#stayblr

[straykidsgallery]

SKZ-TALKER GO! Ep.04 MELBOURNE - Han 👓

[yourstargirlyyy]

Oops–

Pairing: Dad!Felix; Husband!Felix x reader Screenshot count: 4 Warnings: swearing Summary: Your daughter's first words aren't exactly what you expected. Masterlist

✩ Star's Taglist: @karlee10261990 ✩ Comment here to be added or send me an ask!

✩ Do not copy my work, do not translate it and try to post it as your own. ✩ Divider by @saradika-graphics

[ladycamdens]

[thebibleophile]

Whispers in the Static

Genre: One-shot

Pairing: Idol Bang Chan x Curvey Fem!reader

TW: MDNI, 18+, Mental health themes, Emotional distress, Body Image issues, Slightly Sexual themes.

WC: 3266

Synopsis: A short story of love, doubt, and the comfort found in honest words.

AN: I wrote this for @snow-flake-writes a while ago. I never got around to posting it. I think it’s time, yeah? It’s also my birthday so why not post twice today. Enjoy, escape a little. We all need that at times.

Y/n stared at her phone screen, watching the three dots appear and disappear as Chris typed something on the other end. It was 11 PM, and he was probably still on set, squeezing in a text between takes. The dots appeared again. Her breath caught with hope, then vanished completely. Her chest tightened, that familiar knot of anxiety pulling tighter with each passing second of silence.

She set the phone face-down on her nightstand with trembling hands and looked at herself in the mirror across from her bed. The soft lamplight cast shadows that seemed to emphasize every flaw she'd catalogued a thousand times before. The critical voice in her head had no trouble cutting through the dim lighting.

What does he see in you?

The question had become a constant companion over the past few weeks, growing louder with each magazine cover she scrolled past, each comment section she knew she shouldn't have read but couldn't stop herself from devouring.

Chris was everything…talented, successful, gorgeous in that effortless way that made photographers fight for his attention. His jawline could cut glass, his smile could light up a room, and his talent was undeniable.

And she? She was ordinary. Unremarkably ordinary. A regular girl with a regular job that barely paid enough, curves that didn't fit into sample sizes no matter how many times she tried them on in fitting rooms under harsh fluorescent lights, and a bank account that made her wince every time rent was due. She couldn't even afford to get her hair done at the salon his friends probably frequented.

Her phone buzzed, making her jump. "Sorry baby, crazy day. Miss you. Can I call tomorrow?"

Y/n stared at the message, her eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow. She typed back a quick "Of course! Don't worry ❤️" and felt the familiar ache settle in her stomach, spreading through her limbs like ice water. He was always apologizing for being busy. She was always saying it was fine. And maybe it was fine. He couldn't help his schedule, she knew that logically. But the demons in her mind twisted it into something else entirely, weaving narratives of abandonment and inevitable heartbreak.

He's pulling away. He's realized you're not enough. He's too polite to break up with you, so he's just... fading. Letting you down easy. Soon the texts will get shorter, the calls less frequent, until one day you'll just be a footnote in his dating history.

She curled up in bed, hugging her pillow to her chest as silent tears finally spilled over. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty, too much like a preview of her future without him.

Three days later, Chris surprised her by showing up at her apartment with takeout from her favorite street food vendor. His smile was bright despite the exhaustion evident in his eyes. Dark circles she could see even through whatever makeup they'd used on set and he pulled her into a hug that smelled like his cologne and the faint scent of coffee and something distinctly Chris that made her want to never let go.

"I've missed you so much," he murmured into her hair, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips…gentle and full of longing, like he was trying to convey everything he'd felt during their days apart. Y/n felt her throat tighten with feelings she couldn't name, relief, love, fear, unworthiness all tangled together.

They ate on her small couch, his thigh pressed against hers, and he told her about the chaos of shooting the music video—the demanding director who made them do take after take, the early call times that had him up at 4 AM, the choreography they'd had to reshoot seven times because the lighting kept changing. She laughed at his stories and tried to ignore the voice whispering that he was only here out of obligation, that he was counting down the minutes until he could leave, that this was pity not love.

"You okay?" Chris asked suddenly, his hand finding hers. His thumb traced circles on her palm, a gesture that should have been comforting but only made her more aware of how inadequate she felt. "You seem distant. You've barely touched your food."

"I'm fine," y/n said automatically, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and felt plastic on her face. "Just tired."

Chris studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching, and she could see him deciding whether to push. Part of her desperately wanted him to push, to force the truth out of her. But a larger part was terrified of what would happen if she finally said the words out loud. He squeezed her hand instead. "Okay. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all."

She nodded, but the words she needed to say stayed locked behind her lips, trapped by fear and shame.

It happened on a random Tuesday afternoon. Y/n was scrolling through social media during her lunch break, mechanically eating a sad desk salad, when she saw it—a candid photo of Chris at some industry event she hadn't even known he was attending. He was surrounded by beautiful people in expensive clothes that probably cost more than her monthly salary, all of them looking like they belonged in his world. A stunning actress—someone y/n recognized from a recent blockbuster—had her perfectly manicured hand on his arm, laughing at something he'd said, her head thrown back in a way that looked effortlessly graceful. The comments were already shipping them together.

"They'd look so good together!"

