#skz ensemble

[dwaekkistar]

Chapter 5: The Turn Around

        The ride back home was fairly quiet, as Sujin was still somewhat traumatized and processing what had happened. Seungmin was deep in his mind, trying to figure out how he would turn things around with the omega, as he felt a deep regret for his behavior. Changbin and Chan were planning something they thought would help the omega when they got to the house, everyone in the car could still sense a bit of anxiety lingering on his scent. The doctor's appointment had everyone feeling like they regressed with sujin and the pack hadn't even made it past stage 1 with the latter. They were a bit stuck on what steps to take next, but they'd find a way to get the omega to open up to them more. They eventually got home, parking the car in the warm garage.

        Sujin walked straight to his room, not having the mental energy to socialize. The omega wanted to go into his nest and release what was left of the anxiety in his system. He quickly made it to his room closing and locking the door behind him swiftly. He hurriedly went to his bedroom bathroom and got undressed, throwing every article of clothing into the hamper, and began running the shower. He hopped into the shower and practically scrubbed his skin until it turned red. When Sujin felt he had sufficiently cleaned himself he rinsed himself off and turned the shower back off. He got out and still felt a bit frazzled with anxiety, which was typical in his situation. They never quite really helped soothe his anxiety when it came to the thoughts of his uncle. Nesting with his little material back in Auckland was the only thing that ever really helped him, so he was sure it was the same now. He walked to the linen closet in his bathroom pulled out a towel and dried himself as much as possible before throwing it in the same hamper with his dirty clothes and heading to his room. He walks over to the dresser, opens the compartment where his boxers are neatly stored, and pulls out a pair of boxers sliding them on. He stood for a bit contemplating if he wanted fo get fully dressed just to lay in the nest, but he ultimately decided against it. He hoped that nesting this way would not only calm his anxiety but also help him get more in tune with his inner wolf. He hadn't heard from it since he was just a mere little pup before the neglect from his family started ramping up and taking a toll on him.

He hopped into the nest and nuzzled himself against every possible corner of it, taking in the scents that were still heavily laced into every item in the nest. He snuggled close to the blanket that smelled of the seaside, inhaling deeply as he let the scent wash over him. As he did so his body relaxed to the point it felt like he almost went limp. He took in another deep breath of the scent when his eyes suddenly glowed gold, a small little voice screaming mate at him. He bolted into an upward sitting position, still holding the blanket that was pungent with the lead alpha seaside scent in a confused daze. 'Where did that voice come from?' he thought to himself, it was weird as he heard this small voice, a voice that he'd always told himself was how he would have sounded if he was like the other cute and petite omegas he'd seen growing up. As if on cue the voice spoke again, 'Inner wolf... have we been disconnected for that long ?' the voice said sassily. 'I guess so..?' sujin mentally said in response to his inner wolf as he sat up. 'Sniff nest... we need it' Not wanting to argue with or disappoint his inner wolf Sujin immediately went back to inhaling the scents in his nest, immediately becoming more relaxed than before as his eyes glowed gold once more.

A round of knocks abruptly went off as he took in the scents, causing him to jump. His eyes returned to their normal color, and he immediately hid his mostly unclothed body under the blanket before yelling to come in. The door slowly opened, when Sujin got a glimpse of platinum locks of hair. He let out a soft sigh upon realizing it was just Felix.

"Hey, I was just coming to check up on you..." He softly spoke as he slipped deeper into the room closing the door behind him. " I heard you had a rough day at the doctor's office." He then carefully sat at the foot of the nest area, not wanting to get in out of respect seeing as omegas took their nest seriously.

"Yeah, I had quite a day," Sujin replied softly, " thought I would just decompress in the nest for a bit..."

"Do you mind if I come in the nest ?" Felix said comfortingly albeit laced with caution "I wanted to help comfort you but I don't wanna break any boundaries."

"You can come in the nest," Sujin said as a soft smile grew on his face, "you're always welcome in my nest."

Felix then carefully got into the nest and sat pretty close to Sujin, shooting the omega a smile. It was at this moment the younger remembered he wasn't fully clothed, and wondered if the alpha next to him took notice of his lack of clothes. As if reading his mind Felix reached his hand out and gently rested it on sujin's bare side. The younger immediately shuddered at the touch but in a good way. For some reason, the alpha's touch made him very giddy and he couldn't understand why, until his inner wolf was practically yelling mate at him again. Why would his inner wolf be saying mate to someone with a completely different scent than earlier and what did that mean?

"Is there anything you wanna talk about or do while we wait for them to finish up dinner?" Felix softly asked, his deep voice snapping Sujin back to reality. He thought thoroughly before answering the freckled alpha.

"Why does Seungmin not like me ?" Sujin said with a tinge of embarrassment lacing his voice. It wasn't like him to voice things that bothered him let alone his emotions but for some odd reason, he felt like it was safe enough to explain these things to Felix. It was like his heart had a strong pull towards the other that he could not explain. But upon hearing Sujin's words Felix's face dropped somewhat into a frown.

"Uhm...let's just say we have a past with omegas..." He said quietly with a hint of hesitation lacing his voice, "I think it would be better if he explained it to you."

"Oh? Okay.." the omega said with confusion. What did Felix mean by they had a past with omegas... was there another omega before him? And if there was what happened that they weren't around anymore? "Well, what did you guys do while we were away today?"

"Oh, we just kinda relaxed I watched TV while checking in on you guys for the most part." The alpha replied with a faint smile. "We like to make sure everyone's doing okay even if they're not away for long."

"Oh... that's kinda sweet..." Sujin replied shyly, "Never experienced something like that"

"What do you mean?" Felix said as his brows furrowed, "Weren't you in a family pack before this?"

"Oh, uhm my family pack didn't like me if we're being honest.." the younger said trailing off as his face suddenly soured at the turn of the conversation. He didn't like talking about his family pack much considering they never treated him as part of it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Felix said as he inched closer to sujin, prepared to comfort the omega at any second. How the word family made the omega's face scrunch in hurt broke the alpha's heart.

"Not really," Sujin replied as he looked off deep in thought, "it's nothing of importance I should bring up anyways."

Felix decided upon hearing the younger's words that he wouldn't push it but something deep in him knew that part of whatever caused Sujin to come back home in the state he did had to do with his family. He also knew he along with the rest of the pack would do anything in their heart to undo whatever trauma the omega's family pack inflicted on him.

Just as Felix finished that thought, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He carefully pulled his phone out while Sujin watched him to see that Minho sent a text about dinner being ready.

"We should probably head downstairs," Felix said as he carefully left the nest,  "Minho says that dinner is ready and I'm kinda starving."

"Oh okay," Sujin says softly, "I'll meet you downstairs. I have to put on some clothes." Felix then shot the omega a smile before leaving the room. Sujin got up from under the blanket he was hiding his lower body with, making it over to his wardrobe and slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a black tee. He also wore socks for extra warmth and comfort as he hated how he always shivered without them. The omega quietly went downstairs to the kitchen and was not surprised to see the entire pack already sat and being served.

"Sujin-ah it took you long enough to get here.." Minho blurted out happily, " I was worried the food was going to get cold by the time you got here."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to take long.." the younger said quietly as he sat in the only available seat left between Changbin and Chan.

"It's fine," Minho said as he placed a plate of food in front of the omega, " as long as you're eating everything is good."

Sujin began to eat as he watched the alpha serve himself and join them at the table. He smiled slightly as he placed the first forkful in his mouth, and the food tasted delicious. The alphas in charge of cooking today decided to make kimchi fried rice and bulgogi, with a side of panjeon. The omega figured they had to have a cookbook somewhere because there was no way a pack full of alphas knew these dishes off the top of their head. But as he finished the thought he realized that was a very traditional and conservative way of thinking and he didn't want to remind himself of his family pack. He annoyingly realized he learned so many things through his former family pack that he would have to unlearn. He continued to silently eat his food as the others conversed with each other at the table.

The pack truly wanted to include him, but they felt it was better to give him a break from socializing after what he had experienced earlier in the day. When everyone finished their food, Sujin was the last to put his plate in the sink. Usually one of the alpha's would just load all the dishes into the dishwasher when everyone's done but it seems like they all went off and did their own thing as they waited for the omega to finish his meal. So he took matters into his hand loading the dishwasher the way he saw the others do so many times. He even made sure to load the cleaning detergent in properly before turning it on. As he stood back up he smelled a deep waft of brown sugar reach his nose. He knew someone entered the kitchen he just didn’t know who as the scent was still unfamiliar to him despite spending almost a few weeks with the pack so far.

What he didn’t expect when he turned around was Seungmin standing just right before the island separating them.

Taglist: @missrandomheart @galaxycatdrawz@hydrawaterdragon @justastraymoa @3rachasninja @justiceforvillains

[skz-fanfic-recs]

can't stop seeing stars by daltokkis

“seungmin,” minho squints, tapping his pen against his clipboard with a frown, “you and your cabin have been here quite a lot lately." his faux serious facade fades as he lets out a giggle. “we have n-” the last few weeks of seungmin’s life flash before his eyes. "chan skinned his knee trying to copy changbin's backflips." "hyunjin ‘accidentally’ threw the volleyball into jisung’s face." “changbin's got stung by a bee." “in my butt!” “…in his butt…” his smile drops and he stares minho dead in the eyes. he drops his voice to a whisper as if jeongin, who is literally standing next to him, wouldn’t be able to hear. “listen. it’s not me. it’s them.” he picks jeongin up by the armpits, shaking him in front of minho for good measure. “look at him.”

seungmin is a camp counselor whose kids keep getting injured. minho is the camp nurse who is convinced that seungmin is just coming up with any excuse to come see him.

[versitywrites]

Blanket Fort

Just some soft skz shenanigans.

-----

“Honey!” 

When Jisung walks into a room like that, there is no point in trying to continue what he’s doing, and so Minho quickly finishes reading the last line of his page before simply pretending he’s still reading just so that Jisung doesn’t figure out how effective his interruption really is. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Jisung flops down on the bed on his back, head somehow landing exactly right atop Minho’s right leg, grinning up at him with all the excitement of a toddler. It doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s got mischief on his mind again. 

“I’m hungry.” 

“Mhm, that is unfortunate for you. Have a snack.” 

“You make really good food.” 

“Thank you. Have a snack.” 

“I always enjoy eating your food.” 

“Endless praise today, I see. Have a snack.” 

Jisung pouts, then shakes his whole body in a childlike tantrum. “Honey! I want you to make me some food!” 

Minho simply looks down at his friend for a few moments, then looks up towards the door. 

“You’re in the wrong dorm.” 

Jisung’s pout only grows at those words and he sighs deeply as he nearly collapses on his friend’s lap. “Hyuuung,” he whines, before rolling over and sitting up in one fluid motion, putting his hands under his chin and blinking cutely up at his friend. “Pretty please?” 

“The appearance of the please makes no difference in my answer.” 

Minho’s grin is almost instant after that quote, and Jisung drops his hands down to the mattress in defeat. It doesn’t take long - it never does, really - and then a new idea seems to perk him up again. “Will you at least come over to the main room? We’re trying to spend some time together today.” 

“You mean as opposed to all the other days where we are together for about seventy percent of the time?” 

Jisung ends up laughing in defeat at this comment, clearly having run out of the will to even try and win an argument with his older friend. 

“Honey, you’re breaking my heart here. Please just come with me?” 

Minho sighs, pretends like this is the worst thing that could have happened to his day, picking up his bookmark with great reluctance and putting aside the book that he hasn’t read a single extra line in anymore since his friend came in. 

“Alright, fine. But if I miss a good scene because you interrupted me I’m cooking you.”  

Jisung’s up in no time, clapping his hands and waiting excitedly for Minho to follow, then he’s out the door in no time, leaving Minho no choice but to do the same. He closes his door behind him, though, and looks at the scene in the living room first and foremost, not intending to walk right into chaos personified. 

It seems that Jisung wasn’t lying, all of his friends spread around the living room except for Jeongin, Seungmin and Hyunjin, the latter of which has no doubt gone off to fetch the other two. Yongbok is already curled up against Changbin’s side, so comfortably wrapped in blankets that it’s clear he was already on the couch like that before the members from the other dorm showed up. 

“So, what’s the occasion?” Minho asks of the room, though he’s looking at Chan in particular right then, raising his eyebrows lightly at the eldest of them all. 

“Spending time together,” Chan says, somehow perfectly communicating that he’s quoting someone else without any other motions. He moves over to give Minho some space on the couch, and instantly shows a pleased little smile when the dancer goes to sit exactly there, leaning back against the arm rest. 

Seungmin comes walking out of his room in an extremely comfortable looking onesie, a pillow tucked under his arm that he very strategically places against Chan’s side to then go and lean against it comfortably, feet on the other arm rest of the couch. He shifts a few times to get comfortable and then just closes his eyes, apparently having decided to just continue his nap on the couch. 

There’s very little chance of that actually happening with an excited Jisung around, but since that one’s attention is currently still focused on squishing Yongbok’s cheeks while asking him what movie they’re going to watch, it might actually succeed for a while. 

That is, of course, until Hyunjin comes walking out of Jeongin’s room with an armful of pillows and blankets. 

“Blanket fort!” He calls, and “Blanket fort!!!!” Jisung immediately echoes, jumping up from the couch. Even Yongbok unwraps himself from his blanket burrito to go help out with that and it’s not long before Changbin and Minho are the only two left in the couches, looking towards the many doors through which their members have disappeared in order to fetch more blankets and pillows. 

“We can use you as the support pillar in the middle,” Minho comments offhandedly, earning a disbelieving look from his friend, who proceeds to put a hand over his heart next. 

“I’m hurt, hyung!” He says, so dryly that it has Minho laughing lightly, face lighting up with amusement. Changbin laughs along with him soon enough, and then gets up from his place on the couch to go sit next to him. “There was no stopping Jisung,” he says as he does so, and Minho only chuckles more. 

“I noticed.” 

“Blanket fort! Blanket fort! Blanket fort!” 

The chant starts in Felix’s room, taken over by the people in the other rooms as well until out come the six other members with arms full of blankets, pillows and anything comfortable they could find. Chan somehow is carrying Jisung on his back at this point, as well as two pillows and what looks like the entirety of Seungmin’s bed linen. 

Once everything is dumped on a big pile in the middle of the room, the other members start pulling the couches aside, though it takes Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Seungmin to move the one with Changbin and Minho still sitting comfortably. 

“It’s time for dwaekki to lose some weight,” Seungmin complains when he straightens, putting a hand on his lower back like this has absolutely felled him. 

“Hey!” Changbin calls, but Jisung and Hyunjin are laughing like there’s never been anything funnier in their lives. Before their friend can get any more upset, Felix is already there, tugging on Changbin’s arm to get him to help with setting up and so before long everyone is at work, even Minho pushing himself up from the couch to go give them a helping hand.

[chillkin]

i just commissioned some awesome fanart from my dear friend thank you so much for the awesome OC fanart!!! thamk yiu so kuch (traditional art btw teheheheheh)

[hanarchy]

watching a compilation of skz on mucore and its truly just. their styling is SO bad its honestly upsetting to me. like even when its good its bad. like what i mean by this is even when it works with the concept (it usually doesnt) it looks bad on at least 4 members. it IS usually coherent among members but at what cost???? FAUX LEATHER??????????? like even when it looks good on most members they got seungmin in a goofy suit jacket and hyunjins wearing shorts

[m1ster-s]

tonight is the night that I'm really looking forward to, because there is a beautiful view in the sky because there are stars that shine so brightly that it can spoil your eyes when you look at it

[dungbeatposse]

arashi in chunky heels, NEXT QUESTION.

MAKE MY TALL QUEEN TALLER.

[fruityuncleskeletor]

If you love SKZ Felix, please check out my series in which he is a boy who is also, sometimes, a cat. It features a lot of cuteness , the kind that Felix has gotten us used to. Also starring the entirety of the SKZ band.

[lovemni]

don't leave me , my love

[ 방찬 ] ✷ ‎. . after a series of terrible arguments, you break up with your boyfriend. life slows down. but then . . ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑖dol𝑏f!chris ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. heavy angst , lots of tears , misunderstandings , hurt , lovers to exes to ??? , second chance love , skz ensemble . 12OOOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. language , injuries , car-accident . ┆ ✉️ ⋮ a req. oneshot .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ hihihihihii finally another channie fic !!!!! the loml. seungchan stans rise !! i loved loved loved writing this. my angst comeback guys (flashback to my early tumblr era where all i posted was angst....) eh. i love angst. so much. woohoo okay bye <3 oh and ty for the req. anon !!! comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the room smelled like rain.

not in the fresh, new-beginnings kind of way, but in the way that clung to damp clothes and old wounds.

it seeped through the cracks of the windowpane, curling around the tension like a silent spectator. outside, the city pulsed—headlights cutting through the mist, distant sirens wailing, the soft patter of rain against the glass an unwanted metronome to the argument unfolding within these four walls.

