hazelwritez

[hazelwritez]

THE ECHO ROOM: A BANGCHAN X READER MINI-SERIES

Interlude: Static Interference- Chan's POV

There was something about the Echo Room that made him feel… human.

Not an idol. Not a leader. Not someone constantly being watched or needing to hold everything together with duct tape and caffeine. Just a guy. Just Chan.

He didn’t plan on coming back that night. He didn’t even plan on writing that piano loop.

But her voice—that brutally honest comment about his demo sounding like a ghost sobbing underwater—kept playing on a loop in his head, and somehow, that ridiculous comparison turned into inspiration. It was the first time in weeks a song didn’t feel forced.

And now, she was sitting across from him again. Calm. Focused. No fake laughter. No flattering comments. She wasn’t afraid of the silence, and that alone made him feel more seen than anything else had in months.

When she said, “Sounds like someone trying to find their way back to something,” he felt something in his chest move—just slightly.

God, how long had it been since someone listened like that? Not as a fan. Not as a producer. Just… someone. Who heard what was underneath.

He wanted to tell her that he was tired.

That he didn’t know how to write for himself anymore.

That some nights he sat in the studio staring at blinking lights, wondering if maybe he’d already burned through every good part of him.

But instead, he gave her a half-smile and a vague compliment.

Because he couldn’t let it get messy.

Not here.

Not with her.

Because something about the way she looked at him made him want to fall apart.

And that was dangerous.

authors note: for any confusion, this mini chapter is chapter 2 but from Chans perspective. lmk if you would like to be added to a tag list. tysm for reading, chap 3 coming soon! 🫶

[hazelwritez]

what i wouldn't give to listen to this song for the first time again 🙏

(ps it still hits after listening 2000000 times an hour 😁)

[hazelwritez]

THE ECHO ROOM: A BANGCHAN X READER MINI-SERIES

warnings: fluff, angst, some comfort

Chapter 2: Static Interference

The second time he came to Echo Room, you weren’t expecting him.

It was almost 10 p.m., and you’d just finished organizing audio files from a screamo band who thought mic-peaking was a personality trait. You were about to shut everything down when the door creaked open.

“Got room for one more ghost?”

Chan stood there—same hoodie, different beanie, and this time, a tired smile instead of sunglasses.

You blinked. “Uh… you don’t have a booking tonight.”

“Didn’t think I’d need one. Figured the ghost from last time might still be haunting around.”

You raised a brow but stepped aside. “Welcome back, Sad Aquatic Spirit.”

He chuckled. “Gotta say, it’s growing on me.”

⸻

He sat in the same spot, pulling his laptop from his backpack. But this time, he didn’t immediately start working.

Instead, he leaned back in the squeaky studio chair and stared up at the acoustic foam on the ceiling like it had answers to questions he hadn’t asked yet.

“So…” he finally said. “Do you ever just… get sick of sound?”

You blinked from your seat at the board. “Sick of it?”

“Yeah. Like, it’s everywhere. In your ears. In your head. Even when there’s silence, there’s still… noise.”

You paused. “I call that the ‘hum.’”

He tilted his head toward you.

“The static that lives in your skull after a long day,” you continued, resting your chin on your hand. “Like your brain never figured out how to mute itself.”

He smiled—small, almost sad. “Yeah. That.”

A long beat passed. Then he stood and walked over, handing you a USB. “Here. I messed around with some ideas. Don’t know if any of it’s good.”

You plugged it in and opened the files.

The first track was unfinished—just a few chords on piano, sparse vocals, heavy breaths between phrases. There were no lyrics yet, just humming. Raw, open, almost too intimate to be listening to in front of him.

You dared a glance his way. He wasn’t watching the screen—he was watching you.

“What do you hear?” he asked quietly.

You took a moment.

“Sounds like…” you said slowly, “someone trying to find their way back to something.”

He looked like he wanted to say something then—like the words were on his tongue but too sharp to speak.

Instead, he nodded.

“I wrote it after our last session,” he admitted. “Didn’t know I still had anything in me.”

“That’s what the Echo Room does,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light. “Pulls sound out of people who thought they were done.”

“Do you think people ever… actually run out?” he asked, eyes on the screen.

You leaned back. “I think sometimes we just… get buried under the wrong frequencies.”

That made him smile again.

“You’re good at that,” he murmured.

“At mixing audio?” you joked.