"Upgrade from his last girlfriend tbh"

"Finally someone on his level"

"Wait who's he dating now? LOL whoever she is must be freaking out 😂"

Y/n locked her phone with shaking hands and tried to breathe through the pain radiating in her chest, sharp and visceral like someone had reached in and squeezed her heart. The salad turned to ash in her mouth. She made it through the rest of her shift on autopilot, responding to emails and phone calls she wouldn't remember five minutes later. She declined her coworker's invitation for after-work drinks with an excuse that sounded hollow even to her own ears, and went home to cry in the privacy of her bathroom, sitting on the cold tile floor with her back against the tub, sobbing until her ribs ached and her eyes were swollen.

When Chris texted that evening asking if he could come over, she stared at the message for a full five minutes, her finger hovering over the keyboard. She almost said no. Part of her wanted to ghost him, to save him the trouble of eventually breaking up with her, to end it on her terms before he could shatter her completely. But she couldn't avoid him forever, so she said yes and spent twenty minutes trying to make herself look like she hadn't been sobbing, layering concealer under her puffy eyes and pinching her cheeks to bring back some color.

He knew the moment he saw her. His face fell, all the easy charm replaced by immediate concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I—" Her voice cracked.

"Y/n." His voice was gentle but firm as he closed the door behind him and took her hands in his, his warmth surrounding her cold fingers. "Please. Talk to me. You've been crying. Don't tell me you haven't."

And suddenly, all the words she'd been holding back came spilling out in a desperate rush, like a dam had finally broken. The insecurity that haunted her every waking moment, the constant comparisons that made her feel like she was drowning, the feeling that she was never going to be enough for someone like him—not pretty enough, not successful enough, not anything enough. The fear that kept her up at night that he was only staying because he was too kind to hurt her, too good a person to just rip the bandaid off. The certainty that it was only a matter of time before he realized he could do so much better, that he deserved someone who matched him, who fit into his world instead of watching it from the outside.

"I saw the photos from that event," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, hot and relentless. "And everyone was right. She's perfect for you. They're all perfect for you. They belong in your world, and I—I'm just... I'm just me. I work a nine-to-five job you could never take seriously. I can't afford the restaurants you go to. I don't know how to talk to your friends. I don't fit, Chris. I don't fit in your life, and every day I wake up waiting for you to realize it too."

Chris looked shattered, like she'd physically struck him. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her own tears with a tenderness that made her heart ache so badly she thought it might break right there.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, waiting until her eyes met his. "You really think I'd be with you if I didn't want to be? Y/n, I'm not that noble. I'm not that good of a person. I'm not staying out of politeness or pity or whatever story your anxiety is telling you. I'm staying because I can't imagine my life without you in it. The thought of losing you terrifies me."

"But—"

"No buts. Listen to me." His voice cracked slightly. "You are the best part of my day. Every single day. When I'm exhausted on set, when some director is screaming at me for the fifteenth time, when I'm pretending to be someone I'm not for twelve hours straight—I think about coming home to you. When something good happens, even something small, you're the first person I want to tell. When everything feels fake and superficial and like I'm just playing a part in my own life, you're the real thing that keeps me grounded. You're the only person who makes me feel like me."

Y/n let out a shaky breath, wanting desperately to believe him but still feeling the weight of her doubts pressing down on her chest.

"I don't care about status or money or any of that superficial shit," Chris continued, his voice growing more urgent. "I care about how you laugh at my terrible jokes, even the ones that don't land. How you actually listen when I talk about my day instead of just waiting for your turn to talk. How you make me feel like myself instead of some version of me that everyone else expects—the charming celebrity, the perfect boyfriend, whatever. You see me, y/n. The real me. You're brilliant and funny and beautiful, and I know you don't see yourself that way, but I do. God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes for just one day."

"I'm sorry," y/n whispered, fresh tears spilling over. "I'm sorry I doubted us. I just... I got in my own head, and I couldn't find my way out, and—"

"I'm sorry too." Chris pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her face. "I've been so caught up with work that I haven't been showing you how much you mean to me. I've been taking you for granted, assuming you knew, and that's on me. And I'm going to do better. I need to do better because the thought of losing you because I was too busy or too stupid to show you how much I love you, it's unbearable."

"You don't have to—" Y/n, started.

"Youre right, I don’t have to. I want to. Because you deserve someone who makes you feel secure and loved and appreciated every single day, not just when it's convenient. And I want to be that person. I need to be that person." He pulled back slightly to meet her eyes again, his gaze intense and full of an emotion that took her breath away. "Will you let me? Will you give me another chance to do this right?"

Y/n nodded, her heart full and overflowing, and she pulled him close, capturing his lips in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened into something more urgent, more desperate. Chris responded immediately, his hands sliding into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss further. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him with a soft sigh that he swallowed.

They moved together toward her bedroom, stumbling slightly, unable to break apart even for a moment. Chris walked her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed, and he lowered her gently onto the mattress, his body covering hers with a delicious weight that made her feel safe and cherished and wanted.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against her lips, then along her jaw, down the column of her throat, each word punctuated with a kiss that set her skin on fire. "So perfect. I want to show you. Will you let me show you?"

"Yes," y/n breathed, her hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart. "Please, Chris."

He took his time undressing her, each piece of clothing removed with reverent care, his hands and lips exploring every inch of newly exposed skin. He kissed the places she was most insecure about—the soft curve of her stomach, the stretch marks she'd tried to hide, the scars that mapped her history—with such tenderness that tears pricked her eyes again.

"Every part of you," he murmured against her skin. "I love every part of you."

When they finally came together, skin to skin, it was slow and tender and overwhelming. Chris moved with deliberate care, watching her face, learning what made her gasp, what made her arch into him. His forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling as they found a rhythm together that felt ancient and new all at once.