“you don’t fucking get it,” your boyfriend's voice cut sharp through the quiet, raw and exhausted, an edge to it that he never used on you before. not like this.

his fingers gripped the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip like he was trying to physically hold himself together. “you don’t—god, y/n, you don’t understand what it’s like to carry this.”

you stood by the doorway, arms crossed so tightly against yourself it almost felt like a shield. the air was thick with it—frustration, exhaustion, love buried under layers of hurt.

you felt it like a weight pressing against your ribs.

how it had started.

the room was dark save for the faint glow of his laptop screen. the hum of the air conditioner filled the space, masking the silence that had grown between you two over the last few days.

you had sat across from him, knees pulled to your chest on the worn-out couch in the room. the atmosphere was suffocating—a mix of tension and exhaustion—and you weren’t sure when the comfort of this small, cramped room had turned into a battlefield.

he was hunched over his desk, headphones perched around his neck, fingers frozen above his keyboard. you could see the subtle tremble in his hands, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly despite his usual perfect posture.

chris—was tired. that much was clear. but what stung was how he wouldn’t let you in.

“you’ve been sitting there for hours,” you had said softly, your voice hesitant, almost afraid of breaking the fragile calm that hung between you.

“i’m working,” he replied curtly, not bothering to meet your gaze.

it wasn’t the first time you had this conversation, but tonight it felt different. there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. you could feel the ache in your chest building, a familiar burn of frustration mixed with concern.

“you’ve been working for days,” you shot back, louder this time. “you barely eat, you barely sleep, and—”

“i’m fine,” he interrupted, his tone sharp and clipped, his eyes finally meeting yours. there was something in his gaze—tired, distant, and defensive—that made you hesitate for a moment.

“you’re not fine, chan.”

the words hung in the air like a challenge. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. his laptop screen dimmed, signaling inactivity, and for a second, you thought he might actually listen. but then he turned his chair to face you, and the frustration etched across his face sent a chill down your spine.

“why do you always do this?” he snapped.

your heart sank. “do what?”

“this!” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “this… nagging. you don’t get it, do you? this is my job. this is my life. i can’t just stop because you think i’m overworking myself.”

you blinked, his words cutting deeper than you expected. “i’m not.. nagging, chan. i’m worried about you. there’s a difference.”

“well, it doesn’t feel that way.”

the bitterness in his voice was like a slap to the face. you stared at him, disbelief and hurt warring within you. “do you even hear yourself right now?”

“yeah, i do!” he shot back, his voice rising. “i hear myself every damn day, y/n. and you know what? i’m sick of it. i’m sick of feeling like i have to explain myself to you all the time.”

your hands balled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to steady your breathing. the room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his words echoed in your mind.

“explain yourself?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “i’m not asking for an explanation, chan. i’m asking for you to let me in. to let me help you.”

“help me with what?” he spoke, standing abruptly. the chair screeched against the floor, and the sudden movement startled you. “you can’t help me, y/n. no one can. this is my responsibility. my burden. not yours! and i don't need you worrying to add on to that weight!”

“don’t do that,” you shot back, voice steadier than you felt.

“don’t act like i don’t understand you, like i haven’t been here every single fucking night waiting for you to come home, waiting for you to remember i exist outside of your damn laptop and deadlines.” your breath hitched, but you swallowed it down, forcing your voice to stay level. “i do understand, chris. but you don’t let me in.”

chris let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he turned away, running a hand through his curls in frustration. his fingers were trembling.

you knew he hadn’t eaten properly today. you knew, the small, white snackbox you had packed his favorite rice in, was left untouched. you knew he hadn’t slept much either. but that didn’t change the fact that he was hurting you.

“you want me to let you in? fine.” he turned back to you, eyes dark with exhaustion, jaw tight.

“i have no time. none. i have a fucking comeback to prepare, songs that aren’t finished, choreography that isn’t final, members who rely on me, a company breathing down my neck—” he took a step closer, and even though he wasn’t yelling, his voice was thunder. “i don’t get to sit around and wait for my life to fall into place, y/n. i have to make it happen.”

his words hit like a gut punch. you flinched before you could stop yourself.

something in his expression shifted for half a second—guilt flashing behind the anger—but he didn’t stop. couldn’t stop.

“and what, huh? you want me to pause? to step away? to just—what? go on dates, lay in bed all day with you, pretend that none of this exists?” his voice cracked, his hands clenching into fists. “i can’t, y/n. i can’t afford to be selfish like that.”

you felt something splinter inside of you.

"wow," you whispered, blinking rapidly as you looked at him. "is that what you think this is? me asking you to be... selfish?" your voice was quiet, but it held the weight of everything you’d been holding back. "i have never asked you to choose me over your career, chan. never. but i wanted—no, i needed you to meet me halfway. to at least fucking try. but you didn’t. you never do.”

chan scoffed, rubbing his temple, pacing like he was barely keeping himself together. "you don’t get it, y/n. you never will."

and that—that—was what broke you.

your hands shook. you swallowed the lump in your throat, but your voice still wavered. "you don’t get it, chan. you don’t fucking get what it’s like to love someone who makes you feel like an afterthought. to go to bed alone every single night and wonder if you even cross their mind.” you exhaled shakily.

“i never asked you to give up your dreams for me. i just wanted to be a part of them. but i guess i was asking for too much.”

he let out another bitter laugh, his face twisting. "i make you feel like an afterthought? that’s rich, coming from someone who doesn’t have to live under this pressure." his voice rose, sharp and unrelenting.

"you don’t know what it’s like to have the weight of an entire fucking group and a partner on your shoulders. to feel like if you fuck up, you’re dragging everyone down with you." he was breathing heavily, shoulders shaking. “you think i don’t want to be with you? you think i choose this over you? i fucking hate this. i hate feeling like this. but i don’t have a choice.”

there it was. the breaking point.

your lip trembled, and you hated yourself for it. "you do have a choice, chan. you always did." you shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. "you just never chose me."

silence.

a ringing, deafening silence that made the rain outside sound like gunfire.

the crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, but it only fueled your own anger. “oh, and weight? is that what you think i’m trying to do? burden you?”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“then what did you mean?” you interrupted, standing as well. your voice was louder now, shaking but firm. the tension between you crackled like a live wire, and neither of you seemed willing to back down.

“i don’t know!” he shouted, his hands flying to his hair in frustration. “i don’t know, okay? i’m fucking tired, y/n. i’m tired of all of this.”

the silence that followed was deafening. you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, his words ringing in your ears. he didn’t mean it, you told yourself. he was just frustrated, just exhausted. but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“all of this?” you repeated quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he froze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what he had said. “no, i didn’t mean—”

“save it, chan,” you cut him off, your voice cold and flat. “you’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

chan stared at you, eyes widening, as if only now realizing how deep the wound he had inflicted was. his lips parted slightly, and for the first time that night, his anger faltered. his hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, to fix the damage, to take it all back. but he didn’t move.

you exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to look away. "i can’t do this anymore," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. your own words tasted like ash.

chan took a step closer, his voice softer now, desperate. “y/n—”

“i think we should take a break.”

the words left your mouth before you could stop them, and once they were out in the open, there was no taking them back.

chan inhaled sharply, like you had just physically struck him. his face crumpled for the briefest moment before he forced it into something unreadable. he nodded once, barely.

“fine,” he said. but it was not fine. none of this was fine.

you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his for the last time in weeks. and maybe, in some cruel way, you were both waiting—waiting for one of you to stop this, to say something, anything that could undo the damage.

but neither of you did.

and that was how it ended.

or, maybe, how it all began.

you turned away, grabbing your jacket from the couch and heading for the door. your vision blurred with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. not here. not now.

“thank you,” you stopped in the doorway, your back to him. your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of the moment threatening to crush you. “really, for everything. i wish you nothing but happiness, christopher.”

the door closed behind you with a soft click, and the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. the night air was cold against your skin as you stepped outside, but it did little to numb the ache in your chest.

you didn’t know how long you stood there, staring at the empty street, your mind replaying the argument over and over again. his words, your words, the pain and anger that had filled the room—it was all too much.

and yet, despite everything, you couldn’t stop loving him.

present time : the first snow.

the morning stretched itself thin across the sky, a pale, muted kind of light filtering in through the curtains. it was the kind of cold that bit through the windows, creeping into the cracks of the apartment like it had been waiting for permission to enter. the air felt heavier today, as if winter had fully settled into its place, pressing its weight into the walls, into the silence, into the empty spaces beside you.

you sat by the window, knees drawn up against your chest, your breath fogging up the glass. outside, snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, dancing in the quiet before settling onto the pavement below. the city looked softer like this—less like the endless rush of bodies and neon lights and more like something frozen in time. for a moment, just a moment, it almost felt peaceful.

almost.

but then the memories came creeping in. the way the first snow always meant something to the both of you. how he would drag you outside, laughing, even when you whined about the cold.

"come on, it’s tradition, babe, you can’t just sit inside like an old grandma."

how he’d cup his hands together, carefully forming a snowball, only to grin mischievously before pelting it straight at your shoulder. the way you’d chase after him, slipping and stumbling, both of you breathless from laughter, cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

and then—later. after the cold had seeped into your bones, after your fingers were numb from the snow, how you’d both tumble inside, shaking off your coats, limbs tangled together as you curled up by the fireplace.

the heat of the flames casting golden light across his face, the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around you. how he’d press lazy kisses to your temple, whispering in that quiet, tired voice of his,

you’re warm. stay like this forever.

you blinked. the snow outside blurred for a second before settling again into focus.

it had been weeks.

weeks since that night. weeks since you last heard his voice, felt the rough callouses of his fingertips against yours. the apartment had never been this quiet before. not really. not in a way that stretched into your bones like this.

you exhaled sharply, rubbing at your eyes before pushing yourself up from the chair.

no. stop it. get up.

the cold floor met your feet as you padded toward the bathroom. the water ran hot, steam curling against the mirror as you stepped into the shower, letting it scorch against your skin, washing away whatever remnants of sleep and memories still clung to you.

you let yourself stay there longer than usual, hands braced against the tile, watching the water swirl down the drain.

by the time you stepped out, the mirror was completely fogged over, your reflection nothing more than a blur.

you ignored it.

instead, you pulled on a sweater—thick, oversized, soft. paired it with jeans, boots, wrapped a scarf around your neck. routine. just keep moving.

the apartment felt emptier than usual as you moved through it, wiping down counters, straightening pillows, clearing dishes that didn’t even need clearing. you weren’t sure why you were cleaning so meticulously. maybe it was just something to do with your hands, something to keep yourself from thinking too much.

but even then, the silence pressed in. the absence of his voice. the way he used to hum under his breath while scrolling through his phone. the way he’d reach for you absentmindedly, fingers finding yours without even thinking.

you swallowed.

the clock on the wall read 10:42 am.

late. you needed to leave soon.

you grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders, fingers fumbling with the buttons. your scarf was next, wrapped snugly around your neck, followed by your gloves. you caught your reflection in the mirror near the door and paused.

the sweater you had chosen—it was his.

you thought you had returned all of his belongings that stayed in your apartment.

his sweaters, hoodies, tees, sweats.

maybe this was the unlucky— or lucky one.

a quiet, humorless laugh escaped your lips.

of course it was.

you debated changing it. maybe you should. but then again… maybe it didn’t matter.

the streets were covered in a thin layer of snow as you stepped outside, the air crisp against your skin. your breath curled in white clouds, disappearing into the winter sky. people moved past you—some alone, some hand in hand, their laughter rising into the air. you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, shoving your hands into your pockets.

the restaurant— your restaurant, the empty place by the busy crossroads you'd bought a few years ago, was a few blocks away. a small, warm place you had always loved—your own little escape from the rest of the world. the bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside, warmth wrapping around you instantly.

you forced a small smile at the familiar faces, nodding in greeting.

routine.

just keep moving.

the warm, familiar scent of fresh bread and spices enveloped you as you stepped behind the counter, shrugging off your coat. the restaurant was alive in the way it always was at this time of the day—soft clatters of cutlery against ceramic plates, the low hum of conversation from occupied tables, the occasional burst of laughter from a corner booth.

it smelled like home, like routine, like something steady when everything else felt uncertain.

“morning, boss.”

you glanced up to see mira, one of the servers, leaning against the counter with a knowing smirk. she had been working here almost as long as you could remember, joined a few months after you started the restaurant chain, and she knew you well enough to read your moods before you even said a word.

“you’re late,” she teased, but there was no bite to her words.

“i’m not late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you tied your apron around your waist. “i just… took my time getting here.”

mira gave you a look—one that was far too perceptive for your liking—but didn’t press. instead, she just handed you a notepad. “table five wants a refill on their coffee, and table two asked about the special of the day.”

you took the notepad with a nod. “got it.”

and just like that, the day began.

the hours passed in a blur of movement and familiarity. you lost yourself in the rhythm of it—taking orders, pouring coffee, clearing tables, exchanging pleasantries with customers who had been coming here for years. the work was muscle memory at this point, your hands moving on autopilot while your mind drifted elsewhere.

somewhere in the middle of the lunch rush, as you wiped down the counter, jaehyun—one of the chefs, poked his head out from the back. “hey, y/n, you eating today or just running on caffeine and regrets?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “i’ll eat later.”

“you always say that.”

“i mean it this time.”

he narrowed his eyes. “you said that last time too.”

“i—okay, fine.” you held up your hands in surrender. “i’ll grab something when the rush dies down.”

he grumbled something under his breath before disappearing back into the kitchen, and mira smirked from where she was refilling a salt shaker.

“he’s got a point,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “when’s the last time you actually sat down and ate a meal?”

you waved her off, busying yourself with stacking plates. “i eat. at home.”

“uh-huh. sure.”

you didn’t have an answer to that, so you didn’t bother giving one.

the day continued. the restaurant buzzed with life—friends catching up over coffee, families sharing warm meals, couples leaning into each other, their conversations dipping into soft murmurs.

you liked this. you liked watching people exist in these little moments, as if nothing else outside of these walls mattered.

an older woman at table seven caught your eye as you passed by. she smiled kindly. “it’s nice seeing you again, dear.”

you blinked. “oh—thank you. it’s nice seeing you too.”

“you’ve looked a bit tired lately,” she observed, stirring her tea slowly. “make sure you’re taking care of yourself, alright?”

there was something about the way she said it—something warm, something familiar—that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

you swallowed. “i will.”

you weren’t sure if that was a lie.

the evening arrived before you realized it, the once-busy restaurant now quiet as the last of the customers trickled out into the cold night. the staff began to clock out one by one, exchanging tired goodbyes as they pulled on their coats.

“you sure you don’t need help closing up?” mira asked, pausing at the door.

you shook your head, forcing a small smile. “i got it.”

she studied you for a moment before sighing. “alright. don’t stay too late.”

“i won’t.”

she gave you one last skeptical look before disappearing into the night, leaving you alone with the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of the wind outside.

you exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

the silence was heavier now.

slowly, methodically, you began the closing routine. you wiped down tables, stacked chairs, swept the floors, turned off the neon ‘open’ sign that flickered against the window. the motions were comforting in a way. predictable.

but when you finally locked the door and turned to face the empty restaurant, something about it felt unbearably lonely.

this place had always been warm, filled with laughter and conversation and life. but right now, standing here alone with nothing but the sound of your own breathing, it felt hollow.

you swallowed, staring at the spot where he used to sit when he came by to wait for you after his own schedule.

the memories came too easily. the way he’d lean back in the chair, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his lips as he watched you work.

you’re cute when you’re focused, he’d say. like, ridiculously cute.

you had always rolled your eyes at that, but—god, what you would give to hear it again.

shaking your head, you grabbed your coat and turned off the last of the lights.

the night was waiting.

and so was the silence.

. . .

the car was absurdly cold when you got in, the leather seats stiff from the winter air. you sighed, rubbing your hands together before gripping the steering wheel, the silence of the empty parking lot pressing against you.

the restaurant behind you was dark now, locked up for the night, its warmth left behind in the echo of distant laughter and clinking glasses.

you stared ahead for a moment, letting the weight of the day settle onto your shoulders. the exhaustion clung to you, heavy and unmoving, but there was something else beneath it—something quieter. something you didn’t want to name.

with a slow inhale, you turned the key in the ignition. the engine rumbled to life, the soft hum filling the car as headlights illuminated the frost-kissed windshield. you sat there for a beat longer, watching your breath fog up the glass.

then, finally, you pulled out onto the road.

the city stretched out before you, streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. the roads weren’t as busy at this hour, but there was still movement—taxis weaving through lanes, pedestrians bundled up in coats, the occasional cyclist braving the cold.

the world kept moving, even when you felt stuck.

your fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel as the radio played low through the speakers. some old song, one you barely recognized. the melody was soft, almost lulling, the kind of tune that made your thoughts wander.

and they did.

“you’re always working.”

his voice was still so clear in your mind. that night, the argument—it played back in fragments, like scenes from a movie you couldn’t turn off.

“and what about you, chan? you act like you’re the only one trying here.”

your grip tightened. the memory of his voice, the sharpness of his words, the way frustration had tangled between you like something inevitable.

“maybe we need a break.”

you blinked hard. the traffic light ahead turned red, and you eased the car to a stop, exhaling as you leaned back against the seat.

the world outside the window blurred slightly, the glow of headlights streaking across the wet pavement. snow had started falling again, light and unhurried, swirling beneath the streetlights.

you used to love this time of year—the first snowfall, the way the city seemed to quiet under its weight.

and him.

you remembered the way he used to pull you into the cold, ignoring your protests as he dragged you into the snow-covered streets, laughter spilling from his lips like warmth against the winter air.

“you’re so dramatic,” you had grumbled, shivering in your coat.

“and you’re no fun,” he had teased, tugging you closer. “come on, just one snowball fight.”

“you say that every year.”

