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lieslab · 3 months ago

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Call your mom

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: Your best friend finds you teetering on the edge of suicide in the middle of the night.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.2K

Suicide and depression resources

Trigger warning: Suicide, depression, self-hatred, brief mentions of pills, guns, self-harm, hanging, fear of life after death, and fear of being alone.

A/N: It's the first day of 2025 and if you're struggling with thoughts like these, please stay alive. I had a weird urge to drop this which means, at least, one of you is struggling right now. Please pick up the phone and call someone. Stay alive. I know it seems so hard when you're drowning, but you really have no idea what good things are waiting for you. They will find you, I promise <3

_ _ _

At midnight, Felix’s eyes shot wide open without a reason or why. He had just been asleep and yet, as he laid with his cheek pressed against the warmth of his pillow, there wasn’t the usual sleepy haze. It was almost as if he just opened his eyes and hadn’t been sleeping for the past few hours.

He laid there trying to figure out the reason for it, but none came. The steady sound of his breathing filled the room and he glanced over. The full moon was out tonight and she was watching over everyone, at least, that’s what he thought.

He didn’t know why your face appeared in his head. Somewhere deep in the subconscious realm and far from his understanding, something tugged on him. It ushered him to go and it forced him out of bed. In the darkness, almost like a shadow savior, he slipped on his slippers and rushed out of his room.

It was the one thing he actually liked about your shared apartment building. Your apartment was just down the hall. All he had to do was leave his unit, turn left, walk straight, and turn left again. The path was so familiar that he could do it in his sleep.

He tugged the wooden door shut behind him and didn’t bother locking it. He jerked on the oversized hoodie and rounded the corner, that’s when he saw you. The look on your face, it was one he’d never seen before.

The length of the hallway was barren at this time of night. Lights were secured above your head and dimmed down for the evening. The dimness couldn’t hide the tears pouring down your cheeks.

You couldn’t breathe with your thoughts piling up again. You’d been here before, but this time was different. This time, you were sure if you stepped foot in your apartment building, you wouldn’t come back out alive.

So you paced over and over and over again. Stuck between the urge in giving it all up and trying to find the strength to continue. Living was hard and it was even worse when your own brain hated you.

How much longer could you last? Too stuck in your head, you stamped yourself as a burden. You cut holes in your own heart and let yourself drown in your own hurt. Blood stained your hands and it was always all your fault.

A lump sat in your throat and the tears wouldn’t stop dripping. You wanted to keep going. You wanted to try again. You wanted to bite down on that small sliver of hope and cling to it, but you were also tired. This self-destructive cycle led to nowhere. You were tearing your mental sanity to shreds and your muscles were quivering from trying to keep your head held up one more day.

Just one more day. Just one more try. Just a little more. Another step. Another meal. Another memory creeping back from the depths of your mind and rerunning. Your brain was on fire and screaming.

Torn between letting go and staying here, you were breaking down. The oil in your machine ran out months ago. Every step weighed a thousand pounds. Your bones creaked and your soul ached. You longed for inner peace, but it never showed up.

Your dreams were dead. Your brain stamped them out weeks ago. You deemed yourself the family failure. The unlovable one. The kind of person that people steered themselves clear from because you were just too much.

The weight of your thoughts was breaking your back. Your brain screamed at you to stay, but you couldn’t find peace in sleep anymore. Where people found joy in the rainbows and sunshine, you couldn’t find that anymore either. You ran out of love to give a long time ago.

Wouldn’t it just be better to give up? To finally rest. To go to sleep. Swallow pills. Pull a trigger. Slice the vein. Step off the stool and let your windpipe close forever. The hurt was temporary and god, it’d hurt, but the peace afterwards…

You didn’t know what came after this. Maybe it really was heaven or hell. Maybe the rumors were true and you’d burn for eternity for killing yourself. Maybe you’d wake up in another life and in the arms of a new mother. Shiny eyes of another father would be cast upon you.

Or maybe it’d just be nothing. An eternal darkness and no matter what happened or where you went, it’d just be black. You’d cease to exist. You’d have all this and then nothing ever again.

You didn’t hear Felix the first time that he called your name, but you felt him. You smelled the familiar scent of minty toothpaste and eucalyptus. Your teary eyes reached up to find his and his heart shattered.

He cupped your cheeks and his heart squeezed with terror. “What’s wrong?” He whispered as he wiped away your tears.

You tried to speak, but your words turned into a whimper that got stuck in the back of your throat. How were you supposed to tell your best friend that you wanted to end everything? How were you supposed to tell them that you were so tired, you wanted to go? It was time for you to go.

Maybe it was selfish to not think about the hurt you’d cause him, or maybe it was selfish for him not to see the hurt that harbored in your heart. Would he ask you to stay if he knew you were drowning inside yourself? The darkness swallowed you whole and no matter how much you tried to swim to the surface, you never made it.

Did he know this was the last time he’d see your defeated face? Would he remember the bags smeared beneath your eyes? Would he know that your eyes would close soon and they’d never reopen? The next time he’d see you, if he was lucky, you’d be clutching your own cold corpse in the cramped casket.

His freckles were like constellations and if you were lucky, maybe you’d land upon the stars. Maybe the weight of everything would cease to exist and the lack of gravity, from wherever you landed, would make you float. The warmth of those brown eyes was home. Wherever you ended up, you wanted to feel that similar warmth.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly. “What’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. Why did he have to find you at this time? You tried to keep him out of the convoluted mess of your head and heart and yet, here he was. He stood in front of you like the savior you’d been praying for, but now it was too late.

The flip in your head was made. It was time for you to go. This world wasn’t meant for someone like you. You opted to roll the dice, spin the wheel, and pull the slots. You’d take your chances in the next life.

“Nothing,” you hoarsely uttered. “I’m just having one of those nights, you know?”

You were way too calm about this. He watched how frantic you were when he first rounded the corner. Your eyes looked around desperately, like you were searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Why are you lying to me?”

His voice was a sweet honey and you desperately wanted to free fall. You wanted to melt into the floor and never exist again. You couldn’t stay near Felix for too long. He’d give you another reason to stay.

“I-I should go to bed. You’re in your pajamas, you should go get some sleep.”

His head shook and his messy blonde hair shook with his head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what’s going on with you.”

Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. How were you to truly explain this weight in your heart? How could you bare the shell of this body? If you admitted it all, would he call you selfish? Would he break off this friendship and leave you alone forever?

“Felix,” you weakly got out. Fresh tears blurred your vision. You reached out to his stomach and gripped the front of his hoodie.

“What is it?”

“I-”

“You can tell me and I promise, I won’t judge you.”

You didn’t deserve his goodness or his grace. You didn’t deserve this warmth and this sunshine. This savior should have stayed in bed and let your plans unravel, but here he was. You’d been praying for a miracle, for some reason to stay, and here it was, but it made your heart hurt. You were just so tired.

“I want to kill myself.”

His eyes locked onto yours and for a brief moment, silence buzzed between the two of you. You held your breath waiting for a response and he couldn’t breathe. You didn’t have time to react as he jerked you into his arms.

He pressed your head against his shoulder and you gasped. His arms squeezed around you and created a cage of love. “You’re not leaving my sight.”

“Felix,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to speak right now. We’ll go back to my apartment and I think I have your mom’s phone number. I’ll call your mom and I-”

“You can’t!” You jerked away in a panic. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. “I don’t want to make this a big deal. She’s sleeping right now and-”

“I have to.”

Your head jerked and you tried to shove him away. He caught your hand and squeezed it tight. “Let go of me!” Your voice raised as you pulled away.

“No!”

“I’ll never forgive you!”

“I don’t care!”

“Felix, let go! I’ll stop being your friend! Don’t call her!” More tears filled your eyes. “Please, don’t call her.”

“I’ll call your mom. I’ll call your dad. I’ll call your siblings and I’ll call the cops.”

“You’ll lose me,” you weakly threatened. “I’ll never forgive you and I’ll hate you forever.”

His own tears fell from his cheeks. “Then lose me. Never talk to me again, I don’t care. As long as it means you’re still alive, I don’t care. I’ll lose you either way, just don’t give up on life.” “I’d rather deal with the weight of losing you that way than the weight of writing your obituary. The world doesn’t need me to describe how good you are when it flows from you naturally. Please. Think this through for me.”

You hated him so deeply right then and there. You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to swing and shake him. Didn’t he understand what he was doing? He was purposefully making you a burden now. Your internalized hatred of yourself would become everyone’s reality. You truly would be a problem now.

“I know you’re struggling and it’s true, I don’t know how much you’re struggling. The future must seem fickle now, but I won’t give up on you. You deserve the future that you talked about months ago and I won’t stand by and let you rip that chance from your own hands.”

“I will call whoever and I will scream at the top of my lungs to grab the attention of our neighbors. Not because I want to embarrass you, but because I love you. I won’t stop loving you, even if I have to stand here holding you and repeat the words for the rest of the night.”

“Please,” he pleaded, “just give it one more day and trust me. I will find a way to help you. Don’t let whatever demons you’re fighting win.”

It didn’t matter that your neighbors were sleeping. It didn’t matter that you were out in the open. The sobs you had been hellbent on suppressing finally slipped out. Your knees buckled and he slung you against his body.

Your head curled into his body and your shoulders shook. His arms squeezed you and he pressed your head against his chest. The heavy thump of his heartbeat made you cry harder.

Every organ inside of you was alive and every day, they fought to keep you alive. Memories were created from the people around you. Even when things got tough for others, how many times had you dropped your issues and been there when you were needed?

You hadn’t met all the people you were destined to meet yet. Still so young, you had so much time left. So many seasons to enjoy and so many new hobbies to try. Unreleased songs and new movies that you’d love.

Things don’t always last forever and neither would this discouragement and hopelessness. One day, you might be teetering on the edge of ending it all, but the future version of yourself sits on a couch at ease. They’re staring outside, drinking their favorite drink, and contentedly watching the bright yellows, blinding oranges, and soft pinks disappear as the sun goes down.

The night will not unveil the horrors in your head and it will not be feared. It will bring new adventures and the reminder that the sun will shine again. The people you love will be by your side. You’ll find new reasons to fall in love with the world around you. A bad day will just be a bad day and not stain your life worthless forever.

As Felix gripped you, he uttered a silent prayer. Whatever was out there, whether it was merely his own subconscious or a god, it helped him save you. He’d call your family and he’d find you help.

For one more day, you’d continue living, but this time, you wouldn’t be carrying the weight of your sadness and hurt alone.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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0omillo0 · 4 months ago

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Minho x Reader

Calling you clingy

angst/comfort

inspo from @ seungfl0wer!! I love their works!

You had always been the talkative, affectionate type. From the moment you met Minho, your bubbly personality had been a constant in his life, a stream of warmth and light he found himself drawn to. You loved sharing every little detail of your day with him—the funny things your coworkers said, the way the sun hit the park on your way home, or the recipe you wanted to try for dinner.

Minho had always been receptive, listening intently, laughing at your stories, and teasing you when you got overly dramatic. It became a routine, a rhythm you both cherished.

But recently, things had shifted.

Minho had been stressed, you knew that. Between his busy schedule, endless rehearsals, and looming deadlines, the pressure on him was immense. At first, you tried to give him space, being a little quieter when he came home, offering to massage his shoulders or make him his favorite tea. But when he seemed indifferent to your efforts, you couldn’t help but feel… replaced.

One evening, as you were rambling about a funny interaction at the grocery store, you noticed Minho wasn’t responding. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, his face blank.

You waited for his usual chuckle or comment. But there was nothing.

“Minho?” you tried again.

“What?!” he replied curtly, not looking up.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I was just saying—”

“Omg can you stop?” he interrupted sharply, finally looking at you, his brows furrowed. “I don’t need to hear every little thing that happens to you, Y/N. I’m tired. Just… give me some peace, okay? You’re so damn clingy.”

The words hit you like a slap. You stared at him, your throat tightening as the weight of his tone settled over you.