"You're everything to me," he whispered to her. "You're everything." As Chris slid in and out of her so slow. His strong hands holding her to him, loving her without words.

Pleasure built between them, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally crested in waves that left them both trembling, moaning, and breathless.

Afterward, he held her close, their bodies still intertwined, her head resting on his chest where she could hear the steady thunder of his heartbeat gradually slowing. He stroked her hair with gentle fingers, pressing kisses to the top of her head, murmuring sweet words that wrapped around her like a blanket.

"Stay with me," y/n whispered into the comfortable silence, suddenly afraid this moment was too perfect to last.

"Always," Chris promised without hesitation. "I'm not going anywhere. You're mine, and I'm yours. For as long as you'll have me."

"Forever, then," y/n said, surprised by how easily the word came, how right it felt.

"Forever sounds perfect," Chris agreed, tilting her chin up to kiss her once more,soft and sweet and full of promise.

Over the next few weeks, Chris made good on his promise. He started setting boundaries with work that he'd never enforced before, turning down events and telling his agent that his evenings and weekends were protected time for them. He left her little notes when he had to leave early for dawn shoots—reminders that he loved her, that he was thinking of her, that she was the most important person in his world. He sent her photos throughout the day, stupid selfies and behind-the-scenes shots, keeping her included even when they were apart.

One evening, he surprised her by taking her to a quiet rooftop restaurant, the city lights twinkling below them like fallen stars. It was intimate and beautiful, and she felt underdressed until he squeezed her hand and whispered that she was the most beautiful person there.

"I want to tell you something," he said over dessert, reaching across the table to take her hand, his thumb tracing familiar patterns on her skin. "I don't just want to be your boyfriend. I want to be your partner. Your person. The one you come to when those demons start whispering their lies. I want to be the one who fights them with you, who reminds you of the truth when you can't see it yourself."

Y/n felt tears prick her eyes, happy tears this time, overwhelming and cathartic.

"I know you struggle with insecurity," Chris continued, his voice steady and sure. "And I can't fix that for you—that's work you have to do yourself, and I understand that. But I can promise to remind you every single day how extraordinary you are. How lucky I am. How much I genuinely, completely, desperately love you. How you're not just enough—you're everything."

"You love me?" The words came out barely above a whisper, fragile and hopeful.

Chris smiled, soft and genuine and so full of emotion it made her chest tight. "I love you. I'm in love with you. Have been for a while now, but I was waiting for the right moment. And this feels right. You deserve to hear it when you're ready to believe it."

"I love you too," y/n said, her voice stronger now, more certain. "Even when my brain tries to tell me I shouldn't. Even when I'm scared. Even when I don't feel like I deserve it."

"Then we'll fight those thoughts together," Chris said, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Deal?"

"Deal."

Later that night, after making love for the second time that evening, wrapped in each other's arms in y/n's small apartment that suddenly felt less inadequate and more like home, Chris traced lazy patterns on her skin and mumbled all the things he loved about her. Her kindness that she showed even when she was hurting. Her strength that she didn't recognize in herself. The distinct way she laughed at something ridiculous. The way she made him feel seen in a world that only wanted the surface, that only cared about the image and the fame and forgot there was a person underneath it all.

"You're stuck with me now," he murmured against her temple, pulling her impossibly closer. "Beautiful, messy, perfect you."

Y/n laughed, the sound filling her darkened bedroom. "I'm not perfect."

"Perfect for me," Chris corrected, his voice fierce with conviction. "That's all that matters. You're perfect for me, and I'm never letting you forget it again."

And for the first time in months, y/n let herself believe it. The demons would probably whisper again someday, anxiety didn't disappear overnight, and she knew the road ahead wouldn't always be easy. But now she had something stronger to fight them with: the knowledge that she was loved, wholly and completely, exactly as she was. Not despite her flaws, but with them. Not as someone Chris was settling for, but as someone he chose every single day.

And that was more than enough.

Tags: @atetheluck @firstdivisiongirl @ayedomino008 @tsumiyaa @skepticalvoidhedgehog @mar1511 @meelbarnes @rylea08 @mrsleeknowsaurus @straysmuchi @angelwings-fly @hearteubeateuxz @nvuueas @king-of-knives @imelteverytimeihearminniesing @soupslvt @nerdypuppylover7 @itsraininghyunebuckets @stargazexo @iseulkm @hollyn1729 @a4bangchan143 @angstylittleb1tch @beppybeesnuggets @barbie-girl84 @dejacircus @compersian @siacb97 @iluvmewwwww75 @pokalunolino @shuporanporang @wolf-eyed-witchh11 @intrikatie @encoredesires @yakuislove @shynotded @mattiemocha @springs-tales @sweetlyatomicgenesis

Copyright: do not copy, translate, repost, or edit my work in any way. If you do, I will publicly call out the violation and pursue legal action, including a DMCA takedown and cease and desist letter.

Please keep in mind that…

All pictures used belong to their rightful owners (e.g., Pinterest and RealStrayKids).

I do not condone any inappropriate attractions, actions, or thoughts towards Stray Kids in real life. This is purely fiction and is not true.

Anything written about these men is entirely fictional. It does not reflect how they act, react, or talk in real life, nor is it meant to portray them that way. Nothing written here suggests they do, say, or act these ways.

Any necessary warnings will be labeled accordingly. If anything is missed, please let me know.

