District Four! Lee Aeri!" The gasp from the crowd was immediate. A tiny girl was pulled from the crowd, her face streaked with tears. She looked no older than fourteen. Y/N's breath caught in her throat. No, not her. She wanted to shout out, to beg for her to be spared, but her father’s grip on her arm tightened, pulling her back.

"Don’t interfere," he whispered coldly in her ear.

Before Y/N could say anything, a voice called out loud and clear, stopping the ceremony in its tracks.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Everyone froze, staring at the boy who had just raised his hand. Long blonde hair, a nervous yet determined look in his eyes. Y/N’s breath hitched. She knew exactly what this meant. He was sacrificing himself.

"Wow! The first volunteer in 16 years!" The district escort gasped, glancing at Y/N's father, who was nodding approvingly.

"What’s your name, boy?" her father asked, stepping forward, his voice deceptively soft.

"Lee Felix, Your Majesty," the boy said, his voice shaking. Y/N’s stomach sank—he wasn’t doing this for glory. He was doing this for someone he loved. His sister, she realized, feeling her heart break for him.

"Well," her father said, a small smirk tugging at his lips, "may the gods be with you. You did well, son." He turned to Y/N, not even acknowledging Felix’s sacrifice further.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Felix said, his voice barely above a whisper. He walked to stand with the other boys, his face a mask of fear.

"From District Five, we have Seungmin!" The escort announced, her voice still carrying that excited, almost manic tone as Seungmin stepped forward confidently, ready to face whatever was coming his way.

"From District Six, Yang Jeogin!" She called out next, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. The boy looked barely older than a child, trembling with fear. He looked so young—16—and Y/N felt a sickening pit open in her stomach. No one volunteered for him. No one cared enough to save him.

"How old is he?" Y/N whispered to the escort, her eyes narrowing as she watched the boy’s shaking form.

The escort quickly glanced at the scroll and whispered back, "16, Your Majesty."

Y/N gagged, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. Sixteen—he was just a kid. And there was no one here brave enough to take his place. It was a slaughter waiting to happen.

"District Seven!" The escort’s voice rang out again.

"I volunteer as tribute!" A deep voice interrupted her, and all eyes turned to a man with the build of a fighter, his face sharp and feline. He was older than Y/N, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made her uneasy.

"Okay?! Wow! Two volunteers in one day!" the escort exclaimed, flustered by the sudden change in the air.

The man stepped forward, bowing deeply before Y/N’s father.

"What is your name son?" her father asked, intrigued.

"Lee Know, Your Majesty," the man said, keeping his head low. His voice was firm, though there was a nervousness there, a fear Y/N recognized all too well.

"May the gods be with you. You did well, son," her father said dismissively before stepping back to stand beside Y/N.

Y/N studied the boys now, trying to steady herself. She was going to be the only girl this year, and she had no idea how she was going to get through this. She could only hope that these boys would work together, that they would have the one goal she had: survive and win. They had no choice.

"Lastly!" The escort shouted, her voice crackling with excitement. "For the Capture the Flag games... We have District Eight! The one and only... Bang Chan!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, some standing, some shouting his name. Y/N could feel it too—the thrill, the energy. Bang Chan was a legend. He was built for this life, for war, for bloodshed.

He stepped forward with a confident smirk, his posture commanding, and made his way to join the others. He had never been picked before—this was his time, and the crowd loved him for it.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The escort said, practically giddy. "These are your warriors for the 64th annual Capture the flag!"

The crowd roared in approval, the sound deafening. "May you capture the flag and make us proud! And may the gods be with you!" she shouted, as the ceremony ended with the wild cheer of the masses.

Y/N stood frozen, her heart heavy with dread. This was only the beginning.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist.

@ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

@maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015

@kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon

[ylangelegy]

[CLOSED] ୨ৎ * ― GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

send a prompt + member of either svt or skz to my inbox for a >1,000 word drabble on jealousy. ´･ᴗ･`

[seungiesz]

remembering your first date

bang chan x afab!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 724

You and Chan were sitting in your favorite café, sipping coffee as the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the window.