“…Oh- Okay.” you whispered, turning away before he could see the tears brimming in your eyes.

“Y/N, wait—” he started, but you were already walking out of the room.

The next few days were a blur.

You didn’t stop caring for him—that wasn’t who you were. Every morning, you dragged yourself out of bed earlier than usual, even though you despised waking up before Minho. You made him breakfast, carefully plating it on the table before leaving for work. You barely ate yourself, your appetite gone, but you didn’t want him to feel neglected.

When you got home in the evenings, you prepared dinner in silence, eating alone and leaving his portion on the table. By the time he came home, you were already in bed, curled up on your side and staring at the wall.

Minho tried to break the silence.

“Y/N,” he said softly one night as you lay beside him. “Can we talk?”

But you didn’t respond. You stayed still, pretending to be asleep, your heart aching at the tremor in his voice.

By the fourth day, Minho felt like he was losing his mind.

He missed your voice, your laughter, your stories. The quiet house felt oppressive, and the sight of you avoiding his gaze cut deeper than any harsh word ever could. He had tried apologizing in small ways—offering to help with chores, brushing your shoulder as he passed—but nothing worked.

That night, as you lay next to him, your back to him as usual, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely a whisper, but you heard the crack in it.

You didn’t move.

“Please,” he said, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch your hip. “Please look at me.”

Still, you stayed still, your breathing steady but your heart racing.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you bit your lip, unwilling to give in so easily.

“I love the way you talk to me,” Minho continued, his voice shaking. “I love your stories. They… they make me feel like I’m part of your world, like I’m home. And I ruined that. I ruined us. I don’t know why I said those things. I was tired, I was stressed, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry, Y/N. Please… forgive me.”

You felt a tear land on your shoulder, and your resolve crumbled. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his for the first time in days.

His face was a mess of guilt and desperation, his eyes red and glistening.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I’m not good with words. I just… I lashed out, and I hate myself for it. I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you. Please don’t shut me out.”

Your tears spilled over, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“Minho,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “You hurt me.”

“I know,” he murmured, his hands trembling as they wrapped around your waist. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I’ll never take you for granted again.”

For a moment, the only sound was your quiet crying and his whispered apologies. Then, he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

And then his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as though he was afraid you might pull away. But as you responded, it deepened, filled with a mixture of passion, regret, and unspoken promises.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied, his voice soft but resolute.

That night, Minho held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and for the first time in days, the silence between you was replaced by the warmth of reconciliation.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143

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astralis-ortus · 5 months ago

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when it's less-than-ideal

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡ a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.

you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.

lately, however,

chris has been acting really strange.

"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"

"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"

the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,

but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.

"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"

instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks—ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.

how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?

how come it took you so long to properly see chris?

"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"

and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.

"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."

chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."

you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.

"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."

and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,

because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.

"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."

it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,

chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.

"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—

"…babe?"

"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"

a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.

"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,

"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"

oh, you can definitely confirm,

the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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lov3lycosmos · 2 months ago

Note

Hii!! Can you please do a period comfort with skz? Please and thank you!!!

Yes of course anon!!

‧ ୨ period comfort with skz ୧ ‧

SUMMARY: How stray kids members comfort you during your period

Pairings: stray kids x fem!reader (separately)

Warnings: just fluff!!

v4mps note: I tried to make these as accurate as possible, but this is my opinion! If it doesn't suit your opinion, I apologize :(

‧ ୨ bangchan ୧ ‧

This man is always prepared—like always. And when I say prepared, I mean he probably has a whole app on his phone just to track your cycle, complete with notifications so he knows exactly when to stock up on your favorite snacks, grab extra pads or tampons, and make sure the heating pad is ready to go. He loves seeing the happy smile when you notice his attention and care for you.

The second he notices it's that time of the month, he’s already one step ahead—texting you things like, “I got your favorite chocolate, baby. You want anything else?” Or maybe he just shows up with a little care package because he knows what you need before you even have to ask.

And when the cramps hit? Oh, he's on it. He’s tucking you into his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach, whispering, “I got you, love. No stupid cramps are gonna hurt my baby.” If you need him to, he’ll even warm up your heating pad and hold it against your tummy himself—because no pain is touching his love on his watch.

If he finds you crying over the smallest things—like your eyeliner not matching or your hair not cooperating—Chan’s heart immediately softens. He kneels in front of you, gently wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Baby, don’t cry over this,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. With a small smile, he tilts his head. “Want me to fix it, or should we just cuddle instead?”

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ leeknow ୧ ‧

Lee Know notices before you even say anything. The slight wince, the way you press a hand to your stomach—he’s already on it. Without a word, he disappears and comes back with your heating pad, plugging it in and placing it on your lap. “You should’ve said something,” he mutters, but his touch is gentle as he tucks a blanket around you. He won’t make a big deal out of it, but he’ll make sure you have everything you need.

He acts nonchalant about it, but you know he’s paying attention. If you complain about cramps, he’ll scoff lightly. “Well, I can’t do anything about that.” But five minutes later, he’s sliding a cup of warm tea in front of you, pretending it’s no big deal. If you thank him, he just shrugs. “I just didn’t want to hear you complain later.” (But the way he subtly checks on you every few minutes totally gives him away.)

If he sees you getting emotional, he’s quick to shift your focus. He’ll plop down next to you, phone in hand, and start showing you cute cat videos like it’s urgent. “Look at this one. This is literally you.” If that doesn’t work, he’ll poke your cheek until you glare at him. “There she is. Thought I lost you for a second.” Anything to keep your mind off the discomfort.

Lee Know isn’t always the biggest on PDA, but when you’re in pain? He’s all yours. He lets you stretch out on the couch, head resting on his lap as he absentmindedly strokes your hair. “Just sleep,” he murmurs, his fingers moving soothingly against your scalp. He won’t say it outright, but the way he lets you cling to him, the way he adjusts so you’re comfortable? Yeah, he’s not letting you go until you feel better.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ changbin ୧ ‧

The moment Changbin hears you groan in pain, he’s on high alert. He rushes to your side, eyes full of concern. “Where does it hurt? What do you need? Say the word, and I got you.” He won’t rest until he’s sure you’re comfortable, tucking a blanket around you and making sure you have everything—snacks, water, even his hoodie if you want it.

If you’re feeling sluggish and mopey, he’s not letting you sink into the sadness. “C’mon, let’s go for a short walk, just to get some air.” If you refuse, he flops onto the couch next to you dramatically. “Fine, but at least let’s stretch a little.” He just wants to help you feel better, even if it means sitting there massaging your legs while making goofy faces.

He hates seeing you uncomfortable, so he’ll do anything to take your mind off the pain. He’ll put on a funny movie, tell you random stories, or even offer to do your skincare routine for you. “I’ve seen you do it a million times. How hard can it be?” (Spoiler: He gets way too into it, and you end up laughing at his concentrated expression.)

The second you lay down, Changbin immediately becomes your human pillow. He lets you rest on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. “You’re stuck with me now,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it’s all so comforting, you end up falling asleep in his arms, safe and loved.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ hyunjin ୧ ‧

If Hyunjin notices you're feeling off, he’ll instantly become the calm presence you need. He won’t rush to ask you a million questions, but he’ll quietly observe, sensing the shift in your mood. “You okay?” he’ll ask softly, his tone calm and gentle. Without making a fuss, he’ll grab your favorite blanket and wrap it around you, sitting close by, just quietly being there with you. Sometimes, he’ll rest his head on yours, offering his comfort through his presence alone.

When you’re feeling down or drained, Hyunjin knows that sometimes the best thing is a little peace and quiet. He’ll sit next to you, not demanding anything, just offering a steady, calming energy. He might gently stroke your arm or hair, his soft touch making you feel grounded. “I’m here, you don’t need to talk,” he’ll whisper, letting you know that just being near him is enough to help you relax.

Hyunjin has a way of bringing a calm vibe even in the quietest moments. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, he’ll quietly pull you into his arms, letting you rest your head on his chest. He’ll hum a soft tune, his voice low and soothing, creating a peaceful atmosphere that helps take your mind off any discomfort. “Just breathe, everything will be okay,” he’ll murmur, as you close your eyes, feeling safe in his embrace.

Even when he’s being calm and gentle, Hyunjin’s attention to you never wavers. If you mention cramps or feeling off, he’ll quietly get up to make you tea or get your favorite snacks, all without making it a big deal. When he returns, he’ll simply hand them to you with a small smile, his voice quiet but filled with care. “Here you go. Take it easy for now, okay?” His soft, caring nature always shines through in the simplest moments.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ han ୧ ‧

When Han notices you're feeling off, he’s the perfect mix of dramatic and calm. He’ll dramatically gasp and clutch his chest, “Noooo, not my baby,” but his soft, concerned gaze tells you he’s genuinely worried. He'll immediately get to work, grabbing your favorite snacks or a cozy blanket, all while maintaining that cool, quiet energy. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m here,” he’ll reassure you, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of sincerity that makes you feel safe.

If you're feeling overwhelmed, Han’s playfully dramatic side will come out to distract you. He’ll dramatically flop onto the couch beside you, letting out a huge sigh as if the whole world is crashing down. “The pain, the agony... I can’t bear to watch you suffer,” he’ll say, trying not to laugh as he gives you a playful look. He knows it’ll lighten your mood, and he’ll gently coax a smile out of you without being too much.

Though he’s playful, Han knows when to keep things quiet. He’ll sit next to you, quietly rubbing your back or running his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and steady. He won’t force conversation, just giving you the space to relax while still showing you that he’s there. “I’m right here… just rest, okay?” His calm, comforting presence wraps around you like a warm hug.

When you need comfort, Han’s sweetness comes out in the softest ways. He’ll pull you into his lap, his arms wrapped around you as he murmurs softly. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep... I’ve got you.” He’s quiet, but his gentle touches and soothing words make you feel like everything’s going to be okay, even when the world feels like it’s spinning.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ felix ୧ ‧

Felix, being the sunshine he is, will first make sure you're absolutely comfortable. He’ll tiptoe around the room quietly, making sure to dim the lights, as he knows a soft atmosphere helps you feel better. He’ll gently ask, “Do you want me to play your favorite playlist? I know the soft songs help when you’re not feeling well.” He’ll make you feel like a priority, always quietly moving to cater to your needs without making you feel like a burden.

When you're feeling down, Felix has a very nurturing side that shines. He won’t just offer a quick solution; he’ll really dive into the comfort routine. “How about a warm bath? I’ll make it nice and relaxing, and we can watch a show after,” he’ll suggest with a gentle smile. He’s meticulous about the little things, running the bath at the perfect temperature, lighting a candle, and making sure the towels are soft and ready when you’re done. It’s all about making sure you feel pampered.

Felix might be the type to prepare a surprise snack for you, but in a subtle way. He won’t make a big deal out of it; he’ll just quietly come back with your favorite treat and a cup of tea, setting it beside you with a soft grin. “I thought you might need a little something,” he’ll say, offering the snack with a sense of quiet joy. He doesn’t need praise for it, he just loves to see you taken care of and happy, even in the smallest ways.

If you're feeling really bad, Felix will make sure you're completely relaxed in his presence. He won’t try to push you to talk, but rather let you know that he’s here for you. He might offer to play a gentle game or even suggest you both take a nap together, where he’ll wrap his arms around you to keep you warm. “I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry. Just let me know if you need anything,” he’ll say, his voice soft and full of sincerity. It’s all about offering that quiet, protective comfort that makes you feel like everything will be okay with him by your side.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ seungmin ୧ ‧

Seungmin isn’t the type to be overly dramatic or overly soft, but when he notices you’re uncomfortable, he steps up in his own way. Without saying much, he’ll disappear for a few minutes and return with a heating pad, a glass of water, and whatever snack he knows you like. He won’t make a big deal out of it, just setting everything beside you with a simple, “Here. Take this.” It’s his way of showing care without making you feel fussed over.