[solemnsolene]

turn your brain off ! <3

idol!bangchan x gn!reader

syn: Bangchan, your burntout boyfie just wants to spend his day off in your arms :((

cw: toothrottingly cringe fluff, lotss of kissing, slight angst, comfort, use of “baby” like once, established relationship

a/n: my first ever fic woahwoahwoah!! sorry for any errors <3 (lack of caps+apostrophes r purposeful except in dialogue :3)

listen to: another day-skz

chan rarely slept in

even on his days off, his body was trained to wake up early like his schedule was scripted into his genetic code. yet today, the soft glow of rising sun had peeked through the curtains by the time he stirred awake, his arm draped loosely around your waist. the room was quiet in a way that he wasnt used to this late in the morning, he exhaled gently, his forehead resting against the back of your shoulder as you also woke up. “Baby.. you awake?” he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep.

you hummed softly in reply, shifting just enough to turn to face him in his arms. your eyes were still heavy, but you smiled at him anyway. that smile that never failed to make his chest tighten in adoration. “Barely,” you murmured. “slept in for once i see” you added. he let out a small laugh, the sound more tired than amused. you reached up to brush your thumb along the faint shadows under his eyes. they were subtle, but they were there.

evidence of all those late nights in the studio, practices, responsibilities piled on top of eachother until there was barely room to breathe.

“You look exhausted,” you whispered.

“I am,” he admitted without trying to pretend otherwise. “'dunno.. It’s just been… a lot lately.”

his words were simple, yet the weight they held wasnt. he didnt often talk about it, about how the pressure of being an idol, a leader, followed him even when he was supposed to be resting. how his mind was never free from thoughts of work. he was always thinking about the next studio session, the next performance, the next thing he could do better.

you moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. “Well today, you can just.. turn your brain off, we don’t need to do anything else” He shut his eyes, letting your words register “I know,” “I just want to be here. With you. Thats all I want to do.”

your heart softened at the way he said it, like he had been wanting to speak those words for a while. you leaned in and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his lips. It was unhurried, lazy, just like the morning you were sharing.

when you pulled back, his eyes were still shut

“I feel bad sometimes, like I don’t have enough time for you. like you deserve someone who isn’t always tired or busy.” he confessed. you frowned softly, brushing your nose against his. “Hey. Don’t do that.”

“y/n. I mean it,” he said, opening his eyes now. there was vulnerability in his gaze that he didnt just let anyone see. “what if you get sick of.. waiting for me.” your hand slid into his hair, fingers massaging gently at his scalp the way you knew helped him relax after those long days

“I don’t feel like im waiting for you channie..” his pillowy lips parted slightly, breath hitching as if didnt expect that answer. you kissed him again, even slower this time, lingering just a bit longer. he kissed you back, one hand finding your waist and pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. the kiss deepened, still soft, but warmer. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling

he sighed, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. “'ts hard to think about anything else when Im with you.” you grinned playfully, “Thats the plan. I want you completely distracted.”

he chuckled quietly, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I dont mind being distracted like this at all.”

later, you found yourselves in the kitchen. enjoying a silence that felt comfortable only because it was between the two of you. you made coffee, he leaned against the counter, watching you as if you were the most interesting thing in the room because in his opinion, you were. every so often, he would step closer simply to press a quick peck to your cheek or wrap his arms around you from behind. “You’re clingy today,” you teased lightly. “Can you blame me?” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. “haven’t held you in forever..”

you turned around, coffee forgotten for a moment as you slipped your hands under his hoodie, palms warm against his sides. he shivered slightly at the touch, his eyes softening.

“Then stay right here,” you whispered. “Let yourself rest, Chris. Let me take care of you for once.” he leaned down to kiss you again, slow and tender, like he was trying to pour all the unspoken gratitude and affection into it.

“'don’t deserve you..” he muttered against your lips before pulling back, “You do. Even on your tired days. especially on your tired days.” you replied

for the first time in a long while he let himself believe it.

est word count: 800

thank you so much for reading!!! :D

[hyuneskkami]

𓂃﹙𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄﹚─── ﹕☆ ៹ 𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝓔𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . 合 ★

❛ 𝓢𝐘𝐍. ❜ silly dates with your children. [chan & jeongin separate]

❛ 𝓦𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒+𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. ❜ sosososo fluffy ⠀·⠀ no warnings it’s js cute af 😙🩷 ⠀·⠀⠀name of the child is mentioned (consider as oc?) bc it’s awkward to write ‘your daughter’ EVERY SINGLE line 😭 ⠀·⠀⠀ateez!wooyoung mentioned in jeongin’s ⠀·⠀⠀idol!reader 🤍

❛ 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. ❜ feeding my dad!skz delusions w this ⠀·⠀⠀lwk i LOVE domestic!skz it just fills my heart 🫶 ⠀·⠀⠀gonna write a pt 2 with two more members trust ⭐️ ⠀·⠀⠀also lwk i had just started writing this and then i saw the skz code teaser and i was like THAT’S SO CUTE 😭

❛ 𝓦𝐂. ❜ 1.4k

chan ⭑ ft. your daughter, aeri. ꒰ idol!reader ꒱

“aeri-ya, come here,” he picked your daughter up and placed her on his lap. “appa’s got to work for a bit, and then he’ll give you cuddles and a good night story, all right? we’ll go home soon, i promise. i’m sorry you’re here late because of me,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, turning back to his laptop to continue working on the unfinished track.

aeri giggled and placed both her hands on chan’s cheeks, and turned his face towards her. “appa!” she squeezed his cheeks and tumbled forward to press a wet kiss to his forehead.