“and every year, darling, you lose.”

the memory made something inside you ache. the way he would wrap you in his arms afterward, pressing his cold nose against your cheek just to make you squirm.

the way you’d sit by the fireplace afterward, tangled together under thick blankets, sharing hot cocoa that he always made too sweet.

it had been easy, then.

before the late nights, before the exhaustion, before the words that had chipped away at what you had built together.

before you started feeling like you were losing him.

the light turned green.

you blinked, shaking your head as if to clear it, and pressed your foot against the gas pedal.

and then—

the world tilted.

a sickening crunch of metal. the sharp, jarring impact of force slamming into you. the violent, uncontrollable spinning.

for a split second, all you saw were headlights—blinding, swallowing everything in white—before everything blurred into chaos.

the sound was deafening. screeching tires, the shriek of twisting steel, car horns blaring, the distant shouts of people. the seatbelt dug into your chest, locking you in place as the car was thrown sideways. your vision swam, dizziness clawing at you, and then—

silence.

everything felt… far away.

the ringing in your ears was the only sound you could process, drowning out the panic outside. your vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening, swallowing up the streetlights, the movement, the shapes of people rushing toward you.

your fingers twitched, barely. your head lolled slightly to the side, and through the cracked windshield, you saw red and blue lights flashing in the distance.

voices.

faint. muffled.

“is she breathing?”

“call an ambulance—”

“stay with me, okay?”

you wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come.

your eyelids felt heavier now. the weight of exhaustion, of impact, of something you didn’t want to name, pressed down on you, pulling you under.

somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.

then—

darkness.

. . .

the world around you existed in fragments.

there was no time, no clear beginning or end—just moments bleeding into each other, slipping between consciousness and the heavy pull of unconsciousness. you weren’t awake, but you weren’t entirely gone either. you were somewhere, floating in the space between pain and oblivion.

the first thing you registered was the weightlessness, the peculiar sensation of being lifted, carried. the cold, biting wind was gone, replaced with the sterile scent of something clinical—alcohol, antiseptic, the faint metallic tang of blood.

voices. sharp, rushed. urgent.

"bp’s dropping—move!"

"we need to stabilize—"

"get her on the stretcher—"

there were hands on you, pressing against your limbs, holding you still. you wanted to move, to speak, to tell them that you were here, but your body refused to listen. it felt like trying to swim against a current that only dragged you further down.

the pressure of something tightening around your arm. the firm press of fingers against your wrist—checking, counting, assessing. the beeping of machines, rapid and rhythmic, like an anxious heartbeat.

"possible concussion—mild contusions—check for internal bleeding."

the sounds flickered in and out. you slipped again, deeper into the darkness, but not completely.

then—light.

harsh, fluorescent, searing through closed eyelids.

the movement stopped. the sensation of being lifted again, transferred. the scrape of wheels against tile. doors swinging open. more voices.

"pupils reactive—no immediate signs of severe trauma—"

"get an iv started."

the world tilted. the mattress beneath you was firmer than the seat of your car, colder than the pavement. a hand smoothed over your forehead, pushing back strands of hair matted with sweat. the touch was gentle, grounding.

"you're in the hospital," a voice said, distant but soothing. "we’re going to take care of you. just rest."

rest.

the word settled over you like a command, a lullaby. the beeping of the machines steadied. you let yourself be pulled under again.

when you resurfaced, it was slow.

a dull ache pulsed at the edges of your awareness, the type that came in waves—bearable, but constant. your body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and something else.

the first thing you saw was the ceiling. white. sterile. unmoving.

then, your own hands—resting limply against stiff sheets, an iv taped to your wrist, an oxygen clip attached to your finger.

a hospital room.

the realization settled into your bones before you fully processed it. the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the faint hum of ventilation, the low murmur of voices outside the door—it was all unfamiliar.

your throat was dry. you swallowed, wincing at the soreness that stretched across your ribs, the dull sting blooming in your arm. not unbearable. but not comfortable either.

there was movement beside you.

a nurse.

she had kind eyes, the kind that made you feel like you weren’t alone in this too-bright, too-quiet place. she glanced at you, a small, reassuring smile appearing as she noticed you were awake.

"welcome back," she said softly, reaching to adjust something on the iv line.

you tried to speak—tried to ask what had happened, how long you had been here—but the moment your lips parted, she shook her head.

"don't strain yourself," she murmured, voice gentle but firm. "the doctor will come by soon, but for now, just rest. talking will only make it worse."

you frowned, but the protest never made it past your lips. even if it had, you doubted it would’ve been much more than a weak rasp.

she adjusted your pillow, moving carefully, as if she knew exactly where you hurt. the iv line shifted slightly, the cool liquid continuing to drip down into your veins, dulling the sharper edges of pain.

"your car got in an accident," the nurse continued, her tone soft, as though the words themselves were delicate. "you’re lucky—it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. some injuries, but nothing that won’t heal."

lucky.

the word felt foreign, distant. you had stopped at the light. you had waited. and yet—

your fingers twitched slightly against the blanket. you tried to piece together what had happened, the moment the world had gone from mundane to chaos, but the memories were scattered. all you could recall were headlights and the sickening weight of impact.

the nurse must have noticed the way your breathing shifted, because she placed a light hand on your arm, grounding.

"you need to rest," she said again, softer this time. "sleep will help."

you wanted to argue. you wanted to ask why this had happened, how long you had been here, if anyone had come to see you. if he—

but your body was already betraying you, exhaustion dragging at your limbs.

the pain wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough. enough to remind you that you weren’t okay. that you wouldn’t be for a while.

so you let your eyes slip shut.

not because you weren’t afraid of the darkness this time.

but because, for the moment, there was nothing else you could do.

the hospital was quiet in a way that felt unnatural.

not the usual city stillness—the kind that came late at night when the streets were empty and only the hum of distant cars remained—but a silence laced with something heavier. something sterile. something fragile.

outside, the world moved on. people walked down busy sidewalks, cars skidded through melting patches of snow, neon signs flickered against the early evening dimness. life carried on, indifferent.

but here, in this fluorescent-lit corridor, the world had paused.

the nurse glanced at the clipboard in her hands, the patient’s name standing stark against the white paper. her brow furrowed slightly before she exhaled, reaching for the phone on the counter.

"are you sure this is the right contact?" the doctor beside her asked, checking the same file.

"it’s listed as her emergency number."

the nurse hesitated for only a moment before pressing the call button.

one ring.

two.

a click.

the voice that answered was slightly out of breath, like they had been running.

"hello?"

"hello, is this..."

. . .

silence. the kind that didn’t come from confusion, but realization.

the kind that carried weight.

and then the line went dead.

the waiting room door pushed open half an hour later.

the person entered in a rush, but not carelessly—like he had run, but forced himself to slow down the second he stepped inside. the nurses at the desk barely had a chance to greet him before he was already speaking, voice tight with urgency.

"i’m here for y/n l/n. i got a call."

one of the nurses, the same one who had called, recognized him immediately. she straightened.

"she's stable. sleeping. but—"

"what happened?" he didn’t mean to interrupt, but the words were out before he could stop them.

the doctor nearby spoke this time, his voice calm.

"a car accident. her injuries are moderate—some bruised ribs, minor fractures. a concussion, but nothing too severe. she was lucky. she'll need rest, but she'll recover."

the weight of those words landed squarely on his chest. he exhaled shakily.

"can i see her?"

the doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse before nodding.

"she's still unconscious.. had woken up for a bit, after we had gotten her here, but then she dozed out again. you can sit with her. just keep your voice down."

a nod. then, without another word, he followed them down the hall.

room 801 was dimly lit, the blinds drawn halfway.

the beeping of the heart monitor was steady, a quiet reassurance that life still lingered in this room, soft and persistent.

and there you were.

lying against the pristine white sheets, head turned slightly to the side, expression peaceful in a way that didn’t match the reality of what had happened.

your arm was bandaged, an iv drip feeding slow, steady doses of pain relief into your veins. a bruise, darkening at the edges, sat on your temple. your breathing was even, but too still. too quiet.

he took a step forward. then another.

until he was at your bedside, standing so close he could see the faint rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers twitched slightly even in sleep.

he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

and then—finally—he let himself feel it.

the panic. the helplessness. the gut-wrenching thought of what if?

what if the call had been worse? what if it hadn’t come at all? what if this had been it?

his fingers curled into a fist, nails pressing into his palm. he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep it together.

but his eyes were burning.

and before he could stop himself, he was sinking into the chair beside the bed, his hand hovering near yours but not touching. not yet.

"i’m sorry," he whispered, the words breaking in his throat.

you didn’t hear him.

but he said it anyway.

. . .

the room was quiet—too quiet.

a suffocating kind of stillness. the kind that settled in hospitals, lingering in the air like a held breath. it pressed against the walls, snaked into the cracks of the cold linoleum floor, wrapped itself around the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of metal. even the steady beeping of the monitor felt muted, almost like a whisper in the vast emptiness of it all.

and then there was him.

sitting hunched over in the chair, elbows braced against his knees, fingers threaded into his curls as he stared at the floor like it held all the answers he didn’t have.

his breath came shallow, unsteady. his chest felt tight, too tight, like the air wasn’t reaching his lungs no matter how hard he tried. his heartbeat pounded against his ribs, out of sync with the quiet rhythm of the machines.

the sight of you in that hospital bed was something he could barely process.

your face, pale against the stark white pillow. your arm, wrapped in clean bandages. the soft rise and fall of your chest, far too slow for his liking.

it didn’t feel real.

none of this felt real.

he swallowed thickly, but it did nothing to rid the lump in his throat.

he had been fine—or at least, he had convinced himself he was—right up until he saw you lying there, unmoving, their body smaller beneath the weight of the hospital sheets. that was when the panic finally crashed over him, dragging him under like a tide.

the kind of panic that left him hollow. that twisted something deep inside his chest, wringing him dry until all that was left was guilt and fear and—

he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get a grip.

but the harder he tried, the worse it got.

his shoulders trembled. his fingers dug into his hair. his breath came out in a sharp, shaky exhale. and then—before he could stop it—his first sob broke free.

it tore through him, raw and aching, a sound ripped straight from the deepest part of his soul. his whole body caved under the weight of it, his forehead pressing against the heel of his palm as another sob wracked through his chest.

"shit," he choked out, barely above a whisper.

his hand clenched into a fist, nails pressing into his palm.

he wasn’t supposed to be like this.

he was supposed to be the calm one. the strong one. the one who kept things together even when everything else was falling apart.

but right now?

right now, he felt helpless.

his eyes burned as he lifted his head, gaze falling on you again. he wanted to reach out—wanted to take your hand in his, press his forehead against your knuckles, tell you he was here. that he wasn’t going anywhere. that everything was going to be okay.

but he couldn’t. because.. again,

because what if it wasn’t?

what if this was his fault?

the thought hit him again like a punch to the gut.

what if he had done something differently? what if he had been there? what if you hadn’t been alone?

what if—

"i’m so, so sorry, y/n," he whispered, voice breaking.

it wasn’t enough.

it would never be enough.

but it was all he had.

seconds passed. maybe minutes. he wasn’t sure. time had blurred into nothing but the quiet hum of the machines and the faint, rhythmic sound of his breathing.

he hadn’t moved from his spot.

couldn’t.

his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and emotions he wasn’t ready to name. his hands were trembling, his fingers flexing and curling against his knees as if trying to ground himself. but nothing worked.

the guilt still clung to him like a second skin.

and the worst part?

you didn’t even know he was here.

didn’t know that he had dropped everything the second he got the call. that he had nearly broken the speed limit trying to get here. that he had spent the last hour sitting by your side, trying and failing to pull himself together.

didn’t know how much he missed you.

how much he needed you.

he exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his face.

then, hesitantly—almost as if afraid they would disappear if he touched you—he reached out.

his fingers hovered over yours for a second, hesitant, before finally pressing lightly against the back of your hand.

a warmth that was barely there. a quiet reassurance that you were still here. still breathing.

his throat tightened.

"please wake up," he murmured, barely audible.

it wasn’t a demand.

it wasn’t even a request.

it was a plea.

a desperate, aching plea that carried every ounce of guilt and regret and love that he hadn’t been able to say before.

but you didn’t move.

didn’t stir.

didn’t even twitch.

and that—more than anything—was what truly broke him.

the past few weeks : what remains in the silence

the studio lights hummed overhead, casting a dim, sterile glow over the cluttered desk, the scattered sheets of lyrics crumpled in frustration, the empty coffee cups pushed aside and forgotten. the air was thick, weighed down by the scent of exhaustion—of ink and paper, of stale caffeine and sleepless nights.

seated at the console, shoulders hunched, was him, fingers threading through his curls as he stared at the blinking waveform on the screen. the metronome ticked steadily in his ears, a cruel reminder of time passing, of the hours slipping through his fingers like sand.

it was late. too late. but that didn’t matter.

the others had gone home. the studio halls were quiet now, the usual buzz of voices and laughter absent, leaving only the low hum of the equipment and the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the table.

but he couldn’t leave.

not yet.

not when his chest still ached like this.

not when his mind kept playing the same loop of memories, over and over, like a cruel, broken record.

"you don’t get it, do you?"

the words echoed in his head, sharp and raw. your voice—frustrated, hurt—lingered like a ghost, filling every inch of the suffocating silence.

he had said things, too. things he didn’t mean. things he hadn’t even realized were leaving his mouth until it was too late.

and then it had ended.

just like that.

no closure. no finality. just silence.

and god, the silence was worse than anything else.

it was deafening.

it followed him everywhere.

to rehearsals, where his body moved on autopilot, executing every step with precision but feeling none of it. to meetings, where words blurred together and became meaningless noise. to the dorm, where the others cast worried glances his way but didn’t push, because they knew.

they knew he was a storm waiting to happen.

and here, in the studio, where it was just him and the music—his only escape—he found that even that had turned against him.

because every melody he wrote sounded like you.

every lyric that spilled from his pen became a memory. a moment. a fragment of something he had lost.

and he couldn’t do it.

he couldn’t use your voice as his muse.

so he erased them. again and again.

trashed the songs. deleted the files. ripped the pages from his notebook and threw them aside, watching as the words—his words, their words—were reduced to nothing more than discarded, crumpled paper on the floor.

but it didn’t stop.

it didn’t stop the ache.

didn’t stop the way his fingers shook when he reached for another blank sheet, knowing it would end up the same way.

didn’t stop the frustration that built in his chest, hot and suffocating, curling around his ribs like a vice.

"hyung."

the voice was soft, hesitant.

chan barely glanced up, recognizing the figure lingering in the doorway.

minho.

the younger guy leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyes dark with concern.

chan knew that look. knew the way minho studied him, like he was trying to pick apart the pieces of him that had begun to unravel.

"you should go home," minho said after a beat.

chan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. not this again.

"i’m fine."

minho’s eyes narrowed. "no, you’re not."

chan pressed his lips together, turning his gaze back to the screen, hoping minho would take the hint and leave it alone.

but minho never left things alone.

"you look like hell."

"thanks."

"that wasn’t a compliment."

chan sighed, rubbing at his temples. the headache that had been lingering for hours was starting to settle in, a dull, throbbing pulse at the base of his skull.

"i just need to finish this song."

minho’s expression didn’t change. "and then what?"

chan didn’t answer.

because he didn’t know.

didn’t know what came next.

didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made.

didn’t know how to stop feeling like he was drowning in his own emotions.

minho stepped further into the room, his gaze softening. "hyung."

chan swallowed. looked away.

"just let me work." his voice was quieter this time. almost pleading.

minho studied him for a long moment before exhaling through his nose.

"fine. but if you pass out from exhaustion, i’m dragging your ass out of here myself."

with that, minho turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

chan sat there, staring at the empty doorway, his hands clenched into fists.

he should go home.

should rest.

should sleep.

but he wouldn’t.

because the moment he closed his eyes, you would be there.

in his memories. in his mind.

and he didn’t know if he could handle that.

present : five days in winter

the hospital was cold.

not the kind of cold that seeped into bones, but the kind that settled somewhere deeper, heavier. a silence that stretched too long, too empty, filled only with the steady beeping of machines and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the far wall. the scent of antiseptic lingered, clinical and distant, sterilizing not just the air but the very essence of the place.

chan had learned to hate that smell.

it clung to him now, in his black hoodie, in his hair, in the tired lines beneath his eyes.

five days.

it had been five days since he first walked into this room, five days since he first saw you lying there, still and unmoving, lost somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness.

and he hadn’t left.

not really.

sure, he went back to the dorm at night, sometimes. sometimes he sat in the studio, headphones on, staring at unfinished tracks that never seemed to progress beyond the first verse. but his mind was always here. with you.

and when he was here, he stayed for hours.

ignoring texts. ignoring calls. ignoring schedules that piled up like a stack of unopened letters.

he didn’t care.

he couldn’t.

because every time he walked into this room, every time he sat beside the bed and saw your still face, it felt like something inside him cracked just a little bit more.

the doctors had reassured him. told him there was nothing to panic over. that you were breathing fine. that your body was simply taking the rest it needed to heal. that waking up was a matter of time.

but what if time took too long?

chan exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. his fingers threaded through his curls, gripping the strands, frustration curling into his shoulders.

"you’re missing out on so much, you know?" his voice was quiet, barely more than a murmur. "the first real snowfall happened yesterday. the big kind. the kind you like."

he swallowed, glancing at your face. no movement. no response.