If he catches you whining about cramps or feeling miserable, he won’t sugarcoat things. “You act like you’re dying every month,” he’ll tease with a smirk, but the second you glare at him, he’s already adjusting your blanket and tucking you in. He’s playful, but he knows when to draw the line. After his teasing, he’ll sit next to you and absentmindedly rub your leg or hold your hand, quietly making sure you’re okay.

Seungmin’s love language during your period is distraction. He knows sitting around focusing on the pain won’t help, so he’ll casually toss you the TV remote. “Pick something to watch, and don’t make it something boring.” If you’re not up for a show, he’ll challenge you to a game on your phone, knowing that getting competitive will make you temporarily forget about how bad you’re feeling.

If you’re extra tired and just want to rest, Seungmin won’t be over-the-top affectionate, but he’ll stay close. He might sit on the floor beside the couch, scrolling on his phone, but every once in a while, he’ll check on you with a soft, “You still alive?” If you fall asleep, he won’t move, letting you rest peacefully while he stays right there—quietly looking after you in the most Seungmin way possible.

-♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎--♥︎-

‧ ୨ jeongin ୧ ‧

Jeongin may not always know exactly what to do when you’re feeling bad, but he tries his best in his own thoughtful way. The first thing he does is pull out his phone and search for the best ways to help with cramps or discomfort. “Okay, so Google says heating pads and snacks help... I can do that!” He’ll rush off to get everything, sometimes bringing back a completely random snack just because he thought it might cheer you up.

If he sees you curled up in pain, he’ll frown and sit beside you, resting his chin on his hand while observing you closely. “You look like you’re about to cry,” he’ll say, a little too bluntly, before quickly adding, “Do you want me to make you laugh? I’ll do something really dumb if it helps.” He’ll start making weird faces or doing a terrible dance just to see you smile, his own laughter filling the room when he sees it working.

Jeongin’s way of comforting you is casual but sweet. He won’t always say much, but he’ll stay close, scrolling on his phone next to you or playing a game while occasionally glancing over. Every so often, he’ll nudge your arm and say, “You good?” If you mumble that you’re not, he’ll sigh dramatically and hand you his hoodie. “Here. Hoodies fix everything.”

If you’re feeling extra exhausted, Jeongin will get a little softer without making it obvious. He’ll let you rest your head on his lap while he plays with your hair, humming softly without even realizing it. When he notices you getting sleepier, he’ll whisper, “Just sleep, I’ll wake you up if anything happens.” His quiet, reassuring presence makes you feel safe, and though he might pretend he’s not doing anything special, he secretly loves taking care of you in these little ways.

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finnbbl · 7 months ago

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Skz when you suffer from PTSD - 3RACHA

Skz Fake Texts

Prompt: You show visible signs of ptsd, skz is there with you through it all the way

Genre: Angst/Comfort

Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Implied SA, triggered by loud noises and scent, trauma responses. lmk if i missed anything

Requests: OPEN

Masterlist

Please read disclaimer in masterlist

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz smau #skz x reader #stray kids smau #bang chan #changbin #han #han jisung #skz angst #skz comfort #stray kids comfort #stray kids x reader #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts

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moon-ttokki-x · 9 days ago

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not your doll - (bf!bang chan x reader)

pairing: bf!bang chan x reader

summary: chan comes home upset from the latin american leg of the dominate tour.

genre: reverse comfort, idol!au, angsty, mentions of exhaustion, lots of crying, skz deserve better. reader comforts channie, mentions of delusion, mentions of eating and drinking

a/n: yall who think what happened in brazil is funny, or think it was 'just a joke' or 'fans showing support' get tf off my blog. i don't wanna see or talk to anyone who thinks what happened was okay. leave skz alone, leave chris alone. that man is not your punching bag, he's not responsible for fixing all your fucking problems, keeping everyone happy, or in charge of anyone's but his own happiness. that shit you gotta do yourself. this is so fucking disappointing, i'm ashamed to call myself a stay at the moment. let chris live his damn life and let the kids do the same. fuck yall 'stays'. if you were a real stay you wouldn't be doing this shit.

i stand with skz.

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

"Love?" You call softly, peeking around the bedroom door frame. "Did you wanna come and eat something?"

All you get in response is a muffled 'no' and the sound of shuffling as Chan shifts slightly on the bed. The warm lamplight from the bedside tables spill across his back, highlighting the skin in a rosy, haloed glow.

You sigh and pad over to him softly, sitting on the bed. "I know you might not feel like it, but you need some good food after all that travelling."

Chan shakes his head again, further mussing his unbrushed hair. The curls are squashed and fluffy from him burrowing his head into the pillows, but he doesn't seem to care. Not once has he lifted his head to take a breath of air, and you sigh and push his head gently to the side to do it for him.

He turns his head away, facing the opposite direction; you can hear the shudder from his lungs as he gulps in the fresh coldness of the air; you'd set the thermostat colder, just as he likes it, but he hadn't seemed to take any notice.

You sigh again, running a gentle hand down the soft, albeit slightly dry skin of his back. His duffel bag and suitcase is still in the corner of the room, the zip on his bag half undone as if he'd had the intention of unpacking, but he hasn't.

You'd left him to sort himself out and shower before coming to eat, but it seemed he'd just stripped himself of his outfit and tossed himself on the bed.

Couldn't say you blamed him.

Chan speaks then, low and muffled from the pillow. "I need to go to the company."

"It hasn't even been twenty minutes since you've been home, love," you chide him gently. "Just rest., hmm? All of that can come tomorrow. It doesn't look like you can even move right now..."

Chan groans and burrows his head further into the pillows; you take a soft fistful of his hair and tug it lightly, guiding his head to the side. Your heart lurches.

Chan is crying.

His makeup is smudged; you immediately rest your hands on his shoulders. They're tense as rocks. A black streak of eyeshadow has smeared itself across the white pillowcase, as well as some of his concealer; he doesn't seem to care, and neither do you.

"Channie, my love," you say as gently as you can. You can't hide the worry on your face. "What's wrong?"

That's a useless question. You know exactly what's wrong.

He sits up suddenly, as if to get up, but he collapses on his knees, digging them into the soft sheets. He throws his hands out.

"It's not fair," he cries desperately. "I do everything I can to make things work, and then it all just gets thrown to the side... I can't even open my mouth anymore without my words being twisted..."

You sit there, eyes wide and bewildered, watching this outburst. It's so oddly unlike him to do this, but you know exactly what he's talking about.

"I- The kids, too, they have to deal with all of this, I couldn't wait for us to leave because of what happened at the hotel... They were taking videos of us, videos of one of the kids just standing outside on the balcony, minding his own business, and I couldn't sleep all night because of them chanting, I just-" He hiccups, a tear spilling from each eye like a shattered crystal.

"I just want it all to go right, but it doesn't, and no matter what I do it's not enough," he keels over then, and you pull him into your lap. He lets his lower half kneel over the bed, his face buried in your thighs.

Your vision starts to blur, and a tear drops into his hair, but neither of you take notice. "Channie..."

"I chose this life, Y/n, I chose all of this, I thought I could handle it but I'm not so sure anymore. I want to be happy, and perform without worrying about all of this, I want everyone to just leave me alone..." He's crying freely now, hands gripping your hips as his back shakes, and it's all you can do not to start crying yourself.

That sadness is quickly taken over by a wave of disapproval and anger, anger at the people who dare treat your lover like this, treat his group like performing monkeys at a circus, to be poked and prodded at.

How dare they.

It's not fair. He's right. And you know you can't fix it, make it all better, kiss it healed like you have so many times before. And it's that feeling of helplessness, that overwhelming powerlessness, that makes you lean down and whisper fiercely in Chan's ear.

"Listen to me," you whisper. "It doesn't matter who did it, it doesn't matter if they thought it was right. I can't sit here and tell you I can fix it, because I can't, and neither can you, because it's not your problem, it will never be your problem. You are not their toy. Channie, my love, all you need to do is keep going. That's it, without looking back.

"Forget about those people who pretend to be Stays, who are nothing more than obsessed delusional idiots. I know it's hard. They are so completely and utterly lost in their own worlds, and you can't tie yourself into knots to fix them, because it's impossible.

"I know it hurts, love, and I know it's frustrating, especially for the kids too. None of you deserve to be treated like that, like you have to be filmed and screamed at and all of those other things-"

"But if I don't let them, then they all start hating me," his eyes are teary, utterly exhausted with emotion.

"Chris, you are not a doll," you say firmly, cupping his face. "You are not responsible for everyone's happiness. You are responsible for your own joy. So are the kids. I know you feel like you have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it doesn't mean that you have to take everyone's bullshit alongside it too...

"You are a musician, an artist, not a miracle worker or some sort of magician that can take everyone's troubles away or perform to everyone's unrealistic standards. And as for those idiots who stalked you outside your hotel, JYP is taking measures to deal with it. And he says it's fine if you want to take a break for a while."

"I don't want to," he says quietly, inhaling your scent as you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. "I just wanted to be home with you, and I am."

"Love..."

"Please," he says, quieter. His tears have slowed. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. It makes me angry, and being angry is exhausting. I'm already exhausted."

You sigh and crack a tiny smile, tapping his cheek lightly. Already you can see his resilience taking effect. Nothing keeps him down for long, your Chan.

"I'll let it go if you promise to come and eat something," you say. "Otherwise, I'm gonna call the kids to spend the night here and they'll eat all of the food I made for you-"

"Okay, okay," he groans, heaving himself upright. "I'm coming. Please don't call them, I've lost enough sleep trying to keep them all in line."

You laugh and kiss him. His lips are slightly chapped, and you tsk softly into the kiss as he stands up, taking you with him.

"Y/n," he murmurs, burning hands slipping to your waist.

"Thought you were too tired," you giggle.

He doesn't respond, instead tugging you closer. You reluctantly pull back and poke his side, making him gasp.

He pulls back too, fighting a sheepish look as you stare pointedly at the bathroom door. "Go shower, then come eat. Now."

He rolls his eyes and steals another kiss to your cheek as he heads towards the bathroom. "Fine."

Chuckling, you make your way to the door, heading to the kitchen. Your feet slow at the door threshold, and you turn to look back at Chan as he busies himself with pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his drawers. Even exhausted and upset, he's still beautiful. Your heart sinks a little as you watch the tear tracks on his face glisten under the lamplight, but you don't bring it up. Instead-

"Channie," you say softly.

He looks up, a black hoodie in one hand.

Your voice is gentle, almost hesitant. "It'll be okay, you know that, right?"

He nods quietly, solemn as you've ever seen him. "I know."

You feel your lips curving into a soft but sad smile. "I love you."

He blinks. "I love you more."

"That's not possible," you say teasingly as you turn and head towards the kitchen.

His laugh echoes through the house.

a/n: none bc i'm fucking pissed.

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sunboki · 3 months ago

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⎯ for eternity longer. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🍼 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. pregnancy! au, dad! channie au, overall so so fluffy, comfort, slighttt angst if you squint

WORD COUNT. 6.4k words ☆ 30 minute read

WARNINGS. worry about delivery complications, cursing (??), anxiety, implied intercourse, regards to gender

AUG'S NOTES. i think channie would be an amazing dad :) just a thought i decided to place to paper (in this case, digitally). thank you for waiting so patiently!! please enjoy <3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Christopher Bahng had intentions upon one day being a father, but when the news of a little one on the way becomes the forefront of a life he’d initially spent with one world, you, he’s quickly introduced to the second world he’ll come to adore, a baby.

or alternatively :

Blossoming beginnings, and the bump.

“Channie, baby,”

His name is whispered between sleepy breaths, brows knitted where your eyes attempt at focusing amidst a slumbering haze.

The meager vision granted from a candle paves view to your husband, currently resting his cheek against the soft bump of your belly, pressing the occasional kiss there.

“It’s so cute,” He mumbles, tracing shapes along the skin, eyes crinkling into the dimpled-smile you’ve come to adore.

“‘S late.”