The conversation had long since drifted from the long workweek, you two were catching a break from, to the topic of your upcoming anniversary.

"I still can't believe it's been three years," You said, leaning back in your chair and smiling. "It feels like yesterday we were at that little Italian place."

Chan raised an eyebrow. "Italian? We didn't go to an Italian place."

You paused, confused. "Yes, we did. You know, that cozy spot down the block from Minho and Jisung. I wore that red dress—"

Chan shook his head. "No way. We went to that sushi place by the park. You had that adorable little blue skirt on, remember?"

You frowned. "Sushi? That doesn’t sound right. I’m almost positive we went for Italian. There was a candle on the table, and the waiter kept calling me ‘ma’am.’ You even made fun of him for it."

Chan laughed. "That’s definitely not how it happened. I remember because I couldn’t stop laughing when the waiter said I looked like I belonged in a mafia movie. I was wearing that gray blazer I love, remember?"

"Babe, you're getting it all wrong. The gray blazer was on our second date!" You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief. "We definitely went to that Italian place."

Chan’s eyes narrowed, thinking hard. "Okay, okay, let’s break this down," he said, leaning forward. "You remember the part where I told you I hadn’t had sushi in years since my business trip in Japan?"

Your expression softened. "Oh, that was your big ‘I’m cultured and worldly’ moment, wasn’t it? And I told you I didn’t like sushi, but I’d be brave and try it. And you got all smug when I ate that piece and pretended to like it."

Chan chuckled. "Exactly! You didn’t even like sushi, and you ate it anyway just to impress me. I still can’t believe you didn’t just admit you didn’t like it. It would have been adorable if you’d just said, ‘I’m not really into raw fish,’ but no, you had to put on a show.”

You squinted at him, lips pursed. "I didn’t put on a show. I was trying to be polite. It wasn’t that bad, you know? I mean, the rice was good…"

Chan laughed again. "Yeah, sure, the rice was good." He paused, thinking. "And what about when we went for a walk afterward? You were all into the idea of watching the sunset over the lake, right?"

Your face lit up. "Yes! That’s exactly what happened! We were walking by the lake, and you kept trying to make me skip rocks, but I was terrible at it."

Chan shook his head. "You’re mixing it up again. We never went near the lake. We went to the little park near your apartment. You tripped over a tree root and I caught you, and you gave me that ‘oh my god, I’m so embarrassed’ look. I thought you were going to die of shame."

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process. "No, Chan. I know I tripped on the sidewalk, but it was by the lake. I remember it so clearly."

You both fell silent, exchanging glances as if waiting for the other to crack.

"So," Chan said after a moment, "What do we agree on? Can we at least agree on the part where I paid for dinner?"

You grinned. "I remember that part perfectly. You offered to split it, but I insisted on paying for my own meal. You said I was ‘too independent’ and that you liked it. That was… kind of cute."

Chan smirked. "I still don’t get why you wouldn’t let me pay. I thought that was part of the deal!"

You laughed. "It was a test. I wanted to see if you’d insist anyway."

You both chuckled, and the disagreement hung in the air, but for the first time tonight, neither of you minded. Because even if the memory was a little fuzzy—or completely off—you both knew the most important part of that night was clear: the two of you were still here, three years later, still arguing about it.

And maybe, just maybe, that was perfect enough for you two.

[maeleelee]

Boyfriend Stray Kids! tells reader happy birthday.. with a twist.

This was for @cadenonlinelive. His birthday is the same day as Hongjoong. I know it's a late post but I got really sick this week. So thank you for understanding.

TW: sexual content. Baby. Angel. Princess are used. Gets a little spicy. Wake up sex is mentioned. Binnie being a simp. Mention of being sore. Let me know it I missed anything.