chan sighed, melting into her, pulling her closer. “how can i work when my pretty little girl is distracting me like this? your eomma’s the same!” he pretended to complain, smiling at aeri.

she giggled again, as he turned the chair around to look at you sleepily scrolling through reels on your phone. you had told him to let you take care of aeri, but he insisted you both come to the studio and relax, maybe even sleep, if possible. the couch was wide enough for you and aeri.

he didn’t want you to overwork yourself while looking after your daughter alone. he wanted to help.

you looked up from your phone, and smiled softly at your chan and aeri.

he could see the tiredness in your face without looking twice. he knew you were pushing yourself to the edge with how much you stayed in the practice rooms for your group’s latest comeback. he loved that you choreographed the group’s dances, but in this moment, he kind of hated it because it meant you had to work extra hard.

he pulled his chair closer to the table, after watching you fall asleep slowly. he gently placed aeri beside the console and made sure she was comfortable, before he stood up and walked over to where you fell asleep on the couch. he adjusted your legs so you could lay comfortably.

“i love you,” he whispered.

he covered you with his jacket, and an extra blanket that he kept at the studio for exactly this reason. he kissed your cheek and moved a strand of your hair away from your face, before going back to aeri.

“aeri-ya, let’s quickly finish this track, okay? c’mon, you can help me,” he said, bringing her back into his lap.

“surprise eomma! with song!” she said. without waiting for his response, she started pushing buttons and moving sliders on the console.

chan paused for a moment before realising that whatever his daughter was doing was… working. lyrics flowed through his brain freely, allowing him to complete his unfinished track, as aeri continued playing with the console.

after a few more minutes of working on it, he clapped his hands once, signalling the end of it. aeri squealed, as if she understood.

she pointed at the mic in the recording booth, and then to herself. she even glared at chan to convince him, as if to say: ‘let me record a song too!’

he laughed at her, and nodded solemnly. “yes, master.” he giggled at her, picking her up. he opened the door to the recording booth, and placed her on a tiny chair, which was usually used to keep water bottles. he adjusted the mic to practically reach the floor her height. she nodded happily, and shooed chan away. he smiled and put the huge headphones on her head.

then, he laughed quietly, raising his hands in surrender. he moved back to the console, closing the door to the recording booth. he could see aeri if he leaned forward in his chair, which was the position he stayed in. he pressed play on the random beats aeri had been playing with.

music filled the room and aeri started giggling and saying stuff. chan could hear her squeals just from looking at her. he picked up his headphones and put them on as his daughter’s voice filled his head.

“eomma! appa! aeri! love!” she said, giggling. she placed both her hands on her own cheeks, squishing them together. it seemed to be her favourite action. “love! love!” she repeated, in-tune with the song she had just produced by mistake.

“aeri-ya, where did you learn that word?” he interrupted her while laughing.

“appa! you? eomma?” she said, eyes wide with glee. chan assumed she’d heard it all the times he’d said it to you, as well as to your daughter.

jeongin ⭑ ft. your daughter, nari. ꒰ idol!au ꒱

“stwawbewwy?” she repeated.

“strawberry,” jeongin corrected softly.

“st..raw..bewwy!”

“close enough,” he smiled at your daughter, picking her up from the floor where she was playing with her toys. “c’mon nari, let’s go to the supermarket with eomma! i’ll show you strawberries today.”

“soop..maawket?”

“yes, that,” he laughed, adjusting her in his arms. he turned towards you, looking at you finding your accessories and phone before walking towards him.

“sorry, i was getting my rings on,” you smiled sheepishly.

“don’t apologise,” he smiled softly. “i love your fashion, and i do hope nari’s inherited both of our styles,” he laughed.

“fashun!” nari repeated. you both laughed and nodded your heads. she was too cute to correct.

“oh, i was thinking… can she try strawberries today?” jeongin asked you slowly as you slipped two of his rings onto his fingers.

“oh my god, yes! i really wanna see if she’s got our strawberry-loving genes,” you said excitedly.

“that’s one of the top ten weirdest sentences i’ve ever heard you say,” jeongin laughed, pulling you closer by your waist. he pressed a deep kiss to your lips, and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

nari started fidgeting in his other hand, scratching against his bicep. “appa! stawbewwy!” she reminded. “eomma kissy after!” you both burst out laughing, apologising to your daughter.

“yes, nari-ya, your highness, we’ll go to your strawberries first,” you teased her. she smiled satisfactorily, wrapping her arms around jeongin’s neck and falling forward to nuzzle her face into his neck.

“she hugs exactly like you,” he said, bringing up the way you found comfort while hiding your face in his neck all the time. “it runs in the blood.”

you swatted his shoulder lightly. “whatever. you love it!”

“that i do.” he held your hand in his unoccupied one. the two of you stumbled out of the door with your daughter giggling excitedly in jeongin’s arms.

you locked the door behind you with your free hand, and pushed the keys into jeongin’s pocket.

“let’s gwo!” nari said, pumping up a hand in the air repeatedly.

“let’s give her to wooyoung and make her dance to adrenaline,” you joked.

“woo!” nari exclaimed, recognising the name. “ajhussi!”