Offering the remark, you smooth a thumb along his jaw, dipping down to trace his bottom lip and earning a small peck against the digit in reply, chocolate irises flickering up to your face with so much love you fear you’re melting.

“I know,” Chris whispers where his lips press to your thumb, voice muffled. “I’m sorry just—“

One chaste kiss to your belly later and he cracks a smile.

“Just love it.”

Another kiss, then another.

“Love you, love this. I’m so happy.”

You are my world, he professes wordlessly, and you scorn the heaviness of your eyes in shielding him from view, the inability for your vocal cords to utter those same three words as you drift back to sleep.

And this is my second world, Chris thinks to himself, fighting slumber to gaze at you just a moment longer, savor.

Because he couldn’t explain how lucky he is, and how beautiful you are, and how warm he feels, his head fuzzy and jumbled into mushy bliss.

A baby, and the thought alone makes him want to squeal.

Chris had yet to ever be hit by a tsunami (thank goodness for that), but he thinks he’s found an equivalent to the feeling.

That equivalent being a particular call while in the studio, an unsettlingly studious Han Jisung seated behind him on the couch while Changbin stands in the recording room, pointing out things in need of fine tuning.

So when you call, he’s led to believe it could be regarding dinner, maybe a date preposition away from his busied schedule.

Yet, upon hearing a sniffle, his eyes round to the size of saucers, index aptly missing where he’d click his mouse, drawing the attention of his fellow producers, their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

“Chris.. baby, I know this is so.. so sudden but,” Between your hiccups and his heart racing, he reruns everything that could’ve gone amiss. He knew you were running late when it came to your period thanks to the cycle-tracking app on his phone, but then again, usually it’d miraculously show up.

Maybe he’d said something? Forgotten something?

Birthday, anniversary, a family member passing?

His head fills with a plethora of possibilities, too many to pinpoint.

“Baby I,” You pause, and Chris rises up to slip to the corner of the room, shushing you gently.

“Hey, hey honey, ‘need you to take deep breaths, okay? It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me whenever you’re ready.” He consoles, shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt at warding the nerves.

A sharp inhale and then-

“We’re having a baby, Chris. I’m pregnant.”

It’s hard for you to even believe, and Chris swears his stomach jumped to his throat for a moment, making hurried eye contact with an evidently confused Han and Changbin from across the studio.

Pregnant.

Immediately abandoning his work, he grants the two a hurried nod they simply wave in response to, fervently racing from the building and somehow managing to avoid a ticket on his 20-mile-over-the-speed-limit drive home, rushing through the doorway to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, let you cry as much as you need.

Hell, he’s not the one carrying the baby anyway. You’re the one in need of all the fretting.

As if he didn’t fret over you anyway.

Tender fingers ease back the strands of hair from your face, pressing kiss after kiss to your sniffling frame.

If you want to keep the baby, if you need time to think, time to be alone, he’s ready for that. All of it.

Though contraceptives were always in play when it came to the bedroom, it seemed some things would remain out of control.

“I’m.. hic.. I’m keeping it, okay?”

And he’s okay with that, okay with anything his beloved decides upon, thumbing the tears from your pretty face to place a slow kiss to your lips.

On this presumably routine Thursday of his, Chris finds out he’s going to be a Dad.

If there was an acute title to cover the months of your pregnancy, it would be: Ways Christopher Bahng Has Lost His Mind, A Saga.

Plus the bump, of course.

As for today, at a darling twelve weeks, Chris’s cup of coffee grows cold the longer he entertains a call from Jisung—currently being berated for failing to give them even the slightest clue what was going on until dropping the news.

..In which ensues a screaming Hyunjin in the background, Minho’s snide jokes, Changbin’s silent shock, and the evident awe of the surrounding members leering by the phone where the friend group went for drinks.

Minus the dad-to-be.

”So.. Daddy-O, how’s the father thing going for you?” Jisung offers after a moment, his snickering followed by Chris’s bemused scoff.

“A dream,” He replies, running a hand through curly brown strands wound into charming coils from earlier steam, having stepped from the shower moments ago.

It was true, every bit.

To think that you, his love he’s worried more about than anyone, spent countless nights awake thinking of has now granted him the greatest gift of a lifetime leaves him elated.

Trust, the first ultrasound he cried as if he was the baby.

Of course, failing to give their leader a second of reprieve, his remark earns a cacophony of swooning and cringing in response to the sappiness.

Nonetheless, since the announcement he’s organized an update in schedule. More work from home, more paychecks cashed into maternity magazines and things he learns with time in order to support your pregnancy, and tagging along to each and every checkup.

With you already sleeping and him returning late from the studio, the night is slow, quiet.

Well, after he hangs up.

”Hey sweetness, ‘sorry for waking you.”

Watching your face crinkle up as the bed dips beneath his weight, he reaches a hand forward, sweeping the hair from your face as your husband spoons you close to his back, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief.

Your smell, your warmth, touch.

He’s far too smitten to be healthy.

But then again, is there any remedy to adoration?

“Busy at the studio?” You murmur from your curled up spot, only just beginning to get used to sleeping on your side.

Of the many adjustments.

“Mm,” A nod nudges at your back, his fingertips—oh so careful as they roam—settling on your stomach, holding the skin with reverence you can’t help but hum in response to.

“I cannot believe you,” Begun with a bemused scoff, you earn your husbands grunt of confusion and yet another laugh on your end.

“There’s barely a bump and they’ve got you wrapped around their finger already.”

This, predictably, results in Chris’s boyish whine.

“‘S not my fault,” He groans like a petulant teenager, nosing at the nape of your neck.

“Just love you.”

His voice is a mere utterance amidst the fan overhead, and you have to crane to hear him.

“And I’m going to be learning to love someone else soon.”

A soft squeeze to your belly.

“How exciting.”

Twenty weeks, and your big journey comes in the form of grocery shopping, something you insisted upon doing alone (much to Chris’s fretting).

Although he tries his best in not being a mother hen, it’s beyond difficult without his instinctive worry butting in, so nervous for a reason he himself can’t even pinpoint.

Is he worried about you? Is he excited about the baby?

Endless questions swim in his mind, dappling a world he once knew as black and white into shades of pastel, with charming rubber duckies and pacifiers to boot.

It’s a new world, one full of unfamiliar things and little surprises along the way.

But he’s made his promise to lay off the stressing as much as he can, knowing you need time for you most of all before becoming new parents.

Crouched over the tiny home studio he’s procured, your husband arduously searches through files—sending the majority over to Jisung and Changbin for revisions back at the main studio.

From the corner or his vision does he see you and—

Ah.

There you stand, clad in a sweater of yours tucked into a long, flower-patterned skirt—just enough to show off the bump, and he swears he’s looking at you with heart-eyes.

Gorgeous.

If not more.

Yet another reason why Chris has lost his mind.

You’re more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen, and he doubts that factor will change for the rest of his life. Even when you’re emotional and begin growing insecure, when your feet hurt or when your cravings grow too volatile, he adores.

Too much sometimes he fears his heart will beat from his chest.

“Hi, sweetness.”

The words are a bit hoarse, spoken as if he were uttering the endearment through a tube.

“Hi, Channie.”

Shoot him.

Joking.

Kind of.

You’re too cute. He’s going to have a heart attack.

Looking like that, cupid has his job cut out for him.

“You headed out?”

Reaching for your bag does Chris rise from his chair, padding over to gather your face in his hands and press a slow kiss to your lips you soak up, your own hands winding into curly strands he groans in response to.

“Mm,” He begins after a moment, kiss after kiss pressed to your jaw, down your neck, by your earlobe his teeth nip at. “I’m getting déjà vu on how the baby got here, hm?”

Spurring your laughter and a light smack to his shoulder in response, his warm hands slip down to cradle your belly, a final touch followed by one last kiss before you’re off.

It’s much too easy to fall in love with this man over and over again.

Of many surprises throughout your pregnancy, Lee Minho knowing about babies happened to be yet another. That, and seeing him at the grocery store in the first place.

The baby food aisle is more than daunting, and while the determined part of you crooned about “making it yourself” and taking the time to mash up each and every carrot and apple slice, the sensible part knew the moment you were discharged from the hospital after delivery, there was no chance you’d take on such a task.

“This one’s good.”

Having been greeted with a small wave of his hand and quieted footsteps approaching close, the dancer peers into your cart, brows lifted in silent acquisition where he points to a brand of mashed banana purée.

How he knows this baby food is good is beyond you.

Then again, Minho has always been peculiar.

“Hm? Any other recommendations?” You ponder, deciding to entertain his conversation and gaining plenty of recommendations whilst roaming about in the process.

Though, that’s before a frivolous little boy comes blindly tottering along, his clumsy limbs aimed straight for you prior to Minho’s careful step shielding you, the panicked mother steering the toddler away with endless apologies.

About to thank him, he seems to beat you to it.

“Mm? Need to sit down?” Observant eyes flitting over your form, he places an assuring hand to the middle of your back you can’t help but feel appreciative of.

It’s not that Minho isn’t kind, he’s usually just.. more subtle about it. Putting extra food a member likes on their plate without them noticing, making sure everyone feels included during dinners.

So for him to be a bit more upfront about it is.. sweet.

Well, until a wry smile tugs at his lips in amusement.

“‘Think you can handle that? A toddler like that?”

And.. there’s the Minho you’re used to.

“I think..” The thought comes to you as you venture, his hand remaining where it lingers upon your sweater-clad back as you make for the checkout line.

“The baby will look more like Chris.”

This beckons a cocked brow, evident mischief on his face.

“What, balding at twenty-six?”

You were thinking cute, with Chris’s curls and big brown eyes but— yeah, that too apparently. Your husband would both burst out laughing and burst into tears if he were here, the mental image bringing a smile to your lips.

Nevertheless, you spend your time with the feline-like companion cracking not-so-funny jokes and snide but playful remarks, a silent “thank you” mouthed when he lifts the grocery bags from your hands to carry to the car.

“Say, what’re you doing over here anyway?”

“Mmh?” He perks up, fluffy bangs fringing beneath a bucket hat upon his head, the slow gust of an occasional breeze announcing Winter’s gradual departure, moseying on to Spring.

“Ah,” Bunny-like teeth peek from his upper lip when his lips part, hoisting a single bag of his own upward. “Food for the kitties.”

Of course.

The corner of your lips quirk into a grin.

Though, before you’re given the chance to slip into the front seat, he points again, regarding your bump this time.

“Should stop by sometime,” He starts, pausing before glancing down to your feet. “Or I can come to you two if you’re not up to it.”

There it is, the tiny shred of consideration you treasure, one so swift you may miss it if you aren’t listening closely that warms your heart effortlessly.

“The kitties would knead your belly,” Mumbled quieter than the rest, a giggle stirs from his chest, wishing you off after a few moments the same way he greeted you: a wave and a small, awkward, tight-lipped smile.

And on your ride home, you decide upon giving Chris a call.

“Do you think the baby will start balding early?”

A chaste silence and some crackling from the other side of the line and then-

“What.”

“‘M outside the studio, baby.”

“You’re what?”

A second “what”, after the balding question those few weeks ago.

Chris wants to think tricks are being played on him after having pleaded for you to stay home and wait to be pampered when he returns, but it seemed the leader—with his own stubborn tirade of seven—had forgotten his wife was equally as stubborn, and that if you were adamant on something, there’s no chance you’d budge.

And so, as the ultimate pushover(which he’ll admit himself) of a husband, he simply sighs, awaiting your precious, slightly-waddling figure making towards them from the elevator.

Ah, right.

The waddle.

Oh if it doesn’t make his heart soar.

You’re almost surreal, with your soft, rounded frame and sweet, sweet eyes making him simply want to keep you in a hug forever.

From beside him, Hyunjin starts into a sing-song cacophony of: “The Mrs.’s is here” in tandem with your entrance, resulting in Chris’s light smack to his friend’s shoulder and the reddening of his ears as he both tries (and fails) to focus on new tracks.

