Fluffy SKZ oneshots🧸

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I've decided to turn this fic into a book, please check it out <3

Little: Minho

Caregivers: Stray Kids (mainly Chan and Jisung)

No one's POV.:
Minho had had one hell of a bad day, getting yelled at by the choreographer he was working with to put together a choreography for their next comeback. Unfortunately, none of his members were with him at the time to defend him and in hopes of not pissing the other off more, he just took each and every scolding, listening to the choreographer belittling him. The dancer hated not having his skills and ideas taken seriously but he figured the day would go even worse if he fought back. In an attempt to prove how hard working he was, he skipped his lunch break and continued practicing different dance moves while the other choreographer went to eat. Minho ended up regretting that deeply because the other didn't even notice how he skipped his meal in favor of work and only got more upset when the dancer started slacking off. He knew he'd be doing better if he had granted himself even just a small break but the choreographer didn't know that, he only knew that a dancer he didn't like to begin with, kept messing up and being pretty useless considering he was the main dancer of his group. Over the course of the late afternoon, Minho had to put up with multiple disrespectful comments being mainly about the dancing skill of his group. If Minho was already this bad at dancing, the rest of the members must be a disaster. Even if his blood boiled when the choreographer insulted his entire group, the dancer managed to stay polite, taking deep breath while digging his nails into his palm. If this session wasn't over soon, somebody would end up getting punched in the face. What a shame it would be if that person ended up being a rude choreographer.

By the time their session was over, so was Minho's patience. He was hungry, had been for a while. As soon as he was alone in the practice room, he dropped down next to his bag, leaning against the wall. The insults were still ringing in his ears as he chugged down the rest of his water and slowly started to creep in his mind. What if he really wasn't as good as he always thought? His eyes started to sting with unshed tears. He felt weak from dancing for hours on end without a break and without a proper meal, the breakfast he had had before heading to the dance room only consisting of a protein bar and a cup of black coffee. It was safe to say that Minho hadn't had such a bad day in a long time. Maybe he'd be able to slip into his headspace and escape all of this for a while as soon as he made it back to the dorm. Though he didn't feel like he had the energy to, he packed up his things and forced himself to get up off the ground. He checked his phone again, secretly hoping for a text from any of his members. During one of his trips to the bathroom, he had texted their group chat and vented about the choreographer he had to work with. Part of him had hoped that at least one of them would check in on him, considering it had been hours since he vented in their group chat. There were no messages, so he shoved his phone into his pocket and decided to walk home. His muscles ached and he knew he'd be sore for days but he needed to clear his head, so he'd bear with the pain in his legs for a bit longer.

When Minho stepped into the dorm and kicked off his shoes, his members were already back from their schedules, all comfortable in the living room, watching a movie together. Aside from a short greeting, they barely acknowledged the dancer at all, so he just trudged to the bathroom to take a well-deserved hot shower. He sighed when the water soothed his muscles a bit and if it wasn't for his rumbling stomach, he would have stayed there for the rest of the evening. Opening his closet in search of some comfortable clothes, Minho remembered his plan to regress. He took out a pastel blue sweater with a cute paw-print and decided to pair it with a knee length black skater skirt. It was something he'd never wear when he was big but his little-self loved feeling all cute and showing his petite waist. Usually just putting on these kinds of clothes would put him in his headspace already but today it wasn't working. His self-doubt as a dancer was still eating him up inside, not allowing him to escape. It wouldn't really be a big deal going to his caregivers and telling them he needed their help slipping but Minho didn't feel like explaining his whole situation right now. He just wanted them to pay attention to him, to be all sweet with him and praise him a bit. His scarred ego could certainly use some praises at the moment. Maybe if his caregivers just treated him like he was little, he'd slip automatically. He'd just pretend to already be little, so they'd treat him like it, deciding 'fake it till you make it' sounded like the best strategy.