“No,” he said, softer. “At hearing people right.”

⸻

The session ended with laughter over a broken headphone jack and a ridiculous playlist of cursed vocal takes he’d hidden in a folder titled “Doomed Demos.” You were both tired but lighter.

As he packed up, he hesitated at the door.

“I’m probably gonna come back a lot,” he said.

You raised a brow. “Is that a warning or a threat?”

He grinned. “A promise.”

And just like that, he disappeared into the night, leaving behind a flicker of something in your chest you couldn’t name yet—but it sounded a lot like the beginning of something.

authors note: chap 2 is here! i'll try to release a chapter every day or every other day since it's a mini-series anyway. if anyone would like to be added to a tag list lmk!! tysm for reading, i hope both sides of your pillow are cold and your coffee is perfect 🫶

DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THIS WORK.

[hazelwritez]

GUYS.

PLZ.

there's this ff that i read like halfway moths ago. it's like reader is a art history major or smth and hyunjin keeps making her do all the work when they get partnered up and seungmin notices cause for some reason she's like with him a lot?? and he's like 'oh he's a jerk for that you should confront him' or smth and they fall in love??? and i don't remember much more.

IF ANYONE KNOWS WHAT IM TALKING ABT PLZZZZ LMK WHAT ITS CALLED 😭😭😭🙏🙏

[hazelwritez]

THE ECHO ROOM: A BANGCHAN X READER MINI-SERIES

Chapter 1: “The Echo Room”

warnings: pretty short so nothing much, fluff, angst coming up

The rain outside made the dim yellow lights in the studio feel warmer than usual. The old building creaked when the wind blew too hard, and the heater rattled like it had one more winter in it, max. Still, the place had charm. Old posters of unknown artists, scattered cables that never quite got organized, and a faint smell of coffee that somehow lingered in every room. Echo Room wasn’t glamorous, but to you, it felt like the start of something.

You’d only been working as an intern for two weeks, mostly running errands, syncing files, and babysitting outdated equipment. So when the manager casually told you, “Solo session, Room B. Keep it low-key. Big deal, so don’t mess up,” you nodded, totally calm on the outside, but your stomach twisted like a broken fader knob.

You were halfway into setting up when the door opened.

He walked in wearing a beanie pulled low over his forehead, hoodie zipped all the way up, sunglasses on—indoors. Dramatic, but subtle. If you hadn’t recognized the slight Aussie accent when he greeted you, you might’ve just assumed it was another moody indie producer.

“Uh… hi,” he said, sounding both tired and polite. “I’m Chan. Just booked some time for tonight?”

You blinked. Chan? As in Bang Chan? You’d seen him once—twice, maybe—online, but he looked more normal in person. Human, even.

“Right. Room B. You’re early,” you replied, voice steady but your brain screaming. Play it cool. Do not fangirl. Do not explode.

He gave you a sheepish smile. “Didn’t wanna sit in the dorm. Just needed to breathe a bit.”

You nodded, stepping aside as he took in the room—worn-out mixing desk, mismatched chair, scuffed walls that barely contained the bass. “She’s old,” you said, gesturing at the console. “But she’s got soul.”

Chan chuckled as he set down his bag. “So do I, apparently.”

You glanced at the hard drive he handed over, plugging it into the system. “Any specific mix preferences?”

“Just… raw. No polish. I kinda want it to sound like it’s falling apart a little.” He paused. “Like me, I guess.”

You looked at him, unsure if he was joking. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. That moment passed quickly, though—he was already rummaging through his files.

You hit play on the rough track he’d queued up. It started with a lo-fi guitar loop, something intimate and echoey. His voice entered about fifteen seconds in—quiet, breathy, and low. Not what you’d expected. Beautiful, sure, but…

You didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Hmm. Kinda sounds like someone crying underwater.”

The music stopped.

You froze.

Chan turned slowly from where he was tuning his mic. “What?”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean—I mean, I did, but I didn’t think you’d hear that—sorry. It’s not bad. Just… haunting? Like, sad aquatic haunting.”

He stared for a second… then started laughing.

Like, really laughing.

“Sad aquatic haunting,” he repeated, wiping his eyes. “That’s… honestly, that’s better than half the reviews we get.”

You wanted to melt into the floor. “I swear I’m not usually this unfiltered. I think I inhaled too many solder fumes earlier.”