So now, in occupying the couch behind him with Han on one side and Felix on your other, you spend your time giggling over videos on the freckled blond’s phone, chowing down on a bag of potato chips placed between you and Han, entertaining light conversation with Changbin, and sharing those momentary glances with your husband.

Quiet looks, with his face drained from the workload not failing to light up where he meets your eyes, your own warming happily.

“Come home,” does your eyes speak.

“Just a little longer,” he replies without words.

As the day stretches it’s exhaustion, waning a warm hue into evening sunset, Chris pads over, slow and wary where your sleepy form props upon the couch, fuzzy-sock-clad feet elevated on a pillow courtesy of Hyunjin’s matter-a-fact scolding to lower the swelling.

“I’m letting the little one listen,” He whispers, this squeaky, cheery giggle leaving his lips where he places the headphones once in hand overtop your belly, the low hum of their newest, unreleased track faintly resounding against the skin you can’t help but grin at.

It’s a scary thing, you think for a moment.

And then, just happy.

So you’ll cling to that happiness, no matter how fleeting.

And a tiny nudge against the skin, a kick, tells you someone else is clinging to that happiness as well.

“Yah.. even if it’s almost spring, there’s still some breeze! Stay warm! Don’t try being a spring chicken!” Clicking his tongue in softened contempt, Han claps his hands resolutely, face scrunched up in conviction as the ever-adorable maknae, Jeongin, eases his jacket over your shoulders.

Resulting in the group’s ace’s squeal of affection and a harsh smack to Minho’s thigh, the older of the two fixes him with a glare Han fails to notice through his cooing, too busy admiring the bump peeking through the jacket.

It seems Chris isn’t the only one growing into a worried mess, and your trip home from the studio you press to take alone is filled with their hollering and well-wishes, the group having opted out for drinks knowing you’d be the odd one out with your mug of water relative to the bubbling of a beer, a matter you find heart-warming.

No less, you spend your night anticipating the arrival of a very sleepy Chris, busying yourself trying to follow a recipe without gagging at the most random of things.

Feebly managing through placing the tray in the oven, you deflate as a pair of long-awaited, warm arms come wrapping around you.

A mere lift from his hands, holding the weight of a nearly 30-week bump feels heavenly, and you simply groan, head lolling back against his shoulder, welcoming the kisses pressed to your cheek, neck.

Because as much as his own nerves are afire, Chris knows more than anything it’s pivotal for you to be taken care of as well. Making breakfast before heading out in the mornings, sending you little texts to remind you to stay hydrated.

Tiny things you hold close to your being, even if he isn’t aware.

Thank you, spoken amidst his subtle care.

I know, I love you, answered upon joining you in your nightly skincare.

“Ah? Really?”

Chatter after chatter fills the small bathroom, your spare bedroom already ransacked of its contents in making room for a nursery.

As for the conversation at hand, Chris fills you in on his dango pudding obsession while you busy yourself in applying moisturizer to his skin, a silly, matching headband to yours pulling back the hair from his face.

“Jisung got me hooked on it,” He grumbles, lashes fluttering down to fondly watch where you press a kiss to his lips before applying vaseline there, his fingers instinctively reaching for your pajamas like a clingy child.

You don’t mind.

“How’re you feeling?” He murmurs after a moment, head tipped quizzically, the slight knit of his brows in concern you wish to scowl at.

Sometimes it’s harder not swooning when it comes to your husband.

“You know me,” You start, scorning your ability to hear each thump of your heart in your chest within the quietness of the room. “I’m okay, yeah? The fatigue is just a pain, that’s all.”

His arms finding purchase on either side of the bathroom counter where he cages you in, you’re quickly reminded how this pregnancy came to be the longer you stare at his biceps, the veins littering upwards from his hands.

Not fair.

“You tell me, hm? If you need me to work from home more days, yeah? I will, you know that, honey.”

And of course he’s like some sort of forbidden fruit, so sweetly wholesome, sweet generally, when he looks so good.

Too good.

For a time again, not fair.

“Chris.”

Screw it. You’re pregnant, and rightfully hot and bothered.

A little thing about pregnancy that no one had bothered to let you in on? There’s never been a greater time in your life that you’ve felt this horny.

Plus, an okay from the doctor is an okay to you.

The other okay is his arms, and the utterly obscene things running through your head just looking at them as your hand finds his jaw to hold.

“I’d cry from how good you are to me if it weren’t for the fact I’m unbelievably worked up right now.”

Slowly do your arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him closer where a smile tugs at your lips, watching his own lips part in a shaky exhale, pupils dilating tenfold as your words sink in.

And it’s Chris’ turn in reminding himself how the pregnancy came to be.

“So let’s do something about it, hm?”

The press of his nose into your neck causes your lashes to flutter, cursing the streaks of sunlight peering through the blinds muddling already bleary vision. A warm grip beckons you closer snuggled against his bare chest, hands instinctively coming to soothe over your belly.

Habitual touch, comfort.

A dream, last night had been. As for now, you bathe in the afterglow, his scent enveloping you like an embrace you can’t bring yourself to pull away from.

“Think I’ll be a good dad?”

And then comes the quiet conversation. Soft and nearly inaudible, his breath tickling your shoulder.

“I know you will,” Comes your own reply, muffled against the pillow, a kiss pressing to your shoulder in appreciation.

“I just-“

He takes a breath, weighing the thought.

It’s a coarse silence, one you know not to interrupt. He considers his words like this, a characteristic you’ve come to adore over the years. The blinking fast, the hesitant humming.

“You know how much I look up to my Dad, and I worry I just- I won’t live up to tha—“

Now it’s your turn to step in, before he goes over his head and blames himself again and again for a matter never his responsibility. The selfless one, who you remind must take care of himself too.

Amid simple kisses or compliments scribbled on sticky notes, you find love between the lines.

“Chris. Chris, baby, listen to me. This baby loves you, I hope you know that. And I hope you know that I love you, and whatever happens next happens next.”

Inhaling slowly, you roll over to face your husband.

Covers drawn up to see only his eyes, it’s near foolish the smile you let on.

“You said it yourself, we’re in this together, okay? If we change, we change together. We move? We move together.”

His fervent nod, dearest eyes gleaming all watery make your heart clench.

“This is our first time being parents, you can’t expect to be perfect, yeah? All we can do is try,”

Careful hands come to cup his face, kissing his lips through the fabric of the bedsheets.

“And you’re trying so hard, so thank you. I don’t feel like I praise you enough for all that you do for me, hm?”

He’s quiet before soft, heart wrenching sniffles are heard, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and grumbling to himself like a toddler.

“I feel like.. such an idiot.. crying when you’re the one carrying the baby.. hic.. Plus ‘s my.. my job to take care of you, yeah? ‘M your husband..”

Gently smoothing along his waterline in hushed reassurance does the man pull himself upward, slow to climb atop your form, littering your face in feverish pecks you can’t help but laugh at while the heels of your palms gently push at his jaw in playful aversion.

“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” He noses at your chin, the only sound between the both of you slow breaths and the occasional sniffle, the heat of his skin burning through you like wildfire.

Chris has become a warm blanket for your cold winter, even more so during the pregnancy.

“And you are going to eat eggs.”

In which earns your groan, regarding the food scornfully for its rude manner of sparking nausea. Of the many things nauseating you these days. Volatile in manner.

“‘S good for the baby. ‘Just a bite.”

Another groan, swatting lightly at his shoulder in retaliation.

Prior to an ingenious idea breaching the forefront of your mind.

A tiny detail you’d been holding in, with your lack of fondness for an extravagant baby shower or a gender reveal, you’d planned a morning-in to be the perfect timing for an announcement.

Now coming to be this morning.

Because while Chris had been running to the car, you’d been in the thick of a sonogram all those weeks back, a dirty little secret having been told that the nurse swore to keep quiet.

“Chris.”

Eyebrows lifting in gentle curiosity, you want to hate the way your mischievous streak is melting, the stubbornness fading into your own glossy eyes and trembling lips, and a whole rush of distress and concern washes overtop the man above you like a bucket of ice cold water.

“It’s a girl.”

A sharp gasp, a choked sniffle.

“We’re having a baby girl.”

To say Chris cried like a baby for an additional time that morning would be a mass understatement.

Cried and cried and cried endlessly, before calling his parents first and crying more, then Hannah, then the guys.

Face all puffy and happy, you spent your day waltzing around the kitchen to the low buzz of the radio seated upon the far corner of your counter, sharing kisses he can’t seem to get enough of and too much smiling it made your cheeks ache.

Currently thirty-six weeks and perilously close to the awaited due date, the faint clatter in your periphery earns a startled huff of air, once-napping eyes flickering open, lids heavy from past slumbering.

A common occurrence, the constant sleeping, fatigue overboard. Although morning sickness has graciously subsided, the sleepiness is endless in her torrents.

As for now, each slow lull of the rocking chair the guys had assembled a few minutes prior continues her magic in beckoning you sleepy and sleepier.

“Shh dumbass— you’re gonna wake her up!”

And… beckons whisper-screaming from the group who had insisted upon helping set up the nursery.

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!”

Han and Felix’s grumbled argument is returned with a scolding “Shh!” from Seungmin, inducing yet another—however brisk—silence, the faint hint of a chortle from your husband falling upon near deafened ears while drifting in and out of consciousness.

Nonetheless, the group continues to build, having now moved onto assembling furniture after the room’s paint had been finished. A mellow pink, not too muted nor saturated, highlighted when the room grows aglow with drifting rays of sunlight.

Hitched just to the right of the window, the crib’s being assembled, Changbin arduously working to follow directions, Minho taking a break on one of the couch cushions with a popsicle lodged between his lips.

Surprising, considering the slow shift in temperature. Autumn makes its entrance, summer waving a goodbye hand in the now-shorter days and a subtle breeze detected in early mornings.

A September baby, it seems.

“Corner guards? Do we have corner guards?”

An ever organized (and rather caffeine-frenzied) Hyunjin reviews the list once more, having spent his night prior holed up in the studio for recording, obstinate in participating in the nursery despite the ushers to get some sleep instead.

“I have to be here, it’s my duty as an Uncle”, were his exact words, haughtily prancing about as if some entitled interior designer.

And yet he brought alive an enthusiasm like no other. So the guys let him stay without dragging him back home.

In the distance, a low strum of a guitar echoes, Seungmin’s soulful cadence recognizable amidst any crowd.

A lullaby for the baby, but you had yet to know of that just yet.

“Alright… curtains.. ‘gotcha…” Felix mumbles after taking a break from the crib-squabble between Han, his brows furrowed in concentration where Jeongin aids in lifting the canopy portion planning to hang above the crib, Chris organizing the small things.

A baby mobile with stars and little planets, a crescent moon rug.

And a tiny feature you take note of while awakening more and more, the little stars painted on the ceiling, like this miniature galaxy.

It’s so…Chris.

It’s perfect.

The thought makes your lips tug upward, a certain fondness blossoming there.

His world, he’d called the baby.

Fitting, isn’t it?

One week to the due date with the autumn equinox around the corner, your days slip together in a melody of fluffy jackets and fuzzy socks, warm cider Chris ushers instead of coffee—“for the baby”, he says, but begrudgingly fixes you a menial cup after the cocked brow you fix him with.

A baby-bag is packed up for the awaited day of your delivery, and this journey of yours drawing to a close leads to an even more frazzled husband of yours.

Constantly peeking in on you, his lips parted without a question needing to be asked until the bathroom door is slammed in his face after peering in worriedly for a fourth time, earning a squeaky: “sorry!” in reply.

You love him, yes, but not enough to allow a spectator during your bowel movements.

The gesture is appreciated, trust.

Nevertheless, with a now-evident waddle you despise that Chris utterly fawns over, you head to the downtown bakery, motivated by your relentless craving for a cinnamon roll and the feeble determination in battling the dropping temperatures, Seoul’s seasonal shifts as intermittent as your mood swings.

“Two?” You mumble, index extended to the steaming cinnamon rolls in thought, currently using the coat-clad Chris behind you as support, his warm hands steadying your hips, gentle thumbs tracing circles along your sides over his jacket you’d donned.