@imagine-a-life-like-this @mxnsxngie @choisoorin @th3melthatfell @babrieeee @littleleatabixx @bubblesreplies @lethallyprotected @weird-bookworm @bahnghannah0697 @cadenonlinelive @acrylishly

[straykids-97]

Sinner

“Deliver me from evil, for I have sinned.”

Warnings: Dom!Chris, choking, intellectual humiliation, (stupid, dummy, etc), EXTREME power dynamic, sthenolangia, submissive!y/n. Chris is a meanie :( in this. Lmk if I forgot anything!!

Synopsis: Chris can only take so much before he snaps. A typical tirade ends up being far more than what you bargained for…

Word count: 2k

🖤❤️🔪❤️🖤

We’ve all heard the saying, ‘deliver me from evil for I have indeed sinned.’ Even if you aren’t religious, it’s used in media like movies and TV shows left and right. We’ve all been exposed to the mantra, over and over again. However, not many of us take into account what this can truly mean.

If you ask a random passerby, it means could mean you’ve done wrong, and you seek forgiveness from the Lord. And you seek forgiveness from Him in order to make it to those pearly gates in the afterlife.If you ask the right person, you could get the answer you so seek… Just depends on who you ask, and what situation you may be in when you say such a thing. And, well depending on the day, Chris can offer you so much more than just a simple response. His reply may even equate whatever God could offer…

You stand in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of cake batter as you rant and rave about your day and how much you wished he would’ve gone with you to the local farmers market so you didn’t have to go alone. Nothing out of the ordinary, a typical, little gripe. In reality, you knew he had to work. But it still made you feel better airing out your complaints so they didn’t pile up and really cause problems. You know better than to complain about such trivial matters, because in reality, they don’t really matter. You don’t mind going to the market alone, less stares that way. You feel normal again, not like you’re dating some insanely rich, hot K-pop superstar. 

Even though you knew it didn’t really matter, you still prattled on. Talking about how convenient it would’ve been and how much more fresh fruit and veggies you could have gotten if he were there to help carry your basket. You weren’t as strong as him, you argued, causing him to scoff. You roll your eyes at the lack of reply, wishing he’d say something. Anything. But he didn’t seem like he was even listening. 

But Chris was listening, oh was he listening. Chris was rubbing the strong muscles of his shoulders, digging his fingertips into his skin, harder and harder, the more you complained. Every time you said, “If you were only there,” or, “if you had been there,” he dug his nails into is skin. By now, he was leaving trails of red along where hes’ been obsessively rubbing for the last 30 minutes. He’s heard a lot of complaining lately and he’s about to hit his limit.

“…and this weird guy kept asking me if I needed help bringing my stuff to the car.” You babbled on and as you open your mouth to say something more, Chris’s hand slams down on the counter. You jump out of your skin, holding a hand over your heart as it jumps to a faster pace. You look at him, shocked by his reaction. Had you hit a nerve? Perhaps, but he’s never reacted that way before, it’s not uncommon for people to ask if you need a hand, that’s just the kindness of locals. But today, maybe mentioning that guy wasn’t such a idea.

He doesn’t look at you as you watch him rise from his stool and you watch with bated breath as slowly walks toward you. You don’t realize it, but you’re holding air in your lungs until he’s standing right in front of you. 

Chris grabs you by the chin, digging his nails into your skin so hard that you think he may break skin. You hiss, wincing as he yanks you closer to him, watching as he bares his teeth at you. Snapping them shut, he sucks air through his pearly whites, a warning.

He’s not playing- he’s serious.

The laughing and humor gone now, all that lingers in the air is a stuffy, hot feeling. Almost as if he was suffocating you by merely being close to you. You swallow hard, if he didn’t have his large hand around your jaw, it would be parted in shock.

“Shut.” His voice was low, sending a chill shooting down your spine, “up.” The last word was like venom on his tongue, the way he spat it in your face made it seem like he wanted it out of his mouth. Your heart slams against your ribs, fear making your hairs stand on end as his nails bite into your skin harder.