"some kids were playing in it. there was this little boy outside the café across the street. his mom was trying to get him to go inside, but he just kept throwing snowballs at his sister. reminded me of you."

a bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you always loved winter, even though you complained about the cold."

silence.

the only response was the quiet beeping of the monitor.

chan sighed, leaning back against the chair, letting his eyes drift up to the ceiling.

it wasn’t fair.

it wasn’t fair how time kept moving forward like nothing had happened, how the world outside still spun, still breathed, still continued—while in here, in this small, sterile room, everything felt suspended.

stuck.

frozen.

a soft knock came at the door. chan barely reacted as it opened, the familiar figures slipping inside.

hyunjin and felix.

both looked exhausted in their own way. felix had a bag of snacks in his hands, a feeble attempt at normalcy, and hyunjin���s face was tense, like he had spent too much time trying to convince himself he wasn’t worried.

"hyung," felix spoke first, his voice cautious. "you should go home for a bit."

chan barely glanced at him. "i’m fine."

"you always say that." hyunjin crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "and it’s never true."

felix sighed, walking over and placing the snack bag on the table.

"have you eaten?"

chan shrugged. he didn’t remember.

felix gave him a look before sighing again, softer this time. "she’s going to be okay, you know."

chan exhaled sharply.

"you don’t know that."

hyunjin scoffed. "don’t do.. that. don’t start with the worst-case scenarios. the doctors literally said she just needs time."

"yeah, and how long is that gonna take?" chan’s voice wavered, and he hated how it did. hated how the helplessness crept into his tone despite how hard he tried to shove it down.

hyunjin frowned, his expression softening just slightly.

"she’ll wake up," he said, quieter this time. "she’s strong."

chan swallowed hard. he knew that. knew it better than anyone.

but it didn’t make this any easier.

didn’t make the waiting any less agonizing.

felix sat down on the other side of the bed, glancing at your unconscious form. "she looks peaceful."

chan didn’t answer. he didn’t know if he could agree.

because to him, peace and stillness weren’t the same.

and this—this unbearable stillness—felt more like limbo.

like something unfinished.

like something waiting to break.

and god, he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

the morning air outside the hospital was crisp, the early sun painting soft streaks of gold across the pale blue sky. inside, the hospital remained the same—a quiet combination of beeping monitors, hushed voices, and the sterile scent of disinfectant that had long since embedded itself into chan’s lungs.

he arrived early. earlier than usual.

not that it mattered—his sense of time had warped over the last six days, stretched thin between restless nights and hours spent sitting beside a bed that felt both too still and too fragile.

he pushed the door open slowly, careful not to let the hinges creak too loud, as if any noise might disturb you. but you hadn’t woken up yesterday. or the day before that. or the day before that.

still, chan had hope.

"morning, sleepyhead." his voice was soft, a little hoarse from exhaustion, but there was warmth in it nonetheless.

he shut the door behind him, moving to his usual chair beside the bed. his body moved on autopilot—placing his bag down, pulling out a bottle of water he wouldn’t drink, adjusting the blanket that didn’t need adjusting.

just something to keep his hands busy.

something to stop the weight in his chest from pressing too deep.

"you missed another sunrise," he murmured, fingers ghosting over the back of your hand. "it was a pretty one, too. all pink and orange—one of those skies you’d probably take a million pictures of and never post."

a weak smile tugged at his lips as he exhaled. "i can already hear you scolding me for not taking one for you."

silence.

the beeping of the machines remained steady. the slow, gentle rise and fall of your chest didn’t falter.

chan swallowed.

he shifted, resting his forearms on the edge of the bed. his fingers absentmindedly traced over your knuckles—slow, barely-there movements, as if they might break under the weight of his touch.

"remember that one time we tried making that french hot chocolate you saw a tiktok of, and ended up burning it?" he huffed a soft chuckle. "you were so mad. said i ruined the perfect winter aesthetic. but then you tasted it anyway, and we both agreed it wasn’t that bad. we even made it again, just to prove we could do it properly."

he exhaled through his nose.

"i think about stuff like that a lot."

he swallowed again, throat thick, voice quieter. "i think about you.. a lot."

his fingers curled around yours, gentle, firm. "you’re not allowed to keep me waiting too long, you know. my patience only goes so far."

the day passed like that.

slowly.

like wading through water.

chan sat beside you, talking sometimes, falling into silence at others. occasionally, he’d lean back and let his eyes slip shut, only to jolt them open again minutes later, unwilling to let himself fully drift.

the others didn’t visit today.

he was grateful for that.

he didn’t want to share this space.

not today.

not when he felt so—raw.

evening settled before he realized it. the room darkened except for the faint glow of the bedside lamp. outside, the city continued—cars honking, streetlights flickering on, the world moving forward as if nothing had changed.

chan hadn’t moved much.

still in the same chair.

still holding your hand.

his thumb rubbed slow circles against your skin.

the exhaustion was catching up to him again.

he fought it.

tried to ignore the heaviness in his limbs.

tried to push past the way his blinks grew slower, the way his head tilted slightly forward.

but eventually, he gave in.

just for a second.

just long enough for his body to sag, for his grip on your hand to loosen slightly, for the warmth of your skin against his to lull him into something shallow, something that wasn’t quite sleep but wasn’t entirely wakefulness either.

minutes passed.

then—

a twitch.

a faint pressure.

the smallest tug against his hand.

his eyes snapped open instantly, breath catching in his throat.

he jolted upright, gaze flickering down to your fingers—his heart hammering against his ribs.

had he imagined it?

had his mind finally started playing tricks on him?

no.

because there it was again.

a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of your fingers against his.

his breath shuddered.

"hey—" he whispered, eyes wide, gripping your hand a little tighter. "hey, love, can you—?"

the door creaked open before he could finish.

the nurse stepped inside, clipboard in hand, but the second she saw the look on his face—saw the way his hands trembled slightly as he held yours—her expression shifted.

"what’s wrong?"

chan exhaled, barely able to find the words. "she—she moved."

the nurse’s eyes widened before she swiftly turned back toward the hall.

"doctor!"

chan barely registered the next few moments.

footsteps.

voices.

the doctor entering, the nurse moving to check the monitors, the air shifting into something more urgent—but not panicked. not alarming. just… observant.

"vitals are stable," one of them murmured.

"it’s a good sign," another reassured.

chan sat there, unmoving, barely breathing as he watched them work—checking, adjusting, monitoring.

. . .

darkness.

it is soft, quiet, weightless. a vast ocean with no shore in sight, where time does not exist, where thought drifts like mist, thin and shapeless. you are floating, untethered, caught in the liminal space between nowhere and somewhere. there is no urgency, no need to wake, no pressing demand. just the silence. just the stillness.

then—something shifts.

a sound.

faint. a murmur against the quiet.

it trickles in like light through the cracks of a door, hesitant yet persistent. a voice. low, gentle, carrying the weight of something you cannot yet name.

you want to reach for it.

but your body is heavy, limbs sinking, lungs thick with something dense and unmovable. the darkness doesn’t want to let you go. it tugs at you, pleading, desperate to keep you here, to keep you safe, to keep you—

another voice.

closer this time.

then—a touch.

warm, real.

a thumb brushing over your knuckles, a soft squeeze, something grounding in the haze.

the weight in your chest shifts. not gone, but different. a tether, a pull toward the surface. the nothingness that held you so gently begins to peel away, unraveling thread by thread, revealing something beyond the void.

your fingers twitch.

there is a sharp inhale—someone else’s, not yours.

the silence ripples.

then— light.

blinding, even through the barrier of your closed eyelids. it seeps in like an intrusion, pushing back against the murk of unconsciousness.

your head throbs. your throat is dry. your skin feels strange, as if it doesn’t belong to you.

then, after what feels like forever—

you open your eyes.

at first, there is nothing but a blur. a smear of color, shifting shapes, movement too fast for your sluggish mind to process. you blink, once, twice, and the world slowly begins to sharpen.

white walls. fluorescent lighting. the steady beeping of machines.

a hospital.

the realization comes sluggishly, like trying to recall the details of a dream upon waking. you start to remember how you got here. you remember why.

but then—

"y/n?"

a voice.

your gaze flickers to the source, slow and unsteady, as if your body is learning how to exist all over again.

chan.

he is beside you, close, his body half-perched on the chair, half-leaning toward you like he doesn’t trust the space between. his hands are on yours—solid, warm, trembling.

his eyes, wide with something that looks like relief and devastation twisted into one, are locked onto your face as if looking away might shatter you back into nothingness.

your throat is raw when you try to speak.

nothing comes out.

chan moves instantly, reaching for the cup on the bedside table. you watch, dazed, as he adjusts the straw, his movements quick but careful, and then he’s guiding it to your lips.

"here. just a sip."

you take it.

the water is cool, soothing against your throat, but your body feels unfamiliar, unsteady, as if you are a guest in your own skin. you pull away after only a small sip, and he sets the cup back down.

his hand returns to yours.

like it never left.

there is a moment of silence.

then, softly—

"you scared me."

his voice cracks. just slightly. barely noticeable, but you hear it. feel it.

the weight of it settles in your chest.

you swallow. try again.

"how long?"

the sound of your own voice surprises you. it is hoarse, fragile, barely more than a whisper.

chan exhales, running a hand through his curls. he looks exhausted, like sleep has been a stranger to him for far too long.

"six days."

you blink.

your mind tries to grasp the number, the weight of it, but everything feels slow, like you are running through molasses.

"i was… asleep?"

"more like unconscious," he corrects, his thumb brushing absently against your knuckles. "the doctors said it wasn’t too dangerous, but—"

he stops. shakes his head.

"it felt dangerous to me."

your chest tightens.

his fingers curl around yours, firmer now, as if testing to make sure you are real.

"you wouldn’t wake up," he murmurs, voice quieter now. "no matter how much i talked to you, no matter how much i—" he exhales, shaking his head. "i thought—"

he stops himself.

his jaw clenches.

you squeeze his hand.

his gaze snaps to yours immediately, like the smallest movement from you is something monumental.

you clear your throat, trying to fight past the dryness, past the exhaustion clinging to your bones. "i’m here."

it’s not much.

but it is enough.

chan swallows hard, his lips pressing together, and for the first time, you see it. the glassiness in his eyes, the way his breath shudders, the way relief sits so heavy on his shoulders it almost looks like it might break him.

"yeah," he exhales. "yeah, you are."

the tension in the room softens. the air shifts.

you watch as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing the lightest kiss against the back of it.

his eyes shut for a moment, like he is trying to ground himself in the sensation.

when he opens them again, there is something softer there.

"don’t scare me like that again, yeah?"

his voice is steady, but you can hear the emotion beneath it.

you give the faintest nod, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"i’ll try."

it’s the best you can offer.

and for now—

it is enough.

the moment chan’s hand was gently pried away from yours, a chill settled over your skin, one that had nothing to do with the temperature of the hospital room. his warmth had been the only thing tethering you to something familiar, something steady. but now—now it was gone.

"mr. bahng, we need you to wait outside while we check on her," one of the nurses had told him. a request, but also not.

you had seen the hesitation in his eyes, the reluctance, the way his fingers had twitched as if they didn't want to let go. but he listened. because it was for you. because it was what was needed.

now, the door clicked shut behind him, and the room felt bigger. louder, with the beeping of the monitors, the shuffle of nurses moving around you, the crinkle of gloves being pulled on.

“alright, sweetheart, we’re just going to do a quick check-up, alright?” the nurse closest to you—an older woman with kind eyes and soft hands—offered you a reassuring smile as she reached for your wrist, checking your pulse. “you’ve been through quite a bit, so let us know if anything feels off.”

you swallowed, throat still dry, but nodded.

the world still felt slow, like you were wading through water. the dull ache in your limbs, the stiffness of your joints—it was a strange thing, waking up in a body that had been still for so long.

someone else adjusted the iv drip beside you, and you felt the cool trickle of medicine entering your veins.

“you were lucky, you know.” the nurse’s voice was light, almost teasing. “your injuries could have been a lot worse.”

your injuries.

the words settled over you like a distant echo. you had almost forgotten.

“what.. what else happened?” your voice was rough, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something fragile.

the nurses exchanged a glance. then, the older woman—the one who had spoken first—tilted her head slightly. “do you remember anything?”

your brows furrowed, but you managed a light nod.

the memory was there, hazy and fractured, like a dream slipping through your fingers the harder you tried to hold onto it.

the road.

the red light.

the blur of headlights.

the sound—

your stomach twisted.

“i—” you swallowed hard. “a car accident.”

the nurse nodded. “yes. you were brought in unconscious. you woke up for a few minutes, you remember any of that? some injuries—nothing too major, but enough to keep you out for a few days.”

a few days.

that still didn’t feel real.

you exhaled shakily, trying to absorb the information, but your mind felt slow, reluctant to process everything all at once.

the nurse squeezed your hand gently. “you’re going to be okay, sweetheart. you just need some time to heal.”

there was a soft rustling as another nurse adjusted the pillows behind you, shifting your body slightly so you were more upright. the change in position sent a wave of dizziness through you, but you didn’t protest.

a few more checks—light in your eyes, testing reflexes, changing out bandages. you winced when they cleaned one of the scrapes along your arm, but the nurse was quick to murmur a gentle, “i know, sweetheart, almost done.”

then, just as she was finishing up, her voice took on a different note.

“your boyfriend, by the way,” she said casually, as if the words weren’t about to send your heart into a spiral, “has been coming in every day since we called him.”

you froze.

the nurse didn’t seem to notice. she kept adjusting the blankets around you, her tone light. “your emergency contact, right? he looked ready to drop everything the second we rang him.”

your lips parted, but you didn’t know what to say.

boyfriend?

boyfriend.

your thoughts fumbled over the word.

the nurse chuckled softly. “oh, don’t look so surprised, sweetheart. it was obvious. the way he was hovering over you, holding your hand like he was afraid to let go? if that’s not love, i don’t know what is.”

your heart did something strange in your chest. a slow, twisting motion that left warmth blooming in its wake.

“he’s been here every single day,” she continued. “for hours. sometimes the whole day. we had to practically force him to go home and rest.”

your fingers curled slightly against the sheets.

“he talks to you, too,” she added with a small smile. “like you could hear him. maybe you could, who knows?”

you swallowed, trying to ignore the way your throat suddenly felt tight.

“he would just sit here, holding your hand, telling you about his day. about how the weather was. about how your friends were worried about you.”

the warmth in your chest grew.

“he even told you stories,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “little things. things that probably wouldn’t matter to anyone else, but he told you anyway. like you were just asleep and he was waiting for you to wake up and respond.”

something swelled in your throat.

you hadn’t been aware.

you had been floating in that quiet, in that darkness, not knowing that he had been right there.

“i think,” the nurse said after a pause, a small knowing smile tugging at her lips, “he really, really cares about you.”

your breath hitched.

the words settled deep into your bones, warming the spaces you hadn’t realized were cold.

chan had been here. everyday.

talking to you.

waiting for you.

your fingers brushed over the blanket absently, heart thrumming in your chest.

the nurse gave your hand a final squeeze before stepping back, gathering the used bandages and tools into a tray. “alright, sweetheart, we’re done here for now.”

another nurse adjusted your iv, and the beeping of the monitor remained steady, rhythmic, like a quiet reassurance.

“we’ll let your boyfriend back in now,” the older nurse teased lightly. “poor thing’s probably pacing a hole into the floor out there.���

you huffed a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly.

and then, the door opened.

and chan stepped in.

the door clicked shut behind him, but you barely noticed.

he stood just a few steps inside the hospital room, his breath caught somewhere in his chest, eyes searching yours like he needed proof—proof that you were really awake, that you were really, fully, looking at him.

you blinked at him, your throat tight, your fingers curling against the thin hospital blanket.

there was something about him. something different.

the exhaustion was written all over his face—his skin paler than usual, dark shadows pooled beneath his eyes, his shoulders slouched in a way that didn’t belong to him. his curls were disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through them too many times.

but it wasn’t just the fatigue. it was something deeper. a hesitation in the way he stood, a carefulness in his every breath, like he was afraid to move too quickly, afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you.

afraid you’d send him away.

a lump formed in your throat.

“you stayed,” you whispered.

his breath trembled as he exhaled, and then—then he was moving.

not rushing, not lunging, but stepping forward, crossing the space between you with a quiet desperation.

the chair beside your bed scraped slightly against the floor as he sank into it. his hands, shaking just barely, hovered over yours before he swallowed and finally—finally—took your fingers in his.

a choked, breathy laugh left him, something wet and exhausted and disbelieving all at once.

“of course i stayed,” he murmured.

you let out a shaky exhale, glancing down at his hands. he was warm, solid, real.

but then, something flickered over his face. his brows pulled together, his jaw tightening.

“i—” he sucked in a breath, struggling for words, his grip on your fingers tightening just slightly.

you knew that look.

he was overthinking.

regret, guilt, pain—all of it flickered in the depths of his tired brown eyes.

“i—” he tried again, then exhaled sharply. “i’m so, fucking sorry.”

your lips parted.

“for everything,” he continued, voice thick. “for the argument, for—” his voice cracked. “for not talking to you. for letting my frustration—” he broke off again, shaking his head, his fingers tightening around yours. “i should have—should have been better.”

you swallowed.

your vision blurred, the weight of everything pressing into you.

you had both been hurting. both been so lost in your own emotions, in your own pain, that you had pushed each other away.

and now—now he was here. holding your hands like they were something precious, like he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“chris,” you whispered, shaking your head, your own fingers tightening around his.

his gaze snapped up to yours, as if the sound of his name was something he had been waiting to hear.

you swallowed, blinking through the blur of your tears.