“he’s gonna cry when he hears what she just called him,” jeongin cackled.

after a while, you took nari into your arms to give jeongin a rest. he argued that she weighed nothing, but you insisted… and how could he say no to his pretty wife?

upon reaching the supermarket, jeongin stole your daughter from you, making a beeline towards the strawberries. you laughed at them, taking out your phone to record nari’s first ever strawberry reaction video.

jeongin bought two packs of strawberries, paying for them quickly. nari was jumping around in his arms, buzzing with excitement. they looked like an ‘evil villain and his little evil helper’ duo, you couldn’t even unsee it anymore.

unwrapping the plastic cover with top speed, jeongin sat down on a bench in the park outside the market. he placed nari on his lap, making sure she wouldn’t fall backwards. she even held onto his wide shoulders for safety.

he holds up a single strawberry to the light, hoping to make it look cinematic but nari just stole it from his hands and took a small bite from the corner.

“ew!” her face exploded in disgust first. her nose scrunched sharply, eyebrows furrowing at the same time. her eyes were almost invisible with the way she was squinting.

you swear you’d never laughed so hard in your life, not even when jeongin had ripped his pants trying to show you some new dance he’d learnt.

“i can’t even blame her for not liking it,” he almost cried, eating the remaining strawberry. “she’s too cute!” he groaned.

before he could place the next strawberry in his mouth, nari pulled his hand away from his mouth and stole it. she plopped the whole thing into her mouth, puffing up her cheeks to fit it.

“twasty!” she said, mouth filled with a single strawberry.

⌣ ﹒ ୨ৎ ﹕an. gahhh this was so cute to write <3

⌣ ﹒ ୨ৎ ﹕tl. @dejundesign @angelwings-fly @inejghafawifesblog @doliveiraa @fawnoverdawn @angelwings-fly @raysramblings @written-by-music

[rosinbutnotforaviola]

ʚ♡ɞ ❤︎ Dust Covers and Rain Showers - H. Jisung ❤︎ ʚ♡ɞ

--han jisung x gn!reader--

Synopsis: You hate Jisung. He's your rival. Obviously, you can't stand him. But when he finds you crying in the library, you discover that perhaps he isn't as unbearable as you once thought.

Warnings: Mentions of reader's mommy issues, feelings of inadequacy

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

WC: 3260

Ever since your grades started to matter, Han Jisung had been better than you. He was smarter, funnier, and, according to the results of the student council elections, better. Being Vice President wasn’t bad by any means, and to anyone except you, second in your entire class would have been considered a sizable accomplishment.

But you weren’t normal. And you weren’t going to let some stuck-up little nerd get the better of you, because you had to be the best. If you weren’t on top, if you weren’t crushing everyone beneath your boots, you weren’t good enough. So second-place celebrations would have to wait until you could knock that stupid handsome smirk off Jisung’s face.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you found a quiet corner of the public library, already four coffees in, poring over the pages of your Calculus textbook. The rain pattered on the window heavily, the cloudy day turning quickly into a rainy night. Your calculator sat at half-battery to your right, the lamp overhead flickering as if it had been on for twelve hours–which was fair, you guessed, given that it had been on for twelve hours. Glancing at your watch, then back at your homework, you practically pulled the hair right off of your skull.

“Fucking trig again..” You muttered to yourself through another sip of coffee, your face scrunching at the bitter taste–they’d forgotten your sugar.

As the hours waned on, evening turning quickly to midnight, you found yourself stuck. It was hard to be in an advanced calculus class, but even harder was trying to maintain exceptional grades in that class. Math came easy to you every single year, except this year, and now, you were drowning in it.

“When are you going to give up on being better than Jisung, huh?” Your mother’s voice rang through your head, stabbing sharply into your gut and twisting.

“What do you even need these classes for, anyway? For fun? Don’t tell me you’re still chasing that stupid astronomy dream…”

“If you can’t even be the best in your small school, how can you expect to do well in university? You’ll drown, sweetheart.”

“The best thing you can do is to find a nice, sensible man to settle down with. Then, he can work and you can take your time with your education. You wouldn’t have to worry about money!”

But you didn’t want to give up. If anything, the comments only made the rage simmering in your stomach rise to a full boil. You didn’t need marriage, you didn’t need anyone. You would be better than Jisung, and when you graduated top of your class, you’d pass nothing but a smug look at those who doubted you.

But damn… having some support sounded pretty nice right now. Having one person–it didn’t even really matter who–who truly believed in you? That was the dream. Too bad you weren’t popular, like Jisung. If you had his flawless jawline, his cute but messy hair… you were convinced you could get whatever you wanted from someone. Instead you were stuck being plain. Boring. And when you let the voices in your head get to you for just a little too long, you even thought you were ugly. Stupid beauty standards. Stupid school. Stupid mom, who doesn’t fucking believe in you. Stupid Jisung, with his perfect looks and perfect grades, who you couldn’t even hate because he had to go and be nice–

“Are you okay?”

The concerned voice snapped you out of your trance, and you raised your head, taking out your headphones. It was him–of course it was. Who the fuck else would it be?

You looked down at your paper. You hadn’t even realized you were crying, but now there were teardrops staining the paper. How embarrassing.

“Yeah,” You sniffed, raising a hand to wipe your tears and disguise your undeniably puffy red eyes, “I’m fine.”

You said it coldly, almost too harsh, and you regretted them a little the second the words left your mouth. When he didn’t respond, you finished cleaning your face and looked up. He looked perfect as always, his hair cute and messy, to the point where you almost had to resist reaching out to fix it. He had his toned arms folded over his chest, and you immediately thought that it shouldn’t be fair for someone as smart as him to have such a nice body. His eyes were soft and understanding, and that’s probably what made your blood boil the most–the fact that he didn’t seem to know how much he ticked you off.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked as you took another sip of your coffee, closing your calculus textbook and turning off your calculator, as if you’d been planning to leave already.