Nodding into your hair, the man weighs his chin atop your head, granting the kind older woman working the register a small smile, her eyes flickering to the prominent bump fondly prior to fetching the highly-anticipated cinnamon rolls and inquiring how many weeks you were.

“Thirty-nine weeks,” Came the reply, giggling like children on the way home, cheeks flushed pink from bitter winds, sniffling in with each bite of the napkin-held pastry.

“Yah! I should’ve said I wasn’t pregnant and acted all offended, shoot!”

The words followed by a feigned tantrum, Chris has to hold in his laughter, snorting futilely.

“You’re cruel, y’know that?” Scoffing his exasperation does your husband continue to crack even crueler jokes than that of yours on the walk home, acting as an anchor to your aching bones and tirelessly pained back until the sink of the couch cushions beneath your frame serve as the perfect solace.

It’d been the blueprint for an ideal night in. Cinnamon roll long-since digested, a to-die-for massage provided by your husband, and the expectation of doing purely nothing for the remainder of your night.

Until the blueprint went awry upon brushing your teeth.

Curse that damn toothbrush.

Kidding.

“Channie.”

Between Chris, Channie, and terms of endearment, your husband could be an ex-convict with so many names.

Yet he responds to every and all, and at this very moment you’re more grateful than ever for that.

This time, his peeking-in is greatly appreciated.

“I either peed myself or my water just broke.”

It was meant to hopefully lighten the atmosphere, but your efforts prove feeble watching the color drain from his face, white as a sheet.

And just like that, the journey came to its close, in a finale neither of you were expecting, but one your husband confronted head on, trying his hardest in keeping both himself and you calm while loading up all the prepared things.

Baby bag, your printed out birth-plan discussed all those weeks ago while sharing a bath, extra clothes, nursing bras, all the required cards, and a billion other things Chris doesn’t even bother to search for in helping you into the car, reminding himself he could ask someone else to drop by or pick it up after.

Right now, you would remain his sole focus.

That, and the little one who’s decided to make her grand entrance a week from his birthday.

An early present, it seems.

Everything’s too fast, too hurried. The beeping of machinery, hurrying nurses in their scrubs, the nauseating scent of antiseptic overwhelming the hospital.

You and the baby, you and the baby, you and the baby.

Those four words run rampant in his mind, like some sadistic form of tunnel vision.

Luckily swift in their efforts, you’d been wheeled off to the nicest room available, your husband blind to the price of anything at the moment where he follows you back, guiding each sharp gasp while you work through hellish contractions, squeezing his hand like a vice he vows to never let go of.

Though initially as smooth as a delivery could go, the process is seemingly endless, and Chris curses the exhaustion wracking his frame after the eighth hour stretches on, menial complications requiring moments longer to the already strain-inducing process.

And of course, to the words he’d never heard you utter before.

“You FUCKER!”

In which earns your jittery-husbands wobbly smile, smoothing strands of hair where they stick to a sweaty forehead, whispering praises on autopilot.

At this rate, he can’t even tell who you’re referring to, but that thought lies in the very back of his mind.

“When I- shit- get out of here I expect to be- FUCK!— worshiped- ‘cause this hurts like a bitch!”

This earns the midwives equally exhausted smiles, working tirelessly with each push.

By the ninth hour, you shakily assure him to go get a drink, take a walk, a matter he curses beneath his breath yet follows through with no less, legs like jelly, hand aching from your crushing-hold where your husband slumps into the chair opposite to the vending machine, caught in a weary daze.

Then a hand finds itself on his shoulder he has to stave back the reflex to flinch from, and an out-of-breath Minho stands there—unfamiliar in the utter seriousness of his expression, the lack of teasing usually exhibited—alternatively familiar faces of his friends jogging after the second eldest.

His first surprise of the night.

Of two, but the second surprise had yet to occur.

“We took the closest taxi,” Jisung manages, out of breath. “You.. You said there was complicat-“

Like a deer in headlights, the shrill wail of a baby rings out, gathering his full attention in split seconds.

And somehow, he knows that’s his.

Yours, together.

Chris’s second surprise.

His heart stops.

In all his life, Christopher Bahng doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty.

With seven curious faces peeping in from the doorway behind him, he takes slow steps in approaching you, ethereal with your breathlessly proud smile and the tiny, swaddled thing to your frame, comfy and cozy in their mother’s scent.

Pink blankets.

And although he already knew it was a girl, the way he chokes up without a word being spoken earns both yours and the nurse’s laughter, tainting his ears a reddened shade of embarrassment.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmurs, wiping tenderly at tear streaks littering those darling cheeks of yours. “So, so proud.”

An angel, he swears, pressing a long, slow kiss to your lips, then a small peck to your forehead. It appears the wailing fit had subsided, and as for now, this precious little one curls up to your chest.

His baby.

A sob wracks his chest, and in the distance a giggle (likely Minho) is faintly audible that Chris doesn’t even bother scolding, each and every feeling imaginable snuffed to nothing when those eyes pinch open.

Chocolate brown, just like her daddy’s. That perfect, so, so perfect honeyed hue.

Precious.

“She’s.. hic.. so beautiful..”

It’s downright pitiful the manner he cries, like a child, trembling hands reaching for her after your whispered assent, assurance, cradling the baby to his chest.

And remarkably enough, she smiles.

This gummy, delighted smile.

Right then and there, the gravity of the moment punctures his chest, and a silent vow is made that with everything in his being, he will protect her. His daughter.

“Your Daddy loves you.”

Barely heard yet understood all the same, an oh so careful kiss is pressed to those unruly curls, unbelievable in their resemblance to her father’s.

A splitting image, with your charming nose and his puffy lips.

You were right. That time at the grocery store.

Oh to adore.

His second world, who he’ll clap for all cheerfully upon her first steps, her first words, all of it. Through the good and the bad times and everything in between.

His second world, with a father who already loves her, unconditionally.

And who knows he will for the rest of his life.

Ensuring you’re cared for those four days before discharge, Chris spends his time easing you through each painful endeavor, helping you through the saddened and elated moments, those private moments where all you wish for is to be held.

He holds you, for as long as you need.

Despite the challenges and hardships to come, the man can’t help but think of just how beautiful you are. With your stretch marks, the baby weight, the things you hate, the things he loves. Reflecting how hard you worked, bringing this precious baby girl into the world.

It’s impossible for you to be anything but breathtaking.

His wife, he mumbles into your hair, a habit of his, whilst swaying you from side to side in slow rhythm, the little one fast asleep in her bassinet.

The first night home with the baby, Minho’s already taken to the kitchen, preparing dinner regardless of your sleepy beckoning for him to head home where you stand by the doorway, awakened by the unusual silence where your little girl’s normal squeals would be ricocheting off the walls.

It seems the Uncles are already smitten.

Fuzzy sock-clad feet thump to your next destination: the nursery.

And there lies your greatest loves, with Chris’s steps weighing side to side just as he’d always do when dancing with you, a bottle in hand held to her lips where she sleepily suckles, a smile of adoration tugging at his lips opposing the circles beneath his eyes.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so enamored before.

And just as that evening in building the nursery, Seungmin’s quietly composed lullaby drifts from the speaker on the changing table, its lyrics like that of the sweetest hymn.

‘My little girl, will you ever know how much I love you?’

‘As much as the stars in the sky, and the grains of sand on the beach.’

‘You are my universe, and I shall love you.’

‘Love, love, love.’

‘For eternity longer.’

FIC TAGLIST. @manuosorioh @captainchrisstan @bowsnbang @sh1ny4lex @alisonyus @certifiedchangbinlover

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strayingawayy · 3 months ago

Text

midnight melodies

...where a droopy eyed jisung lulls his crying baby girl to sleep

it was 3 am, and han jisung was starting to lose his grip on reality. in his arms, their newborn daughter was wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, and he, half-asleep, was desperate for anything to calm her down.

“okay... okay,” he muttered, bouncing her gently. “you’re just... hungry, right? yeah, that’s it.”

she screamed louder in protest.

“alright, alright,” he said, rocking back and forth. “no food. no bottle. what do you want, sweet girl?”

she stared up at him, her tiny fists clenched, as if mocking him.

jisung took a deep breath, glancing around the nursery like it held all the answers. he spotted her han quokka plushie on the shelf and grabbed it. “okay, quokka, let’s try you.”

he held it up to her, but she screamed even louder.

"aish. so you're rejecting daddy and daddy in animal form too huh?," he said with a tired laugh. "huh ...maybe something... softer."

his mind was a blur. but then, it hit him. a song. he could sing her to sleep. he was han jisung, after all. how hard could it be?

taking a deep breath, he started softly, his voice still a little hoarse from lack of sleep.

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” he sang, his tone gentle and shaky and accent prominent but soft.

the baby hiccupped mid-cry and paused for a brief moment, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“you make me happy when skies are grey,” he continued, growing more confident.

her cries had slowed down, and her tiny hand reached up as if to feel the vibrations of his voice.

“you’ll never know dear, how much i love you...” jisung crooned, his voice growing softer as his exhaustion began to catch up to him.

the baby’s eyes fluttered, her little face calming.

jisung grinned, his sleepiness fading as he realized his voice was finally working. "see? told you i was a pro," he whispered to her, though he could barely keep his eyes open.

just then, you walked in, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. "you’re still at it?" you asked, glancing at your daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in jisung’s arms.

jisung, eyes half-closed, smiled triumphantly. “i’m a lullaby legend, love .”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. you sure it wasn’t just that song?”

jisung blinked, the reality of the situation sinking in. “i mean... yeah. probably.”

you chuckled softly and, feeling the need for a quick snack, went to the kitchen. but when you returned a few minutes later, the sight you saw made you pause in the doorway.

there was jisung, curled up in the crib with their baby girl, both fast asleep. he’d somehow managed to fit himself in the small space, one arm around her, his head resting gently on the edge of the crib. his breathing was slow and peaceful, a contented smile on his face. the baby, snug in his arms, had the faintest of smiles on her face as well.

you stepped closer, careful not to wake them, and stood there for a moment, completely taken by the warmth of the scene. the man you loved, the one who had been so anxious earlier, was now completely at ease, his little girl in his arms as if they’d been doing this forever.

you couldn’t help but smile. "well, i guess you are her sunshine too, sweetheart," you whispered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

you carefully adjusted the blanket over them and kissed both jisung and your daughter’s foreheads, your heart full of love. then, you whispered, "sleep tight, you two."

and as you left the room, the soft glow of the night and the gentle hum of peace filled the air, your little family finally at rest.

1K notes · View notes

hyuuukais · 5 months ago

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⚝⭒๋࣭ ⭑ SKZ TEXTS ⭑ chan edition

─── chan x gn reader

─── pain comfort for the changing temperatures </3

─── warnings: reader called pet names (baby, babe), reader being in pain

─── masterlist

notes - just a short thing <33 idk about yall but my joints have been achinggg

taglist - @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @quokkabite

#⚝⭒๋࣭ ⭑ SKZ TEXTS ⭑#skz #stray kids #skz texts #skz fake texts #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan x reader #bang chan comfort #bang chan #skz comfort

820 notes · View notes

lieslab · 3 months ago

Text

I'm stuck with a phobia

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Summary: You're struggling with your anxiety when your boyfriend comforts you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 5.3K

Anxiety resources

Trigger warning: General anxiety, testing anxiety, anxiety surrounding hospitals and doctors/nurses, brief mention of insecurities, social anxiety, and over-stimulation.

A/N: To whoever requested this, you requested 3racha members specifically, but I didn't want to leave the other members out, so they're all here. Each scenario is different and most are based on different scenarios that can cause anxiety/anxiety attacks. Some of these are a little more serious than others, but I think you get the gist.

_ _ _

Chan:

You couldn’t remember the last time that you weren’t in a constant state of anxiety. Anxiety always draped over your shoulders like a shawl you couldn't rip off. A suffocating scarf that grew tighter and tighter around your throat.