He walks you back until you’re pressed against the counter top, and the familiar sensation of cold sweat starts to cause beads along your forehead. The menacing look in his dark eyes never leaves as he stares holes into your soul. He leans in, his warm, minty breath spreading across your ear and neck as he speaks, “if I hear another fucking word come out of your mouth, I’ll shut it for you.”

You can’t fight the whimper that escapes and you quite literally feel him tense. He becomes a marble statue right in front of you as you feel another stab of adrenaline course through your heating body. You feel like an eternity passes before he pulls away, pure ice in his stare. He pulls you forward so that his nose is millimeters away from yours, and you feel the warning- the malice that radiates off his body, warming yours.

Fuck- this shouldn’t turn you on but it does. And he knows it.

After a few beats, he squeezes your jaw hard. Not hard enough to actually hurt you, but hard enough to get his point across before letting go. With one hand, he reaches for the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing and tugs it up and over your head. His dark eyes never leave your face as he pulls his own shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere near yours. 

You can’t think, let alone breathe as he picks you up with ease and places you on the counter, and wraps his forearms around your thighs, dragging you toward the edge as he kneels down on the ground. “Lift your ass- take off these shorts.” He ordered. There were no niceties- no kindness in his tone. His demand was final, and one to not take lightly. You do as he says without hesitation and lift your hips, sliding your shorts down to reveal no panties underneath. Your stopped by his arms, and he finishes the job by yanking them off your dangling legs. “You are to stay upright. If you lean back, you’re done.” You feebly nod, but when he doesn’t move, you open your dry mouth. “Ok.” 

He narrows his dark eyes, and you fix your mistake. “Yes, sir.” You squeak. Satisfied with your reply, he pushes your thighs apart. You bite your lip and you do your best to abide by his demands as he devours your core like a man starved. Leaving absolutely no part of of you untouched. You can’t help but want more, what he’s giving you is only for him. For his satisfaction, and not yours. When you realize this, you immediately get angry. “Chris-” You plead, trying to escape his hold. Your wiggling only causes his arms to clamp down on your upper thighs, a low growl emitting from between your legs. “Knock it off.” He warned, not looking at you. He pauses long enough for you to quit squirming before continuing. 

“Chris- not fair!” You gasp as he nips your sensitive clit. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s fair.” He snaps. Anger and malice drip from his every word, “You’ll sit there and take what I give you until I’m done. Understood?” You feebly nod, causing him to pinch your thigh, making you squeal. “Yes, sir!” You cry out, grabbing ahold of the edges of the countertop as he continues his assault on your pussy. 

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’ve came, tears are rolling down your cheeks and even trying to push Chris’s head away didn’t stop the pure force of nature he is. When Chris wants something, he gets it. He pulls away, slowly rising to his feet. Finally, you think, slumping back against the counter, completely exhausted. Your eyes trail up his toned torso, along the lines of your ecstasy covering his chest, neck and lower face. You watch as he slowly leans over and grabs a towel for himself, wiping away your juices before he pushes down his gym shorts. 

You lean up slightly to watch as he runs his right hand along his hardened cock, groaning with satisfaction as he tugs. You practically watch the shiver run down his spine. His dark eyes trail up you flushed body to your chest, watching it rise and fall rapidly with each breath you take. He reaches up and tugs the wiring down of your bra, causing your breasts to bounce out of the fabric. Chris reaches up, taking your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it until you cry out, arching off the countertop and into his hand. He chuckles darkly, stopping and giving your left breast a hard smack before doing the same to your right side. Once he’s satisfied with how red your now swollen breasts are, he stops rubbing himself off and lines up with your entrance. “Chris-” You begin to beg, new hot tears forming along your eyes.