“i’m sorry, too,” you murmured.

his lips parted, something raw and vulnerable flashing across his face.

“i—” your breath hitched. “i shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have let my frustration get the best of me either.” you shook your head, swallowing hard. “i should have—should have listened more, should have—” your voice cracked. “i missed you.”

a sharp breath left him.

“you don't need to apologise. it's none of your fault, all mine, love. i missed you too,” he whispered.

and then—then he was leaning forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

you closed your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the faint traces of cologne, the warmth of something undeniably him.

his breath trembled against your skin.

“i thought—” his voice was barely above a whisper. “i thought i lost you.”

your heart clenched.

you shifted slightly, letting go of one of his hands so you could cup his face instead. your thumb brushed over his cheek, over the warmth of his skin.

his breath hitched, and then—then his own hand covered yours, holding it against his face, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you.

you swallowed, blinking rapidly against the tears in your eyes.

“i love you,” you whispered.

his breath stuttered.

then, before you could even fully process it, his arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into him, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you buried your face into his shoulder, your fingers clinging to the fabric of his hoodie, the warmth of him settling deep into your bones.

neither of you spoke for a moment.

just breathing. just existing.

just feeling the weight of everything that had been broken and the quiet, fragile way it was coming back together.

then—his voice.

soft. shaky.

“thank you for forgiving me.”

you swallowed.

his fingers curled around the back of your hospital gown, his forehead pressing against the side of your head.

“i’ll make up for it every day,” he murmured.

your breath hitched.

you pulled back just slightly, just enough to see his face, and then—then you cupped his cheeks again, tilting his head down slightly as you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead.

he let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut, hands still clutching at you.

your thumb brushed over his cheek again.

“just stay,” you whispered.

his lips parted.

then, slowly, he nodded.

and as he pulled you back into his arms, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, to the crown of your head—

you knew.

you knew that, no matter how broken things had felt, no matter how lost you had both been—

you had found your way back to each other.

and that—

that was enough.

“i love you so, so, much more, sunshine.”

now playing . . . don't leave me, my love by colde

please don't leave my side, i hate nights without you.your heart cannot be changed. what am I going to do again now?

제발, 내 곁에서 떠나가지 말아요, 그대 없는 밤은 너무 싫어. 돌이킬 수 없는 그대 마음. 이제 와서 다시 어쩌려나?

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[studioeisa]

all of the while, it was you ꩜ hyunjin x reader.

── .✦ 💌 reader uses she/her pronouns. includes: idol!hyunjin, café owner!reader, feelings realization, freeform, time skips, fluff, coffee shops & cafés, slice of life, skz ensemble.

── .✦ 🚏 i know the "i-had-no-idea-you-were-an-idol" trope is one of the oldest, most worn clichés in the book, but sometimes you have to release the corny fic into the world so it can stop haunting you 🙂↕️ the title is from landon pigg's falling in love at a coffee shop. originally posted on ao3, but then i orphaned it (lol) so here's its new home! ♡︎

── .✦ 📟 wc: 4,000+

She doesn’t admit this to Hyunjin until much later on, but when he walked into her café the first time, she had thought— as one usually does— that this ethereal boy should be a star of some sorts. A model, an actor.

Where others might have spoken up, she chose to keep it to herself. (A good choice, too. If she had said anything, Hyunjin would have never returned.)

He is shy, at first. He sits at a table far from the door and spends most of his stay doodling in his notebook.

Outside, snow begins to fall.  

Hyunjin gets on his phone to call Jeongin over. She steps out from behind the counter and lingers by the window. 

Separately, they admire the sign of the times. Hyunjin thinks of romance that can be painted. Her mind goes to warm drinks that can be sold. Briefly, the two share a glance.

They exchange no words— not a single pleasantry about the weather— but Hyunjin does offer up the smallest of smiles, which she returns. 

He goes back to his phone. She retreats to the kitchen. 

Neither of them have any idea of what was ahead. 

That day, they witness the first snow of the year together. 

Hyunjin becomes a regular. 

He’s never done that before. The most he’s been to an establishment is probably twice, thrice, before the place is overrun with fans and he has to find a new hiding spot. 

He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful. But there are some things he wants to keep to himself, and this café is one of them. He doesn’t realize how often he’s gone until, one evening, the barista at the counter says, “Your usual?” instead of waiting for him to speak.

“Yes, please,” he says. He slides over the exact payment and sits at the table he likes the most. 

Through trial and error, he figured that the café had little to no people nearing its closing time. And so he only ever stopped by in the evening, usually after practicing stages and before heading home. 

She serves him his drink, his ‘usual’, and Hyunjin blurts out something that’s not his average ‘thank you’ and ‘please’. 

“What’s your name?” he asks, because this is not the type of café where the barista has a name card on their apron. He flushes and goes on. “It’s just— I don’t think I ever got your name.” 

She laughs kindly and answers. It’s a pretty name, Hyunjin thinks to himself.

“And you?” she inquires politely. 

There’s a seed of suspicion in him, a flicker of doubt. Did she really not know him? He had been tricked before by people feigning ignorance.

But her expression is curious, and earnest, and he decides to give her the benefit of doubt. 

“Hyunjin.” 

“Hyunjin,” she repeats, as though testing the name out on her tongue. A fleeting thought passes his mind: My name sounds safe with her. 

She smiles. “It’s nice to finally know you, Hyunjin. Thanks for always coming to my café.” 

“This is yours?” he says, a little dumbstruck. He had assumed she was just an employee. 

“It is.” There’s a proud gleam in her eyes. “It’s always been my dream to own one, and here I am.”

“It’s one of my favorite places,” says Hyunjin. He’s not even exaggerating; he means it. He adores the floor-to-ceiling windows, the intricate woodwork, the potted plants in every corner.

Her smile brightens, widens. She thanks Hyunjin and is about to say more when the bell by the door chimes. “Oh, a customer. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s no problem. Go ahead.” 

She rushes over to the counter. Hyunjin sinks a bit into his seat, doing his best to avoid the newcomer’s gaze. 

That day, Hyunjin learns how a name can make a world’s difference. 

One evening, Hyunjin asks her, “What kind of music do you like?”

She looks up from bookkeeping and tongues the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. She names a handful of genres, none of which might fit the bill for Stray Kids. 

Over the past weeks, Hyunjin had gotten to know her. Her love for coffee and baked goods. Her impulsive decision to move to Korea. Her loneliness, dulled only by the steady flow of patrons visiting her shop.

There are still some weeks where he thinks it’s too good to be true. To be undiscovered this long, to meet someone who didn’t know a thing about his industry, to strike up a friendship that had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

She asks a question of her own. “Do you have any pets?”

Hyunjin brightens at the opportunity to talk about Kkami.

That day, he remembers what it’s like— to be curious, to be known.

It occurs to Hyunjin, quite suddenly, that he won’t be seeing her for a while. 

The thought only comes as his plane is taking off.

He had seen her over the weekend. She sought his honest opinion on drinks she planned to add to her menu. 

At the time, he hadn’t thought of bringing it up. What would he say, anyway? I’m going on a worldwide tour.

Miserable, he fiddles with his phone until Changbin levels him a firm look. 

“There’s in-flight Wi-Fi,” he says. “Do you want me to get the password for you?”

“Yes, please.” 

Once connected to the internet, Hyunjin searches up the café’s socials and finds its number, which is effectively her number. His heart leaps out of his chest.

He stares at the blinking cursor in the KakaoTalk chat. He had never given out his socials to her out of fear she would realize who he was, what type of life he lived. Now, he was considering using his personal number to message her.

It feels like too much. Hyunjin places his phone face down onto his lap. He wasn’t going to text her. He shouldn’t. Right?

In the next two hours, he probably checks and puts down his phone a dozen times. Fed up, Changbin eventually groans, “Just do what you have to do already!”

Hyunjin, red-faced, picks up his phone. Changbin is right. He keys in a quick message to the café’s account and hits send before he can overthink it.

Hi, this is Hyunjin. I usually come on weekday nights. I might be gone for a while; I’m heading abroad for work. I’m just letting you know, so you don’t think I hate your coffee or anything. Stay healthy and don’t work too hard. 

He exhales in relief, only to be startled by a notification mere minutes later.

Hi, Hyunjin, she responds. You’re so funny, but also right. I would have been sad if I thought I lost my favorite customer. Stay safe, okay? Send me photos of nice cafés during your travels!

Another notification pops up. It’s weird to be messaging on the shop’s account. LOL. Here’s my personal number.  

Hyunjin can feel his heart hammering underneath his chest. He’s ecstatic to have her number, sure, and an excuse to message her while he’s away, but he’s mostly flustered by a small phrase in her text. ‘My favorite customer.’

It might be something she says to everyone; Hyunjin doesn’t care. He suppresses a wide smile from a Changbin eyeing him with open curiosity. 

That day, Hyunjin remembers what it feels like to have a crush.

Hyunjin makes good on her offhanded request.

She receives numerous photos of coffee shops and bakeries across the world. Look at this catacomb concept, he says of a café in London. I thought the menu here was good, he notes with a picture from Hanoi.

I want whatever job you have, she texts back after he sends a video of a patisserie in New York. You’re always going to such cool places.

He doesn’t respond for a couple of hours. She worries, briefly, if she had said something wrong. She brushes it off as the timezone difference.

He texts as she’s trying to whip up a new batch of croissants. It’s nice, you’re right, but sometimes I wish I had a job where I could just stay in Korea, he replies. I’ve been to all these places and I think your coffee is still the best. 

She wipes the flour off her hands so she can shoot back, You’re just saying that so you can get free drink next time. 

He sends a GIF of a cartoon cat crying. I mean it, he texts. I miss you. 

She nearly drops her bowl of batter when she sees what he said. Thankfully, he follows up with, LOL, sorry, sent too soon. *I miss your lattes. 

Riiight, she types, then erases.

If you miss me, just say so, she types, then erases.

I miss you, too. 

She erases that and sends instead, LOL. I’ll be sure to perfect it by the time you come back. 

That day, she burns a batch of croissants as she tries to figure out how she feels.

The answer reveals itself to her soon enough.

She’s just about to pack up shop when she hears the front door’s bell. She begins to instinctively apologize about being closed for the night when she sees who the guest is. 

Hyunjin, with two paper bags in his hands. 

“That’s too bad,” he says dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to give these away to someone else, then.”

She laughs; he grins. He places down the bags on a table and asks, “Think you could spare a few minutes for your favorite customer?”

“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “Give me a second.”

She flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’, turns off online deliveries on her phone, and leaves all but one light open.

“I’m only willing to stay overtime for you,” she laughingly tells a Hyunjin who is watching her do her closing routine. “I can make you a drink, though…”

“No need.” He waves her over. “I got you some stuff.”

“You didn’t have to,” she says as she tries to peek into the bags. “When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. I went straight to my parents, though, before coming here.”

“How was all the traveling?”

“Tiring, fun. I’m glad to be home.”

She offers him a gentle smile. “I’m glad you’re back, too,” she says. In the sparse light of the café, it’s hard to tell for sure, but she thinks she sees Hyunjin blush.

He shoves one of the bags forward. “Here are some decorations for the café. They’re nothing fancy, and it’s still up to you whether you want to put them up…”

Hyunjin trails off as she brings out one decoration after the other. She’s overwhelmed. They’re all gorgeous and fitting of her café’s aesthetic.

“Hyunjin,” she says, awed. “I can’t possibly take these.”

But Hyunjin is shaking his head and already gesturing towards the other bag. “This one has a bunch of coffee packets I got from different places. I thought you might like them.” 

The thoughtfulness of it draws a disbelieving laugh out of her. “That’s it. You’re getting free drinks for a month,” she says seriously.

Hyunjin laughs, too. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, it is very necessary. This—” She gestures at all of Hyunjin’s gifts. “Is a really nice thing for you to do. Thank you, Hyunjin. Really.”

The smile on his face makes her pulse race. 

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Anything for my favorite barista.” 

That day, she concedes: She may have romantic feelings for this particular customer. 

It takes Hyunjin a few weeks after that to work up the courage to ask her out. 

When he found out her favorite Disney movie was putting out a sequel, he knew this was a golden opportunity. So, one evening, he asks if she’s free that weekend.

She says yes, because it’s her favorite film, but also— because it’s Hyunjin.

Neither of them refer to it as a date. It goes unspoken, is undeniable in its implication. They are two friends who are obviously attracted to each other. This was supposed to be the first time they meet outside her shop.

Hyunjin chooses a small movie theater and buys the tickets in advance. He texts her the details and she says she’ll be there.

Since immigrating, most of her time has just been going back and forth to her café and her apartment. She took cabs more often than not. She avoided tourist spots and malls, and only ever went out to do groceries or buy supplies.

So, that evening, when she decides to try taking the bus, it is her first time at the stop. She sends a text to Hyunjin saying she’s on her way, looks up from her phone, and sees him. 

Except it’s not him in the flesh. It’s him, on the bus stop’s LED screen. Nearly unrecognizable. 

The Hyunjin she knows wears dark hoodies and unbranded caps. The Hyunjin on the screen is dressed from head to toe in designer. She stares, slack-jawed, as text appears. ‘Hwang Hyunjin: Our Shining Star.’

A student sitting near her claps their hands. “Oh, are you a STAY, too? Is Hyunjin your bias?” they ask. 

She clears her throat. “Yes,” she lies, and the student nods excitedly.

“My bias is Felix,” the teenager raves. “I guess we’re both danceracha fans, ha-ha!”

The student boards the next bus that comes. It’s the same bus that’s supposed to pass by the mall where she has to go, but she stays rooted in her seat.

She finds herself doing inventory on what she knows about Hyunjin. He didn’t like talking about his job, only ever mentioning it in vague terms. It involved a lot of traveling. It was tiring, he said. But fun.

Her phone dings. Hyunjin’s message reads, Getting us popcorn. What flavor do you want? 

She looks at the text, then back up at the LED screen. Could it be a twin, maybe? No, she thinks. They had the same name. 

Instead of answering his question, she replies, Who are you?

Hyunjin responds with a sticker of a whale with several question marks over its head.

What’s a ‘STAY’? Who’s Felix? What’s a ‘danceracha’? Why do you have a poster at the bus stop?, she asks in a succession of texts.

She repeats, Who are you?

In the cinema lobby, Hyunjin feels his blood run cold. He can’t breathe, suddenly. In his excitement to invite her out, he hadn’t accounted for the dozens of birthday banners around the city.

He practically bolts out of the mall. He flags down a taxi that takes him back to his apartment, where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are starting a new Netflix series.

“Hey, Hyune. I thought you’d be back—” Chan falters, then gets to his feet. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin hadn’t realized there were tears streaming down his face until Jisung pauses their show and Changbin rushes to grab a box of tissues.

“I think I messed up,” Hyunjin says, his voice barely above a whisper.

She goes home that night and resists the urge to search him up. She wants to hear it from him, who he is, and why he had been so keen to hide it. 

Hyunjin, meanwhile, fights back sobs as he admits to his friends what had happened. How badly he had wanted to be normal, for once, and how it was now blowing up in his face.

When she falls asleep, she dreams of a darkened movie house— one bucket of popcorn, shy fingers dancing around each other’s touch.

Hyunjin tosses and turns in bed for hours. Her texts glare up at him, unanswered. Who are you, Hyunjin? 

That day, the weather forecast is dreary. The rainy season has come early.

She hardly has time to think of Hyunjin.

The rain brings in more customers. Those seeking shelter from the downpour, those in need of a warm drink.

On Monday, two boys swoop in with ridiculously oversized umbrellas.

“Your blueberry cheesecake looks good,” the smaller of them says. “Can I have a slice and an iced coffee too, please?”

“An iced coffee in this rain?” The taller sniffles dejectedly. “Jisung-ah, that’s impractical.”

Jisung glances at her for support.

“I think iced coffee can be enjoyed in any weather,” she offers. 

Jisung looks pleased. “See, Minho-hyung?”

Minho rolls his eyes but smiles slightly. “I think I’ll stick to my hot coffee. One espresso, please,” he says, and she punches in their orders.

The one named Jisung shoots several looks at her throughout their stay. Minho is mostly indifferent. (Or, rather, more discreet in stealing glances.) They leave a tip in her jar on the way out, and talk about her on the way home.

On Tuesday, a boy wearing a baseball jersey comes up to the counter.  

“Do you make all these yourself?” he asks while looking at the menu.

“I do,” she says. “I came up with most of the recipes, too.”

His eyes shine. “Can I have an iced Americano with syrup for takeout? And—” He pauses, as though deciding on whether he should continue. “Do you mind if I watch you make it?” 

She grins. She enjoyed customers like this. She invites the boy across the counter and walks him through the machinery, the procedure, the ingredients.

“Thank you so much,” he says once it’s all done, when he has his to-go cup in his hand. 

“It’s no problem. If you ever want to learn more about making coffee, my door’s always open.”

He smiles. “Thanks.” Another thoughtful pause. “I’m Seungmin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Seungmin,” she says as she gives her own name. 

On Wednesday, three boys come in at noon.

They all don name tags over their chests.

“Binnie,” she reads out loud. The three boys balk, as though surprised. She smiles sheepishly at their reaction and points at the tags. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to shock you.”

The one with the tag that says ‘Chan’ flashes her a lopsided grin. “We came from an event. Must’ve forgotten to take these off.” 