Your heart bucked against your chest, a weak attempt at trying to dislodge from the anxiety in your body. It never worked. It tried and tried and tried, but your sternum was far too strong.

Despite being there, you learned to live with it. You learned to try to ignore the heavy thumps and distract yourself with simplicities; anything to get away from the feeling of your soul being caged. Usually, you could distract yourself, but tonight was different.

It uprooted from nowhere. A current of anxiety pulled you into the depths of your head and suddenly, still half-asleep in the middle of the night, the what-ifs were coming back. What if you weren’t good enough? What if you weren’t a great person? What if Chan’s love for you was all a lie?

Beside you, Chan’s eyelashes cast shadows on his sleeping face. Soft lips pressed together and, for once in his life, that furrow of concentration didn’t hang in his brow. That grit of determination was gone. For tonight, he wasn't just a leader. He wasn’t a member; he wasn’t anything other than Chan, your boyfriend.

You tried to be quiet as you shifted the blankets and attempted to leave the bed. The squeak of the bed frame and the dip of the bed stirred his sleep. Your name left his lips and a hand stretched out to touch you, but you were already standing up.

“Baby?” His half-lidded eyes open. Darkness swarmed his vision and you froze. He blinked and blinked and blinked, trying to cast shapes to the shadows. “Baby?”

“I’m right here,” you finally whispered. “Go back to sleep. It’s too early to get up.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of water.” Your voice came out groggy and unconvincing.

He reached up, rubbed his eyes, and his mouth stretched into a yawn. “What are you really doing?”

“I’m anxious and I can’t sleep. It’s never ending and I’ve been trying to sleep, but over the past few hours, I kept waking up. I’m not sure what it is, but it won’t go away. Go back to sleep, I’m going to-”

His arms stretched out in your direction. A silent and simple command, come here. You hesitated and didn’t budge from your spot. “You should go back to sleep. Seriously, Chan, you have to be up early tomorrow.”

“You either get in my arms or I follow you to the couch.”

He was so stubborn. You didn’t know if it made you hate him or love him. So stubborn, so determined, such a pain in your ass. A constant nag and a forever reminder that you weren’t alone.

You sighed, stepped back, and crawled back into the bed. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and pulled you closer. The scent of his body wash was faint, but the woodsy masculine scent still lingered.

“Close your eyes.”

You let your eyes fall and sighed again. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head before softly beginning to sing. The worry in your heart melted away instantly. You began to relax and let his sleepy voice lull you back to sleep.

Dating a singer had more perks than you’d like to admit.

_ _ _

Minho:

“What is wrong with you?” Minho asked.

The two of you were sitting in his living room and watching a movie. Halfway through, you shifted in your chair and became fidgety. You shrugged and waved him off, not wanting to distract him.

His eyes narrowed at you, but he didn’t prod. Knowing you, you probably just needed to adjust your spot or something. You were never great at sitting still for long periods of time. After a few more minutes, you shifted again. Your nails curled into your palms and the sharp edges bit into your skin.

You shifted to comfort yourself a few seconds later. When your knee started bouncing, Minho grabbed the television remote and paused the screen. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t do that. Your thing-” He gestured towards you. “You’re anxious or something. Your knee is bouncing and you can’t sit still. Why are you anxious?”

“Because I’ve never seen this movie and what if my favorite character dies?” You slumped back in the seat with a frown. “Don’t you have a heart? How are you not anxious about this?”

“So anxious, to where you can’t stop moving?”

Your hand went up in defeat. “I can’t help it! I’m always like this when I don’t know the ending of a movie. I’m trying not to look up how it ends, but I want to. I can't stand the suspense!”

“Hold on.”

You watched as Minho slid across the hardwood floor and disappeared into the kitchen. Upon his return, he presented you with Dori's familiar black and brown coating. His feet dangled helplessly as Minho approached.

“Have a cat.”

“What is-”

“Hold on.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but you grabbed Dori anyway. You shifted, trying to keep him comfortable. Small paws pressed into your lower stomach. He tried to pull away from you to lie on your thighs.

Your head poked up at the sound of incoming footsteps. When you looked up, an unhappy Soonie glared at you. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “What is this?”

“Have a cat.”

“Minho, this is-”

“Wait.”

You tried not to laugh as he disappeared again. Dori shifted and Soonie’s head went back with a loud meow of distress. You reached up and gently patted his head, trying to calm him down.

Footsteps patted your way for a final time and when you looked up, the sleepy eyes of Doongie were staring back, full of obvious annoyance. Minho pressed him further, nearly pushing into your nose. “Here, have a cat.”

You let him place Doongie on your chest. He reached out and used a finger to tap the top of each of their heads. “One cat, two cats, three cats, and-”

You glanced up and, to your surprise, he tapped the tip of your nose. “Four cats.”

“I’m not a cat!”

“Four cats.”

You grumbled and complained, your anxiety long forgotten about. Doongie shifted, nearly falling off your chest. You quickly grabbed him and leaned back so he wouldn’t roll. “There are too many cats in my lap.”

“Nuh-uh.”

You opened your mouth to bicker, but your words halted. Minho shifted Dori and Soonie, so he could squirm into your lap with them. Your eyes widened as he sat across your lap. “What are you-”

“Five cats.”

“Lee Minho!”

“Sorry, I only speak cat.” He picked up Dori’s paw and waved it in your direction. Garbled meows in various pitches fell from his lips. All you could do was stare at him blankly as he took Dori’s paw and gently booped your nose with it.

Clearly, growing up as an only child with three cats has drastic effects on the human psyche.

_ _ _

Changbin:

You decided when you were a kid that quizzes were your worst enemy. Ever since you were in elementary school and colorful motivational posters plastered the walls, you knew you’d always hate tests. Tests. Quizzes. Finals. All of it.

As you grew up and enrolled in college, things didn’t change. Your kitchen table was full of opened textbooks and sticky note reminders. Highlighters swept over topics in notebooks. A headache had been pulsing behind your left eye since you started.

You were drowning in academics. Even worse, you were drowning alone. Changbin was out at a photoshoot and you were on your own until sometime late tonight. It was perfect in your head. You were two weeks away from finals and now you had plenty of time to study.

You were trying your best. You did what you could, but the more you pressured yourself into studying more, the more the content wasn’t sticking. There was too much stuff for each subject and not enough space in your head. Everything you just spent two hours drilling into your frontal cortex; it was gone.

You scanned the pages of the textbooks, reading the words, but never truly soaking them in. Words and words and words and words. Some are more complex than others, but it was all the same. You were so focused and anxious about forgetting and failing; it was the only thing taking up space in your head.

You shoved everything away from you in a fit of rage. A textbook snapped shut and hit the floor with a loud thud. Your neatly stacked vocabulary cards that were in alphabetical order, they slipped over the edge too. The twenty minutes you spent organizing them were all for nothing. They scattered in every direction and brought tears to your eyes.

Your face found your hands and that’s where they stayed. Elementary tests were far different from college tests. Twenty percent of these finals went to your final grades. Your final grades were important, especially in the classes you really struggled with. The difference between passing and failing was huge.

“Honey, I’m home!” Changbin called out. “I’m home and I brought food! Have you eaten anything?” Footsteps echoed from the living room and moved closer.

You didn’t bother looking up. On the verge of bursting into sobs, you stayed buried in your hands. Changbin’s eyes went to everything covering the table. “Woah! What’s all this?”

He placed the plastic bag on the side of the counter and approached you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” A comforting hand found your shoulder. “Why are your note cards and textbook on the floor? Did something happen?”

You pulled your face away from your hands with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed and anxious. As you can see, I’m trying to study, but nothing is sticking.” You sniffled and wiped away a tear. “Why are you home from the shoot early? Did something happen?”

“No, we finished early. Apparently, we all behaved well and behaving means getting work done earlier. That’s not the point. Do you have tests coming up?” His fingers started at your crown and gently tugged back your hair.

“Finals. They’re two weeks away and I could use the head start, but-” You gestured at the mess, “it’s not going so well.”

“I can see that. How about-” He gently grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned your head back to face him. “We clean this up and we eat. After dinner, we’ll pick one subject and start there. I’ve heard that if you can successfully teach what you’re learning to someone, it means you’ve mastered understanding it.”

Your lips tugged into a pouting frown. More tears filled your eyes and you reached up to wipe them away. Changbin followed your reaction with his own frown. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re sweet and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense, everyone deserves their own Changbinnie.” He reached down and placed a soft kiss against your pouty lips. “Go clean up and I’m going to stack these on the counter.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now hurry!” He pulled away and shooed you. “The food is going to get cold and you know how I feel about cold food. Bleh.”

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“Sweetheart, you can’t stay in the car the entire day.” Hyunjin hung against the wide open passenger door with an amused smile. “You know I’m stronger than you, right? I could just simply lean down and tug you straight out of there.”

You threw him a weak side eye. This morning, you woke up feeling awful. Since it was his day off, Hyunjin had been taking care of you the entire evening. Every few hours, he had been taking your temperature. When it spiked three degrees in ‌a few hours, he insisted on taking you to the hospital.

The only issue? You hated hospitals and doctors. Not once in your life had you ever trusted a nurse. In the middle of your fever, your anxiety sky-rocketed. You begged him not to take you, but here the two of you were now. He parked right beside the emergency room door, but you refused to get out of his car.

“What if I go in there and they only give me twenty-four hours to live?” You hoarsely uttered.

“Then we better get in there to make sure you have twenty-four hours and not twenty-three.”

“What if they tell me I have cancer?”

“Sweetheart-”

“Or what if it’s worse than that? What if I have a broken bone that I’m not aware of? My foot has been hurting since I rolled it a few days ago and maybe it healed wrong. What if they have to break it again and it goes wrong? What if it gets infected and I lose my entire leg?”

He called your name, but you didn’t respond. You were too busy voicing your concerns out loud. “What if,” you continued, “they find out I’m really sick and they have to give me a shot in the butt?”

He blinked, completely surprised. “What if they what?”

“You heard me, Hyunjin! What if they have to give me a shot in the ass? Why can’t we just go back to that sweet pink medicine that was stored in the fridge? Why do doctors cause misery?” You threw your head back against the seat and continued whining.

You knew you were being dramatic, but between your high fever and your anxiety, you were spiraling. Just thinking about going in and being poked and prodded in your state. It was unfathomable.

“Or, I know this sounds crazy, but what if you just go in, they diagnose you, give you some medicine, and we go back home?”

“Why would they do that? They’re evil doctors,” you whined as your head slumped to your chest. You were exhausted and trying to fight with Hyunjin, it was getting harder and harder to stay on topic. Your body ached and wanted to nod off.

“They’re not evil and I’ll be right there with you the entire time.” He reached down and scooped you into his arms. “Do you think I’d let them hurt you? No way.”

You groaned as your head shifted against the warmth of his chest. “They’re gonna kill me, probably. Kill me and rip my limbs apart. They’re going to feed me my feet and they’re going to-”

He snorted and squeezed you tighter. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Doctors wouldn’t do such an outrageous thing. They want to help you, not feed you your own feet.”

“I forgot you’d eat my feet.”

“Huh?”

“You ate Minho’s foot in that one photo.”

“Honey, I think you’re delirious from your fever.”

Your eyes drooped and the emergency doors swung open. The scent of disinfectant hit you and your eyes slipped shut. You mumbled his name, but he didn’t stop walking to the front desk. He started explaining the situation to a nurse.

That didn’t stop you from trying to explain how you needed your feet as you succumbed to sleep.

_ _ _

Han:

“I’m anxious,” you uttered as you laid on the living room floor. Your limbs sprawled out and your gaze caught the spinning ceiling fan. Wooden panels whirled around so fast that they were a giant blur.

“Me too.” Han agreed as he laid a few feet away from you. “I don’t know what I’m anxious about. What are you anxious about?”

“The future, I think. How does it happen? What if it goes wrong? What if I make the wrong mistakes? What if I fuck it up?”