He bares his teeth at you, causing you to stop talking. “The only noise I want coming out of that mouth, is your pretty little cries.” He hisses. “Anything else, and things will only get worse for you, stupid baby.” Your bottom lip trembles, and a wicked smile is plastered on his face as he shoves himself into you, causing a loud moan to escape your throat. 

You were oversenstive, cumming as much as you did did nothing but make you raw, sore even. But somehow, you managed to get wet enough to take his dick, making him moan into your red chest. 

He digs his nails into your hips, pulling you off the counter just enough so he could guide your ass how he wanted. You held onto the counter for dearlife, but knew better- Chris would never drop you. Intentionally or otherwise. He never had. But still, the gesture was instinctual. 

Chris pounds into your core, heat rising through your body like a wildfire- threatening to burn everything in it’s wake no matter the consequences. You moan loudly, head lulling between your shoulder blades as he picks up his god-like speed until your babbling, begging him to let you cum one more time. He moans, laughing at you. 

“You think I’ll let you cum? You’re stupider than I thought. It’s my turn. Be grateful for the times you did.” He growls, pounding into you harder than before. But you can’t help begging, it was just natural at this point. Especially when he fucked you like he hated you. His thrusts began to get erratic, groans coming out in broken pants as he started to cum. You watch as the man before you crumbles, shattering as he throws his head back in ecstasy before slamming into you one last time.

You remain like that for a short while, panting and chests heaving before he looks down at you. He slowly, carefully, pulls out and helps you stand to your feet. He snorts, watching as your legs shake and nearly give out. “Poor baby. Did I go too hard?” When you toss him a glare, he laughs. “Too much gym time? Awe, guess I should go a little easier next time, hmm?” Chris kisses the top of your head before sweeping you into his arms. “Maybe not. I do quite like being able to sweep you off your feet.” He winks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I want to feel bad for being so mean, but,” he shrugged, “you deserved it.” You glower but can’t help but to like it. Chris may be a meanie sometimes when fucking, but you’d both be liars if you said that neither of you didn’t like it.  

©️straykids-97

Sorry if this is garbage heh. I haven't written in months, so trying to dip my toes back into it. Please, lmk what you think of it!!

[luvserie]

Request Guidelines

Hi everyone! Please remember to abide by these rules or I will not write your request 💖

What I Will Write

Fluff (comfort, morning moments, etc.)

Angst (Self-harm, cheating, etc.)

Suggestive Content

Toxic Relationships

Imagines

Headcanons

Reactions

AU’s

Smut(Hand and mouth stuff is the extent to which I will go. Please don’t violate my boundaries or I will not write your request.)

CNC (I might be comfortable with consensual freeuse, but it really depends)

What I Will NOT Write

Penetration, noncon, dubcon

Incest

Extreme Kinks

I love you all! 💖💖💖

[fluffylino]

han jisung as flynn rider?!?!,

currently on a flight and the similarities are insane!!!

you cannot convince me otherwise that the two of them are so alike in features and mannerisms. aclakjsjsjajjajakkas

the smoulder?!

jisung would master that move and literally no one would stop him.

massive babygirl energy.

he'd complain and complain about you dragging him along to explore the world you had never seen, when this world was the reality he had lived in.

atleast managed to live in. stealing, theft and petty crimes were his occupations.

but when he meets you, he hesitates. you make him see the world in a different light.

you appreciate him.

imagine him dressed as flynn rider and literally being the sassiest man alive.

his waist....

HIS FUCKING WAIST MY GOSHHIS WAIST and those broad shoulders?!

lets not forget the beautiful locks of hair. so silky and smooth to run your fingers through.

very sensitive when you touch his waist or stroke the back of his head.

"you're making me lose my tough guy personality..."

imagine him saying that with this dazed absolutely lovestruck look in his eyes.

except he just won't admit how you make his heart face

because he's too 'cool"

of course it takes him a bit longer to drop the act and give in to you entirely.

bad boy? nah...

good boy? yes and only for you.

.

.

.

thank you for listening to my ranting