“No problem. What can I get you guys?”

‘Lix’ scans the display of pastries and asks, “How much for everything?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Pardon me?”

“We’re going to be feeding a lot of people,” Binnie explains. “Will it be an inconvenience if we take all of your food?”

“No, not at all,” she says quickly. “But it should cost around…” She does the numbers, lets them know.

Chan nods. “That’s alright. We’ll have it all for takeout, please.” 

Bewildered, she begins to pack all the food into containers and paper bags. This had never happened to her. She would have to close shop early.

“Please choose three drinks,” she tells them. “I’ll throw them in for free.”

They look surprised. “You don’t have to,” Lix says sheepishly.

“You guys bought out my stock for the day,” she says. “I’m very grateful, and I’d love to make you a drink in exchange.”

After more of her insistence, the three reluctantly pick out their beverages. She sends them off with bags full of pastries, and large coffees for each. 

On Thursday, a familiar boy chats with her about the rain.

As she’s making his order, she tries to place where she saw him. She serves him his coffee and tentatively asks, “Are you Jeongin?”

He draws back a bit and cautiously replies in the affirmative. 

“You came here once,” she’s quick to explain. “It was snowing.”

Jeongin nods. “Right. I’m surprised you remember.”

“You were with Hy—” She falters. “Your friend.” 

He looks almost amused. “Hyunjin,” he finishes, and she nods.

“Hyunjin,” she repeats through the lump in her throat. “Well, excuse me.”

“Sure.”

She ducks back over to the counter and opens her KakaoTalk. Still nothing. She considers messaging him, but decides against it. She wants answers. If Hyunjin can’t give her any, then how can their relationship progress any further?

That day, Jeongin makes a beeline for Hyunjin’s apartment.

The rain is so bad that barely any customers come.

She contemplates closing early when the bell rings, and in comes Hyunjin.

Despite his umbrella, he is drenched from head to toe. He tracks mud into her café and drips rainwater onto her floor. She stares, mouth agape, at the audacity of this man to show up after a weeks’ worth of radio silence. 

She’s about to tell him off when he blurts out, “I’m Hwang Hyunjin.”

“I’m part of a group called Stray Kids. Our fans are called ‘STAY’,” he says. “Felix is my friend, and ‘danceracha’ is the subunit we’re part of. I love dancing. It’s what gives me life.”

He goes on, “I paint. I’m trying to get into photography, too. I like cold coffee, romance films, and you.”

She starts at the sudden confession. “What?”

“I really, really like you,” he says breathlessly. “I want to keep coming to this café. I want to watch a movie with you. But— if we’re going to do that— you need to know who I am.”

“You’re a dancer,” she repeats awkwardly.

“Yes. I sing and rap, too.”

She feels dizzy. “And you like me?”

He’s suddenly nervous, can’t meet her eyes. “Yes,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour beyond them. “I do.”

The rain falls heavily on the roof, and it is the only sound for a few precarious moments, as the two people in the café hang in delicate balance.

She makes a choice, then and there.

“Let me get you a towel,” she says. “And what coffee do you want? Your usual?”

He smiles so wide that the storm outside becomes nearly irrelevant. “Yes, please.”

That day, they sit at his favorite table and make plans.

When she finally, properly meets all of the boys, she reels backwards in abject shock.

Hyunjin places a hand on the small of her back to steady her. The seven boys laugh at her reaction, though not unkindly.

“For the record, we hadn’t planned it,” Jeongin says. He passes her a drink.

Felix— whose tag had said ‘Lix’, then— helps take her coat. “I really liked your scones! Maybe one day we could bake together,” he says cheerfully. 

“Yes, of course,” she stutters. 

“Hey, Felix.” Hyunjin wags a finger in his friend’s face. It’s not threatening at all. “That’s my girlfriend!” 

“I just wanted scones,” Felix says defensively, and more good-natured laughter ripples through the room. 

The attention shifts away from the new couple as the boys begin to lay out food onto the table for Changbin’s birthday celebration. 

Jisung notices her dumbstruck expression and gives her a reassuring smile. “Are you surprised?” he asks.

“A little.” She grins back at Jisung. “You’re the one who likes cheesecake.” 

He laughs at the comment. “And your cheesecake is one of the best! I’m glad you brought it today.” 

Hyunjin interrupts their conversation to steer her towards the kitchen. 

He juts his lower lip out in a pout. “I don’t think bringing you here was a good idea,” he says, half-serious. “I’m worried they’re all madly in love with you.” 

The absurdity of it makes her giggle. “You’re insane.” She stands on her tiptoes and presses a cheek on to her boyfriend’s cheek. “I love you, though.” 

“Damn right,” Hyunjin says. He tries to steal another kiss but she laughs, ducks away. 

“We have to go back to your friends,” she says pointedly as Hyunjin wraps his arms around her waist. 

“Five more minutes,” he whines, and she can’t help herself. She smiles.

“Five more minutes.” 

That day, they are happy. They are known. And it is more than enough.

[missgraylock]

North and South: Beginnings - Prologue and Chapter 1: A Wolf in the Woods

Summary: A fragile peace has settled between North and South of the border. You and your cousin live a quiet life on a secluded farm, attempting to hide both your omega status and your origins. After a faithful meeting everything is about to change, and your past hunts you down. But in your time of need, someone aids you from the shadows.

"North and South: Beginnings" is an omegaverse tale in a medieval setting, where our ensemble will experience plenty of fluff, angst and very steamy moments. Ateez is the main focus here, with Seventeen as their allies. Stray Kids is the enemy, but this is a fictional work that doesn't reflect the real life persons in any way (love you SKZ).

This is my first long fic and English isn't my first language, so bear with me. This work is not proof read. I have a goal to post at least one chapter a week, and it's going to be a long story. Buckle in!

pairing: reader x non-idol! San, reader x most of Ateez for the smut tbh genre: romance, smut, angst, A/B/O, omegaverse, AU chapter: 1 of many, word count is 2361 for this chapter rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for this series: dom! san, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (both receiving) fingering, group sex, breeding kink, pet names (good girl, pretty, etc.), lots of gratuitous smut, violence and blood. divider by: @cafekitsune

Do you prefer to read on AO3? 📖

Masterlist / Next >>

Prologue - The Escape

South of the border, 15 years ago

A mature alpha sits at the end of a long table. His gray, thick hair elegantly swooped back. He has an intense and demanding gaze on the sunken shape further down the table. 

Mr. Min, with his shoulders sloped slightly, struggles to keep his eyes on the intimidating presence. 

“It’s a real shame to see the state of the once great Min clan, but there’s fortunately things that can be done to aid you on your path back to greatness”.

Mr. Min���s eyes widen slightly, though he’s prepared for what’s to come. 

“You have a young granddaughter? Whose mother was an omega?” The alpha states. It’s not really a question.

Mr. Min nods, a pang of sorrow in his chest. “I do, she’s only 6 years old”.

The alpha dons a small smirk. “In an exchange to cover your debts, I want her betrothed to my son, Christopher. They shall marry when they have presented and are at an appropriate age, but she must present as an omega. Naturally.” He says coolly. 

Mr. Min is not surprised by the Bahng clan leader’s demand. The Min clan, once prosperous and known to be a clan of exceptionally beautiful and capable individuals, fell into despair after the clan conflicts between the North and the South. 

As the clan leader, Mr. Min could not handle the loss of several of their pack members during the all out war, which happened through majorly bad luck. It hit him especially hard to lose his only child, Nara. 

He ended up drinking and gambling away most of their fortune, and he was currently finding himself in a very tough spot. He was one of the few remaining in the clan, including his grand niece Leliana and granddaughter [Y/N], who were both in his care.

At this point, all he wanted was security for the girls. No more goons knocking on their door late at night, demanding payments and making threats. If the girls got married into prosperous families, they would at least have stability and food on the table. 

He knew that the Bahng clan was infamous for their brutality, especially towards their omegas, but he tried to push the thought away to the back of his mind. Maybe Christopher would grow up to be kinder than his father and the other alphas in their clan. The chances were slim. 

Mr. Min folded his hands and nodded to Mr. Bahng. “They’re still so young, but if this is what it takes for us to finally have peace, then so it must be”. 

---------

“Are you out of your mind?” Leliana yelled at her grandfather. Mr. Min stood with his back against the wooden door of their humble abode. 

“Leliana, please I-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as a stale loaf of bread flew through the air, barely dodging his face.

“You know how they treat their omegas. They keep them confined and beaten. Forced to have litter after litter”. Tears of rage were streaming down Leliana’s face. She could not accept this life for her younger cousin. 

Mr. Min tried to explain how it would help them all in the long run. How the clan could slowly but surely rise back to greatness. She could tell that he tried to close his eyes to the sacrifice that he had made for what he called “the greater good”. She stormed up the stairs to the little bedroom where [Y/N] was half asleep.

“Leli, I’m having a bad dream”. [Y/N] stretched her arms up to Leliana as she crawled into their narrow bed. “I know pup, it was just me and grandpa disagreeing about something, it’s going to be ok”. [Y/N] sighed and fell shortly back to sleep, but Leliana’s mind was racing. 

She muttered to herself “a blanket, matchsticks, a knife, wool socks and a scarf, what else?”. 

She knew what she had to do at sunrise. 

---------

Chapter 1 - A Wolf in the Woods

Along the border, present day

You’re struck by something inconvenient

You pull the covers underneath your chin, watching your cold breath hit the sunlight creeping through the window. “Can you tell me about true mates again Leli”? 

Your cousin looks at you with a smirk. “Of course, lover girl” she says teasingly. You feel a slight blush in your cheeks. 

Leliana clears her throat. “Sometimes, when an alpha meets an omega, they can sense a bond through each other’s scents that goes even deeper than what regular mates have. It’s the bond of true mates. They will gravitate towards each other like the Moon to the Earth, creating an immensely supportive and loving bond, and a rock solid foundation for a thriving pack”. 

You feel a tingle in your chest. Just the thought of meeting an alpha scared the living daylights out of you, but you couldn’t suppress your curiosity. 

Both your “aunt” and “uncle”, the beta couple that took you and Leliana in during a blizzard 15 years ago, continuously warned you both about the dangers of alphas. Especially seeing as you both had presented as omegas. 

You tried to reassure them that you would never let an alpha near you, but you still felt a sting of longing after the unknown, with only Leliana’s stories to soothe you. In an attempt to stay hidden, you both rarely saw other humans. 

You spent most of your time as milkmaids in the remote mountains on the border, only occasionally running into traveling merchants or vagabonds. 

Your aunt and uncle never had the children they so dearly wished for, and felt blessed the night you two stumbled onto their deck. 

As you both reached your teens and presented, a new anxiety rose for the couple. How could they protect someone as rare and valuable as you were, from the clans that were willing to use violence to catch omegas. 

Omegas were not only exceedingly rare, but both you and your cousin grew up to be stunningly beautiful, a trait that apparently ran in your families. 

To ease their anxieties somewhat, you choose to wear collars that would cover up your mating patches. If, god forbid, any alphas caught your scent and chased  you down, they would have an extra obstacle if they tried to force a mating mark on your necks. 

If you saw someone approaching as you were out herding the goats, you would carefully wrap your shawls to cover more of your faces, making it harder for the strangers to catch the beauty underneath. 

Being an omega felt like so much of a burden. All the fear and the precautions that followed with it were tiresome, and you wondered if you’d ever make peace with it all.

“Enough daydreaming, we need to get to work little one”. Leliana rose from the bed, stretching her hand down to yours. You took it and lifted yourself up with a grunt. 

You covered up in a brown pinafore dress, donning extra thick woollen socks as it was still a lingering winter outside. Leliana boiled water in the kettle over the soothing fire, as you found two cups and tea leaves. 

Your breakfast this morning was a delicious sourdough loaf, goat cheese and jam - all made by your aunt. 

Even though you should be really hungry, you felt rather nauseous this morning. “You ok?” Leliana asked, furring her brows.

“Yeah, I probably just need to get moving and let my body wake up properly”. You used your sleeve to wipe the cold sweat off of your forehead.

After finishing your tea and meal, you wrapped huge scarves around each other's necks, laughing at the inelegance of layers upon layers of winter clothing, constricting you slightly. 

You stepped into the sunny but snow covered yard. It was a beautiful day with clear skies, and the cold mountain air hit your nostrils. You felt the nausea dissipate somewhat. “Good morning girls!”, your aunt waved from outside the barn. “Morning auntie! Where's uncle?” you asked. “He’s taking stock of the firewood inside the barn, this winter has been longer than we anticipated and he’s a bit worried we’ll run out” She grimaced. “I’m sure he’ll sort it out though. Are you heading to the goats?”. You both nodded, and explained that you needed to make sure that they had found running water, as the brooks were still covered in ice. You waved goodbye, and started walking the path to the forest line where the goats would gather. You could hear their bells getting closer, and you started to take stock of the herd. “There’s one missing” Leliana observed, “maybe she’s wandered further up the path?”. You offered to go look for the missing goat, and were relieved that the snow had melted to a point where you didn’t have to struggle in it anymore. A low ridge of stones followed the path, a sign that you were on the exact border between the North and the South. You gulped, your thoughts drifting into the endless stories about the horrors of the last war, where both sides took massive losses. A clan from the South decided to attack clans in the North, in a hunt for more omegas, as their own omega population had dwindled. 

Even though many Southern clans cursed this escalation, they still had to back their own, and a brutal war escalated. Since then, peace has been balanced on a knife's edge, only motivated by avoiding pain in each nation, and a wish to avoid more loss than they already had. The North was still distrusting of the south, and would occasionally send scouts along the border to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.

You heard a timid goat’s bleat ahead of you, and snapped out of your spiraling thoughts. She was just ahead of you on the path, trying to find an opening in the icy brook to drink from. You fell softly to your knees next to her, picking up a rock to smash the ice. 

---------

San’s perspective

San felt another icy drop hit his neck, and he ran a hand through his damp, black hair. He’d walked far from their outpost this morning, as it finally was a clear and crisp day and the sight was exceptional. He made sure to weave along the tree line, staying somewhat hidden between the trees as he peered across the mountainside. 

As a part of the Ateez’ clan’s allegiance with the other Northern clans, they were expected to patrol along the border, just in case the Southern clans were building outposts for military purposes. He’d never seen anything suspicious himself, but he didn’t mind the solitude, a respite away from the constant chaos of his beloved pack. 

As San wandered beneath the bare canopies, admiring how the sunlight filtered down between them, he caught a scent so intense he almost fell to his knees. It smelled like a warm July day, a rose folding itself out in its prime and as sweet as honey. 

His mind raced, it was still March in the mountains, where on earth were these divine scents originating from? That’s when he saw you. 

At first, it was just a bundled up little shape kneeling by the brook, clad in somewhat disheveled garments. As he crouched and slowly walked closer, he could see long, wavy hair peeking out of your woolly, hooded shawl. A wide belt enhancing your feminine figure.

The scent was intensifying as he was closing in on you, and he gripped a tree trunk with both his hands, to keep himself steady. 

Omega, the word echoed in San's mind. He shook his head in disbelief. Had he randomly stumbled over what his pack was so desperately longing for? What he imagined but didn’t let himself hope for every night as he crawled under the covers all alone?

He snapped out of his racing mind as your scent suddenly soured, and he saw you falling to your side, wrapping both of your arms around your stomach. He gasped in shock, but still held himself in place, white knuckling the tree. 

You were writhing on the ground, and he could tell that you were in pain. He felt an intense rush of wanting to run to you, to hold you and scent you, but he knew he had to be careful to not reveal himself along the border. 

Your pull on him was heavy, and he felt his mind fully occupied by both your irresistible scent and his own panic. Then he heard your voice. 

---------

“Leli! Help!” It was all you were able to yell, as the sharp pain kept stabbing you in your abdomen. 

When you had room for thoughts, you were only cursing yourself. It was obvious that you were in heat, and that you had failed to pay attention to the fact that it had been 4 whole months since your last one. 

Light cramps convulsed in your belly, but you found solace in the fact that you were still in pre-heat, and not completely incapacitated yet. “I’m coming!” You heard Leliana in the distance, trying to focus on keeping your breathing steady. 

You felt a sudden prickling on your neck. A voice in the back of your mind. You quickly looked around but it was hard to focus. You wrote it off to the intensity of your pre-heat kicking in. 

“Aw shit, it’s your heat already?” Leliana looked at you with a sympathetic gaze, and reached for your arm. You stood up, gathering the goatling in your arms, leaning on Leliana for support. 

“Let’s get this one back to the herd, and then get the hell back home before this gets any worse”. 

It was a relief to be back in the safety of the cabin and your bed, while your temperature fluctuated from hot to cold under the covers. You sipped on a special brew that Leliana cooked up from last summer’s dried herbs, easing your symptoms. 

As you felt your eyelids get heavy, you couldn’t help but recall the shivers that went down your spine by the brook. Something calling for you. 

---------

Any feedback is much appreciated for this newbie. <3 Comment if you want to be on a taglist!

Masterlist / Next >>

[dwaekkistar]

The Appointment

Summary: Sujin gets a little shaken up at a doctor's appointment

Additional Tags/ Warnings: Mentions of memories with SA, OC having a panic attack

          Felix, Hyunjin, and Sujin make it back home via a taxi, as they don't want to bother Chan to come back to the mall and pick them up. They all removed their shoes at the front door, The blonde alpha causing the omega to burst into soft giggles as he constantly threw out jokes, and the taller alpha held Sujin from behind while holding some of the shopping bags. They continued their shenanigans well into the living, gaining the attention of everyone already home.