A slight smirk crossed his face, and you frowned, resisting the urge to punch him.

“I… work here?” He said, quirking a brow as your eyes flicked to his nametag.

“Since when?” The question left your lips, your tone harsh before you could stop to soften it.

“About a month now,” He responded as quickly as you had, which left you a bit speechless.

Your lips parted slightly, as if you were about to say something, but instead you just looked down at your bag, continuing to pack up.

“Whatever.”

His voice when he next spoke was soft and kind. Too soft and kind, in fact, for him to be the one guy fueling all your rage-induced study sessions.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

This one gave you pause. Did you want to act out? Absolutely. Did he infuriate you? Also yes. But did he deserve it? Well… maybe that was a better question for a different girl. One with a better ability to control her emotions.

“No,” You said, the anger poisoning your voice as you stood, brows furrowed, fists clenched.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” He pried carefully.

That was the last straw.

“Ugh!” You said, turning to him and sticking your finger up, holding it against his chest, your faces inches away, “You are the problem! You, Jisung! You wanna know why I’m not okay?! Because you have to go and be perfect at everything!”

An expression of surprise crossed his face and you took a step forward, your finger making contact with his chest as he finally started to back down.

“Your grades, your personality, your body, ugh! Everything has to be soooo wonderful, huh?! And I can’t even hate you, because then you turn around and say things like ‘Oh shoot, I almost missed that question!’ or ‘Are you okay?’ like we’re fucking friends! You are the one thing standing in my way, and I can’t even be angry at you, so just- just… shut up!”

Your fist collided with his chest as he was finally backed up against a bookshelf. You ducked your head, dissolving into sobs as you threw a weak punch at his chest.

“Just shut up…”

He was quiet for a long moment, perfectly still, shocked. And then his hands came up and pulled you close to him, forcing you into a hug, which you reluctantly melted into, too busy crying to argue. He held you there for a long moment, silent, then as your sobs quieted and you pulled back, sniffling, that stupid smirk came back onto his face.

“I’m perfect?” He said, way too smugly for someone who had just been comforting you.

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of his arms to try to retreat to your study spot, “Never mind.”

“No, no,” He laughed, pulling you back towards him, “It’s okay. I’m sorry. That was childish of me.”

You sniffed, looking back up at him to see that he was… blushing? He had his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, looking away like he was contemplating something important.

“I mean… thanks, I guess? In all honesty, I’ve always thought you were way better than me.”

His admission made your jaw drop.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

You bit your own lip, thinking as his grip loosened on your wrist. You were… better? Than him? Objectively, that was wrong, right? He was top of the class, you were just… second place.

“You just… you have this way, you know?” He said with a laugh, smiling like you would at an old friend, not a rival, “When you come into student council meetings, or classes, or anything, really, you bring this leadership, this… I don’t know, power, that just seems to come naturally to you. I’m not like that.”

You gave him a confused look, but didn’t interrupt him.

“I mean, I’m honestly not great with people. Everything they say gets under my skin, but you? You’re just so effortlessly cool. You don’t care if some girl is glaring at you in the hall, because you’re so focused and dedicated, and… not like me.”

The words struck your core deeply. In all honesty, you’d always been too busy with things to worry about looks from across the hall or trivial things like social standing. You only did things socially because they were required for student council, which was supposed to help you get into university. Hearing him say that it was cool of you not to care honestly made your cheeks heat up a little.

“Well, now you’re just patronizing me,” You said, trying to quell the warmth that was suddenly appearing.

“No,” He said with a smile, noticing how you didn’t pull your wrist back, “I’m trying to prove you wrong.”

You paused for a moment. Proving you wrong? That was… one way to put it, you supposed. He was being so nice, so thoughtful, and what did you do in return? Shut him down. He didn’t deserve that. You shifted a bit from one foot to another, fingers tugging at your own sweater in a nervous habit.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered, grabbing your bag, “I’ve gotta go…”

He tried to chase after you, but it was too late. You were out of the library in a flash, letting yourself stand in the pouring rain, because what kind of person does that?

You were mean. You barely even knew the guy. And he was standing right next to you, holding an umbrella so you wouldn’t get wet.

“You don’t have to talk,” He said before you could shut him down, “But at least stay dry? For me?”

You reached out hesitantly, paused, then took the umbrella from his hand. You were shorter than him, though, so it bumped a bit against his head, making him let out a dramatic sound in surprise.

“Ack!” He ducked, his hands covering his head, and you couldn’t help but think about how cute and cartoony he was.

The thought made you burst out laughing, and after a moment, he joined you, giggling with that stupidly adorable smile. His gums were showing, his teeth on full display. You’d never thought of a smile as cute before. Especially not a goofy grin. But with him? Perhaps you could make an exception.

“Thanks…” You said, looking up at him with as genuine of a smile as you could muster.

“Anytime,” He said, giving you a little wave as he walked back up the steps to the library.

On his way, he nearly tripped, catching himself and sending you a thumbs-up, which made you giggle. And maybe your heart fluttered just a bit, because this boy had just shown more kindness than anyone you’d ever known. He was wicked smart, funny, and still somehow the clumsiest guy you’d ever seen.

…

The next few weeks were shorter than you wanted them to be. He started talking to you before class, at lunch, anywhere he could say hi. Normally, you would’ve found this behavior annoying. He was better than you, for Christ’s sake, you were supposed to hate him! But ever since that day at the library, you’d been watching him more closely, observing how he stood up for people, how he supported them so effortlessly, even if he had to go out of his way to do so.