“No, no,” he grinned, waving you off. “You’re the first person who’s been brutally honest in a long time. I like it.”

You gave him a hesitant smile. “So, you’re not going to report me to JYP?”

He leaned closer, voice low. “Not if you help me fix the drowning ghost vibe.”

That was the start of it. The late-night tweaks, the odd jokes, the strange sense of ease despite who he was. You didn’t know what to make of him yet—Bang Chan, the leader, the idol, the exhausted guy who laughed like he’d forgotten how.

But something about the Echo Room made everything else fall away.

Even names.

Even titles.

Just sound and silence, and the space in between.

authors note: 1st episode here! yes, ik there was no warning. yes, it's short. yes, this was an impulsive decision. do i care?... 😁😁 part 2 coming soon. requests are open. love u all, any support or feedback helps!

DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THIS WORK.

(reblogs are fine)

[hazelwritez]

0% understanding

10000% TITI ME PREGUNTO SI TA NO MUCHA NOYA 💃💃💃

[hazelwritez]

support my wife yall, she's tryna post smth soon, very good writer yall will love her. support and feedback helps!! tysm 🫶

- hazel

hi :]

i’m cosmic. i’ve had this account for a while but never really used it—until now.

i wanna start writing on here, but i’m not sure where to begin or who to write about.

so feel free to send me requests, prompts, characters, anything.

Okay bye for now 🫡

[hazelwritez]

hey so what the actual fuck!!

HAN x NYLON JAPAN (MAY 2025)

[hazelwritez]

DOES ANYONE KNOW THE NAME OF THIS SONG PLZZZ 🙏🙏😭😭😭😭

HOW DO YA'LL EDIT LIKE THIS?!

THE LIP SYNC IS SOOO CRAZY. INSANE.

ctto

[hazelwritez]

the way i actually need to listen to jazz or my life in incomplete

(also Dean Martin literally marry me i love you sm 🙏)

(also pt.2 Frank Sinatra i need to give you a big warm hug before i die)

[hazelwritez]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 100 likes!

i love all of u sm

- big kisses and much love from hazel 🫶

[hazelwritez]

How SKZ react to reader having a panic attack during a concert?

SKZ comforting reader during a panic attack

warnings: just fluff, reader having a panic attack, nothing else

💙 Bang Chan

You weren’t sure when the pressure began to squeeze your chest, only that it got harder and harder to breathe. The crowd was roaring, the lights blinding, and the heat of the stage was too much. Mid-verse, your vision blurred and your knees buckled slightly.

Chan noticed right away.

Even in the middle of his rap, he took one step closer to you, hand brushing yours discreetly as he finished his lines. You were trying to power through, but he saw the shake in your fingers.

“(Y/N), you with me?” his voice crackled softly through your in-ear monitor.

You gave a tiny nod, but that was all you could manage.

“Alright, don’t move, baby. I’ve got it.”

When the lights dimmed between songs, he gently wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you offstage, as if it was all part of the plan. The moment you were out of the spotlight, he turned to you fully, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Hey, hey... Look at me. You’re safe, okay? You’re doing so good.”

Your hands were shaking, chest heaving, and tears were starting to prick at your eyes. He leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “Let’s just sit for a sec, yeah? Forget the concert. Just breathe with me.”

He pulled you into his lap, your back against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you like a weighted blanket.

“You’re not alone. I’ll stop the whole world for you if I have to.”

💛 Lee Know (Minho)

You were mid-dance when your limbs stopped responding the way they were supposed to. The beat was thumping, but your heart was louder. Your breath hitched, hands trembling around the mic. You missed your cue.

Minho was the first to notice the unusual hesitation. He spun on cue and caught sight of your pale face. His dancer's instincts kicked in — he flowed closer, syncing his steps with yours to hide the change from the audience.

During the quick formation change, he brushed his fingers against your arm.

“Hey... You okay?” he asked softly, his sharp eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely breathe.

He didn’t hesitate. When the lights flickered for the next transition, he took your hand and smoothly pulled you toward the side of the stage, never breaking the flow.

Once backstage, he didn’t say anything at first — he just tugged you into his arms and let you cling.

“I know that look,” he whispered into your hair. “You don’t need to explain.”

He rubbed your back slowly, methodically, grounding you.

“You’re not weak. You’re human,” he said after a beat, voice still calm but laced with something softer. “And you don’t have to face this alone. Not while I’m here.”