        "You guys seem to have had fun," Minho softly interjected as his arms wrapped around Jisung sitting beside him.

        "Sorry, we were teasing Sujin about something he did at the mall." Felix chuckled a bit.

        "Yeah, who knew Sujin would get so messy trying to eat a corn dog!" Hyun-jin chimed in happily. " He had mustard everywhere!"

         "Stop," the omega whined with soft giggles as he softly squirmed trying to get out of the alpha's hold, "this is embarrassing!" But Hyunjin seemed to hold onto the omega even tighter, causing Sujin to blush deeply. The omega honestly couldn't place why he was so giddy and shy but he had to assume it was the doing of the pet names both long-haired alphas kept doting on him while at the food court.

       Jeongin who was on the living room floor happened to look up, only to take note of the choker now wrapped around Sujin's neck.

        "That looks pretty on him," the younger beta said rather quickly while pointing, Chan and Changbin came into the room a few seconds later, following the direction of his hand.

         "That does look pretty on him..." Changbin mumbled softly.

         "Did you guys get that at the mall?" Chan asked curiously, his eyes squinting slightly to get a better look as he got closer. He stood in front of Sujin and softly cupped the pendant of the choker with one hand. "This fits him if we are being honest, yeah? " He then shot the omega a smile.

            Hyunjin finally released the omega deciding that maybe the younger had enough of his hold. "I'm gonna head upstairs and put these shopping bags in Sujin's room and then go paint if you need me."

          While mostly everyone was telling Hyunjin they would see him later, Chan and Changbin quietly led the omega to Changbin's bedroom. They both carefully sat on the ground, Changbin softly patting the empty spot next to him for Sujin. He carefully sat next to the muscular alpha, a look of confusion building up on his face.

           "Is there something wrong?" the omega asked anxiously, he was unsure why they'd need to bring him here. He hoped he hadn't done anything to upset them on his second day here. That would be a new record for him.

             "No nothing's wrong... we just wanted to talk to you about some things... and update you," Chan replied softly as he moved closer to the younger, encasing Sujin between him and the other alpha in the room. "Uhm We both talked with Seungmin... again... and we sorted some things out so he shouldn't be bothering you."

            "We also set up a doctor's appointment for you...just in case you do decide you want to be a part of our pack when the year is up," the alpha tilted his head with a concerned look, "Is that okay with you?" Sujin slowly nodded his head in response, after the day he had with Hyunjin he was sure he wouldn't be leaving the pack any time soon. The two long-haired alphas had made him quite happy and it was the most fun he had in a long time. The two alpha's engulfed him in a huge hug, that left the omega giggling as he tried to squirm his way out.

          "Oh no you don't" Chan chuckled softly, " you're stuck with us!" The alpha then began to tickle Sujin as Changbin held him down causing the omega to yelp as he began to laugh immediately.

          "WAIT... No, let me go, please!" He whimpered in between his laughs as he squirmed out of their hold. They went on like that for a few more minutes until Changbin decided they should call it quits seeing how red the omega had turned. Sujin quickly squirmed out of their hold and ran to his room wanting to unpack his shopping bags. But when the omega got to his room he was surprised to see that the shopping bags had been unpacked now that he was looking at the now beyond-full closet and dresser. He pulled out his new phone and was also surprised to see there was a text from Hyunjin.

Hyunjinnie: I put away your things for you so that you didn't have to. ♥︎

Sujin: thanks Jinnie ♥︎

            The omega then set his phone down on his nightstand, picked out some random combination of pjs he bought, and headed to the bathroom. He took a quick warm shower and headed to bed as the day was finally taking its toll on him, the exhaustion finally setting in. He quickly climbed into bed, sleep starting to take over.

          The next three weeks went by in a blur, as Sujin spent most of that time bonding with the pack, albeit Seungmin seemed to be keeping his distance. The omega didn't mind as long as it meant he wouldn't have hurtful things hurled his way. But it did kind of hurt that the beta didn't want to positively interact with him. He couldn't help it that he was sensitive, it was ingrained in his personality at this point. He had fun these last few weeks but it was now the day of his appointment, and little did he know that the pack leader and 3rd oldest themselves were planning to use it to find out a little more about the omega.

         The omega groggily woke up and dismissed the alarm he had set the night prior. He slipped into some basic sweats and put on the black and white pair of sneakers Hyunjin and Felix got him. He learned that the rest of the pack seemed to like those sneakers as they wore them a lot as well. He headed downstairs because he knew he wasn't allowed to eat before the appointment, but he also needed to stay hydrated because he was sure they would want a pee sample. He quickly went to the kitchen fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He swiftly opened the bottle and took a decent sip of the water sitting on the couch as he waited for the others to come downstairs. He pulled his phone carefully out of his pocket, scrolling through random apps to occupy himself until he finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. When he looked up he was surprised that not only had the two muscular alphas made their way downstairs but Seungmin was following them.

         "Why's he coming?" Sujin spoke genuinely confused, and at most a bit anxious. He kinda feared that if Seungmin tagged along the beta would say something that would make him feel even more conscious about his body than he already did. The last thing the omega needed was to spend his time crying after a doctor's appointment because someone decided to berate him and his body.

        "Uh, he has something he needs to do, and the place is near the doctor's office," Chan said as he anxiously rubbed at the nape of his neck hoping the omega wouldn't call his bluff, " I figured I would just let him tag along so that he doesn't have to take transportation alone."

         "Oh okay..." the younger said quietly as he stared down at his water bottle. While everyone started making their way out of the house Sujin downed the rest of his water bottle and threw it out. He quickly headed to the garage where everyone was waiting for him in the car. He shyly got into the car and wrapped his arms around himself after buckling his seatbelt. He stared at something off somewhere outside the window, not wanting to put his attention on the fact that he was in the same space as Seungmin, little did he know the beta was sneaking glances at him. Seungmin couldn't help it but the guilt from his past behavior and having to avoid interactions with the omega was killing him. What would happen if the lab tests came back and he was indeed an omega... and a luna at that? Seungmin was sure he'd never be able to forgive himself for it, despite having his reasons for acting the way he did.

         They eventually reached the doctor's office and quickly signed in as they had to fill out the paperwork with info about the omega. They take about half an hour filling out all the paperwork with the known info the alphas and omega had on themselves. When they finished up, Chan quickly shuffled his way over to the secretary and handed her the stack of papers. He made his way back to his pack members and Sujin and swiftly pulled out his phone as they waited for the omega's name to be called. Meanwhile, the omega was shyly staring at the ground in the waiting room. He felt extremely nervous and unsure of what was to come, and it honestly didn't help having the cold beta next to him. He quietly fidgeted with his fingers, when Changbin carefully stretched his hand out toward him intertwining their fingers before giving it a gentle squeeze as he released just enough calming pheromones to put the omega and beta's nerves at bay. Not only was Sujin anxious, but the beta was too because this appointment would force him to take so much accountability for what he put Sujin through since meeting him.

         Another 10 minutes went by and Sujin was eventually called in with Chan following behind him. They sat in the little room waiting for the doctor to show up. The entire time they stayed, Chan wasn't letting up on the calming pheromones, he didn't want to stop for fear that the omega's anxiety would spike at any moment. The doctor finally came in, running his normal check-up routine and collecting blood samples for lab testing, he would give the alpha and omega results by the end of the visit. By the end of the check-up, he deemed Sujin perfectly healthy and could deem that the omega was indeed a luna based on the lab testing that was done, but he had one minor feedback he wanted to give.

        "It seems like Sujin is not going into subspace as frequently as he should..." the doctor started as his voice was laced with concern, "is there anything you know that would be causing that or anything that could potentially be causing him to not feel safe enough to enter it ?"

         Chan tilted his head trying to process the question before looking over at Sujin, in case the omega wanted to answer for himself. But Sujin just looked back up at Chan, nervously biting his lip, now that the alpha wasn't focusing on releasing calming pheromones.

        "I mean he's just recently moved in with us.." Chan spoke as he kept an eye on Sujin hoping the omega wouldn't slip into a state of panic, " so I would assume it had something to do with the previous pack that he was with..."Chan quietly thought to himself as he continued. "either way I think we can fix that issue with the minor concern of his age regressing.." the alpha added.

      "Oh? he experiences age regression?" the doctor asked curiously wanting to understand how drastic the condition seemed to be for Sujin.

      "Yes... b-but it's rare.." the omega finally spoke up with a nervous stutter, "It only happens when I feel extremely angry, sad, hurt, or on the verge of a panic attack which isn't frequent.."

       "Do you know why it started?" the doctor asked a bit more quietly, almost as if he didn't want anyone outside of the room to hear. The doctor had enough medical knowledge to know that sometimes things like this occur when the person experiences some form of trauma no matter the level of extremity.

        "uhm..." The omega started off looking at Bang Chan before looking back at the doctor with a deep pit of anxiety settling in the bottom of his stomach, " It s-started after... my u-uncle s-sexually.. assaulted me at 15... I usually regress to a period before it happened... with minor behavior traits from a younger age, I can't help it..." As he finished his sentence the anxiety settling within the omega began to consume as he became overwhelmed with thoughts. Does Chan think he's broken? Would they still want him part of the pack knowing he's not pure? He remembers his Dam and Sire telling him no one would want a tainted omega upon finding out his uncle had touched him, they didn't care because they didn't want anything to do with him specifically. But they for sure protected all their other children from the uncle going forward, and that left a stinging pain in Sujin's heart to see that he wasn't important enough to be protected. Maybe The Bang pack would deem him not important enough to protect and therefore not worth being in the pack. The omega was so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't realized his scent was souring drastically, his strawberry and honey aroma becoming very rotten as he slipped into a panic attack.

       The doctor and Chan quickly realized the omega was at the beginning of a panic attack so the alpha worked quickly to push his calming pheromones out as he carefully wrapped his arms around the younger hoping it would calm him down. Sujin began to cry as he roughly gripped his thighs trying to ground himself. He felt like utter shit knowing how much worry he was causing as he was engulfed in a mixture of both the calming pheromones of the alpha and worry laced in the latter scent but he couldn't help it. It was as if trauma after trauma kept resurfacing from this chest locked away in his subconscious, all because he decided to bring up this one unspoken memory for the sake of his health. His inner omega, albeit a faint bond due to him never having a healthy pack life, couldn't tell which part of Chan's scent he needed to hone in on, and that quite literally only frustrated Sujin even more. He took a deep breath before deciding the logical thing would be that he needed to focus on the part of the scent that would help all his anxiety and mental torment go away, he couldn't finish the appointment if he couldn't get through a panic attack... That would only make things worse.

     He took a deep breath, focusing on taking in the pheromones of Chan's meant to calm him. He took another one as his heartbeat returned to its normal pace, tears slowly drifting down his face as he silently sat there.  Once Sujin's scent returned to normal, Chan gently released the omega and rested his hand on the latter's shoulder.

    "I'm sorry about that... " The doctor anxiously interjected as he continued to stand in front of the two, "Had I known that was a triggering topic for you I would have just referred you to a therapist for this portion of the appointment ahead of time.." The doctor had honestly looked quite concerned in Sujin's eyes, making him feel a huge pang of guilt. It's not like he could control his reaction to such memories, especially when he hadn't healed from them either.

      The doctor then looked toward Chan and let the alpha know he would be putting a referral in the system for the omega to get some kind of therapy before dismissing them.

       Sujin shakily got up, heading towards the door as Chan followed suit, sending a quick text message to a group with the entire pack minus sujin, confirming that the omega was indeed a Luna. That text seemed only to send the pack into chaos as Chan could now hear all of them mentally talking amongst each other. It left them confused as they wondered why Sujin's old pack would just "throw away" such a powerful omega. What key information were they missing? Why would his parents neglect him to the point that he hadn't experienced a sub-drop? And why hadn't they protected him from his uncle? What other abuse did he experience at the hands of his family pack?   It hurt Chan a little to think about as he delved deeper into the whys and hows, and he vowed that he would eventually find out and help the omega. He hoped that by helping the omega to love himself, and become more in tune with his inner wolf, he would eventually choose to stay with the pack permanently. Chan couldn't understand why at the moment, but his wolf felt a strong pull towards the younger, and he was beginning to become very fond of the latter.

      They finally regrouped with Changbin and Seungmin, guilt lacing the beta's face as he regretted doubting the omega's sub-gender for far too long. The beta sneaked a look at the omega and could easily see something had the latter shaken, but he didn't know how to begin comforting the omega let alone approach him after all he put the omega through. Seungmin knew it would take months and a miracle for the omega to trust him ever again. 

Taglist: @missrandomheart @galaxycatdrawz @hydrawaterdragon

[skz-fanfic-recs]

moonglow by mrehk

you might recognize this author as the writer of bury me at makeout creek! this fic finished just yesterday :)

45,000 words and 6 chapters

tags: hwang hyunjin/yang jeongin | i.n #hwang hyunjin #yang jeongin | i.n #stray kids ensemble #alternate universe - non-famous #runaway bride hwang hyunjin #honeymoon #vacation #emotional baggage #introspection #pov alternating #ex-fiancé’s brother yang jeongin #pining #self-acceptance #past abusive relationship #family drama #kissing #eventual smut #explicit sexual content #breeding kink #angst #angst with a happy ending #falling in love #healing #happy ending

“please, jeongin. just drive,” hyunjin begs. pleads. his jaw aches from how hard his teeth are clenched. from the corner of his eye he watches jeongin’s hand start the ignition, shaking as he shifts the car into gear.

“put your seatbelt on,” jeongin murmurs. he clears his throat when it takes a second for hyunjin to react. then, louder, “i’ll go when you put on your seatbelt.”

hyunjin scrambles to do as he’s told, fixing his gaze forward again as soon as humanly possible. his white linen jumpsuit feels heavy against his legs, the halter tied behind his neck pulling uncomfortably. the engine revs, and jeongin peels out of the lot.

the first tears fall when they round the corner, leaving the church in the rear view.

(or: hyunjin flees his wedding with his fiancé’s brother; jeongin is secretly in love with his brother’s fiancé.)

[skz-streamer]

2023 VMA's

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

<- EVENTS TAB

Pairing: ot8 (skz) x fem!reader (9th member)

Genre: Fluff?, Crack? Idol Au

Warnings: suggestive kinda, a small mention of nudity with some outfits.

Notes: When I was watching the VMA's I KNEW I AHD TO DO SOMETHING. sooo here it is :) I realized I forgot to add their interview in here but whatever, also thing is literally all based off of Bongos because of their reactions to that performance LORDDD FUNNY AS HELL. so yea... im also insanely obsessed with them...

Summary: 2023 VMA's turned out to be a little funnier then you thought they would be.

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately face claims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~1.8k ;)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the van pulled up to the annual 2023 VMA's, the excitement among you and your fellow members of Stray Kids was palpable. This was a momentous occasion, the first time the group had the privilege of attending the prestigious awards show. The energy in the vehicle was infectious, a mix of nervous anticipation and uncontainable joy.

Inside the van, you couldn't help but admire the transformation of your fellow members. They were all dressed to the nines, their stylish suits and glamorous ensembles adding to the aura of excitement that filled the air. Hyunjin, in particular, had undergone a striking change for the occasion. He sported a fresh undercut, a hairstyle he had been yearning to try for a long time. The change suited him perfectly, adding to his already striking appearance.

As the only female member of Stray Kids, you knew that all eyes would be on you, so you had taken extra care with your outfit. You were dressed in a stunning Lapel blazer top button slit skirt set, which you had carefully chosen for the occasion. The top was a sleek black with slightly puffed-out shoulders, a V-neck with a stylish collar, and two buttons at the bottom. It exuded confidence and sophistication. The skirt, on the other hand, was a bit more daring. It hugged your body tightly, emphasizing your curves. It featured a daring slit that ran from the middle of your thigh down to your ankles.

Your choice of outfit had raised some eyebrows, with both the stylists and some of the boys expressing concern that it might be showing too much skin. However, you were quick to defend your choice, reminding them that VMA fashion was all about pushing boundaries and making bold statements. Growing up in the United States, you had been a dedicated fan of the VMA's for as long as you could remember. You had spent years watching the show, voting online, and dreaming of the day when you would be a part of it. Now, that dream had become a reality, and you were determined to make a memorable entrance.

As the van rolled towards the VMA venue, the nervous tension among you and the boys was prominent. Small talk filled the air, a feeble attempt to ease the apprehension that gripped each of you. It was clear that this was a significant moment, one filled with both excitement and trepidation.

You could sense the jitters in the van, a stark contrast to the exuberance that had filled it earlier. The boys were fidgeting, adjusting their suits, and stealing glances at each other. You, too, had thought that stepping onto the pink carpet would dissolve your nervousness, but as the van pulled up and the doors swung open, you were greeted by a frenzy of flashing cameras and enthusiastic shouts.

Cameras flashed from every direction, capturing your every move. The carpet was a vibrant sea of celebrities, some of whom you had admired for years. Your heart raced as you recognized familiar faces, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of fangirling yourself. The sheer star power in the vicinity was overwhelming.

As you walked through the barricades and onto the pink carpet, you were swiftly directed to your designated spot, and the command to smile was given. Your outfit, though daring, suddenly seemed rather modest compared to some of the ensembles on display. Megan's netted, see-through dress and Cardi's low-cut attire were enough to make anyone do a double-take. The boys' jaws nearly hit the ground, especially when Jeongin accidentally bumped into Doja Cat, who was rocking an absolute see-through dress.