So instead of sneering at him like usual, you found yourself smiling shyly and waving back at every encounter. Your heart skipped a little every time you saw him chew on his pencil or nervously tap his foot against the floor. Every time your mom started to yell at you, you’d close your eyes and imagine Jisung hugging you, telling you that things were gonna be okay.

You started to build an image of him, see a side of him you’d never even considered before: that he was just that. A good person. The moment the thought crossed your mind, you knew you’d found your solution.

He would support you. He would understand everything. Or, at least, the fictional version of him in your head would. Of course, actually talking to him was a different obstacle entirely. Every time he said hi, he would be swept off by a group trying to get him to play soccer. When he actually did get to talk to you, you found yourself stumbling over your own words and tripping up like you’d never done before. It was as if your body had turned on you entirely, going rigid, mouth dry if he even glanced in your direction.

But eventually, you found yourself back in front of the library. Your mom was walking away, satisfied with whatever she’d just screamed at her daughter–you hadn’t been listening, but a tear slipped out anyway as a few raindrops pattered onto the ground. You didn’t bother to look up when Jisung came up and stood right in front of you, because you knew from his shoes. They were these ratty old boots that he wore everywhere. People even made fun of him for them, but they were unmistakably his.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” You laughed weakly, wringing your hands, “She doesn’t normally do it in public.”

He just frowned, and pulled you into another hug. Because what else do you do in that situation? He was just pitying you, you were certain.

“It’s not your fault,” He whispered, the rain starting to pitter against his head, “So don’t apologize.”

You hugged him back then, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest like it was the softest, most comforting pillow on Earth–and it practically was. He nodded, not shushing you, not trying to get you to stop, just letting you cry. Supporting you. Because that’s what you needed.

You weren’t sure when you decided to go home with him, but it must have been late, because it was dark out, and the rain had stopped. His house was small and cozy, and even though his parents were working, there were pictures of his family covering the hallways, so it didn’t really feel empty.

You sat down mindlessly on the couch, and only once you were curled up next to him in a blanket, a cup of hot tea in your hand as he put on a movie, did you realize what he’d just done. You looked down at the tea, trying not to cry, because he was so kind. How dare he be so kind?

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes. You looked up, blushing, the feeling still new and unexpected.

“I don’t,” You managed to whisper, “But thank you.”

The movie went on, and eventually his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers underneath the blanket. To everyone’s surprise, but especially your own, you leaned into his side, accepting his comfort, because if anyone understood what you were feeling, it was Jisung.

He had to have been your rival for a reason. Had to have someone or something pushing him past his limits, too. So you let him feel with you, let yourself be in his company, let yourself believe that things could be okay.

When the movie ended, you were wrapped in each other, not quite crying and not quite hugging, but something in between. You moved a bit, and he made a soft sound, almost like a whine, like he didn’t want you to move.

“Jisung…” You whispered, hovering above him, trying to be respectful.

“Mmh…” He hummed in response, pulling you closer, which made you realize his hands were around your waist. The feeling was… comforting?

“You’re… holding me,” You decided, your face blushing that deep red that it always got when you were flustered.

“Yeah,” he said, seeming not to care about the implications.

You sat up a bit, pulling back just long enough to discuss the situation, and before you could get away, he interrupted you, his hands freezing on your sides.

“I like you,” he said, the words falling so effortlessly from his mouth, even though they made your jaw drop.

“Bad timing, I know…” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “But… I figured, if I want to support you, I don’t want to get too far and make you feel like I didn’t really care, you know?” He began to ramble, “Like… if I was comforting you and trying to help and then like a month later I told you I liked you this whole time, you’d probably think I was just trying to get in your pants, which I definitely am not–or- I mean… I kind of am? But, like, after a few dates. Like, romantically, you know? I just–”

You interrupted him by kissing him, surprising even yourself with the firmness of your lips against his. He tasted like warm vanilla and coffee, his lips hesitant at first, but gradually moving in tandem with your own. His hands loosened their grip on your waist and his eyes fluttered shut. As much as you loved those beautiful brown eyes, you found yourself wishing you could see them close like that more often.

He smelled exactly as he tasted, with a hint of his cologne lingering over the top, and as your hands drifted to his chest to brush softly against his wonderfully sculpted pecs, he let out a sigh that you swear came down from the heavens to bless your ears.

As you pulled back for air, he took the opportunity to let out a slightly awkward laugh.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t hate me, then?” He teased, quirking a brow in a way that made you want to wipe that smirk off of his face.

“You talk too much,” You muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “But I like you too, idiot.”

You pressed your forehead to his and he smiled, running his hand up your side. He swayed softly to the music in the credits, his eyes remaining shut like he thought he was still dreaming. You could have done the same, if looking at him like this wasn’t so tempting.

“We don’t have to figure anything out yet,” He reassured you, “But it’s nice to have you.”

You thought for a moment, pausing. There were a lot of things in your life that you didn’t like. Your mother, your arrogance, your lack of close friends… But in this moment, you found yourself–not for the first time–wishing you could have someone you did like. And he’d just walked into your life, like he was completely welcome.

“It is,” You agreed quietly.

He was so cocky, arrogant, smart… and a presence in your life you now never wanted to disappear.

a/n: Thanks so much for reading! This is my first fanfiction posted to tumblr, so feel free to give any advice or comments below!

Here's the link to my masterlist! Not a whole lot there yet but I'll keep updating!

[melonminnn]

🐺 mashed potato channie and his kin🪸

(I stayed up all night drawing this heart emoji)