Han’s eyes widened and his adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp. “Okay, cool. Now you have me anxious about the future, too.”

“What if we break up?”

“What if we’re together for the rest of our lives?” He countered.

“Woah, are we prepared for that? For this forever? I want to say that I am, but forever is an awfully long time.”

“Isn’t it a good thing?”

“Listen, I’ve been a victim of your farts.”

He reached over and playfully slapped his hand on your shoulder, causing you to laugh. “Shut up!” He whined. “Yours are ten times worse than mine.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Prove it!” You challenged.

“Stage one, denial.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and he followed. Your hands curled up over your stomach as you shook. For a few brief moments, you pushed the anxiety from the front of your head. You sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

“But really,” you continued, “how do you stop your anxiety?”

“I ignore it by watching anime. How do you stop yours when it’s bad?” He shifted so he could stare at you. You didn’t move from laying on your back. His arm moved up to prop his head.

“I do whatever I can to escape reality. Most of the time, it’s social media or shoving my nose in a book.”

“Sometimes I bother one of the guys. Life feels better when I’m with them. Even if it’s just one, I feel less stressed. We’re always laughing together so…”

“I understand, it’s a really special bond that you have with the other group members. I’ll admit that it makes me jealous. It just sounds nice and what you have, it’s so authentic and real, you know? You don’t just have one good person, you have seven. I’m sure you have more than that, but-”

“It really is special, isn’t it?” He smiled to himself and shifted back onto his back.

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes when I’m really stressed, I go visit Minho. Every now and then, we’ll go to his parents’ house to see his cats. That’s my favorite way to ease anxiety.”

“If only you had a pet.”

He nodded in agreement and the two of you sat in silence again. Tangled in your own thoughts, your eyes went back to the spinning ceiling fan. You watched it spin around and around and around and-

“Holy shit!” You jerked upright with wide eyes. “Han Jisung, you idiot!”

“Huh?”

“You have a dog!”

“I have a dog?”

“Bbama!”

“Obama?” He echoed, feeling more confused. “The former president of the-” His eyebrows furrowed until he gasped and slammed a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, I have a dog!” He shoved himself to his feet and grabbed your arm. “Come on, we gotta go visit Bbama!”

“Obama,” you mocked him as you followed.

He turned around and stuck his tongue out at you. Yours poked out and caused him to huff. “Shut up,” he finally grumbled. “So I forgot I had a dog! Sue me!”

“Bbama might.”

_ _ _

Felix:

“It’s not funny!” You childishly stomped your foot and placed your hands on your hips.

Across the way, there were tears in Felix’s eyes. The two of you had been posing in front of Hyunjin’s camera and trying to take cute photos together. The last one came out with your eyes in two different directions and half-closed.

Hyunjin was trying not to laugh, for your sake, but Felix was losing it. For the past two minutes, he’d been on the ground with a hand on his stomach. Just when he thought he composed himself, laughter broke back out.

“Baby, p-please,” he weakly uttered. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-” His words cut off with more laughter.

You didn’t want to do this because of this reason. The two of you were supposed to go official with your relationship and you wanted a cute photo to announce it on Instagram. Hyunjin offered to take it, but none of them were coming out right.

You were anxious, worried that the photos would all come out ugly, and here you were actually living that scenario. Your cheeks were red with humiliation, but it didn’t seem to bother Felix. He was still cracking into fits of giggles.

“It’s not funny,” you mumbled again, feeling more and more miserable. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

Felix shook his head and blonde tendrils went flying. “No, i-it wasn’t a bad idea. This was the best idea. I just wasn’t expecting that angle. It was one poor photo and-”

“It feels like every photo has been a poor photo. I’m not doing it right. I don’t know how to pose like you do. I’m not used to-”

“Hey,” he shoved himself off the ground, “it’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s not. You keep laughing at me. I feel like we’re wasting Hyunjin’s time. So much of his time that he just disappeared to go find a snack while we recouped.”

“Hyunjin is a growing man. You couldn’t help that if you wanted to. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just-” He reached forward and gently cupped your cheeks. “I love you so much, you don’t understand it.”

“I don’t like being laughed at, even if it’s just a silly photo. I’m always afraid that-”

His head shook. “I’m not laughing at you. I mean, I am, but I’m laughing at the pose you ended up in. Think about it. Wouldn’t you laugh if Hyunjin snapped a photo of me in that same pose?”

“I guess.” He narrowed his eyebrows at you. “Okay, I guess if the roles were reversed, I’d probably laugh a lot. I look like an idiot.”

“Exactly.” He pressed on your cheeks and caused your lips to press together. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.”

Your cheeks went red and your lips grew into a smile. He grinned and leaned forward and then-

Flash!

Felix jerked away with a groan and you blinked rapidly, trying to gain your vision back. His hands went up to rub his eyes. “Hyunjin?”

“I got it! This is the perfect photo! Oh, you guys are just so cute!” He squealed as he stared at the screen on his camera. “That speech? Disgustingly cute. This photo? Fan wars are going to be caused.”

“Hyunjin,” Felix warned.

“What? I’m just saying.” He shrugged and spun the lens towards the two of you. “What do you think?”

As you stared at the photo of Felix’s twinkling eyes, a smile on his face, and your own blushing smile; you knew he was right, it was perfect. _ _ _

Seungmin:

“And this.” Seungmin grabbed an item from the shelf and placed it in the grocery cart. “And this. One of these,” he picked up two more items and dropped them into the cart. “Three of these and-”

Your arms curled around yourself tighter. To Seungmin, grocery shopping was a necessity. To you? It was, but specifically, when the store wasn’t thriving with customers. Showing up around five on a Friday evening was the worst thing you agreed to do.

Seungmin had the list and he was carefully marking items off one-by-one. You were behind him and stressed out. The moment you walked into the store beside him, you swore you could feel the pulsing and stressful energy of the crowd.

People were rushing in and out of the aisles. Some were getting pushy while waiting for their turn to look at a specific product. Seungmin didn’t seem to mind the chaos. Maybe he did and he just tuned it out somehow, but you? You didn’t work like that.

You were feeling stressed and wanting to cry. More and more people were slowly entering the front of the aisle that you just came down. You swore you could feel the annoyance of some. It didn’t help that Seungmin kept stopping every few feet to check off an item and calculate the prices of everything.

“Seungmin?” You spoke up nervously as you glanced over your shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Can we please leave this aisle?”

“Hold on, let me add these two numbers together.”

You sighed, but continued waiting. Your brain screamed and begged you to get out of the aisle, but you stayed close to Seungmin. You shut your eyes to focus on your irregular breaths and when you opened them a few moments later, Seungmin was gone.

Your eyes widened and you stepped forward, but before you got far, a cart hurried past you. You jumped, side-stepping, and trying to get out of the way as a random woman sped by. Your hands curled into fists and you pressed yourself against the colorful cereal boxes, trying to make yourself smaller and take up less space.

Out of the aisle, you glanced around, but Seungmin was missing. Cursing beneath your breath, you hurried to the next aisle and glanced down at it, only to find it void of the light blue hoodie he was wearing.

You searched and the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. The overhead lights were too white and too bright. The chattering of people grew louder and louder. Your own heartbeat hammered against your ears.

A lump built in your throat, but you forced yourself to swallow it. You hated crowds; you hated the congestion of people, and more importantly, you hated that feeling of suffocation that sat upon the top of your chest. It compressed your lungs and made breathing barely operable.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on the task at hand. Walking around felt nearly impossible. Too many people had carts and weren’t paying attention. Someone was texting and another one was making a phone call. Someone else stopped in the middle of an aisle and pressed buttons on their phone.

“Excuse me,” you uttered as you walked around them.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the huff that left their mouth. “Some people have no manners,” they grumbled. Unaware that they did anything wrong, they hurried away, only to stop in front of the opening of another aisle to pull out their phone again.

You wandered around again, trying to find Seungmin, but to no avail. Your hand reached into your back pocket to grab your phone. Just as you considered talking to him, you pulled your hand away from your phone. He shut his phone off at the beginning of the trip, not wanting to be interrupted.

Frustrated and too upset to function, you checked a few more aisles, but you couldn’t find him. You began to head towards the door, assuming you’d just wait in the car until he got back. You walked and walked and walked until a car bumped into the back of your ass.

You wheeled around and there stood Seungmin. His grin fell when he took in your teary eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“There’s too many people. I couldn’t find you and I’m so overstimulated. I thought you were a stranger and I just-”

“Breathe,” he reminded you as he stepped out from behind the cart. “I’m sorry. I thought you were behind me when I left the cereal aisle. I turned around and you were gone. I was grabbing items in another aisle and I figured you’d find me. I didn’t think-”

“It’s not your fault. I can’t help my social anxiety, it’s just so busy. Some woman was so rude to me. I just want to go wait outside. I feel overwhelmed and it’s becoming a struggle to breathe.”

“Do you want me to go with-”

Your head shook. “Finish shopping and I’ll wait for you in the car. I’m sorry, I wanted to help you, but-”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I should have considered how busy the store is at this time of the night. You go to the car and I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“I love you.”

Not caring that he was in the middle of the store, he leaned up, grabbed your cheeks, and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. A sweet unexpected gesture that tasted like spearmint and your salted tears.

“I love you too. Now get out of my store,” he grinned. “No adult supervision. I’m going to get dino nuggets.”

_ _ _

Jeongin:

Jeongin had seen a lot of stupidity over the years. He saw it in his fellow idol members. He saw it blatantly stamped all over the idol industry. It was rare that the stupidity came from you, but today was different.

He shielded the top of his head with his arm to block the rain from his vision. The keys jingled in his hand and his shoe squeaked on the entry to your shared home. He grumbled and ripped off his damp coat.

The rain hadn’t stopped pouring for what seemed like hours. A constant downpour that was steadily sprinkled with thunder and lightning. Earlier, the power to his company’s building went down after lightning struck a nearby power cord. He finished the rest of his schedule via a backup generator.

He kicked off his shoes and called your name. He expected you to be taking a nap. On certain evenings, you did. Some days, you stayed up late, came home, and indulged in a few hour nap. He grew used to the routine, but you weren’t on the couch.

He headed to your shared room and, to his surprise, you weren’t there either. You had to be home, he knew that. Your phone was there on the nightstand and face down. Your shoes, he put his own right next to them.

He called your name, but you didn't respond. Just as he was about to call your name again, there was a flash. Through the glass sliding door, the balcony lit up and there you were. Squatting on the ground, huddled around yourself, and soaking wet, you sat in a small ball.

His eyes widened and he rushed forward. He tugged on the balcony door, only to find it locked. He cursed, flipped the lock, and swung the door open. “What are you doing out here? Get inside now!” He called out over the loud sound of heavy rain.

Your eyes half-opened at the sound of your name. You glanced over to find a worried Jeongin. He grabbed your forearm and tugged your dripping and shivering body back inside. His eyes scanned you up and down.

“What happened to you? What did you do? Why were you locked on the balcony?”

“I was anxious,” you mumbled. “I went out to get fresh air and I must have slammed the door shut too hard and the lock flipped. When I went out, it wasn’t raining.”

“But it’s been raining for hours!”

“Has it? I just woke up freezing cold a few minutes ago, I think. It’s not too bad after you get used to being soaked.”

He sighed and grabbed the end of your shirt. “Arms up.”

You didn’t fight him tugging off your shirt. “You’re such an idiot,” he mumbled. “You’re going to catch a cold by wearing these soaking wet clothes. You’re going to wake up with a fever and sniffles.”

“On the bright side of things, I don’t feel anxious anymore.”

“Because you’re too cold to feel it.” He sighed and grabbed the warmest blanket he could find. “From now on, if you go out onto the balcony when I’m gone, crack the door.”

“Okay.”

“What were you anxious about, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I’m too cold to remember, but this blanket is so warm. Have I ever told you I love you?”

“Sometimes I think I should reconsider my offer.”

“That’s not nice.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way at certain times.”

“Only when you wear ugly shoes.”

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