Jeongin stammered an apology, and Doja Cat simply smiled and continued on her way. The boys' expressions were priceless, a mixture of shock, amazement, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. You couldn't help but at their shared amused look, one that communicated, "Did you see her outfit?!"

You didn't need words to convey your thoughts; you your raised eyebrow and rolled your eyes, the boys interpreting it as an “I told you so virgins”, one of your most used lines. The boys understood, and though they didn't say it out loud, their sheepish grins and laughter betrayed their astonishment. Clearly, they were not entirely prepared for the bold fashion choices that often graced the VMA pink carpet.

As you made your way inside the building and found your seats, you realized that you weren't in the front row, but you were still pretty close to the stage. The excitement continued to build within you as you looked around at the familiar faces in the audience. Growing up watching these artists and admiring their work, you couldn't wait for the performances to begin. The nerves from earlier had started to fade, replaced by a sense of anticipation and wonder.

The atmosphere inside the VMA venue was electric as you and the boys chatted excitedly before the performances began. You took the opportunity to introduce some of the artists to them, explaining their music and significance. While most of the artists were already familiar to the boys, you could tell they were particularly excited about Demi Lovato's performance. It wasn't a surprise, given that you had caught them listening to their music in the practice room on multiple occasions, either vibing or dancing.

You, on the other hand, were eagerly anticipating the performances by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. Their recent collaboration on the song "Bongos" had become one of your favorites, and you couldn't wait to see if they would perform it live. You had a feeling it would be a showstopper.

The show began with NLE Choppa and Nelly, delivering a bold and energetic opening performance. The boys were starting to get into the groove of the VMA's, and you couldn't help but chuckle at some of their flustered moments during the performance, especially when there was some intense "ass-shaking" involved. It was undoubtedly a cultural difference they were experiencing.

As the night continued, you watched Olivia Rodrigo's performance, knowing that Felix was a fan of hers. You couldn't help but notice the reactions of your members to her high notes, particularly Han's expression of awe.

Then came the moment you had been waiting for—Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion's performance of "Bongos." You knew that the boys were in for a surprise, especially with the explicit lyrics and slang used by the two artists. You were sitting next to Changbin, who seemed engrossed, a smirk playing on his lips. You were equally captivated by the performance, and you and Han matched each other's energy as you sang along to the lyrics. You were well-versed in the song, so you had no qualms about singing the explicit parts.

The boys' reactions were priceless. Felix and Chan, who were fluent in English, appeared somewhat surprised by the lyrics, but they couldn't look away from the mesmerizing performance. Jeongin's mouth hung open, and Hyunjin and Changbin were engrossed in a hushed conversation, probably trying to decipher some of the slang. It got so loud that toward the end, both Changbin and Hyunjin turned to face the wall, clearly flustered.

You couldn't resist teasing them, tapping their shoulders and playfully saying, "You don't gotta look away; their sexiness is part of the whole performance. It's the whole point." Your giggle and their embarrassed reactions were amusing.

Seungmin and Minho, although harder to see from your vantage point, likely had similar reactions. The whole scene was a mix of awe and embarrassment, and you couldn't help but laugh heartily at their expense.

The performance concluded with everyone turning back, their faces flushed red. You continued to chuckle and pat them on the shoulders, thoroughly entertained by their reactions. Han was right there with you, and the two of you had a blast throughout the entire performance.

When Demi Lovato took the stage, the boys went wild, fanboying over their incredible talent. It was a joy to witness their enthusiasm.

Later in the evening, awards were announced, and you and the boys engaged in random conversations. Your ears perked up when they discussed K-pop awards, and you paid close attention. You knew that TXT was also nominated and set to perform, so there was an element of nervousness in the air.

Then came the moment you least expected—they announced Stray Kids as the winners! It was your group! The shock initially left you in a daze, and you stumbled slightly on your way to the stage, but Changbin caught you, saving you from a potentially embarrassing fall.

Walking onto the stage with your fellow members, your mind felt fuzzy. Was this real? Chan and Felix took a few words, expressing gratitude and excitement. You chipped in with your thanks here and there, the elation clear in your voice.

----- Backstage

The anticipation backstage was palpable as your performance was up next. You couldn't contain your excitement, even though you had initially pitched a mashup of songs that you believed would be iconic. You had suggested blending "Hall of Fame," "S-Class," and "Super Bowl" into a medley, envisioning a performance that would leave a lasting impression. The combination of "Hall of Fame's" grandeur, the seductive whispers of "Super Bowl," and the catchy vibes of "S-Class" seemed like a recipe for an unforgettable show. However, it seemed that your idea had been outvoted, and the group settled on a remix instead.

Nonetheless, you were determined to give it your all. Backstage, you and your fellow Stray Kids members exchanged reassuring glances, a silent reminder that you were a team and that you had prepared for this moment together.

As you stepped onto the stage, the spotlight illuminated you, and the nerves threatened to shake you. Your heart pounded, but you focused on the task at hand. You were dressed in a short top with gold buttons, paired with shorts, and an undershirt with a yellow print that matched Han's outfit. The stage lights were blinding, but you pushed through the nerves.

The music started, and you gave it your all. Singing loudly and pouring all your energy into your dance moves, you felt the adrenaline rush through your veins. The crowd's cheers and screams were deafening, and that only fueled your determination. The energy in the venue was incredible, and it was a testament to the love and support of your fans.

As the performance reached its climax, you executed the choreography flawlessly, ending with a dramatic head tilt before turning your back to the audience. You were out of breath but exhilarated. It was a performance to remember, and the applause and cheers from the audience were music to your ears.

You resisted the urge to turn around and gauge the audience's reactions. Instead, you noticed Seungmin doing the same. Smiles exchanged between the two of you, a shared moment of pride and satisfaction. You both walked off the stage with the rest of the boys, following the well-rehearsed exit routine.

Despite the exhaustion, you felt a sense of accomplishment and euphoria. The performance had been tiring, but it had been worth it. The rush of being on stage, sharing your music with the world, and feeling the love from your fans was an experience like no other. You couldn't help but love every moment of it. The car ride home was gonna be fun.

-----------------------------

Taglist: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-lee08 @sungiesoonie @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @staygirl86 @chlodavids

If you wanna be added click here :)

[straykidsmedia]

Being Stray Kids Takes a Lot of Work — and Close Friendships

As they tour U.S. stadiums this summer, the eight-member K-pop superstars talk about what goes into their intense live concerts, their inventive music, and more

“Do you want us to be warm and caring, or do you want us to be toxic?” That is the question that Bang Chan, the leader of the eight-man group Stray Kids, asks with a straight face, as his bandmates crack up at his cheekiness. (More on that question later.)

Three hours before Stray Kids took the stage at San Francisco’s Oracle Park on May 28, the Korean superstars sat down for an exclusive interview with Rolling Stone over Zoom. They could’ve talked about all their accomplishments, which include being the first act to debut at Number One with their first six charting albums on the Billboard 200 (their latest, Hop, came out last winter). Or how their 2024 release Ate sold more physical CDs in the U.S. than any album except for Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department, according to Luminate. Then, too, SKZ — as they are also known — have the distinction of being the first male K-pop group to perform a sold-out concert at the 42,300-capacity Oracle Park, as part of their ongoing dominATE World Tour. 

But, no. Give these young men a compliment and they will downplay their remarkable achievements. When I mention that they’re breaking records right and left, Bang Chan shyly says, “Not really.” Laughing, he adds, “But go ahead!”

For this chat, the band is seated in two rows of four, with Felix, Bang Chan, I.N, and Seungmin in the front, and Lee Know, HAN, Changbin, and Hyunjin behind them. They are all dressed casually in black and grey ensembles, except for Felix, who sports a light-blue hoodie.

Bang Chan and Felix, who grew up in Australia, conduct this interview in English, while the other members speak in Korean. They are professional, politely introducing themselves so that the transcriber can later distinguish their voices. But these eight friends also share a warm, unbreakable bond that comes through even over a video interview. The members in the front take turns twisting their bodies so that their bandmates in the back can be better seen.

Now seven years into their career, Stray Kids have reached the upper echelon of the pop music world, selling out stadiums worldwide. But playing to massive crowds hasn’t changed how they perform for their audience. They are one of the most physical K-pop groups in concert. Stray Kids have always fiercely attacked whatever stage they play on, and have never needed to be told to show more energy – something even the Beatles heard during their baby-band days playing in Hamburg clubs. 

“Of course we recognize the difference in the crowds we’re playing to now, but our mindset of how we approach the concert has not changed from our debut,” Seungmin says. “We’re grateful that we are still doing shows and people come to see us, and we’re proud to have come this far.”

Felix adds, “We can see the crowd, no matter how big or small, from the stage. We see the diversity of our fans.” 

Sometimes, that crowd includes family members like Bang Chan’s younger sister, the indie artist Hannah Bahng. To the delight of the packed audience at Inglewood’s SoFi Stadium earlier this week, Hannah and a friend, singer-songwriter D4VD, were shown dancing to her brother’s music on the huge video display monitor. In a deja vu moment from previous concerts where the siblings interacted, Bang Chan shouted to his sister, “What are you doing, Hannah?!” which the crowd ate up. At this point, Bang Chan’s exclamation has become a meme that fans anticipate whenever Hannah is in attendance at a Stray Kids show. 

All ribbing aside, the brother and sister get along famously. In an interview with Rolling Stone earlier this year, Hannah said, “I’ve always supported my brother with his career, and I’m so proud of everything he’s accomplished. So it means the world that he’s so encouraging of the path I’ve chosen.”

Stray Kids are well known for the meticulous, hands-on approach they take to shaping their versatile sound. Bang Chan, Changbin, and HAN make up the in-house production team, 3RACHA, and write and produce most of the band’s songs, tailoring them to each member’s strength. Their songs veer from bass-heavy pop, to hip-hop swagger, to wistful ballads that can break your heart in just one verse.

“I feel our music has its own genre,” Bang Chan says. “I don’t know if it suits a certain chart or anything. It’s music we make to fit our own standards. We’re just doing what we enjoy and what we think is fun to do. But we feel that our music is actually defined by the listeners. So I don’t think we have the right to really say what our music is. [Our fandom] STAY does.”

Bang Chan adds that despite being successful early in their career, Stray Kids don’t consider themselves at the top of their game yet. “We still need to rise nine more steps to get to 10,” he says. “But that’s the thing. Each and every one of our members, we all share the same goal…. The fact that we are running towards something all together, that itself is like a goal that should be a standard.”

Without missing a beat, Changbin says in Korean, “I want to go to the Grammys,” which draws hoots and hollers. HAN stands up and pretends to chastise him, because Changbin’s statement can be interpreted as saying he’d like to win a Grammy. Thinking it over, Bang Chan smiles and simply says, “That’s a really big goal.”

It’s at this point that I ask them to share something about each other. And Bang Chan responds with the aforementioned question: “Do you want us to be warm and caring, or do you want us to be toxic?” 

Felix says, “I will start off nicely,” and proceeds to describe Bang Chan.

As Bang Chan covers his ears, pretend-shaking, Felix continues, “I really appreciate not only [him] taking care of all of us, but that he does this even at times when we have so much work to do. He always tries to be very positive. Even when one person feels a little bit exhausted, even though he’s tired himself, he takes care of it. That is a huge thing that not many people can do. He’s a very down-to-earth person.”

As Felix offers this complimentary affirmation, HAN jokingly gives a thumbs down, much to Changbin’s delight. When Bang Chan turns around to see why they’re cracking up, HAN grins and switches to an apologetic thumbs up.

Unafraid of how his bandmates might describe him, I.N requests, “Do me [next]!”

“I.N’s my roommate, and he’s the youngest in the team,” Bang Chan says. “But sometimes he feels like the oldest. In many ways, he is the most responsible and he takes care of his big brothers.”

I.N flexes his arms in appreciation and smiles, knowing that of course Bang Chan would compliment him. Next, I.N talks about Seungmin: “Personally, I think he has a voice that has a romantic charm. When you hear his voice, you understand what I mean. He takes great care of the members and I really respect him.”

While Hyunjin and HAN discreetly whisper, Seungmin looks over at Hyunjin and says, “Hyunjin is very passionate and responsible with his work, and I learn a lot from him. Even though we are the same age, I depend on him a lot.” 

When it’s Hyunjin’s turn to say something about Changbin, the latter cutely flashes peace signs with both hands, to encourage a positive assessment. It works.

“I’ll only say nice things,” Hyunjin promises. “Changbin is the center of gravity, the core of Stray Kids. He has someone older and younger on the team, and he acts as a mediator in many ways. He’s kind and does his work really well. And he always monitors the rest of us to make sure we’re OK.”

Looking over at HAN, Changbin says, “He’s my junior and my friend. He’s like the jokester and he brightens the mood of the team. He has so much charm.”

Smiling his thanks to Changbin, HAN begins to describe Lee Know. “He is very handsome. And even though he may not look like it, he’s very sensitive and meticulous. And he listens to me and only me.” Ignoring Lee Know’s burst of laughter, HAN continues, “I can get lonely being away from home, and he takes very good care of me. After a concert, we spend quality time together. We all do, actually, and we share delicious food together.”

Of Felix, Lee Know says, “Everyone knows that Felix has a kind heart. He’s also the masseur of Stray Kids. Whenever we’re in pain, he comes running to massage us.”

All the members take this opportunity to cheer for Felix. (The group’s management, JYP Entertainment, recently released a statement saying that because Felix didn’t want to skip this tour, he may be modifying some of his strenuous dance moves to prevent back strain.) 

“We’re always performing, and it takes a lot of energy,” Felix says. “It takes a lot of effort to maintain our health and condition. Everyone here all works out, and we take care of our bodies with what we eat and how we work out…. We have to be strong because our concerts are physically demanding. We don’t want to disappoint.”

Their intense live shows are three-hour marathons of music, dancing, and laughter. “There are a lot of people who are counting on us,” Bang Chan says. “We’re running around, we’re jumping up and down, it’s sometimes slippery so we can fall. We can always get hurt. Everyone has their own pace, but, yeah, for sure it’s not easy. But luckily we are still very healthy.”

The cerebral and emotional aspect of being a Stray Kid means the members are also constantly pushing themselves to better their craft. Working with other artists is one way they expand their sound, but the group is picky about who they invite into their fold. In 2024, they recorded a pair of standout tracks that featured pop singer Charlie Puth and Epik High rapper Tablo on “Lose My Breath” and “U,” respectively.

When they reached out to Tablo to collaborate with them, the hip-hop star said it was a no-brainer for him.

“My only rule when choosing who to work with — they must genuinely love what they do and the people they do it for,” Tablo tells Rolling Stone via email. “As much as this sounds obvious, it is actually rare, increasingly so in a music industry that has become more data science than art. I loved working with Stray Kids because they were so tangibly genuine, in their attitude towards music — we went through multiple other songs before landing on ‘U’ — in their on-stage presence, and in their personal interactions with me.”

In Korean, there’s a word called jeong (정) that has no English equivalent. It’s a feeling of closeness that stems not necessarily from proximity, but from shared values and an emotional bond. It’s a feeling that’s experienced by a mother and her child. But this tender connection can also manifest when two random Koreans run into each other in a foreign country. Or, in the case of Stray Kids and their STAY, when eight Korean artists share three hours with a multitude of devoted fans in a packed stadium. 

As this interview winds down, we talk about what they like to do in their free time. And the conversation circles back to their music. “We’ve always been busy working together on new things, even before our debut,” Bang Chan says. “Yesterday, we worked on a project at the hotel room as well. Because we’ve been together for so long, we understand each other. We understand what Stray Kids music is supposed to be.”

Lee Know adds, “We talk to each other all the time and discuss our music, especially before a comeback…”

“…So it’s not just 3RACHA making a song and that’s what gets put out,” Bang Chan continues. “It’s more of a democracy. People vote on it and actually grade it and give their feedback. We’re a group, so that’s how we work. Together.”

Source: Rolling Stone

[dungbeatposse]

ok so i had my playlist on shuffle, and cheese by stray kids came on, so i was like “wow! this song is something crazy:b would have”. then, here we are!!!

also, it’s probably not as accurate as i think… but it’s all just for fun anyways! feel free to add your opinions too 😚😚!!!

ensemble stars!! units x stray kids songs

STARMAKER PRODUCTION

- fine: ‘Respirator’ (Han, Seungmin)

- Trickstar: ‘Levanter’ / ‘TMT’

- RYUSEITAI: ‘Saiyan’

- ALKALOID: ‘Night’ (Tower of God 2 OST)

COSMIC PRODUCTION

- Eden: ‘Pacemaker’

- 2wink: ‘PARTY’S NOT OVER’

- Valkyrie ‘Chronosaurus’

- Crazy:B: ‘CHEESE’ / ‘ALL IN’

RHYTHM LINK

- UNDEAD: ‘WOLFGANG’

- Ra*bits: ‘Youth’ (Lee Know)

- Akatsuki: ‘Battle Ground’

NEW DIMENSION

- Knights: ‘Fairytale’

- Switch: ‘Airplane’

- MaM: ‘Star Lost’ / ‘One Day’

… and that’s about it! idk if i’d start a list on individual characters (maybe if i feel like it in the future. also, someone probably already made this kind of list already 😅… i’m just going with my flow).