Later, he handed you his spare hoodie. “You can wear this while you rest. It smells like me — and you always say that helps.”

💖 Changbin

The second your mic dipped too low and your eyes darted nervously toward the floor, Changbin felt something was wrong. You were never this off-beat. Your steps faltered, and when he passed you during choreo, he saw it — your hands were trembling, your mouth opening like you couldn’t find air.

Without missing his lines, he adjusted the spacing so he ended up right beside you. His hand brushed yours, then grabbed it.

“It’s okay,” he whispered quickly. “You’re okay. Just hold on to me.”

He looped your arm around his, guiding you subtly toward the wing as the group fanned out. The audience didn’t even notice, but once you were offstage, you collapsed onto your knees, breathing raggedly.

He knelt right beside you, throwing his jacket around your shoulders and pulling you into him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here,” he repeated like a mantra, his hand rubbing circles on your back. “You’re not alone.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with panic. “I—I couldn’t breathe.”

“I know,” he said gently. “You don’t have to push through it alone. That’s what I’m here for.”

After a moment, he tried to lighten the mood. “Besides, if you fainted on stage, I would’ve had to carry you like a prince. Not that I’d mind.”

You laughed — a weak, shaky laugh — but it was enough.

💚 Hyunjin

You had practiced the setlist a hundred times, but nothing prepared you for the way the crowd’s screams began to close in around you. The lights felt too hot, too bright, and your heart pounded in your ears like a war drum.

Hyunjin spotted you faltering, your posture stiff and your eyes darting.

In a fluid motion, he abandoned the center spot and danced his way to your side, catching your eye mid-step.

“(Y/N), breathe with me,” he mouthed, exaggerating his own breaths to help ground you.

You nodded weakly, tears brimming.

He slipped an arm behind your waist and guided you to the wing while the others took over center stage. The crowd, oblivious, continued to cheer.

Once you were behind the curtain, he dropped the performer's mask and knelt in front of you.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart. Look at me. You’re okay. Can you feel my hand?”

He placed it over your chest, his palm firm but gentle.

“Match your breath to mine, alright? Like we practiced in vocal training. In... and out.”

Slowly, your breathing synced with his.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need. I don’t care about the setlist.”

Then, in classic Hyunjin fashion, he added, “But when you feel better, let’s take a dramatic selfie with your blanket and tissues. I’ll title it ‘Stage 9: The Meltdown Era.’”

💙 Han (Jisung)

You were known for your energy, your grin, the way you hyped the crowd with just a wink. But this time, you felt frozen. The voices in your head were louder than the cheers. Your knees locked, your throat closed up, and the panic hit like a tidal wave.

Jisung had just finished his verse when he noticed. You were staring blankly at the crowd, your mic down at your side.

He didn’t even blink — he immediately stepped in front of you and took over your line, making it look like a planned remix.

As the next formation shifted, he ducked behind you and whispered into your ear, “Hey, breathe, okay? I’m here.”

He subtly slid his arm around your back, walking you toward the edge of the stage during a blackout transition.

Once backstage, he sat you down and knelt in front of you, still catching his breath from performing.

“You scared me,” he said, his voice soft but honest. “But it’s okay. We’ll get through it.”

He took your hand and placed it over his own racing heart. “Feel that? It’s beating fast too. You’re not the only one, okay?”

Then, trying to lighten the mood, he grinned, “And hey, maybe this’ll be our next concept. ‘Stray Kids: Panic but Pretty.’”

You snorted through your tears, and he beamed. “There’s that laugh I love.”

💜 Felix

The fans were chanting your name, but you couldn’t hear it. The pounding in your head was too loud. You swayed slightly, and your legs felt like jelly. Your mouth moved, but no words came out.

Felix was on the other side of the stage, but the second he saw your shoulders slump and your eyes glaze, he crossed the distance in seconds.

He didn’t say anything at first — just gently took your hand and interlaced your fingers with his.

“Hey, sunshine,” he whispered, soft and low in your in-ear. “You’re okay. Focus on my voice, yeah?”

You nodded, barely. He gently guided you toward the wing, his presence shielding you as the other members covered the stage.

Once backstage, he wrapped both arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

“You did amazing,” he murmured. “And you don’t have to prove anything, okay?”

You hiccupped a sob. “I—I’m sorry—”

“Nope. None of that. No apologies.” He kissed the top of your head. “You're human. And you’re still the bravest person I know.”

Then, he pulled a small piece of chocolate from his pocket. “Your emergency sweet. I knew I’d need it one day.”

💙 Seungmin

You were halfway through your solo line when your throat tightened and your mind blanked. The world felt far away, and your hands were clammy.

Seungmin was in the middle of the harmonies, but he noticed your voice crack — not in the usual way. He stepped closer under the pretense of choreo and caught your hand, squeezing it once.

“You okay?” he asked into your in-ear.

You shook your head faintly.

“I’m taking you off. Don’t argue.”

With his arm lightly wrapped around your waist, he led you toward the wing during a lighting shift. Once backstage, he placed both hands on your shoulders and crouched to meet your gaze.

“You’re okay. You’re just overwhelmed,” he said calmly. “You don’t need to force anything. Take a break.”

When you broke down in tears, he offered you his oversized hoodie and water bottle.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” he said. “You’re enough. Always have been.”

Later, he sat beside you quietly, offering you silence and space — until he pulled up a meme on his phone and deadpanned, “Okay, but if I passed out on stage, you’d laugh. So I’m owed at least one giggle.”

❤️ I.N (Jeongin)

You were halfway through a high-energy number when your knees buckled. You tried to recover, but your chest was tight, and the edges of your vision were going dark.

Jeongin caught you before you could fall.

“Hey, hey—what’s wrong?” he said, concern instantly replacing his usual bright smile.

He held onto your waist and guided you slowly offstage, murmuring, “Just lean on me. I’ve got you.”

Once backstage, he helped you sit down and knelt beside you, brushing your hair gently out of your face.

“Is it panic? Yeah?” he asked. You nodded, trembling.

He offered his hand, and when you took it, he pressed it against his cheek.

“Just focus on something soft, okay? Like my cheeks. Or the fact that I almost tripped during my verse and no one noticed.”

That earned a soft laugh through your tears.

He gave you his lucky charm — a tiny plushie from his mic stand — and placed it in your lap.

“You’ve always been strong for us. Now it’s my turn.”

authors note: kind of sick rn, hopefully this is good 😭😭 hope you liked it, fr started giggling and kicking my feet when i saw someone acc requested something. anywho, love u sm, thanks for reading 🫶

@skzlover24

[hazelwritez]

love this song more than i love some ppl

[hazelwritez]

HESEOGOODATDANCINGhdodnsbehejeioeodkdbdbddbbddhhdjsowpwjsbdjiodjd

(can you tell i'm literally disgustingly infatuated with him)

hyunjin — here challenge

[hazelwritez]

PLZ 😭

PLEASE GIVE ME REQUESTS OR I WONT HAVE MOTIVATION😞😞

[hazelwritez]

a little something because i'm not writing for a while:

Chan loves you. Intricately, wholy, gently, roughly, today and tomorrow. He loves you when your eyes are puffy and when your hands are cold. When your voice is rough and when your stomach aches. He loved you at your highest, your lowest, whenever and wherever. And he wanted- no, *needed* you to know that every inch of his heart belonged to you.

So no, you weren't surprised when you came home to a mountain of bags filled with everything from skirts and dresses to necklaces and waist bracelets to your favorite scented candles.

You never exactly got to open them until the next morning, because as soon as you whispered his name like a sacred secret, as soon as your face broke into the most gentle smile, Chan took you in his arms. Half proud of himself. Half melting from seeing that beautiful smile grace your lips. Fully disgustingly in love all over again like he was a teenager with a crush.

The night was spent in a tangle of limbs- you embasking in his warm skin and fading cologne from the day, him gently scolding you for being so cold as he left gentle kisses on the top of your head.

You couldn't care if you were frozen cold, or if your skin was literally melting off. All you needed and wanted was him him *him*. And god knows he couldn't possibly love you more even though he promised he does.

You eventually fell asleep in his arms, but he stayed awake about an hour after, feeling like he was the luckiest man in the universe. In the middle of the night, pressed between your tangled limbs and lazily tugged-on clothes, Chan's heart beat in sync with yours, feeling more at home than he could ever be. With you.

authors note: did NOT proofread this if it's shit don't come for me, i love channie sm i know he loves to spoil his girl. hoped y'all enjoyed anyway, love you all to the moon and back :)